Children of Zeus (2) Hephaestus
Children of Zeus (2) Hephaestus
The day before.
After Hera and I had tangled together in a deep, intense embrace, I held her close and asked.
"Do you really hate it?"
"Yes. Ares I could bear. But Hephaestus... I truly wish she wouldn't become a blacksmith."
Hera didn't want her daughters doing 'rough work.' Especially not her firstborn, the child she'd carried in her womb and borne in pain — Hephaestus.
"As a mother, wanting your child to walk only the best path... I think I'm starting to understand that now. Of course, I'm not denying that she wants to do what lets her talent shine brightest. I just..."
"...wish she were in a place where a woman can keep her prettiest face?"
"Yes... I wish she'd walk a path more like the other goddesses. More goddess-like."
Hera hated the idea of Hephaestus becoming the Blacksmith Goddess.
"Even Hestia is the goddess of the hearth, isn't she? She presides over the hearth and guards the home. Refined, elegant. Just as everyone calls Hestia beautiful when they see her... I want Hephaestus to be like that too."
Hera buried her face against my chest.
"Since she loves fire, she could be the Kitchen Goddess. The mistress of the kitchen, responsible for the family's meals, supporting her husband and nurturing her children. I... I'd much rather Hephaestus become a goddess like that."
"A cooking goddess. It does suit the flame well."
Flames aren't only used in a forge. If warming the home is Hestia's authority and domain, then so far no god presides over the realm known as the kitchen.
'Hera is genuinely patriarchal, you know.'
The conflict between Hera and Hephaestus is a generational gap.
If Hera's view of womanhood is a patriarchal mindset that women should stay home and cook, then Hephaestus held the progressive belief that women can swing hammers in a forge too.
'Or is it not?'
No matter how differently I'd conducted sex education from the old Titan gods, I hadn't taught anything that would push her toward that kind of ideology.
—How could such a dreadful idea exist!
If such a being existed, the Titan goddesses would be throwing stones at the person before I even stepped in. Heck, even if I said something like that, all hell would break loose.
Because nowhere in the world is more macho than this place — Greece!
"Hera, so you want Hephaestus to be the Kitchen Goddess? In truth... it's not that you simply hate her becoming the Blacksmith Goddess?"
"I want... both. A woman's happiness is to modestly help her husband at home and raise children."
"Might that happiness be different for her? If Hephaestus's real happiness is swinging a hammer?"
"...I don't know."
Hera pressed her face firmly into my embrace.
"For me, happiness is helping you with your meals, raising your children, living for you. So I thought... that was happiness for the kids too."
"Yes, I see."
"But maybe it isn't? Could I... have been wrong?"
"As my wife, that answer scores a perfect hundred. But as Hephaestus's mother, the marks aren't so good."
As both husband and father, I needed to draw a clear line with Hera.
"A child's happiness may well be the parent's happiness. Forcing what you want onto a child... might actually make the child unhappy."
"Is that really true?"
"It is. You're the same, aren't you? How would you feel if Mother Rhea told you to live apart from me?"
"...I'd hate that."
Hera clung even tighter to my body. I tidied her hair with my hand and patted her on the back.
"It's the same with this. You understand? You mustn't be too harsh on her."
"...All right."
I comforted Hera, and we fell asleep.
With the reassuring thought that this much ought to be enough.
* * *
And then.
I had overlooked it too easily — that before they are my wife and daughter, the two of them are individuals, each a woman.
"I will become the Blacksmith Goddess."
"You? Ha, what nonsense. You are the daughter of Hera. Behave modestly and become the Kitchen Goddess."
"Don't do it."
"I won't."
How terrifying a battle of wills between two women can be.
How terrifying it was watching Hera and Hephaestus — who inherited Hera's temperament most strongly — wage a war of words with neither willing to yield an inch.
'Athena, help me.'
'A problem no one but Lord Zeus can solve. Good luck!'
'Aaaaargh.'
"Why is the child like this — because of you!"
"Mom, why are you like this when I just want to do what I want!"
"What? What kind of tone is that toward your mother?! This is Olympus! Have you no manners?!"
"I hate this! I hate you, Mom! Waaaaah!"
"What did you do so well that you get to cry!"
"Hwaaaaah, Daddyyyyy! Mom, to me, waaaaah!!!"
"Ha, hahaha."
I could never bring myself to recall that memory again.
* * *
Hera fought with Hephaestus.
No one could casually intervene in the mother-daughter quarrel. In the end, Hera sought out the one woman she could consult about this problem.
"Mom, what do I do?"
"...That's the question."
Watching Hera worry herself sick over her child, Rhea gave a wry laugh.
"To me, Hephaestus is simply adorable because she reminds me of how you used to be."
"Me?"
"You insisted every single day that you'd stay with Zeus. You even hit Demeter and Hestia."
"I, I did that?"
"You did. I had to soothe the crying Demeter and Hestia, and Zeus had to soothe the sulking Neptune and Hades. As for you... oh, never mind."
Rhea let out a hollow laugh and waved her hand.
"Now it's time you did a little suffering yourself. You have so many more children to bear — and you're already like this?"
"What?"
"You didn't know? Long ago, you told Zeus yourself. 'When I grow up, I'll keep bearing your children.' Fufufu."
"Uugh..."
Hera was so embarrassed by her mother's revelations about her past self that she wanted to crawl into a hole and hide.
"But even after fighting like that, you always secretly picked flowers. And then you apologized to your sisters, saying you were sorry. Maybe... your daughter will do the same, don't you think?"
"Hephaestus too?"
"Yes. If it's that child... I think she'll bring you a gift. So, if she sends you a peace offering first, pretend to lose graciously and accept it. That's what it is to be a mother."
"...I understand, Mom."
Hera let out a deep sigh and nestled into Rhea's arms.
"Mom, it's really hard."
* * *
Clang, clang, clang.
A steady hammering rang out. Hephaestus was swinging her hammer roughly, aimed at the blade set upon the anvil.
Fury was coiled within a hammer that normally would be swung with a reverent heart. I knew all too well who that fury was aimed at, and I visited the forge to soothe it.
"Daughter."
"Ah..."
Hephaestus, who a moment ago had been swinging her hammer violently and was about to fling it away, lowered her gaze the instant she saw me.
Her body had grown to overflowing volumes rivaling Hera's, yet seeing her act exactly like a child who had done wrong told me she still had many young parts inside.
"Do you want to become the Blacksmith Goddess?"
"...Yes."
"Why?"
"Because it's the field I excel at most."
Hephaestus repeated exactly what she'd said during the interview. She was straightforward; she didn't want to embellish her words or talk around them.
It's what she can do well, what she's more confident in than anyone, so she'll do it.
"You aren't asking your father for a favor?"
"No. If you ordered me to become the Blacksmith Goddess, I would do it. But then Mom would resent you."
"That's alright."
"No, it's not. Then I wouldn't be at peace. I'll... persuade Mom."
Hephaestus lifted her hammer and flashed a grin.
"I want to prove that the daughter you fathered is, at least in this field, the very best."
"Better than any man?"
"What? What do you mean by that?"
Hephaestus snorted at my words and jerked a thumb toward herself.
"Not just men — no one in this world can do blacksmith's work better than I can. Even if it's... you, Dad."
"Ah."
My thinking had been mistaken. Hephaestus wasn't hung up on the issue of men versus women. She had no particular thought of smashing a glass ceiling with her hammer.
A mindset that she herself is the best.
Pride that she is, regardless of gender, the greatest artisan among Titans — that was the source of her desire to become the Blacksmith Goddess.
"And... this is a little embarrassing to say in front of you, Dad."
Hephaestus twisted her fingers together and gave a sly smile.
"...When the gods ask whose parents raised the greatest blacksmith, I want to say 'Zeus and Hera's child.' Because if all blacksmiths look up to me, they'll worship the two who gave birth to me, too."
"Ah!"
It hit me again. Having lived in the modern era, I'd thought of blacksmithing as some archaic, ancient technology. But in this age I'm living in, it's practically cutting-edge science.
—I, as CEO of PINEAPPLE, seek the respect of everyone in the IT industry.
'What a fool I've been!'
Ahh, I'd been trapped in prejudice. I hadn't thought seriously about just how immense and sublime the status of a blacksmith was in this world.
"I don't want anyone else to take the position of Blacksmith Goddess from me."
"Indeed, of course! If my daughter wants to become Elon.Gates.Jobs, then indeed!"
"Huh? Dad, I feel like something about you suddenly changed..."
"I realized it while talking with you. Haha, you are truly Hera's daughter. Yes — no matter what Hera says, I'll cover you. Yes, of course my daughter, Hera's daughter, must be the Blacksmith Goddess."
Saying 'Blacksmith Goddess' sounds a bit weak.
But what if she were called the Goddess of Technology?
"I'll tell you the surest, easiest way to persuade Hera."
"What?"
Hephaestus's eyes glittered.
"There's a method like that?"
"Yes. But don't say I told you."
"Ah, I understand. Tell me, Dad."
Crackle.
I summoned lightning.
And kneading the bolt into just the right shape, I proposed the form of a 'machine' that could persuade Hera in a single stroke.
"This."
"...Dad?"
"What?"
"This is a little..."
Hephaestus furrowed her brow at the writhing bolt of lightning.
"No matter what, still... isn't me making this a bit much?"
"It's fine. I guarantee it. If you make this and give it to your mother, she'll be overjoyed."
"Mom will?"
Hephaestus couldn't shake off her doubt. Of course, if I'd been in Hephaestus's shoes, I wouldn't have easily believed my suggestion either.
"...Alright. I'll trust only you, Dad."
"Good. This is a guaranteed winning move."
A secret weapon Hera absolutely cannot withstand — guaranteed to change her heart.
"Let's give her a Golden Chair."
(With BDSM restraints and a dildo hidden inside).