Aphrodite's Choice

Chapter 55 – A Foreign Feeling

The vision in front of him was brilliant, as if only the best of the beautiful things in the world were collected in this place. The most beautiful, though, was her, standing there resplendent and in all her glory. Is she a Nereid? He thought.

He didn’t ask it out loud, but for all that mattered, she could be. Nothing from what he knew was as magnificent on earth. He thought that if he didn’t utter something, she might disappear like a beautiful illusion.

Surprisingly she was real, because she approached him and asked, “Who are you?”

Blue eyes glimmering with expectation of his response. Hephaestus had never been a subject of a gaze such as this in his entire life. On Olympus, no one had ever given him much importance to look at him this way, expecting an answer.

Hera had despised her son from the moment he was born, and so had the rest of Olympus, in step with their queen. Hera either showed her hatred of him openly without any hesitation, or pretended not to do so explicitly while still finding ways to disrespect him covertly. When she was feeling generous, she would put on a show of sympathizing with him while keeping her distance and not actually helping at all.

He was an outsider, an outcast. Nobody ever invited him anywhere, nor did they want to be remotely associated with him. The biting gaze of others and their brutal remarks on his behalf was as natural to him as breathing. He didn’t dwell much on it.

But this girl approached him with curious eyes, smiling as though there was nothing in the world that she wanted to know about more than him, right there at that moment.

“Hello,” she said waving her hands to bring him out of his reveries, “Who are you?”

“I… I am, uh,” stammered Hephaestus, awkwardly.

“Yes,” she said, encouragingly, “You are?”

Her piercing gaze was fixated on him. Not on ‘Hera’s ugly son’. Not on ‘the black sheep of Olympus’. But him, just him.

“Hephaestus,” he managed to utter, feeling like an idiot.

“Hephaestus?” she confirmed.

He felt his heart flutter at that moment. His name had always been spat out with disgust or anger. He had no inkling, until now, that his name could be uttered in such a humane and soft manner. He wondered if this was how love felt like.

* * *

The girl didn’t have a name, an identity or a home. She felt ashamed of it, because everybody had one. It was a being’s birthright, no matter where they were born. She insisted to Hephaestus to give her a name, and preferably a home.

“Me?” he said, appalled, “You really want me to give you a name?”

“Do you see anyone else here?” she said, rolling her eyes.

“But I don’t have the right or the power to name anyone,” he persisted. A shadow fell across his face. He had never been given any rights, whatsoever, since the dawn of his birth. Neither respected nor loved. How could he be expected to provide a name and an identity to any being at all?

The girl was undaunted. It wasn’t that she was interested in him and bold enough to request favours. But she was trying to be familiar to the world at large, it was all so confusing to her. At his words, she laughed.

“What strange nonsense is this?” she said giggling, “Why do you need the ‘right’ or the ‘power’ or whatever gibberish that is. I asked you. You either accept or refuse. That’s all!”

Hephaestus was silent for a while, at a loss for words to respond. “Well, then,” he said after a while, “I will think about it.”

“How long?” she asked.

“Until I am able to come up with a name that suits you well,” he replied.

“That could mean tomorrow, a long, long time, or never,” she objected, “Can’t you give me an approximate date?”

“It’s a name, you know,” he explained, “It needs to be thought about properly. After all, it will be something you will be stuck with forever.”

She nodded. His words made sense. From the moment a god was born, they got a name that held power. It was unfortunate that things had ended this way for her. With no name, no place to stay, no nothing!

“As for a home,” said Hephaestus, “You can stay here.”

“Here?” she asked, surprised.

“Only if you want to, of course,” he hurriedly corrected himself, “No pressure.”

She didn’t mind living here with him. She had nowhere to go except the sea. That was why she had asked him to find her a place to call her own. But he said it so hesitantly. She didn’t want a favour out of obligation. If he was uncomfortable with her staying here, she didn’t want to burden him in that way.

Little did she know that his hesitation wasn’t because of his discomfort regarding her. It was because Hephaestus had never really invited anyone in this manner. He had had no friends in his entire life, and any that he tried to talk to treated him with disgust. So, as much as he was accustomed to rejection, it still pained him when it came in a brutal, scathing way. He didn’t want to burden her with any type of compulsion.

“What about you?” she asked, “Are you okay with me staying here?”

“I… Uh,” he stammered. She took it to mean something else.

“If you can’t answer me with honesty,” she said, “I will just assume that you don’t want me here.”

“No. I…. It’s not like that!” he tried and failed to clarify.

She was annoyed. All she expected was honesty. If he didn’t want her to stay, she wouldn’t mind. But this cat-and-mouse game of stammering was really getting on her nerves. “Do you want me to stay or not?” she asked one last time.