Fireside

Hephaestus

Hestia didn't normally find the other gods and goddesses vexing. On the contrary, she enjoyed it when they appeared at her doorstep for short visits. Unfortunately, some visits always came with a second agenda aside from catching up.

Such was Hera's case, who had shown up looking for one of her sons again. Judging from her sister's miffed face and the rumors that had been flying about recently, there was only one possible runaway from the Olympian household. Hephaestus wasn't the fastest runner in Olympus, as proven by his use of a cane, but he had enough knowledge and artistry to conceal himself from the rest of the immortal population.

"Are you positive that he isn't here?" the queen goddess asked, peeking over Hestia's shoulder.

"I didn't see anyone either enter or leave my pillar, Hera. I'm here the whole day, after all," the hearth goddess replied, standing her ground despite her sister's insistence to get a better look of the inside. Her words were true—she technically didn't see anybody else pass through her home's doors. But it didn't mean that someone wasn't within.

Hera pouted, placing her hands on her hips. "Where could that wretched boy be?"

"Maybe you should check Lemnos. Or he might have gone to visit Thetis and Eurynome," Hestia suggested, thinking about the places and people her nephew held dear to his heart. The lad was proud to have a pillar complete with workshop and smithy of his own, but she knew that he didn't necessarily call the place home.

Especially not after the scandal his wife and older brother did there.

"Great idea, Hessy!" Hera exclaimed, giving her older sister a short hug before pulling away and heading back to her chariot. "I can send Iris there right now."

The hearth goddess nodded, watching as the ever-flighty queen mounted her vehicle, whispering into her personal messenger's ear as the latter helped her up. Hestia waved goodbye the moment Hera's peacocks of blue and green and red and silver started off, only lowering her hand when the chariot at last disappeared from sight. When there was no trace of the queen consort left, Hestia hurriedly entered her home and shut the doors behind her back.

"I know you're in there, Hephaestus," Hestia stated as she approached the dancing flames of the hearth. The fire flickered, a hint that something had just jerked inside of it. She could vaguely see the outline of a particular god's very distinguishable figure. "Your mother's gone now, so you can come out."

Just as she'd guessed, the flames parted, and a familiar hunchback hobbled from the hearth. A half-bald head lifted up, and bright eyes below an abnormally wide brow met Hestia's. The god's pockmarked face showed his displeasure at being found out.

"How did you know, Aunt Hessy?" he lisped, his prognathic jaw and chin impeding the possibility of clear speech.

The older immortal rolled her eyes, knowing that if her nephew thought long and hard enough instead of sulking, he would have guessed how. "Despite your control over fire, the hearth will always serve its mistress first and foremost. Do you really think it would help you hide your presence from me?"

"I was hoping it would." The smith frowned, distorting his mouth and flashing his crooked donkey's teeth to the world.

She was glad to see that he still took great care to brush and rinse them out. It was a habit she'd often reminded him of doing, as his teeth's larger than average size could potentially cause problems when unkempt. He was certainly far more obedient and receptive to advice than his mischievous brother. "Hermes helped sneak you into my house, didn't he?"

His frown turned into a wince, and a sheepish look came over his face which, if it weren't for years of experience dealing with the boy, Hestia wouldn't have noticed easily. His already malformed features didn't exactly create the usual facial expressions. "I put him up to it," Hephaestus admitted. "He didn't take to the threat of losing the wings from his sandals."