I was named for a Titan and given the role of a love god. Both of these facts are more of a joke than a fact. By my father, the god of war, I was too small and “pretty” to be powerful. My mother, the official goddess of love, coddled me when convenient, but had little use for me until I was old enough to praise her beauty. And Hera despised my birth, the symbol of Aphrodite unfaithfulness to her own son, Hephaestus. The other gods were ordered to ignore me. I must have been a very cute baby because Diana taught me to shoot a bow, Apollo taught me to play music, and Hestia taught me to create a home for myself. All behind Hera’s back.
Still, Hephaestus was the hero of my child’s heart. Starting from my toddler years, he would take me to his blacksmith’s shop and let me watch his work. He was the man who should have truly hated my existence. One day, when I was old enough to reach for his hammer and was reminded not to touch, I ask him why he liked me.
“I don’t like you. I just hate my mother more. Now keep working on those arrowheads.”
Besides the assurance that I was never wanted at the forge, I was trained to make my own arrows and sword. More importantly, I was trained to be clever. Under Hephaesuts’s instruction, I once tricked Hera into rubbing her face with a plant that turned her skin a bright blue. Thousands of years later, she still believes this was the fault Demeter. If you ever met Demeter, you would know that the punishment Hera doled out was totally justified.
When I reached an age that could be the equivalent of a teenage, my role on Mount Olympus went from secret pet to errand boy for my mother. She wished a fabulous weapon to be delivered to her latest human champion, designed by her distant husband. Naturally, Hephaestus created what she asked with an extra surprise. Every time this muscular man would wield his new spear, he would be both unbeatable and Aphrodite would see him as a giant goat wearing a gold diaper.
After I delivered this gift, I hid in my mother’s temple awaiting her champion to meet with her and anticipating hilarity. Instead, she entered. The most beautiful creature mankind had ever produced crouched alone. I listened as she prayed. Her father was going to sell her into marriage. She prayed for an escape. But her prayers were not average. They were logical and clever, practically bargaining with the gods. And it was then I knew I loved her.
