The Last Ballad of Olympus: The Waltz of the Vulture and Owl

The Sins of Ardor

On that hour, the moon rose to the highest peak—glowing like the heart of Hellas that provided immortality to the gods.

Before letting her story escape from her mouth, Athena stared at the window that displayed the beauty of Selene as she showcased her good spirits and blessing upon those below her. "Thank you for a drop of confidence." She whispered and smiled to the moon.

"Oh, do tell me now about your son," Aphrodite spoke, breaking the intimate worship of Athena towards the moon.

Athena turned her head with an expression of someone still bringing her soul back to the present reality. "Huh? Oh—well, where do I begin?" She thought, resting her hand on the other as one finger lightly kissed her lips.

There was so much to say about her son and his story. And when she finally decided where to start, she then said—

"My son is one of a kind, Aphrodite. I know many mothers would say that about their child, but indeed, Erichthonius is unique.

Let us begin with the how, why, and what of his conception—

I remember that fine day crossing from Olympus to Hephaestus's castle. The sun was blazing, forming beads of sweat on my body and forehead—I decided to visit him and inspect the armors I requested."

Aphrodite's eyes did not even blink. Her purple orbs glimmered like the pond that ornated the courtyard of the heavenly kingdom. She was so eager as if she was about to lend her ears to Athena.

Seeing this zeal on her face, Athena looked away and boldly said, "The other reason I wanted to see Hephaestus is because I want to know how he was. I want to know if he had not gone berserk after being humiliated from your—your love affair with Ares."

"Oh—" Aphrodite stammered. "I—I see."

From a bubbly pigeon, the goddess of love suddenly went still as if a typhoon was on the horizon. A gurgling liability was forming inside of her as she continued to listen.

"I was there being a companion to him. When everyone else laughed, I was reassuring him of his goodness. I pitied the deity, for he isolated himself. He was depriving everything out of his sight and system.

I do not want to blame you, Aphrodite, because you fell in love. It's that—what happened between you, Hephaestus, and Ares was the catalyst for why I am here now suffering for losing a son. Let me add that Poseidon was also part of these shenanigans.

I hated that sea god—always having his pride resting above his logic. He knew my intentions towards Hephaestus were of goodwill, yet he disrupted it.

I did not know he was keenly observing my every move, waiting for a slight mistake for him to slander me—just like what he did with the events during that assault on my temple. I loathed him to the core for twisting everything as he made the strumpet into a victim, and I—an unjust deity.

Every visit I made was like a step toward his revenge on me. And one day, when I left, he snooped into Hephaestus's workshop and convinced him that the real purpose why I visited him was because I was secretly and madly in love with him. The poor deity completely believed him, thinking I could be a replacement for the whole that was still stinging in his heart.

The false hope sprouted instantly in Hephaestus's head as if the world revolved around his finger.

And that one time, that specific time that I will never forget—as I went inside his workshop, there was this glow in his welcoming smile that I did not understand. I greeted him as a courtesy and asked him immediately about my weapons.

Our conversation went in so many directions that it felt like we were running in circles. It was convoluted. The way he stuttered his answers to my questions made me wonder if something was wrong with him.

His face was questionably radiating some unsaid emotion—ever bright and smiling even though our subject was casual. I also noticed how his eyes scoured every part of me. I was like a gullible dolly threatened by her maker—a sculpture about to be burned because of some imperfections. Hephaestus's conduct made me uncomfortable.

When I returned to the subject of the weapons, he suddenly convinced me to follow him to the other room.

I admit it now that it was the greatest mistake I have ever committed.

It was a trap I had not foreseen.

The room we went into was dimly lit, with only two torches burning from each side of the door. I walked past Hephaestus, inspecting the whole area with my eyes squinted. I could not tell what kind of room it was except to assume that it was storage since I felt the parts of weapons that were on a table beside me.

I asked him if one of the things I touched was my weapon, yet he did not answer me. There was this eerie silence between us. I tried to speak, but my tongue became mame. My whole body became immobile, petrified by some unknown force. Not to mention how my heartbeat raced with the rush of fear burbling through my veins.

I could not fathom the situation.

Not until Hephaestus grabbed me behind the neck, pushed me down—face first—on the table, and rapidly took my hands to a tight hold at the back, putting me in a vulnerable state.

My mind was blank. Nothing could comprehend what I was feeling at that very moment. Hephaestus was strong and became more aggressive with every resistance I made. I could feel his nails digging into my skin as his grip tightened on my hands. My throat felt like I swallowed some rock that I could not scream.

I was a hostage. A prisoner with no hope for freedom."

Athena's eyes reddened with a threat of tears as she recalled that horrible encounter. "I—I was losing my wits." She continued. "I was losing my vigor as he pushed his whole weight over me. His breath was the scent of sweet wine when he leaned and whispered praises to my ears. It was a horror! I can even remember how his tongue hungrily licked the tips of my ear; his hardened manhood rubbed on my leg.

Pleading was no use for a man whose lust, now I know, was unquenched for many passing moons. The wooing in his voice went on, thinking that I could easily be seduced to sleep with him.

At last, when a little of my strength revived, I managed to kick him away from me—causing him to tumble down onto the ground. At first, I felt sorry, especially when I saw the shock on his face. But when my poor eyes detected his raised manhood—lusting for my body, I became disgusted and could not help but look away and run. But before I could do so, I felt something warm on my leg, and when I gazed down—I was petrified.

My heart was still for a second when I realized it was his seed.

My brain took over the command as I bolted my heel back to my abode. I could not even remember what was going on when I was running; all I knew was that I was shaking, searching for a scrap cloth. And when I found one, I hastily cleaned off the seed of lust and threw it down to the earth."

Aphrodite looked at Athena's face, glazing with anguish and little tears that ran down her pale cheeks while she recalled the horrendous offense she never knew would happen to her.

The guilt almost choked the goddess of love.

Her vision jumped into the memory of Hephaestus's face when he caught her and Ares coupling on their bed. She chewed the inside of her cheek, furrowing her brows, and sat like a sinful puny mortal that finally tasted the dagger's edge.

Aphrodite's misdeeds had, at last, reached her as she could not comprehend everything she had heard.

"Why must we gods be as imperfect as those humans?" She started to doubt.