Hephaestus
Hera watched Zeus travel down to earth, knowing full well that he was on his way to see another mortal woman. She sighed. She couldn’t keep punishing the mortals; it didn’t give her the same pleasure it used to because Zeus would just move on to the next woman. This time she needed to take revenge on Zeus.
“If I have a child of my own, maybe Zeus will see what it feels like,” Hera thought to herself. She willed herself to get pregnant and watched helplessly as Zeus continued his trips to earth.
Months later, when Hera gave birth, Zeus was once again missing; he had never even noticed her growing belly. Hera’s midwife approached her cradling a swaddled baby.
“Mistress Hera, your new son. What is his name?”
“Hephaestus,” Hera said beaming. But when she saw the disabled infant, her smile vanished.
“What is that?” Hera leaned back, repulsed.
“This is your son,” the midwife replied. “Isn’t he…adorable?”
“Very,” Hera retorted. “Now give him to me.”
Hera struggled to her feet, baby in hand, and hobbled toward the palace’s towering pillars. In one motion, she hurled the newborn god out of Olympus and turned around in a huff.
Hephaestus fell for nine days before landing in the sea, where he was rescued by the sea nymph Thetis. Thetis took pity on the baby and decided to raise him as her own.
Even as a newborn, Hephaestus had a way with tools and was able to construct and deconstruct machines. By the time he was a teenager, he could build machines and robots that seemed to have minds of their own. Working in the forges, Hephaestus’s upper body became swollen and muscular; his legs stayed deformed, however, and he needed crutches to support his disproportionate body.
One day, he decided to return to Olympus to confront his mother and exact revenge. He had built new thrones for all the gods, and he carried them behind him as he rode to Olympus on a donkey.
“Gods,” said Hephaestus, announcing his presence. “I’ve returned.”
All the gods wondered who this stranger was-- all except Hera, who was aghast. Everyone turned to her.
“Hera?” Zeus demanded. “Who is this young man?”
Hera could hardly catch her breath before Hephaestus replied, “I am your son, Lord Zeus, and Hera is my mother.” Hephaestus decided to make Zeus think he was his father to avoid the complications that came with having only one true parent.
“She must not have told you about me, but no worries,” Hephaestus said cheerfully. “I’ve brought thrones for everyone.”
Hephaestus unveiled the new thrones before the assembled gods. Apollo and Artemis got gold and silver thrones, Dionysus got a throne of grapevines, and Demeter got a throne of wheat and flour. All the gods looked elated with their new gifts and immediately tested them out. All except for Hera.
She looked at her throne skeptically and noticed the intricate artwork etched into the diamond and crystal. Hera couldn’t understand why Hephaestus was being so nice, but seeing all the gods oohing and ahhing at their beautiful new thrones, she finally sat down. Immediately, invisible bands encased her arms and legs, binding her to the throne and cutting off all the ichor, or godly blood, to her hands and feet. Another band wrapped over her mouth, suffocating her, before the other gods finally took notice.
“Mother,” Ares asked incredulously. “Why are you so purple?
Hera could only let out a muffled scream.
Zeus looked right at Hephaestus. “Release her immediately,” he ordered.
“Father,” Hephaestus said, “I thought you would be happy she is gone. Now you no longer have to sneak around and you can do as you please.”
Hephaestus then turned his attention back to Hera. “You discarded me just because I was ugly. Now you will be punished for it, and you will stay like that forever.”
With that, Hephaestus mounted his donkey and rode back down to the mortal world. He took residence in a mountain and set up for work. He hammered away creating gadgets and weapons, causing fire and lava to spit out of the top of the mountain.
Meanwhile, the gods on Olympus tried their best to break the bonds to free Hera.
“Ares,” Zeus bellowed. “Go down and work things out with Hephaestus.”
“Yes, Father,” Ares obeyed, picking up his biggest sword.
Ares rolled up to Hephaestus’s forge in a chariot pulled by twin fire-breathing horses.
“Hephaestus,” Ares cried out. “Show yourself!”
The hammering didn’t stop.
“Hephaestus!” Ares cried even more loudly.
The banging stopped and Hephaestus peered out of the dark.
“What do you want, brother,” Hephaestus muttered under his breath. “I’m busy.”
“Release Hera now, or face my fury.”
“No,” Hephaestus said unimpressed. He began to make his way back to his forge, his crutches creaking as he walked.
“Don’t you turn your back on me when I’m talking,” Ares said, his confidence waning.
Hephaestus continued to walk away. Ares’s horses breathed columns of fire at Hephaestus, singeing his hair but doing no harm.
“Ares,” Hephaestus snickered. “Do you forget? I’m the god of blacksmiths. You can’t hurt me with those little horses.”
Hephaestus continued chuckling as he picked up his hammer. Infuriated, Ares charged at the god with his sword, ready to drag his lifeless corpse back to Olympus. Just as Ares was about to land a blow, Hephaestus turned and seized the blade, crumpling it into a molten pile. He swung at Ares’s head with his hammer, denting his helmet and sending the god running out of the forge in a hurry.
All the gods watched as Ares limped into Olympus battered and beaten.
“Well,” Zeus said impatiently. “How did it go?”
Ares just glared at him and retreated to his arena to practice and sharpen his swords.
All the gods looked at each other, no one daring to go find out what happened.
“Well,” Zeus challenged, “who’s going to get Hera out of this mess?”
From the back of the room, Dionysus spoke up, “I’ll do it, sire.”
“What are you going to do?” Apollo sneered. “Throw some wine at him?”
“You’ll see.”
Dionysus brought many bottles of wine along with him on his journey to see Hephaestus. Finally arriving, Dionysus knocked on the door, asking loudly for Hephaestus, “May I come in?”
Hephaestus popped his head out through one of the windows.
“Whatever you want, you can’t have it,” Hephaestus growled. “You’re not making me go back there.”
“Oh,” Dionysus thought quickly. “I don’t want to make you go back. I just want to chat.”
Seeing this seemingly nonthreatening god on his doorstep, Hephaestus agreed to let Dionysus in. They exchanged pleasantries and ended up chatting the whole day, Dionysus not once bringing up Hera’s name. This continued for weeks as the two became more comfortable with each other.
One day, Dionysus handed Hephaestus a cup of wine. Hephaestus drank the cup in half a second and smiled, “What is this? This is good stuff. Give me another.”
Dionysus refilled Hephaestus’s cup again and again, until Hephaestus was extremely drunk.
“You know what would be nice, brother?” Dionysus said slowly.
“What?” Hephaestus said in a daze.
“If you came back with me to Olympus and freed Hera.”
“Now why… why would I do that?” Hephaestus slurred. “She doesn’t deserve it.”
“Did taking revenge make you feel any better?” Dionysus asked.
“Well, no,” Hephaestus responded thoughtfully.
“Then why are you still here and not trying to fix your relationship with your mother?” Dionysus asked.
“Well... I don’t know,” Hephaestus stammered.
“Come back to Olympus and free your mother, and you will see how free you will feel.”
Still very drunk, Hephaestus agreed to go, and the two slowly made their way back to Olympus.
Busting open the doors, Hephaestus tried to make his entrance as dramatic as possible. He slowly approached the ever purple Hera. The gods watched in awe.
“In order to do this, I need to flip you upside down,” Hephaestus said with a grin. In fact, Hephaestus had no reason to flip Hera upside down but wanted to tease her one last time before letting her go. He tinkered in the back of the throne before flipping a switch and dropping Hera on her head in the middle of the palace floor. Hera just lay there motionless as the other gods, relieved, took their spots back on their thrones, joined by Hephaestus, the new god of blacksmiths.