The Awakening
Thursday, December 1981 - On the 600th floor of the Empire State Building, within the temple of Aphrodite
The love goddess awoke with a gasp. She is near hyperventilation at the sudden influx of memories. Calming as Lily Potter makes her place, settles herself firmly, within her being, the goddess opens her eyes–in a literal as well as metaphorical sense–to a familiar yet foreign view. In that moment, as Aphrodite rises from her rest, she can think not of but her husband. James, Hephaestus. She could barely wait for her attendants to dress her before she was racing through the doors.
In the back of her mind, Aphrodite recalls her lover left within her bedsheets. And as she passed corners, raced the streets, the goddess shed a layer of herself with each stride. Stripping herself, dispersing her essence until all that is left was Lily Potter. She blew off the thought and it’s likely result of a dozen half-bloods as a low consequence of reuniting with her husband.
At last, she came upon an elaborately designed and manufactured temple. Rough where hers was sleek. Messy while hers was clean. Advanced when she preferred classic. As she knocked upon the bronze door, it retreated back within its frame.
Hephaestus, hunched over his anvil, barely noticed the soft touches of his wife as she slipped a hammer out of his callused and shaking hand.
She snapped her fingers, a call to her attendants. “Ambrosia and nectar, now. Prepare my bathing chambers for Hephaestus and have two servings of a classic English breakfast ready in my bed chambers by the time we finish.” her English accent had been starting to seep in as she made her demands.
“Yes my lady,” the air nymph whispered as the requested ambrosia and nectar were set on the previously used anvil.
“My Lady?” another air nymph asked as Aphrodite unwrapped an ambrosia bar, snapping it in half before shoving the pair in the two immortal mouths.
“Hmm..” she answered.
“Lord Ares appears to be trapped in your sheets and seems unable to set himself free. What are your orders?”
“Hmm…what day is it today?”
“It is Thursday, my lady, the seventeenth of December.”
“Hmm…” [}a simple thought brought forward the image of an enticing Demi-legacy—Maria, and her chosen—a son of her husband, walking arm in arm into Olympus.{] “Very well. Release him, and send him on his way, then remake my bed with my seventh set. When you are done with that, have the Starks settled in their guest rooms. Dismissed.” with a snap of her fingers, the lady in mist dispersed into the wind. She then turned her attention back to the god who had devolved from shaking to full-on sobbing.
“Hephaestus, husband.” Aphrodite knelt as she took his hands into hers, “Look at me, please.”
He continued to unravel.
She closed her eyes and let out an exhale of breath, in the process expelling a several feet radius of dust and debris. When she opened her eyes once more. Her flowing white chiton was replaced with robes belonging in the 17th century, her blond locks bled red, and her ever-changing eyes settled to a deep green.
“James, love.” Lily tried once more, “Please look at me.”
“Lils?” his voice was rough and hoarse from disuse.
How long had he remembered? It was December, so it had been two months since their deaths, but she’d only just awoken. Had she been in a coma, only succumbing recently? A flash of green in the corner of her eyes had brought forward the memory of her death.} Harry!! Aphrodite redirected a straying sliver of her essence to England–in search of her son.] The killing curse, painless and immediate. James’, Hephaestus’, flinch indicated the same thought and brought her attention to further dissect her husband. The hazel eyes and wild unkempt hair of her James imposed on the familiar rugged and deformed face of the god of forges and fire. She snorted.
“What?!” he sniffled, ducking his head.
“Nothing,” she stifled another laugh, “It’s just, god of Fire, I realized why your accidental magic manifested itself as flame and ash most often.”
Hephaestus begins a laugh that soon petted off to a cough. Lily poured a glass of nectar, shoving it into his hands. He takes a sip, swallowing down the rest at her prodding.
“Now,” She rose from her crouch, and Hephaestus followed, “are you ready to go?”
“Go where?”
“You’re just as deaf as ever,” Lily rolled her eyes, “Were you not listening? To my temple, you are filthy and I’m giving you a deep clean.”
“Umm..” he scanned the forge of his temple, “I need to bottle up my newest batch of Greek fire.”
“Hmm…” she pauses a moment in contemplation, snapping a finger in mock-realization “I recall you inviting your son, Howard, for Winter Solstice just a few days from now, I trust he is competent enough for this task?”
“Well yes… but-”
“My Maria left young Anthony with their butler this time around. You need not worry about him making a mess.” she soothes.
“I-” a glare, “im- okay, let's go Lils.”