Percy Jackson's Greek Gods (Percy Jackson and the Olympians companion #5.5) - Rick Riordan Page 0,85

archery.

“No, my honor!” barked Ares, god of war.

“My honor!” yelled Poseidon.

“You’re already married,” Zeus snapped. “It would be my honor.”

“You’re already married!” Hera protested. “To me!”

“Curses!” said Zeus. “Er, I mean, of course, dear.”

The gods argued and shoved each other and offered Aphrodite various gifts for her hand in marriage. Poseidon conveniently forgot his wife Amphitrite and promised the love goddess all the seafood she could eat, a bunch of horses, and a set of his-and-hers matching tridents.

Apollo made up some bad haiku in her honor and vowed to give Aphrodite free archery lessons.

Ares offered to take her on a romantic chariot ride over the crushed lifeless bodies of his foes.

The other goddesses got disgusted. They started yelling at the men to grow up and stop acting like fools.

The entire Olympian council was on the verge of civil war. Meanwhile, Aphrodite just stood there batting her eyelashes, like: All this fuss for little old me? But inside she was loving it.

Finally, Hera stepped back, took a deep breath, and realized that her godly family was about to unravel. Being the goddess of family life, Hera couldn’t allow that, even if half the time she wanted to strangle the other gods herself.

She glanced at the far corner of the throne room, where one god was not participating in the argument. He sat in the shadows, quiet and dejected, knowing he had no chance of competing for Aphrodite.

Hera smiled. She had an idea, and I can tell you from personal experience that when Hera gets an idea, you should run away ASAP.

She raised her arms and yelled, “SILENCE!”

The gods were so startled, they stopped fighting.

“I have a solution,” Hera said. “As the goddess of marriage, I am responsible for picking the best husband for our dear new friend Aphrodite. I’m sure my husband Lord Zeus will support my decision…with force, if necessary.”

“I will?” Zeus said. “I mean…yes, dear. Of course I will!”

“Well, then?” Ares asked. “And may I just say, Mother, that you look beautiful today. Who will marry Aphrodite?”

“My son…” Hera began.

Ares beamed with joy.

Then Hera pointed to the opposite side of the room. “Hephaestus, the blacksmith god.”

Hephaestus was so surprised that he fell off his throne, his crutches clattering across the floor.

As he struggled to get up, Ares exploded: “What?! How can that be married to this?”

He gestured to the radiant Aphrodite, who was staring in horror at the blacksmith god, with his twisted legs, his misshapen face, his stained coveralls, and the remains of several meals in the whiskers of his beard.

“They’re perfect together,” Hera said. “A beautiful woman needs a hardworking, plainspoken, no-nonsense husband to keep her grounded!”

I’m pretty sure that’s the first time the word grounded was ever used to mean a punishment.

“Besides,” Hera continued, “Aphrodite must get married right away, or the fighting over her will never end. We can’t allow the council of the gods to be in chaos over a woman. Can we, Lord Zeus?”

“Hmm?” Zeus was distracted, studying Aphrodite’s lovely arms. “Oh! No, indeed, my dear. You’re absolutely right.”

Athena stood, her gray eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. “I think it’s a brilliant idea. And I am, after all, the goddess of wisdom.”

“Yes!” Demeter chimed in. “Aphrodite deserves a good husband like Hephaestus.”

The male gods stopped grumbling. They all wanted to marry Aphrodite, but they had to admit Hera was right. If any decent god married her, the other guys would never stop fighting about it and feeling offended. But if Aphrodite married Hephaestus…well, he was a joke. They couldn’t be jealous of him.

Besides, if Aphrodite was stuck in an unhappy marriage, that opened up all sorts of possibilities for becoming her secret boyfriend.

“It’s decided, then,” Zeus said. “Hephaestus, come here!”

The blacksmith god staggered over. His face was the color of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos.

“Hephaestus, do you take this woman, et cetera?” Zeus asked.

Hephaestus cleared his throat. “My lady Aphrodite, I know I’m not, um, very handsome….”

Aphrodite didn’t respond. She was too busy trying to look beautiful and revolted at the same time, which wasn’t easy.

“I’m not much of a dancer.” Hephaestus’s metal leg braces creaked. “I’m not witty or charming. And I don’t smell very good. But I promise to be a loving husband. I’m handy at fixing things around the house, and if you ever need a lug wrench, or a power sander—”

“Urgh,” Aphrodite said, swallowing her nausea.

“Well, that’s good enough for me!” Zeus said. “I now pronounce you husband and wife!”

So Aphrodite married Hephaestus and the celebrity ship Aphrophaestus completely dominated Olympian