Chapter 403
Now within the Hephaestus Familia compound, Draco quickly made his way towards Hephaestus’s office, or at least, he tried to.
The moment he stepped through the main gates, a wave of unfamiliarity washed over him, almost physically jarring.
His last visit, a full five years ago, had been to a large, thriving familia, certainly.
But what greeted him now was an entire small city within a city, a labyrinth of newly constructed forges, workshops, and living quarters that made the old layout almost unrecognizable.
He marvelled at the scale of the expansion.
Where once stood open fields, now rose multi-story buildings of stone, their windows glinting under the sun.
The air hummed with a different kind of energy, a more intense, rhythm of industry.
The banging of hammers, the roar of bellows, and the shouts of smiths echoed from every direction, forming a symphony of creation far grander than he remembered.
Pathways he once navigated by instinct were now obscured by new structures, forcing him to slow his pace and orient himself.
Along with the unfamiliarity came the stares.
People he didn’t know, and who clearly didn’t know him, paused their work or conversations to track his passage.
Their gazes were a mix of curiosity, suspicion, and sometimes, outright annoyance.
Draco, with his imposing height, sharp draconic features, and the distinct aura that clung to him, was not easily ignored.
He felt like an anomaly, a large, exotic creature suddenly dropped into a well-oiled machine where every cog knew its place.
Luckily, he soon spotted some familiar faces amidst the bustling crowd……older members, veterans of the forge who had been there since his last visit.
A burly dwarven smith, whose beard was now even longer and more impressively braided, recognized him with a wide, surprised grin, quickly interceding to stop a few curious new recruits from impeding Draco's path.
“Draco! By the gods, is that really you?” the dwarf bellowed, his voice cutting through the ambient noise with a hearty boom.
Draco returned the grin, his fangs glinting faintly. “The one and only, old man. You’re looking well.”
Making some small talk with the old dwarf and a few other smiths who quickly gathered, Draco learned the general direction of Hephaestus’s current office.
“She’s moved to the newer administration building, near the center,” the old dwarf explained, gesturing vaguely with a hammer-calloused hand.
“And Tsubaki? She’s close to same location, just go left of her old forge and you should find it”
The familiar faces were a welcome anchor in the sea of newness, but their presence didn't entirely dispel the lingering discomfort.
As he continued his journey, following the old dwarfs directions, he was still keenly aware of the gazes, particularly from a cluster of younger members who seemed particularly displeased by his presence.
Their expressions ranged from disdain to outright jealousy.
Flicking up a bit of loose stone with the tip of his tail, the movement almost imperceptible.
‘Is it because of the flowers?’ Draco mused.
Indeed, clutched carefully in his hands were two distinct bouquets.
The casual observer might not have understood the significance, but many in the Hephaestus Familia, particularly those who held deep admiration or even affection for their goddess and her right-hand woman, were instantly wary.
Flowers, for a man to bring to women, often signified romantic interest.
Their reaction, Draco conceded, was understandable, even if slightly amusing.
He let out a deep sigh, and tried his best to ignore them, focusing instead on reaching his destination.
Soon, he arrived at the entrance of what was clearly the administrative wing, a building distinct from the roaring forges, dedicated to the intricate, equally demanding work of managing the familia.
He found Hephaestus’s office door, a sturdy, dark wood panel with a simple brass plaque, and knocked.
Knock!
A brief pause, filled only by the distant, rhythmic smashing of hammers tempering metal.
Knock!
“Come in,” came a rather exhausted voice from the other side.
It was unmistakably Hephaestus, though laced with a weariness that tugged at something in Draco's chest.
With her permission, Draco twisted the doorknob and entered the room.
Upon stepping into her office, Draco was greeted with the sight of Hephaestus by her desk, a small, weary figure almost swallowed by the sheer volume of her responsibilities.
A dizzying, terrifying amount of paperwork was stacked not just on the side of her table, but also threatened to spill from a wicker basket beside it, and even formed precarious towers on the floor.
‘Ugh, so blinding,’ Draco groaned internally, struggling not to actually wince at the sight.
It was not that he completely hated paperwork himself…….he understood its necessity, even delved into it occasionally as the captain of his familia……but the ridiculous, truly apocalyptic amount on Hephaestus’s desk was enough to warrant such a visceral reaction.
It looked like a losing battle, a paper hydra that grew two heads for every one she managed to conquer.
Perhaps because she was too focused on her work, too deep in the trenches of receipts, reports, and requisitions, Hephaestus hadn’t yet looked up to see who had entered her office.
Her vibrant red hair, usually meticulously tied back, was slightly dishevelled, a few strands escaping to frame her sharp facial features.
Her single visible eye, the colour of a ripe tomato, was narrowed in concentration, scanning the lines of a document.
The eyepatch, a familiar patch of dark leather that covered her right eye, stood out starkly against her pale skin.
Looking at her, Draco couldn’t help but admit once again, she was indeed beautiful.
Well, all deities, by their very nature, possessed features that mortals would deem perfect.
Their forms were idealized, sculpted into the pinnacle of aesthetic appeal.
Yet, Hephaestus had a different flair to her, a unique edge that separated her from the often, almost sterile perfection of other gods and goddesses.
‘Maybe it's because of the eyepatch,’ Draco thought, his gaze lingering on the distinctive feature. Her eyepatch did indeed create a sense of dissociation from the norm, a subtle yet powerful statement of difference, much like his own draconic features, or the overt draconic forms of dragon deities.
There was an alluring quality to things that stood apart, things that didn't conform to the expected.
‘Do I perhaps feel more attracted to the unusual?’ Draco couldn't help but ponder, as he found himself staring a bit too long.
Perhaps because his gaze was heavy, a palpable presence in the otherwise silent room, Hephaestus frowned, her brow furrowing slightly.
She slowly put her quill down, a tiny clink against the desk, and finally looked up.
Her visible eye, initially dull with fatigue, widened with genuine alarm.
Her gaze snagged on his large, towering frame, so unexpectedly close, filling the front of her desk, and she was so startled that she instinctively recoiled, tumbling backward from her chair with a sharp yelp.
The chair scraped loudly, tipping precariously, an empty basket clattering to the floor.
“Ah, are you okay?” Draco, equally startled by her sudden, dramatic reaction, rushed forward with speed, extending a large hand to break her fall and prevent her from hitting her head on the floor.
“Draco,” Hephaestus muttered, her voice a surprised whisper, tinged with a faint blush that began to spread across her cheeks even as she righted herself, still held by his steady grip.
Her single eye blinked, trying to reconcile the familiar, imposing figure before her.
The last she had seen him was during Monsterphilia.
“The one and only,” Draco replied with a toothy grin, his face hovering slightly over hers, a mere breath away.
He hadn't released his grip, opting to hold her steady until he was sure she was balanced.
With his lips so close, so undeniably present, Hephaestus felt a sudden warmth flood her entire being.
The blush on her face deepened, spreading down her neck.
Her mind, despite the exhaustion, inexplicably recalled a rather embarrassing incident about five years ago, the night before Draco’s departure from Orario.
She had, in a moment of uncharacteristic impulsiveness and perhaps a touch of Bahamut-fueled courage, snuck into his room in the dead of night and, finding him asleep, planted a quick, chaste kiss on his lips.
And after being caught, she had run away in utter shame, convinced she had ruined everything. But now, upon seeing him so up close, his scent, the warmth of his hand, the memory had suddenly sprung up, vivid and potent, the embarrassment from back then feeling as fresh as if it had just happened.
“Ahem, can you help me up first?” Hephaestus asked, trying to sound composed, but her voice was still a little reedy.
She subtly tried to avoid meeting his gaze, fixing her eye instead on a point just past his shoulder.
At the moment, they were currently in a rather awkward position, with her chair tilted backward and Draco hovering over her, his large frame encompassing her, rendering her perfectly still.
His hand was still on her arm, his other preventing the chair from fully toppling.
“Ah yes, my apologies,” Draco chuckled.
“You just looked a bit too stunning to let go so soon.” He teased, a knowing glint in his eyes, as he carefully pulled her chair upright until all its legs were firmly on the ground, then released her.
Upon hearing those cheesy lines, Hephaestus felt her heart skip a beat, a frantic flutter in her ribs. Her face, already flushed, went a deeper, undeniable shade of red.
Subconsciously, her hand reached for her eyepatch, a nervous habit she couldn’t quite stop whenever she felt particularly vulnerable or nervous.
Her fingers brushed against the leather, a familiar comfort.
But Draco didn’t mind.
He had observed this habit many times before.
Hephaestus’s habit was perfectly normal, he mused.
In a heaven filled with perfect things…..perfect bodies, perfect features, perfect forms…..her single eye, hidden beneath the patch, stood out quite a lot.
It was like being the odd one out of a group, a lone discordant note in a symphony of flawless beauty.
Within eons and epochs of being made aware of this fact, of being subtly or overtly reminded of her ‘imperfection,’ it would have been much weirder if she hadn’t developed some form of trauma or self-consciousness about it.
At least, that was how it seemed from his mortal point of view.
Deities, for all their being, were still subject to their own peculiar insecurities.
To take her mind off the eyepatch and perhaps to alleviate the lingering awkwardness, Draco immediately put forward one of the flower bouquets in his hand, holding it out towards her.
The vibrant blooms were an intentional distraction.
“A little gift for a proper reunion between a beautiful goddess and the most handsome male in the mortal world,” Draco said with a wide, charming smile, his voice a low purr.
It was a line he had thought of on the spot.
What he presented was a meticulously arranged bouquet of Moth Orchids, their delicate, exotic petals a rich, deep purple, almost black in some places, contrasting beautifully with flourishes of soft green foliage.
Unknown to Draco, these particular blossoms, in the intricate language of flowers, in Orario, signified exotic beauty, luxury, and strength.
Of course, Draco didn’t know its intricate meaning…..his choice was purely aesthetic, drawn to their striking appearance.
But Hephaestus did, and a genuine, soft smile finally curved her lips, pushing past her earlier embarrassment.
Although not usually interested in flowers and other frivolous things that distracted her from crafting, she had indeed attended several tea parties amongst other goddesses who shared such interests.
So it was only natural that she had picked up one or two things about their symbolism.
“T-thank you very much,” Hephaestus said, her voice softer than before, as she gently took the bouquet from him.
She brought the flowers to her nose, inhaling deeply, and her lips spread into an enchanting smile.
The subtle fragrance of the orchids seemed to refresh her, pulling her away from the mental fog of paperwork.
“Ahem, I am glad that you liked it,” Draco replied awkwardly, suddenly feeling a little flustered himself.
The way her left eye crinkled at the corner, expressing a depth of emotion he hadn't anticipated, made it seem as though she was about to cry, which in turn made Draco feel uncharacteristically shy and unsure.
Seeing Draco’s flustered reaction, Hephaestus couldn’t help but chuckle internally, a small, private moment of amusement.
She truly appreciated the gift, even if, in her pragmatic mind, it was a touch cliché.
She would, perhaps, have much preferred an exotic crafting material – a rare ore, a unique gem, or anything that could be directly applied to her craft.
But the implicit meaning behind the flowers, a gesture of affection and admiration, was much more deep and important.
Being treated as a romantic partner, even if it was an ambiguous one, was infinitely more thrilling and emotionally resonant than she had expected, even though she knew, or perhaps assumed, it was a role she would have to share with others in Draco's rather expansive orbit.
Of course, Draco didn’t know any of this intricate internal monologue, but he was good at picking up subtle cues.
A perk of having enhanced senses meant he could somewhat read micro-expressions, the slight shift in her posture, the softening of her visible eye, and the genuine warmth in her smile.
While he might not have grasped the full depth of her thoughts, he understood the emotional uplift his gesture had provided.
Calming down her bubbly emotions, Hephaestus led Draco to a comfortable, overstuffed couch situated on the side of the office, away from the chaos of her desk.
She sat next to him, the orchids resting gently on the cushion between them.
It felt weird offering him a seat opposite her desk; that would feel as though she was dealing with a business partner or an adventurer.
Comfortably seated, Draco and Hephaestus began some small talk.
Mostly, it was Draco sharing his travel stories with Aasterinian, tales of distant lands, strange creatures, and interesting things that had happened recently since his return.
During Monsterphilia, he had shared some rather interesting anecdotes, but the events had come to an end rather quickly, leaving much more to be told.
He spoke of his observations of Orario, how it had changed, and his own adjusting to its bustling pace after years away.
Hephaestus didn’t hold it against him for not coming to see her much earlier.
Much like herself, she assumed he must have been very busy catching up to life in Orario, after all, quite a lot had changed in the five years of his absence.
She listened attentively, her fatigue slowly receding, replaced by a quiet contentment.
The mundane details of his journey, the humorous mishaps, the breathtaking sights…..all of it was a welcome escape from the relentless demands of her paperwork.
And in the blink of an eye, two hours went by as the two talked about various things.
Draco, much like a natural storyteller, held her captive with his tales.
Hephaestus hadn’t spoken as much; she didn’t think any of her stories were particularly interesting.
Her life, by comparison, was far more structured and predictable.
She had mostly spent her time in her office, her shop, or the forge, rarely venturing beyond the familia compound save for essential supplies or meetings.
So, there weren’t many interesting tales to be told, merely the daily grind of creation and administration, satisfying in its own way, but hardly the stuff of grand adventures.
However, a low, embarrassing, loud growl from Hephaestus’s stomach abruptly put a stop to Draco’s storytelling.
It was a sound that echoed disproportionately in the quiet office, betraying the goddess’s deep hunger.
Hephaestus hastily grabbed her belly with one hand, her face flushing crimson again, and looked away from him as if trying to find a hole to crawl into and disappear.
The sound was mortifying.
Draco, on the other hand, didn’t mind.
It was only natural for the stomach to growl when one was hungry, so it wasn’t weird or anything.
He had certainly experienced much louder and more persistent growls from his own metabolism on occasion.
But judging from Hephaestus’s reaction, it seemed like it mattered a lot to her.
‘Well, I was somewhat like that at some point too,’ Draco thought, remembering his earlier, more self-conscious years.
He had learned to embrace his nature, but he understood the impulse to hide such ‘imperfections.’
“Do you perhaps want to go grab some food?” Draco said, his voice gentle, seeking to break the awkward silence and alleviate her discomfort.
“Sure,” Hephaestus replied after calming down somewhat, her gaze snapping to the clock at the corner of her office.
It was currently past four in the afternoon, so a meal now would count as both her lunch and dinner.
The thought of food, away from the office, was incredibly appealing.
‘Wait a minute,’ Hephaestus wondered, a flicker of something akin to hope igniting in her weary mind.
‘Could this be classified as a date invitation?’
Her heart gave another hopeful flutter.
The flowers, the teasing, the shared conversation… it certainly felt like one.
But her musing was soon answered, and gently, definitively disconfirmed, by Draco’s very next words.
“Great, we can also invite Tsubaki,” Draco said, completely oblivious to her internal deliberation.
He waved the other bouquet of flowers he had brought in front of Hephaestus, a vibrant cascade of reds and dark pinks.
“I was going to give her this anyway.”
It was a bouquet of Carnations, a flower whose sturdy beauty and enduring fragrance made it a favorite.
And in the language of flowers, they usually represented fascination and deep love.
A/N: Feel free to read ahead on pat3on, donate and read 2 extra chapters as a free member.