“Where am I?”, she asked dazedly, looking around her.
“Don't be afraid”, Zephyr soothed, “I will help you. You can trust me.”
Just then, Eos, goddess of the dawn peeked over the horizon, her rosy face glowing. Then she saw Aphrodite, and excitedly exclaimed,“Uncle Zephyr, blow the maiden to Cythera, the graces will meet her there. I must tell Zeus, because she is an immortal being, possibly even a goddess! Zeus needs to hear about this!”
“As usual, my niece,” Zephyr breathed, “you are right.” And with gentle puffs, he guided Aphrodite to the flowering island of Cythera, where the Three Graces were waiting. As they spotted Aphrodite nearing the shore, three swans told them what had happened. All at once, they started chattering.
“I will give her my jeweled robe, for if she is going to Olympus, and is a possible goddess, she needs to dress nicely to make a good first impression. Oh! I’d better get my comb, and some ointments too.” fluttered the first grace, that was the least practical, but also the one most attentive to details called Style.
“Olympus!” screeched the second grace, who was quite the drama queen, and was called Drama “Well she has to arrive in style, and flash. I will get my golden chariot for her to ride in.”
The third, who was practical and convincing, called Persuasion, replied “She will need attendants, of course, and creatures to pull the chariot, but they must fit her personality, so I will see if I can find eight doves, willing to carry a possible goddess around. That shouldn't be too hard.”
“But what about ATTENDANTS!!!!!” screeched Drama, who was getting very anxious.
“Duh, if she becomes a goddess, she’s going to be the goddess of beauty, or something like that, so we wouldn't be, so being her attendants would be the next best thing, and we probably fit her personality.” replied Style knowingly, and maybe a bit jealously.
When Aphrodite landed on Cythera, the Three Graces welcomed her, and explained that she was a possible goddess that she was a possible goddess. They dressed her in Style’s s soft shimmering robe, and decked her in jewels, combed and styled her hair, adding quality ointments to her already flawless face. When she was ready, they placed her in Drama’s golden chariot, pulled by ten of the gentlest, most graceful, strongest doves Persuasion could find, and went up to mount Olympus.
When they reached Olympus, the gods and goddesses had no doubt that she was the twelfth god, and so she was given a golden throne in the hall of the gods.
Zeus, the chief of the gods, was afraid that the gods might fight over Aphrodite’s hand, so to prevent it he quickly chose a husband for her.
“Hermes, Poseidon and Hades are already married,” Zeus reasoned, “ and Apollo does not want to marry, so that leaves Ares and Hepheastus, Hepheastus is the more faithful of the two, so Aphrodite will marry Hepheastus.”
Hepheastus, god of the forge, could hardly believe his luck, and put all his skill into making the most beautiful jewels for her. He made her a girdle so perfect, and so interwoven with magic, that anyone who saw her while she was wearing it, would instantly fall in love with her. That was a mistake, because she was too irresistible already.
Aphrodite loved gaiety and glamour, and hated being the wife of sooty dirty Hepheastus. Daily she grumbled, “if only I had been given a choice! A little choice between Ares and Hepheastus, Ares is so much more handsomer, I would have chosen him. Oh I can’t believe my rotten luck...”
Once a year, Aphrodite returned to Cythera, and dived into the sea from where she came. Sparkling and young, she rose from the sea, as beautiful as on the day she had first been seen.
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