It is a shame, Jason thinks, that the deity of love is in such a loveless marriage. You offer the mortals something that none of them could live without, and yet you aren’t given the same luxury. It was a marriage arranged by your father. You had no say as you were handed over as some kind of reward. Not even the gods can escape this sort of pain, it seems.

If your husband were a better man, he might think about feeling guilty for this affair of yours, but as it stands, he feels nothing but satisfaction. It’s he loves you, he makes you happy, even if you have to keep your relationship a secret.

And a secret it shall stay, he has made very sure of that. Your husband happens to spend every night in his forge, working away until dawn. The two of you never have to worry until the sun rises, and for that, he has a trusted guard stationed outside, ready to warn the two of you before daybreak.

Jason is trying not to worry about that now, though, not when you’re in his arms. He wants to lose all sense of time until you must part from one another. “I love you,” he says quietly, running his fingers across your skin, “I know it can’t be so, yet I yearn for all of Olympus to know of our union. Oh, how I ache for the whispers of the wind to carry our story to every corner of the earth.”

He can’t bring himself to hate how much of a romantic you’ve made him.