A while back I was exploring Greek mythology, and while reading the story of Hephaestus and Aphrodite, I was forced to do a double take. I know this story, I told myself. But how? I had never read it before. It took me a moment, but then it hit me: It was the story of a relationship between a covert/vulnerable narcissist and a borderline.
Now buckle up. The story goes:
Hephaestus was born to Hera, queen and wife of Zeus, who after discovering her son was deformed and had a lame walk, tossed him off Mount Olympus in disgust. Hephaestus fell for an entire day before landing in the ocean, and would have died had he not been saved by Thetis, the mother of Achilles.
Hephaestus then grew up on the island of Lemnos, where he was taught to become a master craftsman by the people of the island. There he set up a workshop under a volcano, and used various metals to craft stunning jewellery and clever contraptions.
Soon, he became known to all the gods...