The fireplace crackled warmly in the massive living room as the gentle hum of Christmas morning filled the Everett Manor. Amid the laughter of children and the soft murmuring of new romance, three women held court at a corner of the house like a holy trinity of motherly chaos and order.
Aphrodite, the goddess of love herself, was practically vibrating with energy. She peered mischievously around a corner, straining to overhear snippets of conversation. She could barely contain her squeals at the amount of blossoming romance blooming all around her domain—Hestia and Hel, Chase and his wives, Isaac and Talia, and even Alice and Lila. It was like watching a garden of love bloom in fast-forward, and it was driving her gloriously mad.
"Just a little peek~" Aphrodite whispered to herself, leaning further into the hall.
"Aphrodite," came Leto's sharp, unimpressed voice.
