Hephaestus felt a heady mixture of emotions at the sight of Aphrodite, at her words. Desire of course, and wonder, that this, the most beautiful creature of Olympus, would be his wife. A flush of warmth that she should show such care for him, to worry about his walking. Embarrassment and a sort of spite at the same words. He flushed a little, instantly deciding that he would show her, somehow, that his legs were not a problem for him. Some sort of chariot, he envisioned, driven not by horses but by its own power. It would have to be striking, of course, amazing, so that when the gods gazed on it they forgot entirely about why he had to ride it, but only felt wonder at its making.
For now, he would simply have to show her that he could keep up with any god, no matter his gait. "My legs will be fine. But if you would walk with me, I would show you." He held the door open for her, glancing around the room. Perfectly inadequate workmanship.
"Now that I am to be one of the Twelve, and you my wife, it is only fitting we should have a proper home on Olympus," Hephaestus told her as he guided them out of the home and along the pathways of the mountain. "Of course all the gods should have them, homes to match their might. But first, I will build a palace, our palace. I hope to make it match your beauty, or as close as any immortal could hope to come to that."
Hephaestus paused at an empty spot on the mountain top. His face was as stern and sober as it always was, seeming cast in stone, but there was a nervous excitement about the corners of his mouth and in his dark eyes. He gestured to the empty spot. "This is where I will build it. A home for us, as husband and wife. A palace to proclaim to all the worlds your beauty and grace." His eyes shifted back and forth between the spot and the goddess. It was a simple meadow of wildflowers, nearing an edge to the mountain and gazing out over the clouds below, and the glint of waves far below. When Hephaestus looked at it he already saw the outlines of the building in his mind, soaring spires and open courtyards, walls as curved and delicate as Aphrodite herself.