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Aphrodite is coming back, Hera told him in that maternal voice of hers. Stern yet not unloving, for she loved her child more than anyone else, her tone one that Ares had yet to win a fight against. He would conquer it once, he chanted the promise; defeat tasted too bitter for his liking.
Do not disrespect her, she murmured, wash off the blood.
Lady Aphrodite, he thought to himself. A goddess he had yet to meet. She was there for his birth, that much his mother had told him. Held him lovingly before laughing and running off somewhere no one but her lovers could find her.
Perhaps the most requested of us all, he remembered his father Zeus saying. Ares had to admit such a statement was beyond his understanding. He had yet to encounter her as a young man he had grown into years later after she had cradled him at birth, so his lack of memories of the Lady might have been the cause, however - the mortals had called upon his name more times than his father sought a new lover.
They feared him, revered him, begged him, sang his praises and offered him gifts, all for some short few moments of his attention on the battlefield. And he would return to Olympus covered in glory and blood, both of which his sister Athena would come to frown upon, and bathe in the pleasure only battles made him feel.
Such was the world of Ares.
It could be cruel, exciting, full of rage or screams of victory.
It was all he ever knew, and all he ever wanted to know. It was, after all, what he was born for.
How the goddess of beauty and love could fit in there, Ares was unable to picture.
Await her where she can find you. She seems to prefer the sunlight these days.
So Ares did, comfortable in light armour that shone in late morning sun on a window facing the gates of Eos outside. To the inner side was a garden, built to his mother’s taste. Ornated with leaves of green and pillars of white and riches of gold, she banned her husband from interfering with this part of the palace.
“And who might you be?”
A sound he has not heard yet reached him from the corner of another open hallway.
It is her.
Ares had heard of her beauty, as incomparable and indescribable as it was, and still did not know what to expect to see before him.
But he did not need to.
She appeared then, and with each step that left Ares speechless she took shape of the most perfect being of all.
She moved like water she was born from, light on her feet, graced by the sun shining upon her soft naked skin and locks the shade of gold, bronze and roses.
He smiled, a little in awe. “Lady Aphrodite.”
“That would be my name,” she smiled back and stopped before him, “tell me yours, young one.”
“Ares is the name I was given.”
“Ares,” she tried, and he wondered how he could ever have liked the cries of a battlefield. “I am in the right place then. I remember you, although you were but a child.”
“I must regretfully admit I have no such luck.”
“Ah, that cannot do!” She exclaimed as she covered her peachy lips, “forgettable is not what I like to be called.”
“I would dare not, Lady Aphrodite.”
“Lie not, dear. Even if I was not here, I have my ways, and rumours about you were not few. Dares and challenges are no stranger to you now, are they?”
“They are not. I am the God of war, after all.”
“Why, isn’t that a wonderful thing! I am the Goddess of love, my dear, and most pleased to have met you.” She bent in a bow all too exaggerated to hold any real meaning behind it.
And all Ares could do was to keep wondering, if he can read her at all. But unknown territories existed to be conquered, and he had been given reason enough.
“Lady Aphrodite, will you allow me a question?”
I would, she smiled again, but where would be the fun in that?
“You may try. I only give answers to good ones, however.”
The tips of Ares’ fingers prickled.
“You called it a wonderful thing, me being the God of war.”
“I did.”
“Why?”
“Is that your question?”
“I was under the impression that you rather make love, not war.”
“Love is war, darling.” She pressed against him, smiling because she knew she owned him already, from way before they ever met.
He almost laughed at himself for ever thinking he could take her as easily as he took sides and lives. Instead, he rested his hand on her back and whispered. “War is no such beautiful thing, Lady Aphrodite. War takes lives, bonds, blood. It appeals to me; I struggle to see how it would to…someone like you.”
Beauty herself frowned and pulled back minutely. “Whatever does that mean, God of war?”
“My apologies,” he rushed, pressing a kiss to the top of her hand, praying to his father that it was not the wrong thing to do, “I did not intend to offend you. You are unlike all I have seen in a war. You do not seem…cruel.”
At that word, her beautiful, untainted face lit up. “Ah, now I understand.” And her smile grew dangerous and lovely as she leaned on his chest further, looking up at him excitedly enough to have him shiver. “You have not fallen in love yet, have you, Lord Ares?”
He stared. She looked back, long lashes framing eyes of a colour he has not found a name for yet. He would not find other words either, she knew. So she continued.
“Love can be cruel. It can be sweeter than nectar or as merciless as you. It can hurt more and deeper than a fatal wound.”
“…I can only trust you, Lady Aphrodite.”
This time, the smile was gentler. Her hand found Ares’ cape.
“It’s red.”
“Like blood.”
“Like love.” She let go. “Red is a passionate colour. I see beauty in it. I can only wish upon you that one day, you do too.”
It took Ares some moments to respond.
“You have my gratitude, Goddess of love.”
“Oh, I’ll treasure it with all that I have, my dear.” She pushed away, this time for good, and giggled when she noticed the hand on her back letting go with much reluctance. “Perhaps Hera was not wrong at all.”
“Mother? What did she say?”
Aphrodite smiled a shy smile, laughing. “To bring a robe. This,” she tapped the metallic armour on Ares’ chest, “is quite cold.”
“Oh. I had not noticed.”
“It is what you wear most often, I assume.”
“It comes off easily.”
She took his hand and it fit better than any sword he had ever held. “Let it be a promise for next time, Lord Ares.”
And Ares, speechless as he was, had to keep himself from growling as he kissed her hand once more. He held her gaze this time though, and it seemed to please her.
“I am expected elsewhere, dear, as much as your company intrigues me more. Rest assured, however. I am worth waiting for. Besides, indulging in my favourite art is not why I am here.”
“Whatever brings you to me, then?”
Could be one of the Fates, she chuckled to herself. “I am here to officially celebrate our acquaintance, young god. It would be improper not to do so. Will you share a drink with me?”
“Ambrosia?” The man’s face transpired pleasant surprise. “I would be a fool to refuse, Lady Aphrodite.”
The sly little smile suited her too, he thought, as he watched her take the first sip from the bottle. And keep it out of his reach. And before he could question it, she was there again, his world so full of her, as her lips pressed again his and he tasted the drink.
He pulled her closer and tight, let it last longer, let her laugh against him, let her go.
He swallowed, licked his lips.
Aphrodite waited, expectantly, with a satisfied look in her eyes. She knew.
She was not a battle for him to win. She was a war he had already lost. She tasted nothing like defeat.
“It’s different,” he whispered.
“Tell me, God of war,” she spoke in a lover-like chuckle, “what do I taste like to you?”
“Different,” he repeated, this time aloud, looking at her as if he could find the answer there. “Peaches,” he said, “peaches and lime.”
“Oh? Peaches and lime? Oh, how wonderful, darling!” She spun around herself delighted, light like a breeze, before she found her way between his arms and kissed him once again. “I cannot wait to kiss you more.”
“Is that also a promise for next time, Lady Aphrodite?”
“Oh, of course it is, dear, and it won’t take nearly as much time as it did until now!”
“If that is the case, I shall be visiting you shortly?”
“You shall, my dear, for I cannot wait to tell you what your flavour was on my lips!”
“Not now?”
“Oh, Lord Ares,” she smiled at him endearingly, “you will learn soon enough that I always leave a lover wanting more.”
Two hands joined behind her back and pulled her in, and by then Ares was sure his own self might not survive a laughter more.
“The next enemy I slay shall be in your name.”
“My, you are promising me a gift.” Her precious eyes looked up and for the first time, her own arms wrapped around Ares. Delicate, and strong enough to make the thought of being anywhere else but there impossible. “So be it, Lord Ares. You offer me blood, I shall save for you a rose just as red, as love and war are just two sides of a single coin. It won’t wither, ever, for as long as I live.”
“…You make it very hard to leave, Lady Aphrodite.”
“Why, thank you,” she pecked him on the cheek before stepping away, “I pride myself in being able to do so. I hope you don’t resent my all too short visit.”
“I can only resent whoever cuts your time short.”
“Your own father? A war between gods just for my sake - you truly are wonderful, Lord Ares!”
“Lady Aphrodite…”
“Do tell?”
“You have been here for far longer than I have, I am well aware of that. You’ve seen and known more. There is no need to call me Lord-”
“It pleases you when I do, and so it pleases me as well. Bother not with it. I quite like it.”
“Ah…I-”
“Yes, Lord Ares?”
He looked at her again. Perfect, as if the world was made for her, and he would give her his own, had she asked him to.
“I might be starting to understand why you said love is similar to war.”
She shone. “Splendid, my dear. Oh, I just know I’ll love you so.”
“What if…”
“I can grant you one more question before I go.”
“What if I hurt you?”
“You will not.”
He wondered, for a second, if it was the wrong thing to ask. But her hands were holding his face and her voice called to him, so perhaps it was not.
“You cannot. I will not let you, and I will teach you how not to.”
“…Understood.”
She blinked. “I was not expecting a leader to give in so easily.”
“A good leader knows when to listen.”
A satisfied grin pressed against his lips, and this one Ares knew was the last one for now.
“Zeus and Hera might be mad if I stall any longer, my dear. I have to leave, for the time being. I trust you will know where to find me next, Lord Ares.”
“I will.”
She nodded in approval. “Until I see you again, God of war.”
“Until next time, Goddess of love.”
She left him with one last smile, one last wave of her hair reminiscent of spring and of summer. One last graceful wave of her slender hand, and she was gone behind the corner of a hallway.
He looked around the garden.
The sun was still bright.
Her laughter could be heard somewhere deep inside the palace.
Ares picked up the bottle of ambrosia and took another sip, wondering if it still tasted like peaches and lime.