Chapter Text
Ares was not afraid to admit he was nervous.
But there was a stark difference between the inescapable nerves that wracked the body before battle, and the nerves of facing down a man he had known his entire life. One was natural. The other was born of a deep-seated and millennia long quarrel between himself and Zeus.
There was opposition in all things, and Ares had come to know this well. His relationship with his father had been one of bickering, hostility, and anger that began when he was but a boy. For he was war and bloodshed, something messy and chaotic. His father was order, he who brought justice and kept the peace of the gods. Ares’ existence was in direct contrast to the task his father had been handed as king of the gods.
He had spent years feeling scorned, shunned, disliked. He knew now that much of it had been a projection, a misreading of the situation. His uncouth nature and penchant for violence was alarming, and he oft mistook the alarm for hatred. Hostility towards his father had been, in part, his own fault.
But Zeus had not been innocent either. Scowling every time Ares entered his office for many long years did little to establish a connection. The king shoved aside his sons’ concerns around warfare and directed them instead to perfect Athena. Never had he shown Ares the warmth he sometimes showed his sisters.
Things changed. Ares knew well enough that a person could be different, even a god, with enough time. His father was not the doting parent he had once craved in his youth, but he was kinder, more forgiving, less harsh to judge. Ares too was different - not calm, necessarily, but capable of tempering his urges long enough to be civil. They found a middle ground. They could bicker without a big blowout, for example.
The father and son they had once been were no more, but the imprint of that relationship still weighed on Ares’ conscience now.
He was not afraid of Zeus, but he could not deny the part of him that worried over the potential lack of approval. Future, love, and life were too important to be denied, and part of Ares feared that his hopes and dreams would be shattered the way they were so many long years ago.
Knuckles rapped against the door to his father’s office. Ares rocked on his toes, jaw set tight. From the other side of the door, Zeus’ deep voice emerged.
“Come in.”
Pushing open the door, Ares stepped across the threshold to meet his fate. The room seemed larger than usual, dwarfing Ares with its magnitude. Sitting at his desk, one hand holding a pen, the other a cup of coffee, was the king of the gods himself. He did not look very intimidating, but his aura spoke for itself.
“Ares,” Zeus said curtly, bobbing his head once. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
The war god came to a halt on the luscious carpet beneath his feet, hands pressed firm against his side. Shoulders back, posture straight, like a good, dutiful soldier. The less threatening he seemed, the better.
“Sorry,” Ares said. “I don’t want to take up much of your time. But I needed to tell you somethin’.”
Cocking his head to the side, Zeus regarded Ares with an indiscernible stare. “Oh?”
What remained of Ares’ confidence wavered. Would Zeus tell him no? Would he be turned away, laughed at, ridiculed? Was his confession unreasonable?
No. Aphrodite and Hephaestus had dissolved their marriage long ago, approved by the king and queen of Olympus. She was a single woman, free to do as she chose. He was a single man, a prince and an heir, and he would do as he chose as well.
“I am going to ask Aphrodite to marry me.” Though his voice did not wobble, Ares knew he lacked the gumption he had been going for. Clearing his throat, he stood a little taller. “I am not askin’ for your permission. I am simply tellin’ you as respect to your authority.”
Stomach churning, Ares fought off the urge to vomit. If Zeus was surprised or angered by the declaration, he showed no signs of it. The king pursed his lips, setting his pen and coffee down.
Ares’ mind wandered to Aphrodite, her stunning smile, her gentle teasing, her fire when she was angry, and her kindness when she regarded their children. Ares had known very little love in his life, but with her, he was overcome. He had lost his chance to love her the way she deserved so many years ago, and with this opportunity before him, Ares could not waste it. She was everything to him. He would make her the happiest wife on Olympus, if only he was given the chance.
“That’s what you want, then?” Zeus asked finally, regarding Ares with a curious stare. “To make her your wife?”
Ares nodded his head so vehemently, brown curls fell into his eyes. Pushing them away, Ares gathered his voice. “Yes. It’s what I have always wanted.”
“Then ask her.”
The clenched fists at Ares’ side unfurled. His tight jaw sprang apart, hard stare softening. He had been prepared for resistance, for a fight. This was better than he could have imagined.
“I told you I’m not askin’ for your permission.” The words came out weak on a relieved puff of breath. A thousand pound weight lifted from his chest, and Ares was certain he could breathe better for it. The nerves that twisted his belly disappeared, replaced by a warm, almost disbelieving joy in his chest. Loathe as he was to admit it, perhaps Ares had craved his father’s approval more than he thought.
Zeus’ mouth quirked with the ghost of a smile, eyes twinkling. “I know you’re not.”
Ares chewed the inside of his cheek to stop himself from grinning. “Good.”
Silence followed. Zeus continued to stare at him, with that same, impossible to read expression. Ares shuffled awkwardly under his gaze, unsure if he should stay or go. Was it appropriate to say thank you? Zeus had not done anything particularly generous, but the relief Ares felt was indescribable.
“Have you thought about how you’re going to do it?” Zeus broke the silence, his eyes softening as he did.
A jolt ran down Ares’ spine, heart skipping a beat. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach, and though he did not wish to show his giddiness to his father, he could not contain the small smile that tugged at his mouth. “It’s all I’ve thought about for years, father. It’ll be perfect. I’ve asked the kids to help.”
“She is deserving of something remarkable,” Zeus agreed. “You know her best. I’m sure she will be thrilled.”
Ares nodded. He had a date in mind, a script he had practiced over and over again in the mirror, every night before bed. Aphrodite would have the world, and he would be the one to give it to her.
Pleased with the outcome of their talk, Ares turned to leave. Before he could, his father spoke again, this time more stern.
“Does your mother know?”
Ares hesitated, one hand on the door handle. “She’s my next stop. I wanted to celebrate with her, y’know? And that kind of depended on this conversation.”
Zeus seemed satisfied by that answer, leaning back in his chair. He steepled his fingers before him, and Ares nearly laughed at the humour in it. Why had he been so afraid to tell his father this news?
“I’m sure she will be happy to hear it.”
Ares hoped so. His mother had not always approved of his relationship with Aphrodite, but in all their years - and several grandchildren later - she had changed her opinion. Hera had always told him she wanted what was best for him, and Ares had never been so sure that Aphrodite was best.
He should have left then. Ares had what he had come for; proper deference and a warning to his father of any major changes to Olympian affairs. But something stilled him, a deeper, innate desire, that childlike and desperate grab for approval.
“You’re really okay with this?” Ares whispered, glancing over his shoulder. “You’re not angry?”
For the first time since Ares entered the office, his words seemed to catch Zeus off guard. Blue eyes widened, mouth twisting in displeasure. “I am. I’m honestly surprised it took this long. You and Aphrodite have been smitten for a long time.”
“I love her,” Ares said. “But I guess I was a little… worried about what you and mom might have said.”
Zeus shook his head, reaching for his cup of coffee. “You have nothing to worry about from me, I assure you. You deserve each other. I should have told you that a long time ago.”
A lump formed in Ares’ throat. “Thanks.”
“I’m happy for you, Ares.”
The lump grew, and Ares sucked in a deep breath through his nose to keep himself composed. He threw open the office door, stepping across the threshold and out into the hall. Before he could flee, Ares halted and threw his father one last glance. It was even accompanied by a small smile.
“Thanks, dad. You’ll know when it happens, I’m sure.”
Ares fled down the hallway before he or his father could say anything else vaguely nice or supportive. As he went, there was a distinct pep in his step.
He was getting married!