Love & War

Ares stood on a ridge looking down at the bloodbath breaking out before him, a sadistic gleam in his unusual red eyes.

It was gruesome.

It was bloody.

People gouged each other with spears and beat the enemy with their bare fists until their own knuckles cracked open and bled freely. Flaming arrows flew rapidly, spreading fire through the ranks as other used swords to slice throats and cut clean through limbs. Screams and cries wretched the air steadily alongside war cries.

Ares’ whole body ached as he watched the mayhem, his fingers twitched on the hilt of his own sword. As God of War he could create wars while on the human plain, erroneous acts of violence with only just his presence but humans were offensive creatures and sometimes fought all on their own, with little provocation.

Those wars called to him, made him want to be amongst them bathed in the blood of any of dared face down his sword.

“Ares! Stop this,” Aphrodite yelled from behind him and when Ares turned to look at the Goddess making demands of him he was taken back.

Aphrodite was always a beauty to behold, the perfection that radiated from her could not be obtained by any sort of magic or remedy. It was hard to believe she was spawned from Uranus and rose from the sea. Though it was rare he was ever in her presence, even on Mount Olympus Aphrodite avoided him and most of the other male Gods, preferring to spend her time in the presence of Artemis, the Virgin Goddess.

“This war is not of my own,” Ares informed her, the truth slipping from his lips as more of a defense than a fact.

Aphrodite’s brown eyes held a fire in them as she stared him down in disgust, “You make it worse, you fool! You have ruined everything I have tried to work for, all for what? A few measly wars that are not even fought in your honor?”

Ares’ blood boiled in his veins at her words, this sprite of a woman dared to dishonor him like he wasn't the son was Zeus, like he was not the God of War in his own right. Pulling his sword from its position on his belt, he pointed it at Aphrodite, touching the tip against her slender throat.

Aphrodite remained in her position, unmoving except to tilt her head upwards in defiance of his threat, “Slice my throat, you swine and I swear the moment the first drop of my blood hits the dirt beneath my feet you will rue the day you dared to cross me.”

“A goddess of love knows nothing of violence,” Ares laughed cynically, even as angry as he was he still desired her. His body aching for her now instead of the war, hardening. The things he would do to her in his bed would be legendary. “I am War. I am capable of any act of violence you do not deem to strong enough to accomplish. Whatever you think to do to me as revenge holds no merit because of your weakness.”

Aphrodite did not even blink at his words, instead she downcast her intelligent gaze to look unabashedly at the growing erection underneath his chiton and armor, as if she could see right through his clothing. “That male appendage you men seem to be so attached to can easily be persuaded to cease functioning entirely. Wouldn't it be a shame for such a fine specimen of a man to become impotent, incapable of doing such a simple task as rutting with a woman?”

Immediately, Ares lowered his sword because her threat did frighten him, and it was something she could accomplish. As passion and lust ran hand in hand with love, she could give both freely… or take it away just as easily, “Return to your husband, theá.”

Ares left her with those words, disappearing before her eyes to return to his own temple. Maidens of all types dashed around frantically at his sudden appearance before rushing towards him, draping themselves over his body as fingers worked quickly to remove his armor, to make him more comfortable.

Once his armor fell away, just leaving his chiton he looked towards one of the females. She was a beauty in her own right; brown hair a shade or two darker than Aphrodite, eyes not as beguiling or bright, her body not as slender but she would have to do to sate his lusts.

If he couldn't touch Aphrodite’s flesh with his bare hands, feel her writhing beneath him, he would substitute her with other women until his unbridled lust for her faded. Lust brought on all due to that magical girdle she wore without fault, “Airlea, come with me, you are my companion this eve.”

The woman, the half human child of a lesser god, preened as other woman announced their displeasure at not being the one chosen to satisfy his lusts but he ignored them all as he headed towards his private quarters.