Last Seed

"Why?" Ares relaxed his arm. "Why didn't you stay and fight?"

"I was too young. I knew very little but was certain I was too powerful. My place in the cosmos was written into my birth... the last spark of fertility that Father Sky had or would ever have... I had to flee. The Titans would have enslaved me to their will if I did not."

Ares withdrew his sword and set it beside them.

"The Fates prophesied a curse on all the sons of Ouranos. They would fall at the hands of any children sired by Cronus Pantodynamos, the Tyrant. I swore I would only return once the last scion of Ouranos had been defeated. It wouldn't have been safe for me otherwise. It wouldn't have been safe for any of you," Aphrodite said and cupped his cheek. "That's when I saw you."

He rested on his elbows again, hovering over her. She was no Gigante or she would have shrunk away from his sword. If she were a Titan... well... castration was the best scenario he could imagine for himself for threatening her in such a way. He was still within her— an awareness brought to bear when she stirred him to life again. Ares pressed his thumb against the single tear that had trailed into her hairline, and cradled her face. She was power and vulnerability all at once and he was possessed by the urge to protect her, even if, as she said, all her enemies were vanquished. And even if, he shuddered, she was more potent and powerful than he was. "Where did you go, koritsi mou?"

"East. Across the deserts and mountains, to the land of two rivers. The Euphrates. I brought water and life wherever I walked in the desert. I met a shepherd king. He called me Inanna. I took the name; I hid under its protection. Together he and I diverted rivers. We built an empire of gold and cattle. We had a son. Then..." She looked away from him her face lined with pain. "He died."

Ares bit his cheek and sank deeper within her, pressing his groin to hers possessively. He turned her chin to face him again. "I don't like you speaking of another man when I'm with you," he growled.

"Were you a virgin before me?" She shot at him.

"No."

"Did you expect me to be a virgin? A blushing little flower?"

Ares shook his head. No, he thought ruefully, she was no virgin— even before he'd seen to it.

"That one little flower you pursued as one pursues a pure and proper wife..." Her eyes narrowed and Ares swallowed the lump in his throat. She smirked. "There is darkness within the girl you call Persephone."

"And what would you know of her? You've been gone for aeons, as you say..."

"Because I knew that incarnation of her, what she represents; the aspect of her that the people of Uruk called my sister: Ereshkigal. I left my true self at the gates of Irkalla, her home, as payment to find the one I lost. But there was no way back for him."

"I want you to forget that man," he said, pushing into her. I want you to forget about anyone's touch but mine.

Aphrodite gripped Ares head at his temples and pulled him to her body. She rolled until he lay supine beneath her, their connection unbroken. "I do not forget my lovers." She stilled upon him, resisting him when he groaned and tried to push up from underneath. "You are Olympian. I know your kind's appetites, and the appetites of your forefathers. Can you say with certainty that you could spend all eternity faithful to me?"

Ares looked away and clenched his jaw. He knew himself. And he wasn't about to lie to her.

"I thought not," she rose and fell upon him again, burning away those thoughts. "But you and I... my Ares...my love..."

He tensed, his hands falling to her hips. Ares rammed up into her, pinioning her on his cock. "Tell me what you want from me."

"Want?"

"What is if you desire of me? There are gods more powerful than I with which to ally yourself. You walked up onto this beach from the realm of one of them."

"I will tell you. But answer me this first: what do you see when you see me?"

He paused. She didn't know. She was the Goddess of Love and Beauty. But her form was malleable. She could only know her visage through the eyes of her lovers. "A beautiful woman. The most beautiful woman that exists."

"Tell me?" Her eyes pleaded with him. It wasn't vanity that compelled her.

"Your hair is red. Deep red."

"Like the girls of Thrace."

He stirred below her. "Yes. Like the girls of Thrace. Your eyes, though. They are polished iron, and..." He traced her cheek roughly with his thumb and smiled. "You have freckles. Little ones across your cheeks and over your nose. I want to kiss each one of them." She returned his smile and he tilted his head to the side. "What do you see when you see me?"

"A second question wrapped up within your first. Like you, I see what I desire most."

Ares stilled, waiting. He swallowed, afraid of what her words would be.

"I see the great and powerful god you shall become. Mortal kingdoms, the gods they worship, rise and fall. And with me by your side, yours will dawn one day..."

"You speak nonsense..." Ares shook his head and pulled back from her.

"No," she said, pushing on his thighs with her ankles. "I speak the truth. I will show you."

Aphrodite gripped his temples, pulling his face to hers as she rode him.

"You see me as you wish to see me as a part of what I am. Now I will show you the part of you I seek, Enyalios... my Ares..."

Ares shook, images and blurred faces invading his mind, warring with pleasure. He widened his eyes.

"I would be ever at your side," she said.

He saw vast armies as populous as cities, march out in all directions, clad in his red. She showed him a city built of stone and warriors anointed in blood in his name, weapons of iron and fire and impenetrable phalanxes. Enemies enslaved or crucified. Statues and banners and temples bore his likeness but his name was spelled out in strange letters— written in a different tongue.

"You will be the god worshipped foremost by an empire that will ring the whole of the Mesogeios. An empire that will conquer Africa. Asia. Europa. A hundred cities and scores of tribes will know your name— will pay tribute to us."

"Us?" He pulled her hands away, stopping the onslaught of visions, then lay back against the earth, trying to absorb what she'd said. "Do you mean to bring down Olympus, woman? To go to war and lift you and I as King and Queen and throw us all into pandemonium?" He snarled and grabbed her wrists, pinned her hands above his head, her nipples grazing his chest and her face level with his, nose to nose. "Whatever you think to offer me, I will not turn against them."

"You misunderstand me." She whispered. "I mean to join Olympus. To become one of you. To infuse your court and you foremost with my power and desires. To join you, Gigantes Slayer... Enyalios... My Ares... you... You know I speak the truth."

Would you rather they look to your wretched sister for all things concerning war? Enyo had asked him as he barked his shins on rocks and brambles, scrambling up Parnassus. Would you rather be a useless god? Purposeless? Pointless?

Aphrodite crushed her lips against his. The tumult and joy she brought him in this moment gave him renewed purpose. With her he would be revered— a god that mattered. In all the ways he knew his father and mother never would believe in him, she did. To her he was worthy. Ares flexed and thrust up, met by her rising over him, triumphant. He wanted to wind himself so tightly into her arms that they could never free themselves from the other. She curled around his heart like a serpent, guarding him and threatening to strangle him all at once. Aphrodite's red hair shone in the sun, the light behind her blinding him every time she moved. He shut his eyes, feeling her, relishing her movements until she started to come undone above him. He surrendered one last time.

Afterward, Ares lay with her where he was, saying nothing, clutching her body to his. She had conquered him. He knew innately that Zeus would never let him have a consort as powerful as Aphrodite. For all that his father dismissed him, he feared Ares fomenting rebellion just as he had, just as Cronus had before him. Aphrodite would be married off, he wagered, so she couldn't destabilize his father's rule. Perhaps to Hephaestus. The lame Blacksmith was the best choice, he thought dryly, if only because unlike Ares' other bastard brothers he wouldn't challenge Zeus. He sighed. Hephaestus would at least be kind to the goddess and wouldn't use her gifts and power for ill. Hera would approve of the match. If it came down to it, Ares himself might even suggest it. He didn't like the anger that filled him at the thought, or the emptiness that quickly followed. Aphrodite lay on his chest and he brought his arms around her, listening to the waves recede and the tide retreat.

At least in this moment, he was hers and she was his.