A/N: I know, I know. I'm sorry this isn't a Ghost King update, but I had to get this one out of my system really fast. A quick little oneshot based on actual Greek myth (yes, Ares did like to dance. The month of March was actually dedicated to him and people honored with war dances), and my love of Swing dance and swing music. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: Not mine!
Today, he was the faceless offer in a German uniform, walking through the ranks, inspecting the amassed weapons, critiquing the drill routines. He was the face at the back of the briefing meetings, always in shadow, never quite listed on the attendance sheet, face never remembered until it was seen again at the next meeting.
And Ares liked it that way.
Gods knew they meddled enough in human affairs. It wasn't his fault that he liked to personally oversee the arms race wherever it happened; Germany, England, Russia, Japan, France (sort of), even the United States, though they vehemently denied they were doing it. Nobody could blame him for being there, and nobody could blame him for encouraging it either—the humans got this destructive tendency all by themselves.
And to think, the last war was "the War to End all Wars." The lies mortals tell themselves, Ares thought, half-amused, half-exasperated as he changed out of the stiff German officer uniform and into something more casual. If he had to be honest with himself (which he avoided doing as much as possible), this new war on the horizon had a bad taste in his mouth.
War had started to lose the personal edge that it once glorified. It was hard to feel connected with the person you just killed when you were maybe a hundred yards from the person, mowing down a line of enemy soldiers with a machine gun. He couldn't deny the elegance of some fire arms, but even so, war was becoming less about a warrior's skill and more about who had the fancier toys. But Ares didn't have time for nostalgia; he had a dance to get to. Or a war dance as he liked to think of it.
He left his apartment in Berlin, dressed to the nines, sending a roguish wink and a tip of his fedora at a pair of ladies passing on the street. His black shoes shown in the late afternoon sun, clicking merrily down the sidewalk and if it was earlier in the year, his pin-striped, double breasted suit might have been a bit uncomfortable, but the air hung crisp with the expectation of fall. Ares couldn't help but strut a little bit, he felt great. The mortals were doing their damnedest to make sure his domain was strong and he would be a bad god not to enjoy it a little bit.
Arriving at the front of the jazz club, Ares braced his legs squarely, shoulder width apart, to wait for his date. The crowd at the club was much less than what it had once been. Granted, it had really never been a large crowd like in America or England, and the people entering the club did not take time to stand outside and chatter, ducking furtively into the club, quite unlike the god who stood confidently, faintly smiling at the cars that drove by. People that took the time to notice shot him curious looks, but most didn't even see the god, eyes jumping from store front to store front. This was alright; it just meant they weren't important enough to see him.
Ares did not have long to wait. Soon a sleek black Auto Union Horch 853 with grey sidings purred to a stop. Its silver grill and waxy finish reflected the god as he approached the car to open the door. A teenage girl toppled out of the driver's seat, frantically running around the front of the car, her strawberry-blonde bob bouncing as she tried to jog in heels, cutting Ares off to open the door.
"Leave it," instructed a voice from inside. The girl immediately took a step back, head bowed, hands folded in front of her.
Ares leaned down, smirking, to peer into the shadows of the car. His breath caught as always when he saw Aphrodite. "She seems new," he said, eyes flicking to the handmaiden dismissively.
Aphrodite tsked, her dark hair done up in luscious curls, twisted up and around her face before being allowed to cascade down her shoulders. Her eyes popped and sparkled against her pale skin and her bright red of lips were particularly distracting. "You look beautiful as ever," Ares said, pulling open the door of the car so Aphrodite could slide out, offering her a hand as her satin-y purple dress shimmered.
Aphrodite cast the girl a disparaging look. "Some learn slower than others," she said dismissively, taking Ares hand and allowing herself to be pulled out of the car. "Thank you, dear," she murmured, giving Ares a quick peck on the cheek before turning to look at the girl again. "Take care of the car," the goddess instructed before Ares led her away.
Tucking the goddess of love into the crook of his arm, Ares escorted Aphrodite into the club, automatically taking off his hat as he entered the building. The two gods made a beeline for the dance floor, leaving hat, jacket, and purse at an empty table. The drums rolled out a beat that the two could not resist.
Grinning in a way that was probably most undignified, Ares had only eyes for Aphrodite as he pulled her onto the dance floor, quickly falling into the proper steps of the music. Aphrodite turned and twisted in his hand, throwing her head back and forth in a joyous movement, quickly slipping into the mood of the piece. He guided her around his back, her legs twisting side to side as she made the round. Then, with a quick breath, the flash of the smile between the two, Ares picked up the goddess, swinging her from right hip to left hip, then over his shoulder in a quick spin.
The mortals around them noticed them now, clapping along with the rhythm as the trumpets wailed. And how could you ignore the pair? Love and war? Two things that mortals craved, they could hardly look away.
Ares deftly brought Aphrodite back to her feet to the great pleasure of the crowd, before he spun her out with his left hand, flinging his right hand with a flourish and a smirk. Aphrodite laughed at the look, mirroring his motion, a seductive smile on her face, one that made Ares go breathless faster than any of dance moves they had been doing. He pulled Aphrodite back in for a quick kiss and a dip before bringing her upright, slipping into the standard Swing side to side motion.
Aphrodite laughed again, deftly going up on the balls of her feet to return the kiss as the crowd cheered. Ares's chuckled bubbled in the depth of his throat and everything felt hypersensitive; the music, the people around him, the woman in his arms. This was why dance and war went together so spectacularly, both involved all of your passion, all of your focus, and sometimes, all of your life.
The music kicked up again, swelling to an ending and Ares knew it was time for the big finale. He and his goddess traded a smile before Ares picked her up, swinging her in between his legs then up and around his back for a spin. Aphrodite locked her legs around Ares's middle and Ares completed the spin as the crowd cheered appreciatively.
Regripping the goddess to complete the move, Ares swung the goddess off of his back, loose smile on his lips as Aphrodite whipped effortless back around to Ares's front. When her feet were back on the ground, Ares guided her into a spin straight to his chest. The song ended with a flourish as the gods met somewhere in the middle, lips locking in a kiss.
The crowd around them cheered and Ares felt a flush cover his cheeks. It wasn't the audience that triggered the blush, nor the physical exertion from the dance, but something about being near the goddess of love always made the god of war loose his senses. That didn't stop him from kissing her, though. When the kiss finally broke, the band had already moved on to another song, this one with a tumbling piano as the main line.
Aphrodite stroked Ares's cheek, a small crease of worry appearing between her brows. "Are you tired, dear?" she asked, her voice husky from the kiss.
He shook his head, cupping Aphrodite's head in his hand. "Not nearly," he answered, gently kissing away the crease on her brow. Still Aphrodite fretted.
"But your cheeks are flushed," she worried, stepping back to tug Ares toward the bar. "Let's get you something to drink."
"That wouldn't help remove the blush," he joked, trailing the goddess obediently even so.
She shot a mischievous look back at Ares, eliciting a smirk from the god. "I know," she answered, her hand curling more firmly around his and Ares found he didn't have the strength to argue anymore.
After the pair got their drinks, they found their way back to the table where they had left their possessions, settling down to watch the dance floor pulse with the music. A couple mortals recognized them enough to give them compliments on their excellent dancing, but most of the mortals just enjoyed the night, tapping their feet and humming along with the music.
After a couple songs, Ares felt about ready to return to the dance floor, recovered and pleasantly intoxicated enough to enjoy it, when Aphrodite tapped on the shoulder to draw his attention over to a corner of the room.
"Is that who I think it is?" she whispered, veiled disgust in her voice.
Ares looked, peering into the surprisingly thick shadows for the well lit club, and blinked in surprise. "Is that Hades?" Ares asked in turn.
The goddess shrugged, somehow making the move elegant, and Ares wanted to forget the figure in the corner in favor of returning to the dance floor. "You should see what he wants," she said in way of response. "He's been staring at us for the past ten minutes, if you haven't noticed." Ares hadn't noticed.
He shot Aphrodite a pleading look. "He'll just ruin the night," Ares said, voice provocatively dipping low. He wasn't just talking about the dancing.
"Well then, get rid of him," she hissed back, even though she did look tempted by his unspoken offer. "I won't be able to get those dark eyes out of my mind," she said, shuddering slightly.
Ares nodded in understanding. The god of the Underworld had a way of being persuasive when he wanted someone's attention. Standing up, Ares planted a kiss on Aphrodite's hairline before walking over to where Hades sat morosely in the corner.
The god of the Underworld had a private booth with curtains that could be drawn for extra privacy. Ares pulled one half shut as he passed through, but even that motion alone was enough to signal to the rest of the club that the conversation would be private.
"Evening, Hades," Ares greeted, eyeing the god as he sat down.
The god didn't say anything, staring sullenly into his drink. Ares drummed his hand on the table in syncopation with the new song as he waited for the god to speak. Hades seemed to be under the odd delusion that being the god of the realms of the dead allowed him a certain aura of mystery. Ares rolled his eyes, quickly growing impatient.
"Any particular reason you've been eyeing Aphrodite and I for the past ten minutes?" he asked bluntly.
"What do you see out there, Ares?" Hades replied with his own question.
Ares sighed but decided to humor the god, shooting a look out over the crowd. The mortals danced with the music, drums pounding out a beat as the trumpets, clarinets, and trombones wailed. Ares teeth ground as he spotted a mortal dancing with Aphrodite and he vowed to end the conversation quickly in order to get out there and reclaim his date.
"I see a war dance," Ares answered quickly, cutting straight to the issue. He guessed that was what Hades was getting at and he didn't want to prolong the conversation any more than necessary. "Humans denying the coming war on the one hand, but demanding a fight on the other." He grinned toothily, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. "Did you come to talk to me about my domain?"
Hades nodded slowly, taking another long swig of his glass, but not turning to look at the god. "This war will be…," his voice trailed off as he shook his head drunkenly. "Another generation lost." Truthfully gods could not get drunk, but gods could lose themselves so deep in their own miseries that it was nearly the same thing.
Ares snorted, rolling his eyes at the god's moods. "We have your son to thank for that, at least here in Germany," he said, nodding his thanks to the god. "That's his voice we hear on the rad—"
"That is not my son," Hades hissed, anger rolling off the god as he finally met the god of war's fiery eyes.
Ares's stomach hollowed out at the announcement. This wasn't a mere declaration at the displeasure of a demigod's actions, this was a disowning. He blinked, trying to regain his senses after the god's pronouncement. This was nearly the exact opposite reaction he was expecting, with Zeus and Poseidon so pleased about their children in power in the United States and England respectively. It was all the rest of the gods could do to get the other two of the Big Three to shut up about their demigods for a moment in order to get anything done. But for Hades to disown his child…
"If you could hear the plans the…thing has," Hades muttered, the god's attention back on his drink as he shook his head slowly, not able to finish the sentence.
"Why tell me this?" Ares asked, feeling anger well in his chest. How on earth was he supposed to do anything about this? Things were already set and Fated, and even though he was one of the Twelve Olympians, there wasn't anything he could to alter something this big. Why bother telling him something so useless?
Hades heaved a sorrowful sigh, tossing some money on the table and leaving his empty glass where it was. He stood up slowly, adjusting his dark-as-night suit. "I want you to tell them," he said, making it clear who "them" was supposed to be. "I want you to tell them that I never approved of this. This…what is to come, was never my idea." He closed his eyes, sighing again, before opening them to evenly meet Ares's dubious gaze. "Because after this, I do not think they will believe me."
And Hades was gone, merging into the shadows as smoothly as if he was one himself. Ares sighed in turn, massaging his temples. Yes, count on Corpse Breath to ruin a good night.
Stumbling out of the booth, Ares made a beeline for Aphrodite on the dance floor, still managing to elegantly spin the goddess away from her current dance partner. She laughed at the sight of Ares again, but her expression grew somber when she saw his face. "What did Hades have to say?" she asked, the two easily sliding into the generic Swing dance step.
Ares shook his head shortly, pressing his lips to Aphrodite's to stop any more questions. "Don't worry about him," he murmured, fire roaring in his belly, confused emotions bouncing around his head, solidifying enough to manifest as a deep throated passion, which he used to fuel his dance. He spun Aphrodite out, away from him, before the two launched into a frantic, complex dance pattern, the music obediently picking up to match the gods' pace.
And Ares didn't think about it again.