AN: Trying to finish stories so I can get to writing the 'Hades and Persephone' story. It's so hard to not post on that, especially with the ideas running around in my head! D:

LW

LW

LW

Through time, the oral historians and storytellers will come to speak of this time most frequently.

They will speak of the three goddesses and the golden apple. They will say that they chose a mortal named Paris to be their impartial judge to see who was the fairest, thus earning the apple. 'The goddesses stood in front of this mortal in their full glory,' they will say, 'and each goddess tempted him with something to garner his vote.'

Hera offered to make him king of what will later be known as Europe and Asia.

Athena offered him wisdom and battle skill for war.

Aphrodite offered him the most beautiful woman in the land.

This shepherd prince, this Trojan mortal, chose Aphrodite. However, the woman that had caught Paris' eye was taken already; wed, was she, to the Spartan King Menelaus.

Yet Paris insisted on her: Helen, "The face that launched a thousand ships."

Despite the circumstances, Aphrodite agreed to his request. She had offered him any woman; she was bound by her word to carry out her offer. She aided Paris in making Helen fall in love with him. Once that occurred, she considered their deal fulfilled and left Paris to his own devices. Promptly, Paris stole Helen away and thus, the city-states became divided, as did the gods themselves.

Agamemnon, the brother of King Menelaus, led the Achaeans into battle against Troy. With them were their heroes Achilles, Ajax, Odysseus, and the goddesses Athena and Hera, along with the gods Poseidon, Hermes and Hephaestus.

With the Trojans were the heroes Hector, Paris, and the gods Ares, Apollo, and the goddess Artemis. Aphrodite was labeled with Paris' side by default - her actions a large part of the assessment. The Amazons later picked up arms to fight alongside the god of war.

Zeus claimed neutrality.

And so the tales of Homer, Virgil, and Ovid will go for the Trojan War.

LW

The first years of war was a mess, on the battlefield and off.

When diplomacy failed, arms were taken up. Aphrodite knew that was the way of man - and the gods, to a certain extent, if not tricks and plots employed. As man was forced to decide, so were the gods.

Athena refused to look at her. Artemis was the only one that visited her from time to time. Haphaestus, knowing of Zeus' so called neutrality, only made armor for those that had permission by the head of the gods to make a request. Her husband stayed on Olympus and sat near Zeus' side in order to not be tricked. Aphrodite had a feeling that he was avoiding her too, seeing as she had helped cause the beginning of this war.

Not that she was heartbroken over her husband's absence.

She could not take back what was done. She felt that she upheld her honor, her word. It wasn't as if she told Paris to pick a married woman to want or to steal the woman away from her Spartan husband; a very foolish thing to do, on all accounts. The king was the leader of a militant land. How on earth Paris sneaked Helen out had to be the most incredible mystery of all. At least the Spartan King now knows that there was a hole in his fortress.

She softly laughed to herself.

"Mother," Harmonia's young voice echoed in the temple, disrupting the silence.

As she ran inside, the priestess watching over Aphrodite's daughter jogged behind, not wanting the goddess to think that she had been neglecting her duty. During their stay here, Aphrodite thought it best for her and her daughter to stay visible. The priestesses could help her watch over her child. Goddess she was, but war was upon the city-states. She had seen war before; people - gods and mortals alike - did desperate things during war.

Harmonia reached her mother's side, holding up her basket. "They're for you!"

The lush berries and olives made Aphrodite smile. She brushed her daughter's dark red locks back. Her grey eyes were warm and kind - nothing at all like her sire's. In the years that have passed, her daughter was getting closer to her height. As of now, she reached her shoulders.

Where had the time gone?

"For me, my pearl?" She brought her arms around Harmonia. "We'll have a splendid afternoon meal now."

In this temple was a haven. Priestesses gave food and drink to the children and mothers, along with temporary refuge to lovers. They cared not from which side of the war they were from. Aphrodite decreed her temples as sanctuaries, daring anyone to attack them and bring her wrath.

After hearing her part in the beginning of the war, armies thought twice about raiding them and other temples of the gods. She knew that this fear of the gods will only stop them for a while. Soon, battle will be deeply embedded in them and the mortals will grow bold.

It happened every time.

"We have fresh goat cheese and bread," one of the priestesses spoke as the items were spread out on the wooden table. "There is wine, but we are saving it for your festival, my Lady. However, we can bring some out now if you wish it."

The Aphrodisia Festival. The time really has flitted away.

Not many will participate. Her loyal followers will: citizens of Cyprus, Delos, and some other places. But overall, she had a feeling the celebrations will be smaller this year. The other years since the war began were small; the longer the war went on, the smaller the festivities will be each year. A part of her understood, even acknowledged that she had a hand in the start of the war - whether purposeful or not - so she felt the need to redeem herself, hence her temples as sanctuaries. Another part of her was frustrated with herself, with Ares, with the mortals, with Athena and Haphaestus...

There were too many things to identify.

"We can save the wine," she finally answered.

"Yes, my Lady."

Some nectar was poured into her goblet and she lifted the cup. The lip of the cup hovered against her mouth when her instincts went off, stilling her hand in the air.

"Mother?"

She raised a hand up, halting conversations.

Aphrodite's brows were furrowed as she focused on the alert, her goddess sight allowing her to see beyond the mortal eye. She saw, in her mind's eye, four men fighting - two on a chariot and two on the ground. One of the chariot men killed someone trying to untie the horses. Then the champion Diomedes slew one of the chariot riders with a spear in retaliation. She frowned as the remaining figure on the chariot looked familiar, but with all the grime and dirt it was hard to tell. The last chariot rider cried out as another spear nicked his side, hitting his hip and cutting the sword belt clean off.

She felt the blood drain from her face as she recognized the voice. "Aeneas," she breathed.

"My Lady? What troubles you?"

Quickly, she stood up and waved her hand over her body. "Gather clean water and rags for binding!" she told a nearby priestess before her hand went over her face.

"Lady Goddess!"

"Mother!"

The priestess's question was left unanswered, Aphrodite's form now gone.

LW

In the beginning of the war, Ares picked no side.

He attacked indiscriminately, ruthlessly killing anyone within range. He had unresolved frustration and anger that needed to be released. All that time in the jar of those giants, the humiliation of losing to the half mortal Heracles, then the lingering loss of Aphrodite to the dead man Adonis...

Unfortunately, he could go on with his grievances.

He sliced, wounded, beheaded, dismembered, slaughtered, crippled - he was a force of uncontrolled brutality. He reveled in his element. He excelled in war, in battle and in bloodshed. He wanted the earth to be coated red and have swords and spears sticking in the ground instead of flora and fauna.

This is what defined him.

When he slaked his thirst for now, he simply stepped back, cloaked himself, and let the battlefield feel his blood lust. He could see when it affected the mortals. It was a ripple in a lake, first the ones closest to Ares feeling the desire for blood and attacking more forcefully. Then, those near them retaliated in kind, passing it on to those near them until the entire field was infected.

He smiled a dangerous smile.

LW

Ares was eating when Apollo came.

"Quite a mess you have made," the sun god murmured. The once active field was now a graveyard, a few survivors crawling out of the mess to find help. But Apollo could tell by the extent of their injuries that they would not live for much longer. "You have been named correctly, I dare say."

"Is there a point to this visit?"

Apollo shrugged. "Artemis sent me, though I do not see why." He bent down a grabbed a piece of boar from Ares' fire pit. "This needs more time," he muttered and then spat out the meat. "Much too raw for me."

"What business does Artemis have with me?"

"Have you heard of the Achaean champion Diomedes?" Ares did not respond. Apollo was used to his ways. "He tried to combat me twice already." He shook his head. "He's looking to break Heracles's record I suppose. Heracles injured two Olympians, correct?"

Ares narrowed his eyes dangerously. Apollo smiled.

"Yes, well I think Diomedes looks to challenge that record." Apollo sat down and put the rest of his meat on a stick to cook more. "I'm not opposed to record breaking myself, but really. How is challenging a goddess with no war experience supposed to gain proper notoriety?"

"A goddess?"

Apollo pointedly looked at Ares past the flames. "The goddess of doves, pearls, and sea foam."

Ares immediately stood up. He grunted as he realized he only had half of his spear handy. The sword was in the guts of three men and the shield had broken after beheading its 180th soldier. It was ten more than the last shield, but he was rather disappointed that it didn't make it to a clean 200th.

Though, now was not the time to think of this.

"I'll mind the meat," Apollo calmly called out, however, Ares was already gone.

LW

Aphrodite was afraid.

When she first arrived, she undid her sash and tried to try to stop the bleeding. The metallic smell of blood and smoke nauseated her; the open wound exposing broken flesh and torn muscle did nothing to calm her. Thankfully, Aeneas was unconscious or else she would have to deal with his pride as a warrior.

She highly doubted he would appreciate her intervention.

Aeneas' horses whinnied as they were still attached to the chariot. She looked away from the horses, seeing that Diomedes approached with spear in hand.

"I hold no ill will towards you, goddess of love," Diomedes stated out loud, "however, my goddess Athena had asked me to wound you, should I ever see you." He lifted the spear up and her heart raced, despite being immortal. "She is my muse and protector - you understand."

Her fingers tightened on the sash. In a protective manner, her other hand went across his chest to hold his shoulder. Aeneas' sword belt lay nearby but she wasn't certain if she could wield it.

"I understand your part," she murmured, her hand going towards the belt as she talked. There really weren't many options left. She could transport herself fairly easily, but to transport a mortal took a couple more seconds. Diomedes wouldn't give her those seconds willingly, of that she was certain. "I admire your loyalty, unlike your goddess."

"You think Athena disloyal?" Diomedes shook his head in disbelief. "Forgive me if I don't take your word."

"If a trusted friend told a soldier to attack you," she murmured with a hard glint in her eyes, "would you not think him disloyal?"

He was silent for a second. Then, he chuckled. "You cannot distract me, goddess. I will not allow you to take Aeneas away!"

She swallowed. That was her initial plan and like a true warrior he saw through it. She steeled herself as Diomedes' spear left his hand; almost simultaneously, she withdrew Aeneas' sword from its scabbard, bringing it up to deflect the spear. The sword was heavier than she had anticipated. She quickly brought her other hand to help wield it.

The spear was deflected from impaling her chest, but it still injured her, the cold metal slicing into the flesh of her shoulder.

"Ahh!" came her pained cry.

Instinctively, she dropped the blade in order to clutch her shoulder wound.

"You deflected," Diomedes said with a half smile, "well, well. I must admit, I didn't think you were capable."

Aphrodite sat up, withholding the urge to whimper as the movement made her wound sting. She was going to pick up the sword again, but her instincts were alerted once more, making her still. She mustered her courage, putting every ounce of confidence in her next words.

"Leave now and no harm shall come to you."

He laughed. "You're capable but you're not a warrior, goddess. I still need Aeneas dead."

"I'm not," she agreed, giving him a grim smile, "but he is."

He frowned and then a chill ran down his spine, feeling someone behind him. Before he could turn around, a half spear cut through his shoulder, making him cry out. Diomedes quickly back-stepped, avoiding a swift gauntlet fist.

Ares, god of war, was here.

The god took a moment to survey the extent of Aphrodite's injuries. He relaxed a little upon seeing only one injury, but then his eyes narrowed on her bloody shoulder. Her white tunic was slowly staining with dirt and blood, her slender fingers being tainted with the task of trying to stop the wound from pouring more blood. The strings of pearls in her hair were coming undone, pitifully drooping in her locks.

The image was horribly wrong.

"Leave," he commanded her.

She pursed her lips.

"Do not argue with me," he coldly stated, "I'm not in the mood."

"...Fine," she tightly replied.

Before anyone else could stop her, she waved her hand for transportation. Ares' eyes grew colder when she moved her hand over the mortal near her, transporting him with her.

"You are my challenge now?" Diomedes haughtily asked, already in Aeneas' chariot with only a shield.

"I am your death," Ares corrected, his eyes flashing murder.

LW

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AN: This took so. Much. Research.

Did you know there are two Diomedes: one's Ares son and the other's the Greek champion? I obviously didn't, so originally, it was a fight between father and son, but then I found out that Diomedes is actually two people, which called for editing. And then I was confused on the timeline of events, which called for major editing once I somewhat figured it out.

Side note: 'Achaean' is like the older form of 'Greek.'

Kudos to those who knew the Trojan War was coming.