The Scarlet Crown

by addine995

Their affair would have to remain a closely guarded secret. For if the King found out, he would strip them both of their royal status and to hell with laws and traditions. Aphrodite might be able to get away with it, but Ares would certainly not. Zeus had already threatened him one too many times. He ought to behave or he'd lose the few privileges he had. Please R&R.

10. Chapter 10

A/N: The Ares/Aphrodite chapter you've all been waiting for :P It took an awful lot of research and re-writing, and I would like to apologize in advance for any OOC stuff (but what can I say, I love drama). The second half of it is rated M because reasons.

Also: I usually try to avoid incorporating Greek cultural elements like music and dance because they take an awful lot of explaining for the non-Greeks to understand. But since they are Greeks in Greece, those are inevitable, so here's my TED talk:

Ares' dance is called ζεϊμπέκικο (zeibékiko) and it's a popular music genre both in Greece and in Cyprus. Mostly danced by men, it has a rhythmic pattern of 9/4 or else 9/8. Usually, a man dances it by himself, encircled by a group of people who kneel and clap according to the rhythm. It doesn't have any particular steps but the "standard" is for the dancer to do improvised and circular movements around themselves, while maintain certain figures. By dancing this, men can express jealousy, anger, frustration, lovesickness, grief etc. and the modern songs talk mostly about break-up and turbulent relationships. The dance comes from Asia Minor (where lots of Greeks lived, until the tensions between Greece and Turkey forced them to flee in the 1920s and the 1950s/60s respectively). It was named after the ζεϊμπέκιδες (zeibékides), i.e. men from Thrace who had immigrated from Greece to west Asia Minor. As a famous cliché in Greece goes, a man dances it to win over a woman or to make her jealous (even when she's not there.) For those interested, you can see this cliché in all its glory - and how the dance is danced - to the YouTube link in my profile (the first verse and the chorus are translated in the chapter).

On a serious note, there have been major wildfires going on in Greece near Athens. RIP to the more than 70 people who have lost their lives and a speedy and full recovery to the 150 hospitalized. Just throwing it in because, (fan)fiction aside, we shouldn't forget about the real world.

---

15 December 2006

Morning

Royal Suite, Hotel GB

With so many things going on, the gala and Hephaestus among others, I forgot about the one thing I am actually looking forward to.

It is actually not the first time this has happened. Lydia has always been kind enough to remind me of everything I am always excited but forgetful about when she briefs me on my day's schedule first thing in the morning. And because, as she says, I have the world's most unprofessional morning routine (whatever that means), those briefings take place - quite literally - all over the place. When I take a bath, when I get dressed, even during the holy hour when I enjoy my mint martini pick-me-up. The latter has become her favourite time to repeat all of my engagements in great detail for the hundredth time, actually. She gets to have some of those French cheeses for herself, sneaky little thing.

But that's what I get for hiring her, I guess. She's in her late forties, studied in Germany, and worked for the President of the Parliament and the Prime Minister before realizing she needed something more challenging and what better cure for boredom than me and my messy life? Lydia actually has a very youthful soul, much as she doesn't let it show. To the point where I sometimes feel that our relationship resembles that of sisters more than the one of employer and employee. She's the only person on this earth (after Mother) whom I allow to scold me as much as her heart desires. In return, she doesn't reveal any of the things she's witnessed during those ten years she's been working for me. But she hasn't asked to resign yet, so I must be doing something right.

Anyway, the event I forgot about was the one for Make-A-Wish. The idea is to host a tea party at the Reception Hall in the Royal Palace for the terminally ill children, who want to get a glimpse of what it is like to be a real-life Princess.

I have been in talks with the foundation about it for almost a year, so I guess it is about time it took place. Besides, everyone out there thinks that I divide my time between the Royal Palace, the Palace of Tatoi, and my own mansion in Cyprus. But secrets aside, I have put way too much time and energy into that foundation to be considered an honorary patron anymore. I just want my charity work to be remembered, and not be 'yet another royal' who gives speeches, cuts ribbons, hands cheques, and looks pretty at fund-raising events. There's plenty of children out there who need the help of grown-ups like us to make their lives as wonderful as possible. I plan on founding my own charity at some point, when Zeus Almighty stops fearing I will be accused of influencing political opinion... Blame the bad reputation that royal charity work has in Greece. My ancestors' greatest achievement, frankly... They made one great chaos of the one activity you can't mess up with. They used it for their own political gain, and Zeus Almighty changed that, or at least pretends to. He actually uses it to give his approval ratings a boost, a trick Hera has taught him. So, if you ever see me becoming Prime Minister, you'll know who to blame.

Nevertheless, I am trying to help as much as I can. But having Their Majesties' support wouldn't hurt. Much.

"They believe it is too early to host it on the twenty-fifth of January," Lydia said. "Her Majesty suggested that it is postponed until February instead. To give the public some time to... recover from the celebrations for her birthday. And for the staff to organize it."

"But, we have already arranged everything, even the magician and the cakes!" I protest. "All that is left is to send out the invites."

With all due respect, Hera has overestimated the gala. It won't mesmerize the Greeks to the point that they won't stop talking about it. Rather, they will criticize her for overindulging in her appanage and status. Her approval ratings are low enough already. The Big Boss' too, which is why I doubt they'd wish to remain in power for another twenty years, as they had always planned. Not when the entire nation keeps pressuring me to ascend the throne because they've grown sick and tired of Thunder and Peacock (Zeus and Hera's actual security code names and bless whoever came up with them).

After all, last time I checked, I was working hard enough for all three of us...

"Nevertheless, Miss, these are orders from the Palace."

I expected that kind of reaction, to be honest. I am more worried about the little children that'll be disappointed when they are told about the postponement. I have received lots of thank-you letters from their parents, asking me to host it the soonest possible. Every thing has been planned in great detail, too. I have even decided which gown and tiara I'll wear at the occasion. I'm going to dress the part completely, my sash and honours included. I wouldn't want it to be yet another Disney-themed princess party, although the little girls will be free to dress up as one. Perhaps, once I am Queen, I can manage to host that tea party every year. No matter what the Parliament, a natural phenomenon and a colourful bird say.

"Fine!" I let out, handing Lydia the dark blue leather file including my schedule. "Call the foundation and tell them that we are hosting it on the second of February. Inform the Palace, too, and let them know that I won't negotiate it any further. And if His Majesty protests, tell him the word 'restaurant'. He'll understand."

Lydia looks surprised: "You're asking me to defy the King?"

"Oh, don't worry, he can't fire you. He knows who you're working for and he'll blame it on me. As usual."

She gets up to leave, but before that, she turns to me again: "Oh, one more thing. The foundation have suggested that you bring Princess Hebe with you, if you can. Would make the other children feel more comfortable, and it would be great for publicity."

"If her mother stops throwing daggers at me, I will."

Smiling, Lydia exits the room and there I am again, on my own, in the study, with this huge platter of French cheeses and my half-drunk martini nearby. Told you Lydia is disciplining me every chance she gets. Or tries to.

By the way, Hebe and I get along just fine. As much as Hera lets us, that is. If you look at the official family portraits, she's the little girl sitting on my lap. Used to, rather, until a couple of years ago. I actually like her zest for life and her funny antics. Journalists have noticed, too, and they beg to get a picture of us two randomly dancing or just talking. Hera hasn't reached that level of maternal affection yet. Still, it's funny, she and Zeus Almighty messed up with every single one of us, yet are doing a great job with their youngest child. Good to see that, after three children and twenty years of marriage, they finally learned the basics of decent parenthood. But, better late than never, right?

And a little something about the security code names: they change them every five to ten years for additional security and so far, the names I have had were 'Sunshine', 'Society', and 'Sheba', which only survived for three months because some kept confusing it with 'Samba'. I'm disappointed they didn't keep the second version, actually, it seemed to be the one hitting the nail on the head about me the most. Anyway, my current code name is 'Sea foam'. Which makes sense, frankly, considering how I was born (a story for another time), and that the Greeks often use that word to describe beautiful women. Pretty sure that whoever came up with it wanted to hit on me without getting into trouble, then. Not that I mind it. To tell you the truth, it is my favourite one on the list. But I don't know why they stick with words starting with S. Perhaps once I am Queen, they plan on calling me 'Serpent' or something.

Which is how you know men have a sense of humour.

---

Private quarters, Royal Palace, Athens

Ares had already regretted his decision to return to the Palace. It didn't matter how long he had been gone for. He had grown unused to having a valet tend to his every need, from waking him up to laying out his clothes for him and preparing what he needed to shave. All of that waste of time bore the same sign: Her Majesty's orders.

Of course. Hera was his mother, the only real one he had, and she had given him a far better life than he'd even dare dream of otherwise. But she had crossed the line. Only the previous night, during their first dinner together 'as a family', she had kept on reminding him about how dangerous Alexandroupoli was and 'wouldn't you prefer to be based closer to Athens?' To everyone's surprise, Zeus had been his staunchest supporter in the dispute. He had forced Hera to shut up by telling her that Ares was 'doing his job protecting his country' and that they 'should all be proud of him'.

She would lecture Ares again today. On the breakfast table. Such a lovely picture they would all make. Zeus reading his newspaper, Hebe playing with her food, Eris and Eileithyia gossiping, Hera speaking to everyone and no one, and him just being bored as hell.

It was all so very different from the dining facility at the Base. There, he'd dine in a big room stinking of expired food and stale air. Men in green would sit on plastic chairs by steel tables, making jokes that would shock even his father, talking about their girlfriends back home, and reminiscing about breakfast 'back home'. Ares hardly understood the fuss about the latter. No matter where he was, he was always eating the same things in the morning: a piece of bread with butter and honey, jam or ham and cheese if they had plenty of it to waste, cereal with milk, hard boiled eggs, tea, coffee, or juice.

In either case, the food was prepared for the masses. For the soldiers in the Base and for the servants and the Royal Family in the Palace. At some point, Zeus had refused to pay extra so that the Royal Family and the household staffers would eat different things. So, he had instructed that everyone had the same things for breakfast. Except that the food in the Palace was much fresher and cooked by a chef that actually knew how to boil an egg. Wasn't it for his own family making his meals insufferable, he might have enjoyed breakfast that morning.

But how could anyone do so with a stupid tie around their necks, just because the Queen had instructed that all family members be fully dressed at all times? After the third attempt to tie it, Ares had given up and had to give in to his valet's help. Having a man as old as the King dressing him, as if he were still a baby...

Next time, I am skipping the tie and that's it, he thought while he was making his way from the private quarters to the Dining Hall. Good for him, both were on the second floor.

Everyone in there was dressed like they were living in the office. Which, practically, they were. Unsurprisingly, Zeus was reading his newspaper, Hera was sitting right across her husband, Eris and Eileithyia were giggling and occasionally, one of them was paying attention to Hebe, dressed in her school uniform. As befitting to a daughter of the reigning couple, she attended private school. But seeing that she would never become a senior member of the Royal Family, she had to take the school bus, instead of having a chauffeur take her there. Living in the Royal Palace was already prestigious enough for an eight-year-old.

Once Hera noticed Ares, she closed the dark blue folder in front of her. Knowing the drill, Ares rushed to the buffet and began to serve himself. Even that didn't differ from life at the Base! Not soon after, Eris was heard:

"You know, Ares, you still haven't told me all about life in the Army."

"Eris, please!" Hera intervened. "This is neither the time, nor the place."

The younger woman got the message. 'Ares has just woken up', her mother meant, 'you shouldn't bother him with your endless blabbering'. Now that the 'darling son' was back home, Eris would have to retreat to being 'yet another daughter'. Like little Hebe. Except that the little girl could find some situations amusing.

Her brother's head for instance.

She was sitting between her two older sisters and right across Ares, so she could take a very good look at his very short hair. It was the way all soldiers cut it. For practicality.

She brought her hands to her mouth and giggled, drawing Ares' attention:

"What is it?" he asked.

"One of the boys in school said you look like Superman but your hair is much shorter!"

True to form, Hera gave her a scolding look. But then she noticed the truth of Hebe's words. And something else.

"Darling, you haven't shaved?"

"I'm not at the Base any more," Ares replied. "I don't see why I should."

Hebe intervened: "Don't kiss me goodbye, then! Your cheeks are scratching my face."

Ares could not resist teasing her: "May I still hug you though, M'lady? Surely you wouldn't want to resist such an honorable and fair knight like your brother such a great honour?"

Hebe giggled again and stopped only when Eileithyia reminded her she needed to hurry, the school bus would be arriving any minute now. It always parked in front of one of the gates to the Gardens. The Queen didn't like the mere thought of having a school bus parked right outside the front gates of the Palace.

Ares took a careful look at his sisters. It's funny how different they looked, even though all three had inherited Hera's beauty. Eileithyia looked the plainest of them all, with her big nose and lips. She hated them, but could not bring herself to "correct" them. Hebe was still too young for him to imagine what she'd look like in twenty years. Perhaps she'd end up resembling Eris more, they already looked scarily alike in pictures.

But the nice family moment was interrupted when Zeus spoke:

"Everyone, make sure you are back here by twelve thirty. Aphrodite is joining us for lunch at one o'clock."

Damn it!

Ares had hoped that the mere mention of her name wouldn't send bolts down his spine. Not with the force that it had anyway. He had not been told about her coming over. Perhaps it was another last-minute decision. They kept having those a lot lately, from what his sisters had told him on the phone or written in their letters. He tried to come up with possible plans to talk to Aphrodite in private and, if he was lucky enough, tell her all about the thoughts of hers that had plagued him for so long. Not a love confession. He had always mocked those. Just letting her know how he had been coping. He'd ask about her too, of course, and her time in New York.

No, that wouldn't do. Why on earth would he go for the stars when he could have the whole sky? He'd lure her into following him to an empty corridor or room - one of the many in that place - and brush his lips against hers, play with her as she had done three months ago. He only wanted to taste their bittersweet taste again.

Like cinnamon...

Just for a couple of seconds. Then they could go back to playing "siblings".

Ares clenched his fist. He shouldn't stay there. Not with his parents talking and his sisters teasing each other. They might be able to read his thoughts. Maybe even stop him from making his dream, his vision, come true before he had even dared realized it.

Yet he couldn't leave. Zeus had to be the first to stand up. As the protocol dictated.

Lucky for Ares, the King did so soon after.

"We have another busy day ahead of us," Zeus said. "Better not waste it on tittle-tattle."

That was the order the nearby footmen needed to start cleaning up the table. In a few hours, they would start setting it again for lunch. Each single member of the Royal Family went their way. Zeus in his office, Hera to the Reception Hall to oversee the preparations again, Eris and Eileithyia on engagements, and Hebe to find her Nanny. She would escort her to the school bus. As for Ares, he headed straight to the private quarters. There was a lumberjack buried somewhere in his room, which he always used to think or to calm down. Or both, which was case today.

Given that he had arrived only the day before, there were no engagements for him to do for the next two days. Surprising, since the holidays were approaching. Those were the Royal Family's busiest time of the year. Everyone was busy attending engagement after engagement and gala after gala.

Today would not be any different.

Perfect!

He'd lock the door too, just in case. He could never too safe or too alone in there.

---

Midday

I'm nervous. That's all.

I mean, I don't really have any reason to be, do I? I am just going to the Palace, in the same outfit I have worn at all of my morning engagements, to have lunch with Zeus Almighty and Peacock, drink, forget the basic rules of profanity (or at least pretend to), and then go back to the hotel.

It is not as if they have a special guest or something.

Oh dear, I can't believe this. Look at me, acting like I'm fourteen years old again... I still remember my crush from back then and how awfully eager I had been to dance with him. He did look like the perfect partner. Had two left feet instead. A great lesson in trusting men, frankly.

Focus! Focus, focus focus!

Ares won't be able to do anything with all those people watching, will he? Actually, he won't be able to come any near me at all. Hera doesn't leave him out of her sight. She treats her precious little boy as if he's the world's most precious treasure.

Matter of fact, he did feel like that. In my arms...

Stop that!

I'll just keep my fingers crossed I won't snap or accuse anyone for suspecting me for things I was too drunk to even know I was doing.

Not that tipsy, really. But still.

Something in me tells me that Thunder will announce to the whole family that I am now an engaged woman. He has been acting like it since I told him that I would meet with Hephaestus on the eighteenth of January. To give me plenty of time to prepare. But this morning I realized that I actually need even more time just to figure out how I can be my worst self again. And to find the perfect 'Evil Queen' outfit, since the Chanel black dress and the pearls didn't do the trick...

I know how my half-brother will react. I have to keep on calling him that, in case I manage to control myself in his presence. He will get angry and try to find out as much as possible. But, since he, too, is scared of Zeus, it will be rather hard for him to cause a scene. I hope.

"We are here, Miss," Euphrosyne said. She's one of the three ladies of mine. It was her turn to hold the bouquets during my engagements today. Talking of, I have no idea where these flowers are right now...

I hold her hand. I don't know why. I need the support, I guess. All I can get.

"It will be alright, Miss," she says, misunderstanding the notion. She thinks I'm panicked about seeing my entire family again. Yes, I actually had a panic attack about it. Once. Long before I could even imagine myself tangled in this mess.

"I know," I reply.

But, as someone else would say, only I know how this is so not true.

---

Dining Hall, Royal Palace, Athens

Family lunchtimes were never a joyful occasion. For anyone. That could as well be an unwritten rule and no one knew who to blame for its establishment. Zeus never spoke much during meals, unless it was an official occasion. Hera, on the other hand, had always enjoyed a good conversation. But even she followed Zeus' lead sometimes. When that was the case, she demanded that everyone else did the same. Today was one of those times. The footmen assigned to serve them had no other choice but to stand in the corner and watch the Royal Family eat, breathe heavily, and embrace the silence.

Having no better entertainment, everyone in the room focused on the sound of cutlery scraping the expensive china dishes. If they paid a little more attention, they would even hear the people around the table chewing and gulping.

Hera could sense that something was wrong. Ares was sitting next to her. Right opposite him, next to Zeus, sat Aphrodite. The two avoided looking at each other. Ares would hide both hands under the table ever so often, sometimes even pushing his fork against his arm. As for Aphrodite, she tried to fool everyone that she was eating. To no avail. She kept pushing her food around her plate, a trick everyone was all too familiar with. They used it to simulate consumption and deceive their hosts or guests during state banquets, to avoid any misunderstandings and, consequently, diplomatic issues from arising.

Unwilling to break the rules, yet desperate to put and end to this tension, Hera cleared her throat and touched the back of her neck. A good old trick she had used several times at official events, either to wake Zeus up or to ask him to change the topic of the conversation.

Luckily for her, Zeus got the message quickly. As did everyone else, who kept looking at him, waiting for his next move. He needed a few seconds to think of what he would say. He didn't really have any news to share, other than how happy he was to have all of his (legitimate) children there with him. Except for Athena, but she was nowhere to be found these days. He couldn't say that, of course. It was too predictable.

Oh, that's it, he thought. They would find out sooner or later, anyway.

"Well, children!" he said, standing up and raising his glass, filled with red wine.

To his surprise, they were all pushing back their chairs. Hera's eyes fell on Aphrodite. Her step-daughter looked relieved that the meal was over. Happy even.

"No, no, sit down," he added. "I haven't finished my meal yet. I just wanted to tell you that I have some rather thrilling news to share."

Hera knew what he'd announce and she contemplated stopping him before it was too late. Such an announcement could not be made under those circumstances. Besides, she had not given her own clear consent to that marriage yet.

But then again, her husband always seemed to confuse 'I'll think about it' with 'Yes'. She had fallen into that trap as well, years ago.

"As you know, I am very happy to have you all back with me," Zeus said. "Even for just a few days."

Oh, for heaven's sake..., Ares thought. It was already hard enough for him to be sitting right across Aphrodite, to watch her every move, yet endure her deliberately not looking at him. She was staring at her plate instead, not even trying to pay attention to her surroundings. Her glass remained untouched, which was very unlike her as well. Still, she looked prettier than he remembered. Fresher. Her hair was longer, she had put on some weight, and her blue dress brought out her eyes. Whatever little he could see of them at least.

Perhaps his parents had noticed how he had been trying to sneak his fork underneath the table and push it against his lap or his elbow from time to time. But he didn't really care about what they thought. Especially his own mother.

Yet, Aphrodite did look at him. When he was busier fighting with his own desires. She'd dig her perfectly manicured nails into her skin, blaming herself for acting like an amateur and feeling like an idiot. She could listen to her heart beating wildly, too. and she kept hoping that Zeus wouldn't notice.

Eris and Eileithyia were actually the only people who were paying attention to Zeus' speech. He kept talking about the importance of family and duty, even counting the reasons those two were so closely tied together in their case. It was a rather boring speech, which they had heard over and over again. Yet, Hera kept looking at her husband, so they had better follow their mother's lead as well.

Until Zeus finally made the revelation: "Therefore, I am very proud to announce that Aphrodite, here, has decided to do her own greatest duty towards both her country and her family. She's getting married."

The sound of cutlery as it abruptly hit the china dishes. Mouths wide open, looks of disbelief, and Aphrodite suddenly being the centre of attention. Unpleasant and unwelcome as that was. But Zeus had not finished yet. Not before he had said everything he had to say first:

"As you may have been told, Ares won't be escorting Aphrodite to the gala for your mother's birthday this year. The reason for that is that Aphrodite will attend the gala... escorted by her betrothed!"

Aphrodite felt like she would explode. Ares too. They felt they eyes of their sisters and the footmen on them, either mocking them or pitying them. They couldn't believe that Aphrodite - the walking scandal of a Princess - would get married. That she would find a husband eventually. The footmen thought about all that gossip in the kitchens. No way would they keep such big news a secret. For the next few days, weeks, even months, that'd be their most discussed topic. Until the night of the gala, they'd all speculate on what the Crown Princess's fiancé looked like. They had always thought that she'd end up with someone tall, who would resemble a well-built Hollywood actor or even a supermodel. Definitely someone awfully handsome. Like Prince Ares, perhaps even less. Or more. The man that had made the Crown Princess settle down after all those "adventures" of hers must have definitely swept her off her feet. After all, they had all heard her say how, if she would ever get married, it'd be after she had found 'the one'. That man must be someone with her half-brother's body type. She always went for guys like him. For some odd reason.

The two Princesses thought so as well. Over the years, they had followed Aphrodite's personal life - either via the media or first-hand - and they had reached the conclusion long ago that she was just like their father. Using men to her own pleasure, not caring about their feelings or being even remotely interested in having a serious relationship. The closest she had ever come to that had been the year before. But the relationship had ended abruptly and no one found out why. If they dared ask, they'd be met either with Aphrodite's feisty glare or Zeus' temper. His eldest daughter's personal life was not one of his favourite topics...

Ares kept looking at Aphrodite, how she had hid both arms under the table and was taking deep breaths, eyes and lips closed. She didn't want the people in the room to know that she was mad at her father for making the announcement in such a way. He had made her believe that he'd wait until after the gala. To give her some time to get to know Hephaestus, at least.

He felt betrayed. All those weeks, all those memories, and there she was, marrying someone else! That's why she wouldn't look at him. Why she had not reached out for him in any way since that night. She hadn't even written to him, not even once... Now he knew why. She had become his... but already belonged to someone else. Suddenly, the room didn't feel big enough to fit both of them.

If she doesn't, I'll leave first, Ares thought. No need.

Getting up from her chair so forcefully that it dropped to the floor, Aphrodite stormed out of the Dining Hall. Acting on reflex, Ares, too, stood up and made his way to the door. Zeus stopped him:

"Leave her!" he said, sitting back on his chair.

Ares obeyed. He didn't know why. He was used to following stupid orders, that's what.

Zeus took a good look at the people left around the table. They had all stopped eating, trying to take it all in.

"We are not done yet," he instructed. They all got the message. Soon enough, everything went back to normal. Almost. Something was missing. A little detail that was there during breakfast, but had disappeared the minute Aphrodite stepped foot in the Palace.

Oh, that's it. The liveliness. That of Ares, first and foremost.

Zeus didn't like how awfully protective his son was of Aphrodite. He had seen how they treated each other. They were scarily attached to each other, more than siblings were supposed to be. It had taken Zeus years, but he had finally found a way to cut that cord between them. This time next year, Aphrodite would have a new protector. Her husband.

"She has woken up at last. It hurts sometimes," Zeus added, even though no one was listening.

To clear the air, Hera changed the subject: "May we have the dessert now, please?"

Much as her husband's haste angered her, it did not bother her as much as the awful feeling she had, that something was about to go horribly, horribly wrong.

If only she knew what.

---

Air, I need some air. Even if that means I have to go to the Gardens to get it. I usually avoid that place. Be it the statues, the trees, or the feeling that I am getting exposed into the world without the protection that the Palace walls have to offer.

Funny, you may think, how I have spent my entire life being watched - either by adoring crowds or by the spies in my very own home - yet I fear being in the only place where I can be perfectly invisible. Even the inhabitants of the surrounding blocks of flats can't see me through those tall thick walls.

I knew that the air in the Palace would be suffocating. Today of all days. I just didn't expect it to turn out worse than I had expected.

Just summoning up the courage to see Ares again was hard enough. I needed to control my body from betraying what my mind and my heart need to keep a secret. Still do, in fact. I never get upset when facing old lovers, but he was family too. He has to be treated as such. But I've been through so much for him to just go back to the way things used to be between us.

And all of that under Hera's piercing stare and Zeus' big mouth, making this whole situation much more of a farce than it was supposed to be.

I should have brought my wine with me. It'd calm me down. Help me put my thoughts in order. Whom am I kidding? I have never been good at thinking. I always act on instinct, on the spur of the moment. A terrible decision, really.

I can hear footsteps behind me. They're approaching me. I know who it is, even with my back facing him. Still, I know better than to avoid his eyes again.

"Some helper told me you'd be here," Ares says. He has come to ask for explanations. It's obvious from the way he holds his body. But there are none to give. Even I don't know how I got myself in this situation in the first place.

"Who is he?" he adds.

Vain as it might turn out to be, I will try to keep him out of this. I can see the jealousy in his eyes. He won't leave. Not before getting an answer out of me first.

"Look, Ares..." I try to say his name like I am still his sister. But I don't feel like that person anymore. And he can tell when I'm trying to fool myself. "It's not that simple."

"Didn't sound like that to me," he replies. He sounds betrayed. Of course. "Zeus made it sound pretty definite. Who is he?"

I can't tell him the truth. That I'm being sold off. Ostensibly due to Father's poor business investments, when actually he wants to keep me away from whatever imaginative danger he thinks I'm in. Ares would cause an even greater scene than the one he came for. Get violent even. Sure, he was the protective brother, the only male sibling in a bunch of female ones... But he didn't come here to act like it.

He is clenching his fist and teeth, he's furrowing his eyebrows and his muscles are tense, hard as he is trying to hide it. This is me standing on the rocky path now, apparently, on my way to yet another crossroad. Attracting peril rather than hiding from it. Unable to run away. Not wishing to either.

"Does it matter?"

"Yes."

He utters the word with so much authority that it makes me feel uncomfortable. He comes closer, towering over me completely. My heart is beating uncontrollably and I try hard to keep my fear from showing:

"I-I can't say."

He will find out, soon enough. But I don't want to reveal Hephaestus' identity. I know how bad Ares' rage can get and I don't want a poor man who can barely walk to witness it first hand. Otherwise, I would walk into the ballroom the night of the gala hoping that Ares would not be asking all the guests if they had seen a man called Hephaestus. Considering how rare his name is, it would be child's play for Ares to track him down.

But he persisted:

"Do I know him?"

I shake my head: "No."

"How long has this been going on for?"

"What?"

"Did you know him back in London?"

"I can't believe this."

I'm not stupid, I know that he wanted to cause a scene and now his wish has been fulfilled. I was just hoping that he'd be more aware of his surroundings. He has grown up in this place, too. He knows that walls have ears. Trees, too, most of the time. Yet here he is, acting like we are a normal couple, or have every right to act like one. In public of all places!

I turn to leave. I have nothing better to do. Even here, in the least suffocating of places, I feel like I can't breathe.

But he's faster. He grabs my arm and forces me to face him again.

"And that night?"

"It was just that. A night," I say, freeing myself from his grasp. "And you'd better forget about it."

"Not until you tell me all about him."

The look in his eyes scares me. I need to get out of here. As soon as possible. But not yet. I need to change his mind about us first. Once and for all.

"You don't have to know anything! I am getting married to a man you have never met. It's what's best for us. For the country."

He crosses his arms. He smirks. That mocking grin of his that I hate so much.

"Ah! So now you are playing the victim," he says. "How convenient for you."

"How dare you?"

"At least I do."

Oh, how I want to slap him right now! Pin him to the ground and punch him in the face! But he would beat me if he even saw me trying. Then we would both get ourselves in an even bigger trouble than the one we were in during lunch. Why can't Ares see that?

"I'm leaving."

It's the best I can do. Before this conflict turns into a clash. And before I lose all self-control and let my feelings show. Much as I want to hurt him, I also want to kiss him. To rid him of all the anger and the frustration that has built in him. To reassure him that the other man poses no threat to him. That he doesn't amount to anything in the first place. Hard as it is for me to fight the urge.

His sarcasm does the trick:

"How kind of you!"

This is it. He has crossed the line. But if it's the truth he wants, it's what he'll get. Ugly as it may seem:

"Well, I'm sorry I let you down! But I can't just wait for you with open arms and legs! If you're smart enough, you'll know why!"

"You could at least be honest with me!"

This is getting nowhere. Not with him wanting to have the upper hand. Of course. He's not that much different from his mother, after all. Never has been.

"I have a better suggestion for you!" I snap, tired of this... stupid game. "Stop being so obsessed with me! It's wrong, it's unhealthy! While you're here at least!"

I try to walk away, but he startles me. Grabbing me by the shoulders, he brings my body so close to his that I can feel his breath on my face. I look closely into his eyes, how they grow from icy cold to red with fury. He wants to kiss me, I know it. So do I. But he's hurting me. A lot. I can feel a lump in my throat and I'm trying very hard to keep my chin from trembling. Yet the harder I resist, the more I want to cry.

What is worse, he can see it. The distance between us is too short for such reactions to go unnoticed. Still, his tight grip of my shoulders doesn't get any looser.

Looks like he'll get what he wanted all along. For me to beg him.

"Please, let go of me."

Maybe I mean it both literally and metaphorically. I don't know. But I can see now, how bad his obsession with me is. It can only go downhill from there. Only this time, he is taking me with him. There's no way out of it.

Nevertheless, he does as he was told. Then he apologizes, straightening his jacket. Perhaps he has finally realized the danger we are both about to get into if people find out. This isn't London. It's a snake pit. One sudden move and we'll be eaten alive. Maybe he's too blinded by it all that he confuses drunken one-night-stands with a normal relationship. But I know better than that.

He opens his mouth to speak. Yet all has been said and done between us. There's no place for more mistakes. Not anymore.

My voice trembles as I speak:

"Just... stay away from me. Please."

I walk past him, trying not to brush against his jacket. I still want to cry, and badly so, but it's the only way I can get rid of all that frustration. Maybe I should have stayed home. But then again, it might have made matters worse.

Before I disappear from his sight, I turn to get one last glimpse of him. He has turned to the side. He can't see me from this angle. He's punching the air as a way to rid himself of all his resentment towards me. At least he has it easy. Crying is not a solution for him, it never was. Only a sign of weakness. Still, I would like to see him weep. Just once, to make sure that he does have a heart after all. That he is more than the selfish, immature man that simply goes about causing trouble.

Yet, despite all the anger, the pain, and the tears, I can still feel someone's eyes on me. But perhaps it is yet another of my mind's tricks. I knew that this family would drive me mad one day.

It had better be sooner rather than later, then. For all our sakes.

---

Aphrodite was right. Their little dramatic scene did have an audience.

Standing by the window of the Dining Hall, listening to Eris and Eileithyia laughing behind her, Hera was contemplating the meaning of everything she had just witnessed. Her thoughts were as contradictory as the behaviour of her son and her step-daughter. Common sense told her that siblings did not act like that, not when they hadn't seen each other for almost a year.

Sure, they had always been close, but the distance between them (or the lack thereof) and their body language were not becoming of a brother and a sister who had always enjoyed a rather special connection.

Those two were disputing like... like a couple! A pair! Like - oh dear - like lovers! No, that's impossible, she kept repeating to herself. They have grown up in the same family. That can't be.

Yet their body language was a little too familiar to her. Ares was in a jealous rage and Aphrodite was trying her best to avoid him. And she - she acted like she knew him a little too well. She had overpowered him, controlled him even! It brought back lively memories of the times Hera would dispute with her own husband, back to when they were still young enough to take even the slightest pleasure in their fights. She just wished that her maternal instinct would be proven wrong. That she had misunderstood Ares and Aphrodite and that they were once again acting immature for their age.

Eris' voice interrupted her trail of thoughts:

"Mother, we have to go!"

Turning on her heel, Hera took one last look outside the window. Aphrodite had disappeared from sight. She had come back inside the Palace, apparently. Ares just kept punching in the air, occasionally rubbing his hands on his head. As he always did when he was upset...

At that moment, Hera knew she would be staying up all night, trying to figure out the meaning of all that. Years of being married to her husband taught her to know better than to doubt the tension between the two. Yet, it was terribly, terribly wrong.

They were siblings, for heaven's sake!

---

16 December 2006

Midnight

Royal Suite, Hotel GB

It's not Ares' fault that I acted the way I did. He doesn't know the things that have happened in the past three months. He had better not find them out either.

Blame everything on me. I can hardly recognize myself anymore. As if some deeply buried alter ego of mine took over my body and now she acts on my behalf, destroying everything that my normal self - the one I can recognize - holds most dear. Perhaps it's better this way, I don't know. Her introversion and her wish to keep me away from harm probably does all the work. Maybe I need her to keep me away from danger. But at a prize I may not be willing to pay.

I don't want to lose myself. No matter how hard Zeus and Hera try to convince me otherwise. It's true, I am not the same person I used to be when I left for the tour. That Aphrodite was less afraid to try, she just lived for the moment, she didn't care about the consequences of her actions. Whereas the other one, the new me, is treading carefully on dangerous paths, trying very hard not to step on the wrong stone for fear she might fall.

That's what I have become. Afraid. Scared. And those people don't live. It's the one motto I have been following since I can remember myself. Life is short. Live for the moment. Just don't care about making mistakes, it's how you grow.

That could be it. All those months of me meeting with politicians and experiencing world diplomacy first hand have taught me the lesson Hera might have wanted me to learn. To grow up and mature into my role. This could also be what Zeus' punishment was for in the first place. And now, I just feel more confused than ever before.

What if I have interpreted the elderly gypsy's prophecy wrong again? What if it was not about my parents or Ares and Hephaestus? What if it was... about me? Could the rocky path symbolize the woman I used to be while the easy road signified the woman I was meant to become? Maybe it was neither the middle of a line or the top of a love triangle I was standing on but the verge between myself and someone else. Some stranger I didn't know who offered me a better life. An easier one, living by the rules.

But I have never been one to follow other people's orders. Father's yes, because I don't have a choice. He has been the only compromise I have ever been willing to make. Yet, I always make sure to strain from the line, to go my own way. Or used to, anyway.

That other me was brave enough to embrace the danger and the thrill. She knew perfectly well the sort of men she'd bed and she woke up every morning not paying much attention to the consequences of her actions. She was drawn to the thrill of the moment. And she went for it. Every single crazy thing she could think of. Constantly.

This new me, on the other hand... I don't know. She reminds me more of Athena. That dreaded half-sister of mine to whom I haven't spoken in the longest while. The one who thinks twice, who tries to come up with a plan beforehand, who takes full responsibility for her own actions.

Yet, when have I ever done so? I admit to the things I have done, yes, but it's only part of me being honest with myself. Have I been so brainwashed by the King and the Queen to the point where I can't think straight anymore? Have I let them shape me into the woman they had wanted me to be all along?

Zeus won't let me breathe. He insists on Hephaestus, as if he is the only man left on this earth to whom I'm not related or who would make a suitable husband. Every single day I am being reminded of him, like his name has to be in my head all the time, and every damn time I hear his name I see him standing before me, gloved hands and walking stick, quite at a loss of what to do. And then there's Hera. She knows. More than she admits she does. I don't know how much exactly, but I have to keep her from delving in too deep. She will destroy me if she discovers all the secrets I keep to myself.

Ugh!

There I am doing it again, worrying and fearing about other people's reactions... When I should put my own heart in order first.

Am I afraid of Ares? I need a clear, honest answer. Yes or no.

Which, apparently, I seem unable to give.

I knew he'd act like a spoiled teenager. That he'd cause a scene. But I fear he'll expect me to be his - body and soul - for all eternity. Previous relationships might have followed his rules. But it is impossible for me. I have nothing to gain from this relationship but the risk of losing everything I hold most dear. The title and the lifestyle, yes, but also my self-esteem. My self-confidence. My longest battles and greatest victories.

I have not regretted sleeping with him. Neither have there been any other lovers since him. There was hardly any time for me to set my eyes on a man and to flirt with him, maybe even bedding him if we so wished. I had to be on the road constantly and my exhaustion was greater than my thirst for adventure. And when I came back home, I did try to get him out of my system. That night I had lost my dress, it was the first night I returned to the hunt. Just looking for company for the night. Nothing more.

Somehow, I became barren of that right as well, and I have no idea why. Or who to blame.

We had agreed, Ares and I, that that fateful night would be a game of hide and seek. Except that now I realize that it has gone on for far longer than it was supposed to.

It's not like me to still be thinking of former lovers, or to sometimes dream about them, trying to relive the satisfaction they had given me. Yet, I did so with him. In a room where I can never be truly alone, and in a town he was miles away from, it was hard. I admit that, occasionally, I have also come to think that trying with someone else would be worthless. That it would be such a disappointing experience that I'd fall back into Ares' arms in an instant, looking for the roughness and the sweetness he could offer me. Generously. Not caring about the pain or the tiredness the next day. Because whatever bruise we'd give to each other would be yet another claim that we belonged to each other. Another proof that we knew each other far better than we dared admit.

Even today, I had to resist the urge to do something inappropriate. Not that I would. Being in the same room as the King and the Queen, watching the Royal Palace in all its glory when I was out in the Gardens, I felt too afraid to even dare think about it. Yet he was right there, next to me, and the feeling in my stomach told me that he was struggling as hard as me to resist the urge of cornering me in a corridor and giving in to his greatest, his wildest wishes.

He once told me that during times of war, in the past at least, the soldiers that would claim an uncharted territory would do anything in their power to keep it. It would take only a bigger, better equipped and more strategically skilled phalanx to beat them.

But Ares has never been one to follow strategy. Neither do I, thinking about it. We do know how not to leave any traces behind - as much as possible at least - and how to sneak around unnoticed. That's the thrill of secret affairs. War zones too, from the stories I've heard. Both can fill you with adrenaline and drive you mad.

He offered me just that. We had the perfect circumstances to conduct a secret affair. After all, love and war have never known any rules. Like two naughty children who refuse to be disciplined. Like us.

I am ready to be careful enough. I just worry that he will fall victim to his self-confidence and destroy everything. Arrogance has never been a good adviser and he has lots of it. It's what drew me to him in the first place.

But this is not London and we are not two strangers engaged in a dance. We don't have any masks or strong alcohol to keep us from thinking straight. We are in Athens, where people watch our every move, where privacy sounds like the right everyone else is entitled to but us. We live with the constant stress that it will be violated. We need to protect everything we have. The Monarchy, that's what. If we go down, it'll be of our very own doing. No need to blame it on other people. Except for our reflexion in the mirror.

I feel a tingle down my spine. That all too familiar sense of thrill. The excitement of danger approaching. I embrace it. If it is meant to lead me to the fiery road - be it either Ares or my old self - I will not protest. I will greet both of them with a wide smile and a warm embrace.

I've had enough of being someone else. A woman other people shaped. It is still early enough for me to rescue what I still can from the Aphrodite I recognize, the one that has always been my best friend and closest partner in crime. Of any kind.

I will make amends with Ares. But I won't break off my engagement to Hephaestus. I can't. Zeus will suspect. I don't want to imagine what will likely follow. I won't ever warm up to my intended or see him as a wife is supposed to view her husband.

But he will be the cover I'll need to hide my affair with Ares from the blazing sun. This kind of love triangle never led anywhere. I am not foolish, I know that our case will probably end bad as well.

Still, I am willing to try.

Just for the heck of it.

---

1:30 A.M.

Elliniko, South Athens

Ares filled his glass again. He didn't care that he was drinking too much on an empty stomach. To tell the truth, he had no idea how many hours ago he had left the Palace. He didn't want to find out either.

All he wanted was alcohol, music, and to go unnoticed. He knew just the right spot.

It wasn't like him to find himself in such places. They smelled weird and were tiny, loud, and dark. Alas, the perfect refuge. A friend of his had told him about that place. It was as far away from the city centre as he could get, in the area where the old International Airport used to be. Somehow, the few night clubs that have been there since the 1990s had brought life back to that part of the South Athens. Still, they offered him with plenty of privacy to just drink himself to forgetfulness.

He kept seeing her face. The look in her eyes when he had brought his face as close to hers as he could. Those had been tears in her eyes but then she had told him to leave her alone. Huh! Empty, meaningless words coming out of her mouth. Like all the other promises she had made. She was no different than all the other women he had met, as it turned out.

The realization hurt him more then he had expected or had ever experienced before. He had dated women who had wanted him for his looks, some who had been attracted to his wealth and status, and others who had just wanted to get their own time in the spotlight. All of them had been at his mercy. He had had what they had been after and he could take it away from them whenever his heart desired. Even if they had dared to defy him. Which no one had been stupid enough to do.

Except for her. She was the best lover he had ever had. The fact that their amorous romp defied all the laws he could think of had made it all the more exhilarating. She had left him at her mercy, ending the best night of his life abruptly the next morning, with a phrase that sounded more like a wish than a promise or an order. He was left behind, trying to take it all in and longing for more.

He looked around him. Most of the nearby tables were empty. That was odd. It was a Friday night. Early Saturday morning now actually. Normally, the place should be so full of people that you could not even hear your own voice even if you shouted. But it was better this way. The few would respect his privacy. He was one of them, after all. Needing to spend a night out as much as everyone else in there. Nevertheless, most of the customers were young people around his age, who had come either in pairs or solo. The latter group were just like him. Lost souls who had fallen victims to the charms of the wrong person. Left with no other refuge but their own feelings of remorse, hurt ego, and an unbearable sense of self pity. They, too, had been foolish enough to believe in empty promises and to fall for a woman whose beauty was proven to be venomous. Silly moths drawn to the flame.

He certainly felt like one. Like he was the stupidest man on earth, to think that she'd fall back into his arms just like that. She was right. She could never welcome him with open arms and legs. She had promised those to another. Someone who was far his superior in every respect. That was the kind of man she would dare say 'yes' to. Whose wife she'd wish to be. Someone who overshadowed him. Who'd win every battle Ares would dare challenge him to.

He had certainly won the prize already.

Suddenly, the singer came back on stage after his short break. The other customers clapped and waited for him to start singing. He was not famous by a mile, but he'd sing the songs decently enough. At least he put emotion into them, as if he wished to mirror the pain of his audience.

The orchestra began to play the music. Ares was all too familiar with the genre. It was not exactly the kind of music he'd listen to, but it was just the perfect fit for nights filled with alcohol. The notes also seemed able to express the pain he felt in a way words were unable to.

Ares threw his glass to the floor and rushed on stage. He had the sudden urge to dance. To get all that anger out of his system. One of his few good friends had once told him that if zeibekiko was a feeling, it'd be the pain before revenge. It was the kind of dance real men danced to. The slower the steps and the more determined the moves were, the more masculine the dancer proved to be.

The singer started to sing the first verse:

When you left, my love

And left me on my own

You trapped me in memories

And imprisoned me there

My mind was filled

With thoughts of you

And I didn't keep even a bit of

My sanity for myself

Throughout that part, Ares kept turning around himself, his hands wide open, as if to touch the sky. His steps were following the rhythm and his drunken state helped him stumble just as much as the dance required. After all, drunk men always managed to dance it far better than sober ones. Apparently, they were dizzy enough to dance it the way it was supposed to be danced. Not as a show-off, but a real display of a broken heart. To win over the woman that was never meant to be theirs in the first place. To make her see what she'd lose.

Then came the chorus:

I turned the night into day

I couldn't sleep

You were in my mind

I kept thinking of you

And when I remembered

The man that had been kissing you

I was destroying everything I could find

I was going mad

The other customers recognized him, of course. Some got their mobile phones out of their pockets or purses, capturing the moment, while others kept throwing him carnations and napkins - whatever they had at their disposition. That was their way to encourage him to keep on dancing. To let him know they liked his dance. It was this odd kind of give and take that made those nightclubs so special. After all, they were all there for the same reason. To forget about their daily struggles and enjoy themselves.

The bravest people in the audience joined him on stage. But they wouldn't ask to claim his place by dancing nearby. Until the song would come to an end, he was the king of the scene. Three to four people formed a circle around him, clapping their hands to encourage him to keep it up. Two of them even brought dishes with them, those that were custom made to be broken on the dance floor. With every new step he took and with every turn he made, they'd break them at his feet. To thank them, he'd step on the broken plates and the carnations that had been thrown at him, to crash them down further.

At least those could be smashed without putting up a fight, Ares thought.

Suddenly, someone from the crowd raised his glass and congratulated 'the Prince'.

Soon enough, the others followed. They all raised their glasses and wished him well. The song was about to end by the time Ares' eyes landed on one of his clappers. The only woman in the group of people that encircled him. She was kneeling in front of him, clapping her hands according to the rhythm. The only one who had managed to get it right.

Then the song ended.

The spectators applauded him, but he wouldn't get off the stage just yet. Some of them approached him, wishing to congratulate him in person. Before he knew it, his need for privacy had vanished and he indulged in the attention her received. Before he knew it, they would leave him on his own again. An odd kind of solidarity, having all those people knowing your secret, yet being certain that they wouldn't share it with anyone else the minute they stepped out of that nightclub. They could guess what it was. From what they had managed to make out of his dance anyway.

Finally, the woman approached him. Like everyone else that had congratulated him, she, too, had no idea how to curtsy and so she shook hands with him instead. But she was more straightforward, patting him on the shoulder too, as she told him how much she had enjoyed watching him up there. All the while, Ares was taking a good, long look at her.

She was as tall as Aphrodite, yet looked nothing like her. Matter of fact, she was like the poorest and most cheaply dressed version of her. Perhaps she was another lost soul looking for someone to spend the night with. An unknown man she could use to enjoy herself. Ah, yes. She and Aphrodite were awfully similar in that respect. But Ares was determined to have at least one of them for his own pleasure.

Since the Crown Princess was way out of his reach now, the stranger would do.

---

2:15 A.M.

Royal Palace, Athens

Hera rushed to the window first thing. She didn't care that the sitting hall was dark and that she might stumble upon one of the many heavy furniture. There was some light coming in from the street, which she believed was more than enough for her to find her way and pay attention to what was going on at the main road outside. But Zeus had other ideas.

Sleep deprived and sick of his wife's ridiculous fears, he turned on the lights to keep him awake and rushed to the mini bar to pour himself a drink. Taking a look at Hera, sitting on a stool by the window 'just in case', he opened the bottle of vodka and filled a glass for her too. Last time she was acting weird like that, they were proud parents of rebellious teenagers. Heaven knows, Hebe would soon join that club as well. Zeus took a good look at his glass of whiskey. He poured himself some more. Just for what was to come in the future.

A sight similar to the one he was looking at now, that's what.

When he handed Hera her drink, she scoffed and gave it back to him:

"I am not that worried!"

"Right," Zeus said sarcastically.

Then the sound of a car honking. Hera immediately looked out of the window, even stretching her hand to draw the curtain. Good for her, Zeus cut her off:

"Woman, you kept pacing up and down in your room, then stormed into mine, turned on all the god-damned lights you could find and had me follow you here just to look at you staring out of the window. Drink this or I will!"

He was too tired to deal with his Hera's caprices and her trying to distort the truth. Which she kept up:

"I'm just concerned that Ares hasn't come back yet."

And just like that, Zeus flew back to 1993. Ares, then an awry fifteen-year-old, had only recently discovered the thrill of fast vehicles and he'd take his adoptive half-sister on trips around Athens on a motorbike he'd have stolen from one of their security officers. He hadn't cared that he hadn't had a driver's license or that it had been the future Queen he had been taking with him. As for his fourteen-year-old heiress, she had known better than to defy the King's wishes back then. She had made his life hell instead, by embarking on whatever crazy adventure Ares had had in mind. Or just getting in trouble on her own. Good old times!

"He is twenty-nine years old! At his age, I had children and a kingdom!"

If only Hera would listen...

"He is troubled by something," she said.

Sinking on a sofa, Zeus let out: "He wants to have a good time."

But apparently, it was too late for Hera to have a sense of humour. Looking at her watch, she shrieked: "At a quarter past two in the morning?"

What the hell does time have to do with anything?

"He's young!" Zeus said instead. "He's been in that Base for two months, he does need some time off. After all, I don't recall you worrying so much when he had travelled to Europe."

Hera was - once again - more focused on the empty road outside their window, but she had listened to Zeus' words:

"When was that?" she asked.

Zeus stifled down a yawn: "Four months ago."

He had to give it to her, though, despite her anxiety, she had a great memory. Which, sometimes, was more of a curse than a blessing:

"He'd been with some... some friends of his then," she said, quite unsure of the true identity - or gender - of the people Ares had gone on holiday with. As far as they had been concerned, it was just him and some old friends since high school, but his parents had always liked to think they knew him better than that.

"But still, you had to investigate him on their whereabouts."

Not a pleasant memory, to tell the truth. But he never dared tell Hera that:

"You do the same thing with Aphrodite," she hissed, "and don't give me that look!"

She even pointed her finger at him. Which meant that there was no way Zeus could defend himself. Otherwise, he'd explain to her that he worried about Aphrodite so much because the future of the Monarchy was in her hands. So, it was his duty as a father and a King to make sure that she never walked out of the straight white line he had drawn for her. Surely, Hera could remember the anguish it took to convince the Crown Princess to even step on it in the first place.

"Fine!" he let out instead. "But you are very attached to him and it's no good for him, he's not a boy anymore!"

Hera hid her face in her hands. The last thing she needed was a criticism on her motherhood. And by her very own husband, of all people.

"It's just a night out," Zeus furthered. "Not a big deal. Who knows, he might have also found a woman to spend the night with. He's a man. He needs his fair share of adventures."

Hera was no fool. She could guess where Ares had gone and she was certain that he would wake up in a bed that wasn't his. She just wished that his company for the night would not be the same woman for whom he had caused a scene earlier that day. That awful, tingly feeling in her stomach hadn't left her since she had witnessed the two arguing in the garden. But she also had another major concern:

"But what if something happens to him? He doesn't have security with him, remember? You stripped him of it years ago."

Zeus stood up and rushed to the mini bar again. He needed a refill, and fast.

"He's in the Army. He can fire a gun just fine."

Hera faced him, her eyes wide with worry:

"You're saying he's carrying a pistol with him?"

At that moment, Zeus realized that that detail had escaped him. It wouldn't surprise him if he did. But he couldn't tell Hera that.

"I don't know," he said to comfort her. "But if he calls us to get him out of trouble because we can certify his identity, we will find out."

Hera burst out laughing. Zeus joined her. They both recalled the time Ares had called them after being arrested. It was the day he had passed his driver's exam and Zeus had allowed him to drive his Jaguar. On the condition, however, that he would return it in the same excellent condition that he had found it in. To convince him, Ares had promised that he would not drive away from the city centre either. The young man had been so excited to finally be in command of a real car, that he had forgotten the basics of the highway code. When he had called his parents shortly after midnight, he had to explain to them how he had been arrested for drunk-driving in a car with royal number plates, above speed limit, without a license or an ID. The only ones that could get him out of that mess had been his own parents, since his attempts to convince the police officer that he had been Prince Ares in the flesh had failed. In the end, Zeus himself had had to show up - to everyone's astonishment - and get him out of trouble. The minute Zeus had taken hold of the steering wheel of his beloved car again, he had began to lecture Ares on his unruly behaviour and how he should not have come to his rescue but let him suffer the consequences of his actions instead. Thus began their ever-worsening strained relationship.

"Now, drink your vodka," Zeus let out, bringing Hera back to reality.

Twisting her glass in her hands, she remained silent for a few seconds.

"We really are overprotective, aren't we?" she asked. "As parents?"

Zeus took his wife's face in his hands, forcing her to look at him:

"Better overprotective than uncaring. In our case, it's for the best."

Hera nodded. It wasn't easy for them to raise their children in the spotlight. Perhaps, if those had been more willing to cooperate, or had tried to hide their wilderness, things would have been easier. But it was too late to change them now. The rebellious teenagers had turned into unconventional adults. Like it or not, Zeus and Hera could not interfere in their lives anymore. They no longer had the right to.

Suddenly, the main entrance to the private quarters flew wide open. A guard stepped into the bright sitting hall, looking for anything suspicious. Good for him, Zeus and Hera noticed him soon enough:

"We're fine!" they shouted at the same time.

Embarrassed to have interrupted what looked like a tender private moment, the guard bowed hastily and left at once. As soon as the door behind him closed, the King and the Queen burst out laughing.

They could never have too much police protection in this place!

---

2:35 A.M.

Alimos, South Athens

He couldn't think straight and, in all fairness, neither did he want to. He just needed to conquer a woman - any woman - as a means to satisfy his own vanity. It needed to recover the blow it had suffered from the lady he had danced for, the one that had betrayed him yet acted like it was all his fault. She had crashed all of his hopes and dreams with her high heels the moment she had turned her back on him and left.

Hopefully never to return.

The woman in his arms was different. She didn't smell of expensive perfume but of sweat, smoke, and cheap alcohol. The scent of Athens by night. She had straight, brown hair and pretty sure the closest she had ever come to the upper class lifestyle was reading the gossip columns.

She had flirted shamelessly with him. After all, he was the man all women wanted to bed. And if he was generous enough to offer them a night, they came back asking for more. Only to find the door shut. By him. Not the other way around.

But none of that mattered now. All Ares wanted was to get Aphrodite out of his system, and fast. If it was with that stranger, so be it.

He could pretend he was in Alexandroupoli, visiting one of those "homes". Paid love, just what he needed. No fuss. Just a few minutes of physical pleasure and the subsequent return to normalcy. No phone calls or stupid promises.

He wouldn't ask for the brunette's name. He wouldn't even look at her. She was as tall and slim as the woman he had been trying to forget. That was enough. His hands knew the way. They easily found the right areas to explore and he enjoyed her tangling her fingers in his hair, moaning his name and biting his lips.

Ah, yes. She was just like her. Only different.

He let her take him to her bedroom. It was easy to find. Her apartment was tiny, just a sitting room and an adjoining kitchen, a bedroom and a bathroom. Taking hold of his collar, she guided him to her bed, laughing gleefully. She didn't have the kind of melodic laughter that Aphrodite had but a loud, playful, even mocking one.

As he lay atop her on the much-used sheets, he discovered that she was not one for much foreplay. She just wanted to get it over and done with. She did help him out of his clothes, of course, and he made sure to free her of hers. He still wouldn't open his eyes. Last time he had done so, every detail of his lover's body had been printed in his memory in the greatest detail. As had the visible bruises on her backside. His marks on her. The proof of the decision she kept denying she had taken.

He could feel the brunette's hands on him. Soon enough, Aphrodite would be erased from his mind and this... obsession as she had called it would end. He would go back to being his former, normal self. The man that knelt before no woman. The brutal lover that all females worshiped.

If only she would disappear from his sight!

Even now, as he was trying desperately to break free of Aphrodite's tight chains, he found himself begging to be her slave. Her plaything. She was taunting him, with that Mona Lisa smile of hers, the long black eyelashes and her crimson lipstick accentuating her fiery glare. If he dared look any deeper, he'd see her golden irises shining like fire in the wild ocean that was her indigo eyes.

He knew that stare. She had claimed him. Now, it was too late.

He opened his eyes. He retreated. The brunette understood.

"Don't worry," she told him. "It happens to men sometimes."

"You don't understand," he replied, trying hard not to hide his sense of failure. "This is the first time."

Throwing her head back, the brunette laughed out loud. Insultingly, hurting his ego even more. He couldn't accept that kind of harsh treatment any longer. He had tried to claim two women, only to have his lost self-confidence shrunk even further by both of them. The blond one for accepting to dance along and the brunette for proving herself unworthy of such an honour.

He could see it now. That woman could never amount to anything compared to Aphrodite. That incident had been his body's way of telling him. He could never be free of her curse until he took her again. And again. To make her bow instead.

It's funny, how he had promised to protect her from the witches, only to figure out that she had been one all along. The best of her kind.

Ares got up and started getting dressed. Much to the brunette's dismay. Well, that was something, at least.

"You know, we could try again," she said, trying to hold him back.

"No use. After all, I had someone else in mind all along."

He wouldn't tuck his shirt inside his trousers or tie his necktie. It would take time, which he could not afford to waste. He was sober enough to drive (it had been him who had brought them in that tiny apartment after all) but he felt like he needed a few more drinks before he dared face her again. Some much-welcome poison to give him the strength he needed to push her against the wall and dance with her again. He wouldn't go to the ones in her hotel, no. He'd go somewhere else. Athens was a big city, after all. There were plenty of places he could visit. And all were close enough to where she was living. He didn't care that the King would most likely be informed about his visit. After all, intermarriage was common practice for people like them.

She might have had difficulty accepting it, but he was hers. Every inch of his skin, every fiber of his being. It was her doing, her proudest achievement. And he would make her see it.

Like it or not, no one could hide from the truth.

Least of all the ones who had brought it to light in the first place.

---

3:30 A.M.

Royal Suite, Hotel GB

I wake up to the sound of Blanche's barks. I stir, blink, and suddenly, everything comes into focus. I am lying on my bed, still in my day's clothes. Well, that's odd. I don't remember falling asleep in the first place. But something has happened. Why would Blanche be alarmed otherwise? Her tail is up but not moving. She stands on the bed, looking to the left, to the door that connects the bedroom with the living room via the study. I rarely see her like that...

Suddenly, the door nearby, the one leading to the corridor, flies open. Blanche storms out and in comes my friendly maid. In her pajamas. What time is it?

"I'm so sorry for entering like that, Miss. But His Royal Highness is here. The receptionist called that he was coming, but now the guards won't let him in the Suite. From what I was told, he's not sober."

Oh, for heaven's sake... He really doesn't take no for an answer, does he? This is the part where I should feel grateful for Zeus Almighty's persistence, then. Who knew, his idea to station two additional security officers dressed as civilians outside my very door would come in handy one day...

Yes, I will go to that great length if Ares is unwilling or unable to listen.

"What time is it?"

"Three thirty in the morning, Miss."

I don't even think twice. I just get up and storm out of the room immediately. Blanche sees me as I enter the foyer and wags her tail happily, but I order her to go back to the bedroom. I had made an agreement with the hotel administration not to make her presence known, if I want her to keep her in my room. Which, sadly, I can't say applies to everyone...

Least of all the man that is causing a scene right outside my room...

Both of my maids keep a safe distance from the double doors that are the entrance and I stand behind them, right between the corridor and the foyer. I can still hear him. He demands to see me and the guards keep him behind. Frankly, I don't know who will manage to beat whom first. The security officers are experts in martial arts, but so is Ares. They're not allowed to have any guns with them, neither of them. That's just a detail though. I worry more about the guests from the nearby rooms. I can imagine them, poking out their mobile phones and filming the fight...

Not that I'd blame them, frankly. The hotel hasn't offered that kind of deluxe entertainment since my grandparents hosted their engagement reception in there. How long ago was that? Besides, it's also a good lesson in vocabulary.

See, all three men swear. A lot. Looks that even my own security have decided to let go of courtesy and now try to get rid of him as fast as they can. But Ares has none of it. I can picture him, fighting them off of him, them still holding him back, and all of them losing their temper so much that things will soon get out of hand. More than they already have. If that is possible.

Under different circumstances, I'd feel flattered by all of this. No one ever comes outside someone else's door that early in the morning unless they are desperately in love with them. I have heard plenty of stories, yet it had never happened to me. My cage has always been too safely guarded for me to be allowed that kind of public displays of affection...

And then I hear my name:

"Aphrodite!"

Oh, no. No, he is about to spill everything! He is three words away from revealing the secret. Unless the hotel security is faster. Then we'll be both in trouble, which means that Zeus will find out about it.

Between the people whispering and Thunder knowing, I'll take the former. By a far mile. But I can't risk either at this hour.

Without a second thought, I rush up to the doors but my maids are faster. They unlock and open both of them wide, not caring that they are in their pajamas or about Ares storming in. I stand in the centre of the picture, hands crossed, trying to hide my horror at what I find.

Ares is holding one of the guards by the collar, pinning him to the floor. He holds his right hand on a fist in the air, about to punch him, while the other guard is trying to hold Ares back. But to no avail. Among the three men, Ares is clearly the most well-built. Were he sober, or at least less drunk, he'd have knocked off both guards. Once, as a game, he had practiced his judo skills with four of the our best trained security officers and beat all of them, much to Zeus' pride. It was a competition which, if Ares had won, Zeus had promised that he'd rid him of his security detail.

But now I wish that The Big Boss would have given him a lecture on the subject and changed Ares' mind. Perhaps then I could have avoided such an embarrassing sight.

Acting on reflex, the other maid - the one spying on me - rushes to help the guard on the floor while the guard who is trying to hold Ares back by taking a good grip of his shoulders notices the wide open door. I touch my left ear with my right hand. It's a move that means that they can let this person near me. Part of the secret sign language between us and our assigned security details. But when the guard tries to push Ares into the room, Ares manages to free himself from his grip, turns to face him and punches him in the face.

All right. That was it. The show ends now.

"Ares!"

He turns, looks at me, and enters the Suite. Without saying a word, good for him. Both of my maids rush up to the man that Ares hit. Ares is standing in front of me, towering over me as he has always done. Still, I manage to get a glimpse of the poor officer as both girls help him up. He brings his hand to his nose, trying to figure out just how bad it is.

The maids look at me, quite at a loss of what to do.

"Take him to the dining room," I say. There is a mini bar nearby, with plenty of ice for them to use.

They carry him in while the other guard stands up and promptly closes the double doors behind him. I expect them all to disappear from sight before I can take a good look at Ares. Well, doesn't he look like he has had a long night? His appearance certainly reveals as much. His shirt is wrinkled, as if he took it off plenty of times so far. Or had someone else do the deed for him. He smells of smoke and cheap alcohol. Like one of those run-down night clubs that are only frequented by people who simply have one too many problems. Other than that, he looks weak. Humiliated, as if something terrible has happened to him. If the smell of his breath and his previous maliciousness are anything to go by, I think I can guess what it was exactly.

Then I notice the smudge on his collar. Lipstick. It only becomes visible if you take a careful look at his shirt. Like someone wiped her mouth on it...

Standing before me is the man whose return I dreaded, because I kept thinking he was too obsessed with me to think straight. Much as I was charmed by the mere thought. Still. He is the same man for whom I had to endure two of the hardest and oddest months of my life. For whom I had thrown everything and rode to the unknown with, only to end up in a cheap hotel for a night that ought to remain in the past.

And that's how he took revenge for my "cruelty". For asking him to leave me alone so that no one - especially Hera - would find out about us. The man who I once thought was the very definition of manliness, but who turned out to be a weakling. A coward. Trying to drown his problems with alcohol and to fix his broken ego in the company of... other women.

That could never give him what I can. That do not know him as well as I do. That will never hate him as much as I do now.

He opens his mouth to speak:

"Aphrod-"

But my hand strikes his face faster.