Edit 5/2015: I didn't like the second half of the chapter with the SxL encounter so I tweaked it some. Sorry! It was bothering me!
LW
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LW
The temple was a storm upon Aphrodite's return.
"Lady Goddess, you are injured!"
"This man's bleeding!"
"Mother!" Harmonia cried out, her eyes woeful upon seeing the sad sight her mother made. "Who has done this to you?"
Aphrodite placed a kiss on her daughter's forehead. "Never mind that. Aeneas needs treatment."
Some other priestesses came in with a sturdy sheet. Gingerly, they moved Aeneas onto it and then carried him to the back room where the cots were. With her daughter's help, Aphrodite stood up, and made her way to her own room, separate from the priestesses.
"My Lady," a healer came into her room, "I am but a mortal and your healing far superior, however, I think it would do some good to stitch your wound."
Aphrodite looked at the wound and bit her bottom lip. It was still sluggishly bleeding and the sight of the parted flesh made her cringe. On Mount Olympus, Zeus' healing pool could do much better than stitching it.
But there was her husband. She didn't want to speak with him.
"Please do so," she inclined her head a little in gratitude for the offer. "Harmonia, would you fetch some wine? I have a feeling I'll want to be somewhat numb for this."
"Yes mother."
Meanwhile, the healer prepared her needle and thread and cleansed her hands. Aphrodite bit back a cry when the healer gingerly untied the strap of the wounded shoulder. She didn't know how mortals could stand such pain. The whole of Sparta lived for military prowess.
They're all mad. Just look at which god they favored and it wasn't hard to see.
"It's a shallow cut but long, Lady Goddess," the healer's voice cut through her thoughts.
"Is that preferable?"
"Deep wounds often mark the injured as a dead man," the healer gave her a smile, "though a deep wound would hardly mean the same for an immortal."
"No, it wouldn't," Aphrodite bemusedly agreed. It simply meant that she would not be able to use that arm until it healed properly.
Harmonia entered, carrying a earthen pitcher.
"Pour some in a cup and then on thine mother's shoulder," the healer instructed.
She did as told, helping her mother drink a healthy dose of wine to numb her, though she hesitated on pouring it on the wound. It would hurt her and Harmonia was not used to being the cause of injury.
"Fret not, my love," Aphrodite murmured, "it will be for my healing."
She took a breath in and then tipped the pitcher.
Her mother cried out, but then she muffled the sound by biting some of her blanket.
"Enough," the healer called out.
Harmonia gratefully stopped.
"Has Aeneas," Aphrodite panted a little, "gotten some wine?"
"No, not yet Lady," the healer answered as she began sewing the wound closed.
"Harmonia, go and - "
Aphrodite paused, feeling her instincts go off again but for a different reason.
An immortal is near. She knew he could have masked his presence a little longer, which could only mean that he must want her to know he was here. He most likely had questions. She wasn't certain if she would answer them.
"Harmonia?"
"Yes?"
"My sweet, please let the head priestess know that another god should be arriving. Give him food and drink as well as a room should he ask for one."
Harmonia frowned, but did not ask the questions on the tip of her tongue. She learned that observation was the best way to find out the truth. Words did not always speak true, but body language and expressions did.
Her Auntie Artemis told her that and she lived by that advice.
"I shall do as you ask."
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Ares came to the temple in Cyprus without fuss.
He walked slowly, trying not to re-open his wounds. His battle with Diomedes had been short and aggressive. He was greatly enraged that a mere mortal would dare to harm the goddess of love, so he had been blinded, not noticing that the chariot in which Diomedes used was going slower than it should have.
It had moved as if two beings were in it.
However, in the heat of battle, he only noticed one person. He had not considered a god interfering with this fight even though it was a well known fact that Athena favored Diomedes. He should have known that she would not let Diomedes face the god of war by himself. He should have thought of the ways Athena could do a sneak attack or even take out the horses first before doing battle with the mortal.
There were many things he should have done or noticed, but he had not.
All he could feel was his anger and hatred for this mortal and all he could see in his mind was Sora on the ground with blood staining her cream gown, pain coloring her earthen eyes.
He wanted this man to suffer.
And then when he was satisfied, the mortal could die.
The Fates were hardly in favor of him. He lost to another mortal thanks to Athena's intervention. She had Hades' invisible helmet hiding her as she stood with Diomedes in the chariot. When Ares threw a spear, Athena caught it and helped Diomedes throw it, piercing through Ares' armor.
Those around will say that Ares' wounded cry was as if a thousand men were roaring.
Ares bathed in the pool in Mount Olympus for a short while to somewhat cool off. Then, he filled a water sack and left for her temple. There were many questions to be asked and he would not leave without them being answered.
When he entered the pristine temple, he spotted a figure with red hair standing with the priestesses. Initially, he thought it was Aphrodite, however, when he was closer he could see that the hair was much darker and her form smaller. The girl smiled, her grey eyes a little wary. He knew his daughter's eyes like he knew his sword. Swift. Brilliant. Unlike his blade, however, there was a gentleness there that was a part of her mother's blood.
"Welcome, god of war."
He quirked a brow. Beings generally didn't invite him places.
Harmonia and the priestesses straightened from their bows - Harmonia's being not as deep as the others given who her mother was.
"Where is your mother?"
Harmonia folded her hands in front of her. "My mother is with the healer presently. However, she has extended you hospitality and wishes -"
"I care not for her wishes," Ares scoffed. He slid his gaze to Harmonia, seeing that his brisk tone had cut through her politeness. She looked a little lost, not knowing how to go on from here. He felt his temper wane a little.
His anger was not with his daughter.
"I thank you for the welcome." He looked around, seeing some archways further in. "Does she rest back there?"
"Yes."
He walked that way. The head priestess made to speak, but Harmonia halted her with a hand on her arm. She shook her head and the priestess kept her words to herself.
Observe, Artemis always told her.
And observe she will.
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Leon stepped into her chambers, prompting the healer's indignation.
"I insist you leave, god of war. My Lady is not well and needs time to -"
"Do not trouble yourself, healer," Sora's soft voice sounded out. "He will only kill you if you interfere."
"But Goddess - "
"Leave us," Leon commanded.
Sora offered the healer a smile. "He will not be here long."
He quirked a brow at her sureness, but did not counter it, seeing as it soothed the healer. Once the older woman was gone, he approached her bed, stopping at the foot of it. The top part of her tunic was open and a cloth soaked in herbs was draped over her wounded shoulder. The cloth partly covered her breast, but he could still see the gentle curve of the soft flesh peeking from beneath the cloth.
"You took Aeneas from the battlefield."
She tilted her head. "Yes. He was injured."
He crossed his arms, despite the fact that it pulled at his wounds. "You shouldn't have done that."
"And you shouldn't be in here when I'm indecent," she argued back. "Yet here you are."
"He fights alongside Sparta," his eyes narrowed. "It is shameful to be taken from battle when there is still breath in you."
"I suppose I should have left him there to bleed to death," she bit out, "then he could keep his dignity."
"No," he bit back, "you should have left him for his own to heal him."
"So it isn't shameful to be healed, but it must be by the right people?"
"The wives and daughters of Sparta have been trained to set bones and burn wounds shut," he elaborated.
She frowned with the amount of information he was telling her and then her eyes widened in realization. She looked at him with aggravation.
"If you want to know why I saved him," she clipped, "you simply need to ask."
"I don't need to know your history of lovers," he spat.
"Aeneas is my son," she said with offense.
He was still for a moment. Then, he stared at her with cold eyes.
"You said Harmonia was your first child."
"No," she stiffly corrected, "I never said that."
"...Who's his sire?"
"A mortal," was all she offered.
He glared at her. She glared back.
"I will not name him so you can find him and kill him. Jealousy doesn't become you. I believe I've told you that before." She frowned at him deeply. "If you kill another I care about out of envy I will never forgive you."
"You already live that out," he murmured.
She silently considered him and then looked away. "Is this all you have come for?"
He stayed still as stone. Then, after a while, he uncrossed his arms and undid the water sack from his belt. "Water from Olympus," he said as he tossed the sack onto her bed. "You're a goddess, therefore not limited to mortal healing."
"Give some to Aeneas."
He gave her a chilling blank look. "It's not for a mere bastard son."
She sat up, not caring that the open ties of her tunic slipped the gown down more, uncovering her torso. She bit her lip hard to keep from whimpering. In the corner of her eye, she saw Leon's hand twitch as if to reach out to her, but he must have fought off the impulse for he remained in the same spot.
"I will not use it until you give Aeneas some," she firmly stated.
They had a stare off until he grew tired of the issue.
"I will take him back to camp."
"After you give him the water."
"...Afterwards," he reluctantly agreed.
Without looking at her, he grabbed the sack and left her room. She sat back, content in the knowledge that he will do as she asked.
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Six days.
That was how long Harmonia watched the god of war.
At first, he merely came in the mornings or afternoon. He'd incline his head a little and then sit down to drink. He'd then wander the temple, looking for gods know what and disappear into her mother's room when he thought no one was looking.
The first time she could hear her mother and him arguing.
After that first day, it was quiet. He'd come out with a bowl of bloody water and dirtied towels. She at first assumed he had been cleaning his own wounds, but seeing as he was coming from her mother's room, it made more sense that it was from treating her mother.
The realization made her even more curious.
As far as she knew the god of war was ruthless. He rarely did things for other beings, except for his half sister Artemis sometimes and perhaps Apollo. Why he was cleaning her mother's wounds didn't seem to go with what she knew of him.
The war waged on, but still he came - however short or long.
The day of the Aphrodisiac festival Aries walked with her mother as she oversaw the details of the festival. The priestesses cleansed the temple by burning incense and spreading dove's blood on the stones. Out back, other priestesses were baking bread and grinding salt for the meal. Others were making sure there was enough wine.
Every once in a while, Ares' hand would be along Aphrodite's back and Harmonia could see her mother leaning against it ever so slightly. She wondered if she had seen what she thought she did, but then it happened again, dispelling her doubt.
Harmonia leaned over from the table of flowers to catch her mother and Ares walking further down the way. Suddenly, her mother turned in Harmonia's direction. Quickly, Harmonia went back to flower arranging, ignoring the feeling of her mother's stare. The feeling soon passed.
She looked up a little, seeing her mother disappear with Ares down the hall.
Young she may be, but she was starting to suspect what the others in the temple knew already.
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"Your wound's healing fast," he murmured, his fingers ghosting the pinkish line where the wound closed.
She shivered a little, especially when his fingers drifted down her spine. "That is good news."
She pulled the single strap back on, ignoring his face as she felt his eyes on her. Because of the wound her tunic was a single strapped one. Leon liked it, judging by how often she felt his fingers on her skin.
Slowly, she was opening up to him again.
Surely, she was tempted to respond, to enact, to feel again.
"The festival starts today," she murmured.
As a whole, they will chant and dine. Then as the sun and moon switch places, some will explore the physical aspects of love. Harmonia didn't participate in this part. The girl merely went off to sleep. Aphrodite did the same for the past couple of festivals, however, she wasn't certain that this year she will - especially with Leon still stroking her skin.
Her eyes were molten, heated earth as she regarded him. "Will you participate?"
He stepped closer, pitting her against the wall and himself. "In which part?" he rumbled against her ear.
"All parts," she softly whispered, her fingers tracing his bicep.
His nose ran along her earlobe. She took that as a 'yes.'
"Then meet me here," she lightly peppered his throat, "once the sun surrenders."
"The sun never surrenders," he huskily countered, the feeling of her lips heating his blood, "he merely lays in wait."
She lifted her head and smiled at him coyly. "When the moon rises in triumphant," her fingers brushed his lips, "you will come."
She shivered as his tongue lightly darted out between his lips and brushed her fingers. Heavens, she wanted him, but she would not be hastened in the taking. She knew he was testing her limit, seeing if she would stay with what she said.
"Tonight," she reiterated and then slipped out from his block.
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Once dinner was done and the wine almost finished, the sun retreated.
Harmonia excused herself earlier.
Sora went down the hallway where she told Leon to wait. On her wrists were tiny shells that made a light clattering sound as she walked and her robe tonight was a barely dyed soft blush color. Her hair was half covered in pearls of various colors, ranging from cream, orange, to black. These too made sounds as she turned her head about, looking for her counterpart.
She did not think he wasn't coming, for his teasing earlier told her that he very much wanted this. Where the infernal god was, she did not know. She went further down the hall. She wouldn't be surprised if he was playing games with her. A clatter sounded behind her.
"Leon?" She turned around, but saw nothing.
When she turned back he was in front of her.
He was without armor and wore only his light grey tunic. His eyes promised her pleasure and desirable things to come and she welcomed it all, extending her arms for him.
He circled her slowly. "Are you certain of your choice?"
Her arms lowered to her sides. She turned her head slightly as he moved, keeping eye contact. "Do you ask because of your own uncertainty?"
He paused. "I never doubt myself."
"Nor I," she tilted her head proudly.
He came to her, pushing her against a pillar. Her arms circled him fervently as she touched him, feeling as much of his body as she could. Her breath quickened a little in excitement - he felt even more glorious than the last time they had coupled. Her fingers went into his hair, forcing his head down to her level so she could suck on his lower lip.
"Touch me," she breathed.
She softly moaned as his knee pushed between her legs, teasing out the most sensitive part of her. His hand slipped inside the front of her tunic and she sucked on his lips harder when his warm, calloused hand kneaded her breast. Her soft moan sharpening when his knee suddenly pressed harder.
"Ahhhh..."
She arched her back as he continued his pleasurable torture, even lifting her up more so that gravity aided his knee, causing the friction to be even greater. Her mouth finally released his lips as she threw her head back against the pillar.
"Oh yes," she panted, "Yes."
She slipped her hand under his tunic, grabbing his arousal.
His eyes widened with the initial touch, causing him to draw in a long breath. Her hand squeezed hard and she watched avidly as he fell against her with heavy breath. He tried to straighten up again.
"Don't fight me," she whispered a plea, the back of her free hand brushing against his face. "Let the moon be the one to lead the sun."
He felt her lips on his face, her hand stroking and tugging with a fierceness that did not match her words or lips. She was bolder than he knew her to be, bolder than he had experienced her. He lifted his head and heavily rested it on her forehead. Her eyes were dark and attentive, watching him react as she seduced him. His knee stopped teasing and he moved with her hand, taking the pleasure she was giving.
"Nnhh..." he panted against her neck, his breath hot and unstable.
His mind was a haze he couldn't get out of even if he wanted to. So lost in feelings he didn't even notice when she transported both of them until she tipped him over.
He smelled the sea and felt the warm sand beneath him.
The moon shone behind her as she undressed and slipped her pearls and bracelets off. The calming waves was her music as she let the tunic fall to the sands. She kneeled in the sand, then, slowly, she crawled over him.
"This is the place of my birth," she murmured.
He barely understood what she said when he found his tunic opened and he was bared to her. She placed soft kisses on his chest as her hip rubbed against his already stiff arousal. She teased him further, placing herself in line for him to enter, but she would only let him brush against her.
"You mean to kill me," he ground out between clenched teeth, "sacrifice me to the moon."
"Not kill," she half chuckled, half moaned. "I need you too much."
He had enough of this waiting.
He gripped her full backside and slammed himself into her.
She cried out loudly, her nails immediately clutching his shoulders as he took her hard. She lifted herself and then slammed down into him, arching in pleasure. Then, she leaned forward to him, kissing him desperately.
"Take over," she pleaded, sucking his flesh as if he was coated in ambrosia.
He flipped her over on her back and then thrusted into her over and over without anymore delays.
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Sora stirred from her sleep, her body sore and her wound throbbing.
Most importantly of all, she noticed him.
Her 'pillow' stirred as well, his hand rubbing her hip. She smiled into his chest. She hadn't expected him to still be here when she awoke. A part of her wanted what they had before they stopped seeing each other. The other part knew that a complete return of their relationship could not happen. Not with war still here. Nor with the troubles that came with fighting.
"Did I injure your shoulder?" he rumbled out.
She nuzzled his throat. A complete return may not be possible, but she was liking what was here now. "No. It's just sore." She sighed and then rolled off of him. "Come sea bathe with me."
He watched her stand up and then stood up as well. "Not this time."
She frowned as he picked up his tunic. She pressed herself against him and grabbed his hand, bringing it up to her lips. "Just for a short time."
"I should not."
"...Do you mean to return to battle?"
In a moment of sympathy, he turned back to her. "You know the answer to that."
She bit her lower lip. Yes, she knew he had to. It was in his blood.
"Harmonia may not have been my first child," she pressed her cheek against his hand, "but she was the first that I could raise as my own."
Only the gods could live in Olympus. Part mortals had to prove themselves and earn their godliness.
He looked at her woeful eyes. She disliked war so much, but she loved him - the very symbol of war. Adonis' death and Aeneas' near death experience left her feeling vulnerable as she never felt before. She realized that she may be immortal, but it wouldn't prevent tragedy from occurring.
No one was safe.
She couldn't shake that feeling off no matter what she knew or told herself.
"Let me give you a son," she softly pleaded, "please."
She was not meant for the battlefield, but a son...Yes. A son or a strong, sturdy daughter could look after Leon - could be there when she couldn't. It was the Spartan way, after all, to have sons fight amongst their sires.
He was hesitating. She could tell.
He tilted her chin upwards and her eyes half closed, feeling his lips on hers. It was something close to gentle for merely a split second before she felt his teeth draw in her bottom lip. She mewled as her hands ran along his back.
He laid her on the sand, taking her with more care than he was known for.
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AN: Some parts probably weirded you guys. Be thankful I didn't mention what the festival bread looked like.
It's fascinating to me how the gods can be wounded by mortals. I played around with that concept and figured that it just takes a while to heal, but probably not as long as a mortal.
