Forget everything you have been told about the Trojan War.
It was all a lie.
Crafty Homer: the bane of Zeus' existence, a pain in the godly asses of every immortal to every tread Heaven, Hell, and Earth.
Such character distortions that disillusioned writer came up with-some gods he painted in a negative light, others he remained indifferent to, yet all the gods somehow felt that Homer-and all of the mortals-had not done justice to their godly images.
No wonder they liked the Romans better.
The Romans, at least, had the right idea of things. For in Roman Mythology, Thantos was not quite as ghastly, Vulcan not nearly as gruesome, Juno hardly as prideful, Venus not even as selfish, and Mars not even close to as brutish as Homer had described in his Iliad.
Though the writer had gotten some things right...the Trojan War among them.
The Trojan War was, contrary to mortal belief, of no fault of the gods. Paris truly did love Helen. He wasn't swayed into kidnapping her by Love. In fact, Love was among the last to join the war effort.
So, if Hera, Athena, and Aphrodite had not quarreled over the golden apple, how did they-and the other gods-become involved in the war?
To put it simply, it was inevitable that they would. Troy and Greece were, after all, the Gods' homeland, their domain. They would not let the two greatest powers of the time period collapse due to a romantic feud.
And so, the gods entered the scene of the Trojan War. And this is where our narrative resumes...
The mortals were falling like ants, generals toppling over, swords clashing, dust rising. But it was not enough. Athena's forces pressed on, intent upon knocking down the walls of Troy and the arrows of Apollo and Artemis showered down over the battlefield. The gods were relentless in their fighting, all save for, ironically, War himself.
He had long since removed himself from the battle, hardly a scratch on his face. He had grown tired of this purposeless fighting-and understandably so, as he was the god of military might for righteous cause. He ducked low behind the gates of Troy, which shuddered as Greek troops rammed it repeatedly will a giant pillar, trying in vain to break the city's defenses. War sheathed his sword, sighing in nostalgic longing. How he wished for a time when battle was more intimate than the simple throwing of rocks against a gate, when he would go marauding into enemy lines, bringing back with him a string of blood-crusted ears as tokens of victory. There was more glory in wrestling men to death in hand to hand combat for the sake of righteousness than to launch a thousand ships at the face of a woman who was no more beautiful than any other mortal the War God had come across.
How stupid Paris was, he thought. And how stupid his fellow gods, for encouraging such a pathetic skirmish. To abandon all reason for a woman? Nonsense...
But then he thought back to that night with that girl, the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and he supposed he could understand why Paris had gone to such lengths for the object of his lust-remembering that girl, War decided he had felt such a passion before, as well. How fierce and personal, how reflexive and universal, how connected to lust is the desire for battle...War knew this only too well.
A slight disturbance of the air was the only warning he had before he lunged to the side. A sword caught his side, slicing through clothing and flesh.
Pain seared through his body, but he pushed it aside as he grabbed he sword and bolted to his feet. Men came alive around him and the day swelled with the sounds of battle.
He fought two men, the clang of swords blistering his ears. His hands vibrated from the repeated blows as he effortlessly parried and thrust.
Unwilling to kill his exhausted opponents, he left them there to dissolve in fatigue. He backed toward the perimeter set by the Trojan men and nearly tripped over one of the men posted as guard. An arrow protruded from his chest, a testimony to how stealthily the Greek ambush had been set.
The acrid scent of war rose in the chill and filled the air. War surveyed the damage done so far and, disgusted with the progress of battle, decided it would be better if he resumed his escapade.
Ducking behind a pillar, dust rising behind him, kicked up by the hooves of warrior steeds, War tensed as every fiber of his being rippled with alertness. Someone tapped his shoulder and he turned just in time to see a Greek warrior raise his sword. War deflected the blow easily, wounding the warrior, and then looked at the person crouched beside him, a few strands of her blonde hair whipping in front of her face with the forces of wind from the dust storm.
He gaped at her and she stared back at him, her lips parted in shock.
"You?" she asked.
"You?" he said. "What are you doing here?"
"I-I'm..." but she had no chance to finish her sentence as a black horse trudged by, carrying a Greek soldier, and the pair was forced to duck into the shadows to avoid being seen.
War rose, offering his hand to the girl beside him. She took it delicately.
He scanned the battlefield, looking for a safe spot. Finding one, he began to move toward it, tugging her along.
GGRRROOCCCCK...
War's knees buckled. The rock outcropping shook the ground, sending a spew of grayish dust that quickly billowed around them.
Shielding his eyes, he spotted her standing by a figurine, which was now moving toward her. She was in shock, her eyes wide.
"Get back!" he shouted.
He pulled her away and threw her to the ground, landing on top of her. Gravel showered over his back, embedding into his hair and landing on the ground like a burst of applause.
His second though was that his armor would be ruined. And this was the shock of it-that his first thought had not been about the armor. Or the battle. Or himself.
It had been about her.
But that was not part of the plan. She existed for a purpose. She was a tactic, a stepping stone. She was...
"Lovely," he said.
She was staring up at him, petrified, her eyelashes flecked with dust. He took her hand, which was knotted into a fist. "Y-y-you don't have to do that," she whispered.
"Do what?" he asked.
"Be sarcastic. Say things like 'lovely.' You saved my life. Th-thank you."
"My duty," he replied. He lowered his head and allowed his lips to brush hers. Just a bit.
Her eyes widened. But she drew him closer to her, tipping her head towards him.
His teeth scraped her lower lip as he drew back, his eyes steady on hers. Wildly green and hot with need. She put her forehead against his, her fingers playing absent-mindedly with his hair, brushing the nape of his neck in a way that made his breath catch.
She looked into his smoky blue-gray eyes, fringed in dark lashes, and sighed.
"You are so beautiful," she murmured.
He had felt exhilaration at the squeezing of a trigger, the hammering of a gun, the flight of the tracers, discovering a strange pleasure in combat...but the primal aggression, the release, the intimacy of the death struggle did not compare to the look in her eyes as she braced one palm on the wall and used the other to pull his face towards her, tearing away the last bit of civility between them. He left no distance between them, her body yielding under him, stretching around him, drawing him in that much farther. She couldn't get close enough.
You are beautiful like demolition. she thought. Just the thought of you draws my knuckles white. I don't need to be a god. I have you and your beautiful mouth, your hands holding onto me, the nails leaving unfelt wounds, your hot breath on my neck. The taste of your saliva. The darkness is ours.
He broke away from her by the barest millimeter, yet she already felt the pain of his absence, and drew him closer, touching their noses together. Her eyelashes, closed in bliss, fluttered open. She shivered under his feral gaze.
"Who are you?" Ribbons of lust coiled around her, winding tighter and tighter as his voice sounded near her ear.
"Ares," he said in barely a whisper. "God of War,"
The small light by the door flickered, casting shadows across her surprised face. So he was the unutterable enemy, the forbidden apple.
She decided right then that it was this love that would ruin her.
He looked down at her, waiting for her to reveal herself to him.
"Aphrodite," she whispered back, "Goddess of Love,"
How 'bout them reviews? :)
Seriously though, I'd like feedback.