two

December 29th, 1940

"I'm so scared, James," Virginia said in a small voice. She curled even more into herself, leaning against the cold, humid stone of the damp cellar.

"I know, Ginny, I know." I'd been sitting on the floor as well, but I stood up — insofar as I could, anyway, the ceiling was too low to come to my full height — and knelt down in front of her. I gently caressed her cheek. "But it's going to be alright, we'll make it through this, we've made it through so much already. And we'll go away… I'll take you to the country. I'll take you to the lakes, how's that?" I heard bomb after bomb explode in the area around us, but kept my glance firmly trained on Virginia's face. She was all that mattered. My sweet, sweet Virginia.

We would be alright. We would survive all of this. We would go to those damned lakes and then wherever the hell we wanted, and spend the rest of our infinite lives together, once she came to Olympus and attained immortality as prophesied.

I hadn't known instantly that it was her when I'd met her — in fact, I'd only known for a little while. A few months prior, I had been desperate enough about her health to summon Apollo to our modest East London home. He'd healed her, to the extent that he could without raising suspicion about his true powers, but even more importantly, he had taken one look at her before pulling me aside to tell me that this was her, this was who he'd seen in his prophecy, this was the girl I was destined to spend eternity with. The girl who'd help me find myself again.

At first, I'd found it hard to believe. I hadn't expected to find her so soon — Apollo had only made the prediction a little over two hundred years before. But everything about Virginia did fit the prophecy: I'd lost myself since Elisabetta had died, I'd gone savage, rabid even, but caring for Virginia, loving Virginia had brought back some peace of mind. And so I'd come to embrace the idea that this was, indeed, her. But I wouldn't tell her yet, I wouldn't reveal who I really was — not while this war was still going on. She had lost so much to the war already, with her parents dead and her brother drafted. I wanted to delay as much as I could the inevitable moment when I'd have to tell her that I was war, that she had lost so much to me. And we had time. We had all the time in the world, eventually.

So I was entirely confident that we would be fine and that the bombs couldn't touch us. But she didn't know that. She needed to be comforted.

Virginia nodded into my hand silently, her eyes still wide with fear but her jaw relaxing with my touch.

I tucked a lock of dry hair behind her ear, sending out a little bit of serenity with every touch of my hand to her skin. "And we'll have the life we always talk about," I continued, "I'll build us a house, you'll have that garden you've been dreaming of. We could…" I swallowed. "We could try for a baby again."

A tear escaped her eye. "What if we can't? What if I lose it again?"

"You won't. I'll make sure of it." I would have to finally face my mother again and tell her about Virginia. As goddess of childbirth, Hera could help us and save our baby. There was no telling whether she would want to help us — one moment she hated me, the next she doted on me as one of her only two sons. But I would do anything she wanted. Anything for Virginia. "We'll have a baby, we'll have two, hell, we'll have a dozen. And when they're grown we can go here, we can show our children where their parents met."

Virginia smiled sadly. "But how? We barely have a pound to our name."

Her melancholic response told me she was more scared than ever. Once I had nursed her back to health and she had mostly recuperated, so had her spirit; the world still weighed heavily on her, but any discussion of our lives after the war was hopeful and even upbeat. Now, she looked as feeble as she had when I'd met her.

"Oh, darling," I said softly when more tears fell down her cheeks and her shoulders started to shake with fear. I took her into my arms. It broke my heart every single time I saw her cry.

"James," she sobbed, "Can we go there soon? To the lakes?"

"As soon as the bombings end and it's safe," I promised. Or tomorrow. Or now. I could tell her I was Ares, tell her I had the ability to transport us to the countryside within a second and without any effort...

"What if they never end?" Her soft voice was barely audible over the noises from the street above us.

"They will. We will be alright, Ginny, darling. I'm here." I held her tight and felt her tears start to soak the fabric of my shirt.

I had barely finished my sentence when the loudest bang yet sounded and I heard explosions and people screaming much too close. Some building in our neighborhood had been hit — but before I even had time to make up my mind about confessing the truth, another bomb hit a building close to ours and then everything happened at once: the sound was deafening, the heat was blazing, and most of all the force of the blast brought so much air pressure to my lungs, my eardrums, seemingly every single one of my organs and bones that it felt like my entire body was collapsing.

"GIN!" I tried to yell at the top of my lungs but no sound came out and my chest felt like it was being ripped apart. I looked down and released her from my tight grip — and she was fine, she looked fine — my body had absorbed all the energy of the explosion and shielded her. She was alive, but of course she would be, I already knew that much.

But she was gaping at me now, eyes wide; her muscles went rigid and she seemed impervious to the heat — I knew instantly that I had lost my human disguise the moment that the bomb had hit.

"James?" she said, her voice going from weakness to wonderment in that single word, and suddenly I felt her body start to shake, and she started to laugh — she laughed uncontrollably, maniacally really, as she stared at my gold armor.

The cellar door burst open when it couldn't withstand the heat anymore and the fire spread, the flames started licking the wooden steps, the shelves and the ceiling, but she didn't seem to notice, she didn't even look at it, her eyes were locked onto mine and she just wouldn't stop laughing.

"Isn't… that… something," she stuttered between the heaves of breath that alternated with her bursts of laughter.

I knew what this meant, of course. I had seen soldiers with torn-off limbs ramble and crack jokes, high on adrenaline.

Do something, Ares, come on, do something, I thought frantically, and I'd already lost my cover, might as well give it my all — the flames halted their advance, a heatless circle formed around us. She was cackling hysterically rather than laughing now, her eyes crazed and her body so tight that she made not a single movement other than shaking — but just when I grabbed her hand to soothe her and take us far away from here, her heartbeat quieted, she went limp, her delirious gaze stilled, and the sound of her laughter faded seconds before she lost consciousness.

"Gin?" I dropped her hand, caught her shoulders before she fell. "Ginny?" My fingers went to her cheek, but her eyes, their pupils dilating, wouldn't meet mine anymore. No, no, no, come on, please, no — but it was too late, her brain was already shutting down from lack of oxygen. But she couldn't die, right, she was prophesied to live — though had the prophecy ever specified how she would live? Was this her fate? "Gin!" Her skin drooped, her already pronounced cheekbones started to jut out even more, and I could pinpoint the precise moment that she died when I felt the fabric of her skirt get soaked and warm as her body released its fluids.

"No! Ginny! Virginia!" I thundered. I shook her body, but it was of no use — she was gone. I buried my face into the crook of her neck and shoulder, holding her body up, tight against mine as I sat on my knees. "No, please… You were supposed to stay with me…"

And then as I lost focus, the fire approached us again. I felt the metal around my chest, my legs and my face grow so hot it seemed to melt and mold around my skin, the building fell apart on top of us, and we were engulfed in flames.

"Jesus H. Christ, Ares." The voice came from far away.

I rolled over. It hurt. It hurt like hell. My armor seemed to have attached itself to my skin.

"Ares." It was Hermes.

I tried to open my eyes, but they felt like they were sewn shut. I tried to speak, but I could barely feel my lips.

Hermes knelt down next to me. "Ares, can you hear me?"

The helmet banged on the floor as I tried to nod.

"You look bloody repulsive. I've never seen you like this." He paused. "I'll take you home and get Aphrodite."

"No…" I groaned. I finally managed to open my eyes, but I could barely see — I recognized Hermes's blurry outline, but there was nothing else. I blinked and the vision became sharper. There was literally nothing else. The entire house had collapsed and I saw white morning sky.

"Shall I take your helmet off?" Hermes offered, but when he tried I screamed out in agony. It had been welded to my burned face. The fire had consumed me so fully that even my godly self-healing powers couldn't keep up with it.

"Gin? Where?" Those were the only words I could say. I couldn't handle any more.

Hermes looked away. "I had to take her away."

I tried to push myself onto my palms, but the fire had shaped my breastplate such that sitting was impossible. "Take her where?" My strength was ever so slowly coming back. But I knew it would take hours, maybe even days before the burn wounds would finally heal and my armor could somehow be taken off.

"To Hades." Hermes sat and leaned against the wall. "I'm sorry, Ares. I would've let you say goodbye, but I think you've been out for hours."

She was really dead, then. The thought registered in my mind, but it didn't quite reach me.

Hermes frowned. "She didn't die from the fire, did she?"

I shook my head. "Shock." Finally I managed to lift my upper body enough to look Hermes in the eye. I tried to pull the breastplate apart, but it only made my face contort with pain. "She didn't know. Was too much."

"Oh. But how, if Apollo said that she..." Hermes trailed off. He looked me over. "Are you sure you don't want me to get Aphrodite? You've got to be taken care of."

"Fine." I groaned as my metal-encased legs dragged over the rough stone floor. "But don't tell her about Virginia."

Hermes frowned at that, but nodded. "Very well. Come on." He snaked his arm under my shoulders, and within seconds, I was on my bed in my Olympus palace.

I awoke to a warm sensation on my lips. Its energy spread to the rest of my face, and as soon as I realized what was happening, I turned away and felt Aphrodite's lips brush my cheek and pull away.

I opened my eyes. She smiled sweetly, and lifted one hand to her temple in mock salutation. "Good morning, officer."

As she sat down next to the bed, I checked my body. Any skin not covered in metal was dressed in dry gauze. I pulled at my greaves but the material was still not coming away. "How long has it been?" I asked, relaxing my helmeted head onto the pillow again.

"Almost a full day. You've been asleep the whole time." Aphrodite lifted the bandage around my right heel to inspect the wound. "What happened, Ares?"

I groaned and yanked my foot away, pretending to feel pain — well, not entirely pretending — but mostly avoiding her question. I knew that Aphrodite didn't have anything to do with Virginia's death (a relief, given her track record), but I still didn't want to talk about it with her. I didn't even want to talk to Hermes about Virginia. I didn't want to think about Virginia. I didn't want to be reminded for even a second that once again I had lost someone, once again someone I loved had died much too young. Once again I was alone.

I could have protected her. I could have prevented her from being in that situation, the Blitz, altogether. I could have told her the truth — I would've had to eventually — and taken her away from Europe long before the Battle of Britain had even begun. I should have seen it coming. I should have protected her.

Instead, I had killed her.

If it weren't for war — for me — she would have been alive now.

I realized that it wasn't the bombings that had killed her. It wasn't the Germans. It wasn't, ironically, the war itself at all that had killed her. But this war had brought us to that cellar, my rashness and self-assurance had kept us there, and the sudden revelation of my true nature had thrown her into that state of shock.

I could have kept all of that from happening if only I hadn't been so confident that she would live. If only I had realized that a prophecy alone couldn't keep her safe. If only I had done my part. If only, if only, if only.

But I hadn't done any of that. And now she was gone.

Dead.

What was the point of any of it? What was the whole fucking point of my useless existence if all I ever did was kill those I held dear simply because of who and what I was? If Elisabetta hadn't fallen in love with me, she wouldn't have been murdered by the jealous goddess that was currently sitting at my bedside. If I hadn't spiraled into destruction after that, I wouldn't have met Claudine and driven her insane. She wouldn't have been coaxed into suicide by — again — Aphrodite. If I hadn't inflamed the Great War and led it to descend into unprecedented chaos as much as I had, I wouldn't have been banned from this war by my father.

I probably wouldn't have met Virginia, pure Virginia, delicate Virginia, gentle Virginia. But she would have been alive.

Aphrodite's worried voice pulled me out of the reverie. "What were you even doing in that decrepit little neighborhood? Where have you been, Ares?"

"Where was I supposed to be? Here on Olympus?" I scoffed. I tried to raise a disdainful eyebrow, but found it wouldn't yet move underneath the metal. "So I could listen to father and Athena strategizing about the war? He's made it very clear I'm not invited to this party."

She took my hand, but let it go instantly when my mouth twisted with pain at her touch. "I didn't think you'd actually listen to him," she said.

I hadn't planned to. I hadn't given a damn about Zeus's orders and had wanted to bypass all their strategies and get in on the fighting. I'd gone from China, via Poland, to London over a year ago because the United Kingdom had declared war against Germany only weeks prior. And then I'd found Virginia — and none of it seemed so relevant anymore, none of it was as important as her. Zeus and Athena got exactly what they wanted.

"Yes, well, I suppose I can still surprise you," I said.

Despite my bitter tone, she smiled. "You never do stop surprising me, Ares."

"And aren't I so glad about it."

She tilted her head. In its movement, her blonde hair caught the early morning sunlight streaming in through the window and reflected orbs onto the opposite wall. "They were stupid to exclude you. I think they're starting to realize that. They've had Enyo doing some of your work since April, but it's not the same without you. Athena's wars are quiet. Boring."

"The Americans weren't calling it a Phoney War for nothing, Aphrodite."

I'd kept up with developments around the world, obviously, buying the newspaper as often as I could and keeping an ear to the ground — though it was difficult without inside information from my family. If I was going to defy my father's commands and get involved, it seemed the best place to go would be North Africa or East Asia… but I had a suspicion that despite their non-aggression pact, tensions were rising between the Germans and the Russians, and everything pointed towards Athena plotting something there. If I could thwart her plans while challenging father's authority, all the better.

I tried to swing my legs to the ground, but Aphrodite's reflexes were impeccable and she stopped me before I had even really lifted them from the bed. Defeated — and, in all honesty, already exhausted from this one bit of effort — I stared at the ceiling.

"Where do you think you're going, soldier?" she asked with a chuckle.

I closed my eyes in despair. "I can't just lie here and do nothing." If I did, I would only keep picturing Virginia's last moments… her fearful voice, that delirious laugh, her muscles going limp. Her dead body, burning, incinerated.

"I understand, Ares, I do." She caressed my cheek, or rather the bit of cheek that was accessible. "But you won't be able to fight with all this twisted metal constricting your movement. At least wait until we can take your armor off."

I sighed. "Very well."

I had no more reason to stay out of the war now, and there was nothing like a battle to get me out of my head. I wanted, needed this ache to fade. I knew exactly how to do it — I'd done it for centuries. Fury and violence would channel all my anguish, guilt and grief until there was nothing left to feel. Until I had shed the entirety of this human life, detached myself from it so fully that the pain couldn't affect me anymore.

I would never forget Virginia. But I could damn well try.

Aphrodite took care of me for another three days. I couldn't remember the last time my body had been damaged so badly that it didn't heal within a day — maybe it was when I'd driven my own spear through my heart, or when I had swum to the bottom of the ocean and stayed there until my lungs collapsed, or some other time that I'd tried to test the limits of my immortality in the decades after Elisabetta's death.

We ripped my armor off together and with sweet, sweet relief, I could finally move freely again. It was nasty — my burned skin had come away with the sheets of metal, and the fresh skin growing underneath was still very new — but at least I didn't have to stay in that damned bedroom all day.

With another day or two, my full strength returned and I left Mount Olympus without looking back. From then on, I kept myself busy — I hardly even slept. I never returned to Britain, but went to Greece, Thailand, Eritrea, Libya, Yugoslavia, Lebanon and Ecuador, and finally to the Soviet Union. Halting Germany's Operation Barbarossa kept my body working and my mind occupied, and with my help and winter on their side, the Russians ended up pushing the Germans back and winning the Battle of Moscow.

Everywhere I went I left destruction in my wake. But no one stopped me. No one came to tell me to back off. Hermes, Aphrodite and Apollo once joined forces and expressed their concern for my well-being, but other than that, I didn't even see any of my relatives for years. Zeus didn't berate me. Hera didn't express her disappointment. Athena didn't scold me for foiling her strategies — in fact, I hadn't: she had somehow expected me to join the conflict and cause pandemonium, and accounted for it in her plans.

Eventually the Allied forces won the war, just as Athena had projected, with my participation in the war as a vital contribution. Not that I gave a damn who came out on top. I'd only done it for myself, to numb my heartache. I largely succeeded at that: with almost the entire world at war, thoroughly absorbing me, I even managed to forget — sometimes and only briefly — what I was trying to leave behind in the first place. It never lasted, though, and as far as I was concerned, the eventual victory and peace accords were entirely unwelcome.

Because once that war, the biggest and deadliest I'd ever seen (not least because of me), was over, I was left without a clear goal and forced to confront the fact that I was once again alone. So I isolated myself from everyone. I left the other Olympians to deal with the emerging Cold War without me, popping up only when I felt like it, in Korea, Cuba, Vietnam, Afghanistan. I didn't pick sides — because this time, my distance from my family didn't push me towards my beloved humans. They weren't so beloved to me now.

The rest of my family seemed to work harder than ever throughout the twentieth century. They helped humanity make one invention after the other, challenged each other to influence global politics at a breakneck pace, and did their best to save the natural world before mortals destroyed it.

I didn't dishonor the agreement that I'd made with Zeus. I showed up to council meetings often enough to prevent Iris from pestering me about them — or worse, Hermes apologetically telling me Zeus had sent him to fetch me and asking me how I was really doing, with that annoyingly sympathetic expression of concern he wore so well. I knew about everything that was going on in the world and with my family, unlike that year in London. I just couldn't be bothered to get involved more than occasionally.

I was fine. I didn't feel anything, or care about anyone, but that was fine. It was better than the alternative. And after a few decades I didn't even have to push the feelings away, because I didn't have any; I didn't have to remind myself not to care, because I never did to begin with. Nothing and no one could touch me.

Until the night I went to Apollo's concert.