- emma -

Ares literally emanated fury. It was almost like a trick of the harsh streetlight coming in through the uncurtained window: it flickered around him and blurred his massive body as he breathed deeply, then faded once he had mostly composed himself, his flexed muscles relaxing. His anger didn't touch and manipulate me — but maybe that was because I couldn't possibly feel any angrier than I already did.

My throat burned. Not from finally speaking after such a long silence, but from trying not to cry. I hadn't expected to feel like crying — I had thought I would feel strong and vindicated once he proved Aphrodite's words true by calling me Ginny. I had hoped, before he had arrived as Aphrodite had predicted he would, that I would curse the living hell out of him, call him out for everything he had done, and then give him the cold shoulder. That would make it so much easier to carry out the decision I'd made.

But no, all my traitorous body wanted to do, apparently, was cry. I swallowed with some effort, but did my best to keep glaring at Ares with the most spiteful expression I could muster.

"Your friends," he said a little awkwardly. "I've sent them home. How… how long have they known about me exactly?"

So all he cared about was his secret? He couldn't even react to my fuck-you?

"They don't," I said sourly. "Aphrodite said they would forget all about it once they left that place."

And they hadn't really found out about any of it, anyway. Aphrodite hadn't wanted to bother with a whole emotional reveal. She had just snapped her fingers, and then they suddenly knew, as if she had put them in some strange sort of trance. I felt terrible about using my friends like that — no, I should have felt terrible, but in truth I didn't. At least not as much as I felt hurt, deceived and resentful.

"So you—" Ares scratched the back of his neck. "You knew that she was going to do that. You were in on it."

I crossed my arms and tried hard to sound sarcastic, even though I knew my tough act wouldn't fool him. "Sure, go ahead and make me the bad guy."

"I'm not saying—"

Maybe it was petty of me, but I wasn't about to let him finish. "When you say 'in on it'," I said, "do you mean, like you were in all this time on my — how did she put it — unnatural existence?"

"I actually don't think—"

"And like you were in on the fact that I was probably made for you."

"No, Emma, that's—"

Oh, it felt good, this righteous energy hitting me. "Maybe you're in on the fact that you created me for yourself."

"No, I — what?" He frowned. He was breathing heavily, I saw now. Good. I wanted him unsettled. "Is that what she told you? That's ridiculous."

"More ridiculous than whatever truth you'll try to tell me?" I raised my eyebrows for effect. "More ridiculous than you confusing me with a dead girl? Oh, no, wait, let me get this right — more ridiculous than you confusing me with a dead girl who was your destiny?"

Ares cursed under his breath and shook his head. "I haven't—" he started in a strained voice.

"Really?" I said incredulously, only half hearing his words. "You would really keep up the lie? Don't deny it. You thought I was her."

Oh, now I was feeling strong. I reveled in the sensation of putting Ares in his place. He looked beaten, even — or especially — in that stupid military uniform full of dried blood. Not a trace of that confidence bordering on arrogance that I had gotten used to.

"That's not what I said," he objected, a bit of irritation tinting his words. "It's complica–"

"Fuck that, Ares!" I shouted, throwing my hands in the air. "It's not complicated at all! You are the biggest dickhead in the whole world, period!"

"Will you listen to me?" he hissed. His patience was clearly thinning — but then he held his breath and closed his eyes. His chest rose and fell, and his biceps bulged underneath the thick cotton of his shirt as he clenched his fists.

I hated it. I wanted him to lose his cool, to yell at me, to match the temper that coursed through me. His restraint drove me crazy. He was the god of war and violence for fuck's sake, why couldn't he get mad at me? Why couldn't he give me an outlet for my exasperation? Why couldn't he dignify me with a proper response instead of just standing there, waiting for my storm to pass?

"Why should I listen to you?" My nails bit into the skin of my palms and I glowered at him, even though he couldn't see it. "I'm not going to believe a word that comes out of your mouth anyway!"

"So I can explain—"

"Go fuck yourself, Ares! I don't want to hear your explanations!"

He finally opened his eyes. There was an unmistakable glimmer in them. A glimmer I'd seen often enough to recognize it for what it was. My glance slid down from his face to his crotch. Oh, Jesus Christ.

It shouldn't have surprised me. But I stared, slack-jawed, for over a second, before I found my voice again. "Does that excite you? Does my anger turn you on?" I yelled. "You're insane!"

Ares squeezed his eyes shut and quickly turned away, one hand flying down. He rubbed wearily at his face with the other, leaving traces of red from his fingers. And still, still he wouldn't give me the satisfaction of a raised voice, of a real two-sided fight.

Calm down, Emma, please. You're putting yourself in danger. Please.

I heard his tense words — I knew I did, but his eyes were still closed, his jaw was set tight and his lips hadn't moved.

"How — what…" I stuttered, dumbfounded — and then all at once: "You're in my head?! Are you listening to my thoughts?"

His eyes flew open again and, turning back, he opened his mouth, but there was no way I was going to let him speak first.

"You said you would never do that! Listen to this, you fucking asshole!" I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.

"Emma, can I please — I need you to calm down…" He took a step closer and held out his dirty hand. It was shaking.

I slapped it away, and he broke.

My sight went red and into my body flooded an overwhelming urge to scream my heart out, to tear the antique painting on the far wall apart, to launch myself at him. I grabbed a dirty mug from the table next to me without looking and hurled it towards him, but I completely missed and it hit the TV behind him instead, breaking its screen into a million shards.

"Fuck!" I yelled, not out of surprise or guilt but because I needed to yell something, anything, I couldn't keep quiet, and no other word could even come close to alleviating the intense rush of adrenaline. "Fuck, fuck, fuuuck! Fuck you, Ares! Fuck you and your family and your stupid fucking mountain and fuck Virginia! You know what, go for it! Go fuck the dead girl!"

It felt like my blood was boiling but I went ice-cold the moment I looked at him. He was no longer in his army uniform but in his gold armor now, although I could barely even see it because of the light flickering around him again. He looked like he was on fire and I felt a raw power scattering from him, a power that was so innately intimidating that I took an involuntary step back and had to fight an instinctive push to fall to my knees.

I thought I saw a sword in his hand — but one second it was there and the next it wasn't, as the frenzy in me receded and the flaring light followed suit. The red haze faded from my vision.

We stared at each other silently, his eyes a warmer brown than I'd ever seen them. Ares seemed just as unable to speak as I felt. He looked horrified — sickened, even. He laboriously breathed through his nose, evidently trying hard to calm himself. I was gasping, and my limbs felt drained now that that livid energy was gone.

"You are never going to do that to me again. I don't know why I ever let you do it," I muttered once my throat didn't feel as constricted.

If he could change my emotions, and if he was in my thoughts, how the hell could I know he hadn't just compelled me to love him or whatev– Oh no. I did not just think that. What if he'd heard me?

He gazed down at me, chest still heaving, while I mentally scrambled for a solution, and eventually settled for distraction. "You are the worst thing that's ever happened to me," I said softly. My voice had gotten hoarse with all the shouting. "But then again, everything that's ever happened to me is you, isn't it? Because I was made for you?"

I don't think you were.

"Get out of my head." Exhaustion was hitting me; I was too tired to yell. It took me everything not to slump down onto the sofa next to me.

"Emma." Ares was hoarse too, and his hands were still clenched into fists, but he seemed in control of himself once more. He licked his lips. "What did Aphrodite tell you?"

"She told me enough."

"Enough for what?"

"Enough to know that… that you and I — that we—" My voice broke. Shit, now I was going to cry. "That this was never real," I said, choking on the words.

He was quiet for a moment, then reached for me again. I took a step back. "It is real," he said. His armor morphed back into the dirty military clothes. "Stellina, please believe me. This is real."

"Don't call me that." I tried to swallow away the lump in my throat. His hand fell. "How am I supposed to believe you? I bet the only reason you ever talked to me in the first place is her. Because you probably thought I was her. Tell me I'm wrong."

"No," he said, and my heart ached — but then he added, "You're not wrong." He rubbed his thumb over his knuckles as he watched me with anguished eyes.

Would it have hurt less if he'd lied?

"So you faked it." I looked to the ceiling, away from his gaze, to blink away the oncoming tears. Where had all my resolve gone? "You faked the whole damn thing. Our dates were because of her. That kiss… that first kiss we had."

"What about it?" he asked. His soft tone only strengthened my conviction that I was right — because if I wasn't, if he hadn't faked it, wouldn't he defend himself? Wouldn't he fight to prove me wrong?

"I knew I saw something," I said. "The light. You'd… turned your divinity on, or something."

"There's no such—"

"And you know what effect that has on humans," I continued breathlessly. "You knew exactly what you were doing. You made me think that we had this amazing chemistry. That you were feeling the same way. But…" That lump just wouldn't go away. I could barely talk through it now — my voice was starting to sound shrill and hysterical, and I hated it, god, I hated it, but I couldn't not say it. I had to do this.

"But none of it was real. Was it? You saying y–you loved me, was that also just a ploy? I mean, it sounded sincere, but what do I know? You're fifty thousand years old. You've had a lot of practice with lying." I felt like I was oozing bitterness and defeat.

"And I'm twenty-si–" I laughed now, though I didn't feel any mirth — "I am fucking twenty-seven years old so how the hell am I supposed to know when a god is lying to me? I can't blame myself for any of this, can I? I couldn't have known. Because that's just what you are. You're the best liar in the world, you create these perfect illusions, you can wrap anyone around your finger without even really trying."

I stared up at his impassive face while I tried to catch my breath. Anxiety soared through me and my heart was racing, and it didn't help that he just stood there, listening, barely reacting. His silence was mortifying.

"So that's it?" Oh, my voice sounded so pained. I didn't want him to know how badly he could hurt me. I would give anything to stop the tears that welled up again in my eyes. "You're not gonna deny any of it?"

"I want to," he croaked. His broad shoulders fell and he looked away uneasily. "I want to deny all of it. But I can't."

His guilt didn't satisfy me the way it had only minutes prior. It only broke my heart to know that I was right, that it was true, that he'd been carrying this secret and only felt remorseful now that I had found out about it.

"I did lie to you. I did use that kiss to make you fall for me, and I'm sorry," he said. The corners of his mouth twitched. "But then things changed. I fell for you. I do love you."

I remembered those words hitting me hard the first time he'd said them, but they felt so empty now, despite what I'd just mentally blurted out. And yet tears were falling down my cheeks.

"So that makes it alright?" I whimpered. "It's fine that you used me, just because at some point you started to like me? It's fine that you slept with me a thousand times when I was still only a Virginia copy to you?" A realization dawned on me then. Painfully. "You're just like the others. You're so high and mighty about your father and your brothers chasing after unwilling mortals, but you're no better. This isn't any different."

"I would never—"

"But you did!" I bit my lip to keep it from wobbling. "And why? So you could feel like you had her back? Do you see her when you look at me? When you take off my clothes, is it her body you're touching?" The body that had always been hers and never mine.

"Stellina…" he said softly, stepping forward and reaching his bloodied hand out again.

I inched back. "Did you call her that?"

"Never." He frowned, apparently considering the thought. "It wouldn't have suited her the way it suits you."

"What does that even mean?" I turned away and wiped the tears from my cheek before facing him again. "I am her and she is me. I'm her copy. How can something suit me and not her?"

"You're not her, Emma, and she was never you." He looked down at his hand and wiped the blood off on his pants. "You may share a body and a face with her, but that is all. The two of you couldn't be more different. And for the record, we didn't sleep together until after I'd fallen in love with you. For you, not for who you look like."

"That's why you rejected me," I said slowly, after a moment of silence. My voice was a lot steadier, I was glad to notice. "After the nocky."

His lips curved into a sad smile. "Gnocchi."

I couldn't help but let out the tiniest chuckle. The tears had stopped coming, thankfully. But something still didn't make sense. "Why did you disappear after that? And then come back so suddenly?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "I didn't know what to do. I'd enjoyed myself far more that night than I'd wanted to. And then I didn't want to stay away. I couldn't."

"Maybe you should have." I wanted to believe that. It would have been for the best, right? If he had just disappeared and left me alone, forever, to wonder why? If I hadn't known who he was, if I hadn't realized I was never supposed to be alive, and if I hadn't found out about Virginia? Then why did my heart feel unconvinced?

But my mind was already pressing onwards, looking back at those first months. Trying to ignore those feelings. "I get it now, why Apollo was so shocked when you introduced me to him."

Ares nodded. "That wasn't so you could meet him. It was so he could meet you."

"So that he could see me."

"And help me figure out if it was you in the prophecy."

We let the word hang between us for a few seconds. "The prophecy that says I'm the one to tame you," I said then. "Or Virginia was."

He grimaced. "That's the one. Is that the word Aphrodite used?"

"Can't blame her," I said, shrugging, "after what she told me about France."

"Let's… let's talk about France some other time," he said tensely.

There wasn't going to be 'some other time'; I'd made that decision hours ago. But that wasn't the point I wanted to make. I'd had ample time to ponder this since Aphrodite had told me. "Even if you're right, Ares," I said, "that I wasn't made for you but that I'm the one in Apollo's prophecy… That would make me the anchor. Your anchor. So either way, I exist for your benefit."

He stared. His Adam's apple moved. Was he only realizing this now? "You don't…" he started uncomfortably. "That's not — I don't think that's… You weren't born for me. The fact that we're each other's fate isn't the same as… It's not the sole reason you exist."

"The theory that we're each other's fate," I reminded him. At least he'd said 'each other's', and not that I was his… but what good would it do to dwell on that? I had to stand my ground and get this over with, as difficult as it was. "And what if I don't want any of that?"

His brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"This prophecy. Fate. Where's my agency? What if I don't want to tame you?" I swallowed. Here goes nothing. "What if I don't want immortality?"

Ares squeezed his eyes shut a moment in agony and whispered something under his breath. Another swear word, maybe. He rubbed his fingers over his brow.

"I know you want me to become immortal," I continued when he didn't speak.

"I was going to tell you," he said quietly. "Ask you."

"When?"

"Eventually. Soon."

"And then what?" I lifted my hand, but dropped it before I could bite my thumbnail. "If I agreed. If it's even a matter of agreeing. Would I just hang around Olympus for the rest of my life, no, for the rest of time, while you play god and I have to watch my friends live out their lives and not be a part of it? Because I'd stay like this, just so you'd have someone up there with you? Because you're entitled to having me, just because Apollo said you would?"

And had it been a test, my week on Olympus? Had he caused that accident, to give himself an excuse to take me there?

"I never said that. Emma…" He reached out once more. This time I let him gently take my hand. I didn't have the energy to try and stop him.

I looked away. "I don't want to live there. I want to have a normal life, with normal people, in the normal human world. I want to grow old with the people I love." Why was I even talking about this? It was a moot point. None of this was in my future anyway.

"We can do that." He squeezed my hand and lowered his head, trying to look me in the eye. "We can do that together."

I frowned, though I didn't meet his gaze. "But you want me to become immortal."

"Immortality and eternal youth are two separate things," Ares explained. "You can live a full life, Emma, grow old with your friends, with me. You can have a career, we can have a family, we can become grandparents even — we can retire together and go on those cruises that old humans seem to like so much…"

I looked up now. His face was full of hope, his eyes warm and gleaming. So wrong.

"You can have everything that you want, Emms. Everything that life could possibly offer you. And then when you're ready, my sister Hebe will give you back your youth."

"But you don't get older," I argued. What was he thinking? That I would want to hold onto my mysteriously never-changing boyfriend well into old age?

"I could." He let go of my hand, and right in front of me his body started to change — not that much for a few seconds, he just looked a little older and a little less perfect, almost human. But then crow's feet formed at the corners of his eyes and lines appeared between his brows and on his forehead. His hair lost its chocolate brown color, starting at the temples, and went gray slowly, and his skin became thinner and spottier — even his powerful muscles shrank and his back started to hunch. I was looking at an eighty-year-old version of Ares.

"This could be us," he said softly. Even his voice sounded different. It was weaker. He wouldn't command a battlefield with this voice. "I'll grow old if you want to do it with me."

I had no idea what to say. I had never considered this scenario. In the moments that I'd pondered the idea of immortality this past week, I had only ever thought about an endless life in the hypnotic perfection of Mount Olympus.

"And then… and then after that…" I stammered eventually.

"After that, forever. Together, you and me." Ares's body morphed back into its normal appearance. His gaze on me was intense and anxious as he awaited my reaction.

"But then… what?" I said. I suddenly noticed how much my feet were hurting. We'd been standing here a long time, and I was tired, so tired. It had to be around two in the morning by now. But I soldiered on. "Then I just live there on that mountain, in your… palace? Alone? While you're off fighting wars?"

"No!" He grabbed my hand again. "You won't be alone. We'll be together. And you don't have to live there… I don't want that either. We can go wherever we please. We can travel the world. And I'll have to do my job, but you can have yours too, if you want. You could become a photographer. You could start an art gallery. You could go back to college and become a nuclear physicist if you so desired. I want you to have whatever you dream of."

It sounded beautiful. It did. And just days ago, I would've found it the most romantic thing he could have possibly said to me. I would have melted on the spot, run into his arms, and maybe even seriously considered immortality. I might have forgiven him for his secrecy now that I realized he would still let me make my own choices.

But I couldn't waver now.

I bit my lip and pulled my hand loose. "But you wanted all of this with Virginia first. You were going to have this with Virginia."

He opened his mouth, then closed it, his lips twitching again. The sparkles in his eyes dimmed. "I can't change that," he said, tight-voiced. "But I want this with you now. I'm more sure of it with you than I ever was with her."

"But what if I…" I looked down at my fingers and picked at a nail. "What if I don't want to be with you forever?"

He was quiet for so long that I looked up to see if he would even still respond. His jaw was clenched, and he swallowed hard before speaking. "Maybe we should talk about this in the morning. It's late, and we're both tired, Emma. Let's get some sleep."

"Wait, what?" I frowned. "You think I'm staying?"

"…You're not?"

"No!" I let out an astonished laugh without thinking. "You don't think that just because you answered some questions, we're good, do you?"

"I don't think we're good, but…" Ares trailed off as he watched my laugh turn into a scowl.

"I mean, I'm glad you did," I said, secretly reveling in how steady I felt and how awkward he looked, "but I'm still really fucking mad at you. Can't you sense that?"

"I try not to," he said in a clipped voice, as if I'd offended him with the mere suggestion that he might try to sense my feelings.

I raised an eyebrow. "You didn't happen to take my suitcase home from Aphrodite's place, did you?"

"Emma… come on." He was starting to sound a little impatient. "Please just stay here tonight. I'll send someone to get your suitcase."

"No, Ares." I laughed again, though harshly. "You don't get it, do you? We're done."

In the seconds that it took for him to realize what I was saying, I imagined the ways in which he might react. Maybe he'd start yelling, get angry. Maybe he'd take a page out of Apollo's book and threaten my life for trying to leave him. Maybe — though this one seemed highly unlikely — he'd start crying and beg me to take him back.

But his eyes just widened.

"Emma."

"Ares," I replied sarcastically.

"You're not serious."

"I'm pretty sure I am."

"Can't we… talk about this?" A little despair shone through his cool expression now. "What can I do to make it okay?"

"We've been talking, Ares." I sighed. "But nothing you can say will change the fact that you knew all of this from the start and you didn't tell me."

"I would have, Emma, I swear, but I wanted to figure out f–"

"But it's not about you! It's about me!" I crossed my arms and glared. "It's about my entire life and about who I am. About why I was born and where I'm going. This wasn't your secret to keep."

His knuckles were white, and his shoulders were tense again — but he was quiet for so long, staring, that I eventually dropped my arms, shrugged, and half-turned to the open door. "Whatever. Goodbye, Ares."

"Wait." He was next to me suddenly, looking at me imploringly.

I ignored him and walked into the hallway, grabbed a jacket off the coat rack — where was my burgundy peacoat? I'd left it here, hadn't I? — and swung the front door open. A cold wind holding the promise of snow blew in.

"Wait, Emma!" Ares called after me while I descended the stone steps and pulled on the jacket, and with a sudden flash of light, bright against the dark night, he was in front of me at the foot of the steps. "Emma, please… Let me at least take you home." He held out his hand.

I briefly stared at his open palm, but shook my head. "No. I'm going to walk. Like humans do." I didn't care anymore about the neighbors possibly hearing that word.

"But it's freezing, Emma, and it's not safe," he pleaded. "It's the middle of the night."

I rolled my eyes. "Maybe you can have your birds stalk me. Get out of my way."

He groaned wearily and looked up at the starless sky. "I was only ever concerned for your safety."

"You should've told me." Yet another thing he'd kept from me.

"Yes. I should have," he agreed. He met my gaze. "Please let me take you home."

"I'll just get an Uber," I said, sighing with resignation, and dug my phone out of the back pocket of my jeans. Ares kept staring at me while I navigated to the app, ordered a taxi, and plopped down onto the cold stone to wait.

I looked up, shooting him an irritated look. "You can go inside, you know." I scooted aside to make room for him to pass me.

"I don't want to," he said. He seemed at a loss for meaningful words, and didn't move or look away.

"Fine. Suit yourself." I scrolled through my messages. There were a few from friends who had texted me at midnight to wish me a happy birthday. One from my mom, asking why I wasn't picking up her calls. Worst birthday ever, I thought to myself — and then, Shit. I ventured a quick look up at Ares's face. Maybe he'd heard me. He was still looking at me with wide eyes, lips pressed into a tight line.

And then finally, finally, a black car stopped in front of the house. I got up and walked towards it. After a second's apparent hesitation, Ares strode ahead of me and opened the rear door. He briefly grasped my hand before I lowered myself into the car.

"Call me when you get home," he said gruffly.

I looked him in the eye, and swallowed. Maybe this was the last time I'd ever see those brown eyes. "Yeah, I'll text," I said, and cast my glance downward as I moved to step into the car — but at the last moment I straightened and turned back.

"Do you have any idea who made me?" I asked him quietly. What would the driver think of that question? And of his bloodsoaked military fatigues, come to think of it? And did I honestly care?

Ares, whose glance was somewhat vacantly on the dark windows on the other side of the street, looked back in mild surprise. "No, I don't," he answered earnestly.

"So it could have been you."

"I didn't. I swear." Was he leaving off the end of that sentence on purpose? But then — "On Styx."

Oh.

I frowned. "What if you did, though?"

In the car, the driver started humming and I looked over my shoulder; he had put in his earphones with his music on so loud that I could hear it from here. Ares must have made him do that. I looked back up, glad that we had the car door between us.

"What if you wished so hard for her to come back," I continued, "that you accidentally created me? What if the only reason I was ever born at all is because you missed someone else so much?"

Ares stared down at me silently and intently. The seconds seemed to stretch into minutes. His fingers, next to me on the roof of the car, twitched a little.

I didn't look away. I wouldn't. I wouldn't be weak enough to look away from him while he was scrutinizing me like that.

"I never wished her back," he eventually said with some finality. "I've always accepted her death."

I lowered my glance to his chest now, catching my bottom lip between my teeth. He put his hand on my cheek and lightly stroked my skin with his thumb — I jerked my head away, shaking off his fingers.

"And yet I'm here," I said. "For you. Maybe whoever made me should have put a neat little bow on me and delivered me at your palace."

"Em," he said softly, after a pause. "Stay."

It wasn't an order like the one Aphrodite had given my body. I didn't feel that strange loss of control, and his expression was pleading when I looked up.

"What, so you can make me immortal and I can live out my purpose of being yours?"

"Give me a chance, Emma. Please."

Should I? Did I owe him that, one last chance? I watched his face, the downturned corners of his full lips, the furrow of his brows. The pure desperation and devastation in his eyes.

Then I looked away for the last time. "I can't," I whispered, and lowered myself into the car seat, numb and staring into nothingness.

The driver hummed a few more notes of his song before taking out his earbuds and turning in his seat to greet me with a smile. Ares closed the door, the car started moving, and I let my back fall into the soft leather.

If you ever need me, Em, I'll come when you call.

I almost huffed at the sound of his voice in my mind. If I called, not when. I hadn't needed him before and I wouldn't need him again. I didn't even care about him possibly hearing those thoughts.

But right before the car turned the corner, I twisted to look out the rear windshield — just in time to see a flash of light, and I knew in my bones that Ares was gone.