"A child conceived by War and Love, no god shall live to see." Zeus paced back and forth across the marble hall, the low thunder of his voice bouncing across the walls and pillars.
"War and Love, as in, the God of War and the Goddess of Love," Hera mused.
He glanced at his wife with disapproval. It was preposterous, really — her face was as indifferent as if he just stated that he was going to have a cup of nectar, not like he just quoted the prophecy that meant they could perish any moment.
"This cannot happen."
"What do you suggest, dear husband? Keeping an eye on that frivolous daughter of yours?"
"How about putting a leash on that useless son of yours, dear wife?"
"He is your son, too."
"I refuse to hear such insult. He never amounted to much, and now he is bringing the Twilight upon us."
"You seem unusually distressed, my dear."
"Forgive me if I happen to value my existence."
"We all value our existence, dear husband. Some of us are capable of staying calm regardless, that is all."
"Wise as you always are, my dear." He let out a sigh of impatience and dematerialized into his private quarters, his wife's words echoing in his ears. How come the most polite phrases would always sound like an insult when she said them? Well, he was not the one to stay calm, knowing what he knew, what she didn't know — what he didn't disclose to her.
That it was all about that son of hers, the apple of her eye, whom he, Zeus, was unfortunate enough to have begotten. Although, never before had the boy instilled fear in him; contempt and pity, yes, anger, often, but fear — it was a first.
"…once a child is conceived by War and Love, the King's throne the Son claims; the Old passes, the New is born..." The Fates' voices rang in his head, time after time.
He needed to act. And be haste about it. Should it cross his wife's mind to visit the Temple of the Fates herself, issues were bound to arise. And the last thing he needed was more issues now; it was an issue enough to devise a plan on how to get rid of Ares before the child was conceived — without Hera getting in the way — if it hadn't been conceived already — and that he would hate, to be forced to kill Aphrodite, the beloved daughter of his.
In fact, the only way to spare her life was to kill Ares, and without further ado. As of now, every moment counted.
With a wave of his hand, a portal appeared, showing him that frugal son of his — quite obviously busy and definitely not on the battlefield.
One thing he was good for — recklessly spreading his seed around the earth.
Well, at least he knew how to choose them. Letting his eyes roam approvingly over the voluptuous, nude form of the brunette for another moment, with a contemptuous smirk, Zeus snapped the portal close.
And he wouldn't have given it much of a thought, if it hadn't been for the fact that, the next several times he opened the portal, the woman was always there; not nude anymore. Fully dressed, wielding a sword. A warrior.
Zeus smirked at the scene. Ares really lacked dignity — letting a mortal point a sword at his chest like that? — no wonder he was losing followers.
And maybe Zeus would've shut the portal close at this point and forgotten all about it the next moment — he likely would have — if he hadn't caught a glimpse of his son's face, his eyes when, the sword vanishing from between the two, he pulled the woman into his arms, his chest heaving, the look in his eyes, his face—
Zeus's eyes widened. "War in love…" he muttered pensively.
That was it… the prophecy… not War and Love — War in love…the child conceived by War in love…
Too uncanny to be a coincidence. Ares wasn't known to have such sentiments. In that department, he was colder than his mother.
He inhaled slowly, and let the air out.
This couldn't wait.
#
After he learned that her mother died, he stayed away for a bit. For no reason, just, he didn't like seeing her in this state.
He was busy in Sparta, anyway; he didn't have time for distractions.
He'd open a portal, at night, when he knew she'd be asleep; and watched her; and felt so fucking stupid doing this; and couldn't stop, every time.
One night, one of those times, he noticed that she looked sad even when she slept. And it annoyed him, somehow; that she looked like this, and that he ached to go to her so much it was unbearable.
Well, he wasn't going to wake her now. He'd go tomorrow.
And then, tomorrow came.
And it was a needling pain in his chest, a short impulse.
He didn't know he could sense her like that.
He didn't get it, at first; he stirred in his seat, disoriented, looking around blindly, his heart thudding. Something was wrong.
Without thinking what he was doing, he opened a portal.
With her in it. And his father.
And he didn't even know how he did that, how he knew where she was without localizing her first, but he was there within a heartbeat.
He opened his mouth but his throat froze at the sight; her, sinking to the ground, holding onto her stomach with blood-covered hands, her face pale, eyes fading, his father's thunderous voice filling the ether, none of it reaching him.
"Did you do this?" he asked weakly, his heart faltering as he sank to his knees by her side, catching her head right before it hit the ground.
"I just saved your life, you fool."
He didn't understand a word, he just felt blinding heat envelop him head to toes as he cradled her in his arms; some strange paralysis, trance-like.
"The child had to die, Ares. Unless you want us all to perish."
"The child…" he echoed, disoriented, watching the lush green grass turn red where the blood seeped from the wound in her stomach.
"The offspring you sired, you fool…" Zeus' roaring voice reached him as if from behind a wall, "…was prophesied to bring about our death…"
Not hearing anything anymore, he scooped her in his arms and teleported them to the Halls of War, laid her down on the bed. Her lids were closed, chest rising and falling in short, rapid breaths.
"He took me by surprise… didn't see him coming," she frowned, watching the blood gush from the hole in her stomach. He produced a huge piece of linen and pressed to stop the bleeding but the fabric was all soaked red in a heartbeat; too fast, something was wrong; somehow, he couldn't heal the wound, either; each time he tried, it was like his energy bounced back.
"You're pregnant?" he said in a hoarse whisper, pressing his hand to her stomach.
"I don't know… I didn't know…"
"Is it mine?" he asked quietly.
"There hasn't been anyone else… for a long time," she said, a bit reluctantly, the confession sending a wave of some strange emotion over him. "It's so cold in here…" she muttered, shivering.
He produced a thick blanket and wrapped it around her. "I can't heal you, my powers are not working…" he said with effort, his heart sinking.
"It's okay," she said, squeezing his hand.
"No, it's not fucking okay!" he yelled.
"Just be with me…" she uttered, giving his hand another light squeeze, calming him down.
"You — can't leave."
"Maybe it was meant to end this way… I've done enough harm to the world…"
"Gods, you're — you have no fucking idea, do you? What you've done to me…"
"You'll find someone else… you always do, don't you?" she said, her tone changing slightly; was this jealousy? There weren't others, not anymore; didn't she know that?
"There is no one else," he said, his voice almost breaking.
"You'll be fine."
"Will you just stop fucking saying it?"
"It's freezing…"
Instinctively, he reached for her hand to warm it, the futility of it dawning on him shortly after, his chest contracting with some feeling he didn't recognize, some despair that made it hard to breathe. "It's yours…" he breathed, stroking the nape of her hand with his thumb, feeling as it was losing warmth with each passing moment.
"What?" she asked breathlessly.
"All you asked for," he said, licking his dry lips, pressing her palm to his heart, his voice feverish with some hope that, somehow, his words could stop her, keep her alive. "…My life, my soul, and my heart."
"Didn't know you had one," she said quietly, her eyes welling up, softening in that way that he loved so much.
"Neither did I."
"It's no deal without your body, though," she managed a little grin, but he couldn't bring himself to return it.
"So, you think you can fuck with my mind and then just leave?" he said, annoyed with how his vision kept getting blurry.
"You're a god, you'll be fine," she whispered on her last breath, her fingers cold in his hand, cold against his lips, and then, strangely, slowly, she was fading from sight, until he thought he lost his mind, because, eventually, there was no trace left of her, like she was never there.
For a longer while he just stared, at the little heap of the crumpled blanket on the ground; all that was left of her.
Then, slowly, he rose to his feet, his blood boiling, heat filling him up as he ached to make the whole world pay for this.
He took a moment to cool off.
After a while, the heat was gone. He just felt empty.