She blinked at the grandiosity that spread before her: the lanterns beautifully sprawled in all directions, their colors ranging pink, purple, and gold flecks; the trees were bright silver tonight, reflecting about the high pillars across the garden. Around her the cloudless night sky spread and all the stars seemed to worship her, doing obeisance on the very daisy smell that dispersed from her pores.

She gathered damp golden hair on one shoulder and the water that soaked her body made gentle ripples that faded before reaching the tiles around the pool's perimeter. A long and milky hand reached out to the goblet on her side and she neared it to sweet lips. It smelled of fused grape and blueberries, and ale. She took a sip and went about brooding over Olympus before her.

Awhile she raised the goblet to an invisible spectator to make a toast. A frustrated toast, to specify. Her golden eyes widened and she swallowed whilst lifting her chin proudly. Here's to me, woe to you, Olympus, for not having me as your queen.

"Come back here, Aphrodite,"

His dark voice echoed in her ears and she was deaf to it. Instead she neared the tip of the goblet on her lips and began to twirl the remaining wine to strengthen the scent. She spread her legs on the water and it made a gentle wave.

A body lay lax on the regal bed across the silvery pool. Arms folded behind his head, he let his nakedness be witnessed by the shadows that swathed the hall. His head twisted handsomely but impatient, his eyes glowed scarlet. "I said come back here."

Aphrodite sighed but never tipped her head to him. This spurred him on. "Your king commands you."

This time her eyes met his. She was bathed in moonlight and the droplets that remained on her face made her skin glow further. "Your whore is bathing, my King. Perhaps he could see for himself." And looked away, back to the glittering palace she was supposed to have and now about to lose.

He suppressed a snigger whilst his eyes rolled and his arms disentangled to help himself rise from the bed. The marbled floor was cool against his feet and he made soft tapping sounds towards the pool. Aphrodite remained glaring. Her blood began to curdle watching the ripples against her body as he lowered himself on the water and proceeded to draw near.

The view left her eyes when his face hovered before her, and instead she saw the red glow. His hands squirmed on her thighs and left locked on the pleasant curve of her waist. He pressed his abdomen to cram her hips between his own and the tiles behind her. Trying to catch her sight, he coaxed her with a coy play.

"Aw, stop that..." he goaded, attempting to steal her breath but she rolled her eyes and did her best to avoid the unsolicited attention. He was grinning through and through and it made her burn further. He smelled the smoke that came from the fire.

"Come now, I am to be wed, not to be executed," he stilled her, firming his grip on her small waist, sending a temporary sting of pain. She twitched the edges of her lips and met his eyes after placing the goblet aside. "You promised to not get wed."

He was backed, and tilted his head after a burst of chuckle, "And I meant to, but it was all a part of the deal. I cannot dip a finger to that, besides," he began to trace the curved flesh under his palm, "The bed can accommodate more than one, can it not?"

Aphrodite clenched her teeth and pushed him against his heaving chest muscles. The water around them swelled with currents as she strode to the other edge of the pool, where Olympus was even closer and nearer. She placed her hands on the tiles and continued to stare the sheer magnificence of the palace. The god behind her twisted his lips in frustration and ran a hand across his dark hair, the water droplets made way through his scalp and half the stubble in his face. He moved to her once more, threatening in silence that he would shove her off the edge if she wouldn't sate his swelling thirst.

His hands caught her either sides once more, much firmer this time, and hungrier. His body pressed heavily so her lean back was forced against his well-muscled torso. He buried his face on her nape and the smell of lavender filled his nose until his lips played on her earlobe. Aphrodite writhed but he locked her in place, leading her to just give up.

"Now aren't you a selfish beauty," he whispered, "To be jealous of my marriage. Have the tables been turned now?"

Aphrodite tried to push him through her elbows out of the anger that boiled. But he was every inch the war god now and his voice dripped off malice. "Tell me, sweetheart, truly it isn't the marriage that bothers you now, is it? What is she to y—oh my. Ah..." His eyes widened in a sadistic glee, "No, don't tell me...ha, the throne, is it?"

Again Aphrodite struggled but the more he wound around her.

"I should have known, you sadden me," he bit his lower lip to imitate genuineness but she was more than aware of his game, "Don't you worry, my love, I'd be writing a decree making you the royal mistress."

"You bastard!" Aphrodite can only squeal.

"Careful now," he hushed her, "The bastard is chosen for the throne."

With this she laughed, giving him the chance to doubt his own suaveness. When the heaving of her shoulders died down, she rested her head on his shoulder and temporarily forgot she used to wave him off.

"What's funny...?" he demanded.

"Perhaps she was the real one chosen for the throne," she purred, "But she has breasts and you have the cock, therefore you'd make a lovely pawn to tuck her in."

The war god wasn't pleased at all. Quickly he spun her so he'd see the gravity of mocking in her lovely face. His eyes burned. "Take that back now," he commanded bitterly. When she was unmoved, it was his turn to mock her. A grin split across his face. "You have the ambition of a fox, I understand. Won't you want to join in the bedding, watch herenjoy her husband and perhaps teach her loyalty?"

Aphrodite glared poisonously as she raised a palm to his cheek but he was quicker than a viper and pinned both her arms on the tiles behind her. She looked golden even in loathing, and his eyes fell on the tousled locks of sunshine down to the breasts he enjoyed so much. He'd miss them. But perhaps he won't. He looked at the eyes that spoke to him of jealousy and frustrated ambition.

"Do you think her desirable?" she raved. It left his jaw agape but his lips curled in an amused smile. He thought of her, and nothing else had broke into him but hate. When he learned she was the promised bride, half of him wanted to burn Olympus down and half of him flicked with contained excitement. Athena was a beast, he was sure of it. He watched her fight and he hated the eyes that challenged him to a century of duel, the face that wounded his immortality and his pride during the battle of Troy. But he was forced to admit she was skilled with swords...how his groin throbbed to test her skills with his sword too. Who would have thought his rival in the battlefield would succumb to him on rank?

"Uck," he fussed, and swore he saw a hidden smile in Aphrodite. "She's a virgin for Zeus' sake, they bore me. But I do love a woman who can learn."

Aphrodite rolled her eyes and turned her back on him once more. For a time she thought of Hephaestus sulking on the arsenal, forging and reforging metal by metal until the sun makes its first light. When she was gone he knew, he knew it all along and spends the night awake clanging iron and making water hiss in all his loneliness and frustration. It wasn't her fault, she would tell him. She wasn't an object to be used, she wasn't just a prize to be given away when someone had done Zeus a favor. She had emotions; she was the goddess of Love for heavens' sake.

His lips began to moisten her already damp shoulders and she closed her eyes. She thought of this last night he would be hers. She thought of the grey-eyed goddess she wasn't considering any match for her; but she materialized the diadem on her forehead, the queen of Olympus, and her stomach twitched with envy. The grey-eyed on will take everything from her on the morrow.

She gasped and rolled her head back when pleasure grazed on her thighs. Her breasts quivered under his palm and her hips welcomed the familiar lust that broke in and out of her. His groans were enough to finish her instead. He was so beautiful, and he was hers, and she's losing him on the morrow.

But maybe not.