Aphrodite's Choice
Chapter 50 - A Violent Confrontation
Chapter 50 – A Violent Confrontation
Ares continued ranting, unaware of the love goddess’ apparent dislike. “He didn’t even bother giving you any proper clothing! You look like a kitchen slave,” he said, his voice rising by an octave.
She opened her mouth to protest. Ares had got it all wrong: she simply fell asleep right after her bath and the simple cloth was what she covered herself with as she returned from the hot spring. But before Aphrodite could get one word in, the war god cut her off again with his words. “We can talk about this outside. Come on,” he said as he offered an outstretched hand again.
This time she made her feelings clear. She slapped it away as if it was some annoying insect as she said “Why should I? You’re the only one who needs to leave this place.”
Ares looked at her eyes bulging in surprise as he realized for the first time that the love goddess felt nothing but disdain towards him.
She continued, “I’ll admit, it was pretty impressive that you were able to get past Hephaestus’ defenses. But did I ask you to come rescue me? Did I even say that I needed, or wanted, rescuing?”
His mind unable to reconcile reality with how he imagined his rescue would work out, Ares could do nothing but blubber out. “You can’t say that. I bowed my head to my mother and pleaded with her for the first time ever, because of you.”
“You pleaded?”
“For her to make you mine, or if not, to at least turn a blind eye to what I was about to do.”
“What’s the difference?” responded Aphrodite, suddenly aware that the god in front of her was quite likely insane or demented.
“If it was up to me, I would have your marriage annulled. But if not, I can settle for Zeus and Hera allowing us to be lovers.”
The goddess of love laughed at this. No, “barked” was a more appropriate word as the sound that came out of her mouth was very un-ladylike. Such was the effect Ares and his delusions had on her. He thought he was coming to rescue her, and he seemed very proud of his progress so far. But the need for a rescue was the second-farthest thing from her mind, with the choice of Ares as rescuer coming in at the first place.
Suddenly tired of expending words on the apparent madman in front of her, Aphrodite secured the loose cloth around her with a tight knot and then turned her back on him.
“I’m not leaving without you!”
“My dear, that’s exactly what you are going to do,” said Aphrodite, as a tiny laugh came out of her mouth.
“You’re really not coming with me?”
Aphrodite ignored her, thinking that by putting an end to this discussion, it would also put an end to Ares’ intrusion. However, what happened next showed that she had underestimated Ares’ resolve to get what he wanted. After all, trespassing into another god’s sanctuary was no trifling matter, even for notorious rule-breakers such as the God of War. He was already inside. Why should he risk punishment without getting his reward?
All these thoughts came a second too late as Ares closed the distance between them with two steps and then hoisted her up his shoulders as if she was a sack of flour.
“What are you doing! Put me down!” she screamed.
“I’ll put you down outside.”
“I’m not leaving!” screamed Aphrodite again, but to no avail. Ares had begun walking towards the sanctuary’s gates. The commotion had attracted the attention of Hephaestus’ servants, but no one in their right mind would dare tangle with a god, much less the most violent of them all. All they could do was have their jaws hanging and eyes bulging in shock at the War God’s audacity to trespass in the Blacksmith God’s territory and then kidnap his wife. A brave soul did manage to shout out.
“You can’t do this!”
“Worms,” muttered Ares, eyeing the servant in disgust. He lifted one hand which burst into flame. The goddess of love screamed once again, certain of what was to follow. So did the servants as they scattered like birds.
But just as a crimson fireball erupted from the War God’s hand, a wall of flame, this one dark and almost black, burst from the floor between him and Hephaestus’ servant. The fireball fizzled harmlessly as it hit the barrier. Everyone in the room knew the source of such power.
“Hephaestus!” said Aphrodite happily. She then twisted Ares’ left ear with all her might, making him drop her in surprise. But as she made to run towards her husband, the would-be kidnapper grabbed her arm and pulled her back savagely.
“Where do you think you’re going, my sweet lady,” he said in a voice dripping with fury. He then turned his attention on the owner of the sanctuary. With a crooked grin which made his ruggedly handsome face look ugly, he said, “How did the bastard who drags his leg everywhere get back here so fast?”
As usual, the insult seemed to bounce off the Blacksmith God, though whether it was due to a slight form of stupidity or an enormous amount of patience, neither kidnapper nor victim could tell.
“Ares, why have you dared to do this?” said Hephaestus in the same tone as if they were simply discussing about the weather.
“Dared? You spring a trap so predictable and obvious, and you ask me about daring to do things? Yes, I knew all about that bed and net. You did not catch me. I willingly walked into it, you fool,” said Ares smugly. “But enough talk. You’ll never hinder my plans again,” continued the War God as he roughly pushed Aphrodite to one side while he unsheathed his gigantic sword. The goddess of love ran to her husband’s side and embraced him.
“Die!” bellowed Ares as he leapt into the air, sword held high.
With a thunderclap-like sound, the ground shook as the god of war landed near his foe. The dust that exploded and filled the air was so thick, no one could see beyond their extended hands, much less as to whether Ares actually struck Hephaestus.
As the haze began to thin, Aphrodite could see that her husband had moved several steps away. She hurried to his side, relieved at the thought that he had avoided the blow when the sight made her freeze.
Blood was flowing like a river down his forehead and temples, though his thick hair covered the wounds from sight. Still, the goddess of love could only imagine what kind of cuts could cause such a crimson stream.
Ares continued ranting, unaware of the love goddess’ apparent dislike. “He didn’t even bother giving you any proper clothing! You look like a kitchen slave,” he said, his voice rising by an octave.
She opened her mouth to protest. Ares had got it all wrong: she simply fell asleep right after her bath and the simple cloth was what she covered herself with as she returned from the hot spring. But before Aphrodite could get one word in, the war god cut her off again with his words. “We can talk about this outside. Come on,” he said as he offered an outstretched hand again.
This time she made her feelings clear. She slapped it away as if it was some annoying insect as she said “Why should I? You’re the only one who needs to leave this place.”
Ares looked at her eyes bulging in surprise as he realized for the first time that the love goddess felt nothing but disdain towards him.
She continued, “I’ll admit, it was pretty impressive that you were able to get past Hephaestus’ defenses. But did I ask you to come rescue me? Did I even say that I needed, or wanted, rescuing?”
His mind unable to reconcile reality with how he imagined his rescue would work out, Ares could do nothing but blubber out. “You can’t say that. I bowed my head to my mother and pleaded with her for the first time ever, because of you.”
“You pleaded?”
“For her to make you mine, or if not, to at least turn a blind eye to what I was about to do.”
“What’s the difference?” responded Aphrodite, suddenly aware that the god in front of her was quite likely insane or demented.
“If it was up to me, I would have your marriage annulled. But if not, I can settle for Zeus and Hera allowing us to be lovers.”
The goddess of love laughed at this. No, “barked” was a more appropriate word as the sound that came out of her mouth was very un-ladylike. Such was the effect Ares and his delusions had on her. He thought he was coming to rescue her, and he seemed very proud of his progress so far. But the need for a rescue was the second-farthest thing from her mind, with the choice of Ares as rescuer coming in at the first place.
Suddenly tired of expending words on the apparent madman in front of her, Aphrodite secured the loose cloth around her with a tight knot and then turned her back on him.
“I’m not leaving without you!”
“My dear, that’s exactly what you are going to do,” said Aphrodite, as a tiny laugh came out of her mouth.
“You’re really not coming with me?”
Aphrodite ignored her, thinking that by putting an end to this discussion, it would also put an end to Ares’ intrusion. However, what happened next showed that she had underestimated Ares’ resolve to get what he wanted. After all, trespassing into another god’s sanctuary was no trifling matter, even for notorious rule-breakers such as the God of War. He was already inside. Why should he risk punishment without getting his reward?
All these thoughts came a second too late as Ares closed the distance between them with two steps and then hoisted her up his shoulders as if she was a sack of flour.
“What are you doing! Put me down!” she screamed.
“I’ll put you down outside.”
“I’m not leaving!” screamed Aphrodite again, but to no avail. Ares had begun walking towards the sanctuary’s gates. The commotion had attracted the attention of Hephaestus’ servants, but no one in their right mind would dare tangle with a god, much less the most violent of them all. All they could do was have their jaws hanging and eyes bulging in shock at the War God’s audacity to trespass in the Blacksmith God’s territory and then kidnap his wife. A brave soul did manage to shout out.
“You can’t do this!”
“Worms,” muttered Ares, eyeing the servant in disgust. He lifted one hand which burst into flame. The goddess of love screamed once again, certain of what was to follow. So did the servants as they scattered like birds.
But just as a crimson fireball erupted from the War God’s hand, a wall of flame, this one dark and almost black, burst from the floor between him and Hephaestus’ servant. The fireball fizzled harmlessly as it hit the barrier. Everyone in the room knew the source of such power.
“Hephaestus!” said Aphrodite happily. She then twisted Ares’ left ear with all her might, making him drop her in surprise. But as she made to run towards her husband, the would-be kidnapper grabbed her arm and pulled her back savagely.
“Where do you think you’re going, my sweet lady,” he said in a voice dripping with fury. He then turned his attention on the owner of the sanctuary. With a crooked grin which made his ruggedly handsome face look ugly, he said, “How did the bastard who drags his leg everywhere get back here so fast?”
As usual, the insult seemed to bounce off the Blacksmith God, though whether it was due to a slight form of stupidity or an enormous amount of patience, neither kidnapper nor victim could tell.
“Ares, why have you dared to do this?” said Hephaestus in the same tone as if they were simply discussing about the weather.
“Dared? You spring a trap so predictable and obvious, and you ask me about daring to do things? Yes, I knew all about that bed and net. You did not catch me. I willingly walked into it, you fool,” said Ares smugly. “But enough talk. You’ll never hinder my plans again,” continued the War God as he roughly pushed Aphrodite to one side while he unsheathed his gigantic sword. The goddess of love ran to her husband’s side and embraced him.
“Die!” bellowed Ares as he leapt into the air, sword held high.
With a thunderclap-like sound, the ground shook as the god of war landed near his foe. The dust that exploded and filled the air was so thick, no one could see beyond their extended hands, much less as to whether Ares actually struck Hephaestus.
As the haze began to thin, Aphrodite could see that her husband had moved several steps away. She hurried to his side, relieved at the thought that he had avoided the blow when the sight made her freeze.
Blood was flowing like a river down his forehead and temples, though his thick hair covered the wounds from sight. Still, the goddess of love could only imagine what kind of cuts could cause such a crimson stream.