Chapter 5: Ares and Athena

By his calculations, his new fiancée would arrive by high noon. To pass the time, Ares had gathered a handful of his demigod and Titan followers for a morning hunt in the sprawling, untamed forests of Olympus. He fully intended to catch a fitting welcome gift for the Princess of Sparta.

He carried his favorite spear and a heavy, custom-forged titanium shield. Every piece of his hunting gear had been masterfully crafted by his brother, Hephaestus. But thousands of years had passed since the blacksmith had last been willing to forge a single blade for him. Their relationship had completely shattered the day Helios, the Sun God, had caught Ares tangled in the sheets with Aphrodite.

Consumed by a bitter rage, Hephaestus had successfully humiliated them both, ensnaring Ares and the Goddess of Beauty in a complex, mechanical net rigged directly to their golden bed.

The scandalous affair had sent Zeus into a hypocritical fury, resulting in Ares’s banishment from Olympus for several decades. Ares still couldn't wrap his head around the sheer audacity of it. Didn’t Zeus himself, as his father, practically write the manual on divine infidelity? There wasn't a number high enough to count the mortal women who had fallen victim to the King of the Gods' insatiable lust.

Hera—Ares’s biological mother and the fiercely proud Goddess of Marriage—was utterly powerless to leash her husband's wandering eye. Instead, she channeled her venom into ruthlessly persecuting Zeus’s lovers and his illegitimate bastards, like Hercules.

But Ares hadn’t learned a damn thing, and he had absolutely no intention of ending his affair with Aphrodite. Because of his stubbornness, securing new weaponry had become a nightmare. Swords and spears forged by lesser blacksmiths constantly shattered under his brutal strength; nothing could ever match the lethal perfection of Hephaestus’s work.

“Ares!” a female demigod shouted through the trees, signaling that she had finally tracked down their target.

The Lord of Battle and his hunting party immediately surged toward the call. Breaking through the tree line, they found it: a monstrous, three-horned bull, easily twice the size of a normal beast. Despite its terrifying, spiked appearance, the creature was currently grazing peacefully in the sun-drenched clearing.

“What do you think?” one of the Titans murmured.

“The meat is utterly useless—far too tough to chew,” Ares noted, his dark eyes fixed on the prey. “But it’s a magnificent, formidable beast. I’ll sever its head and present it as a gift to the Princess of Sparta.”

“Are you serious?” A red-haired demigod balked, giving Ares a look of pure bewilderment. “Giving a mortal woman a bloody, severed head? Don’t women usually prefer, I don't know, jewelry and gold?”

“I am the God of War and Destruction. Handing out delicate trinkets isn’t exactly my aesthetic,” Ares countered stubbornly. “Though, obviously, I still shower my lovers with ridiculous amounts of gems and sapphires.”

Without waiting for further debate, the God of War readied his spear. He moved with lethal, predatory grace, his massive frame completely silent as he stalked the oblivious monster.

Closing the distance, Ares launched himself into the air and drove his spear violently into the thick column of the bull’s neck.

A deafening, agonized bellow ripped through the clearing. The beast staggered backward, thrashing wildly in a desperate bid to stay alive. But the strike was flawless—Ares’s spear had severed the main artery. Thick, dark blood erupted from the wound, painting the vibrant green grass a slick, shining crimson.

Snorting blood, the monster gathered its final ounce of strength and tried to bolt, the heavy spear still lodged deep in its flesh. Unfazed, Ares lunged directly into its path and delivered a bone-crushing punch straight to the beast's snout, halting it in its tracks.

The massive bull collapsed to the dirt with a ground-shaking thud. Wrapping a heavily muscled arm around its horns, Ares viciously yanked the creature's neck back and ripped his spear free, accelerating the blood loss. With a final, rattling exhale, the monster finally succumbed without putting up any further resistance.

“Look at that. The mighty God of War, slaughtering a grazing bull all by himself. Truly groundbreaking.” A slow, drippingly sarcastic round of applause echoed from the edge of the clearing.

It was Athena, the Goddess of Wisdom and Strategic Warfare. She was Ares’s eternal, bitter rival—the only other Olympian to hold absolute dominion over the mortal battlefields.

When humans faced the horrors of combat, they prayed to Ares for brute strength and raw courage. But they prayed to Athena for victory.

“This forest isn’t your territory, sister. What the hell are you doing here?” Ares snapped, his jaw ticking with irritation.

Like the rest of the pantheon, Athena was devastatingly beautiful. She possessed sharp, calculating features, flawless pale skin, and tight reddish curls. But unlike the other goddesses who draped themselves in luxurious silk gowns, Athena wore gleaming armor and a half-face war helmet. She looked every inch a lethal, untouchable Amazonian warrior.

“If it were me, I would have simply used a poison-tipped arrow and let the beast die a quiet, slow death,” Athena remarked, inspecting her immaculate fingernails.

“I’m not a coward who hides in the shadows, Athena,” Ares sneered. “I actually fight on the front lines.”

“You sound so emotional, brother. Are you still nursing a grudge from the Trojan War?” Athena purred, deliberately poking the bear. “Still upset about the time a mere mortal like Diomedes managed to wound you so severely?”

“A wound inflicted through your deceit and cowardly trickery doesn’t make me weak. I slaughtered Diomedes in a fair fight the second I recovered,” Ares fired back, refusing to let her condescension slide.

Thousands of years ago, the legendary war between Troy and Sparta had ripped the mortal world apart—the very same conflict immortalized in the bloody tales of *Helen of Troy*. In that epic clash, the Lord of Battle had heavily intervened, only to ultimately end up on the losing side, thanks entirely to Athena's meddling.

“What exactly is *fair* about that?” Athena challenged, a cold, mocking smile playing on her lips. “He was just a fragile human, and you are Ares, the almighty, immortal God of War. Honestly, aren’t you embarrassed?”

Ares inhaled sharply, grinding his teeth. He knew his sister all too well. She was a master manipulator, endlessly skilled at twisting facts and weaponizing logic to instantly sway an audience. No matter what truth he spoke, she would always find a way to make him look like a fool.

“Get out of here. I’m not in the mood to argue, and I don’t give a damn why you’re creeping around my forest. Leave before I make you leave,” Ares warned, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. The two gods had never actually fought each other in a direct, one-on-one duel, yet the entire pantheon quietly considered Athena the superior warrior. It was a simple, infuriating metric: whichever army the Goddess of Wisdom backed almost always won.

“Hermes mentioned that you’re suddenly planning to marry a mortal princess,” Athena said, finally dropping the banter. “And I’ve just learned that this particular girl happens to be a deeply devoted follower of mine. What exactly are you plotting, Ares?”

“None of your damn business,” Ares replied curtly, turning his back on her to watch his followers begin the messy work of beheading the monster bull.

“Are you trying to win Zeus’s favor?” Athena pressed, her eyes narrowing as she analyzed him. “Trying to finally make him like you?”

“Once again, keep out of my affairs, Athena.”

“I won’t let you win, Ares,” Athena promised, her voice dripping with absolute ice. “As long as I draw breath, you will remain the pathetic, brutish outcast that no one wants. And me? Well… you’ve heard the rumors, haven’t you? The people of Athens are currently erecting a statue of me the size of a mountain.”

Refusing to take the bait, Ares remained completely nonchalant. He walked away, not bothering to cast a single glance over his broad shoulder. He’d endured millennia of Athena’s arrogant intimidation tactics. He knew the rules of her game: the more he engaged, the more insufferable she became. The only way to win against the Goddess of Wisdom was to simply walk away.

Meanwhile, from the safety of the treeline, Alastair and I had accidentally witnessed the entire divine family reunion. We had just crossed into Olympus, entering Ares’s heavily guarded domain, when our carriage stumbled right onto the edge of their tense standoff, allowing us to overhear almost everything.

“I definitely didn't expect the legendary, ‘wise’ Athena to be such an absolute mean girl,” I whispered to Alastair, genuinely shocked by the venom I'd just heard.

“Ares and Athena have been bitter rivals since the dawn of time,” Alastair whispered back, his eyes glued to the scene. “She constantly tries to humiliate him and prove her intellectual superiority. Most of the time, Lord Ares simply refuses to play her games.”

I nodded slowly, the pieces clicking into place. I remembered this exact rivalry from the thick mythology scripts back in Hollywood. The ancient poets loved to pit them against each other: Ares, the unhinged villain bursting with wrath and fury, versus Athena, the flawless, wise savior. Ares, the god despised by all of Greece, and Athena, the golden child.

Clearly, the reality was way more complicated than the textbooks claimed. An unexpected, annoying flicker of pity sparked in my chest for the Lord of Battle. He seemed incredibly misunderstood. But I quickly clamped down on that emotion. His messy family drama was definitely not my business. Honestly, as I stared at his impossibly broad shoulders and lethal physique, I was just overwhelmingly grateful that the immortal god I was being forced to marry didn't look like some decrepit, wrinkled old man.

Even though I’d only caught a glimpse of him from behind, the raw, intimidating power radiating off him was undeniable. He was a terrifying, formidable warrior who clearly lived for the fight—but after witnessing him hold his temper against Athena's toxic baiting, I had a sneaking suspicion he wasn't the mindless, vicious villain the world made him out to be.

“Let us be on our way again, my lady. The Palace of Ares awaits,” Alastair murmured, motioning for the entourage to quietly resume our journey. We had deliberately halted our carriages in the shadows just to avoid interrupting the volatile clash of the Olympians, but now, it was finally time to meet my new husband face to face.

Chapter 6: Ares and His Bride

I was instantly captivated by the raw beauty of Ares’s Palace. The fortress was arguably much simpler than the opulent palace Portia had called home back in Sparta. There were no meticulously manicured hedge mazes or perfectly sculpted artistic fountains. Instead, Ares’s domain was nestled deep within a cool, secluded valley, where endless fields of wildflowers were left to grow wild and thrive in their natural state.

I watched swarms of fat bumblebees flitting through the vibrant blooms, lazily sipping nectar. Just beyond the main palace grounds, a natural waterfall cascaded over the rocks, its crystal-clear water flowing down at a gentle, soothing pace. The river it fed was shallow and rocky, and I could clearly see nymphs—ethereal, fairy-like creatures—laughing and splashing playfully in the sparkling water.

The high-altitude sunlight was incredibly bright, but the dense canopy of ancient trees acted as a natural filter, keeping the entire valley comfortably shaded. Looking further out, I spotted several massive, open dirt fields clearly designed for sword training and dueling. Right at that moment, dozens of Ares’s seasoned warriors were sparring. The harsh, rhythmic clanging of swords and spears echoed through the valley, yet somehow, it blended in perfect harmony with the peaceful gurgling of the river.

No mortals were allowed to freely roam the sacred peaks of Olympus. Ares’s followers and elite soldiers were exclusively fellow Titans, demigods, nymphs, centaurs, and satyrs. According to Alastair, I was the absolute only human to set foot on this holy ground in nearly two hundred years.

“What are you thinking about, Princess of Sparta?” Alastair asked, tilting his head curiously as he caught me craning my neck in every direction, a faint smile playing on my lips.

“Am I actually going to stay here?” I asked, a genuine glimmer of excitement slipping into my voice. This sunlit sanctuary was a far cry from the gloomy, blood-soaked dungeon I had imagined the God of War living in.

“Yes, Princess Portia. We have already prepared a room for you,” Alastair replied with a warm, accommodating smile.

Honestly, ever since I had begun this bizarre journey with Ares’s followers, I’d been constantly surprised by how genuinely friendly and kind they were. I had initially pictured the Lord of Battle’s minions as a horde of savage barbarians or crude, unwashed pirates.

But Alastair himself, despite being decked out in heavy battle armor and carrying lethal weapons, was impeccably groomed, his dark hair and beard neatly trimmed. The rest of the entourage was just as presentable. I didn’t even catch a hint of foul body odor off the half-goat satyrs.

“All the satyrs who serve Lord Ares are castrated. It is the only way they can focus and work properly,” Alastair had casually explained earlier. He was surprisingly patient, always willing to answer my endless barrage of questions.

He had gone on to explain that fully intact male satyrs possessed an aggressively high sex drive. They would relentlessly chase down nymphs—or any passing human woman—just to mate. Apparently, satyrs could literally smell when a woman was fertile.

I had felt my face burn with embarrassment hearing that, mostly because Alastair had discussed the intimate biology of a woman’s body with an absolutely deadpan, neutral expression. The demigod was an open book about everything—except Ares's personality. He firmly considered gossiping about his divine master without permission to be the height of disrespect.

“My Lady, they will escort you to your chambers now,” Alastair announced, bowing slightly. A group of nymphs instantly glided over to me. They were all breathtakingly beautiful, draped in gossamer-thin, incredibly revealing clothing.

I furrowed my brow. Maybe running around half-naked was totally normal in ancient Greece, but seeing it up close still made me slightly uncomfortable. My mind flashed back to a mythological text I’d read for a role years ago: the God of War had once taken a nymph to his bed, fathering a child. Surrounded by a literal army of flawless immortals dressed in basically nothing, how could Ares not be tempted? Even if they weren't human, they were still undeniably gorgeous women.

I vastly preferred my new bedchambers to the heavy stone room I’d been trapped in back at the Palace of Sparta. It was massive, airy, and flooded with warm, golden light. Being an actress from New York, I was practically dependent on central air conditioning; I’d barely slept a wink that first stifling night I woke up trapped in Portia’s body. But the second I sank onto the plush mattress of my new bed, a perfect, magically generated coolness washed over my skin.

I didn’t know how they did it, but it seemed the gods truly possessed technology light-years ahead of ordinary mortals. Yet, these divine beings flat-out refused to share a scrap of that knowledge with humanity. Once again, a dark myth from the history books drifted into my mind.

It was the tragic tale of Prometheus, the rebel Titan who dared to share the secret of fire with mankind. For his mercy, Zeus punished him by chaining him to a jagged mountain peak for eternity, where giant eagles violently tore out and feasted on his liver. The King of the Gods wouldn’t even grant him the peace of death; he magically healed the Titan's wounds the moment he reached the brink, only for the vicious cycle of torture to begin all over again the next day.

My morbid daydreaming was abruptly cut short when the nymphs acting as my handmaidens ushered me into the adjoining bathing chamber. Taking up the center of the room was a massive sunken tub that looked more like a luxurious mini swimming pool, already filled to the brim with steaming, perfumed water.

With gentle, efficient hands, they helped peel away the travel-stained silks clinging to Portia’s flawless body. The exhausting journey up the mountain had left my borrowed muscles feeling stiff, aching, and deeply sore.

“Oh, thank god…” I murmured happily as I finally sank into the scalding water, submerging myself up to the waist. Back when I was hustling as an A-list actress in New York, this kind of drawn-out luxury was practically impossible. My grueling daily shooting schedule meant I rarely got more than a hurried, five-minute hot shower. I literally had to fight my management for months in advance just to book a three-day spa retreat.

And despite the endless tabloid rumors claiming I was secretly dating various Hollywood heartthrobs, they were always exactly that—just rumors. Jill Adelaide simply didn't have the time or energy to date. But now? Now that I had woken up in this ancient, mythical reality as Portia, my entire existence seemed to consist of long baths, decadent body treatments, and mandatory spa sessions. Forget finding a decent boyfriend in the city—I was literally being forced to marry a god.

“Where is my wife?”

I violently jolted in the water, splashing bubbles everywhere. Right in the middle of my peaceful daydream, a deep, booming male voice echoed through the chamber.

*It’s Ares! What the hell is he doing barging into an unmarried girl’s private bath?!* I screamed in absolute, frantic panic inside my head.

I snapped my head toward the nymphs tending to me, but their beautiful faces remained completely blank and serene. None of them made even the slightest move to stop the Lord of Battle from storming into my private quarters.

Pure reflex took over. I scrambled backward, sinking my entire body down into the water until it reached my chin, right as the heavy wooden doors to the bathing chamber swung wide open.

“Princess of Sparta. At last, we meet,” Ares greeted cheerfully, strolling into the steamy room without a single care in the world.

I completely froze, my jaw practically hitting the water. I couldn't believe this was happening. My heart hammered against my ribs; I was absolutely not mentally prepared to face the God of War while naked in a bathtub.

“Wh—what are you doing in here? We’re—we’re not even married yet!” I squeaked, my voice cracking in panic as I crossed my arms tightly over my chest beneath the water, desperately trying to shield Portia’s bare curves from his gaze.

“Huh?” Ares paused, tilting his head with a look of genuine confusion. “We are already husband and wife. The exact moment your father accepted my wedding gifts, you officially became mine.”

My mind raced, frantically trying to process ancient marital law. We hadn't even had a ceremony, let alone a reception! Then it hit me: Ares was an immortal deity. He probably skipped all the mortal pageantry just to keep his contact with humans to an absolute minimum. A transaction of gold was all it took.

I squeezed my eyes shut, completely unable to lift my head and look him in the eye. I was too utterly flustered and burning with embarrassment. If ancient law dictated we were married, that meant this towering, lethal god had every legal right to barge into my bath. Technically, Portia was already his property. I just prayed Ares would get bored and leave so I could finally get out of this water and put some clothes on.

“Why is your face turning so bright red?” Ares asked, stepping closer to the edge of the pool. “Is the water too hot? Tell the nymphs to fix it. Or, if you prefer, I can simply kill them if they’re making you uncomfortable.” He offered the casual threat of murder without a single ounce of guilt.

“No! God, no!” I gasped, horrified. “I’m just... embarrassed that you barged in so suddenly! Please, just... step outside for a moment. Give me a chance to get dressed properly before I formally greet you,” I pleaded, staring fiercely at the ripples in the water, not daring to look up at his face even though I could feel his massive presence looming right over the edge of the tub.

Ares let out a deep, booming laugh that vibrated through my chest.

“So, you are merely embarrassed?” he chuckled, the rich sound dripping with dark amusement. “Then by all means, little mortal, enjoy that embarrassment. You are going to be staying here for a very, very long time, and you will simply have to get used to me. I intend to teach you many things, Portia... *many* things.”

He was deliberately teasing me, and the sensual, mocking promise in his raspy voice made my cheeks burn so hot they felt like they were going to melt off my skull.