Ares

Chapter eight: Ares's Return

Ares

In a blink, I was back in the human realm. Olympus felt like a distant memory now, just a flicker in the vast tapestry of time. What felt like only five minutes spent among the gods had translated to several days in this world. It always amazed me how time bent and twisted, revealing the inherent absurdity of mortal existence.

I materialized in my favorite spot-Elara's bed. The scent of her presence lingered in the air, a mixture of lavender and something uniquely her. She had a way of filling her space with warmth, a comforting touch that contrasted sharply with the cold, clinical environment of Olympus. I plopped down onto the soft mattress, allowing the plushness to swallow me whole.

Glancing around her room, I noticed the haphazard pile of books strewn across her desk, but one stood out in particular: a romance novel that claimed to tell the true stories of Greek mythology. The title read "Hearts of the Gods," and I couldn't help but scoff at the absurdity of it all. Did they really think it was that simple? Love? A whimsical tale for mortals to dream about?

I picked up the book, flipping through its pages, my mind racing back to the advice the other gods had given me.

"Make her feel special," they had said. "Show her your softer side."

What a joke. Being kind and caring felt utterly unnatural to me. I was the God of War, for gods' sake, not some lovesick mortal. I thrived in chaos, in battle, where emotions were raw and unfiltered. I was unyielding, forged from steel and blood. So why did the thought of winning Elara's heart spark something within me that felt-dare I say it-intriguing?

As I lay back against her pillows, I tried to channel my thoughts into a plan. I could see it now: I'd charm her, sweep her off her feet, and let her feel the depth of my existence. But each time I envisioned that scenario, my confidence faltered.

"Just be yourself," they had insisted. But who was I? Did they expect me to shed my armor and prance about like a fool in love? It seemed absurd.

I raked my fingers through my blonde hair, exhaling slowly. I needed to remind myself that I was doing this for a purpose, that there was a grand design at play. The trial was not just about love; it was about proving that we, the Olympians, could still connect with mortals in a meaningful way.

But even as I thought this, the nagging voice in the back of my mind questioned whether I could truly give Elara what she deserved. What if my true self was too abrasive for her to accept?

Before I could spiral further into self-doubt, I heard a soft sound from outside her door. My instincts kicked in, and I sat up, focusing on the source of the noise. I didn't want to be caught lounging on her bed like some lazy mortal. I had an image to uphold, after all.

With a flicker of my wrist, I vanished from her bed just as the door creaked open, revealing Elara.

She stepped inside, a look of surprise washing over her face as she surveyed the room. "What the...?" she muttered, her eyes darting around as if expecting to find me lurking somewhere else.

I watched her as she moved through the room, her long chestnut hair falling over her shoulders in gentle waves. She looked so... ordinary, yet captivating. I couldn't help but admire the way she carried herself, her freckled skin glowing under the soft light filtering through the window.

She approached her desk and paused, her brows knitting together in confusion as she picked up the book I had discarded. "Why is this here?" she wondered aloud, glancing around as if she might catch me lingering nearby.

For a moment, I debated revealing myself, stepping into the light and playing the role of a charming mortal named Aaron. Instead, I chose to stay hidden, simply watching her as she rifled through her belongings.

"Am I really that transparent?" she asked herself, a soft laugh escaping her lips as she shook her head. "Maybe I do need a new hobby."

I was struck by how endearing she was, even in her self-deprecation. A part of me wanted to step out and assure her that she was anything but transparent, that her complexities were what drew me in. But I held back, aware that this was all a game-a dance of fate that I had yet to master.

When she finally settled onto her bed, I felt a jolt of energy coursing through me. Perhaps I could try out one of those kindness exercises the other gods had suggested. I could ask her about her day, express genuine interest in her thoughts, and for once, not be the God of War but a humble mortal who simply cared.

"Why not just be yourself?" the voice echoed in my head again, but the notion seemed increasingly absurd.

Before I could continue my internal debate, Elara sighed heavily, her gaze drifting to the ceiling. "I can't believe I'm really doing this," she murmured, her words barely reaching my ears. "Praying for a true love? That's just ridiculous."

I felt a pang in my chest at her words. Was that truly how she felt? I had been sent to help her discover love, and here she was doubting the very notion.