Aphrodite's Flame

2.

My story was never intended to be a sweet, happy story. Everyone desires Love and Love-Making, but only I get to say when and if. Many have worshipped and adored and lain with me - but thrice as many have been rejected. I don't like the easy or the begging, neither do I like the cruel or those that never knew the meaning of the word no.

I walk down the path toward the palace, away from Ares. Artemis is special to me. Maybe it's because of the way she is both strong and gentle, maybe it's because of how her humor matches mine. Maybe it's because of her interpretation of Love. She took a vow to never marry and to never have children, whereas I have - well - let's just say I have a couple. She has loved a man once, but only once. However, it is not my tale to tell, so I shan't dwell on it.

'I was wondering when you'd show up,' I say happily, linking my arm through hers. She looks tired. Apollo and Artemis haven't spoken in months. I know she wants to bury the hatchet, but she also wants to show her brother what hurt and betrayal are like. I'm not sure whether he understands that. I never really appreciated Apollo anyway. All my love for Leto's children goes out to his sister.

'Autumn started yesterday,' she says. 'Persephone went back to Hades' lair. I wanted to say goodbye to her first.' I force a smile, repressing my jealousy. I don't dislike Persephone at all, I admire her resoluteness and directness. But I also don't like her. She has a compelling nature that revolts me. I was the goddess who walked the Earth and flowers would grow in my track. I was the goddess of Spring and beauty - until that wretched girl came along.

'Are you coming to the celebration?' I ask my favourite friend.

'When?'

I raise an eyebrow. 'Tomorrow night. It's been the talk of the town for ages. They say a hero is born.' She looks at me incredulously.

'Of whom? Poseidon? Or, let me guess; Zeus again?' I nod, unable to contain my enthusiasm. It's not every new moon a hero is born amidst the puny mortals Below. Although many tales have been told about them, they are indeed a rarity amongst mortals, but I guess the boring lives of boring mortals equal boring stories.

'So? Are you coming? You can't possibly let me go all alone! I have a gown for you, as silver as the moonlight you adore so much.' She rests her hand on my lower arm.

'Haven't you and Ares made up? It's been almost thirty years.' I know that, but what are thirty years to an immortal? It's like the time a mortal needs to brush their teeth. I purse my lips.

'Haven't you and Apollo made up yet?' She averts her face and lets go of my arm. Sure, it isn't thirty years yet, but Leto's children used to be inseparable for thousands of years. She doesn't want to talk about it and we leave each other be.

Thirty years is a long time to think things over. When the Trojan war broke out the field was still clearly laid out. Everyone knew exactly where everyone else was standing and what they were standing for. Helena fell in love with Paris, who took her away from Menelaos. Hera and Athena, those unreasonably jealous bitches, took sides with the damn Greeks and I called out to Ares - what is Love to do in a War? Against two goddesses of Power and War?! Sure, Apollo was on my side but he is no good. Ares came and at first he clearly was on my side. I really thought the Trojans could win this war - that I could win this war, but after some time Ares wasn't so much on my side anymore. After ten years of war he forgot what I actually wanted him to do out there. Ares is the god of War, but not like Pallas Athena, who is the goddess of Strategic War. There's nothing strategic about Ares' warfare. It is rough, chaotic, impulsive, wild and passionate. Just like his love.

And so we lost.