All in One Brood

She rested on his luxurious pillow, embroidered with florals that suited her. Her face was pale but she was glowing. She slept like she had never slept before—it was deep and dreams came like a reality to which time itself went on a limbo around it. She had become peaceful, quite the opposite of how he initially noted her.

Ares's smile could not be contained. He was a joyous deity, a god ever grateful to such news that came. Finally, war and wisdom were no longer foes but one string through and through. He never left her side though it seemed like a bore to anyone else. 

Why be bored when his seed, at last, was sprouting in her womb? A husband should never be jaded to such responsibility even though it was just the beginning. 

He washed her while she continued to doze off, he even let no one but him change her garments as he kept his promise to never the old Ares hindered his spousal duties. "Before, Ares was just an infatuated flirt who wanted nothing more than someone to be with him in bed. I was delighted when my children were born but never dared to act as I obeyed the laws that bind with my divinity. Now, I wanted it to be different."

Words from his lips were grand vows worthy of being inscribed on golden tablets, but like every mortal man who roamed the earth, a woman in her natural form was his weakness. Her skin was flawless, free from distortion and scars he honestly anticipated since his beloved Owl suffered greatly from him and the other deities' stubbornness and wrath. Athena's skin was lovely like milk as if untouched by envious souls. 

With his parched desire, Ares kissed her stomach where the womb was and kissed it more until she floundered a little in protest. He thanked the spirit of the dead gods for at least showing him mercy—for giving him the chance to become a father once more. In the same silence, he also thanked Athena, because never he had dreamed that his greatest foe, the source of all his jealousy, had become his beloved confidant now that she was to be the mother of his child. He feared, right after that lustful night he orchestrated, that if his seed had become fruitful, Athena might terminate it without even him knowing. But his fear was repressed, with his gaze softened as he looked at her sleeping form. His heart and mind praised her for the dignity and openness she had blessed him despite the offences he committed and even the atrocity, which mankind will never forget when he overthrew the golden age of the Olympians. Perhaps, Athena was still not on better terms with his recent betrayal of their lineage, but gradually—hoping against hope—she would soon understand his purpose though half of it did not mean full destruction. Yet again, blaming could no longer bring back what happened. 

The god of war promised never to let his heir experience what he went through when he was young. His youth was already full of violence as he was forced to grow up and be the god Zeus had always wanted him to be. Then there was his mother, though Hera did not deserve such a sentimental title, who wanted nothing but to see me in full glory despite the feebleness suppressed that slowly nibbled on his spirit. While slowly putting on Athena some garments, he mumbled promises, declaring that their child would never experience the foul upbringing imposed by those who had come before their pantheon. Somewhat, as his mind lingered on the future of their child, he could not help but feel pity with his younger self as he remembered all of the pain forced upon him. 

"I promise you, Athena, that our little one will no longer bear the burdens of the past." He then settled her with a warm blanket and kissed her forehead affectionately. 

"Do you always do this?" All of a sudden, as he left her side to cross over to the opposite side of the bed, Athena sleepily mumbled. "Ares—do you always do this secret engagement when I am in my dream?" 

He chuckled. "What do you mean?"

"I can always smell your breath when my dreams fully unravelled to their culmination."

"Can I at least get a thank you for the kisses? I did not know you knew." 

"I doubt at first it was a kiss. But the more I dream every night in my little corner, your breath penetrated through." She mocked as she shared her perspective with him. 

Ares knew this was another turning point for them to argue but he had a better counter. "From all those nights, I snuck some kisses on your forehead, you did not even bother to stop me. Why is that so, Athena? Care to explain your laziness?"

As he what he had hoped for, the silver-eyed beauty did not respond to rebuke his inquiry. Instead, she closed her eyes and pretended to slumber, eager to silence his incoming tease that would certainly pound in her brain. 

"Did some phenomenon take your tongue out, Athena? I see what you did there. I know you are not immediately drifting back to your dream."

"Oh, be quiet you, beast! Let me sleep. Well, would it be wise if I banter more with you?"

The god laughed like he had never laughed before, finding her antics too silly to be true. "No, it won't. Sleep well, woman. You need it."

***

He could hear the crickets now. 

Their song echoed throughout the walls of his study, making it hard to ignore them. The god of war could not focus on his work, having his head balanced on the nuisance and Athena's well-being since she never left the suite to eat. 

Written on his newly received scroll were messages from Pantelis, reporting the finds they had obtained. Upon scanning the list, his amber eyes suddenly lit from that one thing saved from Olympus's carnage. 

"She will love this surprise." He told himself, grinning like tomorrow will never come. 

After finalising some work, Ares retired back to his suite, admitting that he was more eager to see Athena rather than slumber as the evening progressed. However, instead of seeing a sleeping Athena, she was sitting on the edge of the bed somewhat contemplating something. 

"Are you alright? Do you feel sick?" Ares mildly asked as he closed the door behind him. 

Athena shrugged, not parting her lips to say definite words that bothered her. 

Worried he went to her, kneeled before her with his hands on hers, and asked one more, "What is it? Do you need to eat?"

"No. I'm—I just do not understand what I'm feeling." Her voice cracked as her eyes lost the courage to look at him. "It has been like a day or two since I felt this. I really cannot fathom this sensation."

"Well, having a child growing inside you changes your body. I have seen it with Aphrodite. She never talked to me until Eros was born. Even with our other children, I was banished not to see her until all of them were born. Eileithyia told me that once a woman was made aware of the conception, her spirit changed—carrying the heavy weight of balancing her sanity and the welfare of the growing infant. I hope Liene can explain it to you soon."

Athena continued to stare at the mosaiced floor that twinkled amidst the dullness of their lamp. she pouted at her unanswered frustration all the while battling her unknown discomfort that was wriggling on her very insides. 

"I do not understand, Ares." She finally gazed into those amber eyes that never shy away from displaying such fret. "It is bothering me so much. Oh, words could not even decipher it! I—feel ashamed. I feel embarrassed. It is like an urge that I—" 

Both eyes were locked into each other, somehow battling for dominance though the war already ceased. Despite her sentiments never concluded, Ares already understood what her body was trying to scream. 

Without a word, he guided her back into the bed—gently moving her a little bit more as he lay beside her. As she turned away, he affectionately massaged her back, starting from her shoulders and down until his hands reached her hips and enveloped her in an embrace. 

She made no fuss with his action—a surprising response knowing what he was doing was unacceptable since her entire immortal life was solely devoted to keeping her chaste. But at that moment, change was unfolding. 

His hands traversed to her stomach, positioning it to where the womb would be—gently caressing it to calm her quivering nerves that he sensed. He whispered old tongues to her, praying for the safety of their growing child. Ares knew not what Athena might feel, but he no longer bothered. He knew that his intention was for goodwill and letting no doubts enter his now peaceful thoughts. With her neck exposed, he planted a trail of soft kisses—savouring her scent and how her skin smoothly glided on his lips. Athena could not further exclaim as her surprise made her petrified like a wooden doll. His hot breath lingered on her like a flame tempting a moth. His breathing was blaring, drowning all the other cacophony of the night and the outside world. And those wet trails left by his affection were starting to poison her—alluding to prurient ideas she was silently suppressing. 

Her mouth trembled as his touch grew more and more ravenous. There were his kisses that morphed into bites and his legs suddenly enclosed hers, averting her to move freely. Athena was losing her might while Ares lost control of his appetite for her. 

"Do you still hate me, Athena?" He lowly wondered after leaving love marks on her shoulder. 

The shenanigans of the evening had become a blur ambience. The room seemed empty, quite deserted with the walls fading with the obscure moonless hour. For every touch he bestowed on her, she momentarily became apprehensive but came into ease as she suddenly felt the cool air and solitude brought by the humble light of the twinkling stars. Then there was her smile—her rosy lips that curved into a crescent as she willingly submitted to the overpowering will of her better half. 

"No." Silver-eyed finally answered the god of war's query, dismissing his brewing anxiety and permitting his lustful desire to pursue with his hand now beginning to cup one of her breasts. 

With this newfound confidence, Ares pressed his face onto her nape with his breathing even hotter and more taunting compared to seconds before. He was ravaging all of her, taking in all of her essence like a wolf drinking the blood of his carcass. Yet, instead of receiving an angry response from the former goddess, Athena laid serenely under his embrace and let him all be with what he was doing. 

Satisfied with her bosom after she let out a faint moan, the god's hands that usually yielded the mighty sword now journeyed downwards, finding her lower part as he rolled up her flowing dress, revealing her milky legs that remained besieged by his strong calves. The feel of her skin was a sensation best equated to drunkenness under the wine of Dionysus. 

As soon as those fine juices mingled with the blood and the mind, autonomy to one's logic had become obsolete. Thus, such an impression best describes what Ares felt at that very moment.

Fully immersed and blinded by the might of passion, the night was filled with unsaid words and suppressed feelings, that burrowed its way upwards towards the surface. 

Enemies were never meant to be entwined in each other's arms. Swords and spears should have been on their hands, with heavy gold breastplates to cover their chests, and helmets that carried their enigma of gallantry and sovereignty—

But why was the personification of war and wisdom—complete opposites—no longer carried smite towards each other and had become one in a large bed ornate with follies of love and matrimony? 

Truly, their vows of vengeance against each other were now a legend of the dead past as pleasure ravelled all through their veins with the god on top of the woman, holding her down with delight as they sealed their union—once again closing in with a peak. 

Warm breaths and sleepy eyes, 

The restless nuance of the night with stars glittering hastily on the skies, 

There goes the chorus of sex echoing in hush like a murmur or tingling sounds of droplets inside a cave. The two were careful, trying to be sensitive to one another for every touch and kisses were like fire—burning deep into their skins with no resolution for a cure except that both needs were satisfied. 

When all the lust subsided and the night hour deepened, Athena stared at the sleeping Ares, questioning how they ended up in their current predicament. She noted every line on his face, his sharpness and the peaceful way he slumbered whether or not it was a first or one of many after amorous rendezvous. 

Yet, in an unorthodox event, it was now she who planted a kiss on his forehead—humbling all those years her lips said hurtful banters against him. "I guess this is who we are now huh?" She whispered near his face, with silver orbs glued into the god's serene features.