Kassus still could not get used to the sight of a goddess sleeping under his roof, on the bed he made with the help of his blood, sweat and the finest goose feathers. She was eating his harvest, drinking his wine, and the worst part was that he never stopped her from doing so. There was something in the way she acted, in the words she spoke that made him feel like she was not a threat. Fortunately for him, her stay was not going to last long. Or at least that is what Kassus hoped with all his heart.
The sun arose slowly, the darkness in the sky slowly taking a mix of blue and pink color while the divine chariot of the Sun God raced all over the clouds. A rooster's song made Aphrodite stir up from the blankets, and with a sigh and a yawn of comfort, she sat up in bed. To her, waking up every day in a comfortable wooden shack was not the worst thing in the world, but seeing the same man every morning on the ground with just a cloak and a thin blanket to cushion his sleep was starting to break her heart. She knew Kassus had the biggest of hearts, even if it was covered with an invisible shield he had set on himself. Aphrodite always wondered silently why would he act that way, what broke his heart that much that he never wants to open it again. She could not blame him, though. Her heart had been broken too in the past.
"Kassus?" She whispered quietly, as she creeped her head slightly out of the bed to look down at the man on the floor. "Wake up, sweetie."
The pet name made the warrior's eyes open abruptly.
"Do not call me that." He replied flatly, as he sat up and leaned his back against the wall, making some cracking noises come out of his back before he continued. "You must have a good reason to wake me up."
"Of course I do." She said, placing a hand on her chest, almost as if she was feigning offense to his comment. "You said your... people needed help decorating Rhodes for the Sun God's festival."
Kassus rolled his eyes. Of course, he had set that condition. Of course he wanted a goddess to get involved with the poor citizens of Rhodes. Of course, he had chosen willingly to let her live with him just because she was too stubborn to show her face in Olympus. He did not stop the way his palm hit his own face, a beautiful reminder of his wrong choices in life. With a reluctant sigh, he got up and finished stretching his stiff limbs that felt quite numb after sleeping on the floor. Once he was done, he started to walk outside, causing Aphrodite to raise an eyebrow.
"Where are you going?" She asked,pulling out the blankets off her body, and getting out of bed, ready to follow Kassus.
"I am going to get our breakfast. You stay here." He replied, before he turned around and stopped Aphrodite with only a glance of irritation. "Do not follow me. Just make sure no one sees you, you are too dazzling to look mortal."
Aphrodite's initial confusion slowly turned into mild amusement while she watched the hunter leave the shack. She blinked, trying to understand and process the fact that the tough and angry warrior just complimented her —at least, that is what she believed it was—. Her pale cheeks turned slightly pink at the thought of receiving a compliment from a man probably forgot how smiling felt like.
She took a moment to look down at her attire and at her hands. Maybe Kassus was right, even if she loved how beautiful she was, she looked like the goddess she was, and that would make the Rhodians feel scared that their champion, their God Hunter had a goddess living under his roof, alive and quite spoiled by the man. She had to do something about it. She clapped her hands twice, activating her divine abilities to change her attire from a perfect and transparent, silk dress to a simple, light brown chiton. She made her skin glow a little less, and in order to look less god-like, she took her precious time to braid some strands of her hair, letting the rest of it loose. Just as she finished to do her hair, Kassus walked inside the shack, confused to see Aphrodite wearing simple clothes, but he did not found it wrong.
"You look..."
"Mortal?" Aphrodite asked, as she posed a little bit for the man to admire, with a sweet smile of hers. "This way no one will question you for letting me live here. I even made up a good story."
Kassus raised an eyebrow in response, silently asking what kind of story did she come up with. Aphrodite giggled softly and spoke.
"I'm your wife Daphne, and no one has seen me before because I was sick. Does that work?"
Kassus' eyes widened in surprise and instant rejection. He shook his head, barely believing what was going to happen. He had to fake a whole love story with Aphrodite, and even worse, he had to play along in order to keep both hers and his own integrities safe.
After breakfast, the new couple headed to the town center. It was alive with motion —hanging garlands of woven sea-grass and cloth banners flapping above the dusty street, while market stalls overflowed with fruit, honeyed pastries, and wooden trinkets painted gold for the Sun God's festival. Children chasing each other with little olive branches, their laughter bouncing off the stone. Kassus walked like a man heading to war. Every step down the street tightened the invisible chain around his chest. And next to him? Daphne.
Aphrodite, goddess of love, was smiling at everyone like she belonged —and worse, everyone smiled back. She had even convinced someone to give her a flower crown, which she now wore like it had not been made from weeds and backyard daisies.
"Morning, Kassus!" a fishmonger called. "You finally brought your wife to town?"
Kassus could not respond. He just kept walking, his jaw more tense than a thread of life.
"She's lovely." someone else added —an older woman sweeping the steps of her shop. "No wonder you kept her hidden. What was it, a fever? Poor thing."
Aphrodite placed a hand delicately over her heart and gave a weak little nod. "Yes... dreadful, but I'm feeling so much better now. Thank you."
A chorus of "thank the Gods!" rippled through the crowd, which nearly made Kassus choke. Before he could escape, a young woman —wide-eyed, energetic, and very familiar— came skipping up with a basket of fresh herbs.
"Kassus!"
He turned around. Of course. Daphne —the real one, daughter of the town healer, local loudmouth, and very much not his fake wife.
"This is so weird!" she said, beaming. "You're married to someone with my name? And you never told me?" She eyed Aphrodite up and down. "Wow. I mean, I always knew you were secretive, but this secret?"
Kassus opened his mouth. No words came out. Aphrodite stepped in seamlessly, looping her arm through his and pressing her cheek against his bicep like she belonged there.
"Oh, you're the other Daphne he mentioned." Aphrodite said with a radiant grin. "He told me so much about you. You helped nurse his wounds after that fight with the sea monster, right?"
The girl blinked. "Uh... yeah."
"How sweet of you," Aphrodite continued, tilting her head to press her cheek slightly closer to Kassus' bicep, clearly enjoying how strong he was. "He was in such pain. You must've seen a lot of his body back then."
Kassus gave her a side glare that could have turned statues to dust. She just smiled innocently, as if she had not just torpedoed his entire stoic reputation.
Daphne blushed furiously. "Oh! I didn't mean— I just— herbs! These are for your shoulder!" She shoved the bundle into his chest and then ran off in a storm of embarrassed apologies.
Kassus exhaled, long and slow. "You are enjoying this."
"Terribly." She gave him a wink. "You should've warned me how fun being mortal can be."
He looked away, trying not to let the corner of his mouth twitch upward. This was going to be a long, yet interesting week for him.
— — — — — — — — — — — — —
On day two of Aphrodite's stay in Rhodes, Kassus decided to bring her along to a mission he had. Aphrodite was quite curious and terrified, wondering if it would involve killing a monster or fighting a demigod. But she let out a sigh of relief when she found herself and the man next to her walking deep into Rhodes instead of the forest.
Kassus did not explain further, either. Just turned around a corner into a small courtyard where a young boy sat swinging his legs on a crumbled step, cradling a clay water jug in his arms. His home was modest. It seemed made of cracked stone and a roof so uneven it looked like it might tumble down during the next strong wind.
The boy's eyes lit up when he saw Kassus. "You came! Mama said you were busy killing bad things."
"Not today." Kassus ruffled the boy's curls as he passed and looked up at the house. "Your roof is still leaking?"
"Yes, sir. The rain keeps dripping into the cooking pot."
"Let me take care of it."
The boy's grin widened as he handed over a rusted chisel and waved toward the ladder propped against the wall. Aphrodite, standing beside the courtyard's fig tree, blinked in slow confusion.
"You were summoned to repair a roof?"
Kassus had already begun climbing. "He asked. I said yes."
Once on top, the full damage became clear —warped wood beams, tiles cracked like old tortoise shells, some missing entirely. He crouched down, starting the slow, deliberate work of pulling loose pieces and aligning the ones still usable. Below, the boy gave pointers like a seasoned craftsman.
"That one's crooked!" he called.
Kassus grunted. "So is your house."
A voice laughed from the street. A soft, familiar one. Aphrodite stepped through the courtyard gate holding a clay pitcher, now filled with fresh water. Her simple chiton fluttered in the sea breeze, hair still braided from yesterday's effort to look mortal.
"Gods help us." She called up teasingly. "You're going to break your neck trying to play builder."
Kassus glanced down at her, sweat clinging to his brow.
"You live on Olympus." he muttered, half-distracted. "Your expertise on architecture is supposed to help me instead of irritate me."
She smirked. "Darling, I inspired the architects. I didn't hammer stones with them."
Kassus snorted, almost a laugh. He climbed down with a quiet huff and took the pitcher. The water was cold, and he drank deep. She watched him in silence, and when he lowered the pitcher, their eyes met. No divinity. No threat. Just sunburnt hands, tired shoulders, and something that felt... simple.
"You don't smile much." she said after a moment, her tone gentler than before.
"Not much to smile about."
Aphrodite tilted her head slightly, voice softening like sea foam against rock. "Then maybe you've been looking in the wrong places."
— — — — — — — — — — — — —
On day three of Aphrodite's stay in Rhodes, Kassus brought her to the market. He had not intended to. He only wanted figs. But she caught up to him halfway down the hill, claiming she needed "fresh air" and "mortal inspiration." He did not argue, though he grumbled something about crowds and getting seen. Aphrodite, in her soft brown chiton and braided hair, looked the part of any woman from the island; at least until she smiled. Then the light caught her in ways no mortal ever earned.
The agora was bustling. Stallkeepers called over the din of chatter, peddling garlic ropes, fish, and hand-carved trinkets. The smell of salted olives hung in the air. Kassus drifted near the fig cart. Aphrodite, of course, wandered. She stopped near a stall with baskets of dyed cloth, her eyes drawn to a young woman holding two bolts of fabric —one pale blue like a winter sky, the other a deep, wedding-day red. The woman looked overwhelmed.
"I don't know." She whispered to herself. "He likes the red, but blue was the color of our wedding day..."
"Then take both." Aphrodite said from beside her, crouched with the ease of someone born for grace. "Wrap the red around your shoulders, and let the blue trail behind you like a memory. It's not about choosing. It's about weaving the story and embracing it."
The woman blinked, wide-eyed at the stranger, then slowly smiled as though a weight had been lifted. She reached into her basket and pulled out a small daisy. Sun-bleached, a nothing-flower for the Gods. She tucked it behind Aphrodite's ear with shy fingers.
"For luck." she said.
Aphrodite touched the flower, surprised but she did not remove it off her hair. Kassus had watched the whole exchange from a few paces away, pretending to inspect the figs. He saw the way Aphrodite accepted the flower without mockery, the way she smiled— not like a goddess among mortals, but like someone who belonged here. And the strangest thing was that she did not seem to be pretending.
When she turned to rejoin him, he muttered. "You were not supposed to talk to people."
"They talked first." Aphrodite said with a playful shrug.
He glanced at the flower in her hair. "You know you look like you belong here."
Aphrodite looked at him, almost serious for a moment. "Maybe I do."
— — — — — — — — — — — — —
On day four of Aphrodite's stay in Rhodes, Kassus left before the sun rose. He did not tell her where he was going, instead he just muttered something about needing to clear his head and slipped out while the stars were still faintly clinging to the sky. She let him go. At first. But something about the way he avoided her gaze, the stiffness in his voice, the clenched jaw... it made her follow him. Not out of defiance, but out of concern.
She kept her distance, weaving through olive trees and down the winding footpaths that led away from the town's heart. Rhodes was waking slowly —fishermen casting nets, women lighting fires. But Kassus walked away from it all, toward a quiet bluff overlooking the sea. That is where she saw him stop. Two headstones sat nestled beneath an olive tree, simple and worn by time. One had a carving of a laurel wreath. The other had none. Kassus knelt in front of them, one hand resting on each stone, his head bowed low. No prayers. No tears. Just silence so heavy, Aphrodite felt it in her ribs.
She did not mean to step on a twig. But she did. Kassus turned fast —startled, guarded— until he saw her. His face shifted. Not angry. Just tired.
"You followed me." He said.
Aphrodite could not deny it. "I didn't know you had family buried here."
He looked back at the graves. "My mother. And..." He paused. "Someone else."
She stepped closer, slowly, sensing the line she was about to cross. "Do you come here often?"
"Every time I forget why I hate the gods..." he said flatly. "They remind me."
Aphrodite lowered her gaze. She did not ask what happened. Instead, she knelt beside him, hands folded in her lap, quiet as the wind that moved through the fig leaves.
"You always look like stone." she murmured after a while. "But I think you're more like clay. Hardened, yes. But shaped by everything you've survived."
Kassus was silent, but he did not move away either. And when he finally stood to leave, he glanced back once, just to see if she was still there.
"Let us go back home." He whispered, his wary expression turning into a hint of a smile full of gratitude for her company.
— — — — — — — — — — — — —
On day five of Aphrodite's stay in Rhodes, the festival was almost ready. They spent hours among garlands and torches, helping the townspeople hang laurel branches from every doorway and oiling wooden beams for the dance platform. Kassus worked with the focus of a soldier; Aphrodite on the other hand, with the ease of someone who once inspired celebration itself. The children followed her like bees to honey. Old women complimented her braids. Even the goats seemed more obedient in her presence.
By the time the sun began its slow descent toward the horizon, Kassus had a rare thing in his hands: a laugh. Just a short one. A breath through the nose. But Aphrodite caught it like it was a butterfly, and stored it somewhere private in her heart. Later, they sat on the edge of the crumbling town wall, legs swinging over the sea cliffs. Between them was a shared plate: olives, garlic, a few slices of bread, and a pomegranate Kassus had wordlessly cut in half. The waves below caught the dying light and shattered it into golden pieces.
Aphrodite bit into a fig and let out a low hum. "You know, back in the old days, they used to burn honey for me. Pour it into marble basins. Call it worship."
Kassus took a bite of bread, his eyes on the sunset ahead. "And did you ever taste any of it?"
She shook her head. "Never. Gods don't eat offerings. We devour devotion." She paused, running a thumb over the fig's skin. "But this—" she gestured at the humble meal, at the sea, at him — "this feels real."
Kassus did not answer. His gaze was fixed on the horizon, where the sun bled into the sea like a wound.
"You still don't trust me." She said quietly.
"I do not even trust myself." He replied.
The silence that followed was not sharp anymore. It was slow and weighty, like something neither of them knew how to hold yet. But then Aphrodite reached across the plate —not to touch him, but just to slide a small fig onto his side. It was an offering. He took it directly from her hands.
— — — — — — — — — — — — —
On day six of Aphrodite's stay in Rhodes, the festival was only a day away, and Aphrodite had decided Kassus could not attend looking like a sleep-deprived forest spirit.
"You look like you've been living under a rock." She said, arms crossed and eyeing him critically from across the cramped shack. "And not in a charming, rugged way."
Kassus glanced up from the stool he was sitting on, one eyebrow raised. "I have been living under a roof made of driftwood and sea salt. That is close enough."
She stepped closer, her hands on her hips. "Your beard is too long for your age."
He blinked, genuinely surprised. "Is it?"
"How old are you again?" she asked, crouching slightly to get a better look at his face.
Kassus tilted his head, frowning a little. "Twenty-nine... I believe."
"You believe?"
He shrugged. "My father was not much for birthdays."
Aphrodite clicked her tongue and walked to the small shelf where a copper bowl and a dull blade sat unused. She poured water into the bowl, then dipped a cloth in it before wringing it out.
"Well, if we're going to make you look your age, we've got work to do." Aphrodite said with her voice full of mischief and entirely too much enthusiasm.
"Wait—what are you—?"
"Sit still." She ordered, stepping between his legs and dabbing the warm cloth along his jaw. Kassus flinched slightly, but she did not let him pull away. Her touch was careful, practiced, almost reverent.
"I could do this myself." He muttered, his voice muffled from the cloth on his face.
"You had decades to do it yourself." She countered. "And look what you did."
With a smirk tugging at her lips, she picked up the blade and carefully began trimming the thick beard down to something shorter, neater. Her fingers grazed his skin. Kassus did not move, except for the twitch of his jaw every time her breath hit his cheek.
"You have a good face." she said after a moment, almost to herself. "Sharp. Tired. But good."
"You are enjoying this." He grumbled.
"I enjoy many things." she replied with a sly smile. "Right now, it's the rare pleasure of watching a stubborn man look slightly less like a wild animal and more like the handsome mortal he is."
By the time she was done, his face was transformed —still rugged, still unmistakably Kassus, but with just a shadow of stubble softening his jawline. It made him look younger. Like the years had not swallowed him whole. As if for once he had known something other than war.
"There!" She said, stepping back to admire her work. "Now you look twenty-seven."
Kassus glanced into the old piece of burnished bronze that passed for a mirror. He ran a hand along his jaw.
"Hm." was all he said.
But Aphrodite caught it, that tiny flicker in his eyes. That brief pause, where he did not hate what he saw. She smiled to herself and turned away before he could notice.
The sea never slept, but Rhodes did. Kassus sat upright on the floor, his sword propped against the wall like a silent sentinel. Aphrodite was curled up across the room on his bed, wrapped in soft linen, breathing steady. Peaceful. He took a moment to admire her peaceful presence, the one he initially hated, but now it was different. Sleep had not touched him yet.
With a quiet breath, he stood and slipped outside, barefoot against warm stone. The town lay still around him, lit only by silver light and the distant glint of the ocean. He walked until he reached a temple ruins.
And then...
"Why is she still alive?"
The whisper came not from around him, but through him. A voice in the marrow of his bones. Kassus did not answer. He sat on the broken edge of a sun-bleached column, elbows on his knees, fingers laced.
"You know what she is."
A pause.
"She is not yours to love."
He scoffed, but it was quiet. "I do not love her."
"No?" The voice smiled without lips. "Then kill her."
Kassus clenched his jaw.
"She is a god. She is Olympus. She is the same as the ones who took your everything. She will bring you nothing but ruin."
He stayed still. Then finally murmured, "She is not like them."
"They never are. Not at first."
Silence again. Only the sea. The cold. Then—
"You've gone soft again, little warrior."
The air felt colder. Kassus did not move.
"You were so close. You held Hephaestus' head in your hand. You watched Hera burn a child alive. And now..." The voice curled in his skull like smoke. "You dine beside their sister. You joke with her. You look at her like she's human."
"I know what she is." Kassus said quietly.
"No, you don't. Not yet. But you will."
A long breath. Kassus looked up at the stars —at constellations he no longer trusted.
Then the voice twisted darker, colder, deeper:
"You were forged for this. If you let your blade grow dull now, it will cost you more than you can bear. Again."
A flicker of a child's face. Blood. Screaming. Then silence. Kassus sat there a long time, staring into the distance, the ruins shadowed in moonlight. His fingers brushed the hilt of his sword, the Aegis Blade. But he did not draw it. Instead, he stood. He turned back toward the home where Aphrodite slept— still breathing softly, still dreaming.And he let himself feel, just for a moment, the terrifying weight of his choice.
He would not kill her. Not now. Maybe not ever. And whatever that meant —whatever wrath it summoned— he would face it.
— — — — — — — — — — — — —
On day seven, the streets of Rhodes stirred gently beneath a pale morning sun. Market stalls were just beginning to open, the scent of baking bread mixing with saltwater breeze. Kassus walked with slow steps, arms crossed, his brow already knit in his usual preemptive scowl, while Aphrodite walked beside him barefoot, holding the edge of her dress to keep it from dragging on the ground.
"Are you sure this is necessary?" Kassus muttered.
"You said I can't wear the same thing to a festival." She said, grinning sideways. "I'm trying to blend in, remember? Like a modest, humble, mortal woman."
"You are really leaning into that last part."
She smiled sweetly. "Well, husband, I'm doing my best."
He nearly tripped. The tailor's shop was nestled beneath a vine-covered awning, the air inside heavy with linen, dust, and faint lavender. Bolts of fabric lined the walls in cascading colors. A pair of shears hung like a holy relic near the counter.
"Kassus?"
The voice came from behind a curtain. An old man emerged, stooped but sharp-eyed, with sun-spotted skin and a half-limp to his gait. He squinted. "Gods above. It is you. Aegion's boy."
Kassus gave a tight nod. "Good to see you, Theras."
Theras stepped forward and slapped his shoulder. "You look too much like him. That's either a good thing or a curse."
"It depends on the day."
From the back of the shop, a plump older woman peeked out. "Is that Kassus? Aegion's kid?"
"I guess I am still known." Kassus muttered under his breath.
Aphrodite smiled warmly. "He's very well known."
The old woman bustled over, eyes twinkling as she looked Aphrodite over from head to toe. "And who's this lovely thing?"
A beat passed. Aphrodite looked up at Kassus expectantly.
Kassus cleared his throat. "This is... Daphne. My wife."
Theras blinked. His wife let out a delighted gasp. "Wife? You didn't say you were married!"
"Love can be found in the most... unexpected ways?" Kassus mumbled.
"She's beautiful." the woman said, cupping Aphrodite's face. "Oh, you're going to look divine. The Sun God's festival needs proper color. All the women dress like blooming flowers!"
"I was hoping you might have something I could wear." Aphrodite said softly, hands folded in front of her.
Theras waved them toward the back. "Of course. We'll take your measurements. Kassus, sit down before your face wrinkles itself into leather."
Aphrodite chuckled, and Kassus only grunted, watching as she was ushered behind the curtain. He could hear Theras' wife humming and fussing over fabrics, Aphrodite's gentle laugh blending in like it belonged here. He sat there a long while, picking at a frayed bit of thread on his sleeve. The peace of it was strange— like a memory he had never lived. Then came the sound of curtains rustling.
Kassus looked up. And when Aphrodite stepped through the veil of fabric, he froze.
Even dressed in something simple— soft yellows and pale oranges, a golden sash tied at the waist— she was breathtaking. Light from the shop's open window hit her in such a way that the silk shimmered gently around her. Her hair had been braided with ribbon, and her eyes held something nervous and hopeful behind them.
"Well?" She asked, voice quiet.
Kassus blinked, then stood, his mouth slightly open. A slow blush crept into his cheeks.
"In a world full of wonders," he whispered. "You outshine them all. That attire is beautiful... but it pales in comparison to the way you wear it."
He did not even try to sound cold or indifferent. For once, he let the words come out as they were: honest, unguarded. Aphrodite's eyes widened slightly. She was used to compliments, worship even, but this was something different. Kassus saw her. Not just a goddess. Not a statue. Not a fantasy. A woman— one he was beginning to care for, even if he did not say it aloud.
A small, shy smile tugged at her lips. And for the first time in a long, long while, she felt the soft flutter of something she could name, but could not dare herself to say yet.
The night fell like a soft sigh over Rhodes, the streets alive with golden light and music that wound like silk through the alleys. Lanterns bobbed overhead, and children ran barefoot, trailing ribbons. The celebration in honor of the Sun God turned the city into a place of warmth and laughter, where even the most burdened souls could forget their weight, if only for a moment. Aphrodite walked beside Kassus, her new dress fluttering at her ankles—the same one from the tailor, now paired with tiny olive leaves woven through her braid. She looked mortal. Radiant but not otherworldly. She looked like a woman who belonged. Like Daphne, wife of Kassus.
And gods, Kassus was struggling to keep his eyes off her.
Eventually, music began to rise. Some strings and flutes and the pulse of drums. A wide circle opened in the city square where couples began to dance, twirling and laughing. When Aphrodite extended her hand, Kassus hesitated. But the look in her eyes, soft and inviting, made him forget how much he hated being the center of attention.
"You fought wars." She teased gently. "You can survive a dance."
He let her pull him into the rhythm, his steps clumsy at first, but her guidance was patient. They swayed among the others, and before long, he was not thinking about his feet at all, but about her. She returned his smile with an equally soft one of her own, lost in his gaze for a few moments. The music and the crowd slowly faded into background noise as they danced.
"You're quite the charmer, aren't you?" She teased, her voice slightly breathless.
"As I said earlier... love can be found in the most unexpected moments by the most unexpected people." Kassus replied. His tone was far from playful— he meant every word. He was lost in her eyes, admiring her not as a goddess, but as a soul. He stopped dancing, now only holding her, hoping what he felt was not just his alone.
Aphrodite's breath hitched slightly as Kassus quoted what she thought was just to pretend earlier back to her. She had not expected him to remember. That he did made her heart beat faster. She stopped dancing as well, her arms still wrapped around his neck. For a moment, she just gazed into his eyes, filled with a mixture of uncertainty and anticipation.
"...And what happens if love finds its way into your unexpected times with me, Kassus?" Aphrodite asked, her voice soft, almost trembling with honesty. The air between them buzzed with something deeper than desire. It was hope. Fear. The beginning of something dangerous and beautiful.
Kassus was quiet for a moment. He felt his heart racing. Not from battle, not from rage, but from her. A feeling unfamiliar, and yet... undeniable.
"I would say falling in love with the person that created love itself is such an honor. Frightening, painful, scary as it can be. But I just hope to you, as the goddess of love, that you feel the same for me." His voice trembled only slightly at the end.
Aphrodite's heart skipped a beat. She was not used to being seen like this— not just desired, but understood. She looked at him, her eyes glimmering with something raw and unguarded.
"And if I do?" she whispered.
"And if you do... then I will never let you go again." Kassus replied, barely louder than her.
He leaned closer, his eyes flicking to her lips. Her breath hitched, the world spinning away as she tilted her face toward his. She could feel the heat of his skin, the way his breath ghosted against her mouth.
"I have a confession to make." she whispered, her voice trembling.
Kassus froze slightly. "...I am listening, Aphrodite."
She looked at him with that same mix of vulnerability and certainty. "I... I am falling in love with you, Kassus. This isn't part of my powers, or some kind of divine trick. This is real. And I've never felt this way before in all my existence. I'm not sure what to do with myself."
Kassus felt his chest tighten. He reached up slowly and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, trying to reassure her, to ease her turmoil, to clean her thoughts. "Then let us figure it out together." He murmured. "We have both walked through fire. Maybe now it's time to feel something good."
They leaned in. Closer. Her hands on his chest. His forehead touching hers.
The moment was perfect.
And then—
"Aphrodite."
The voice split the sky.
The music stopped mid-note. Laughter died in an instant. A cold gust of wind blew through the square, snuffing out several lanterns. The crowd turned their heads in unison, murmurs rising like a tide. A deafening crack echoed overhead as a stormcloud formed unnaturally fast. Thunder rolled like a god's fury awakened. Kassus' body tensed, his arm sliding instinctively in front of her, shielding her. The couple recognized the voice.
From above, a figure emerged— wreathed in lightning and authority. His eyes burned like suns. His presence commanded silence.
Zeus.
"You were warned by your sword." the god claimed. "She belongs on Olympus."