“Have you seen her?” Aphrodite, shrill and displeased, swept across the beach towards Ares. Without the wind and her attendants, she had to bundle her silks in her arms to keep them from the sand. “Have you seen her, dearest?” She came to a stop in front of him and rested her hands on his golden breastplate, not yet stained by battle. 
     “I’ve seen her,” Ares said. He left his words dangling in front of her and took a step away from the water. While the sand was coarse, he much preferred it to the sea. Nothing ruins leather quite like water, he thought ruefully. 
     Aphrodite blanched, then flushed. “And?” She tried for demureness, “Was she beautiful?”  
     “Yes, she was.” 
     Aphrodite scowled, then smoothed the creases on her face with a carefree laugh. She leaned forward, “More beautiful than me?” A gentle ocean breeze lifted the fabrics from her hands, framing her like a painting. Ares opened, then closed his mouth, trying to collect his wits. 
     “What does it matter, woman?” He flung his arms around her waist, intent on reeling her in. “She’s mortal.” Ares felt water lapping at the back of his legs, and realized that he no longer stood on dry land. He tore his gaze from Aphrodite and looked out towards the suddenly-agitated sea. “Don’t concern yourself with her; wait a century or so and she’ll be gone.” 
     “I want her gone now,” Aphrodite said it quietly, but Ares could hear the command in her words. Annoyed, he turned away and adjusted his scabbard. “Didn’t you hear me?” 
     When Aphrodite moved to stroke his shoulder, he shook her off. “That’s too bad, woman.” He began to walk away, Aphrodite at his back and his heart thundering in his chest. With how she carries on, she must think herself Zeus, Ares thought. “She’s married to Menelaus,” He heard Aphrodite snort and continued, “Scoff all you like. Menelaus is a good Spartan and I won’t make him suffer for your peace of mind.” 
     “Dearest,” There was a dark undercurrent to the word, as if Aphrodite were hissing a threat. “My peace of mind is worth a great deal.” 
     Ares turned to admonish his consort, and was met with a raging sea and flashing eyes. She stood with the ocean behind her, wearing an expression of disdain so potent that he feared the sky itself would fall prostrate at her feet. Aphrodite was never more gorgeous than when she was wroth, Ares marveled. Such a shame that she chose to be wroth at him. 
     “I must go.” He said, “I have a war.” 
     Aphrodite sneered. “You always have a war. Sometimes, I think you love war more than you love me.” Ares had no reply, other than an incline of his head. With nothing left to say between them, he vanished from the beach, presumably to wreak havoc on the world of men. Aphrodite stood alone, sky and sea turning as dark as her mood. 
     “Another war, is it?” She snarled and kicked grains of sand into the howling winds around her. “Damn him! Damn her! As if I could-” Aphrodite froze, lips parted to shout again, when something akin to calm washed over her. “I will have her gone.” Aphrodite  savored each word, as if the very idea nourished her. 
     The wind battered her hair and silks, and she laughed.