The following morning Mylene was, as usual, up with the first insistent crowing of the cock. She pulled herself from her bed, limped to the wash basin and tried to wash the sleep away. She hadn't slept much, thanks to Ares' irritating warlord, who still hadn't deigned to enlighten her as to his name. As she dressed, she irritably muttered, "And it'll be too soon if I ever see him again!"

Helios had barely begun his journey over the horizon when Mylene hobbled into her garden, awkwardly going down onto her knees, and cursing under her breath at the ensuing pain.

She had been viciously digging at the earth around her modest vegetable garden for a while when a soft whickering sound came from behind her.

Taken by surprise, she spun around, only to lose her balance and abruptly ended up sitting on the ground looking up.

She gasped.

Standing barely two feet away from her and pawing the ground impatiently was the largest horse she had ever seen. No - she corrected herself - the largest stallion she had ever seen. He was coal black from head to foot, with huge, fierce eyes that were regarding her for all the world as if he was impatient with her.

She swallowed, shivering in fear and scrambled awkwardly to move back further from him, for all that he was the most magnificent animal she had ever seen.

She looked up at his rider, and her eyes widened in shock - and then, anger.

"You! What do you want now?" She asked, her voice trembling. Her eyes had wandered back to the horse, and she was swallowing convulsively, in spite of her otherwise discouraging words.

He shrugged, his hands lightly holding the reins. For a moment he looked away, before returning his gaze to her. "I've come to take you for a ride," he told her calmly, as if he was discussing the weather.

Mylene's mouth fell open at such a ridiculous statement. "Are you insane? I'm not going for a ride anywhere! You know I can't ride. How could you be so cruel! And get that thing away from me!"

Dark eyes regarded her piercingly. "Polemachos is not a thing. He happens to be one of the finest mounts in existence. And he reacts to the tone of voices, so if I were you, I'd calm down. And yes, you are going for a ride. Now get up," he told her implacably, dismounting in one lithe, smooth movement as he finished speaking.

The woman at his feet simply gaped up at him as if he'd grown two heads.

"You are insane, aren't you?" She asked, completely convinced that Ares' warlord had lost what had obviously been a fine mind.

He ignored her.

"Inside," he ordered her, his firm hands making it impossible for her to do anything but obey him and move awkwardly towards the open doorway of her home.

Once inside, she tried turning to him.

"I don't know what you think you're..."

"Sit," he told her firmly, indicating the chair beside the table.

"Excuse me, but this is..."

"I said sit!" He repeated in a voice that none of those who served him would dare disobey.

And neither did Mylene. She sat, staring up at him warily.

Those beautiful dark eyes moved down to her damaged leg. He moved closer and crouched down in front of her, his hands going out to close warmly and securely around the shattered limb, as he regarded it thoughtfully.

"What are you...?"

"Be quiet," he bade her, his voice more quiet now, as his attention focussed on her leg.

Mylene gasped. Under his hands, her leg was becoming very warm, and now a pure, bright light surrounded his hands and her leg. She didn't dare move. The warmth grew, becoming almost uncomfortable, but still she didn't move.

After some moments, the light faded and he removed his hands.

He stood, his eyes returning to her face.

"Stand up," he told her, his own face expressionless.

Slowly, she did so.

She cried out. Even before she looked down, she knew.

Her leg had been healed. All the shattered bones had been straightened and set.

In utter astonishment she looked up at him. "How did you...? What...?" The words wouldn't come. She shook her head in confusion, trying to understand; trying to put the right words together.

Then, three words found their way to the front of her brain. They were the only three words to make sense to her as she tried to articulate them. And she desperately needed to know.

"Who are you?"

He stood calmly before her, pleased that he had been able to heal her. Healing was not one of his major talents, nor was it called for in his godly office. He sighed inwardly, knowing that the pleasant, relaxing diversion of the previous three days was at an end, even as he named himself.

"Ares."

Mylene could only stare, stunned, even as tears of deep emotion formed in her eyes at the sudden, utterly unexpected healing of her leg. Her mind was a maelstrom of whirling thoughts and feelings. The kindness he had just performed overshadowed, for a moment, the implications of that one quietly spoken word of identification which followed the stunning and impossible healing.

Then that one word did manage to find recognition within her.

"Ares?" She blinked. That definitely didn't make sense. No, the God of War was, in her mind, a brutal, enraged monstrosity who stalked the earth with blood on his hands, destroying and murdering at will, and revelling in the horror that he visited on mortals. He couldn't possibly be this tall, graceful, articulate, kind and beautiful being now standing quietly before her.

"You can't be," she whispered. Abruptly she sat down again, shaking her head and completely at a loss for words.

The dark Lord of War gazing down at her with unreadable liquid chocolate eyes turned inward for a moment, dealing with his own negative - and unwanted - emotions. What else could he have expected her reaction to be? He frowned, annoyed at the feelings trying to articulate themselves within him.

"Why is that, my dear?" He enquired coldly. "Disappointed that the God of War isn't quite the bloodcurdling monster you had so fondly imagined him to be?"

Still she stared.

Oh gods, I've been arguing with Ares himself for three days! She cringed at the terrible things she had said about him to his face.

...to his face...

Anger surfaced, shocking her even further. "No. Not disappointed. angry - that the almighty Ares would choose to play such a game with a mere mortal," she told him, then stopped abruptly, blanching. He had her thoroughly confused. Her mind was wavering between thinking of him as one of Ares' warlords with whom she'd spent a great deal of time over the last three days alternately arguing and enjoying his company, and knowing with a terrible certainty that he was who he said he was; Ares the God of War himself.

He was watching the play of expressions across her face as realisation hit her, and chose to ignore her comment.

"Well, mortal," he told her calmly, although a faint hint of amusement coloured his dark eyes, "I said you're going for a ride, and so you are. Come."

His hand went out in invitation to her, but still she sat there, staring up at him.

He frowned. "Well?" There was just a touch of impatience in the query.

She shook her head. "I'm sorry. You'll have to give me a little time. You see...it's been six years, and I...you..."

Then, to his consternation and annoyance, she burst into tears.

"You healed my leg!" She blurted out, in between sobs.

He shifted his weight slightly from one leg to the other, lowering his hand, but waiting patiently until her sobs died down.

"I'm sorry," she repeated, still sniffing. "You just surprised me, that's all."

He shrugged. "Whatever. It suited me. Can we go now, please?" The tone was sarcastic and impatient, and when she looked up, he was every inch the god she now knew him to be. Distant, unsmiling and with sheer, leashed power radiating out from him.

He confused her.

But deep within the dark Lord of War himself, infrequent warmth bathed his most hidden recesses. His heart lurched, recognising the hated feelings, but for once powerless to stop them.

Mylene wiped her eyes, nodding and slowly standing. After so long, her leg felt perfectly fine. There was no pain at all. She took a tentative step forward, and smiled up at him, her face beaming. She didn't care if he was the God of War. All she saw now was someone who had done her an overwhelming kindness.

"Thank you seems so...inadequate," she told him quietly.

He blinked. No one ever said thank you to him out of genuine gratitude. Those who served him did so only because they knew how much he abhorred disrespect, and not out of any heartfelt gratitude for anything he might have done for them. Well, not many of them anyway. Others thanked him as part of their grovelling, actually believing that he was susceptible to their transparent attempts at flattering him.

"There's no need," he replied smoothly, his face free of expression.

He turned and moved to the door, but stopped, allowing her to slowly walk through ahead of him.

That confused her even more. The God of War a gentleman? She had to stop herself from shaking her head in amazement. He was shattering every single preconception she had held of him.

Quite suddenly, she didn't care who he was. She was lighthearted and happy for the first time in a very long time. As she walked out the door, she picked up her shoulders and walked with eager ease and proudly upright towards the great black stallion waiting patiently for his master's return.

As she tentatively approached him, the enormous head turned to regard her out of eyes that were as dark as the dark Lord of War's. No, she wasn't going to let her fears get the better of her. She smiled and reached out to pat him on the snout. "Well, hello there! What a fine horse you are!"

The horse stared, as if capable of being totally thunderstruck.

She heard a strange choking sound coming from behind her, but when she turned, Ares' face bore its customary lack of expression.

Self-conscious now, she removed her hand.

Ares stepped forward and with no effort at all lifted her up on to the great warhorse.

The animal moved restlessly at feeling the stranger on his back, but a few quiet words in his ear from his master settled him.

The god mounted to take his place behind Mylene, his arms moving around her to take the reins in a practised grip.

The mortal woman stiffened, feeling the warmth of the body up against hers. She swallowed. It had been a long time since she had been this close to a man - and this wasn't a man, it was the God of War himself. She didn't realise she was holding her breath in tension.

"Relax," said a deep, soft voice in her ear. "Contrary to popular belief, I'm not going to bite you," he informed her wickedly.

She expelled her breath and relaxed slightly, as Ares tightened his hold in the reins and urged the horse to a sedate trot through the quiet streets of the town.

Helios's chariot had barely made its way above the horizon, and there was still a heavy chill in the air, but Mylene didn't care. The sweet scent of dawn hung lightly in the air, and Ares' powerful arms lay on either side of her, holding her securely in her seat. How she had missed riding. She inhaled deeply of the morning, her previous fears all gone now.

The great horse picked its way carefully through the streets, its hooves making a hollow clopping sound in the early morning stillness. Then they were out of the town itself and on a path, with dense forest on either side of them. The God of War nudged the horse to the left and into the forest.

Soon they were deep within the forest, the road well behind them.

Mylene smiled, enjoying the morning to its fullest.

Behind her, Ares, god-sense reached out and touched her happiness, but he remained silent, guiding the horse through the woodlands.

Then they had emerged into an open space. To the right, a rapidly flowing river sparkled in the new-born light from Helios's chariot, the sound of its frantic journey down the mountains containing a crystalline, pure music. In the far distance, those mountains beckoned invitingly.

Bird calls surrounded them, and as far as the eye could see, wildflowers grew in magnificent colourful profusion, even carpeting the earth between Polemachos's impatient legs.

The master knew his horse well - centuries of familiarity making horse and master almost one unified being. Now, Polemachos was eager to be given free rein.

Ares looked down at the woman seated in front of him, her skirts pulled up to her thighs to enable her to ride in comfort. He smiled slightly.

Leaning down, he whispered, "Trust me," just before wordlessly urging the mount beneath him into a trot.

The trot quickly became a lope, which equally as quickly became an all-out gallop.

Mylene screamed. Long and loud. Even she wasn't sure whether it was from sheer fright or sheer exhilaration, as the great warhorse thundered across the verdant lowlands.

Once again, Ares, grinning, leaned down. "Mylene, trust me. Relax and enjoy it. I won't let you fall, I promise." They were going so fast now he had to yell the words above the noise of Polemachos's hooves.

The woman seated in front of the god was breathing hard, but heard the absolute assurance in his voice. She nodded and visibly relaxed, leaving back against the hard body behind her.

She had never experienced anything to rival that glorious charge across the plain. They were going so fast, even her braid was flying around merrily about her, the cold wind stinging her face as they flew along. She dared a glance behind her, and the God of War was laughing with sheer pleasure, his own wavy locks flying out around him. It was a stunning sight. It utterly transformed the dark, severe, beautiful face, giving him an almost boyish mien that was breathtaking. She suddenly stopped grinning and shyly turned away from him, feeling she had been privy to something that not very many people at all ever saw.

Beneath them, the muscles of the great horse moved fluidly as he carried them far from Elaea and swiftly towards the mountains. His hooves thundered unrelentingly over the earth, his ears laid flat back against his head. Mylene had the strangest feeling he was enjoying the ride every bit as much as his master and she was.

They were fast approaching a large forest that was part of the mountain foothills. The river still ran beside them, but more narrow now.

With minimum communication, Ares brought Polemachos back to a trot. The great horse obeyed instantly, its head tossing as it moved into the forest and closer to the inviting water.

At the river's edge they came to a halt.

Mylene felt Ares pull away and dismount. She looked down at him as he lifted her down to stand beside him. His expression was once again unreadable as he gazed at the flushed, happy face of the mortal woman.

"That was..." She raised her shoulders and arms in a gesture that showed she was lost for words.

He inclined his head silently in what was, for those who knew him well, an indication that he agreed with her.

Shy again, Mylene nevertheless found the courage to lean up and gently kiss him on the cheek.

If the horse had looked thunderstruck before, now the master appeared equally at a rare loss for words.

"There's no need to thank me," he told her gruffly. "He needed a good workout anyway."

She looked up into the dark, unwavering eyes, awareness of who he was flooding back in full measure.

"I'm sorry," she whispered quietly. "I meant no disrespect, Lord Ares. I didn't know how else to thank you for such a wonderful gift - gifts."

Still he remained silent.

"You're nothing like I imagined," she stammered, trying to fill the silence, and unaccountably nervous.

"Oh? And how did you imagine me?" He enquired silkily.

Her blush deepened.

"It doesn't matter, really. I was wrong, and you..."

He waited, but nothing further was forthcoming.

"And I...what?" He queried.

She swallowed, trying to look anywhere but at his face, but those beautiful, mesmerising eyes held her captive.

"You... You're not the God of War of my imagination," she whispered. Gods, he is so beautiful and masculine. Everything about him is perfection.

"Oh?" He replied softly, moving a step closer.

At such close quarters, she could almost feel the heat radiating from his body, through the vest he wore. Swallowing again, she backed up, her nervousness increasing, until she found herself up against a large tree.

He was so close now. He'd kept moving toward her with all the silent grace of a panther.

One hand came up to gently stroke her cheek.

"Tanagra was a long time ago, Mylene. You need to start living again," he told her softly, distinctly.

The warmth of his hand gently stroking her cheek was calling forth a reaction she had thought long-dead.

There were no words to offer in reply. She knew he was right, even if the pain of losing her husband and son still lay heavy on her heart, and probably always would. But even now, cracks filled with warmth were appearing in her long-frozen heart.

She closed her eyes and gave in to the feelings coursing through her at his touch. She could hear the trickling of the stream as it flowed passed them; the sound of woodland birds made a sweet sound that filled the silence of the forest. The gentle murmur of the breeze in the trees the only sound to caress her ears. It all combined to fill her with a warmth she had been deprived of for too long. Without consciously being aware of it, she leaned forward, eyes still closed.

"Open your eyes," Ares' voice softly bade her.

She obeyed. That beautiful, intent face was just inches from hers. Almost in slow motion, his head lowered to hers, his lips touching hers with a feather-soft gentleness that was devastating.

It felt wonderful. He tasted wonderful. Mylene sighed and leaned closer to the hard body.

Strong hands encircled her upper arms, bringing her right up against him.

He was aroused. She could feel that through the tight leather encasing him. On a sigh, her lips opened beneath his as his kiss grew more passionate, his moist tongue seeking entrance to her mouth.

Much later, he raised his head to gaze down at her flushed features.

"Touch me," he ordered quietly.

She wondered briefly if he'd read her mind, hesitating for only a minute before shyly moving her hand up to touch the hard chest visible through his vest.

Then, suddenly, her instincts made the decision for her. The other hand moved, almost of its own accord, to his thick, wavy hair. Her fingers embedded themselves greedily in the glossy black locks.

Ares' lips grew more insistent.

Mylene responded.

His arms moved to enfold her now, as the woman encircled by them returned his kisses measure for measure.

She felt the cool breeze against her back, and realised with a start that her clothes had vanished. She moved back a little and saw that Ares' clothes had also disappeared.

She stared, taking in the perfection of the god's form, now revealed to her yearning gaze. She thought it the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

Her face raised to his, and Ares saw the longing in the soft brown eyes.

Without a word, he moved to pull her even closer to him.

Mylene reached up and buried her fingers in his thick curls, her lips opening on a sigh as he took them again, demanding far more from her this time. She was beyond thinking now, passion overwhelming her in wave after wave of sharp, wonderful sensation. As his hands moved over her, so now did hers move over him, her senses rejoicing in the feel of him beneath her questing fingers.

They sank to the cool green grass at their feet, the look of desire on the god's face adding to her own urgent need for him.

As Ares moved to cover her, Mylene smiled up at him, tears of genuine happiness springing into her eyes. As he entered her, she cried out for the joy of it.

Not long afterwards, Polemachos turned his head in enquiry. He was the only witness to their completion, as their cries rose to become lost in the depths of the forest.

Mylene carefully re-tied the bindings on her dress. Almost uncertainly she looked over at the God of War who, fully dressed, stood waiting for her next to Polemachos, his face as usual devoid of any readable expression. But she somehow knew he was feeling as sated as she was, and, in a curious way, at peace.

"Are you ready to go?" Came the quiet, velvet voice.

She nodded. "Yes." Her body was still glowing with the after-effects of their loving.

Her mind wandered back to the hour before. Afterwards, she had lain quietly in his arms, as he lazily stroked a finger up and down her arm.

She turned to look at his face, her own face betraying her uncertainty.

"You need feel no guilt, Mylene. Your husband would want you to get on with your life," he said quietly, reading her thoughts again.

She didn't say anything for a moment, but nestled her head in the hollow of his shoulder.

"You've been so kind to me, Lord Ares, I don't..."

"Kindness had nothing to do with it, my dear," he told her flatly. "It suited me."

Mylene smiled. "Of course, Lord Ares."

He turned his head sharply at the tone of her voice, but her face betrayed nothing but bland innocence as she returned his gaze stare for stare.

An aristocratic eyebrow raised skeptically.

"You dare much, little mortal," he told her, although with no real ire.

She smiled again. "Your secret is safe with me, my Lord," she whispered impishly, her smile widening to a grin.

But the grin died as his lips covered hers again.

Now he stood waiting for her, so she went to him, and was lifted back onto the back of his warhorse. This time, when he mounted behind her, she leaned back happily against him. She didn't see the warm, pleased expression that passed across his features to disappear as rapidly as it had appeared.

The ride back took considerably longer, as the God of War didn't appear to be in a hurry to be free of the company of the mortal woman seated in front of him. He set Polemachos to an undemanding trot as they returned the way they had earlier come.

Neither Mylene nor Ares volunteered much in the way of conversation, each being preoccupied with their own thoughts.

The widow of Metion gazed absently ahead of her, fingers clutched loosely in Polemachos's long, glossy mane. Her hair, which Ares' had earlier unravelled, hung about her shoulders in shiny profusion. So much had happened over the last few days - the last few hours. She looked down at her unblemished leg, her face thoughtful. The god seated behind her had healed her freely, of his own volition and without being petitioned. And he was the God of War - one of, if not the most feared, of the gods. The utterance of his very name struck terror into the hearts of most mortals.

She compared what she had heard with what she now knew. Ares' reputation did him something of an injustice, she felt, for he wasn't always the angry god, filled with bloodlust, that she had thought him to be. She had no doubt that an angry Ares would be something out of the collective nightmares of the entire mortal race. Yet, she had, over the last few days, enjoyed the company of the severe, unsmiling, quiet being behind her. He had listened to all she had said, and replied thoughtfully and with courtesy, even if sometimes she had said things that did anger him. He had healed her leg - a fact that she still hadn't come to terms with. And he had made passionate, gentle love to her.

Her eyes fell to the mane she was clutching, still deep in thought. The God of War was a complete paradox. He confused her. He wasn't at all what she might have expected. Not that she had ever expected to come face to face with any of the gods. It reassured her to know that Metion hadn't died in the service of a god who was brutal and bloodthirsty to the core. She smiled slightly, although it was bittersweet, and returned her gaze to the distant landscape.

The subject of her thoughts was also thinking. It was rare for him to take such an interest in individual mortals, except for those who showed real promised, and those whom he actively sought for his service. She was nothing like the women he usually sought out as lovers. And yet, for all that she had led a sheltered life, and was in no way a warrior, she still contained within her a fire and earthy integrity that pleased him.

Healing her leg had been a very small thing for him, as had been taking her for the ride. He wasn't entirely sure why he had done so, but he shrugged inwardly, admitting to himself that he had enjoyed her company, and the chance to step outside the constraints of his godhood for just a small space of time. It was something he rarely did, or even wanted to do, but this time had been different for some reason. As mortals went, Mylene of Elaea was a pleasing example. He sighed slightly to himself, wishing that more of them were like her, but knew that to be no more than wishful thinking on his part. And, he admitted, he did enjoy toying with them. More often than not, they made pleasant sport.

They were nearing Elaea now, and Mylene felt a twinge of sadness mixed with resignation, knowing the morning's wonderful interlude was about to end. As they passed, townspeople stopped and stared, open-mouthed. The God of War ignored them, while Mylene grinned, knowing the consternation they were causing. As they approached her house, Ares slowed the great horse until they came to a standstill right outside her home.

He swung down off Polemachos and lowered the mortal woman gently to the ground.

They stood facing each other, silent for a long moment. Mylene felt deep emotions suddenly coursing through her, and had to swallow sudden tears, knowing he wouldn't like such a display. Ares, for his part, remained expressionless as he gazed down at her.

"Thank you, Lord Ares. I'll never forget...," was all Mylene could say to him.

The earring in his ear danced as he shook his head. "There's no need," he told her quietly. He was silent again for a while.

"I have to go now. Goodbye Mylene," he said softly, reaching out to gently stroke her cheek. His face was almost hard now, belying the quietness of his voice.

He stepped away from her then, and moved to take up the warhorse's reins. As she watched, both Ares and the great animal vanished from her gaze.

She stood gazing for several minutes at the space where the dark Lord of War had stood, before turning and slowly walking into her house.

That was not the last time Mylene was to see the God of War, however.

Years passed.

Wars came and went; across Greece and across the entire mortal world. The world was at times covered in blood. Sometimes the fighting passed close to Elaea. More often than not the small backwater remained completely untouched by the bloodshed. Many in the town wondered if perhaps their town was under the protection of one of the gods - although that was only ever speculation, and never treated with any serious consideration by any in Elaea - except for one.

The healing of Mylene's leg was also a subject of quiet speculation for many months.

As spring gave way to summer one year, a small girl child with curly black hair came screaming defiantly into the world.

And every year, on the anniversary of that first visit, the dark God of War returned to take Mylene for a ride on his great warhorse. They would disappear for hours into the forest that lay so far from Elaea - but which was reached easily by the great black stallion as he pounded across the earth.

Rumours flew for years throughout Elaea as to the identify of Mylene's mysterious visitor, but she remailed silent, merely smiling whenever the subject arose, for that was one secret she held close to her heart.

"Granny, when will he be coming again?" Asked the small boy nestled on her lap, squirming in excitement. He never tired of hearing the story his grandmother had just told. And he knew that this year a promise had been made that he would finally ride on his grandsire's great stallion.

The dark haired woman looked up at the boy's mother. She stood, tall and slender, leaning against the wall, arms folded in a position so like her father's that her mother had to smile.

"Soon, my love. Soon. The year is almost at an end now. It won't be long."

Galandra, the boy's mother, moved to take him from Mylene's lap, the dark robe she wore as a Priestess of Ares swirling gracefully about her form. "Come, Yiannis, it grows late, and I have to return to the Temple."

But her son had other ideas. Turning eagerly to his grandmother and wanting to prolong his visit, he asked, "Granny, do you think Ares enjoys riding with you?"

Mylene didn't reply for a long moment, her eyes gazing at the far wall without really seeing it, before looking down at her small grandson and smiling gently.

"Yes, Yiannis. Yes, I think he does."

Finis.