OF WAR Anthology Novels 1-3

by Lisa Beth Darling

  The women walked him, they rocked him, they sang to him, and Eros did the same. It didn’t take too long to figure out that Raven was hungry; he drained all eight bottles of breast milk Alena left in the refrigerator in just under seven hours. Eros, having been a Father himself, was leery about giving the infant a few spoonfuls of applesauce or Ambrosia, knowing that Raven’s parents would want to be the first to do that for him, but he couldn’t let the infant go on being hungry either; that seemed cruel. Sitting on his Father’s throne with Raven in his lap, Eros took up a small spoonful of applesauce and laced it across Raven’s curled, crying, quivering lips. A moment later the baby’s tongue lapped along it, his gray eyes opened wide, and he looked up Eros. “Is that good?” Eros asked as he laced a little more along the boy’s bottom lip. Raven licked it up without any hesitation. “I see it is, your Mother’s going to be very mad at me,” he crooned.

  “Lord Ares has been telling her the baby’s ready for solid food, but Alena hasn’t been listening to him,” Onya said softly as she looked on. “Look at him go, he loves it.”

  “Your poor mother thinks you’re a human boy; oh your mommy’s in for such a shock, isn’t she?” Eros mused and gave his Brother a little more applesauce. Obviously Ares hadn’t bothered to explain much of Olympian babies to Alena and Eros started to wonder, and then to worry, just how she was going to cope with the rapid growth spurt her little bundle of joy was about to undergo. A few more spoonfuls and the boy quieted down. Soon his eyelids grew heavy and Onya held her hand over her mouth to stifle the giggles as Raven fought to stay awake. Just as his eyes closed all the way his little body jerked and his eyes flew open along with his mouth, tongue protruding in search of more applesauce. The expression on his face was as though someone had startled him. Raven managed to do this four times before sleep took over for the night. Together they laid the baby down in the crib and then walked down the hall hand-in-hand to one of the many unused bedrooms in the Fortress.

  Late the next morning, when Ares and Alena returned to Olympus after a long night of lovemaking and a morning swim, she nearly floated through the front door, her cheeks and her eyes all aglow, the weight of the universe lifted from her slender shoulders. She stopped to give him a peck on the cheek before going to check on Raven. “Good job,” Eros whispered quietly to his Father when she was well past them.

  Ares gave a sly grin along with a grunt and then settled down in the Throne Room, waiting for Alena to bring Raven down from the second floor.

  Humming happily with the boy in her arms, she—followed by Onya—joined the men, sat on the throne Ares made for her and began to feed Raven. The boy latched on right away with a fierce grip. “Ow!”

  Eros nodded as he looked on.

  “What? What is it?” Ares asked as he looked from one to the other.

  “He bit me,” Alena said, bewildered as she pulled the infant away from her breast only to see little drops of blood on her nipple.

  “Last night I thought he might be teething,” Eros said quietly. “He was very hungry, drank all of the milk you left, we had…”

  From behind him, Onya cleared her throat.

  “…I…”

  Feeling that there might be a forthcoming discussion, “Is there anything I can do for you?” Onya asked politely of the Lord and Lady of the house.

  Ares gave her a cross look as he wondered when it was that she began interrupting conversations between family members. “You may go.”

  “All right.” Onya turned to go.

  Ares didn’t miss it when she raised her hand slightly and wiggled her fingers in the air. He also didn’t miss it when Eros’ face brightened and his golden eyebrows rose as he admired her backside leaving the room. Then he blushed. “What was that?”

  “What? What was what?” Eros stuttered, returning his eyes back to Ares and doing his best to recover. “As I was saying, I had to give Raven some applesauce,” Eros confessed. “But I didn’t stick my finger in his mouth to be sure, Olympian infants’ teeth are like little razors so don’t go sticking your own fingers in there, either.” He looked down at his fingers and wiggled them a little almost as Onya had done a moment ago but without the underlying giddiness. When she was a baby, Eros’ Daughter bit him once, and only once, and she took off the very tip of his right index finger; lesson learned and forever remembered. “Anyway, he really liked the applesauce and as you can see it didn’t hurt him any. I am sorry you didn’t get to be the first to do it. Forgive me?”

  “You did what you thought best and it was the right decision, don’t apologize.” Alena looked over to her Husband. “Three months old and he has teeth?” That explained why he was always crying. Suddenly Alena felt like the worst mother in the world; a good mother would have known her son was teething; she would have helped him, soothed his little gums.

  Ares refrained from something witty like ‘I told you so’ in front of Eros. “He’s a growing boy,” was his remark.

  Since it seemed his Father was waiting for something, although Eros had no idea of what, to tell Alena about the coming growth spurt, Eros thought he’d stick in a small word of advice. “Yes, he is Father; Olympians go through their fastest growing period just after birth.” His eyes gently scanned over to Alena. “The first two years or so.” He stood up to take his leave. “Call me back to baby sit anytime,” he crooned as he took a step forward to lay a kiss on Raven’s forehead. “I had a very nice night.”

  “Good,” Alena winked at him, having been hoping that Eros and Onya would have some of the night to themselves. “We’ll call you back again, thank you, Eros.” Holding her son and rubbing her sore breast, she watched Eros saunter out of the room with a light step before she leaned over to her Husband with a smile. “Don’t suppose you’d like to fill me in here.” She remembered Zeus asking her if she treated Ares like any mortal man, as though that were a mistake—and it was—treating Raven the same as any newborn-mortal-ordinary-human-or-even-Fey infant could be a detriment to him.

  “Everything will be fine,” Ares opened with reassurance. He knew Alena well and he knew she wanted nothing more than for Raven to be an ordinary little boy who would stay little for at least the next five or six years. Deep in his heart, Ares was hoping she would get her wish. That wasn’t going to happen even if Raven was of very mixed blood; it was obvious his Olympian traits would dominate his life. “Other than the gestational period, an Olympian grows the most in the first two years of its life,” he advised and then stopped so she could let that gel.

  Alena thought that was probably true of all, or at least most, children. So what was the big deal? Unless… “How much growth are we talking about?”

  Now she was getting it. “By the time he turns two, he will look and behave like an above-average…eight-year-old.”

  Her mouth dropped open and her grip on Raven loosened out of shock; he tumbled forward, but she caught him swiftly, letting out a little “Oh my gods!” The news was shocking but it did explain a few things, such as why Raven at a mere three months old outgrew his newborn Onesies in a few weeks, and why he was already pushing the limit on the 6-month-old size. Why he was too big for the cradle already and how it was that he was rolling over like a monkey and trying to sit up. She thought he was just taking after Ares, but now, “How am I even going to keep him in clothes for the next two years?”

  “Generally, we just don’t bother,” Ares said offhandedly.

  The humor was lost on Alena. “By the time he’s ten he’ll, what, look forty?”

  “No,” Ares growled. “After that it will slow down, all right? I promise. By the time he reaches manhood it will nearly stop…as you can see.” Ares pointed to himself.

  “When will that be? If he looks ten by two when will he…when…will…”

  Raven’s mother wasn’t anywhere near ready to even think about her son having a lover. He was only three months old; to her that was a little young for such things. “Not much sooner than a normal boy, I swear.”
/>   Alena wasn’t in the mood for games. “Spill it, how old?”

  “About fourteen or so.”

  “He’ll be a young man.” She looked down at the baby with the wide eyes snuggled in her arms and suckling.

  “No, he’ll be a full-fledged man,” he swallowed, knowing this wasn’t easy for her, “ready to stand on his own and take on the world, and he will want to do that because he is an Olympian.”

  Well, that wasn’t so bad, maybe. Alena had been a teacher, she knew lots of sixteen and seventeen-year-olds who were emancipated minors and living on their own. They were living in poor conditions and struggling to make frayed ends stay together but they were doing it. Many of them turned out to be very strong adults because of the strife. Raven would be much more fortunate than they had been; he wouldn’t have to deal with any of that. “So at fourteen he’ll be like your average seventeen-year-old.”

  Ares sighed and hung his head. “Why aren’t you listening to me? No, Alena, at fourteen Raven will be equal to your average twenty or twenty-one-year-old man, no longer a teenager, not a boy, no, at all.”

  Fourteen? In the world below, at that age he wouldn’t even be able to drive. He’d be a boy playing baseball in the summer and football in the fall. A boy who was only starting to think about girls and what he wanted to do when he grew up, yet once again she was coldly reminded this was Olympus and the rules of the Mortal World didn’t matter here. The news was distressing, no question about that. Heartbreaking almost to look down at him now and think in a few short months he’d be running around the Fortress. A year from now he’d be ready to ride a bike and go to school. Except there wasn’t any school here on Olympus, no bikes to ride, no balls to hit, no fields in which to run, no frogs to catch, not even a mud puddle to jump around in. Here, there wasn’t so much as a tree to climb and build a fort in its branches. What kind of life was Raven going to have when his only playmate would be a girl who was growing equally quickly? She didn’t even want to think about that. Too soon for such things. “He’s still my little man now.” She stroked his chubby cheek and let the tips of her fingers run over his dark hair. “You’ll always be my little man, no matter how old or how big you get.”

  The God of War slouched on his Throne of Bones as he covered his face with one hand, only to peek out at her from between his thick fingers. That wasn’t a good sign. Not at all. Olympian males on the verge of manhood were very volatile creatures. They were brash, they were bold, and overall they didn’t care where they got to stick their dicks so long as they could stick them somewhere warm and wet. That little bundle cooing at her breast would turn into Hell on Wheels in a few short years, but maybe it was best to let her just enjoy his infancy for as long as she could. Still, there was more she should know and that he should say, no matter how much it upset her. “If you’re thinking of how you’re going to school him, don’t bother.” Ares raised a hand and took in a deep breath only to let it out slowly when she opened her mouth. “His memory is genetic,” Ares advised. “He knows everything I knew and everything you knew up until he was conceived.”

  His words turned her stomach. “Everything?” Jaakim and Cernunnos and all of her time on the run. All of the battles his Father fought? The lives Ares took? Raven would carry these things with him throughout his life with no choice? That seemed terribly unfair. After all, she didn’t want him to know about his Uncle Apollo and his Brother Eros. Alena wanted Raven to be leery of Apollo, of that there was no doubt, but Eros was different. He’d become a part of their little family and, to her liking, had atoned and apologized for the things he’d allowed to happen. If Raven only knew what she knew up until the time that he was conceived, then he wouldn’t know how remorseful his Brother was for all of it.

  Ares reached out for her hand and ran his thumb over the back. “Everything. It will all come to him in time.”

  II

  After Raven was fed and tucked into his cradle for an early afternoon nap, Alena wanted to go down to the Mortal World and get food for him, but Ares wouldn’t let her. They started to argue about it as they walked down the hall but Ares suddenly stopped, put his hands on his hips, pointed his nose and took in a deep sniff. “Something wrong?” Alena asked, already knowing what was on the horizon.

  “They had sex! In my house!”

  Hanging her head and breathing a deep sigh she cupped her hands around his upper arm. “Oh that nose of yours,” she said as she shook her head.

  “You knew! How long has this been going on?”

  There was no point in lying now that the cat was out of the bag. “Eros and Onya have been seeing each other for a few months.”

  Ares nostrils flared as the thick muscles in his neck tightened. “A few…”

  “Now, just stop. They wanted to tell you but, well, look how you’re acting already.” Laying her head on his arm, she patted it with her hand and led him away from the other end of the hall and to the staircase. “They’re adults, Ares, and they shouldn’t have to sneak around like this, you know?”

  “They shouldn’t be sneaking around at all; she’s my woman.”

  “True, technically true, but she is a woman and you’re not, well…you’re not.”

  “So what? She’s still my woman, she’s in my charge and I’m responsible for her,” he asserted as they stood at the top of the long staircase. “At the very least, Eros should have been man enough to come to me and ask me.”

  “You know he’s not very good at confrontation.”

  “Yes, I know.” Ares stroked the beard on his chin, thinking that if Eros were any good at confrontation Zeus would install him as the heir and Trinity would never exist. “Still, I’m insulted.” He was the man of this house and as such felt he had the right to be consulted on matters, all matters, even those such as this.

  “You sound more like her Father than her ex-lover or…employer.” Alena turned to look up at her Husband and see the wrinkles on his brow. “Look, if nothing else, since Eros has Onya you don’t have to worry about him having eyes for me, right?”

  Well, that was an undeniable plus to the situation. “Fine, but there will be rules for this dating thing, I will have a talk with both of them.”

  “Ares,” Alena tilted her head and smiled, “really?”

  “Her first duty is to this family and this house, not to Eros…until or unless he marries her.”

  “Whatever you say, just don’t be an ass about it, all right?”

  Ares let out a grunt as he put his arm around her waist. “Me? An ass? I’m always the epitome of etiquette.” Ares walked her down the stairs where they resumed their conversation of her going down to the Mortal World. Still against the idea, Alena gave him a rather long list and he went to the nearest market. He returned with several boxes of something called ‘baby cereal’ along with bags of fresh fruit; bananas, peaches, strawberries, and apples—all labeled “Organically Grown” at Alena’s strict insistence. In tow was ‘baby Anbesol’, which Alena said would ease the pain of his teething, ‘Arrowroot cookies’—she made sure to tell him he HAD to get the blue, red, and white box with the baby on the label, took him half an hour to find it! She said the cookies were also for Raven’s new teeth. Standing in the cookie aisle of the grocery store and gazing at the massive display of sweet treats, he wondered how mortals got from day to day. He also wondered what the use was in being a God if he had to stand here in the goddamn cookie aisle perplexed by the selection.

  That night, Raven ate an entire bowl of applesauce and mashed bananas—freshly prepared by his mother, of course—and a little bit of Ambrosia at his Father’s insistence, although Raven didn’t seem to care for it as much as the bananas that he jumped excitedly for each time the spoon came near his open mouth. After his nightly bath, Alena wrapped him up warm in his blankets, bravely applied a little bit of the Anbesol to his gums, gave him a cookie on which to munch and soon he fell asleep in Alena’s arms. Ares insisted that she put him down in his crib in his room for the night. She w
ent along with a tinge of sadness. Ares was right, she knew that, Raven was too big for the cradle and he needed room to move. They needed their own private space back. Contenting herself with the fact that she would hear him if he woke in the night, she laid the sleeping boy in his crib with Ares at her side and looking on. Tucking him in she reminded herself that he was only across the hall and their doors were open, he would be fine, just fine. However, she would miss having him curled up in the crook of her arm, smelling that sweet baby scent waft from him and watching his little face pucker and grin as he dreamed. It didn’t seem there would be many days or nights like that, they would be over quickly and that was a downright shame in her stormy eyes.

  Raven’s first night in his crib was far from peaceful; the moment the boy awoke and realized he was alone he began crying. In their room across the hall Ares told her to let the boy fuss, he had to learn to quiet himself and not be taught that someone would always run to his aid. Alena thought that was cruel and, against her Husband’s wishes, went to her son to comfort him. She rocked him in the rocking chair and sang to him until he fell asleep again. She put him back in the crib.

  Five minutes later the process repeated itself. It did so for the entire night.

  The next night was worse. Raven screamed at the top of his lungs until Alena couldn’t take it any longer and went in to him. “Ares! Ares!” she cried as she walked in the door and saw her three-month-old son standing at the rail of his crib, tears streaming down his chubby little cheeks. “Is that normal?”

  Expecting to see a puddle of blood on the floor by the sound of alarm in her voice, Ares was caught off guard at the sight of Raven standing in his crib. “It’s a bit advanced even for an Olympian,” he admitted to her. If he remembered Hera’s tales correctly, Ares stood at five months and was walking by six months. Eros had stood at six, flew at seven, and didn’t walk until he was over a year old. Finding flying easier than walking he had to be made to put his feet on the ground and then to put one foot in front of the other.