Ambrosia Lane 1-3: Saranna DeWylde

by Desperate Housewives of Olympus

  “Yes, yes, and more yes. I’ve decided I’m not on board with this whole friendzone thing. I want the dragon.” She would have stomped her foot if she’d been standing.

  “Aphrodite, you’re trying too hard.”

  “Excuse me?” Love wouldn’t be denied. And Aphrodite didn’t care much for how it felt either. Rather like when Morgan told her that Ares just wasn’t that into her.

  He laughed. “Look, if you were just another goddess looking to get back at her ex, I’d have no problem giving you exactly what you want. But I’m not putting my heart on the line when yours isn’t.”

  “How do you know it’s not?” Aphrodite said, looking at his mouth and thinking about kissing him.

  “Because you’re still trying to punish Ares.”

  “No, I’m not. He’s supposed to end up with Morrigan. I’ve accepted that. My power, my goddesshood, it won’t let me do anything else.”

  “But what about your heart? Everyone has heard the tales of Aphrodite and Ares. I mean, you’re still pissed about The War That Cannot Be Named. If you were over him, you’d be able to let go of that.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I could make you, you know.”

  He eased Aphrodite to her feet, his arms still wrapped around her. “You won’t.”

  “How do you know I won’t?” She rested her palms on his shoulders and of their own volition, her fingers traced the outline of the dragon. It shifted under his skin, and Aphrodite shivered.

  “Because you didn’t do it to Ares after millennia.”

  “Maybe I learned my lesson.” She wouldn’t, but she didn’t like being predictable.

  He closed his eyes and held himself still as she continued to explore the shifting planes of his body.

  “What did you say about using love as a weapon? And that’s what you’d be doing. You’d be using me to hurt Ares and to soothe your wounded ego.”

  Damn. He was right.

  “I can’t argue with that, but doesn’t this feel good?”

  “If we did everything that felt good, then where would we be?” His voice was light and teasing, but when he opened his eyes and looked at her, she saw a wealth of sorrow.

  And Aphrodite, for all of her plans and plotting, her short temper and smiting, she was a forgiving creature. Because Love forgives. Love is kind. She couldn’t bear to add to his pain. Especially not when he was so unlike any of the other gods she knew.

  “I’m sorry.” She dropped her hands to her sides. “I don’t want to hurt you. That was never my intention.”

  He didn’t release her. “I know.” His skin continued to shift as the dragon inside of him clawed toward the surface, sought out her touch. It spoke to her almost as clearly as Aeron himself. It projected its needs and wants into her brain like an oil painting. It wanted the same thing Aphrodite did, to be lost in sensation, touch and pleasure. But it wanted her for forever, not just for tonight.

  Aeron laughed uncomfortably. Then his eyes narrowed as some awareness washed over him. “What did you intend to do?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The island has been in an uproar since you got here, Aphrodite. There’s power zinging everywhere and everything is falling apart. As soon as you got here, Lance left Gwen, Arthur made it an actual crime for the market to run out of gelato, Morgan, your friend, became Lady of the Lake after you cursed Vivienne. And now you’re chasing me and pretending you want me more than Ares. Is that to keep me distracted while you wreak havoc on my island?”

  Aphrodite blinked. “Have you lost your mind?” Her tone wasn’t one of incredulity, but of genuine concern.

  “I’m a war god. Did you think I wouldn’t see what you were up to? Strategy is my bread and butter.”

  The goddess arched a brow. “Perhaps you don’t remember our discussion in the meadow. You sought me out, not the other way around. I was in the middle of dealing with Vivienne because she trespassed in my realm. I agreed to your request because it was the right thing to do. Not because I’m afraid of you. And that would be the only reason I’d try to manage you with sex.” She sighed. “You’re more like Ares than I thought. You war gods are all the same. Nothing can simply be what it is. There’s always some ulterior motive.”

  She turned away from him.

  “That’s because there always is an ulterior motive.” He grabbed her arm again. “Admit that you just wanted to piss Ares off.”

  “Of course I did. That’s what we do, but I told you, I’d finished with that. And I understand why you don’t believe me. We’ve already beat this to death and I get it. But now you’re accusing me of manipulating you for…for what, exactly?”

  “To move Morgan to the seat of power. To take everything away from Vivienne because she pissed you off. Everyone knows the story of the golden apples and what happened to the men who didn’t choose you.”

  Aphrodite’s mouth fell open. “Are you serious? Morgan is the Lady of the Lake because that’s what the magick of Avalon decreed. She was always Vivienne’s heir. Arthur made it illegal for the market to run out of gelato because Gwen loves gelato. He’s never stopped loving her. And she didn’t realize she loved him until now. Vivienne has learned her lesson and now she’s fighting for her happy ever after. Yes, sometimes my presence can exacerbate matters of love, but I’ve done nothing wrong. All I’ve done is try to take a vacation and figure out my own life. And I’ve learned a few things.”

  “What have you learned?”

  “That I should never date war gods. Because on the surface, no matter how polite they are, how charming, how funny, deep inside, they aren’t more than their office. You say that War and Slaughter are not you, that they’re just part of your job, but you see subterfuge where there is none. Just like Ares. Just like all the other war gods that I’ve known.”

  “You’re not perfect, Aphrodite. Have you ever stopped to consider that War does have its place, just like Love?”

  “That’s where you’re wrong.” She jerked away from him, her power singing him as she went.

  “Now you’re just angry I’ve turned you down. What are you going to do? Smite all of Avalon?” he said quietly.

  She stared at him hard for a long moment. “You don’t know me or Love at all.” Aphrodite willed herself to appear back at her cottage. She was ready to go home. She’d had enough of this “vacation” and Avalon.

  Aphrodite started packing, zapping things back to her house on Olympus.

  A deep voice rumbled from the doorway. “Finally coming to your senses?”

  She looked up and saw Ares standing there. Aphrodite didn’t have it in her to go another round with him. She was tired of fighting. Tired of wanting something that didn’t belong to her.

  She’d had enough.

  Aphrodite sat down on the bed. “Yes, I think I have.”

  But he didn’t say anything smug. He surprised her. He sat down on the bed next to her and he put his arm around her.

  “I never wanted you to be hurt.”

  “I know.” And she did. Ares had never been malicious. Win at any cost, yes. But he never set out to hurt her because he’d never believed she could be hurt. He’d accepted her as his equal in all ways. She supposed that should’ve been a comfort to her.

  “Are you hurt?”

  His warmth was comforting and familiar—part of her wanted to lean into him and forget everything that had happened these past few days. But she couldn’t do that. She’d seen his future and it wasn’t with her.

  “My pride, maybe.” That was a teensy, tiny lie. Her heart hurt. But being Love, she knew it wouldn’t be forever.

  “What can I do? Should I kill him? I can, you know.”

  She rewarded him with a small laugh. “No. But here’s what you can do. Don’t come see me—”

  “Are we back to this?” He wasn’t moaning and groaning, or chiding her. It was a serious question.

  “It’s where we need to be. I wasn’t kidding when I said I looked. Your future is with
Morrigan. Not me.”

  He snorted. “Mori? Not likely. She’s like me if I had a vagina. If I wanted to date myself, I would.”

  “You haven’t looked close enough. Of course she’s like you. She’s a goddess of war. But she’s also the Goddess of Hearth. She has a woman’s softness, a woman’s wants and needs. She just doesn’t show them to you because they’re soft and vulnerable, and you’re nothing if not a tactician.”

  He exhaled heavily. “I don’t want her.” He said this slowly, as if that’s all it would take to make Aphrodite understand.

  “Maybe not now, but you will. And when you do,” she paused, choking back emotion. “Know that you join with her with my blessing.” Aphrodite pulled away from him and fought to keep from wrapping her arms around him and clinging not only to Ares, but to her past, to what she knew was safe.

  “You mean this,” he said, surprised.

  “Please go now.”

  “Don’t ask me not to never see you again. I couldn’t stand it. Whether you want to be or not, you’re a part of me, and I’m part of you.”

  It was the nicest, most romantic thing he’d ever said to her. Too bad it had to come at the end, rather than the beginning.

  “That won’t change. You’re the father of my children, Ares. I’ll always love you. But we don’t belong together. Give me, and yourself time to heal. Maybe we can have brunch in a hundred years or something.” She had to fight not to cry.

  She thought of Gwen and how she hadn’t had sex or love in the last hundred years and Aphrodite thought her future looked awfully fucking bleak at the moment.

  “I do love you, Aphrodite. I know you never believed that.” His weight pushing down the bed next to her seemed like the heaviest thing in the cosmos.

  “I know. But you’re not in love with me. Maybe you were once when we were godlings.”

  “I don’t want to leave. I know when I walk out the door, it’s done. We’ve never been able to be done.”

  She laughed and it was a tinny sound.

  “Maybe you could throw something at me for old time’s sake?”

  “You know if I do that, we’ll end up in bed.”

  “Well, technically, we’re already in bed,” he teased.

  Zeus, why did this have to be so hard? She sniffed. “Please, just…please.”

  Then the weight was gone, as was Ares, and the life she’d always thought she’d have. Aphrodite didn’t want to cry, she knew it was for the best for both of them, but she couldn’t help mourning the loss of what she thought had been her Happily Ever After.

  25

  VIVIENNE

  A fter Morgan left, Vivienne had just managed to compose herself when Hector appeared as promised, hauling her recalcitrant son with him.

  Lance looked back and forth between them and arched a brow. “Really?”

  “Really what?” She put her hands on her hips, as if she didn’t know exactly what.

  “I was going to tell you, but I thought you had enough on your plate.” Hector shrugged, unabashed. “You’re my best friend, Lance. So keep a civil tongue in your head. I don’t want to have to kick your ass.”

  Lance sighed. “I haven’t been training, so you probably could.”

  “Probably?” Hector snorted. “I know I could.”

  “You were always the better choice for the noble knight schtick.”

  “And you were the spoiled son, so spoiled and indulged, he never learned what love is,” Vivienne said softly.

  “Vivienne—” Lance began.

  “Maybe today, you could call me mother?” She asked carefully.

  “Look, I’ve already had a bad day.”

  “I know. Morgan’s been to see me.”

  “And you’re taking me to task for upsetting your perfect, precious Morgan?” He crossed his arms over his chest.

  Vivienne eyed him. She really wanted to smack him in the back of the head. “Hector, can you give us a moment. We’ll be fine.”

  Hector nodded and went inside her cottage.

  “You’re my mother. I don’t need that guy telling me whether I can or can’t talk to you,” Lance growled.

  “That guy? He’s your best friend.”

  “And you’re sleeping with him. So he’s now that guy.”

  “Yes, I am. But that’s not why we’re here.”

  “Right. Morgan. The new Lady of the Lake,” he sneered.

  “Name something you wanted that I didn’t give you,” Vivienne demanded.

  “Your love. I wanted you to put me before Avalon. Just once.”

  She sighed. It was long, drawn out, and much put upon. “I didn’t kill Guinevere.”

  “That’s because I wouldn’t let you.”

  “Do you really think a knight, even one so blessed and Avalon born as yourself, could stop the magick of the Lady of the Lake? The oracle said it was supposed to happen the same way the stories say it did happen. You were supposed to save her, but only to take her to a monastery. You were supposed to end up with Morgan. Do you have any idea how angry I was when you showed up dragging Guinevere’s whey-face behind you?”

  “I’d say the lightning bolt to the back of the head adequately expressed your feelings.”

  “And I could have incinerated her then. I could have incinerated her when she was tied to the stake. The people of Camelot would’ve thought it was a righteous act of their new god. But I didn’t. Because you loved her. At every turn, you thwarted me and Avalon, and at every turn, I chose you. My son.”

  “You wanted Arthur.” Lance looked down at the ground.

  “Yes, I did. I don’t deny that. And for the longest time, I felt so much guilt for everything I’d done. But I did the best I could with the resources I had.” Vivienne exhaled heavily, and with the expulsion of air came the expulsion of guilt. She spoke of it, and it was like blowing out a candle.

  “Why couldn’t you just have been my mother?” He spoke slowly, his voice full of emotion.

  “Because I’m not. There is more to me, to any woman, than simply Lancelot’s mother. Guinevere was more than just the king’s wife. And Morgan is more than simply Lancelot’s woman.” She grabbed her son’s face firmly between her hands and forced him to look up at her. “That doesn’t mean that being your mother isn’t the thing I’m most grateful for, the most proud of, or that I don’t love you more than the breath in my body. I would die for you, kill for you, and live for you, but I am a person that exists outside of your control. We all are. The same as you are more than a champion. You are a man. You have a heart, a mind, and a soul. You must become what you were meant to become.”

  Lance looked as if she’d slapped him. “I’m an asshole. That’s what I’ve become.”

  Vivienne smiled. “I’m glad you see that. But no, there’s more. You’re more. Don’t forget the good things. You were a Knight of the Round Table, the Queen’s Champion, you were the ideal. Your imperfections make you human, Lancelot.”

  He grimaced. “They make me unworthy. For so long, I was so pissed that everyone kept trying to make me out to be some hero and I’m not. I never was. And that cut so deep, I just stayed angry. At everyone. You, Arthur, Gwen… and Morgan. Especially Morgan. I don’t deserve her. Especially not after how I treated her. The things I’ve said, not just today, but over centuries.” His broad shoulders slumped.

  Vivienne couldn’t help but laugh. Not at her son’s pain, never that. But that his very thinking made him all those things he thought he wasn’t. “Do you think heroes ever know they’re heroes? They shouldn’t. That’s when they’ll find they’re the villains of the story. You’ve made mistakes, we all have. But you’re not a villain.” She wrapped her arms around her son carefully, hopefully. He hadn’t let her embrace him in years. Vivienne remembered holding him as a baby, his sweet apple-baby smell like all Avalon born, his sunshine curls on top of his head that tickled her nose, and the wonder that she’d created such a gloriously perfect creature. “And you do most definitely deserve Morgan, and s
he deserves you.”

  His arms tightened around her. “I’m sorry.”

  “Me too. I love you, Lance. I always have. More than anything.”

  “I’m not calling Hector dad,” he mumbled against her hair.

  Vivienne laughed and fought her tears. He’d forgiven her.

  “But I love you, Mom. I will make all of this right. I will.”

  “I know.”

  He hugged her a little tighter. “How do you know?”

  “Because you’re Lancelot du Lac, my son, and knight in shining armor.” Vivienne didn’t want to break the hug, but she did. She stepped back from the man her son had become and smiled. “There is a new Lady of the Lake with no champion. You better get going so you can fix that.”

  “She said she doesn’t need a champion.”

  “Maybe not, but you’ll be her champion anyway.” Vivienne thought of Hector, of all he’d done for her when she’d been so sure she didn’t need him.

  “If I’m supposed to respect that she’s more than my woman, how can I demand to be her champion?”

  Vivienne smiled brighter. “You’ll see. Make the gesture, Lance. And it will all come together.” She pursed her lips as the smile faded. “That is, if you feel it. Only if you feel it.”

  “I used to think she’d cast some kind of spell on me.” He looked ashamed. “But I do feel it. I have for a long time.” He sighed. “I’ve always been the one who had to be strong and I’m terrified of her strength. Gwen needed me, and Morgan, she doesn’t need me. She doesn’t need anyone or anything. She’s like a tsunami.”

  “She doesn’t need you, but she wants you and that’s so much better.”

  “I really hope so. Hector said she’d been here. Do you know where she went?”

  “To the orchards.”

  Lance didn’t even say goodbye, he just took off running.

  “I can come out now?” Hector emerged from her cottage, drinking an apple ale.

  “Yes. Thank you for getting him to come see me. We haven’t spoken like that in so long.” Vivienne marveled at how much more confident she was now that she wasn’t the Lady of the Lake.