"You was my key,"

Ares parked his motorbike outside of the cute cake shop. He ran his fingers through his bronze tipped hair, the thick locks spilling over his eyes, and donned a pair of sunglasses before striding confidently into the cake shop. Last time they'd seen him, he'd been injured. He'd lost serious dignity points by allowing them to dump him in a cupboard. Today, he was determined to seem impressive and recover his image.

"Zorg!" Jaz greeted from behind the cash register. The flamboyant owner of the cake shop was wearing a Hawaiian shirt combined with bright clashing shorts and flip flops. Jaz's hair was tied back in a bun, a silver streak partially hidden by a pink hair clip. He'd left his shirt unbuttoned, revealing a tanned torso and the cheeky glimpse of a tattoo. "You look much better. How was the moon?"

Ares smiled charmingly.

"Still where I left it."

Ares glanced around the shop. They were busier today. "Can we have a word in private?"

"Sure."

Jaz gestured for Markus to cover the till for him before leading Ares to the back room. As they walked through the cafe, Ares kept looking around for Sage but he couldn't see her.

They entered Jaz's 'office' – which was smaller than the cupboard they'd used last time. Jaz attempted to make space for Ares to sit down but accidentally caused a paper avalanche.

"Sodding Markus leaving crap everywhere..." He muttered.

"Interesting tattoo," Ares mused – his gaze on Jaz's waist. Jaz's shirt had flapped back to reveal more of his slender build.

"Thanks." Jaz dumped a stack of paperwork on the floor and gestured for Ares to sit down on a rickety chair.

"Greek."

"Huh?"

"The tattoo, it's Greek."

Jaz nodded, but made no other reply.

Ares' expression was thoughtful. "The paintings in the shop – who did them?"

"I did, I like to paint in my spare time. I practised in here first." Jaz gestured to the walls. Ares had noticed, especially the paintings of Eros in human form. The resemblance was uncanny...

Ares reached into his bag.

"I'm grateful for your help the other day." He pulled out a cheque book. Jaz didn't hesitate and leant forward eagerly.

"Jasper Bellegrade," he offered – spelling out 'Bellegrade'. He watched over Ares' shoulder to see how much the cheque was worth and whistled appreciatively.

Before handing it over, Ares fixed Jaz with a stern look.

"If anyone asks you-"

"I have nothing to tell them." Jaz interrupted, smiling reassuringly. "You've come here for cake - like everybody else."

Ares nodded and Jaz pocketed the cheque. "I like you, Zorg." He commented brightly.

Ares didn't return the sentiment. He didn't trust this man. The silver in Jaz's hair and stubble didn't match his fresh face. He wasn't curious enough. He was too calm about this whole encounter. Ares' suspicions were piqued. What secrets was this mortal hiding?

But Ares didn't voice any of this, he followed Jaz back into the café – his expression subdued.

"Where's your friend?" He asked – referring to Sage.

"On her lunch break I think, she's probably done now."

They returned to the main part of the café and Ares spotted Sage cleaning tables. He watched her for a moment, noticing how the light caught her curly hair – making it shine. For a mortal she really was remarkably pretty. Perhaps she had some nymph blood in her ancestry? He weaved between the tables, heading for her. Sage's spine stiffened as he approached and she turned to face him – her expression guarded.

Ares tried to understand her expression. Was it fear that he saw in her eyes? That made sense – she'd seen enough to suspect that he wasn't human.

"I returned, as I promised," he spoke softly – not wanting to scare her. Sage's gaze flickered around the café. She felt a little reassured to have so many eyes around them. "Can we talk in private."

"No."

Ares' mouth twitched.

"I want to thank you for saving me."

"You've thanked me." It took a lot of courage for her to turn her back on him, but Sage did – returning to wiping tables. Inside, she was a riot of confusion. She had questions, she had so many questions that she was kicking herself for not asking them. But fear was winning over curiosity. She'd rather not know anything and end this encounter – immediately.

"If you asked me nicely, I might give you a gift from the stars."

Sage spun around. She had a hand out between them – as if ready to fend him off. She wanted to ask 'what are you' – but instead her mouth blurted out –

"Who are you?"

"I have a few names." They'd changed over time – with the passing of thousands of years. "My mother named me Enyalius but more people now call me Ares." His gaze flickered about to the paintings on the wall. How familiar was she with the old gods?

"You have a mother?"

Ares nodded. Sage considered this. It made him a little less frightening, to think that – whatever he was – he at least had parents like humans did. "I don't want a gift from the stars."

Ares nodded. Sage considered this. It made him a little less frightening, to think that – whatever he was – he at least had parents like humans did. "I don't want a gift from the stars."

"What do you want?" His intense gaze seemed to be trying to penetrate her mind and Sage flinched. It was more what she didn't want. She didn't want to die – she didn't want to get sucked into an alien invasion or a government cover up.

"I want to say goodbye."

Ares watched her walk away, blinking in surprise. He shook his head – laughing in disbelief. Stupid human – rejecting the offers of a god. Amused by her foolishness, he left the café – his lips curled up in an amused smirk. But he paused on the pavement, looking back through the café window. Sage was obstinately cleaning – her back to him.

'You have a mother?' Her surprising question circled in his head. Yes, he had a mother. A mother he missed. A mother he feared that he might never see again. Would she forget him? Would Hephaestus replace him?

Loneliness ripped through Ares. He stared at Sage, watching her hand rest on her own aching chest – mirroring his posture. A dark aura surrounded the pretty little waitress – an aura that matched his own. The same loneliness. Ares gasped, his eyes flashing bright smouldering gold.

Fate.

Ares used his powers, confirming his suspicions. Fate had chained a link between him and the mortal. That was why he felt drawn to her. Ares' lips pulled back away from his teeth and he growled. He was the god of war – how dare the fates play with him.

Sophia shrieked, her hands covering her mouth as she stared at the broken glass shards scattered across the ground.

"I don't understand..." She stammered – scared. She'd never seen Ares look like this. It was like he was flickering, in and out of existence – the lines of his face blurring so that he was half melted with the shadows. "Please, don't-" She begged but he cut her off – his hand gripping around her throat.

He's not human, he can't be human...

And there were other thoughts chasing around her mind now.

She had so many blank spots, almost entire days that she couldn't remember. She always did everything this man asked her, but why? Why did she let him live with her? Why did she bend and stoop like a slave for him? Fear made tears brim from her eyes, sliding down her face.

"I need to speak to the fates. But they won't talk with me." Ares' breath fanned over Sophia's face and she whimpered. He smelt like death – like an open grave and a corpse wriggling with worms. "Let's see what they do when I send them you."

She couldn't breathe. He was choking her, his grip tightening around her throat. She clawed at him, rasping. She didn't want to die – she didn't want to...

The sounds of drums filled her head. Drums and gunfire – men screaming, horses, sword clashing. The sounds of war.

Ares smiled darkly. Glancing up, he watched the hands on the clock - stop. The sounds of traffic vanished and Sophia froze, her hair caught in place from her thrashing about. Time had stopped.

"It's not her time to die, is it?" He spoke out loud, mockingly. He knew that it wasn't. Sophia's cursed bloodline had another 1000 years of servitude to the gods. Until Sophia had a child to continue the line, she couldn't die – not without pissing off the fates.

"It's not her time to die, is it?" He spoke out loud, mockingly. He knew that it wasn't. Sophia's cursed bloodline had another 1000 years of servitude to the gods. Until Sophia had a child to continue the line, she couldn't die – not without pissing off the fates.

The war god should be careful who he disrespects, rasped an elderly voice – speaking to Ares in his mind. Are recognised that voice. It was Clotho, the spinner.

"You've spun me a fate."

Even the gods must have fates written. Your grandfather couldn't escape his... you are no different, war god.

Ares growled. His grandfather's fate had been to be murdered by his own children. The Fates were cruel demons – they'd denied the Titan the chance of a family. Cronus had killed the children he'd rather have raised and loved, in an effort to prevent that grim fate. But the Fates had won.

Ares growled. His grandfather's fate had been to be murdered by his own children. The Fates were cruel demons – they'd denied the Titan the chance of a family. Cronus had killed the children he'd rather have raised and loved, in an effort to prevent that grim fate. But the Fates had won.

"I will not be a puppet in your games!"

You need to learn your place, war god.

"What is my fate with that mortal? Tell me! Tell me!"

She shall give the war god the glory that he needs, to return home.

Time resumed and Ares recoiled, letting go of Sophia's throat. He clamped his hands over his ears – temporarily stunned by the sudden return of noise. Machines, cars, horns, wind, birds – all of it was a din thundering around his head.

Sophia crumpled to the ground. Spluttering for breath, she crawled as fast as she could – trying to get to the door. If she could just make it outside, she could cry out for help. She slumped suddenly, her arms and legs not obeying her.

Forget, her gaze went out of focus.

She blinked sleepily before coming too and scratched her head – wondering why she was on the floor.

"Ares?" Sophia smiled, recognising him standing over her. He offered her his hand and helped her to her feet.

"You fainted," he told her. Sophia nodded, yes – that must be what happened.

Ares smiled down at her but his thoughts were elsewhere. He didn't understand the Fates words – how could a waitress help him? But he trusted their powers. The Fates would be right, they always were. Which meant that Sage was the key to him returning to Olympus - and to his throne.

"Why did you come over, Ares?" Sophia asked, her voice hoarse.

"I needed a favour from you." He patted her head. "You were very useful."