Chapter 833: Aphrodite is happy.
The entrance bell was still swaying softly when Persephone left the flower shop, but the sound had already lost importance. Outside, the street continued as normal, with people passing by the window, cars going on their way, and occasional customers looking at the flowers on display without imagining that, minutes earlier, a goddess of the Underworld had been threatened with death among pots of lilies and roses. In the back office, however, the tension did not disappear completely. It merely changed shape, ceasing to be direct confrontation and becoming something quieter, harder to ignore.
Vergil remained seated in the armchair, with Aphrodite still settled on his lap. She showed not the slightest intention of getting up. In fact, she seemed even more comfortable now that Persephone had gone, as if the absence of the other goddess allowed her to occupy that space without needing to compete with Olympian bad temper. Aphrodite rested her head against his chest, her fingers idly playing with the collar of his clothes, while Vergil watched the closed door with a thoughtful expression.
"You became far too serious," she said, without raising her face.
"I was serious before."
"You were protective before. Now you are thinking."
Vergil lowered his gaze to her. "Is there a difference?"
Aphrodite smiled against him. "With you, quite a lot."
He was silent for a few seconds, accepting that answer because he knew it was probably true. Aphrodite knew his mood shifts better than most. Perhaps even better than he would like. She noticed when his coldness was defense, when it was anger, when it was calculation, and when it was simply the exhaustion of someone who could not go a week without discovering a new threat trying to break the world.
Vergil slowly ran his fingers through her hair, undoing a small loose wave behind her ear. "I know how much you hate Olympus."
Aphrodite opened her eyes, but remained leaning against him.
"So I need to ask," he continued. "Will this alliance affect you?"
The question was simple, but Aphrodite understood everything behind it. Vergil was not only asking whether she would be irritated by the presence of Persephone, Hades, or any other ancient name circling her life again. He wanted to know whether agreeing to speak with the Greek Underworld would mean dragging her into a past she had deliberately abandoned. He wanted to know whether it would open wounds she preferred to keep closed. He wanted to know whether protecting several worlds of the dead would require him to hurt, unintentionally, the woman sitting on his lap.
Aphrodite snuggled closer against him.
"Fuck Olympus," she said, with an almost sweet tranquility.
Vergil raised an eyebrow slightly.
She smiled, now looking at him. "I am serious. Fuck Olympus, fuck the halls, fuck the intrigues, fuck Zeus, Hera, Ares, Demeter, and that whole family of beautiful, vain, emotionally defective bastards. I do not want that anymore. I do not want to go back to that. I do not want a place among them, or an excuse, or recognition, or theatrical revenge."
She touched his face with one hand, her eyes becoming softer despite the crude tone of her words.
"I only want you," she said. "My love."
Vergil did not answer immediately.
Aphrodite continued, lower. "I hated Olympus for a long time. I still hate many things. Some with reason, others perhaps out of habit. But I am tired of letting that place decide what I feel every day. If I can ignore a little of that hatred to love you a little more each day, then I will do it. Not because they deserve peace. But because I do."
Vergil’s hand remained in her hair.
This time, the gesture became slower.
Aphrodite closed her eyes for an instant, satisfied with the affection, but the silence told her he was still not completely convinced. Vergil accepted emotions, sometimes even better than before, but he remained someone who searched for risks in everything that touched his family. Aphrodite knew that if she only said everything was fine, he would keep thinking about it until he found some reason to worry.
He sighed softly. "I still want your opinion."
She opened her eyes again. "I just gave it."
"Without involving feelings."
Aphrodite looked at him for a few seconds, then let out a short laugh. "Do you realize you just asked the goddess of love to give an opinion without involving feelings?"
"Yes."
"You are a very inconvenient man."
"I know."
Aphrodite adjusted herself on his lap, now sitting a little more upright, though she still kept one hand resting on his chest. The smile diminished, replaced by an older, more lucid expression. Behind the florist, the woman in love, and the goddess tired of Olympus, there still existed someone who knew those names from the inside. She could hate them, but that did not mean she was incapable of judging them precisely.
"You do not need to worry about Persephone, Hades, and Thanatos the same way you would if it were Zeus or Ares," she said. "They are dangerous, of course. All of us are. But Hades was always different. Persephone too, even if she came in here acting like an idiot. Thanatos is... direct. Cold, sometimes unbearable, but honest within his own function."
Vergil held her gaze. "Do you trust them?"
"Trust is too strong a word for gods." Aphrodite tilted her head, thinking better. "But if the question is whether I believe Hades would offer the Helm of Darkness for some cheap little game, then no. He would not. The Helm is part of his authority, a Divine Weapon too ancient to be used as currency in a small lie. If he is offering that, it is because he is truly trapped, truly worried, or truly out of good options. Probably all three."
Vergil absorbed the answer in silence.
Aphrodite continued. "It is ironic, I know. They live tied to Tartarus, to the dead, to shadows, and to the things most gods pretend to consider impure. But among the Olympians, Hades tends to be one of the most honest. Persephone too, when she is not in a hurry or angry. Thanatos has no patience for social manipulation. He simply does what needs to be done."
She paused, and a trace of contempt returned to her voice.
"Zeus, Ares, Demeter, and the others are much worse."
Vergil watched the change in her face. "Demeter too?"
Aphrodite made a humorless sound. "Especially Demeter, depending on the subject. She can dress cruelty as maternal concern with irritating elegance. Ares is predictable, Zeus is a walking addiction dressed as a king, Hera turns pain into public punishment, Athena calls control wisdom, and Apollo manages to be unbearable even when he is right. Hades is not a saint. None of them are. But if he says Tartarus is sealed and that something tried to rupture the borders, I would take it seriously."
Vergil looked at the side wall of the office, where some shelves held ribbons, small vases, and message cards for bouquets. The contrast between that conversation and the setting remained absurd. Even so, there was something fitting about discussing gods there, among simple objects, far from the halls where everyone pretended greatness.
"Do you want me to take care of those idiot gods?" he asked.
Aphrodite blinked.
Then smiled faintly, as if the offer were strangely sweet and absurdly exaggerated at the same time. "No."
"Are you sure?"
"I am."
"You just listed several reasons."
"I listed them because you asked for my opinion without feelings." She touched his chin with her index finger. "With feelings, the answer would be much longer and contain more profanity."
Vergil kept looking at her, waiting.
Aphrodite breathed slowly. "The future is already silently reserving their deaths."
The sentence did not come out like a threat, nor like a grand prophecy. It came out like an old conclusion. Aphrodite did not seem satisfied, but she did not seem sad either. There was something almost tired in her voice, as if she had watched the gods of Olympus long enough to know that some falls did not need to be provoked. It was enough to wait for them to continue being who they were.
"They will fall because of themselves," she said. "Perhaps not today, perhaps not tomorrow, perhaps not in a beautiful way. But they will. Zeus does not know how to stop. Ares does not know how to think. Demeter does not know how to let go. Hera does not know how to forgive. And all of Olympus keeps pretending it is still the center of everything, even while the world changes around them. You do not need to kill them for me."
Vergil stroked her head, his fingers moving slowly through the soft strands. "I am happy you can set the hatred aside to make those observations."
Aphrodite closed her eyes, leaning into the touch. "Do not exaggerate. I set the hatred aside for about five minutes. Maybe seven."
"It is progress."
"It is a miracle."
"For you, yes."
She opened one eye and stared at him. "Careful."
Vergil did not smile, but his expression softened. His hand remained in her hair, and the gesture repeated with a calm that seemed to make the tension of the conversation lessen little by little. Aphrodite settled against his chest again, returning to her previous position, as if the political analysis had ended and she could reclaim the right to enjoy the moment.
"But you know what?" she said, her voice lower and satisfied. "I am happier that you called me your woman."
Vergil released a sigh.
Aphrodite smiled immediately, because that sigh was exactly the kind of reaction she had expected.
"You are going to talk about that for a long time, are you not?" he asked.
"Yes."
"I imagined."
"For years, perhaps."
"Aphrodite."
"Decades, if you keep reacting like this."
He looked at her with that expression far too serious for such a small conversation. "I only said the truth."
Aphrodite went still for an instant.
Her smile changed. It lost some of its teasing and gained something more genuine, warmer, more vulnerable than she usually allowed when speaking about her own heart. She raised one hand and touched his face, her thumb moving slowly along the line of his jaw.
"I know," she said. "That is why I liked it so much."
Vergil held her gaze.
For a few seconds, neither of them spoke. The flower shop continued operating on the other side of the door, full of freshly watered flowers, soft light, and the smell of damp earth. The world outside still had pantheons in crisis, Underworlds under attack, trapped gods, and an organization trying to create bridges between forbidden domains. All of that still existed.
But Aphrodite was on his lap, happy because of a simple phrase.
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