I Time-Traveled To Marry the God of War

Chapter 6: Ares and His Bride

I was instantly captivated by the raw beauty of Ares’s Palace. The fortress was arguably much simpler than the opulent palace Portia had called home back in Sparta. There were no meticulously manicured hedge mazes or perfectly sculpted artistic fountains. Instead, Ares’s domain was nestled deep within a cool, secluded valley, where endless fields of wildflowers were left to grow wild and thrive in their natural state.

I watched swarms of fat bumblebees flitting through the vibrant blooms, lazily sipping nectar. Just beyond the main palace grounds, a natural waterfall cascaded over the rocks, its crystal-clear water flowing down at a gentle, soothing pace. The river it fed was shallow and rocky, and I could clearly see nymphs—ethereal, fairy-like creatures—laughing and splashing playfully in the sparkling water.

The high-altitude sunlight was incredibly bright, but the dense canopy of ancient trees acted as a natural filter, keeping the entire valley comfortably shaded. Looking further out, I spotted several massive, open dirt fields clearly designed for sword training and dueling. Right at that moment, dozens of Ares’s seasoned warriors were sparring. The harsh, rhythmic clanging of swords and spears echoed through the valley, yet somehow, it blended in perfect harmony with the peaceful gurgling of the river.

No mortals were allowed to freely roam the sacred peaks of Olympus. Ares’s followers and elite soldiers were exclusively fellow Titans, demigods, nymphs, centaurs, and satyrs. According to Alastair, I was the absolute only human to set foot on this holy ground in nearly two hundred years.

“What are you thinking about, Princess of Sparta?” Alastair asked, tilting his head curiously as he caught me craning my neck in every direction, a faint smile playing on my lips.

“Am I actually going to stay here?” I asked, a genuine glimmer of excitement slipping into my voice. This sunlit sanctuary was a far cry from the gloomy, blood-soaked dungeon I had imagined the God of War living in.

“Yes, Princess Portia. We have already prepared a room for you,” Alastair replied with a warm, accommodating smile.

Honestly, ever since I had begun this bizarre journey with Ares’s followers, I’d been constantly surprised by how genuinely friendly and kind they were. I had initially pictured the Lord of Battle’s minions as a horde of savage barbarians or crude, unwashed pirates.

But Alastair himself, despite being decked out in heavy battle armor and carrying lethal weapons, was impeccably groomed, his dark hair and beard neatly trimmed. The rest of the entourage was just as presentable. I didn’t even catch a hint of foul body odor off the half-goat satyrs.

“All the satyrs who serve Lord Ares are castrated. It is the only way they can focus and work properly,” Alastair had casually explained earlier. He was surprisingly patient, always willing to answer my endless barrage of questions.

He had gone on to explain that fully intact male satyrs possessed an aggressively high sex drive. They would relentlessly chase down nymphs—or any passing human woman—just to mate. Apparently, satyrs could literally smell when a woman was fertile.

I had felt my face burn with embarrassment hearing that, mostly because Alastair had discussed the intimate biology of a woman’s body with an absolutely deadpan, neutral expression. The demigod was an open book about everything—except Ares's personality. He firmly considered gossiping about his divine master without permission to be the height of disrespect.

“My Lady, they will escort you to your chambers now,” Alastair announced, bowing slightly. A group of nymphs instantly glided over to me. They were all breathtakingly beautiful, draped in gossamer-thin, incredibly revealing clothing.

I furrowed my brow. Maybe running around half-naked was totally normal in ancient Greece, but seeing it up close still made me slightly uncomfortable. My mind flashed back to a mythological text I’d read for a role years ago: the God of War had once taken a nymph to his bed, fathering a child. Surrounded by a literal army of flawless immortals dressed in basically nothing, how could Ares not be tempted? Even if they weren't human, they were still undeniably gorgeous women.

I vastly preferred my new bedchambers to the heavy stone room I’d been trapped in back at the Palace of Sparta. It was massive, airy, and flooded with warm, golden light. Being an actress from New York, I was practically dependent on central air conditioning; I’d barely slept a wink that first stifling night I woke up trapped in Portia’s body. But the second I sank onto the plush mattress of my new bed, a perfect, magically generated coolness washed over my skin.

I didn’t know how they did it, but it seemed the gods truly possessed technology light-years ahead of ordinary mortals. Yet, these divine beings flat-out refused to share a scrap of that knowledge with humanity. Once again, a dark myth from the history books drifted into my mind.

It was the tragic tale of Prometheus, the rebel Titan who dared to share the secret of fire with mankind. For his mercy, Zeus punished him by chaining him to a jagged mountain peak for eternity, where giant eagles violently tore out and feasted on his liver. The King of the Gods wouldn’t even grant him the peace of death; he magically healed the Titan's wounds the moment he reached the brink, only for the vicious cycle of torture to begin all over again the next day.

My morbid daydreaming was abruptly cut short when the nymphs acting as my handmaidens ushered me into the adjoining bathing chamber. Taking up the center of the room was a massive sunken tub that looked more like a luxurious mini swimming pool, already filled to the brim with steaming, perfumed water.

With gentle, efficient hands, they helped peel away the travel-stained silks clinging to Portia’s flawless body. The exhausting journey up the mountain had left my borrowed muscles feeling stiff, aching, and deeply sore.

“Oh, thank god…” I murmured happily as I finally sank into the scalding water, submerging myself up to the waist. Back when I was hustling as an A-list actress in New York, this kind of drawn-out luxury was practically impossible. My grueling daily shooting schedule meant I rarely got more than a hurried, five-minute hot shower. I literally had to fight my management for months in advance just to book a three-day spa retreat.

And despite the endless tabloid rumors claiming I was secretly dating various Hollywood heartthrobs, they were always exactly that—just rumors. Jill Adelaide simply didn't have the time or energy to date. But now? Now that I had woken up in this ancient, mythical reality as Portia, my entire existence seemed to consist of long baths, decadent body treatments, and mandatory spa sessions. Forget finding a decent boyfriend in the city—I was literally being forced to marry a god.

“Where is my wife?”

I violently jolted in the water, splashing bubbles everywhere. Right in the middle of my peaceful daydream, a deep, booming male voice echoed through the chamber.

*It’s Ares! What the hell is he doing barging into an unmarried girl’s private bath?!* I screamed in absolute, frantic panic inside my head.

I snapped my head toward the nymphs tending to me, but their beautiful faces remained completely blank and serene. None of them made even the slightest move to stop the Lord of Battle from storming into my private quarters.

Pure reflex took over. I scrambled backward, sinking my entire body down into the water until it reached my chin, right as the heavy wooden doors to the bathing chamber swung wide open.

“Princess of Sparta. At last, we meet,” Ares greeted cheerfully, strolling into the steamy room without a single care in the world.

I completely froze, my jaw practically hitting the water. I couldn't believe this was happening. My heart hammered against my ribs; I was absolutely not mentally prepared to face the God of War while naked in a bathtub.

“Wh—what are you doing in here? We’re—we’re not even married yet!” I squeaked, my voice cracking in panic as I crossed my arms tightly over my chest beneath the water, desperately trying to shield Portia’s bare curves from his gaze.

“Huh?” Ares paused, tilting his head with a look of genuine confusion. “We are already husband and wife. The exact moment your father accepted my wedding gifts, you officially became mine.”

My mind raced, frantically trying to process ancient marital law. We hadn't even had a ceremony, let alone a reception! Then it hit me: Ares was an immortal deity. He probably skipped all the mortal pageantry just to keep his contact with humans to an absolute minimum. A transaction of gold was all it took.

I squeezed my eyes shut, completely unable to lift my head and look him in the eye. I was too utterly flustered and burning with embarrassment. If ancient law dictated we were married, that meant this towering, lethal god had every legal right to barge into my bath. Technically, Portia was already his property. I just prayed Ares would get bored and leave so I could finally get out of this water and put some clothes on.

“Why is your face turning so bright red?” Ares asked, stepping closer to the edge of the pool. “Is the water too hot? Tell the nymphs to fix it. Or, if you prefer, I can simply kill them if they’re making you uncomfortable.” He offered the casual threat of murder without a single ounce of guilt.

“No! God, no!” I gasped, horrified. “I’m just... embarrassed that you barged in so suddenly! Please, just... step outside for a moment. Give me a chance to get dressed properly before I formally greet you,” I pleaded, staring fiercely at the ripples in the water, not daring to look up at his face even though I could feel his massive presence looming right over the edge of the tub.

Ares let out a deep, booming laugh that vibrated through my chest.

“So, you are merely embarrassed?” he chuckled, the rich sound dripping with dark amusement. “Then by all means, little mortal, enjoy that embarrassment. You are going to be staying here for a very, very long time, and you will simply have to get used to me. I intend to teach you many things, Portia... *many* things.”

He was deliberately teasing me, and the sensual, mocking promise in his raspy voice made my cheeks burn so hot they felt like they were going to melt off my skull.