Percy Jackson: An Endless of All

Nimbus and I left the mortal man behind in the abandoned building and followed the divine scent through blood-soaked winds and whispers of dreams shattered by cannon fire. The land ahead reeked of war, bloodlust, and fury. The cries of mortals echoed in their dreams like cracked bells, singing the songs of fear and death. War, after all, is as much a part of humanity as love, desire, and dreams.

We walked through the battlefield, hidden—unseen by mortals, untouched by bullet or blade. The Dreaming cloaked us in shadow until we came to a place heavy with divine presence. I could feel him before I saw him. The God of War.

Ares.

And when I laid eyes on him, I froze.

There, standing in a mortal guise, was Henry. Yes, that Henry—the man I'd met in a London pub. The man I'd let fuck me into the mattress like a wild animal. The one who manhandled me so expertly, I didn't even care to sense for a sign of divinity at the time.

Now I knew why. And how careless of me. It won't happen again. I will not be fooled twice. This is what I get for thinking with my second head, then the one in my head.

That roughness… that hunger… that was Ares. No wonder he likes to fuck rough and hard, and practically has me begging at that time. Ugh...now I feel so stupid. I guess I forget at times that I am not mortal anymore. I need to keep my senses up at all times.

He stood there, smirking like a bastard with knowing eyes. he looked good and hot, but this line of thought is unnecessary now. I have my son to look for and get some answers from this battle manic.

"Lord Ares," I said as we met face-to-face.

"Woof. Yup. That's him," said Nimbus, tail flicking with distaste.

"Thank you, Nimbus. You've done enough. Return to the Dreaming. I'll handle this… alone," I said, patting his head.

"Woof. Yes, Master. Call me if you need to rip his balls off."

"I will," I said with a smile.

With a shimmer, Nimbus disappeared, leaving me alone with the war god.

Ares crossed his arms over his chest, muscles bulging under a black leather jacket. "Took you long enough, Dream."

"Ares… or should I say, Henry?" I replied, voice like ice.

He chuckled. "Either is fine."

"It's surprising I slept with you, but that's not why I'm here."

"You're looking for your wayward son," he said with a grin that dared me to strike him.

"Yes." My tone sharpened, laced with anger.

"Well…" Ares started, before I cut him off.

"Where. Is. My. Son," I said angrily.

Ares rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "About that… I might've lost him."

"You lost my son's head?" I snarled.

"Well, I was appreciating the marvelous battle happening nearby," he said, gesturing out toward the chaos. "Set the head down for just a moment so I could enjoy the carnage properly and… well, when I turned back, it was gone."

I stared at him. "You went through all that trouble—stealing from Naxos, deceiving your fellow gods, pissing off me—just to lose it?"

"Yeah," he said, unapologetically. "Basically."

"You're an idiot," I growled, eyes flashing like twin stars about to go supernova.

"I just set it down! I didn't think some mortal or demigod would swipe it." He shrugged. "Honestly, I only did it to provoke you. I wanted to get you mad enough to fight. I've been bored, Dream. No good wars lately. Needed something to get the godly blood pumping."

"You could've just asked me directly, and I'd have been happy to beat your ass into the mud."

Ares smirked wider. "Well… now I know."

I took a deep breath through my nose. "Are you going to help me find him?"

"Nope," he said without hesitation. "But I'm still interested in a battle with you. Either with fists… or with that huge bubble butt of yours."

I blinked slowly. "You're seriously asking for sex… after you lost my son's immortal head?"

"Yes," he said, utterly serious.

The look I gave him could've scorched Mount Olympus clean off the map.

"Oh, don't pretend you didn't love it. You were practically begging for my cock back in London."

"Not the time, Ares," I snapped, turning away. I had no more patience left for his nonsense. My son was still missing, and now I had to start the search all over again—with more questions and even fewer answers.

As I walked off into the drifting smoke and thunder of distant cannonfire, Ares called after me:

"Think about it, Dream! A good fight! Or a good fuck! Either way, I'm game!"

I didn't reply.

But one day soon, he was going to learn that not even war can stand against Dream when he's mourning.