They had been lovers a long time. A sweeping history of romance and intrigue was theirs to reflect upon, which she did with quiet anguish.
Jacques-Louis David, Mars Being Disarmed by Venus
At first, as it is with many great love stories, he worshiped her on the couch that was her husband’s.
Brought her sweet presents.
Surrendered his armour for the grace of her arms.
Chose the succulence of Love instead of War.
Chose the succulence of her above all else.
They were delicately balanced and complete. The He and She of their lives was perfect.
But warriors, as he was, are also enraptured of hard edges. Hopelessly tangled in the web of struggle. They must fight.
He must fight.
Soon he was lost to her delicious curves.
Soon he was redressed in his armour. When he came to her couch at night the armour stayed in place.
She could not feel his skin.
The Battle became his lover and the Battle would not let him rest.
She could see through the slits of his closed visor that he was resigned to exhaustion. He would not allow her melody to lull him.
Where she was once plump and joyful there now lived a dry river bed.
It was at this point in her life, tiptoeing on the edge of hopelessness, that she felt who she was.
Her love of herself flooded in and her love of him, as he was a part of her.
She would not let the Battle take the Love.
The Battle would ALWAYS be there and she finally felt who was really in charge.
Not the Battle, not the struggle of life, and not her lover – Mars, she was the General.
Summoning her powers of seduction, her innate knowing of sweet rejuvenation, and her will to have Love above all else – when Mars returned that night he had no hope of resistance.
Venus carried him off of his stead, bedraggled in his muddy armour, and took him straight to her bed. A couch is no place for real Love.
There he was washed with silky rose scented water and her fingertips.
There his wounds were tenderly healed.
There he rested in her lovely arms, deeply.
She kept him there for days, wrapped in her ways.
When he felt called to the Battle she looked into his heart and said, “Not yet, my love, not yet.”
Venus continued to cradle the weary warrior.
It was not until one sparkling morning when Mars awoke with a bright desire, not tinged with feelings of obligation, that she knew he was ready to return to the Battle.
Now his Battle, his Mission, would be met with a heart full of love.
Now he would fight the right fight instead of engaging whatever War was set before him.
Now he would come home every night to be seduced into beauty and rejuvenation.
Again they were balanced between the masculine right to struggle for Victory and the feminine right to fill the cup with sweet sweet Love.
Venus and Mars live within you.
Seduce the warrior.
It is the only way.