I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me - Chapter 619: Promise for Aphrodite

Chapter 619: Promise for Aphrodite

After leaving Demeter’s garden in that cascade of golden light, Nathan materialized back in the mortal realm—though not inside Rome itself, since he had already departed from the city.

He had chosen to manifest some distance outside Rome’s walls, in the vicinity of a nearby forest that provided both cover and privacy. The trees here were ancient, their thick trunks and overlapping canopy creating a natural shelter from prying eyes. Shafts of late afternoon sunlight pierced through gaps in the foliage, illuminating patches of undergrowth in golden columns that made the forest floor look almost sacred.

Nathan had already mentally reached out to Drakkias, summoning his draconic companion to this location. The magnificent beast wouldn’t take long to arrive.

Until then, there was nothing to do but wait in this peaceful isolation, gathering his thoughts after the intensity of his farewells.

He found a relatively clear spot beneath a particularly massive oak, its roots creating natural seats and its branches providing comfortable shade.

But the solitude didn’t last long.

Nathan smiled to himself even before she fully materialized, sensing the distinctive energy signature that could only belong to one particular goddess. The air shimmered and bent, reality accommodating divine presence with the reluctant flexibility of something being stretched beyond its normal parameters.

Aphrodite appeared before him with characteristic dramatic flair, her form solidifying from ethereal light into breathtaking physicality. She looked as impossibly beautiful as always—her pink hair catching the filtered sunlight and seeming to glow with internal radiance, her perfect features arranged in an expression of relief mixed with amusement, her white dress clinging to curves that had inspired countless works of art and driven mortals to madness throughout history.

“Looks like you’re finally leaving Rome,” she said. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d decided to settle here permanently and become some kind of eternal Roman advisor.”

“You do seem remarkably happy about my departure,” Nathan replied with amusement, leaning back against the oak’s sturdy trunk. “Should I be offended that you’re so eager to see me leave?”

“You bet I am happy,” Aphrodite declared emphatically, moving closer with fluid grace that made even simple walking look like choreographed dance. “Do you have any idea how tedious it’s been, following you around to these places? I had to spend time hanging around in Amun Ra’s territory, surrounded by that insufferably rigid pantheon with their obsession over proper order and ma’at and cosmic balance. Everything had to be so formal, so controlled, so devoid of passion or spontaneity.”

She wrinkled her nose in distaste at the memory.

“And then,” she continued, warming to her complaints, “I had to lurk around in one of Athena’s beloved cities. Do you understand what that’s like for me? It’s like being forced to stay inside your archenemy’s house—every moment filled with unspoken tension, surrounded by values and aesthetics that fundamentally oppose everything you represent. Wisdom and warfare everywhere I looked, rationality praised above emotion, strategic thinking valued over instinctive response. Absolutely insufferable.”

“I didn’t know Athena qualified as your archenemy,” Nathan replied, his tone light and teasing. “I thought you two had more of a professional rivalry thing going on—competing spheres of influence rather than genuine hatred.”

Aphrodite shrugged elegantly. ”

Archenemy was too strong a word clearly.

It’s not that she hated her personally.

But the way she saw the world, the way she handles things with such calculation and emotional detachment despite what she was… it grated and annoyed her. She hated that selfness nature of Athena basically.

Hera, on the other hand was definitely someone Aphrodite hated and Nathan was sure of that.

He simply smiled and shifted his position on the rock where he’d been standing, settling himself into a more comfortable seated position. The stone was sun-warmed and surprisingly smooth, worn by centuries of wind and rain into a natural chair.

Aphrodite joined him immediately, though she remained standing directly in front of him rather than sitting beside him.

“Now that you have Rome and Amun Ra on your side,” she said, her tone shifting into something more analytical despite the casual setting, “on top of Kastoria and Tenebria, I suppose you’re finally ready to take on the Light Empire directly. You’ve been building toward this confrontation for so long—assembling allies, securing territories, eliminating potential threats to your rear. The pieces are finally in position.”

“Kastoria isn’t really on my side yet,” Nathan corrected gently but firmly, needing her to understand the distinction. “Amaterasu is on my side—that’s not the same thing as having the entire nation’s support. Some negotiations will still need to happen before I can count Kastoria among my confirmed allies.”

He paused, organizing his thoughts about the complexity of that particular situation.

Actually Amaterasu probably could force Kastoria to fight for him against the Light Empire if he asked her to. She has the divine authority and the personal influence to simply command it. But doing so would create serious problems. Kastoria had maintained friendly terms with the Light Empire until now—not close allies perhaps, but certainly not enemies. Suddenly attacking an empire they’ve been peaceful with, for no apparent reason beyond their goddess’s command, would seem deeply suspicious to the general population.

On top of that asking them of allying with Tenebria, whom they were actively at war with very recently. The wounds from that conflict are still fresh, the hatred and distrust still raw. Asking Kastoria’s people to suddenly fight alongside their former enemies against their former friends would strain credibility to the breaking point. They would start doubting Amaterasu’s intentions, questioning whether she truly had their best interests at heart or whether she’s been compromised somehow.

Both Amaterasu and especially Kaguya had perfect reputations within Kastoria right now. Their people trust them absolutely, worship them with genuine devotion rather than mere obligation.

Nathan didn’t want to be responsible for damaging that trust, for introducing doubt and suspicion into a relationship that should remain pure.

What he wanted and needed was Kastoria to willingly take his side, to join this conflict because they understand why it’s necessary and believe in the cause, not because they were coerced by divine command.

Aphrodite had been watching him intently. A knowing smile slowly spread across her perfect features, carrying notes of affection and something that might have been pride.

She quickly read what he was thinking.

“I suppose Amaterasu has finally reached your heart then,” she said softly, the observation delivered without jealousy or resentment. “Truly reached it, I mean—not just earned your respect or physical desire, but genuine love that makes you consider her welfare above your own convenience.”

She gestured expressively as she continued.

Obviously, if Natha were approaching this purely strategically, he would simply have Amaterasu force Kastoria’s cooperation despite the potential complications. It would be faster, simpler, more efficient. But he was overthinking his actions, worrying about long-term consequences to Amaterasu’s reputation and her relationship with her people, specifically because he love her. Because he didn’t want to force her into difficult positions or damage something precious to her, even if doing so would serve your immediate goals.

“It’s been a while since she did,” Nathan admitted without hesitation or embarrassment.

Before Aphrodite could respond, Nathan reached out and grasped her arm gently but firmly, pulling her toward him.

Aphrodite didn’t resist in the slightest, allowing herself to be drawn forward until she tumbled gracefully onto his lap. Her considerable weight—or rather, the divine solidity that passed for weight in a goddess—settled against him comfortably. Her impressively large breasts, barely contained by the thin white fabric of her dress, pressed firmly against his chest, soft and warm and impossible to ignore.

“Like you did,” Nathan added, wrapping his arms around her waist and holding her close. ”

Aphrodite’s expression transformed at his words, vulnerability flickering across features usually dominated by confidence and playful seduction. Her hands came up to rest against his shoulders, fingers curling slightly into the fabric of his clothing.

“I suppose I should be grateful I was among the first to claim a place in your affections,” she said, attempting to maintain her usual light tone but not quite succeeding in hiding the genuine emotion beneath. “Especially with how rapidly you’re increasing the numbers of your women. At the rate you’re going, I’ll need a ledger just to keep track of everyone. And I’m absolutely certain there will be more goddesses joining your collection in the future—you seem to have a particular talent for attracting divine attention.”

Nathan smiled at her teasing.

He stared directly into her eyes, holding her gaze with intensity that made it impossible for her to look away.

“I promise you, Aphrodite—give me just a couple of years,” he said, his voice low. “After that, there won’t be any need for hiding from anyone. No more sneaking around, no more carefully concealing our connection, no more fear of what other gods might do if they discovered our relationship. I’ll be strong enough by then that even the mightiest Gods will think twice before threatening me or anyone I love.”

The ambition in that statement was real for Nathan, claiming he could reach a level of power that would make him effectively immune to divine retribution within mere years. But Nathan spoke with such absolute certainty that it was difficult to dismiss as empty boasting.

All the problems he was facing and would face, all the complications and dangers, could ultimately be resolved if he could just get stronger.

If he could reach a level approaching the strength of the ancient gods, attain power that makes even other deities hesitate before acting against him. Of course he knew it wasn’t not a simple matter—he couldn’t expect to match beings who have existed for thousands of years within a single year of training. That would be absurd.

But he was confident he could achieve it faster than most would think possible.

“I know,” Aphrodite replied softly, her smile carrying genuine warmth and affection even as something sad flickered in the depths of her eyes—an emotion Nathan caught immediately, having spent enough time with her to recognize even subtle shifts in her mood.

Before he could ask about that sadness, before he could press her to explain what was troubling her beneath the surface confidence, they both felt it simultaneously—a new presence manifesting nearby.

“You both seem to be enjoying yourselves quite a lot.”

The voice came from above, carrying across the clearing with crystal clarity despite being delivered at conversational volume.

Nathan’s gaze snapped upward immediately, tracking the source of that familiar voice.

She stood suspended in the air perhaps twenty feet above them.

Her long black hair cascaded down past her waist like a waterfall of midnight, each strand seeming to absorb rather than reflect the sunlight filtering through the canopy. Her silver eyes—so distinctive and striking—shone with an inner darkness that made them appear simultaneously beautiful and slightly dangerous, like moonlight on deep water concealing unknown depths.

She wore traditional Amun Ra garments that somehow managed to be both modest and alluring, the fine linen draped and pleated in ways that hinted at the perfect form beneath without revealing it outright. Golden jewelry adorned her wrists, neck, and ankles—not ostentatious, but clearly of divine quality, each piece probably containing more power than most mortal artifacts could dream of holding.

It was Isis.