Ares jolted awake, a sword sparking into being in his hand, only to forcibly relax his tensed muscles and banish the sword as he recognised the sound which had woken him. He twisted and looked down at Aphrodite, still asleep at his shoulder, her hair splayed out around her, crying perfect, crystalline tears and whimpering their son's name.

Ares sighed, moving to slide his palm over her cheek and then her shoulder, aware there was nothing he could offer, and that if he woke her it would offer no respite.

Because the Cupid/Psyche incident was totally a problem for Aphrodite. Sure. >.>