Laughter filled the hall.
It wasn't forced, or polite, or ceremonial—it was warm, overlapping, alive.
Alexander sat at the center, sleeves rolled, cup in hand, listening more than speaking. Around him were women who could shake universes if they wished, yet in this moment were simply themselves.
Retsu teased Scáthach about her training methods.
Morgan and Ciel debated spell optimization.
Jeanne and Sif laughed over a sparring rematch.
Amora pretended not to pout while Lorelei clearly enjoyed it.
Infinity leaned against Death's shoulder, fingers lazily tracing concepts only they understood.
Galacta animatedly explained something cosmic while Hela listened with a rare, soft smile.
Aria, Bela, and Aisha whispered together, glancing at Alexander far more than they realized.
And then—
Alexander paused.
He tilted his head slightly, eyes unfocusing for just a moment.
A familiar presence brushed his senses.
"…Ah," he said quietly.
He smiled.
"I'll be back."
Nothing dramatic. No tension. Just calm certainty.
He stood, gave a small wave, and stepped through space itself—gone.
The Silence After
For half a heartbeat, no one spoke.
Then—
"Where did he go?" Hera asked.
Her voice was casual.
Too casual.
Aphrodite noticed.
Morgan answered first, unfazed.
"He leaves every decade or so."
Hera turned. "To where?"
Morgan shrugged lightly.
"We asked. Many times."
Scáthach smirked.
"He never tells."
Hera frowned slightly. "Is he… meeting someone?"
The room went still.
Not tense—just attentive.
Every woman there turned to look at her.
Then—
They all shook their heads.
"No," Retsu said gently.
"Definitely not," Jeanne added.
Infinity smiled faintly, eyes distant.
"It's… different."
"A secret," Infinity continued, glancing at Hera and Aphrodite, "but not one that excludes you."
Aphrodite crossed her arms.
"Then when will we know?"
"When he wants to tell you," Infinity replied.
She paused.
"Which means… when he trusts you enough."
Death met Hera's gaze.
And nodded.
Ciel nodded as well.
So did Galacta.
So did Hela.
So did every woman present.
Hera's breath caught.
Not from jealousy.
From something far worse.
Want.
Realization
Later that night, Hera stood alone beneath Asgard's sky.
Aphrodite joined her, arms folded, gaze distant.
Neither spoke at first.
"…It's not desire," Hera said finally.
Aphrodite blinked.
Hera clenched her fingers.
"It's not fear. Or dependency."
She exhaled shakily.
"It's respect."
Aphrodite swallowed.
"He doesn't need us," Aphrodite whispered.
"And that makes me want him more than anyone ever has."
Hera laughed softly—broken, almost incredulous.
"Zeus wanted to own me."
Her voice hardened.
"Alexander doesn't even try."
Silence.
Then Aphrodite spoke again, quieter.
"I watched him listen to Aisha today. Really listen. No impatience. No judgment."
She looked at Hera.
"When was the last time anyone listened to us like that?"
Hera didn't answer.
She didn't need to.
The Truth Settles In
They weren't special to him.
And somehow—
That made him special to them.
No manipulation.
No pursuit.
No expectation.
Just presence.
Choice.
Freedom.
Hera pressed a hand to her chest.
"…I think I'm afraid."
Aphrodite nodded slowly.
"So am I."
They both understood why.
Because this time—
If they confessed—
And he said no—
He wouldn't be cruel.
And that terrified them more than rejection ever had.
Far away, beyond space and concept, Alexander sat with TOAA, unaware that two goddesses were finally learning what it meant to fall—not into obsession, not into worship—
But into something honest.