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mythologyfolklore · 5 years ago

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Ares and Athena through the years - Ch. 09

Chapter Nine: The Trojan War, Pt. 01

(A/N: This is basically the Iliad, but from the gods' POV. The gods meddling with human affairs, just as they please and Zeus being a puppet master for funsies, because he's Zeus.

If my writing looks a bit differently at some parts, it's because I transcribed them from my German edition translation of the Iliad. Now, the Iliad is one monster of a book. So I'm cutting this chapter into several parts. But I altered or completely skipped a few parts from the epic, so if you discover inaccuracies and books missing, know that this is absolutely intentional.)

“Mēnin áeide, theá, Peleïádeo Akhilēos

ouloménen, hé myrí' Akhaioīs álge étheken …”¹

Athena still didn't know why not being picked as the fairest offended her so.

Maybe being thought of as beautiful was more important to her, than she had thought.

Anyhow, she could not deny, that she was slightly butthurt. Not as much as Hera, but she was still furious.

She had offered wisdom and victory, Hera had offered power.

And Paris had picked Aphrodite, because she had offered him the most beautiful woman in the world?! Really?

And to top it off, the woman in question was Helena of Sparta, married to none other than Menélaos, a volatile Mycenaean², who had become king of Sparta through their marriage!

She also happened to be subject of a treaty her father had made with her suitors, before she had chosen Menélaos as her husband: that those rejected would come to the aid of the successful one, should he ever be in a troublesome situation.

And what a troubled situation it was, because Paris had freaking abducted Helena with Aphrodite's help!

Indeed, that guy's stupidity knew no bounds!

So here the mortal men were – rallying the entirety of Hellas, because of that damn treaty! Among them were great men like brave Diomedes, cunning Odysseus (a favourite of Athena's), Menélaos' brother Agamemnon and, last but not least, great Akhilleus and his soulmate Patroklos.

Also, that old bitch Agamemnon had managed to offend several gods and mortals by … well, being his bitchy arsehole self …

Book One:

Apollon was minding his own business, when suddenly a prayer reached his ears.

A prayer full of anguish and despair, from a voice he knew: that of his priest Khrýses.

The god of oracles sighed and listened to what his priest had to say.

“Hear me, God of the Silver Bow, who stands over Khryse and holy Killa, who rules mightily over Ténedos, Smintheus³, if the roof I gave to your temple and my sacrifices ever pleased you, fulfil my prayer: let the Danaoi⁴ pay for my tears with your arrows!”

Apollon closed his eyes and used his gift of clairvoyance to get a full picture of what had happened.

But once he knew everything, he was seized by fury.

“Alright, motherfuckers!”, he growled, as he grabbed his bow and arrows and descended to earth, nearby their camp.

“Face the wrath of Ioímios⁵!”

Then he proceeded to rain down every single contagious disease he had at his disposal, for nine days straight.

Hera was raging and cursing Thetis and Akhilles, but mostly Thetis: the Nereid had persuaded Zeus to support the Trojans, because her son had asked her to.

Yep, Akhilles had requested that the Trojans should have the upper hand, lest Agamemnon finally would get his bitchy arse up and apologise to him properly.

Now the most powerful warrior of the entire army was brooding in his tent like … what was that mortal dish again? Oh yeah, a burrito. An overgrown, sulky blanket burrito. Who had completely withdrawn from battle with all of his troops, because screw Agamemnon.

Of course, no one liked Agamemnon, but this was ridiculous.

Book Two:

Meanwhile the Trojans, with their prince Hektor and Zeus' good will on their side, easily held their own and more than often threatened to gain decisive victories.

And to add insult to injury, her son Ares, who had promised to support her and Athena against the Trojans, had let Aphrodite get into his head and was now opposing them, like the turncoat he was!

Both Hera and Athena were furious at this development, but Zeus had not allowed them to interfere – yet.

“You know”, Athena grumbled, as the two goddesses looked down onto the battlefield, “If father let me, I would love to drive a spear into Ares' gut!”

“You and me both”, Hera huffed. “Just where did I go wrong in his educati- not a word, Athena”, she warned, when the goddess of wisdom opened her mouth to reply.

“Anyway”, the Queen continued, “We have to obey Zeus' decree, especially now; as you can see, he's in a bad mood.” And pointed to the dark clouds above them.

“Also, Athena – I think you might want to go down there; they all seem to want to cut and run, there is a riot.”

Athena lost no time in dashing down there and urging her mortal friend Odysseus to interfere.

It wasn't long, until he and old Nestor had re-established order.

Book Three:

Some sacrifices and one breakfast later, the Achaeans and the Trojans were duking it out on the battlefield, when Athena and Hera spied Menélaos coming close to Paris.

Latter apparently saw the Spartan king first and promptly ran off like a total wuss.

This made Hera cackle hysterically: this boy had had no qualms risking both her and Athena's wrath, abducting a married woman out of her own home, offending the entirety of Hellas in the process, and now, that her actual husband Menélaos was showing up, he was running away like a wimp?! Pathetic!

Just a few hours later, Paris changed his mind, but not before he got smack-talked by his brother Hektor for being a huge wimp.

Of course Menélaos kicked his arse, but before he could finish him off and end the war for good, Aphrodite showed up! Whisking away her favourite like the bitch she was!

Hera fumed, but resisted the urge to beat her to a pulp.

“Don't worry”, Athena comforted her, “Sooner or later, she'll get her arse handed to her. I already have my plans – and the means to execute them.”

“As always”, the Queen remarked, with a hint of amusement and fondness.

Meanwhile Menélaos was still on the battlefield, outraged beyond mortal comprehension and roaring for Paris to “COME BACK AND DIE LIKE A MAN!!!”

Anyhow he had won, his brother Agamemnon decided and demanded that Helena be given back, financial reparations included.

Even most of the Trojans agreed, that Helena should be given back.

But Paris insisted, that she was his wife (except that she wasn't) and he wouldn't give her up.

Book Four:

The Olympians were having lunch in their dining hall, drinking nectar and toasting to each other, while Hebe was filling their cups.

But Zeus, ever the son of cunning Kronos, was plotting.

Finally he rose and spoke with sharpest tongue:

“Among the goddesses Menélaos only has two supporters: my queen Hera, who is the patron of Argos, and my daughter Athena, who holds her hand over Boiotia. Yet both just sit here, while Aphrodite is having a field day dwelling with Paris and doing as she pleases. Did she not just save him from certain death? Menélaos has won, yes. But now we need to hold counsel about how we will proceed now; shall we bring on more bloody war or shall we finally let gentle Eirene end the suffering? Granted your approval, it would mean, that Priamos' city will remain habitable and Menélaos finally can take his Helena back home to Sparta.”

Hera and Athena stuck their heads together, whispering and plotting more bale for the Trojans.

However, Athena was sensible enough to bite her tongue towards her father.

Hera on the other hand jumped up and ranted furiously: “Zeus, what the heck?! I have worked my arse off, just to put up a fleet against Ilios, and now this shall all have been in vain?! Do whatever you want, but don't expect any of us to approve of it!”

“Shut it!”, Zeus barked, “What is your problem? Why are you so bent on obliterating this beautiful city completely! What did the Trojans ever do to you for you to be so obsessed with this?! Will your blood thirst only be quenched, when you can march through the gates of Troy to incinerate its inhabitants with your own hands?! Do what you must, but heed this; should I ever feel like destroying one of the cities you hold dear, do not get into my way. Let me do as I please, as I do for you, even though I do not like it. The Trojans have never failed to honour the gods as it is due; my altars were never void of the best sacrifices and presents my worshippers had to offer.”

Hera inhaled sharply, but returned: “My dearest cities are Argos, Sparta and Mycenae. Should any of them ever invoke your wrath, destroy them if you want. I couldn't stop you, if I tried – you are the strongest here. Still, my efforts should not be in vain. I am divine like you, we have the same parents and yet I'm the first of the goddesses, because you chose me to be your queen. So we should be in agreement, even if it's just for the sake of being role models to the rest of the gods. Do you not agree, my great and most beloved husband? Thus, we should send Athena down to tempt the Trojans into breaking the truce they made with the Achaeans. What do you say?”

Zeus chuckled at this response, but nodded his head towards Athena.

The goddess of wisdom jumped up eagerly and rushed down like a comet.

A Trojan archer shot at Menélaos, barely missing a critical body part (thanks to Athena's intervention) and the oath of peace was broken.

Soon the two sides were back at each other's throats again.

Back on Olympos, Zeus rose from the table, and retreated to the Room of Fate.

There stood a huge pair of golden scales – the Scales of Fate, gifted to him by great Ananke, the Protogenos of fate and necessity.

Zeus had not agreed to the destruction of Ilios out of favour.

It was the fate of Troy and many more warriors, that they should fall.

It was a hard choice to make; many of the people who would fall were in his personal favour and some even were his dear children.

But he was the King of the Gods.

And as such, sparing someone out of favouritism was not an option.

Meanwhile the Scales of Fate were swinging up and down, towards the Achaeans, then towards the Trojans, then back and back again …

Book Five:

As Athena was rushing about the army, spurring on the warriors, she was also looking for her half-brother Ares. His influence on the mortal fighters was hindering her work.

Oh, there he was – personally slaying Achaeans left and right and generally being his bloodthirsty, mass-murdering self.

She snuck up on him, but he noticed her before she could startle him.

Athena ignored the spear to her face and said: “Hi to you too, brother.”

“For fuck's sake, what do you want?”, Ares spat.

“For you to retreat, Brotoloigos⁶, before father gets angry.”

“You're lying. He didn't send you”, he remarked.

Athena huffed: “Alright, if you want to be like that …”

Then she promptly grabbed him, threw him over her shoulder, carried him off like this (despite his very vocal protest) and dumped him onto a rock nearby the river Skamandros.

“Father will decide over the victory. You stay here, or else!”, she warned.

Then she went back, while Ares gawked after her, wondering what the heck just had happened.

Athena heard a prayer and quickly found Diomedes. He had just been wounded and was now praying for her assistance in avenging himself.

She poured courage and strength over him and also manipulated his sight.

“Now that you can tell gods and humans apart”, she whispered into his ear, “Remember this; do not fight the gods, you don't stand a chance – unless it's Aphrodite; she's a wimpy bitch.”

Diomedes, now powered up and high on adrenaline, immediately rushed back into battle and began to massacre Trojans left and right, as if he was Ares in disguise.

He quickly found the Trojan archer who had shot him in the shoulder and killed him.

His companion, a Trojan nobleman named Aineías, jumped off his chariot to defend the corpse of his fallen comrade, but Diomedes quickly grabbed a huge stone and knocked him out.

Aphrodite, who was Aineías' mother, saw this and came to rescue her son.

However, Diomedes decided (much to Athena's sadistic pleasure), that he'd have none of that and promptly chucked a spear at the goddess of love. It hit her wrist, tore through the skin and Ikhor splat everywhere. She screamed in shock, terror and pain like a little bitch (seriously, it was just a cut!), dropped her son and fled, followed by the taunting of her injurer.

Apollon came to Aineías' rescue instead and caught him, before he could hit the ground. When Diomedes – blinded by battle frenzy – began to attack him too, Apollon lost his patience and began to glow ominously.

“Back off, mortal! You are delusional, if you believe, that you can hold your own against me!”

Diomedes did the wise thing and obeyed.

Meanwhile Aphrodite was searching the field in panic, until someone seized her by the hand: Iris, the messenger of Hera, had taken pity on her and was now leading her away from the turmoil.

“Calm down, Aphrodite”, the goddess of the rainbow tried to soothe her, “Look, there is Ares!”

The goddess of love promptly rushed over to her lover, who was basically just chilling at the banks of the river Skamandros.

Ares was startled, when he was tackled by a hysterical love goddess.

“Whoa! Aphrodite?! What happened, why are you-?”

In tears she told him what had happened.

He scowled, but kept his composure. “Let me see the wound.”

When she did, he blinked. “Aphrodite, you kicked arse in the Gigantomakhia and now you're freaking out over a scratch? Alright, alright, I'm sorry”, he apologised, when she glared tearfully.

“Just give me your chariot!”, she wailed, “I want to go home as quickly as possible!”

“Sure”, he consented and kissed her forehead.

“And my son – my son!”

“Don't worry, Apollon's got him. See?”

She sobbed in relief, when she spotted Apollon carrying Aineías away to safety.

Then she mounted Ares' war chariot and Iris drove her back to Olympos.

When she got there, she was healed by Apollon's son Asklepios, who gave her kind words of comfort.⁷

But just a few minutes later, Athena and Hera returned from the battlefield and promptly proceeded to mock her relentlessly.

“If you don't mind, my dear father”, Athena said innocently, “Surely Aphrodite has been doing that thing again, where she tempted a Greek woman to run after a Trojan and cut her hand on the needle of a brooch, when she fixed the woman's dress!”

Hera cackled hysterically and Zeus chuckled in amusement.

“Good to see you all have so much fun at my expense!”, Aphrodite spat.

“Hey, you do it all the time, it's time we get a good laugh too!”, Hera retorted.

Zeus finally stopped snickering and put a hand on Aphrodite's shoulder. “Now, now, my dear aunt. You're simply past the time of your life, when you could kill a giant with one swing of your blade. Your sword has grown dusty and your battle prowess is in the past. We have two professional war deities and many others who have a function in war, myself included. You on the other hand have a far fairer profession: the works of love and marriage.”

Meanwhile, Apollon had brought the unconscious Trojan nobleman to his temple, where his mother Leto and Artemis tended to his wounds.

Okay, now where is Ares – oh for fuck's sake, is he still sitting there like a moron?!

Apollon huffed and marched over to the river, where Ares indeed was still lounging, as if there wasn't relentless slaughter going on.

“Ares!”, he snapped, making the older god jump. “Get your lazy arse up and rid the battlefield of that madman Diomedes! He hurt Aphrodite at the wrist, attacked even me and at this point it wouldn't surprise me, if he took on our father Zeus as well! That man is hardly human, he fights with the strength of a Daimon! He is dangerous! You're the god of terrible war! Stop him!”

“Alright, alright, I'm on it!”, Ares grumbled defensively, “Get off my dick, will ya?!”

Apollon responded maturely, by sticking his tongue at him, ere he returned to his temple.

Ares teleported himself onto a wall, taking the shape of a Thracian ruler he favoured.

With fiery words, he stirred up the fighting spirit of the Trojans and their allies.

With renewed vigour they threw themselves into battle, although their opponents held them back with united strength.

He decided to help them a little more and held his hand above the Trojans. Darkness came over the plain and Aineías rejoined the fray, which significantly boosted the morale of the Trojans.

Still they couldn't seem to break through; the Achaeans stood like a wall.

Damn , they really need my help! Somehow this must be the fault of Daddy's Owl … but where is she? Eh, who cares!

He decided to get back to what he had been doing before Athena had interfered.

Nearby were his twin-sister Enyo and his best friend Eris, sowing more belligerence and strife and riling up the mortals.

Oh, there was Hektor. He had come to aid his people and was slaying Achaeans left and right.

Ares laughed heartily and joined the Trojan hero.

On Olympos, Hera addressed Athena: “Athena, we need to do something! We promised Menélaos, that he could return to Sparta once he conquered Troy and took his wife Helena back, but my son and Hektor are about to ruin everything! It's time to go to war.”

Athena nodded grimly and while Hera ordered her daughter Hebe to ready her war chariot, she donned her armour and that of her father. Armed with her spear and her father's Aigis, which bore the horrid face of the Gorgon, she jumped onto the chariot with Hera.

Sometimes Athena nearly forgot Hera's war-ridden past, but as the Queen of the Gods came, in armour from head to toe and a long, heavy spear in one and the reins of her horses in the other hand, she was reminded, that Hera was a warrior at the core.

The Queen of the Skies spurred on her horses and the Horai tore the Gates of Olympos open to make way.

But then Hera spied Zeus, just lounging on a cloud and being his smug and very neutral self.

She held her horses and spoke to her husband: “Zeus! Ares is wreaking havoc down there. Doesn't it irritate you too, that he is slaying the best Achaeans down there, while Aphrodite and Apollon, who let him loose, are having a blast? Allow me to put an end to our son's murder spree and to give him a good beating!”

Zeus laughed heartily: “Go on, my dear wife! And sic Athena on him; she has experience in punishing him and as I see, in plundering too.”

Athena just grinned cheekily.

With Zeus approval secured, Hera's chariot descended to earth quicker than lightning. The two goddesses had joined the ranks of the Achaeans.

While Hera spurred them on with sharp and fiery words, Athena approached Diomedes.

The man had sat down to nurse the wound, which had been inflicted on him earlier and was now inflamed to the point where the pain was crippling his arm.

“What is this?!”, she demanded to know, “Some fine son Tydeus got himself there! I remember him so well; he was small in frame, but one of the greatest warriors I have ever known. You on the other hand! Ha! Were you half the man he was, you would be fighting the Trojans!”

Diomedes got defensive and reminded her, that she had told him not to attack any gods apart from Aphrodite. “Ares himself is leading the Trojans in battle. It's only because of your instructions that I made my troops draw back.”

Athena smirked, grabbed his face and her bright blue eyes were blazing with pugnacity and fire.

It was a testimony to the man's boundless bravery and faith in her, that he didn't even tremble, that her burning gaze didn't fill him with fear, though he knew exactly who was speaking to him.

“Yes, now I see him in you!”, she exclaimed, “You really are the son of your father! Fear not Ares or any of the other immortals, as long as I am with you. Once this sadistic madman promised his mother Hera and me to support the Achaeans. Now look at him helping the Trojans! He really needs a reality check. And …”, her smirk widened. “ … who could give it better than you?”

They mounted his chariot and rode into battle.

Athena knew, that to Diomedes Ares had to be horrifying; even to the other Olympians the blood-stained, untameable and murderous god of terrible war was a frightening sight to behold.

But as she had said before, the Argive had nothing to fear with her by his side.

Ares was busy robbing the corpse of someone he had just murdered. However, as he spied a shiny golden helmet, that could only belong to one person (Diomedes of Argos), he instantly dropped the corpse and dashed through the fray, his face a bloodthirsty grimace.

With a well-aimed throw, his spear flew towards the mortal, but … it missed?!

What the- how is that possible?! How?! How did I miss? I never miss!

Ares opted to use his second sight. This way he could sense a divine presence next to the mortal he wanted to kill.

“Daddy's Owl. I should have known it's you …”, he growled under his breath.

ARES, WATCH OUT!

What?

Diomedes' own spear flew and hit its target.

Ares' eyes widened.

The weapon had pierced clean through his stomach.

For a second Ares was too shocked to even register the pain.

Then Diomedes pulled his spear back out and it hit full force.

He screamed.

An unholy, rough and piercing roar, as if ten thousand men were screaming out of one throat.

It was so loud and so terrifying, that the warring mortals forgot what they were doing and clung to each other in fear and panic.

“You will pay!”, he choked and glared at the spot where he knew Athena's eyes to be. “You fucking bitch! You will pay!”

He summoned a whirlwind to carry him up into the sky and dragged himself all the way back to Olympos and into Zeus' throne room.

“Why is it”, he growled, as he showed his father the spear wound, “That everyone has to obey your command, while your daughter Athena can do whatever she wants?! While apparently I am not even allowed to do my fucking job?! She plays with all of us as she pleases – ngh! – and now she has sicced that arrogant fucker Diomedes on her fellow gods! That bastard sliced Aphrodite's hand open, assaulted Apollon and now this – ow, fuck! Had I not bailed, I would be lying under a pile of corpses or worse, be crippled – no offence, Hephaistos …”

“Some taken”, the smith replied drily.

Ares continued his rant: “And you, Zeus, just sit and watch, while she has the time of her life, pushing everyone else around! For the sake of your other children, for your whole family, dial it back with the favouritism and control her!”

But Zeus just replied scornfully: “Oh stop whining into my ears, you double-faced liar! Of all the gods that dwell here on Olympos, I despise you most. You have nothing but strife and bloodshed in your head, you're always looking for trouble – you got that from your mother. Were you not my son, I would have sent you to Tartaros a long time ago.”

“If I am the way I am”, Ares retorted coldly, “It's not because of the way my mother raised me, but it's because you didn't raise me any better – in fact, I don't remember you raising me at all. Also, I hate you too. I hate you so much.”

Zeus was visibly struggling to keep his composure (if the dark clouds outside hadn't made it obvious, his tense, stony face did), but only inhaled sharply and ordered for Asklepios to treat his son's injuries.

“I'm sorry for that”, the doctor later said, as he was applying healing salve to Ares' wound.

The war god's red eyes shifted to him. “What do you mean?”

His mien and tone were blank, but Asklepios could tell, that his uncle knew what he meant.

“What … what Zeus said earlier. I heard it all.”

“Spare me your pity, nephew”, Ares said coldly.

“What I feel for you isn't pity”, Asklepios contradicted. “Don't mistake compassion for pity. I too have suffered the wrath of Zeus; he killed me with a thunderbolt, back when I was a mortal and deified me only for my father's sake. But that happened quickly and only once. I do not like you, Ares, but no one deserves that kind of treatment.”

Ares chuckled wryly and (much to Asklepios' surprise) ruffled the doctor's blond head.

“You're a good kid. But don't waste your compassion on me”, the older god advised. “I don't need it. It has been this way for 38 000 years (that's how old I am) and it means nothing to me.”

Asklepios had the feeling, that the war god wasn't being completely honest, but he knew better than talking back to Ares.

“There”, he said instead, as the older man's injuries were closing. “Now a nice bath and some fresh clothing and you'll be as good as new. Shall I apply a salve to make the scar disappear?”

“No”, Ares chuckled, “It's just another scar in my collection. I don't mind it as much as I mind some of the others.”

When Hera and Athena came home a little later, they found Ares standing near Zeus' throne.

He had been perfectly patched up, was wearing fresh clothes and bore himself with an odd dignity.

Athena immediately realised, that he was attempting to keep his last shred of pride, with his perfectly blank and indifferent expression and aloof posture.

But when he looked up and saw her, his facade slipped just for a second.

His red eyes burned with unadulterated loathing, as they met her blue ones.

She responded with a similar glare, before resuming her own position at her father's side.

Book Seven:

Right after the gods had left the battlefield, Hektor and Paris joined their fellow Trojans and began to slaughter enemies left and right.

Apollon was watching them invisibly from the city walls, always the victory of the Trojans in his mind.

But when he saw Athena dash down from the sky with obvious intentions, he flew across the field to catch her.

“Are you meddling yet again?!”, he reproached her, “What is this, the fifth time today?! Look, I know you don't give a shit, that all those good Trojans are dying, but for once, can you just not?! Let us end the senseless bloodshed for today. Tomorrow is another day and surely you can't be in this much of a hurry to lay this great city to waste, can you?!”

Athena countered: “Actually, that was what I had in mind, when I came just now. But how do you plan to achieve a duel, Hekatos⁸?”

“Hektor”, Apollon replied coolly. “He's easy to persuade. A duel, one on one, a battle to the death. And if he demands one, it will compel the Achaeans to choose one out of their ranks to fight him.”

Athena had no objections to that.

So the god of prophecy sent a vision to Helenos, one of Hektor's brothers, to let him know the gods' intentions.

Not much later, Hektor was challenging the Achaeans to chose one of their ranks to fight him. His condition was that the loser's armour should go to the victor, but the corpse should be returned to their respective side.

The Achaeans were hesitant.

Finally Menélaos, revolted by everyone's cowardice, stepped forward, but was stopped by his brother Agamemnon, who warned him that there was no way he could win against Hektor.

Then the old king Nestor roasted everyone and several, grabbed by their honour, volunteered.

They drew lots and Ajax the Greater was chosen.

After a more or less respectful address, the two warriors began to duke it out.

Ajax quickly proved himself to be Hektor's equal.

Their combat was so vicious, that Apollon interfered and helped the Trojan prince up.

Then the two mortals forgot about their spears and shields and began a mortal sword fight.

Until two heralds stepped in and drew them apart.

“Enough!”, one of them spoke, “Let it be. Zeus favours you both equally. You have proven to him and us, what exceptional warriors you are. But cease it now. It's growing dark and it's better to call it a night.”

The opponents agreed to do that, complimented each other's battle prowess and exchanged gifts.

Apollon couldn't help but find it wonderful, how these two enemies set an example by respecting each other, both as warriors and people.

Meanwhile, several Trojans demanded, that Helene be given back to the Achaeans and many agreed.

Unfortunately, Paris refused to give her back, insisting that she was his wife now (even though she really wasn't), although he did offer to give back her treasure.

Priamos sighed and send a messenger to the Achaeans to let them know of it and ask for permission to bury their dead.

Of course they refused the offer of the treasures, but they agreed to stop all fighting, until the fallen warriors on both sides had been buried properly.

On Olympos, Poseidon had complaints.

The Achaeans had built a wall around their camps and now the Lord of the Seas was bothered by it being built without any sacrifices to him and that the wall he and Apollon once had built around Ilios would be forgot.

Zeus pinched his nose and spat: “Oh, for the love of me, do you have nothing else to worry about?! You can destroy that thing once the war is over and the Achaeans are gone, but now stop whining to me about it!”

Once their argument was settled, the King of the Gods retreated to his study and proceeded to spend the rest of the night plotting bale and doom for the warring people on earth.

Shortly after midnight a knock on the door pulled him from his plotting.

“Enter!”, he cried.

The door opened to reveal …

“Ares!” Zeus stood up. “What a surprise! It's been more than a century since you came to my office of your own volition! Do come in!”

Ares looked uncharacteristically modest, as he came in, which was even more surprising.

“My dear father”, he began, “I wish to apologise for earlier. And, if you will, discuss a few things with you?”

Zeus' interest was piqued.

“I'm all ears, my son and heir.”

Their conversation was short and almost business-like.

But at the end the King of the gods was laughing heartily: “Sometimes I forget just how much of me and your mother you have in you! Oh, if the others knew just how underhanded you can be in your spite, they would see you differently. Yet you're right with what you say and I see no harm in humouring you for a change. Your idea is a good one. Go to bed now, my son, and rest secure in the knowledge, that for once in your life, you beat your half-sister at her own game.”

Book Eight:

In the next morning, Zeus gathered his family in the assembly hall.

“From now on, I alone will guide the course of war on earth”, he announced. “None of you is allowed to interfere. No one. If you do, I will roast you with a thunderbolt. As you are gods, you won't be reduced to ashes, but Ares here can confirm, that the results are still really nasty.”

At these words, Ares, who was standing next to Zeus' throne, pushed back the bangs that were covering the left side of his face, revealing the hideous scar they were hiding. The sight made several of the attendants gasp.

Zeus went on: “As you can see, he still has that one, because not even Asklepios' healing arts would rid one of that kind of scar. And my thunderbolt just grazed him, so he was lucky. Imagine, what would happen to you, if I hit you full on. Or even better yet, I will throw you into Tartaros, if you disobey me. I'm sure my brother's face will be priceless, once I leave you to him.”

Everyone was gaping at him, speechless over those straightforward threats.

Athena was the first one to regain her speech.

“Dear father”, she began with a shaky voice, “We know that you are the strongest. If you wish, we won't interfere with the battle. But won't you at least allow us to give counsel? Hera, Poseidon and I can't help but pity the poor fighters, who have to deal with their imminent demise as best as they can. Won't you allow us to try and spare some in this manner?”

Zeus laughed, but quickly resumed his stern demeanour.

“This is as far as you all may go”, he accommodated. “Even you, my little Owl-Eye, will be punished, if you go against my orders.”

Athena bit her lip, but nodded.

Right after the assembly was ended, Zeus descended to earth to supervise the happenings down there.

Athena used the opportunity to go after Ares.

Barely holding back her anger, she followed him into a lone hallway and grabbed him by the shoulder.

“This is your doing, isn't it?”, she hissed.

Oh so slowly Ares turned around to face her. His butter-wouldn't-melt expression made her want to wring his neck.

“My dear sister”, he cooed, “I haven't the faintest idea what yer talkin' about!”

“Don't play that game with me!”, she snarled, “You put it into his head to force us to sit here and kick our heels like complete idiots, so he can hog the entire show and turn the war into a fucking board game!”

“Ya mean, he hasn't been doin' that before?”, Ares countered.

“Ares, I warn you! Don't think I didn't catch your disgusting smug grin earlier, when he threatened us all with what would happen, should we disobey him! How casually you let us see your scar, even though you grew your hair longer on the left side for the sake of hiding it?! How else could you of all gods be so calm and cavalier about this, if you weren't the one behind it?!”

The war god chuckled and swiped her hand off his shoulder.

“Ah, I wouldn't say that I'm behind it, although I might have a part in it.”

“What did you do?”, Athena growled.

He shrugged casually. “Eh, I just had a talk with him last night. From son to father, ya know. Resolvin' an argument we had after I came back from down there, doin' some business.”

“Doing some business!”, Athena echoed incredulously, “You persuaded him to stop everyone from interfering with the battle! How?! How did you do this?! You're anything but a man of eloquence!”

Ares laughed cruelly: “I didn't need to be. I just pointed out the obvious. If I'm not allowed to do my job, why should you – or anyone for that matter? I asked for justice and I got it.”

“Why, you-!”

He caught her fist, before she could hit him in the face.

“Now, now! No need to throw a hissy fit! I just gave you a taste of your own medicine!”

Athena was this close to deicide!

“What do you mean, a taste of my own medicine-”

She cried out in surprise, when he seized her by her chiton and pulled her close.

“How does it feel to not get your will, huh, Daddy's Owl?”, he growled, “That doesn't feel so great now, does it? This is what I have to bear with all the time. Although it probably stings you more than me … after all, you are his 'Little Owl-Eye'. It's probably way more mortifying, when you're used to always getting what you want. But that's not the case for me, which makes this whole thing just the sweeter!”

Forcefully he pushed her away, making her stagger a little.

“You injured me yesterday, both physically and psychologically”, he reminded her coldly. “You let a mortal pierce me with a spear and returned home in triumph with my mother, to gloat over how you two stopped me. And you expected for me to just let it go? No. I am spiteful like my mother. And if I want, I can be pretty damn underhanded, just like our daddy dearest.”

“Why should father listen to you?!”, she snarled, “To you of all gods!”

Ares smiled frigidly: “Sometimes he listens to me … because I'm his heir.”

Her blood ran cold.

Of course.

The Greek gods followed the principle of primogeniture, which required for a ruler to be succeeded by his oldest legitimate son.

And Ares, even though he was Zeus' least favourite son, was his only legitimate one.

The war god sighed and span around on his heel. “It's really sad, how you always forget that. But it doesn't matter. The Achaeans will conquer Troy eventually, but no one will be truly the victor. Of that I have taken care. Well, Thetis and I – don't wanna hog the whole credit, like you always do. But lighten up, Daddy's Owl; we both know our father, the prohibition won't last for that long. Sooner or later we'll all meddle with their mortal affairs again.”

He smirked at her over his right shoulder. “But right here and now, I am the winner. Not gonna lie, I hated having to be so underhanded, but it was worth it. And when your side lays Troy to waste, well, enjoy watchin' on as they commit war crimes so horrid, that you'll regret havin' supported them. This is the price you pay for your victory. Have a nice day, Daddy's Owl. Don't choke on that piece of humble pie, will ya?”

---

1) "Of the wrath sing, goddess, of Akhilleus, son of Peleus, his cursed wrath, which brought so much woe to the Achaeans (the Greeks) ..." The opening sentence of the Iliad. 2) If you have never heard of Mycenae, please look it up. For the context, it's one of the Greek main powers during that era and is ruled by Agamemnon (who is a fucking arsehole), the brother of Menélaos. The later Greek civilization considered itself a successor to the Mycenaean culture. 3) Smintheus: "Lord of the Mice/Rats", one of Apollon's epithets. 4) Danaoi: the Greeks, as referred to around the area of Troy. 5) Ioímios: "Lord of the Plagues", one of Apollon's epithets. Both of the aforementioned epithets refer to his function as god of pests and plagues. 6) Brotoloigos: "Slaughterer of Men/Manslaughtering", an epithet of Ares. 7) In the Iliad, she flees to her mother Dione, who treats her wound and comforts her. But I'm going with the account of Hesiod's Theogony, according to which Aphrodite has no mother. She sprung from Ouranos' severed testicles, that fell into the sea, after Kronos castrated him. So instead of Dione, in my version she is comforted by Asklepios, the divine doctor. As for Asklepios, in his place the Iliad mentions Paian as the doctor of the gods and as god of healing. But his identity isn't clear and Paian is also an epithets of several other gods with an association with healing (Paian means "Healer"). 8) Hekatos: "Worker from Afar", one of Apollon's epithets (in his function as god of archery and prophecy)

Bonus: Yes, I know that in the book Ares has nothing to do with Zeus' order for the gods to stay out of the fighting for now (I'm reading that damn thing for the 3rd time now!). I just thought, it would be funny if he used his few braincells for petty revenge in the most devious way he can think of. So that's my own invention, lol.

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author-morgan · 5 years ago

Text

Phobia ☤ Alexios

seven - welcome to athens

masterlist

“Be strong, saith my heart; I am a soldier; I have seen worse sights than this.”

Fate decrees two kindred souls from two different empires will find one another, and the spear shall be made whole again.

"-AND INVITE AN outsider instead? They don't need another reason to hate me." Irene only hears the last of what Perikles is saying when she steps up into the Pynx. Judging by the strained tone of the statesman and the misthios' stance, the discussions are not going the way Herodotus initially hoped. Perikles' symposiums were known for their exclusivity, after all.

She grips onto Alexios' arm. It would be a shame for him to have come all this way for nothing, especially for such a virtuous cause. "Then allow me to bring him as my guest," the princess offers with a delicate smile, surprising all three men with her sudden appearance. Athens' leader regards Irene's appearance –stunned to find there are no visible bruises or cuts on her exposed skin this time.

"Very well," Perikles concedes with a sigh, trusting her and Herodotus' judgment against his own. His focus returns to the Eagle Bearer. "I would still ask that you aid my friends, misthios."

Alexios nods –Herakles had completed twelve tasks. Three wouldn't be a problem. "Consider it done," he replies, willing to play the part if it meant gaining intel on his mother's whereabouts.

Perikles retreats from the square with Herodotus trailing behind him. Alexios' gaze follows the two men until they cannot be distinguished from the crowd, but the princess' focus is on another, less savory character. Kleon the Everyman glances between her and the misthios, takes a step toward them. Irene glares at the politician –eyes filled with abhorrence. "Come, Alexios-" she tugs gently on his arm, urging him away from the remainder of the assembly and Kleon "-it is growing late and we have traveled far."

Alexios follows Irene, keeping in stride with the princess and keeping tally of the dubious looks people cast in his direction. "You didn't mention you know Perikles," he accuses in a lighthearted tone as they pass through a small agora to the east of the Pynx.

"I thought I had no reason to," she comments, quickly glancing over each stall and vendor. Herodotus was meant to handle negotiations. "Though I am glad to be of assistance." The princess pauses at a vendor selling fresh pomegranates, she fetches two silver obols from a concealed coin purse in exchange for two ripe and heavy fruits.

He glimpses her from the corner of his eye. She wears a pale green peplos with a Tyrian purple himation draped over her shoulder. Her hair falls in loose curls, adorned only with a ribbon dyed the same Tyrian purple. It doesn't occur to him they have stopped moving again until he pulls his gaze away from her.

"This is where you live?" He asks, looking at the house sitting on a small hill. The more he learns about the princess, the more questions he has. She flushes, never having been one to flaunt wealth as some of the other elites. It is not as large as Perikles villa, nor as extravagant as those belonging to esteemed playwrights and sophists in the city but it stands impressive, nonetheless.

"Hydarnes was well respected," she explains leading him into the open courtyard at the villa's center. Despite being Persian the old general had the reputation of an honorable and nobleman. Perikles held him in high regard and had taken both she and her brother under his wing. "My brother, Zephyr, was loved by many in the city too." Zephyr had grown into an Athenian easily enough and in time Irene did as well.

Alexios cannot imagine what strange desires led her to leave and go down the path of a castigator. "Why would you ever leave?" He asks. Almost anyone would choose a life of comfort and wealth over being an itinerant. It is but another enigma surrounding the princess.

There is a longing, distant look her eyes –one that had not been there before arriving in Athens. Her composure falters. "Even a songbird eventually tires of its cage," she tells him, sorrow seeping into her voice.

While he does not know the exact feeling she speaks of he shares the sentiments. Alexios always dreamt of the day he'd finally be able to leave Kephallonia. "And your brother?" He questions, glancing around the empty villa.

Irene pushes down the lump in her throat. Zephyr's death still plagues her dreams and memories. "Murdered by bandits," she tells him –unable to look anywhere else but the stone beneath her feet.

IRENE FINDS SHE cannot sleep –after sleeping in caves and along beaches, the bed in her chambers is too soft. It is a common struggle she experiences when coming back to Athens. Comfort and memories often haunt her until she leaves the confines of the city walls. She goes to the roof terrace of the villa.

"Can't sleep either?" Alexios asks as soon as he catches sight of her from the steps leading up to the roof.

The princess spares a moment's glance over her shoulder at the misthios, focus quickly turning to the acropolis. "This place feels hollow after-" she can't bring herself to finish the sentence, but Alexios understands the meaning well enough –this place no longer feels like a home.

He sits next to her and follows her unfocused gaze to the Parthenon. It is the grandest temple he has seen in his travels –dedicated to the patron goddess of Athens, Athena. Now the white marble is bathed in moonlight and appears as a beacon of light rising high above the city.

"Where does the mighty Alexios hail from?" Irene asks, emphasizing the epithet Barnabas often uses. It causes him to roll his eyes even if it does bring an amused smile to his lips.

"Kephallonia," he answers. At times, he misses the simplicity of Kephallonian life –tending to Markos' problems and keeping Phoibe out of trouble. The worst thing he had to worry about was when the Cyclops and his miscreants decided to show their faces. There wasn't a war or a Cult seeking domination or a Persian princess.

"What's it like?" Irene wonders aloud. She's never gone so far west before and has only just met someone who could call the island home.

"A shithole," he remarks, but it is not an answer capable of pacifying Irene. "Mount Ainos makes up for most of it," the Eagle Bearer continues. At the peak of the mountain was Zeus' likeness hewn from stone –standing tall over the island with a thunderbolt poised to strike. The statue was impressive, yet it was the sweeping views of the sea Alexios liked best. He cannot come up with the words to describe it, though.

"What is Athens like?" He asks in turn. It is different than Kephallonia or Sparta, but it is clear the banal rumors of a puritanical society are mostly unfounded.

"A shithole," she quips, the corner of her lips quirk upward. Alexios shakes his head, laughing under his breath. "It's better than most places," she says in earnest. Many small villages and poleis were plagued by corruption and sickness. Irene would not deny Athens had the same issues, but here people did not walk the streets as living corpses in quiet fear. "Perikles has done great things for the city and its people." With Spartan encampments just outside the city walls and rumors of a Cult, Athens still thrived even with the unrest being stirred by the likes of Kleon.

Irene shifts and looks over the misthios. He doesn't have the look of a traditional Spartan, nor does he bear the delicate features of many Athenians. Steeped in moonlight and cloaked in shadows, he is both Ares and Adonis –she doesn't know why it has taken her this long to decide he is handsome.

"What were you doing on Samos?" His question draws the princess away from her thoughts –catches her off-guard.

"I-" she pauses, unsure which lie is best to craft this time but when Irene's eyes dart up to meet his, she is compelled to speak the truth. "Ever since Zephyr died, I've been hunting down bandits," she admits. Irene has lost count of how many bandits she has sent to the underworld, but each death feels as though she is avenging her brother. It feels like justice. But where does seeking justice end, and seeking vengeance begin?

#Alexios #Alexios x OC #Alexios Imagine #Alexios Fanfiction #Assassin's Creed Imagine #Assassin's Creed Fanfiction #Assassin's Creed Odyssey #story: Phobia #my writing

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