#man can't talk though cause he's acted even goofier around aphrodite

[protagaster]

...

Don't judge me. I had this creative flow and I REALLY wanted to let it run its course.

Made with love and inspiration from my sister in sin - @somereaderinblue! A lot of Ares' personality comes from Blue's notes, quotes, and cute little random sayings.

This time, though, I also dedicate this fic to @zippyskyfalls! You'd be surprised what looking at one image of Ares could do for the creative process ~

I Need Him to be Mine

Penelope's heart can't help but flutter, longing once more to gaze into those mesmerizing eyes belonging to the young King of Ithaca...

Ares tilted his head at the peculiar sight before him. 

Only a day ago Penelope had asked of him to train her harder and more vigorously than usual, eager to defeat the boy that unknowingly agitated her to a game of friendly spar. 

Now here she was, after that same boy bested her in their spar, softly humming a common love-tune dedicated to his Aphrodite, sitting at her loom and threading together a simple but beautiful tapestry featuring the boy as her muse. 

Now, Ares will be the first to admit that despite his age he has not retained much knowledge on mortals and their whims. How could he, when he is one of the most hated Gods within the entire pantheon and even outside of it? Before Penelope, Ares did not have the opportunity to look over and learn from mortals that were not related to him. 

However, even with his lack of experience, Ares still knew how improbable it was for someone to completely shift their thoughts and impressions of a person. And yet here Penelope was, softly singing a melody about everlasting love, dedicating a piece of her sacred craft to the boy she previously thought to be more cavalier than even Zeus himself. 

“-eyes?” 

“What was that?” Ares asked, roused from his thoughts after hearing Penelope’s voice take on a meek tone. 

She hasn’t spoken in such a small, soft voice ever since Ares first claimed her as his pupil. How can she, when his mere presence is enough to fill her with boundless confidence even in the most mundane of daily activities? 

“His eyes,” Penelope answered the God, not once looking up from her loom. “They aren’t good enough…” 

Ares, still in quite the curious state, looked down at the tapestry small enough to fit in two palms. 

There he was, displayed carefully in spools of thread that perfectly encapsulated his image, the boy from before, Odysseus…

Ugh, the boy’s name left a poor taste in Ares’ mouth. 

Still, even if Ares did not like the boy (how could he, when this Odysseus radiated the same sickening smugness and weak-willed cunning as that damned Athena), he could at least praise his student’s passion for her craft.

The background of the tapestry was a simple white and light blue, colors heavily associated with the boy, from his wear to his kingdom. The center of the small cloth, highlighting the main focus of it, was the almost completed figure of the boy himself. Penelope perfectly mirrored his semi-long wavy brown hair, the slight curve of a smile constantly gracing his lips, and the lean but still relatively toned muscle that adorned his physical figure. 

Ares tried not to think of why Penelope chose to put extra emphasis on the details around the boy’s thighs… 

However, there was one detail in his student’s tapestry that kept it from completion. A detail that Ares would argue to be an individual’s most important feature- 

Odysseus’ eyes. 

The God could tell from how the thread around the loom piled up that Penelope spent some time threading then promptly unthreading her model’s eyes. 

“The eyes giving you trouble?” Ares suspected this to be true based on Penelope’s earlier proclamation, but he still wanted to be sure. 

“No matter what I do, I just can’t seem to get them right!” 

Ares raised an eyebrow. He gestured to the wall opposite of Penelope’s loom.

“You’ve managed just fine with all of these.” 

Ares brought to attention the many other various projects Penelope weaved over the course of perfecting her craft. Some displayed animale, symbols, and scenery, while others illustrated people, either individual or in a group. Either way, all of them were considered works of art by all who gazed upon them. 

Of the tapestries focusing on people, the earliest ones depicted Penelope’s family. The first of her cloth would showcase the young princess’ family: these very few featuring her mother, six siblings, and two of her quintuplet cousins, Castor and Pollux. A few more than the previous were modeled after Penelope’s favorite cousins, Helen and Clytemnestra. However, it was clear who most of those early tapestries took inspiration from; so many of Penelope’s earliest creations, even going back to the very first when she was just discovering her love of weaving, illustrated the image of her father, King Icarius. 

Over time though, in a manner that signified her state of mind as she got older, less and less of Penelope’s projects featured her family. Now, almost none of them depicted her father. 

Ares couldn’t help but let himself feel somber for his student, the implications behind this trend not at all ignorant to God. Especially considering his own standing with his divine family…

Ares shook his head, forcing himself to return to the topic at hand. Following the line of Penelope’s designs that featured people, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride. 

For most of those projects were made in honor of the God of War himself. 

Most would depict his strength and fearlessness within moments of combat, visualized through the stories Ares would share with Penelope (sometimes even guiding her through the events with his quick-tought). This, of course, was the image that Ares was most commonly known by in the Greek world, for better or worse. 

A few though, presented Ares as something other than the personification of loss and bloodshed. These tapestries, projects Penelope chose to create whenever she felt most proud of Ares, they illustrated the God’s image via details told through his stories (details he once thought to be trivial) and through personal moments shared between the God and his mortal. One of the tapestries depicted a scene with Ares gazing lovingly up at Aphrodte, embracing the Goddess in his arms. Another, an image that displayed Ares using a hand to shield a young woman’s eyes, his other atop the woman’s own hands as he guided her through a violent and bloody battlefield. The last, one Penelope admitted to be one of her favorites, bringing to life the moment the 13 year old Spartan princess pulled the divine spear out of the earth, a vulture looming over her not as a scavenger, but a protector.  

Ares forced himself to return to the topic at hand before he could get too caught up in his pride. The point was, Penelope is no novice when it came to depicting images through her weaving. In fact, despite her young age, her hands were probably the most skilled in the art throughout the entire kingdom. Nay, throughout all of Greece even! 

So why was it giving her so much trouble when she tried to encapsulate this boy’s image?

“It’s different with him…” Penelope sighed out, using the tip of her finger to caress the boy’s threaded face. “No matter what I do, I’m unable to depict that sparkle in his eyes…” 

Ares couldn’t control his blink of shock. With every word this girl uttered, they only left him more and more confused. 

“What ‘sparkle’?” 

“You know! The sparkle!” Penelope stood up and walked away from her loom, embracing herself as a light blush spread throughout her cheeks.

Penelope flopped down on her bed with a not-so graceful thud. For once in her life, the Princess cared not over her demeanor, the only thing flooding her heart and mind being the foreign but not unwelcome feeling of butterflies flying in her tummy. 

“The way his eyes shine whenever he comes up with an idea! How the glint in his eye appears whenever he proves mental strength to be just as, if not more impressive at times, compared to physical strength! Or how they twinkle when he laughs…”

Penelope sighed, unaware of the blush that only got richer in color the more her mind lingered on the young King of Ithaca. 

“Oh, his laugh. It’s like music to the ears…” 

Ares couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Everything Penelope describes about the boy came from the spar they had just partook in mere hours ago. The very same in which she experienced a quick and humiliating defeat. 

Even after her mentor had declared she would train extra hard in the coming weeks to make up for her failure, Ares saw Penelope was not deterred. Quite the opposite, actually. 

While Ares was lamenting over how he once again lost to Athena, Penelope was beside him gushing over how Odysseus respected her as a warrior by refusing to go easy on her. 

Ares himself didn't see the appeal. The boy was smaller than other boys his age, considerably scrawnier, and did not meet the criteria of a warrior that Ares thought to be necessary. Penelope though- 

“I must get it done! Even if it’s only through a piece of cloth made by my hand-”

The girl ran back to her loom, looking at her unfished project longingly. 

“-I need him to be mine…” 

Ares let out a groan. Even though Penelope had verbally expressed her desires to be with Odysseus, and even with his gift of courage coursing through her heart and veins, the truth was the girl still thought her dream of being with the boy to be an unobtainable one. 

Because he was here for Helen’s hand, not hers. 

Ares was offended for Penelope, for how dare this Odysseus, Athena’s student at that, think himself to be above the affections of his mortal pupil! 

No, that simply won’t do!

Ares will have to go to the boy’s room when the time is right, to confront him over his foolishness! Athena be damned! 

Whatever it takes, for the sake of creating a warrior empowered by her heart instead of feeling burdened by it, Ares will do what he must!

…

Maybe he should ask Aphrodite first though, just to be safe…