a/n: i feel so poopy but hereya go

edited may 18, 2014


First – Ares, Hebe


The sharp click of a door unlocking awoke Ares from his sleep, and, blinking away the drowsiness, he gathered his energy to snap at the offender.

"Leave at once," he told his pillow, hopefully loud enough for the party to hear. Aphrodite, a frequent visitor in and out his chambers, should know by now that if she wanted someone to play with or, possibly, a partner to watch mortals scramble over themselves for her, she should forewarn him. Preferably not at ungodly (joke notwithstanding) hours of the day.

There was a squeak and then a sound reminiscent of a fall. Terribly disturbed, Ares propped up his elbow and leaned on his hand, ready to reprimand whatever idiot decided to rile up a war god first thing in the morning, but then—

A familiar, fallen body.

"Oh," he realized, getting up from the blankets. Whatever anger from before was lost.

Bare feet padding forward, his hand automatically picked out a slim arm already attached to the body of a young woman in a thin layer of white dress, who seemed perpetually stuck to the holy marble floor of Ares's chambers.

"Hebe," addressed Ares solemnly to the girl. "What do you think you're doing?"

The wavy brown mane covered a head that stubbornly remained face down, even with a small tug Ares gave with her upper limb. Rolling his eyes, he bent down on his knees and prodded her stomach with his free hand.

"Up," he commanded, trying not to let his voice tune in to his amusement.

She only shook her head, giving the floor thorough Eskimo kisses. He thought he would have to poke her again until she answered quietly. "I would if I could, however brother of mine is missing something quite vital."

"Am I?" Ares asked, amused. "And what is that?"

After centuries of practice, Ares could hear the pouting in her voice. "Clothes."

A large grin appeared upon his lips and he let go of Hebe's arm before dropping back onto the bed and pulling up the sheets.

"Covered," Ares announced, laughter filling his chest.

Slowly, Hebe lifted her head, showing off her dimpled smile and youthful eyes, proving her to be appropriately titled. "Brother!"

"Why have you come into my chambers, Hebe?"

She plucked herself off the floor and skipped sweetly to the side of his bed, beaming. Biting down a potentially sarcastic remark, he pulled her onto his bed by her waist and sat her down beside him.

"I've come back from the meeting with Father and Mother!" Her eyes gleamed and tresses of her long hair pooled evenly along her collarbones, shown in cause of her fitted nightgown. The aversion of his eyes from the dip of her neck back to her sparkling face was quick and went unnoticed.

"Is that so?" Ares asked, smiling at her obvious enthusiasm. His large hand wandered to the small of her back and rolled his thumb up and down her spine in order to see her squirm, as she did when they were younger, and not at all because he needed an excuse to touch her.

"Enough!" she giggled out, pulling his hand away and drawing it to her lap instead. Ares tried to control his fingers from twitching. "They have asked me to immortalize a demigod, I'll have you know."

"Did they, now?"

"Do not patronize me, brother!" she chastised, and it took a while for Ares to have a grip on his laughter. "Mother says I'm going to marry this man!"

His laughter immediately drained, Ares frowned. "What?"

"Oh, yes," Hebe continued, oblivious to her brother's distress. "Heracles is his name, though I have the right to believe you know of him?"

"I know of him, but what is this nonsense about marriage?"

"Nonsense?" she repeated. "Why should it be nonsense? I think it is perfectly sensible. Father approves as well."

"Father has affairs as often as Apollo makes the sun rise," Ares informed, "Why should he have a say on marriage?"

Hebe stood from his bed and put her arms around herself. Suddenly, their air of relative happiness dissipated thanks to him. "What are you against, brother? My marriage?"

"You aren't even married yet, Hebe!" Ares lashed out, tugging his bed sheets around his person, standing along with her. "You're the goddess of youth, and they expect you to marry a bastard child of Zeus?"

Even without her sharp intake of breath, he knew he had gone far enough. She hugged herself harder and a sad face not fit of her features flittered its way into their conversation.

"I came her to share the news, Ares," she said. "I had preconceived thoughts you would be happy for me."

There were hundreds of things he could do to make it all different, when the ideas flickered through his mind momentarily. But instinct overtook, as it usually does in war.

"Then, you were wrong."

This was all it took to brake it into pieces.

The tears built up in her eyes would be an image that scarred his mind for wars to come and, as she fled his room without a sigh or whip of goodbye, all Ares could think was this is the reason why war needed forgiveness so dearly.