Written for FrUK Week 2018 Day 2: Greek God AU
France represents Athena, while (fem!) England represents Ares. I chose this representation because I didn't want to do the obvious God of Love/God of Sea choosing (although I do like it). But mostly because Ares represents the untamed, wild aspect of war while Athena is the refined, strategic planning of it. Naturally, they had a fierce rivalry. Ares is despised by all the gods (and worshippers) in Greek mythos, while Athena is loved. FrUK fits so well :)
γλυκιά μου is Ancient Greek for my sweet.
When the double-doors to his library slam open, shaking dust from his ceiling and spreading a faint tremor through rows and rows of bookshelves, Athena doesn't start. "You'll regret that once a book falls from its shelf, γλυκιά μου ," he warns with false honey.
From behind him, he hears a scoff. "I pray for that day and welcome it gladly," comes the dismissive voice.
"And who would someone as arrogant as you ever pray to?"
Athena can feel his visitor come up next to him, but he keeps his eyes trained on the battlefront ahead of him. "Why, myself, of course," she says mockingly, stopping besides him.
The grand circular table in front of Athena is laden with books strewn across, somehow giving an orderly appearance despite the chaos. In the center lies a map depictingEuropa , with various threads and military tokens criss-crossing over it.
His attention is forcibly diverted as a rough hand grabs at his chin, pulling his face forward. There's a sticky residue coating the fingers gripping his jaw, and Athena easily breaks the hold with a snarl, more annoyed at the disturbance than the disrespect. Raucous laughter fills the silence. "Admit it, Athena—you have missed me."
Next to him stands Ares, in all her savage glory. Her hair falls out of her thick braids like a wild lion's mane, caked in the blood that's splashed over her armor and fingers. She meets his gaze with a vicious grin, eyes gesturing downwards to her sword leaking a mess over his carpet. Undoubtedly, she has come from the same battlefield which is depicted in front of him, victory settling about her shoulders like a monarch's cloak.
To Ares, any outcome that continued the massacre was victory.
"Any god would think you raised by wolves, should they see your, ah, splendid glory," he says. Rather than let her continue to foul his carpet (and possibly even the spread in front of them—he can see the longing in her eyes to coat it with blood, a parallel to the destruction beneath them) he waves his hand, and the human-made armor she wears melts away, revealing the white peplos the goddesses of Olympus don. Ares huffs in annoyance, crossing her hands over her chest.
"There's no glory to be fond in stuffy libraries like these, Athena," Ares says. "Once, you would've have fought me below, but now you keep away to your scrolls and maps, out of what? Disdain for humans? Or," she leans bitingly close to him, "do you fear defeat at my hands? Surprised at how powerful I've become?"
"There's no surprise to be found with you," Athena says with a sneer. It curls his lips, and Ares hates how much she likes the look on him. "Your bloodthirst clouds your mind."
"And your mind begs for respite," Ares replies stubbornly. "What use is all your insight if you stay here in Olympus?"
"Alas, I don't think your primitive brain can comprehend this," he patronizes, "but knowledge can be shared. There is no need to personally present myself to humans."
"Leaving me alone on the battlefront? And here I thought my prayers would never be answered!" Ares smirks. "Is it time for me to take me to take your mantle?"
Athena turns towards her with lecherous look in his eye. "If you desire to sit upon my chair so desperately, you need but ask. I promise to keep you well entertained atop of me."
Predictably, Ares' cheeks turn unwittingly red, her mouth twisting. "It's a shame your books can't teach you how to do so." She sniffs with some semblance of dignity. "Honestly, you're more shameless than Aphrodite."
Athena fluidly stands up from his chair, one arm easily wrapping around Athena's waist as he presses close to her. "You never seem to mind too much," he says, looking down at her.
"Being cooped up here is addling your mind," she scowls, with no real heat to her words. Ares tries to twist away but Athena grabs her arm with his other hand, pinning it against the table. "Don't you start his now," Ares begins to threaten, but Athena cuts her off with an easy kiss, swallowing her words. Despite her previous objections, she kisses back, free hand gripping the table behind her.
"You're trying to distract me," Ares pants in between kisses. Athena ignores her, moving to press kisses down the side of her neck. Ares lets out a muffled keen, as if trying to eliminate the sound entirely. "Athena— Athena ," she says, pushing him off.
He leans back, eyebrows pushed together in a crossed stare. Ares meets his gaze, despite the twist in her stomach. "Apollo's told me that you're never going back to the battlefield," she says abruptly.
Athena's eyes flutter close, and he releases a deep breath, composing himself. Ignoring her statement, he begins to clean up the military spread on the table, shuffling army markers into a tin and rolling up the map.
Pushing off the table, Ares moves to corner him. "Well?" she asks. "Is it true?"
"It's best if you leave," Athena remarks, former affection void in his voice.
Ares' face scrunches up, chest swelling, and Athena distantly thinks of how she hasn't changed a bit since she was a child. " It's best if I leave? How can you say that?!" Athena remains silent. Ares' eyes flash, and she knocks over the heavy ornamental chair he had been sitting on as if it's weightless. "Answer me, damn you!" she shouts, hitting the table with a force that shudders it dangerously.
Athena looks at her and selfishly thinks of how beautiful she is when she loses control (when he makes her angry). "Tell me, Ares," he says tauntingly, finally giving a response. "Do you feel as though you're doing anything worthwhile when you sow destruction as a human ? When the soldiers you fight for and fight against barely know you? You haven't donned your golden armor in decades. Instead you cut your hair and pretend to be someone you will never be, because there is no place for you in that world anymore."
Ares looks stunned for a moment, as if this is the first time she's heard it put into words. Athena presses on, wanting nothing more to see her angry and upset. They'll fight and then fuck, and the whole cycle repeats over and over, as certain as humanity's predisposition for war. "You thought—no, perhaps hoped — that I would not notice you changing your appearance. That I would lack the knowledge of what you do on the surface, perhaps? If you call me delusional, it is but a reflection of yourself."
Ares snaps. "At least I do not hide on Olympus, pretending to be too great for humans who never call my name!" Her voice rises to a slight hysteria in the end, and Athena knows he's hurt her. "You secretly supply strategy and reward the more cunning side, as if they asked for either your help or your blessing."
"All humans seek knowledge," Athena corrects in that infuriating tone of his. "They do not need to call me by name for me to hear them."
"I know that," Ares interrupts harshly. "It's why we still exist. Yet when humans call me, I fight for them."
Athena looks down at her through half-lidded eyes. "You seek destruction by any hand, but above all...you crave being wanted, Ares. Afraid that if you don't return to the battlefield, your legend will never spread. Or," he says, closing the gap between them. "Are you afraid I've outgrown you?"
She stared defiantly back at him, and he holds her glare. After a few moments, she shakes her head, breathing out a laugh. "No, that's your fear. Aren't I correct?" Athena doesn't respond, but they've known each other long enough for Ares to deduce the answer from his expression. "After all, to be is to be perceived. If you aren't there to see them forgetting you, preferring me, is it really happening?"
She steps away from him, assessing him from a distance. "They will," she promises, with characteristic arrogance. "And hiding here won't protect you from that reality."
A breeze blows through closed windows, and she's gone in a flash, taking the last word with her. For a moment, Athena stares at the blank space where she had been standing. In the next, he wordlessly wraps up his belongings, leaving as well.
They're not done with each other. Not yet, not ever.