"Come on, boy. Let's see what you can do." The flame headed war god yelled at the teenager before him. He had certainly grown from when they had kidnapped him several years ago, sure Zeus knew he was down here, but that was as far as his knowledge took him. The King of the Gods had no idea that Ares was training the Marked One they had captured in order to fulfill his destiny and destroy Olympus.
Deimos, hardened from his years training in Death's Domain, charged at Ares, meeting him in hand-to-hand combat, fighting as though his life depended on it, and as far as he was concerned, it did. He knew that if he showed any sign of weakness, the God would not hesitate to kill him. So he fought, and he fought hard, throwing targeted and calculated punches and blocking as best he could against such a powerful opponent. Sometime later, when he was sweating profusely and his breathing was labored Ares stopped their training. Deimos rubbed at a few new bruises he gained from this session.
"Very good, you have shown excellent improvement. I believe you're ready to begin weapons training." He turned and whistled sharply, the sound echoing around the Domain. The whistle was answered with the sound of beating wings. Then out of the darkness emerged a large black winged goddess, her bronze breastplate decorated with the image of an apple tree, its apples made of gold. Her face was beautiful, but in a way that scared Deimos, her hair was made of flames like her brother, but these burned black with hate and destruction.
"You called brother?" The woman asked Ares. Her glare settling on the boy beside him, he was used to Ares, but this woman gave off an aura that made him feel alternating feelings of bloodlust or for him to do better than everyone else.
"Yes, Eris, after training him for the past several years, I believe he is ready for a weapon. I was thinking a set of gauntlets for him, powerful and while slow, his strength will make them easier to wield than your average mortal."
"As you wish, brother." She disappeared back into the darkness cackling. She returned not too long later, carrying a pair of dark grey gauntlets. "Here, the Gauntlets of Discord, one of the most powerful weapons a mortal can wield. Use them wisely." The gauntlets themselves were made to look like large skeletal hands, decorated with glowing purple runes, they radiated power, giving off the same aura as the Goddess who forged them.
Donning the large gauntlets he prepared for instruction. Ares instead, charged at him, wielding his sword of fire. Which he caught in his gauntleted hand, the flames not bothering him in the slightest, the pressure from the powerful God of War however, proved too much and he started sliding toward the edge of the cliff. The solitary circular landmass was his living quarters and training room, about fifty feet wide and made of rock with a reddish hue. Grunting he began to push back with all his might, finding reserves of strength he did not even know he had and pushed the god back, pulling the energy from his anger, this god kidnapped him, tortured him, beat him every day and called it 'training', this God made a mistake though, he had given him the gauntlets, he had given him power; power that he could use to kill the god and escape this prison.
Ares saw the determination in the boy's face and smiled, the smile quickly turned into a grimace when his sword was ripped from his grasp and thrown over the edge. And his face was met with a heavy metallic fist and set him stumbling. He tried to tell young Deimos that training was over for the day and that he was impressed but the boy did not let up. He swung at the God's legs and knocked him down, then jumped on his chest threw punch after punch at his face, hoping to crush his skull beneath his fists.
Then there was a miniature explosion the sent Deimos flying, he hit the ground and kept rolling right over the edge, the rocks scraped and cut him up as he tumbled down the steep slope, then just as he thought he would hit the ground and die, his descent was stopped and he began to rise. Ares had brought him back up and was looking at him, hatred burning in his eyes, and with a flash of fire they were teleported into the middle of a small room. The only beings in it were him and the War God and a tall dark haired God standing before them both.
"Hello Lord Ares, what brings you to my temple?" The Dark Being said in a raspy voice that set Deimos' teeth grinding.
"The whelp needs to be taught a lesson, so I figured he could use a lifetime of imprisonment in the Temple, Thanatos." Ares told the man, now known to Deimos as Thanatos, God of Death.
Thanatos grunted his agreement and disappeared with a sound of feathers rustling. Deimos then felt himself floating upwards toward the ceiling when chains burst forth from the walls and wrapped themselves around his gauntleted wrists, gauntlets he used to try and free himself from the chains, to no avail. Ares laughed at him, deep and menacingly and disappeared also, leaving Deimos alone with his thoughts. Thoughts that became corrupted with resentment and bitterness, as the years flew by, passing in the blink of an eye, his body maturing, his wounds and birthmark festering with the same corruption as his mind.
There is a brief moment, a small blip, when Ares had returned to offer him armor and another chance to fight for him, which he accepted, doing small deeds within the Domain, never allowed to leave, never given any more chance for escape until Deimos' anger grew once again, to near unbearable levels and turned on the God again, with the same result as last time.
Hanging in the Temple, wrapped in chains, trapped in the Domain of Death, never eating, never drinking, and never dying. And then his brother Kratos had shown up and finally freed him, but Deimos' twisted mind turned on him like a hungry animal. And then he followed after he and Thanatos on to those cliffs and fought the Death God. Then nothing, nothing but darkness.