Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Greek gods/goddesses, or the Fates, or King Richard III – so please don't sue me!
My attempt at a 'serious' story – though it's only a short one, maybe even just the beginning of one.
Think Greek gods interfering with the death of English Kings – history mixed with fantasy, and that's what this is.
Author Comment – please read!
Completely different from my normal style of writing, and I'm afraid I'm not updating any of my other work at the moment – my muse appears to have directed herself elsewhere.
Last Stand
The rain lashed down, vicious, as it slaked the aching land's thirst. As the wind howled through the gnarled trees that stood sentry, the fading light lit upon the gouges that ran through the ground, causing them to resemble the marks of giant claws. Similar in result to that of some great beast ripping through the clods of soil in savage joy, with no intention other than scarring the earth's face.
Bodies lay in heaps, limbs torn from their sockets like trees uprooted by a passing storm – blood spilled as carelessly as a discarded goblet of wine.
Opposite the scraggly grey trees a sombre party had begun the arduous task of combing through the dirt-caked flesh that used to be people: the servants sent to clean up the spillage before their demanding master returned.
Throwing empty shells of armour aside, the motley gang of blanche-faced men searched for the bodies of their people. Grouping the body parts together with careful movements, solemn helpers hastily wrapped the gruesome gifts in flapping sheets of white. This, the only consolation they could offer, that would have any kind of meaning to the grieving families.
A slight stirring at the feet of the bowed trees, and a hoarse moan showed someone still stubbornly hung on to life. Hearing the noise, the observer tensed in surprise, sure there had been no spark of life there a moment before. As the fragile figure of a woman stepped closer to the fine boundary between woodland and field, dead leaves crunched under her bare feet.
Green linen brushed skeletal branches, and the swish of cloth was soon accompanied by the sound of light feet. Brown eyes widened with alarm when the scent of death reached her moist nose, and tawny fur flashed as the doe nervously danced back from the battlefield. Barely sparing her nervous companion a glance, the young woman continued forwards, lifting the bottom of her chiton to clear the decomposing foliage on the packed dirt floor. Finally able to see who on the field still lived, the goddess of the hunt's green eyes widened, and she sucked in a breath of astonishment.
In a crumpled heap of red-streaked skin lay the very man who had first drawn her to this place. Dark eyelashes fluttered, and she caught a brief glimpse of brown eyes – the only part of the man's face untouched by blood.
A rustle of wings overhead drew her gaze, and a glimmer of emotion flickered across the young woman's face upon recognition of the ebony feathers. A blast of heat and the acrid scent of carrion heralded the arrival of someone she'd been hoping to avoid on this trip.
An Irish wolfhound with blood on its teeth snarled at the skittish doe, sending the scared animal to cower behind the woman in green.
"Ares! Control your beast"
The incorrigible god who went by the name 'Ares' stepped from behind a sturdy oak tree. Dark eyes matched his dark hair, but the black of his knee-length chiton still made him look like a pale wraith: a pale wraith that could kill in a heartbeat, judging by the white-knuckle grip his callused hand had on a devilishly sharp spear. The battered-looking sword slung across his broad back also stood testament to his fighting abilities.
White teeth flashed in an expression eerily reminiscent of the wolfhound's snarl, but, despite the allusion to humour, the man's voice contained a brittle, cold tone when he spoke.
"I have perfect control over my beasts. You, however, seem to lack even a minimum of self-control. Therefore, I think it's a good thing your beast has so…tame a nature. Anything else would surely try your powers to the limit."
Clenched fists revealed her rage at the insult, but any conflict failed to show on her delicate features. "What are you doing here, Ares"
"I am the god of war. My powers may be dwindling as the fighting lessens, but my body is ever-ready to answer a call to battle, and the compulsion to join the fighting is as strong as it always was." Raising a hand, Ares stopped her interruption before it was fully formed. "Yes, I know this was only a single battle – and you are doubtless wondering why I only came for this one, and not sooner to witness the whole event.
"Truthfully, this was the only one which I sensed had an important outcome. All the others were pitiful, and nowhere near ruthless enough to heat my blood and counter the bitter chill of this country. This fight alone wasn't enough to draw me here either. Do you want to know what was enough, little nymph"
Emotion crept across her marble expression like a gathering storm. It didn't pay to annoy the goddess of the hunt. "How many times must I tell you? Don't call me 'nymph' – I am as godly as you – and I am not little"
"Very well – my dear lover of helpless little creatures, do you want to know what drew me here" Amusement thawed some of the ice in his gaze, and the slight curl of Ares' lips let the miniature goddess know how much he enjoyed riling her.
"Unless you call me by my true name, I shall never ask what you mean me to."
Familiar with the sparring, she finally shifted her stance. Folding her arms across her stomach, green cloth brushed against the doe at her back.
Her defiant posture was briefly subjected to Ares' critical eye, before he relented under the emerald eyes he knew so well.
"Fine! My dear, beloved, Artemis, exquisite goddess of the moon and the hunt…do you want to know what it was that drew me to this battle"
Satisfied, she spun around and carried on walking, a"Not particularly" thrown over her shoulder.
Ares' amusement vanished in a heartbeat and he growled under his breath, the sound echoed by the grey wolfhound at his side. The doe, frightened once more by the threatening noise, bounded after her mistress: preferring the stench of blood and death to what was behind her.
Ignoring the appearance of expected, stabbing, pain, the god of war set off after the frustrating goddess and her loyal follower; shuddering as the cold wind of scepticism bit slightly deeper into his soul.
Only this country carried such a chill. Created by the thousands of voices which rose in prayer to a God few believed in, the countless children raised on a faith out of duty rather than passion… – the resultant fug of emptiness that shrouded England normally proved an adequate deterrent for the gods. However, with the younger gods, who didn't feel the rejection of faith as deeply, intervention was sometimes necessary…though Zeus was normally the one to intervene.
As Artemis halted over the body of a man, Ares caught up with her, slowing down and banishing the unhealthy blue tint his skin had acquired before the younger goddess saw it, and wondered about it.
"I came because you were here."
The slender back tensed almost imperceptibly, but the god of war was born to notice such things, and he continued talking, brain automatically noting how vulnerable she was with her back to him. "When I first felt the call of battle I ignored it, knowing where it came from. Then I felt another of our kind answer to it, and I grew curious. Imagine my surprise to find out it was you who had ventured to this land – then imagine how much more surprised I was when I realised why you came.
"Not for the battle, which would almost be understandable, given you are goddess of the hunt – but for a man! Not just any man, but a soon-to-be toppled King"
Staring at the creamy skin on the back of her neck, Ares willed her to answer his unspoken question. In response to her mistress' emotions the doe pranced on the spot, brown eyes flashing wildly as she sensed but could not see the trap about to close around her.
"It's not what you think…"
At the almost-calm words, Ares froze. Speaking deliberately, he acknowledged the fresh heat coursing through his veins, with a renewal of his verbal attack. "Then what is it? What drove you to come here, far from our home, to this place where none of our kind are welcomed? Did you not think of the dangers? Young you may be, but nobody is ever that stupid! If Zeus were to find out about this…"
"I know" Yelling now, the slight figure spun around, once more the spitting fireball who struck fear in the hearts of many. "Of course I know! – How could you think I would not? But it is not as simple as you make out"
"Yes, it is that simple! They fought, and you came running – how much simpler can it get"
"He called to me!"
After the last, desperate, cry, she stopped and took a calming breath. Willing her voice not to shake, she pled her case.
"He called to me. We all know what such a thing means: impossible though this is to believe – he worships me still! I cannot abandon one of my followers in their time of need, regardless of where they owe their allegiance. It is their hearts they've pledged to me"
All anger and sarcasm fled in the face of the woman's revelation. "But, we can't intervene…" Incomprehension suffused his face. "…You know we can't, so why? Why would you come? When you knew you could do nothing"
For a lifetime she stood silent, gaze down-turned as she kept watch over the dying mortal. The wind whipped her curls back and tugged at her gown, but she stood firm as a rooted tree. A tear slipped from one of the doe's eyes, and a dark stain in the light fur tracked its fall.
"So I could observe…and remember. That much, at least, I can do."
A small whimsical smile curved her pink lips, and for a moment she looked much older and wiser than anyone Ares had ever seen.
The wind suddenly roared into a frenzy, screaming like a thing brought to tortuous life. Cold like he'd only known once before seized Ares' body. One glance down showed the ground to be white-tipped, where before it had been brown. Following the trail of frost as it spread ever outward, the man couldn't find even a chuckle in him when he saw how Artemis yelped and jumped as the cold touched her bare feet.
Only once in his long life had Ares felt such a chill, and he'd hoped never to feel it again. But even the gods were subject to the fates, and palsied things like 'hope' weren't enough to halt the tide of change.
"You can do much more than observe, my child."
The light, almost musical, voice, appeared to be completely at odds with the frost that heralded her arrival…until one noticed the sharp edge of winter with which it was coated. Having the foresight to brace himself, Ares slowly turned around.
An impractical chiton of pure white silk clung to curves that seemed to fade in and out of reality, and the tumbling ice-blonde hair framed a face that was not so much beautiful as lacking any kind of substance to make it beautiful or ugly. A blank void. That's what Ares was reminded of when seeing the fate of things that are to be.
Atropos, most feared of all the fates. It was said she saw all, and her knowledge of everything showed in the way her form appeared to be in a constant state of flux: always changing, adapting so quickly she always remained indistinct.
Recovering herself first, Artemis glanced down at the man by her feet to assure herself the cold wasn't hastening his death, then looked at the powerful figure with curiosity. "What do you mean, I can do more"
Head flung back, Atropos laughed. The sound rang out with the joyousness of a child, and the sharp edge of a knife. Ares couldn't stop himself from flinching, and mentally cursed when it drew him to the attention of the misty grey eyes.
A smirk flickered across her face, and the fate taunted him with the knowledge of the reaction she caused in him. The slipping of time tugged at Atropos' senses, and, within the blink of an eye, she had dismissed him from her mind and returned to her mission.
"The man who called to you. The now-fallen King. He is the one you prepare to mourn for, but you can do much more than that for him."
"What can I do? I shouldn't even be here to begin with, and it's certainly too late to intervene…"
Impatience crossed her face, and Atropos remembered why she disliked dealing with the gods so much. Their endless questioning.
"Forget the rules for a moment, and just listen. This King Richard will be the last King to die on this land in battle, ever. Such an event is monumental, even to those of us beyond such things, and as such has to be marked in some way. The manner in which this one should be marked I believe you've already decided, but with this information you'll be able to explain your actions before Zeus, and avoid punishment."
Waiting a moment for her words to sink in, she kept careful track of the ticking minutes, knowing the timing for this had to be spot on. Just as she saw the flash of lightning in the distance, as Zeus discovered where his two subjects were, a spark leapt to life in Artemis' green eyes, and Atropos knew she understood.
"Now you have your excuses, it is up to you to look after your charge. I have no doubt you will make an excellent job of it, Artemis."
Just as Ares' head snapped up in understanding, Atropos began to leave, her trademark frost lingering long enough to slow the god of war's reflexes, so that by the time he reached the side of the fallen King Richard III and the bending Artemis, it was much too late.
A blinding pulse of light concealed the two figures from sight, and spread out across the land for as far as Ares could see, momentarily warming the chilled party of men still recovering their dead from the field.
As one man dressed in rags looked up from his task, his sharp blue eyes caught a glimpse of the strangest bird he'd ever seen – black feathered, with a white ruff and a bald head. It had to be the ugliest bird in existence. Yet there appeared to be a certain grace to it, as it swooped down into the woodland on the far side of the field.
Waiting for the vulture to catch up with him, Ares took one last look at the goddess of the hunt and her new godling. Artemis was going to have a lot of explaining to do when Zeus caught up with her, and he knew better than to stay where he wasn't wanted.
One thing Ares remembered was that things never stayed simple once the fates got involved. And things were definitely about to get complicated, now that the only English god, ever, had been created. Given the way his blood was heating up once more, Ares knew Artemis was about to have a big fight on her hands, but, as he hefted his spear for the journey, he wondered if she realised he would always be on her side should she call to him for a change.
Please RR, even if you just want to yell at me for not updating my other works – I still like to know what people think. Here, have a cookie offers plate of raisin cookies, they're yummy and slightly healthy!