Leia, I am your father
A/N A tribute to Star Wars which I couldn't pass on...
Olympos had taken her breath away, there was no denying that. Penthesileia might have been impressed with Erebus' Enigma castle when she had come there a bit more than two years ago. However, nothing could have prepared her for this illustrious place. Olympos was so much more than just a few palaces on a mountaintop. It was a complete society, consisting of a small town or a large village, depending on how you saw it, located in the middle of the cropped-off mountaintop. The town encircled parts of a large lake and surrounding it in turn were flourishing meadows and small woods. There were waterfalls streaming down the hillsides and more ponds on the way down. And most of all there were gods.
Up until now, Penthesileia had lived with Erebus and his sister Talsi and the majordomo Gandiar and sometimes Erebus' children and other relatives had come visiting. The Amazon turned goddess had learned how to become a divine fighter and protector and she had learned what being a goddess was all about. Half a year after arriving at Erebus' place, she had also admitted that she couldn't read and write, and thus Talsi had taken upon her to teach the younger goddess that.
The last six months Penthesileia had been travelling the world, seeing more than she had during all her earlier years taken together. Upon realizing the grandness of the world, her little trip from the Amazon lands to Ilium, which had once appeared so impressive, seemed now like just a step of an ant. For a goddess who had been to India and to Briton, from Ethiopia to Thule, the perspectives had become quite different.
Now, with the end of the war in Troy, old alliances had broken apart and gods from all over the place were trying for new positions and areas of interest. So for the first time in years, the great annual ball at Olympos was attracting more than just a few gods with too much time on their hands. Now, everyone was going to Olympos, to ensure they didn't lost their station when the world was changing. Yet, the thirty year old Penthesileia was a goddess without locus, so she had nothing to lose. And everything to win. So urged on by Erebus, she had travelled to the renowned mountaintop, and found herself gawking at the marvelous people of this place.
This was quite a bit more than a row of glass windows or a vast armory and pure-bred horses. It was the very heart of the divine world, and as such it was brimming with deities, doing everything to be seen, heard and to make an impression of the lasting kind. Here, Penthesileia was a nobody, and it felt strangely fine, because it meant that she could hang back and observe. To learn a few useful things before she involved herself for real. So she had let herself be swept away in awe by the impressive and opulent architecture which was the Palace of Zeus. The structure was located at the highest point of the mountaintop, and lit with thousands and thousands of multi-coloured flames of divine light, which made it look like it was floating in the velvet of the night, reflecting itself in the large and still pool in front of it.
Penthesileia crossed the outer courtyard, beholding the most impressive fountain one could imagine, also lit, even from under the water by an profusion of light. A fountain surrounded by several smaller ones, lifted on glass pedestals, which in turn were surrounded by partly gilded marble statues set with precious stones. A spectacular work of art, which she just had to stop and admire, before she urged herself on, through those open doors made out of something outlandish with looked like transparent gold, and further on inside an entrance hall paling everything she had seen earlier. It was immense and ornate in a refined and moderate way; there was something delicate yet robust over the architecture, which was dominated by the whitest of marble melded together with more of that transparent gold material. Lost for words, the Amazon strode up marble stairs with gilded railings and into a ballroom which was so grand that it appeared as if it could have swallowed the complete Enigma castle.
The gigantic hall had no ceiling but raised up through several floorings with walkways and was open to the starry sky. Floating in the air were several chandeliers lit with colourful divine light and set with lines of sparkling crystal beads. On the opposite end of the grand room was a huge waterfall, cascading down a wall made of mirror glass and adorned with even more lamps and flames of divine light, crystal prisms and climbing greenery.
Still the hall itself had nothing against the people gathered in it, the gods themselves. The people here weren't just any gods, but the most important and remarkable gods of the whole world. There were the ones who made out the Olympian Dodekatheon, the Council of Twelve, and then all the more or less noteworthy ones in the long tail of hang-arounds. And so many others, arrived in from all over the world. Gods and goddesses doing all and everything to outshine the one next to them, when it came to clothes, hairs, jewelry and other adornments. Gods and goddesses moving and plotting for positions and trying to raise their own importance in so many ways.
Therefore these star-like beings were politicking with the very same intensity as the warriors had been fighting in the sand outside Troy. Penthesileia felt it in the air; it was sparkling with divine powers, sharp minds cutting like knives trough reality to unfold the secrets others were trying to protect. Slick operators slithering like eels towards their objectives, others stumbling ahead not bothering who they might trample. It was a conceivably precarious place, even for the one who was not actively partaking in the political playoffs, and the Amazon hoped she could protect herself from dangers yet unknown.
Yes, the young goddess soon understood that what she was seeing here was a battlefield. No matter that the duels were not being fought with swords and javelins, but with words and gestures, with risen brows and turned heels, they were in their own way just as fervent and lethal as the slaughter had been down in the real war. If you 'died' here, then you could just pack your things and be gone. To perhaps come back later with a better arsenal, and hope for another chance, in this perilous world of the gods. Meanwhile, the object you fought for would be lost to another god or goddess, who might take it and do what they wanted with it instead.
Trying to remain unnoticed a bit longer, Penthesileia slipped to the left side, and spied the gathered crowds, trying to see if she could recognize any of the gods. When Erebus had taught her to use the sight pool, he had shown her upon the most important of their ilk, gods like Poseidon, Athena, Hermes, Apollo, Aphrodite. Not to mention Zeus himself. And his son Ares. Her father. But try as she might, she had not spotted any remarkable resemblance to herself in him. Tonight Penthesileia blessed that, because it meant that nobody would recognize her before she wanted it to happen. Or so she hoped, knowing that gods had strange and mighty resources, of which she had only learned about a few so far.
There were Apollo and his twin sister Artemis, talking to a trio of gods Penthesileia didn't recognize. Over to the other side, almost by the waterfall, she spotted someone who she thought might be Demeter and a bit away was a lady with flying, blond hair who was obviously Aphrodite. After that she saw that most people were gravitating to a place a little bit to the right of the very centre of the room. There, in the middle of the thong, she could feel the presence of the great Zeus himself and his Queen Hera, even if she didn't see any of them. But no Ares. Wasn't he here today, was he out there somewhere fighting another war? That made her feel oddly disappointed, even if she wasn't really sure she was prepared to meet with the God of War. After all what was she really going to say to him?
No, first of all, she was going to pay Great Zeus her respect. There was no reason postponing that encounter, when she had finally come here to Olympos. And since Erebus had chosen against going in the last minute, there was nobody introducing her, so she had to do that all by herself.
This was almost scarier than when she had gone up against Achilles, she thought. No, make that even more scary. When she had faced Achilles, she had known she was going to die – or at least that had been her certain thought back then. An inevitable faith she had prepared for and finally became as primed for as one can possibly become. Including for the pain and the horror it would bring. Because no matter how petrifying the concept had seemed, it had been a known one, something she had understood and had been able to evaluate. While she had no idea of what to expect when facing the very King of the Gods. She had no known experiences from earlier in her life to match this with. Meeting Erebus had been like facing a wise teacher to be, someone who had welcomed her, and no matter that the divine life back then had been all new and all strange, she had gone to meet him knowing that he was expecting her and that he knew enough of her to receive her as the one she was.
But what would lord Zeus say to this nobody Amazon who had come here in hope of understanding a bit more of the new world she was now living in? And perhaps meeting the God of War who had sired her? She didn't have a clue, and that scared her. Still, she braved herself through the gathering of gods, noting with a slight surprise that there were quite a few checking her out. Was that because she was a new face or was it her chose of dress? Early on, Penthesileia had disregarded the elaborated peploses of the divine ladies, and instead settled for a short chiton in a silvery material which hugged to her body in a complimentary form, showing off the strong body of a warrior maiden. That outfit was chosen to hint at her assumed independence. To show that she was able to fight for herself, should that be necessary. At the same time she displayed her complete disinterest in the maneuvering most people here were involved in. She was not one playing their game, and as such she was no threat to them.
A few women stepped to the side, goddesses with their voices ringing with laughter, their sparkling dresses ranging from turquoise to primary blue. One of them she recognized as Selene, the oldest among the deities of the Moon Order, those gods and goddesses who managed the weather during the night. For a fleeting moment their eyes met, and Penthesileia thought she recognized curiosity in the silver blue of the platinum blonde goddess' eyes.
And there he was. Zeus. King of the gods. Standing together with Hera and talking to another couple, a dark skinned god with red robes and an elaborated and heavy-looking golden headdress and a woman on his arm, who was just as dark skinned but a bit more moderately dressed. However Penthesileia hardly saw those or the other deities waiting in the informal line, she was preoccupied with regarding the God of Thunder. He had a way of carrying himself which was imposing and relaxed at the same time. As if he knew he had no need for showing off. He could stand there with his Queen on his arm and listen to the other god's elaborated chatter and return some interesting replies before dismissing him and his entourage to let the next ones in. They were an uneasy-looking one-eyed man and a plump redhead woman who looked like a cross between Penthesileia's old friend Polemousa and Briseis, a war booty woman of Achilles, whom he later had to turn over to Agamemnon.
Those, Penthesileia knew, were Odin and Friga, gods of the Norse, living somewhere up in the Ural Mountains. And it was obvious it was the latter who was the number one in that pantheon. Friga did all the talking, she had an animated body language and a self-assured way of carrying herself which spoke of the same no-nonsense attitude Penthesileia remembered from her amazon tribe woman, and she suddenly felt home-sick for her old life. Did this Friga hail from the Amazons, or did she just have the same assertiveness?
After the Norse duo came some talkative, aquatic gods and then some other dark skinned ones, one of them holding on to a blue helmet in the shape of an elephant head. Then, suddenly Penthesileia found that it was her turn to speak to the King. Gathering courage, she addressed him and Hera the way she had heard the rest of the people doing. And while she wasn't plucky like Friga, she didn't let politeness, protocol – or nerves get in the way of the fact that she was not here to scrape her feet or play politics, just to pay her new ruler due respect.
"Penthesileia," Zeus echoed her name, as she bowed in front of him and Hera. "Pleased to meet you, young lady! Orianthe told me about you a while back. Said you were staying with Lord Erebus. He did not come with you here today?"
"No, he was – slightly held up. He sends his regards."
"Give the same ones back then," Hera replied and Penthesileia faced the Queen, took in her features for real. Just as they said, she was exceedingly beautiful, probably the most radiant woman Penthesileia had ever seen and her saturated, darker colours were a striking divergence to the fair, sapphire eyed King, as if these two were made to contrast each other.
"Will do, my Queen," the Amazon smiled and apparently the god to the right of her had interpreted Hera's words as a dismissal, because he took a step ahead, to address the royal couple. But as he did, Hera turned her torso ever so slightly, a peacock feathered fan snapping out and almost hitting the new arrival, as it framed up in front of her. With a surprised, almost angered expression the slender, raven-haired god took a step to the right before he composed himself, doing his best to not show that he had been cornered out.
Feeling a concerned, almost frightful tick across her brow, Penthesileia gazed into the chestnut eyes of the Queen.
"You are one of the daughters of our Ares," Hera stated as a matter of fact. "One of the brave and independent Amazons."
"That is true, my Queen," Penthesileia replied, feeling her troth starting to dry up.
"How come you chose this life?" Hera's eyes were now genuinely curious, and that made Penthesileia feel quite a bit better. The royal couple was not content with small talking with her but wanted to know a bit about her for real.
"Honestly, it was a quick decision," Penthesileia admitted. "Perhaps too quick. Truthfully spoken, I was afraid to die. That might sound strange, most people believe that my kind do not fear death. Which might be true on an abstract level. But there I was with a sword cut through my belly and it suddenly became very real. And I became very afraid. And then SHE came. Orianthe. Daughter of Hermes, making her my cousin, which I learned later. She offered me a chance to opt out. A chance I took."
"Was it the right choice?" Zeus asked, and Penthesileia sensed more than saw that others had stopped to listen to their exchange.
"Milord, the first weeks I doubted it, almost regretted it," she truthfully replied. "But not anymore. I've seen so many amazing things over those two years since I 'died' down there in Ilium. I've learned so much. However I feel that with every new thing I learn there are two more I desire to master. I never thought life was so grand, the world was so great. Therefore I am delightful for this opportunity."
"Very well spoken, Penthesileia," Zeus said, and it was not just flatter. "I've take it you have yet to meet your father though."
"Ares," again she felt her troth contract. "I believe he's not here. At least I have not seen him.
"He is due a while later," Hera replied. "After the dinner. He is very busy with a new settlement in Latium. But rest assure, granddaughter, I will make him find you."
"Thank you!" Penthesileia couldn't help beam, moved by the sudden warmness in the voice of the Queen.
O0O0O
She was beginning to feel fatigued. All those people, all those strange faces, new names, unexpected conversations. The lavish dinner, the dance and the music. The exotic drinks. The lights and the shadows, the warmth in the room, everything was slowly beginning to get to her, unused as she was to such an event. In her heart and soul, Penthesileia was still an Amazon. She was an outdoors woman, she was used to dress utilitarian (although she had to admit there was something very utilitarian to the finery of all these gods. These were clothes to show-off in, arms to protect them against their insecurities) and she was used to the harsh and direct sound of clashing arms rather than to the complicated stratagems of the oral skirmishes. She recognized the meekly shrouded insults and understood that they could stab the opponent as bad as any sword, that the gossip worked like maneuvers to undermine enemies as well as strengthen your own position. Naturally she knew that she has to learn the rules and the martial arts of this kind of battle as well.
Moving counter-clockwise through the grand hall, she had seen more than a dozen people fall on this battle field, defeated as utterly as she had been back in Ilium, when Achilles had put his sword through her belly. In a way these fatalities must hurt worse, because you got to hear the talk afterwards. And while in a war, a fallen hero got paid some respect, those who lost here faced nothing but mockery. She had seen that with the raven haired man who Hera had cut out. He was called Eridanus. Then there were some other faces and names as well, deities who had bit the rug – figuratively speaking of course.
And she, Penthesileia the Amazon, she had used a skill she had possessed already as a warrior maiden and refined even more as a goddess. She slipped through the crowds, fast and agile. Observing and taking note, while not letting herself be noticed more than necessary. People complemented her on her dress, and she found that Artemis wore something similar. Artemis, whom she had briefly spoken to, as well as Apollo, Hermes, Athena and Hestia. She spent a little longer with Dionysos and a few of his hang-arounds, they had been drunk and merry and she warmed oddly to their garrulous posse. But since Penthesileia had never liked alcohol that much, she had soon felt that this wasn't her club, and moved on.
Next thing she encountered some other people from half way across the world, only to quickly back out, because they were nothing but rude, annoyed with her way of displaying her body. As if that was any of their problem. She really didn't want to draw attention to herself with some kind of brawl, but she couldn't resist pointing out that the most loud mouthed of those swarthy gods wasn't very clad either and that his hairy upper body was not exactly handsome to look at. That made the man even more fervent and she almost expected him to pull that blade he carried by his side. Quickly she recollected what Erebus had taught her about defending herself using nothing but her hands and feet. That made her feel quite assured that she could handle this uncouth man who was obviously the leader of this strangely uniform all-male group.
But nothing like that was needed, because the stranger didn't challenge her, only told her to watch her mouth, saying something about them being somewhere else than in the halls of Zeus, he would've taught her a lesson. Was that a way to throw down the gauntlet? Penthesileia wasn't sure and she didn't want to learn, because no matter that she felt quite assured that she could defeat this braggart, she was not here to draw any attention. So she only replied something about not having any use for lessons from barbarians before leaving these men to their own devices.
It was then the music and the dancing started. The most lovely of music, performed not unexpectedly by Apollo himself and his group of muses. Nine women of incredible talents. Penthesileia had heard about them, but this was the first time she got to listen to them for real. And they sure were mesmerizing. For the first time ever did she regret that she didn't know how to dance. However, she didn't despair that much over it, these days she knew she could take the time to learn. Instead she had been content with sitting down together with some others by a table close to the stage and just listen to the miracle sounds filling the air.
Gladly she let the delightful music carry her away. With half-closed eyes she lost herself in the beauty and excitement of the melodies, enjoyed the lyrics and felt her foot tap out the rhythms on the floor, never had she been so affected by music, never had she thought that tunes and melodies, rhythms and chords could have such an impact upon her. Back with the Amazons, music had mostly been a tool for picking up the mood and to enhance comradeship, a help to carry on with long marches and to cope after battle. There had also been the jeering derision songs about the enemies, more a psychological weapon than anything else.
At Erebus' place there had been Talsi's lyre. She had taken that one out in the evenings and played and sung some heartwretchingly sad songs. Still Talsi had nothing against Apollo and his music. Although he didn't do any sad songs tonight, Penthesileia felt certain that he could manage those as well.
Then suddenly there was someone poking her upon the shoulder, and she turned, facing a tall, brunette woman in a colourful dress and large, glittering hazel eyes set in a delicate, heart-shaped face.
"Hi," the tall goddess said and Penthesileia turned to acknowledge her. "I'm Iris."
"Hi Iris, I'm Penthesileia," the Amazon replied.
"I know. Actually, I've got someone who wants to meet you, and who sent me to find you."
"Who?" Penthesileia asked, hoping it wasn't that bare-chested idiot she had encountered earlier. But no, it was nothing like that.
"It's your father. Ares," Iris made a movement with her had in a backwards rightish direction. "He'd really like to meet you."
"Now?" she asked, while a thousand of thoughts passed through her mind. Why now? Well, why not now, another voice was saying to her. He might not have cared earlier, however she couldn't deny that she was curious about the man who had sired her. She wanted to see him, at least to fit in one more piece into the complicated jigsaw puzzle which was her life these days. So she stood up from the stool and nodded to Iris. "All right, let's go then."
Iris smiled back, almost encouraging and the next moment Penthesileia found herself following the colourfully dressed woman across the large hall and out on a terrace, where a few people were sitting by a round table, drinking and talking, looking very much like they were all having a good time. As the two goddesses closed in on the table, a tall, brawny man stood up from his place. He was dark in colours, his hair almost black and worn in a ponytail down his back, and he had same chiseled handsomeness as Zeus. It was easy in fact to see that these men were related, if you disregarded the colours. Those came from the Queen Hera.
"Ares," Iris said and faced the tall man. "This is Penthesileia of the Amazons." At those words the face of the tall god lit up like a bonfire.
"Lord Ares?" Penthesileia heard her own voice, it sounded strange for some reason.
"Penthesileia," the god replied. "No need for formalities here! Leia, I'm your father!"