Written for the prompt Any, a Trickster, mischief managed (or not).
Aite fled the crumbling temple, cackling, and darted hurriedly behind her Uncle, who stiffened at the wind of her passage and whirled in time to catch Athena's blade on his own.
"You want a war with me? You have it!" Athena thundered at them both, her teeth bared, then turned sharply on her heel and stormed away.
Aite giggled, pressing her face against Uncle's shoulder. "Do you think," Ares said to her, chuckling, "she will ever realise that is exactly I want, which they always give me?"
Aite is a minor goddess, Eris' daughter, of mischief, delusion, folly, and ruin.
This one has minor edits from the original posting.
