CHAPTER XXVII

[Warning: Dark, Mature Content]

Author's Note: Thank you to those who have continued to support this story. I haven't been the most consistent in uploading due to a hectic work schedule, but I do intend on completing this story as there is much in store. If you'd like, you can support me on -buy me a coffee-, but you are absolutely within your right not to. I will be no less encouraged to keep writing until the very end.

'How many centuries has it been since Zeus called for something like this?' Dionysus glanced about at the servants bustling past.

'It's been millennia, I'm sure. Probably has something to do with the beast attacks,' Hermes fought the urge to chew his nail.

'With every week their frequency increases,' Demeter huffed, her nose in the air, 'you'd think this palace would have come up with some sort of action plan by now. All of this stress is bad for me and the crops.'

'Are you alright?' Apollo looked down at his sister. She glanced at him.

'I'm fine,' she said tersely, '…just a little nervous is all.'

'There's no reason to be,' he smiled gently, his face looking pale.

Ares leaned against one of the pillars in the foyer just outside of The Great Olympian Hall. Even after all these centuries of disuse, the looming ornate doors of that hall had not collected even a speck of dust. He huffed, resting his head against the pillar, and allowed his gaze to fall upon the gaggle of Olympians, closely huddled together.

They spoke hurriedly, eyes darting about the palace walls as if they had never been there before. Demeter's theatrical huffing and puffing failed to belie her disquiet, every few minutes Hermes took a rag to his damp brow and for the first time since Ares' birth, Dionysus almost seemed sober. In hushed tones, Artemis grouched about Apollo's incessant doting yet remained close enough to him so that their shoulders brushed.

Ares gazed up at the foyer's ceiling filled with robust depictions of the realm's greatest heroes and their gallant feats. He found himself being consumed by the winding tails of serpentine beasts and the glistening swords of warriors.

'Look at them, chirping away and gossiping. Coming up with outlandish conspiracy theories, I'm sure.'

Drawn out from his haze, Ares turned his attention to Hera who approached him with her arms folded and her lips tightly pursed. She nodded at the group of Olympians gathered and Ares smirked.

'I can't blame them,' he said, returning his gaze to the group, 'it sure has been quite some time since we had a meeting like this. Millenia, maybe.'

Hera shook her head, his words seeming to brush past her ears.

'It's been too long. There's not a single ounce of gumption left among the lot of them. Will we really be able to do it again this time around, after so long?'

As Hera spoke, Ares' thoughts left him, drifting off beyond the walls and pillars of the foyer and arriving at the private quarters of his domain, two nights before.

When Ares re-emerged from the confines of his bathing room, Athena was gone.

He looked around the room and it was just as it was an two hours before. With swimming vision, he glanced down at the stain in the carpet where his blood and saliva had dried.

For some reason, Ares thought Athena would stay.

Stepping over the threshold, he felt a cold brush pass over his skin where goose-bumps formed. Hazily he staggered towards his bed, gripping the bedpost to maintain his balance.

Maybe she was right. Maybe soaking in a boiling bath wasn't the best idea.

Ares sat at the bed edge and stared down at the animal-skin rug beneath his feet. The fire's light made each coarse hair of the pelt shimmer as the flames danced and he watched them, entranced.

He noticed something out of the corner of his eye. Looking over, he found a letter placed neatly on the centre of his bed. It had the official wax seal of the King's Palace, but the seal had been broken already. Ares picked up the letter, his eyes struggling to fix upon the neatly calligraphed letters.

A summons. For Ares and every Olympian to gather at the King's Palace for an urgent meeting in The Great Olympian Hall the day after next, at noon. No excuses, no concessions. Every Olympian in the realm had to be present.

In the postscript, a small note had been written by his mother instructing Ares to arrive on the day of meeting several hours early with his mind clear and his recollections in order. He would be expected to recount the findings of his journey before the counsel of Olympians.

Ares folded the letter closed and gazed at its glossy, broken seal. His thumb brushed over the intricate pattern of its centre. He looked once more around the room.

Athena had left not a single trace of herself, except for this broken wax seal. She had read the letter and then made her exit swift and quiet.

Her scent would not linger on his sheets and her dress would not be bundled up at the foot of his bed. Her hair would not curl around his fingers. For tonight, the golden light of the fire would not illuminate the scars on her skin.

For tonight, Ares would be alone.

His body as heavy as lead, and his eyes even heavier, he splayed himself across the bed and stared up at the ceiling. Lifting the letter up to his eyes, he gazed at the seal again.

'Misaligned,' he muttered but did not hear himself.

When his arm no longer had the strength, he dropped it beside him. Watching the shadows of the fire's flames dance across the ceiling, Ares' lids became heavier and heavier until he could keep them open no longer.

The next time Ares' awoke, it was dawn on the day of the meeting.

'Ares,' Hera's voice pierced his thoughts. He looked over at her and she glared at him disapprovingly.

'Don't tell me,' she nodded over to the group of babbling Olympians, 'the nerves are getting to you too?'

Ares smiled, returning his gaze to them.

'No, I was just—'

Suddenly, a swarm of bustling servants approached the foyer, the sound of their clattering shoes and eager chirping capturing the attention of the Olympians. Ares craned his neck to see who could make such a commotion if not Zeus himself. Seeing the culprit, he was not surprised.

Aphrodite had arrived with a flurry of enamoured servants tailing her. She wore a pale, coral dress whose design left the delicate lines of her shoulders exposed and whose billowing made her look like a mirage. With her golden hair neatly combed behind her ears and precious jewels adorning her slender neck, she looked like she had arrived to have her portrait painted. Despite the lightness of her footsteps, a loud clunking followed her.

Hephaestus' hulking form lurched closely behind Aphrodite, the metal brace on his left foot clanging about with his heavy and uneven gait.

He towered over her and glared at any servant that dared come too close. Ares found it comical – after all these millennia of Aphrodite engaging in explicit extramarital affairs, Hephaestus still had the gall to puff out his chest and act as if she were his.

But Aphrodite liked that. It was one of the few things about Hephaestus that Ares knew she liked. The two had made a complete mockery of their union – Hephaestus often times receiving the brunt of that mockery – and made a mockery of the sanctity of marriage itself. But then again, who in Olympus didn't?

Once the two arrived at the foyer, the flurry of servants dissipated and the group of huddled Olympians waved them over. In mere seconds, Aphrodite's gaze fell upon Ares. Her expression was expectant and her lips parted as if to call out to him from across the foyer.

Ares pushed himself from the pillar, drawn in by those black eyes. With a dull thump, Hera's hand found Ares' chest.

'Don't you dare,' she warned, her gaze boring into him, 'we're already in for it this afternoon. We don't need any more drama.'

Ares smirked with the mischief of a schoolboy.

'It's not like that anymore, you know,' he brushed away his mother's hand, 'between me and Hephaestus. We have a tacit agreement of our own.'

'Why do I find that hard to believe?' Hera raised a brow.

Contrary to what the Queen thought, it was in fact true. At least for the most part. Ares and Hephaestus' feud had ended long ago. Centuries of bad-mouthing and antagonising one another along with the occasional drunken brawl had resolved very little. Ultimately one truth remained – Hephaestus and Aphrodite's marriage was one of opportunity, of convenience. So, if Aphrodite wanted Ares, she would have him and there wasn't much Hephaestus could do to stop her.

Footsteps came from the hallway and Ares craned his neck again, the pit of his stomach tumbling.

Hestia arrived donning intricately patterned robes and an embroidered veil. Close beside her strode Athena.

The two seemed deep in conversation and Ares craned his neck further to get a better look.

Athena looked well. Her knee must've gotten a chance to heal since he last saw her, which was good. It meant she wasn't overexerting herself. As the noon sun flooded in through the foyer's arches, it spilled onto her face. Her skin glowed ever so slightly, her lips looked rosier and her wild locks bounced as she walked.

She rested well over the last day. Ares sighed.

Being away from him helped, he was sure.

'Finally,' Hera squared her shoulders, 'we're almost all here. Now, if Poseidon could—'

She watched Ares indignantly as he brushed past her and made his way towards the foyer's entrance.

Apollo watched Artemis closely. The ruddiness of her cheeks he so enjoyed had vanished and she looked as white as a sheet. She fidgeted endlessly and glanced at The Great Olympian Hall's doors every few seconds, awaiting their open.

He wished there was something he could say to soothe her, but the uncertainty in his own voice would surely belie him. If his assumptions were correct, today would be the day that the Olympians would learn about what awaits their kingdom's fate.

Apollo looked down at Artemis. He mused over the untameable curls of her boyish hair.

When the kingdom entered peacetimes, Apollo put to rest his bow, vowing never again to aim it at another's chest or skull. Though lauded for his masterful archery skills, he did not have a warrior's heart. Now, with an inexorable threat at Olympus' horizon, perhaps that vow should be broken.

Apollo slipped his hand into Artemis'. She started, looking up at him before frustration flooded her face.

'I said that I'm fine—'

'I know,' he said, tightening his grip. Artemis looked into Apollo's eyes and they bore into her with an intensity she had not seen Apollo have in years. They seemed flooded with burden.

He offered her a small gentle smile; a sudden weight assailing his chest.

With the future of his heart on the line, that vow would have to be broken.

'Lady Hestia?! What are you doing here?' Hermes' shrill voice cleaved through the silence between Artemis and Apollo.

The group of chatting Olympians turned to Hestia who approached with a much-needed tranquillity.

'My Lady,' Hephaestus said, his eyes wide, 'It has been centuries since I've seen you.'

'Well,' Hestia offered him a shrewd smile, 'I don't get out much. But neither do you, I hear.'

Hephaestus chuckled sheepishly. His reclusive nature preceded him.

'Wait,' Dionysus' face turned pale, 'does this mean we're all here because my seat is being revoked?'

'No, you idiot,' Demeter snapped, a grimness suddenly befalling her expression, 'but Hestia if you are here…'

'Then things surely must be grave.' Hestia nodded solemnly.

Millennia ago, when Olympus was still young, Hestia chose to renounce her seat as an Olympian. The decision was met with outcry. One of the six elders could not possibly renounce their seat– and for the sake of an unruly, drunken youth no less. But as Hestia witnessed Olympus' ceaseless growth and unbridled potential to become a kingdom greater than any before, she realised that perhaps it was time to put away the things of the past – herself included.

Also, she wasn't too fond of those long council meetings. Too much bickering – not enough tea.

With Hestia's seat being revoked and imparted unto Dionysus, she was never present at any Olympian meetings and rarely seen wandering about the kingdom.

However, if she was here now, things were indeed grave.

Athena watched the group of Olympians swarm around Hestia. She hadn't expected that the elder goddess would be summoned for the meeting but was pleased to run into her at the palace's entrance. As they were lead through the halls, they exchanged pleasantries and chatted briefly. In truth, Athena was a little awed by her presence. Her expression remained placid and her voice deeply melodic; the grace of her steps contrasted the urgency of Athena's gait. She apologised, with a warm laugh, for reminiscing out loud and paid a compliment to Athena's wild hair.

She was the paragon of modesty and discipline. Athena sighed.

A true virgin goddess.

In truth, Athena had hoped they could chat a little longer, if only to keep herself preoccupied. If only to avoid who was approaching her.

Athena felt the pit of her stomach plummet as Ares walked towards her. Since that night, her feelings had remained…complicated to say the least.

She had waited for an hour before she realised Ares wouldn't soon be leaving the bathing chamber. Her decision to leave was spurred by the arrival of a messenger hawk with a light of urgency in its eye. It was unlike Athena to snoop into others' mail, but that night she had done many things that were unlike herself. Reading the letter and seeing the hawk's eager flight back to the King's Palace, Athena made her own swift exit.

She had no plan of action. As she rode with the night's breeze on her face, she considered returning to her own temple to strategize or making a detour towards Zeus' palace to assist with the havoc that must've been running amok there.

As hot tears suddenly welled in her eyes again, she considered riding to Artemis' palace just to see her for a bit.

Ultimately, she chose her own temple and retired to the cool recesses of her private quarters. Under the dark veil of the night, obscured from the world, Athena shed more tears than she expected to.

By the next morning, a letter from Zeus' palace was on her desk – and in the possession of every Olympian in the kingdom.

Before she could sidle to a quiet corner of the foyer, Ares halted, standing only a few feet before her.

A gaping silence ensued between them.

'You look well,' he said stiffly after some time, 'well rested.'

'You do too.' Athena nodded.

'Back in alignment, I guess,' he shrugged with a grin that disappeared as quickly as it came. Ares watched Athena closely. He caught a kernel of distrust in her eyes before she could avert them.

'How's…?' she tapped her bottom lip. Ares' furrowed his brows, bewildered, before a light of recognition flashed across his eyes.

'Ah, my lip. It's alright. Healed up pretty much within minutes, really.'

'I'm sorry,' she said quietly, 'about when I—'

'No, don't be. I…' words seemed to escape him, 'don't be.'

Athena glanced at the throng of Olympians chirping among one another and wished she were one of them. In many ways in fact. For weeks, they had enjoyed the bliss of being ignorant of the kingdom's future. In this moment, they didn't have to navigate the matters of their own hearts.

'Why did you leave?' Athena heard. She turned to Ares and his eyes implored her deeply. She shook her head disbelievingly.

'What—well I mean, I hurt you and…,' a sudden rage bubbled within her, she glared up at him, 'and you hurt me. You started grabbing me—'

'I wasn't trying to hurt you,' he said, his voice low, 'you know that. I was trying to—'

'You told me I was patronising you. You tried to make me touch you and when I—' Athena felt herself become hot. Her voice was becoming louder than she wanted it to and suddenly she was reminded of where she was.

'It doesn't matter,' she lowered her voice, 'none of this does anyway. You and I.'

Ares' expression suddenly darkened. He shook his head.

'What does that mean?'

'All of this is merely the Psy-Syn's work.' Athena gritted her teeth, 'Our bodies…our insatiable lust for one another it's all just one big…symptom of a greater disease.' She saw a twitch in Ares' eye and rage flashed across his face.

'You are not a symptom to me, you're—'

'What could have possibly taken you so long?!' Hera's voice pierced through the foyer as she marched over to Poseidon, who arrived looking flushed and sheepish.

Poseidon's late arrival brought about a scolding from Hera and a hum of renewed disquiet from the group of Olympians. Suddenly the foyer was abuzz and Ares and Athena seemed to be swallowed by it. The two glanced at each other once more and Ares' opened his mouth to say something.

As if invoked by the sheer presence of all the Olympians, the enormous doors of The Great Hall slowly creaked open.