Chapter 32: Divine jerks

[David's Pov]

Being a demigod sucks.

I know what you are thinking right now: "But David, fighting monsters looks awesome!" to which I say, fair point.

Fighting monsters is cool, and if I'm being honest, I would be enjoying the combat more if every battle I was involved in didn't have much more stakes than…my life, I guess.

No, the real worst part of being a demigod is, that at least one of your parents is a god; which safely translated over to a 'guaranteed lunatic'.

I'm a sucker for Greek mythology, but there is no sugar coating that most of the gods are deranged, violent beings with heaps of superiority complex mixed in with them.

And while having a godly being as your father sounds awesome on paper, the idea loses its luster quickly when you actually have to face him in real-time.

Add the fact that my own father is canonically the most violent and jerkiest (is that even a word?) being since before Sparta was a country, and you'd understand why I would prefer to have no dad over…this.

Maybe it's my fault for having some hope.

Either ancient or current times, it is more than clear that your average god doesn't give much thought to their children. Ask any undetermined children at cabin 12, they'll be more than happy to tell you.

But as much as I pitied them, a part of me had a tad bit of hope that Ares—my dad might be different.

Everyone at cabin 5; Marcus, Sherman, and many more would constantly go on and brag about how we had the best god for a parent.

In the myths, Ares had the most connections with his kids, even if those were mostly after a huge bloodbath.

So excuse me for having some faith that my father won't be a total jerk.

Faith, I mind you, which was trampled by the very first conversation, because it started with:

"You've grown into a softy," with a grunt of disapproval.

It took more time than it was needed to just process what he just said. I gaped at this…' being' sitting across the table, cleaning his fingernails with a foot-long army knife as if it was nobody's business.

Of all the thousands, millions of ways to start a conversation with his son, whom he never showed up in 15 years, he started by calling out that I was a wimp.

I was so baffled to even be mad; on the other hand, I was close to bursting out laughing.

"I nearly died three times at the bare minimum during this quest alone, and that's what you have to say?"

The innate hilarity of the situation died quickly with every word I spoke, getting replaced with hot, boiling, lava-like anger that was unrivaled with any previous encounters I've ever had.

I know there is Machete, but I don't think I ever hated the guy this much. Don't get me wrong, he is a piece of dump, and as horrifying as the idea of being a murderer was, I don't necessarily regret killing him. Yeah, he is that bad.

And right now, Ares was more loathsome by a mile and a half. Up to the point where I was a sliver away from breaking—to scream, or smash my fist into the table, or maybe break that high held nose of his.

Before I can execute any of those actions, the shadows in the entire restaurant suddenly enlarged.

An image flashed in front of my vision: Rose, cowering in her chair right after I burst out for a fraction of a second. One of the ma's many wise words overlapped.

"Might is useful when you are in control. Do not let it get to you. You should be the one in control."

The bubbling rage died out. My vision cleared, when mere seconds ago I couldn't even tell that it was foggy, to begin with. It was as if someone just doused me with a bucket of icy water.

I sat back down in my seat. I didn't realize I was standing to begin with.

Ares was frowning at the now normalized interior of the shop. The idea of his discomfort was vastly satisfying, but I held back my tongue from making remarks about them.

Something was wrong. I could feel it in the air.

The closest experience I could relate to would be with the dove; after that thing bit my ear, I was not in full control over myself. I had to dive into a snow pile to get rid of the weird fever.

"You're causing this," I concluded, trying my best to keep the tone from being too accusing.

Ares raised his eyebrow. It may be just my deluded mind seeing things, but I swear there was a flicker of fire behind the sunglasses.

"Causing what?"

"This—this whole thing." I cursed my lack of linguistic skills, again. I seriously need to read up on them when I'm done and (hopefully) still alive.

"The anger. This…tendency to violence. It's because of you."

Ares snorted.

"And what gave you the idea? I'm only the god of war, conflicts, and all the other good stuff."

Prick.

He flicked the knife into the air. It spun in the air before sliding right into the scabbard at his belt.

Even with the massive grip I had, that was a neat trick.

"Your mom did a lot of work to keep your temper in check, eh?"

"No thanks to you." I retorted. Ares chuckled like that was a nicely placed joke or something.

Look, I was generally not good at keeping myself in check.

When I was young, like real young; before I was 9, I was an impulsive kid. My hands were lighter than my tongue—henceforth the former would react faster than the latter until ma taught me to be otherwise.

This was also one of many reasons why Cadmus was such an admirable hero above anyone else in my book; he had control. Heracles didn't have that; he just did whatever he wanted because he had the strength to back it up.

And now, looking at Ares, I could see where those violent parts of myself came from. And I didn't like it one bit.

The tacos arrived.

The skeleton waiter clattered his jawbone as he—she—it— set down the plate between us. Ares took a huge bite out of one. Despite my better ideas, I tried it out. It was neat. Quite spicy, but nothing I can't handle.

Ironically, the incentive food released some of the wraths I had.

"You were meeting her," I said after swallowing.

Yet again, to my annoyance, Ares didn't seem to care.

"What?" He asked in a dull voice, his eyes definitively stuck on the taco.

Maybe swatting the thing out of his hand was a good idea—

No! I had to keep a cool head.

The violence is derived from Ares's presence. If anything, doing anything on those lines would be just the thing he wanted.

But why not? He is asking for it. Literally.

I slammed my hand on the table, hard. The napkin holder tipped over the edge of the table with a clunk. The throbbing pain from the palm did very little with calming down the temper.

"Stop. Messing. With. My head." I said through gritted teeth.

For the third damned time, Ares didn't bat an eyelash.

"Maybe stop being such an open book. Try starting with that."

He lowered his sunglass to the edge of his nose.

There were no eyes. It was just two fireballs sizzling like miniature suns burning inside his eye sockets. Scenes of massive warfare and chaos flickered behind the flames. Suddenly, the ok-ish taco didn't feel so appetizing.

"I meant my ma—mom. You were with her when I used an Iris message."

Ares tossed the last bit of food in his mouth.

"Yeah. So?"

"So..."

My initial thought was that I'd ask if he cared for her. But now that I was a step away from saying it out loud, it felt very much contrived, to say the least.

And anyway, there was a more pressing question that need answering desperately.

"I—I have heard, something from my sister."

"You mean you're stepsister." Ares wrongfully pointed out. I had to hold back on another punch.

"My sister said that ma was a...clone of the goddess Hecate. Something she had created to get children efficiently."

"And?"

My gods, how does anyone put up with this guy?!

"And I'm worried that it might be true, and I'd like some damned answers!"

Too late, I recognized that I lost my temper again.

I was back up on my feet. My breathing was heavy, and both of my hands stung painfully. I glanced down to find that I had managed to crack the wooden table, getting several splinters stuck in my hands.

Ares smirked in the smuggest way you could ever imagine before waving his hand. The entire restaurant dissolved into red mist, leaving us stranded in the middle of a cold night desert.

The God of war was hulking over, casting a large shadow over my head with a crooked smile. His fireball eyes emitted a ring of light around his sunglasses.

"It's not easy, is it? Keeping your attitude, being calm..."

I chose to stay silent because I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of being right. But even I knew that silence was as same as admitting it.

"Control your anger, they said; it'll help you become a better person, they said. I've let you live 15 years under that principle, and tell me kid; did it work in your favor?"

"...I nearly ended up in jail for killing Machete."

"And if you hadn't, where do you think you'd be right now? Or your 'sister' for that matter?"

The air quotes he made me spring back up to my feet. I was still at least a head and a half smaller than him, but I stared straight into the sunglasses and his burning eyes.

"What are you trying to say? Be a deranged lunatic throwing around my powers? I think the gods like you have that covered."

The edge of Ares's smile twitched. At first, I thought it was a grimace. Then I realized that he was impressed.

"True. That's why I love being a god. But in this context, that's a tad bit off from my message."

"Your message?"

"Pop quiz: What do you think I think the best part of war is?"

"Well, violence and gore, obviously."

Ares chuckled again.

"Yeah, everyone says that when I ask. But no, the greatest part of the war is: It brings out who you are at the core."

"What?"

"You mortals made up morals and laws and what not to shackle, to cover up yourselves into something more.

But at war, none of that matters. You become 'you'; nothing more, nothing less. There is a reason why real heroes appear in crisis.

And you, son. You will figure out who you are on this journey. You'll have to."

I was lost for words. Not because I was in awe—ok, maybe slightly. But only slightly.

I was more surprised that of all beings, Ares was giving a motivational speech, and also by the fact that what he was saying had some similarity to what Cadmus said when they had polar opposite personalities.

"The true use of the sigil would be a mirror. The most fundamental core...the sigil would remind you of that."

Who, am I...

The sigil in my left palm tickled. It was faintly glowing against the moonlight.

"I-I don't know." I stammered. "I never gave much thought to the matter."

"No one really does. Not now, anyway. You mortals made life so much complicated with your own hands."

Ares stretched both his arms. A crimson red blade appeared in his hand, and he snapped his finger with his free hand.

A ring of red aura spread in the circle for at least a 50-mile radius, enclosing us in an arena of some sort.

"You said you wanted to know who your mother was, correct? Well, you'd have to earn it yourself."

Ares raised his blade. From the sand, skeletal hands burst out. They clawed themselves out of the ground; dozens of skeletons with full battle armor.

"The Spartois!" I drew my weapon in alarm as they slowly advanced. But they didn't attack. On the contrary, when they came close enough, all of them knelt on one knee in unison.

I looked up at Ares in confusion.

"You do remember that the Spartois we're initially made to serve Cadmus, right?" He asked back with a grin hanging from his ears.

The sigil ticked significantly.

"And now I'm his successor...that's why they don't attack me?"

"Well, there's also that it's my magic that created them in the first place, but that's beside the point. Tell your hunter companion that these won't be a threat anymore."

Ares tapped one Spartoi on the helmet, and it bowed its head slightly more.

"I've brought some of them here to get some training done."

"Training?"

The Spartois stepped back, making a ring around me with their spears in hand.

Ares was at the very back with his arm crossed over his sword, like a movie conductor ready to shoot his life's work in action.

"As you are my child, you are naturally skilled in combat. But natural talent can get you only so far; they need to be processed and honed.

And in this arena, you'll get a year's worth of practice in tens of minutes. So make them worth it, and try to impress your dad while you're at it!"

The Spartois shook their weapons in the air and advanced. To think that combat training would be the first father-son activity I took part in.

Still, I guess Ares would suffice...for now.

[3rd Person's Pov]

Zoë didn't like what she saw in Aphrodite.

She was, obviously, breathtakingly beautiful. Although she had served Artemis for thousands of years, Zoë couldn't stop a small gasp of admiration at the sheer beauty she was facing.

But 'who' she saw was more than enough to wake her up almost immediately. For as long as she lived, Zoë could confidently claim that she had never 'loved' anyone since that one time that became the biggest thorn in her mind.

Combine that with the fact that the goddess of love took in the features of any females that you've taken an interest in, and logically Zoë's interpretation of her should resemble…no one, but only show what she found ideal.

Instead of that, however, when Zoë looked at the Lady of the Doves, she saw too many faces of friends, families, and allies—from Calypso to Erytheia, to Polyphonte, to Artemis, and so on.

"Enough," Zoë growled. The goddess smiled and settled down on a face that Zoë found vaguely familiar. But she couldn't lay a finger on who exactly it was.

Her skin was a well-tanned brown, aided by a well-built body that made Zoë wonder if she was impersonating a female bodybuilder. The glossy dark hair was neatly trimmed into a braid, similar to the huntress.

"Ah, the magic of love," Aphrodite chimed, jolting Zoë awake from her semi-trance caused by getting indulged in her looks, "It's why I love being a goddess of one, even after all these years."

Zoë clenched her teeth. It both showed her emotion and helped her not get distracted by how attractive the goddess was.

"I haven't loved any of thine examples like thou intend to bethink, my Lady. They were my friends, families—"

"Oh, but the seeds were there, Zoë," Aphrodite said with a broad smile. Zoë couldn't help fathom how white they were, before snapping herself back to the conversation at hand.

"I don't pick up on any impossible outcomes. Love starts with a possibility. It might grow into something great, or it might end up destroying entire factions. Nobody knows! And that's what makes it so exciting, every time."

"Half of them were my family! We share the same dad!" Zoë protested, more bugged than anything at the idea that there was a possibility that she'd fall in love with Calypso or godforsaken, Erytheia—just thinking about the latter made her stomach churn.

But Aphrodite waved off her complaint like a fly.

"Oh, you know that's a minor setback to us immortals. And your father is a wonderful rebound to kick start something intense."

Zoë forced down a gag, putting no effort to hide her disgust in the matter. How the goddess framed the word intense was something to have nightmares about in her book. Aphrodite merely shrugged her shoulders, albeit slightly irritated at the strong resistance that the hunter showed with her element.

"Have it your way. Those trains are long gone by, anyway."

"Thank Artemis."

Aphrodite rolled her eyes. "Whatever. I don't know why I even bother showing up; you do know why I did, yes?"

The lieutenant stiffened in her seat. It was finally here; the reckoning of the truth. The reason why, as much as she wanted to drive a knife through this goddess's head for ruining her friend's life, feared meeting her at this exact moment.

She would be the ultimate confirmation. If the goddess of love said it out loud, claim what she had in mind, then there was no way to back out of it. She would have to face the one part that she'd disregarded since Heracles left her at the side of that pond.

Setting down all of her honor and dignity, Zoë tried to cop-out.

"…I don't want to admit it."

Aphrodite's lip curled up into a cruel smile. At least it felt cruel to Zoë.

"And by that, you just admitted to yourself."

The huntress winced. She was right, annoyingly.

Somehow, Aphrodite had managed to push her into confirmation by letting her lunge to the opposite side. A simple, yet well figured out trap that Zoë had fallen right into. Or it may have been a futile resistance; when the literal goddess of love was her opponent, how could anyone lie to anyone about who they love or not?

Zoë opted to silence for a very long time. Time, where she was surprised to find that Aphrodite didn't get distracted by the trillion makeup items she had, but instead focus wholly on her.

Finally, a question arose from the hunter's lips. The one that had been bouncing at the back ever since…who knows? Zoë didn't have any idea when was the exact moment she started falling over to him. But she had to know this:

"Why? Why now, of all times, after thousands of years of—why now?"

Zoë suddenly felt a stinging pain across both her eyes as her voice broke at the last word, which surprised her more than anyone else.

Thousands of years spent as a lieutenant of the hunters taught her how to keep her emotions from overflowing. She would rarely shed a tear, the only exception she ever allowed herself was when any fellow hunter fell in one way or another—and she would make she that she was alone before letting them appear.

Well, both of those rules were shattered thanks to her companion, who happened to be the hot topic at the moment. What a coincidence.

Aphrodite watched the huntress press her eyelids in a vain attempt to hide her tears. If Zoë hadn't bothered to do so and spare a glance at the goddess, she might've surprised herself by realizing that Aphrodite didn't have any triumphant or smug expression that one of the oldest hunters couldn't resist her element.

Instead, her expression could only be explained by one word: empathetic.

The love goddess carefully took both wrists of Zoë, and gently brought them down to look her straight in the eye.

"For all intense and purposes, Zoë. I didn't cause anything. As I said, Love begins at the seed. It is you who decides to water which one, to take care, make it grow."

Zoë blinked, baffled. "What? But, you are the one who makes—"

"Make? Did you think I make every single love in the world happen? That I'd take all the romance in the world into my own hands?"

Zoë didn't say anything. Truthfully, that was exactly what she'd thought about how 'love' worked for several millennia, which now that she thought about it, was quite absurd. It was also a very convenient mindset that allowed her to blame Aphrodite for her past bitter relationship.

"I am the goddess of Love," Aphrodite continued, "and the first act I made as soon as I took the role for one, was to make it natural. To make it something that'll make way on its own."

"So you'd take no responsibility in them." Zoë guessed.

Aphrodite shrugged. "Partly, yes. But I never liked the idea of having control over it. Love…lose its luster when they are controlled, in my opinion."

"But you tried with David, with your dove." Zoë pointed out.

Aphrodite shrugged again, this time looking away with a slight tinge of shame. "I got…impatient when I learned…." For a moment, the goddess trailed off in her sentence. Zoë shivered slightly. The temperature of the car seemed to drop significantly, the shadows growing more intent.

Sorcery, she thought to herself. But the moment passed before she could dissect what was causing it, and Aphrodite continued.

"The boy is, quite different from your ordinary demigod. Much more than you think, Zoë."

"I don't follow."

"I hope that you never will. It is hard to keep track when he doesn't have…anything to trace by. And I've gotten quite emotional after I had to break this one's heart right beforehand. I wanted to give you two a small boost."

Aphrodite waved at her face, indicating the face she was wearing at the moment did indeed was someone else. And suddenly, Zoë made the connection.

"Hylla. That's Hylla—you broke her heart?!" Zoë's voice grew higher with every word, infuriated that this goddess, despite what she had been saying, knowingly tripped over one of her favorite Amazonians.

But Aphrodite shook her head, although with a grin that made it obvious that she was finding this particular conversation very interesting.

"No, not Hylla, my dear. It happened in Charleston, South Carolina. Not where she was at the moment."

Zoë frowned. "But then who—"

A loud thunderclap blocked out the rest of her sentence. It was an intense thunder, even by Zoë's standards. Aphrodite looked up at the sky through the front window with a small concern before saying: "Let's get off on that topic for now, shall we?"

It didn't sit well with the huntress that the mysterious girl was such a taboo. Aphrodite even changed her appearance to a basic blonde supermodel, all while glancing up at the sky every few moments afterward before turning back to Zoë.

"Where were we? Oh yes," She cleared her throat.

"I won't interfere directly with either of you anymore, Zoë. But a piece of advice for you, if you are willing to take it:

With a good enough lie, you'll convince the entire world. But no matter how hard you try, you will never fool yourself."

Aphrodite flashed an eye-blinding smile. Zoë was surprised at the fact that it was indeed a piece of solid advice, and hated what it eluded to, but nodded nonetheless. She was about to make her way out of the limousine when the goddess suddenly clapped her hands together.

"Oh, and before you go; Harmonia sent a message on my way here. She said that you had a talk with her about Artemis, yes?"

Zoë tensed with one hand on the door handle.

"We did." She said, conveying the best she could that that wasn't a topic she wanted to get in with her right now. However, Aphrodite ignored her tone outright.

"My daughter was worried that her words may have fallen short. And as much as I…am not fond of Artemis's…viewpoints in life—" It was too apparent that Aphrodite was thinking different words from what she was saying, but the continuing words pulled Zoë away from that idea.

"—I will say this in her defense; she is very young, counting by our standards."

She was young. Zoë felt her jawline clench without herself meaning to. It was the same excuse Artemis herself had brought up before, to which Zoë didn't really 'fall behind', so to say.

"Lady Artemis has hunted down beasts in various countries for thousands of years. It wouldn't be sufficient to call her 'young' by any means."

"Yes, but what do thousands of years mean to us? Zoë, might I remind you how old you are? Apart from me, I don't think you are particularly younger than any Olympians."

That was an odd point to bring up, but Aphrodite was right. Zoë distinctly remembered the beginning stages of her life. Where she'd tend the garden with her sisters, singing and dancing around, taking care of Ladon.

The memories were there, but it was hard to tell how many years it was. For one, it was for a very long time, very much ago. And for the other…the entire experience didn't have much of a strong impression, as dear as they were.

"…what is thy point, Lady Aphrodite?"

"My point is, we are immortal. The number of times passed has little to no meaning to us. What matters is how much we take in. It is like how thousands of years of gardening or hunting holds less weight to you than the last two days do."

Zoë opened her mouth to retaliate. But when she opened her mouth, no words came out. Aphrodite had a point. As much as she cherished the thousands of years spent with either of them, the previous few days were ever more groundbreaking than any of the two.

The status quo she had spent thousands of years spent with was all bulldozed down, leaving her with nothing but herself to reflect on.

Realizing that, Zoë went silent. It was quite an achievement for one boy to make, she'd have to give him that much at least.

"From birth, Artemis has only been in one environment; her hunt, where she is supreme. And she is much, much younger than you, or anyone else gives her credit for."

"I…see."

Aphrodite gave the hunter a nod of approval, and with a small wink, waved her hand goodbye.

Zoë was less than surprised when she exited the door and closed it behind her, she was in a completely different location. She was stranded in the middle of a large junkyard, with the moon shining high up in the cloudy night sky. No limousine was in sight.

But, it didn't bother her. Not at the moment. She supposed that the love goddess would also want a word with David as well.

And until they are done, she'd have time to think—truly think over everything.

I'm not going to say anything about how late I was, not because I'm not sorry or not shameful, but rather I'd not bore you guys by repeating what I said for the last 4 or 5 chapters.

And I do have some things to say in this chapter because this one might be the single most 'remodeled' chapter I've written. I've had to make up everything before the 'climax' of the Niobe arc, or so to say, but this one was a chapter that I had in mind from the very beginning, but the outcome you see right now is vastly different from what I had in mind.

Firstly, Ares/David's father-son relationship.

Think of Ares and his dynamic with his son as you will.

Maybe he went too overboard with being a class-A jerk, or maybe he poked David with the purpose to give him some lesson after 15 years of absence.

But I will say the following for these two, mostly because it would probably never be explained in the story:

1. Ares has a very good reason for shunting away David as long as he did. And Ares doesn't like it.

2. Ares is not fond of David's mother, nor with Rose. He was meeting up with David's mom to inform her that things would go his way from then on.

3. Ares started taking action when David reached 15 because that's when a boy would become an adult at Sparta. He had an oath shared with his mother about it.

4. The Harley from the previous chapter was Ares's gift.

And secondly, Aphrodite/Zoë's talk.

I never intended Aphrodite to be the voice of reason.

The initial idea was that Aphrodite would be more joyed that a hunter was failing to keep on with Artemis's terms, and Zoë would more or less chew on her own terms after the talk was over.

But that made it so difficult to write that after 3 days of vigorous planning and outlining, I finally gave up and gave the love goddess the W.

To be honest, I'm more than satisfied with how it turned out. The imagery of Aphrodite was more or less a huge shipper over anything else, but as a love goddess, I don't think it'll hurt for her to have more compassion than acting like a teenage girl with a Wattpad account.

I'll let you guys decide on how the talk went. Again, think of them as what you will. Tell me via a review or PM. I welcome any sort of feedback.

Now, for the easter eggs/teases(?) here and there.

Take a guess who Aphrodite was eluding to! I think I gave enough hints without being too obvious on the answer, and if you figure it out without consulting the wiki, give yourself a pat on the back. And be ready for a surprise when they reach San Francisco.

And as you know how these OC stories go, David is built different; he is actually half god half titan and a full primordial dark immortal being that could destroy the entire Olympian counsel with a single sneeze and-

Ha...that was a terrible joke. I'm not going to pick fun on those types of stories here; I know they have their charms and merits. I've had my fair share of fun reading/writing them.

I refrained from writing David to be 'given' anything special for a long time. I like protagonists that were given nothing; no special bloodline, no special power from their house, or no luck for that matter. I like when they have nothing stacked for them because that makes their victory much more meaningful. In my head, anyway.

But, I have made some compromises as the story grew. The original background of my OC was not OP in any way, but it was way too complicated that even screwed up relationships that would happen eventually.

In short, yes, currently, he is not an ordinary demigod; not by a long shot. And his current back story is not the full picture.

But if I can promise you one thing: His specialty has, and will bring more trouble than I would ever do good.

That's all I have to say for now.

I hope you had fun time reading, and I hope to see you next time...whenever that may be. Hopefully faster than another two weeks.

Ta ta~