Tonight he dreamt of victory. He stood high from Olympus as blood and fire engulfed the palace and lightning struck the heavens. In the light of destruction he saw everyone, and everything, do obeisance to his glory. The stars bowed in both awe and fear; below him Earth's creatures lowered themselves in praises of his might. He led a warcry, raising his sword bathed in blood, and drank the magnificence of his power.
But piece by piece all he beheld had turned to ash, trifling away in an abyss as if it never had existed. And everything turned black.
Ares heard his own breathing constricted by the thinning air, but later he realized the rasping came from another. In his arms he saw himself, held himself dying from gaping wounds around his body. Blood flowed rapidly, seeping through his throat and his opened chest. A strong gush of horror took over him, looking around to call for help but no sound escaped his already hurting throat.
The King opened his eyes with an exhale, feeling the heat leave his body, the bullets of sweat rolling from scalp to neck. Darkness enveloped his chamber, the only light sourced from a single lit candle. The shadows played like claws eager to snatch his soul.
His senses came to life at the touch of soft cool fingers on the either side of his jaws. The ardor of roses filled his nose, lifting him in an incessant bliss. And there he felt her lips press on his own, inviting him to a tranquil state making his eyes droop.
Aphrodite raised her face from his, blessing him with a smile he could not deny missing. In the murk that swathed the chamber he can see the outlines of her fair complexion and the golden gloss of her hair.
"Hey, stranger," came a smooth whisper, "I missed you."
She kissed him again, passion maneuvering her hands that melted across Ares' moist chest. Passion which halted when he broke the kiss and steadied her hands before they reached his groin. The King sighed as he lifted himself and perched by the edge of the bed, wiping the sweat from his face.
The goddess of Beauty stared at now empty space on the bed which her lover once occupied. Carefully hiding the hurt of dejection, she composed herself and wrapped her lithe arms from behind him and rested her cheek on a broad shoulder. "You're troubled," she purred, "I brought you wine for a dreamless sleep."
Ares, though, kept his eye on a distant nothing with silence that only made her deaf. She understood then he was in no mood for play. Aphrodite detangled herself from him, tucked the collars of her gown on the right places, and straightened the tunic as she stood.
"Good night, love. Come find me when you feel better." She gave him a peck on the forehead before turning towards the door. Ares heard the swing of hinges which came to a stop.
"The Queen is in the throne room," Aphrodite informed, immediately catching the way he stiffened at the mention of her. Ares' brows creased. He was about to ask when –
"How did I know?" the goddess arced a pretty brow, her smile glistening with interest. "I never heard you murmur my name… like you did with hers."
The King was left with mind wandering. Did he just do that in sleep now? He turned behind, eyes floating on the empty space in his bed. The Queen had not yet again come home to him for the second night since their arrival from Crete, her absence leaving a puncture on his chest and he did not like it. It was not like he expected her to arrive, but there was an unsettling desire in the pit of his stomach for her to appear at the entrance of his seclusion. A desire manifested in his half-opened doors betting on the fragile chance she would push herself in.
The throne room. The Queen had Apollo's body be lain in the throne room, no matter how cryptic the idea was. He had never passed by the place since then, let alone take a peek, feeling a magnanimous force take ahold of him at the slightest want to visit the dead.
Yet there he was finding himself standing at the entrance a few hours later.
Ares took the sight in from the half opened doors. Apollo's body lay peacefully on a marble platform, its frame adorned with gold and gems of citrine and lemon quartz. A wreath of hyacinth and marigold, studded with anemones, hung in the middle. The sweet scent of perfume and potpourri clung to the air like a lover. And there he saw her; the Queen bent by the side of the platform, head resting on folded arms – she must have wept herself to sleep.
The King stood by a little longer, perceiving the overflow of distinct emotions at the view and making him downright broken. How strong had been their bond? He tried to recall. He used to see them spar by the courtyards, them and the twin sister, and sometimes with the weasel Dionysus. Where they laughed along with the scattered clanks of steel he always pushed himself away in annoyance. Joy was such a stranger, sometimes an enemy.
And deep in his heart it stung to question whether Athena would have mourned for him as much as she did with the Sun god, had tides turned within the cave that had been Apollo's demise.
Ares stepped back with a grunt. As soon as he withdrew towards the hallway, she was met by Artemis, pallid blue eyes gazing at him.
His heart sank and with it the muscles on his throat constricted. Artemis was as dumbfounded, seeing the bullets of sweat forming on the King's temples. And before one of them could speak, Ares immediately turned to the opposite side and left.
The Queen awoke, batting her eyelashes as consciousness welled within her.
Her eyes stung. Her vision spun like a hurricane which calmed at the sight of Artemis standing over her, and of course, her brother.
She stared at the Huntress, pale as the moon. The dark shades under her eyes spoke of sleeplessness and utter despondence.
"Artemis," the Queen acknowledged in almost a whisper, "You came."
Of course she came. Even if it took her two full days before finally deciding to see her brother. Athena bit her tongue. Artemis looked unlike anything the Queen had ever seen of her before – hair loose, face free from paint, and a body shrouded in black tunic which made her skin almost grey.
The Queen rose to her feet but Artemis never left her sight on the body that lay before them.
"He looks so peaceful," the twin sister began, eyes already moist.
Silence.
"When we were children he always told me we change places, that he'd drive the moon and I'd chariot the sun. And I always shoved him off, telling him we'd fool no one. We have different hair, voice…" she forced a short sad laughter. "Centuries later he'd still ask it of me, this annoying turd."
Artemis closed her eyes. A tear made its way. "Now no one will ask that from me." She sighed awhile forcing to speak despite the hollowing of her voice. "He has the biggest heart… a happy soul; big blue eyes and cheeky grin that gave away a trick he's about to pull on me. Who knew… who knew one day those will be taken away and I'd be left only a memory…"
She looked at the Queen, bereaved eyes over a forced smile.
"He loved you, you know."
Athena quelled a breath, gathering Artemis in her arms. "And I'm forever grateful."
The solarium was draped with orange sunlight. As wide as it was, the Queen found her husband perched in the edge, legs flailing over the open and gaze reaching far. She drew towards him, the soft tapping of heels momentarily drew his attention.
Athena halted a good short distance, making sure not to intervene with his privacy too much. "I was told you were looking for me?"
The wind only made answer, playing with the locks of their hair. It was unlike Ares to be silent.
The Queen sighed. "I'm… sorry. I meant to tell you earlier but you were deeply asleep and the people need sunlight."
It was then Ares faced her in a typical glare and brows creased.
"I appointed Helios to… bring the daylight. You may call for whom you wish to, for tomorrow."
His face lightened, looking back away and Athena understood it wasn't his concern. A few birds scattered noises as the flew below. The silence was making her dumb.
"Did you love him?"
Athena was stunned. It was not any query made by the wargod she knew at all. He asked it in such a natural manner devoid of potential jealousy or competition and yet she felt her cheeks getting warm.
"Apollo was… dear to me," The Queen cleared her throat at the answer, finding herself unsure of conviction. She hated the way he made her suddenly uncomfortable.
Ares, though, had to push further.
"Would you have rather married him?"
The Queen was temporarily breathless. In the dire moment a vent of energy sprang through her mind from nowhere.
"Of course," she laughed, "You're horrible! You don't know that?"
Ares turned his head to her, crimson eyes expressing no emotion as an awkward silence hung for about an eternity. Athena's cocky smile froze on her lips, slowly replaced by a shied frown. They stared awhile, red and grey too obscure to match and she was sure it would be his fingers around her neck but –
A burst of amused laughter escaped Ares' lips.
Athena chorused with him, soft titters of relief at the prospect of her joke. With each heave of laughter she felt heavy weights being tossed from her chest. It was a wonderful feeling, these seconds of cheer she was suddenly sharing with the least desirable company. She was exhausted and melancholic, in a verge of hysteria, and there she thought these demons made her notice how a smile could completely reconstruct Ares' face – a dimple emerging beneath thick stubble, a wide careless grin unveiling pearly whites, and contours on his jaws igniting vibrance in his eyes, red they may be, but divine.
"And here I was thinking what a lucky bastard I'd be, marrying the sweetest, most loving woman," Ares jested, "Serving me breakfast in bed, kissing me hello and goodbye at the doorsteps," He had his eyes downward and still unable to brush the somber hints in his tone within half-hearted smiles.
The Queen rolled her eyes and whined at the obvious antonyms of his statements, "You'd rather have married Demeter, then."
"Damn she's old," Ares protested, making Athena laugh harder. "But I'll consider."
The Queen was busy indulging in the solace brought about by such poorly-created humorous twists that she had not noticed Ares' eyes draped over her.
"You should laugh more often."
Athena had lost count of the times today he made her stiffen and her face turned beet color.
Ares looked on at her, basking at the way he made her uncomfortable in the manner she avoided his stare and her fingers playing at the pendant of her necklace, so to cover the skin of her shoulders. Until now his gut found it a foreign material to ingest he is married to this being – his greatest curse and enemy. And at that moment he found his hatred for her too dull in the shock of his folly.
But he loved the sound of her laughter. It was beautiful. When she laughed he could not see the imperious, arrogant Athena his blood always boiled for. He saw her pretty, fragile, and admirable. That, for sure, he would want to materialize and capture as keepsake.
His mind drifted back at the sound of her clearing her throat. He looked away again, at the vast orange skies as Helios recedes. He sighed. "I should have told her, you know."
Athena listened.
"Artemis," the King went on, back to his sullen volume, "I saw her on the way out. And I… I couldn't tell her, as much as I should have… that I was sorry. 'I'm sorry…' – two bloody words, Athena. Two blo-…"
The Queen's heart burst as Ares' voice trailed off in a concoction of self-ire and disgust. The once-proud and indignant Ares punishing himself was a sight to behold. If he was playing a theatrical role, he was doing so well. But it seemed too true to the judgement – a lush of angst and tragic emotion.
The King could not look at her to show his face marred by unexplainable guilt.
"Do you mean it, though?" She asked.
Ares straightened his lips and slowly nodded.
Athena sighed, turning her heels and finally deciding to give him back the moment for himself. "Then she deserves to know."
A/N : Hey, how is everyone holding up? Before anything else I hope you're all okay. This virus has taken toll in our country so far and we are about to be on total lock down. Please stay safe ~
Thoughts?