When newborn sunrise heralded the distant azimuth of Athens, the Queen realized how long she had stayed in the turrets of Parthenon. It would only be a while, she told herself after a long list of errands she demanded to do personally despite the urges of help. It would only be a while… turning into two overnights. Her adrenaline was boiling. And then it dawned on her.
She was desperate to wake up a clean slate.
Athena shut her eyes and inhaled the dissipating mist before daylight. She promised herself – forced herself not to allow Poseidon's voice creep through her core, tediously pushed to a vigil hearing prayers and burying her nose in nondescript scrolls. She would have even allowed a war to start in the name of amnesia.
Poseidon was a good manipulator, had always been. That was only it; Athena closed her eyes. He was but trying to exploit her nightmares in a battle of weaknesses like what he tried to do with Ares. She was good in diverting her fears into strength and it was at this very crucial moment she needed it most; her husband needed her most.
With a final inhale, she shoved the monsters back under her bed and briefly watched the sun spread its blanket of gold.
Half the door of the great Kingschamber opened and Athena paused while three pink-cheeked nymphs were skipping out. Petals fell from their flower-studded hair as they blurted in giggles. Immediately their faces deepened into crimson when they caught sight of the Queen. They shied away as small as rodents, taking the opposite hallway in shame.
"Queen…"
Asceplius looked at her before searching for the girls.
"They've gone that way," she pointed at the direction, pressing back a smile, "…a little too happy, I could say."
"Well, nymphs. Always too enthusiastic to assist when the patient is a walking magnet... There could have been a dozen of them trailing after had I had not interfered." Asceplius shrugged.
Athena clicked her tongue, "Then I'm afraid those nymphs have a bad taste."
They shared a brief soft laughter before Asceplius declared complacently, "I wouldn't usually want to have others mope around a patient but I think you'd make a good influence to him, the way you look,"
Athena tipped her head, "The way… I look?"
He nodded slowly, hazel eyes sweeping at her head to feet, "I meant, my Queen, you look… pretty radiant, considering you've just had your time in the infirmary as well. A little… un-ideally skinny..." he winced at his own words, " – but truly glowing. If… you understand what I… meant…" he slapped a palm to his face.
Athena was smiling at his struggle. Though the moment he concealed half his face, a sadness crowned her, melting her smile – he saw Apollo at that age.
"I should get going, your Deity," he nodded with a shy smile, "His meal is by the bed. I would rather leave before he discovers there's no wine…"
The Queen bit down her grin before bidding farewell. Asceplius implored his leave and she watched him diminish by the distance, bombarded with severe longing to ask whether he even thought of his estranged father at all.
When Asceplius disappeared in the curve, Athena pushed through the door and was welcomed by a haunting stillness. Repairs in the Kingschamber made it seem a separate palace within the palace. The fading afternoon light ruptured over gold and brazen pillars. Coffered ceilings suspended crystal candelabrums. The arched intersections towered over potted champaign palm trees. Fine armory arrayed before bass relief walls. And the bathing pool, its pellucid healing waters placed the hall in sensual tranquility.
She swallowed at the last memory she had here, shaming herself for his entertainment which turned out a frenetic, rather uncivilized commerce.
"If you're just about ogling from there, I don't think I'm at a good form right now,"
The Queen turned to the four-poster bed, almost twice the size of hers. One of its sides was draped with burgundy curtains.
"I am not ogling," she walked towards him tucked in the pile of cotton pillows. Athena could feel a sudden consciousness the way he stared, although she could not look away from his queerly cool, neat appearance. The thick grass about his face was trimmed thin. He wore a white linen shirt, its sleeves folded to the elbows.
Those nymphs weren't wrong. What was that nonsense about not being in a good form? He was, she was hesitant to admit, at his best. There was a strange bit inside her that was drawn to Ares, something she felt long before which disappeared and was now knocking back.
Ares propped up slowly with an elbow, chewing the wall of his mouth as she took the silver tray table and placed it carefully between them. She sat at the edge.
"Eat, man-child."
"What's with you?"
Athena raised a brow, fingering over the display of cutlery, the flask of nectar, the bowl of berries beside a full meal. "What?"
"You're odd…" he narrowed his eyes, "in a good way, though."
"Why does everyone keep saying that these days…?" Athena spread honey over a grain loaf and handed it to him casually.
"Because it radiates…" Ares took the morsel with one hand and enclosed his fingers on her wrist with the other. He drew her palm to his lips and licked the spilt amber syrup from two of her fingers – "…a delectable heat."
A snap of electricity quivered under her skin with the warmth of his tongue. Quickly she pulled away her hand. Again that something of a feeling was stronger at this point. A base form of idiocy settled in her as she looked elsewhere to catch her breath. No wonder he had procured this long list of bedwarmers, showering his wanton ministrations on them… just how often had he done that finger licking bullshit with others? With Eos? Enyo? Harmonia? Aphrod –
"Earth to Athena."
She snapped, gasping at the overflow of nectar. She had unconsciously filled the cup and now the excess is floating around the tray.
Athena stuffed napkins on the wet surface, cursing under her breath and ruining the artful layout. She looked up to find an intrigued Ares smugly chewing on the bread.
"Now I know why you chose not to be anyone's wife before," he chuckled, "Such poor table manners huh?"
"So you say," she raised a brow, jealousy still lingering, "You who eat with hunting knives and a boot over the other atop the table, throwing your goblets anywhere after chugging its contents."
"You watch me that intently during meals?"
Her jaw dropped, "Intentl – how self-gratifying. Everyone knows what an ill-bred you are at a banq – "
"Because I do, to you."
Ares liked her silence, liked the reticence in her eyes… liked how she struggled to clear her throat before a shaky curb of the topic, "I… let's talk of something else…"
"How you look at your food before taking a bite, or not look at it when reading something,"
He liked how she embraced herself. "Ares, how do you suppose we could get to Artemis about – "
"How you touch your lower lip after drinking from a cup, in the middle of a lone silent reverie…"
" – Ares…"
"You'd stare at a wall, or a hearth, and run your fingers from your jaw… sync it with the modest swallow in your neck…
"You'd narrow your eyes when the taste is sour… pucker your lips when you think, sometimes chew on a thumb when the appetite fades…"
There was quite a pause. A warm breeze slipped through the windows, stroking her hair. Athena smiled coyly.
"I imagine you watching a lot of women savor their meal," she meant to make him get back to his flirting blather; the seriousness in his voice was slowly making her believe she was an exemption to his once overpopulated harem. She observed him melt in a sullen mood –
"Only two… the other being Hera, daintiest woman I know… always striving for perfection; it was sickening." His voice turned dark, yet a little depressed – "Discarded her own sons for their innate faults, Hephaestus for his disability, my love for bloody sport… yet could not find the nerve to dispose her husband."
As a youth he was quite obsessed of his mother. Her beauty inspired sophistication, with glittered lids and dark emerald eyes and a reserved smile. He couldn't help but watch from concealed corners and bead curtains – Hera was the standard woman, every inch of her a demure and proper lady. Yet she plagued him with nags of propriety on her own accord… what he should be, should not be, and should do to fit the ideal prince. And doing so while hiding in the shadows to wipe bitter tears at another discovery of a mistress.
One night Ares was fed up. Disoriented with alcohol he smashed the flask against the wall and raised his voice at Hera, rebuking her with the unceasing issue. Zeus had another evidence of infidelity; a daughter sprang from his head, grown and clothed in war. Ares screamed out the most obnoxious things about his father and Hera struck him, there and then it pooled in him she was a hopeless case. He grabbed the sides of her face and kissed her terribly before spitting acid at her feet – a final message he had but lost all respect for her. Queen or mother, she was weak. She was beautiful but weak because love had made her so.
Ares left his mother's chamber in shambles, swearing in his life he would bash hell on Zeus' new bastard. They would share the same sire but never the same title. Hatred boiled crassly, making him fume. He had never hated anyone as this, much less cradle fury on someone he had not even encountered.
But now she was the closest soul to him in this space. The grey-eyed. The favored. Now his wife and his Queen.
How sly fate was. So cunning and jocular. But one thing was sure… Athena was leagues stronger than his mother ever was. It was astounding.
If only Athena could excavate what Ares was thinking. He had been staring at her, through her, so adhesive it was making her stomach churn. She mustered a few words to shake him off his thoughts, whatever it was – "It must be difficult for you."
Ares shrugged, "Not as difficult as getting between your thighs – Ow!"
The fork clattered on the tiles from bouncing off Ares' skull, pushing him in a light grin the way she evaded his eyes. He heard her mutter with a blush, now nibbling on a raspberry as pink as her face.
He spooned some mashed potato and hurled the goo at her direction. As it landed on her cheek, Athena flared with fists in the air – "You – ugh! – what are you, twelve!?"
"Yes," he snorted, "Twelve inches taller than you."
She wiped her face. Lips forming a circle and holding back laughter, she pounced at him with antic slaps until Ares yelped with a misplaced push on his healing ribs.
"Serves you right," Athena huffed, straightening herself off the bed, "You just earned yourself a week without me visiting."
The King shifted to his comfort. "I wouldn't be worried. Would just have to keep myself busy."
"With… what, may I ask?"
Smirk creeping across his face, Ares waved his palm, "My hand in groin and you in my imagination, dipped in honey and wine..."
"Gods Ares, can't you get any grosser?" The Queen grimaced in utter repugnance.
"Of course I could. Would you like a demonstration?"
"You are one colossal filth…" Athena rolled her eyes, beginning to move around to collect pieces of cutlery and food carelessly strewn around the sheets and floor. She placed the tray back in a side table, putting in mind she had to ask for another set and one which was not flooded by nectar.
"In fact, I was busy getting to the finish had you not interrupted me by coming in – " "Shut up, Ares. We don't need another Dionysus."
Laughing, he reached out to her, "I was jesting – "
"Keep that hand away from me!" Athena swatted at the palm, making him realize it was the same hand he was parading lasciviously just seconds ago, making him bite his lower lip.
"Why?" the King snickered, getting to the edge of the bed to worm his hands over her.
"Stop, you – " Athena pushed but was unable to hide specks of chortle, "Stop! You're disgusting!"
"Oh I am. What are you going to do about it, midget?"
"Ares, behave!"
He repeated the question coltishly, grasping her wrists and pulling her lithe form until she surrendered on the sheets with a soft thud. Athena squirmed, spilling her dark hair around like halo, trying to hold back laughter as her husband lightly straddled her in amusement. He flinched at random jabs of pain but having her to himself was worth a hundred more accidents. With his hands still about her wrists, he pulled her arms above her head, easing over to harken back the taste of her lips on his own.
Ares was never gentle, Athena knew that now, shivering at the descent of playful to passionate. And his kind of passionate was an intense, blistering heat… now in the form of hungry mouth against hers, hungry flesh above hers. She thread her fingers through his hair, clearing the sweat forming in his scalp and neck. His face was pressed beneath her jaw, nipping at the pulses with an ache that a mortal may not endure. Next thing she felt was the touch of air on her chest and belly; he was ever deft in exposing her intimate parts.
His hands ran over her clavicle, ground above her breasts with his hot breath skimming between her ribs before sitting up to pull off his now damp linen. Dim light glistened across his bruised yet sturdy form, shadows emphasizing each contour and ripple before she perceived his hands wrapping her legs around his hips and the hems of her dress fluttering up on its own.
Athena would have wanted it, wanted him. If not for that single fateful moment she let her gaze linger at the ceiling. The polished silver boards above them reflected her body clear as mirror, lying there, flushed and bare to the navel…
And suddenly she was back to that room with Poseidon; her emotions so graphic and cold. She could hear her uncle's blatant voice – We know everything…
Her lungs swelled until it hurt. A wound in her throat seemed to open, mentally screaming to look away from the pestilent reflection but she could not; she was spiraling like her racing breaths, back to that night when she saw the same reflection of hers before they wed. The incubus of Ares was behind her, scarlet in his eyes combusting with hateful lust… I want you to look… he whispered icily back then. Athena's eyes widened; she could feel her sour blood freezing… I want you to watch a heroine's defeat…
"Stop,"
Ares did not halt from the kisses he was trailing down her inner thigh. Gods if only she knew how torturous it was to strain himself from ruining her to the bone…
"Ares… stop…"
He groaned, holding her tight with the heat in him still clamoring, wanting to regard her command as plain meaningless. He felt her thighs tighten and she began wringing away pulling back the loosed garments.
"I said STOP!" Athena choked back a sob, giving a hard push before scrambling to the edge.
The King stared at her, the throbbing excitement subsiding and now being replaced by horror. The way she clutched the sides of her head, the intense quivering as she hunched to her knees, it was peculiarly familiar. Her spine was pressed hard beneath pale tensing skin.
"Athena…" he called, "Did I hurt you?"
No. Her teeth chattered. Gods no. When his fingers grazed her arm, she jolted to her feet, shock still apparent on her eyes.
"Shh, what's wrong…?" Ares reached out and she stepped back. Thoughts running wild, she was unable to perceive him calling her name. All she remembered was herself swiftly walking away from the bed and out the room with a loud thud of the door. She closed her eyes and gripped her hair, feeling the hot flush of blood to her head. There was a pressure of inaudible noise beginning to fill her ears. She was hearing laughter, the shards of merriment, of music and dancing.
When Athena opened her eyes she was in the vision of their wedding banquet. Every god was looking at her, even Apollo, even Father and Hera. Everything was bright and solidly extravagant. The party was a swing of drums and sitar and smelt strongly of wine. They were congratulating her…
Yet she sees the secret they know of her. For with every shake of the hand and tap in the shoulder was a mocking smile and a snigger among prying eyes. The music died down and all she hears were groups whispering amongst themselves. She saw Aphrodite and the graces muttering over their shoulders. There was Hestia shaking her head while Demeter and her daughter spoke something to her ear. A group of young boys broke into laughter.
We know everything… it played in the air… between the pillars and through the marble walls. Hail Athena, Queen of the gods…
Athena felt her breath choke.
…a laughingstock of virgins…
Cold. Fluid cold licking her skin.
…comedy behind faux adoration
Never before had she doubted fathoming between nightmares and reality but one thing was for sure – she couldn't breathe; she couldn't move, nor scream. Nothing. The scarier thought was that she did not seem to care whether she could regain the function of her lungs.
There was a muffled scream. And moments later was the breakage of water around her.
Suddenly she was gasping for air while two strong arms pulled her to the surface. Athena coughed deep, breathless in her wake. She looked around as her consciousness sprang back, finding herself clinging at the edge of a pool where a tall fountain gushed water brightened by gems.
"What happened?"
The small crowd once gathered before the doors of the Queen suddenly fled when Ares arrived. Even in a limping, pained and weakened form, the savage god still induced fear amongst others coherently.
Nike had just shut the door behind her when the King turned up. She could not miss the look he made upon seeing Mars, and the curious disposition why the Roman was a damp red mess with a towel over his shoulders.
"Get off," Ares commanded Nike between clenched teeth as he tried to force his way to the entrance.
Nike held the knob tight, timid but firm. "I'm sorry… the Queen does not want to see anyone tonight."
"Not even me?"
Her lips lightly trembled with the answer, "Especially you…"
Ares' brows furrowed. This was some kind of a sick joke. They were fine just moments before. They were laughing. She was laughing. And then something struck her… a scent or sight must have pushed an unwanted memory. Was she threatened by an unknown enemy? Did someone whisper to her promises of ill luck if she did something of particular?
When she ran off he tried to chase her, if not for the shot of pain that rattled half his body at the pressure of his left foot on the floor and drove him to the knee. Right now he stood the clueless fool.
"She told you that?" the King asked bitterly and was answered with a hesitant nod. He jibed. Unbelievable. "And him?" he growled at her with his head tipped at Mars, "This prick was allowed to see her? Why's he even here?"
Mars clenched at he edges of the towel scarfed around his neck. "It's not what you think," he sighed, barely controlling irritation. "I only swam her out of the fountain. Perhaps you should think of narrowing massive bodies of water in this palace. Not ones that could actually invite suicide."
"Sui – what in Tartarus are you even shitting at?"
"I…" Nike interrupted the obvious fist nearly aimed at Mars – "…saw her standing at the edge of the sundeck. I was calling… but she seemed too distraught. Then she… just… let herself go…"
The girl sniffled back her tears and pointed to Mars. "When I screamed out for help, he was – "
"I get it." Ares spat, "And how is she? Did that spawn of Apollo see her? What did she tell you back there?" He shook her shoulders in deep wroth, "Don't you dare hold back anything from me or it's my blade through your tongue, girl."
Nike swallowed with a gaze at Mars, "She uh… did not let Asceplius see her. He left some chamomile which I brought in… she fell into slumber after a few instructions for tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?" Ares followed her look at the Roman beside him, "What happens tomorrow?"
Mars opened his mouth, shut it back in uncertainty and calmly answered – "We leave for tomorrow."
Ares' eyes darkened, "You're yet to stay for another moon…"
"I know," Mars tensed, "Yet reports of Carthage's attacks leave me unsettled. We've lost a naval battle. It's about time I intervene…"
Inside the chamber where no lamp nor sconce was lit, Athena turned to her side, her arm flopping above the other like a ragdoll's. She could hear the voices outside her door but her eyes remained dry and passive as they stared widely at the deepening night sky.
Ares. She could hear him. She could practically smell him. Athena curled into a ball at the self-loathing she pummeled unto herself. How unfair she was, to leave him burdened with questions and locking him outside her perimeter. In the mortal world she often hears of this stage between the romance of two beings crumble when one's once flagrant affection suddenly dies down and disappears. This leaves the other probing to the point of madness what on earth had he done wrong. How pathetic, she used to judge. Nonsensical. She was used to always find the answer to everything…
Athena, the Pathetic.
"You're pathetic…" she whispered sourly to herself before shutting tired silver discs behind her lids.
…when she leaves for Rome!
Never had Dionysus' voice piqued Ares' mind repeatedly. Why did it have to be too soon? His lips curled in quiet snarling, forehead pressed against the door within his chamber. He parted his face from the cool surface only to push his back to it next. His fingers ran coarsely through damp scalp. The pain he was cradling from healing fractures demanded attention, and his knees weakened until his body slid down to sit on the cold hard floor.
He shouldn't sleep. He won't. That would have to be the last thing he'd do. He would stay there determined to be alert until the rouse of readying horses… but damn how his temples pounded! The emotional distress was putting his regeneration in a haywire.
The Ares before was not new to lying in confinement. The infirmary was even perhaps his most visited site next to carnage and arenas. Back then he was often told to remember latent memories to help him calm. And his mind used to always flutter down to his hateful mother's arms.
Once upon a time Hera asked him what he wanted and all he would have thought of was Zeus' tribulations. He closed his eyes in a sigh. I want to ride; I want a palace of my own. He recalled the answers rolling on his head. I want to hunt; I want to drink. I want Olympus, yes, and I want the unseen kingdoms too. But all of those melted like wax under flame. He now knew that the ultimate answer was slipping off his grasp…
– And her.
Gray eyes. Ridiculous hair. Licorice and olives scented… just her.
He squinted at the faint daylight, throat aching in dryness. All of a sudden his blood froze. The once night shaded room was now soaked in sunrays…