Greece looked different from Mount Olympus. It was so small–so insignificant in the grand scheme of immortal existence. Temples were often visited and gods were often beseeched. It was nothing new. Athena heard the call in her temple. She wondered why Daedalus was wasting her time and his. She held an ax, executing a technically perfect slice in the air. Where she was, she could hear all the mortals who beseeched her. The goddess took note of those she would visit. Some of them sounded promising. If that one boy would just stop interrupting her thoughts with his voice, she could focus better.

"Why do you ignore him so much?" a voice asked.

Athena turned to it quickly, pointing the weapon that direction. When she saw who the voice belonged to, she sighed and returned to training.

"Why do you always sneak into places you're not welcome?" she asked.

"It's not my fault that none of you notice me until I do something."

"That's a good way to take an ax to the head."

"Well, it's not like that'll kill me."

Athena pointed the weapon at him again, moving closer. "Maybe not, but it'll leave a mark."

Annoyed, Ares moved the weapon aside. "I'm starting to remember why I don't come by here that often, Astrid."

The goddess's frown deepened. She had not heard her other name in ages, not since becoming so renowned around the other immortals. It did not shock her that the god to call her by that title was one who enjoyed conflict so much.

"What do you want?" she asked.

"I already told you. Remember my question?"

Astrid turned away from him. "I don't answer mortals like him."

Ares looked downwards at the mortal realm. "It feels weird there. It's like something's about to happen–something big."

"If you feel that way, then just don't cause a war."

"I didn't say that I was about to cause a war."

"If there's a problem, you're bound to be connected."

"You really don't sense anything wrong?"

"I do. I sense someone who broke into my realm and now is bombarding me with ridiculous questions. Of course, something is going to happen. There are attacks all the time."

"Exactly! And that doesn't stand out?"

Astrid sighed heavily. "You're chatty today."

"What's different from today than any other day?"

Astrid paused, then nodded. "Fine, you're chatty in general."

"I'm still curious, though."

"I don't really care. I'm not the only immortal who ignores him. If you're so concerned, go to Zeus. See what he says."

Ares made a face at her. "I think he's still mad at me for…something. I forget what the last reason was."

"Just assume he's always mad at you. That'll leave less guesswork."

"Thanks," he said sarcastically. "You're almost as helpful to me as you are to the mortal."

"Why would I help you? You'll probably try to kill the next champion I pick."

"Pick a good fighter and I'm sure everything will be fine."

Astrid glared at the other immortal. "Leave, Ares."

It sounded like an insult coming out of her mouth. It sounded that way coming out of the mouth of any immortal. Ares lifted his hands and stepped back.

"Fine. See you around, Athena."

He vanished from Athena's realm, venturing into the mortal world. The immortal turned into a vulture and flew over Athens. There was that kid again. He was going to Hephaestus's temple and prayed, but nothing happened this time either. It seemed like whatever he was making was interesting despite the god of the forge not wanting to see him. Frowning, Ares left in hopes that this one would provide more answers. The immortal stopped traveling when he arrived at a large volcano and entered.

"Hey, Gobber," Ares said, crossing his arms.

He leaned against the wall of the volcano. Gobber did not respond. The larger immortal was hammering away at a piece of steel. Ares removed his helmet and wiped his brow.

"Don't you have some ice or something in here?"

"I don't remember inviting you," Gobber commented.

"Okay, touchy. I won't complain about your inferno. I wanted to talk about mortals anyway. Why'd you ignore that one guy?"

"Who?"

Ares frowned at him. "I know you sensed him beseeching you."

Gobber side-eyed him, continuing his work. "I did, but the lad's just going to get himself killed if he tries to fight. Mortals like him are better off just staying hidden."

"Just wait until they die, right?"

"It's hardly a long wait for them."

"How hopeful of you."

Gobber looked up fully from the metal. "I've seen too many mortals die to expect something else. Now, if that was all…"

"While I'm here, think you could fix a few swords for me?"

"You're just trying to buy time to ask me more questions."

The redhead's brows furrowed. "I really do have some weapons that need repairs."

"They wouldn't if you didn't have so many wars."

"Kind of comes with the territory," Ares said, gesturing to himself.

Gobber just turned back to his work. "The others have work they asked me to do too."

"It doesn't have to be done right now."

There was a pause and anger creeped into Ares. He put his helmet back on.

"Fine, I'll take care of it myself. Enjoy ignoring your desperate worshippers."

With that, the immortal vanished from the home. He did not care if Gobber would not help him or if Astrid wanted him to leave her alone. They were hardly the only immortals who felt this way. It was fine. The god of war was used to not being anyone's favorite. His few temples remained mostly empty. It got boring. It made the immortal search for other ways to keep himself entertained. He transformed into a vulture again and began flying. There was a mortal he found interesting. Something was wrong with this person. Ares just never timed it right to see what was happening. By the time he would arrive, all he could do was sense that something was off. Not having much else to do, the immortal was ready to stay until he saw what he needed. Then something happened.

Fear. Ares sensed it coming in strong waves. It was from another mortal. This fear was the kind that was only experienced when a mortal's life was in grave danger. It reminded the god of what some new soldiers felt while in war. Oddly enough, he sensed no war where this fear was. So, the immortal began traveling towards the emotion. It was getting stronger. He stopped when he heard chewing and the crunching of bones. His eyes widened when he saw a cyclops devouring a mortal. Ares turned into a giant wolf, growling at the monster. Abnar's face went pale and he cried out when strong claws slashed through his chest and back. He died almost immediately. Ares moved his attention from the cyclops to the boy. In surprise, he realized who this was.

"Hey, it's Daedalus," he thought.

Immediately, Ares noticed how much blood was being lost because of the injury. If Daedalus was going to survive, something needed to happen.

"Apollo," the immortal called, "this mortal could use some help."

To no surprise of his own, the god did not appear. Ares was alone in this as usual. He pressed his wolf's paw against the wound. Gradually, this caused the gash to start to seal. It was not smooth or pretty like Apollo's work, but it was not allowing more blood to escape and it would not get infected. Ares watched it go, hoping that he was not too late. He was no healer. Still, he had seen his soldiers get injured in wars. The immortal could do nothing like the healing god, but he could do this much to help his soldiers. If they were going to die, they had to be properly slain. Ares sat down by the mortal, waiting for him to wake up. He was thrilled when this happened. Some of that excitement faded when he realized that Daedalus had no idea who he was. Ares could see the fear on his face when he learned the truth.

"Can't help but notice that you don't seem too excited to see me."

Hiccup tried to smile, although it looked more nervous than anything else. "I'm very excited. I just…didn't expect you. That's all."

"Because you didn't beseech me?"

The boy hesitantly nodded. When the god began frowning, Hiccup felt a pit form in his stomach. Was he going to be killed for not asking for the immortal's help sooner?

"You should have," Ares chided. "I could've been here faster. Immortals sense it when you beseech us. It's not like we're watching everybody all day long. We've got stuff to do."

"Oh, sorry."

Hiccup looked back down at his missing leg. If he had known, he would have asked for the immortal's help. Squinting, the boy realized that there was not an open wound.

"You can heal?" he asked.

"Not as well as Apollo, but I can do this. Does it hurt? My soldiers say it doesn't afterwards, but they're pretty used to getting hit, so I don't know if that counts."

The mortal shook his head. "Actually, no. It feels weird…really weird, but it doesn't hurt." A shudder went through him. "It's nothing like it was when it happened. Thanks for coming to help me."

Ares's eyes widened slightly. Gratitude. That was as nice as it was rare.

"You're welcome," he said.

Hiccup got quiet for a moment, making Ares lift an eyebrow.

"What?"

"I don't want to be rude, but I was wondering…"

"Why I helped?"

"Well, yeah. No one else did."

"I've been watching you in between my other work. You're not boring. It gives me something to do, so I'm not as bored."

To be considered interesting by an immortal made Hiccup smile. Dagur pointed to the wings.

"I've been around a while and I've never seen a person fly before. I knew you'd make something neat eventually. You've got that same look in your eyes that a lot of my best soldiers have. I think it's mortal determination."

"Wow, that means a lot to be compared to one of your soldiers. Thank you, Ares."

The immortal frowned slightly. "Call me Dagur."

"I didn't know immortals had two sets of names."

"We start off with one, then when we're all well-known, we get the new ones. Most of the others think it's more respectful to be called by those."

"You don't?"

The immortal paused for a moment. "Seems cold sometimes. I miss being called Dagur." He suddenly let out another wild laugh. "Friends on Mount Olympus still call each other by their informal names. Certain mortals they're close with get that privilege too. That's why I don't hear mine."

To Hiccup's shock, he thought he sensed a type of loneliness. He found himself relating to this immortal. He could not think of a single temple for Ares that he had seen. No one spoke of him in Berk. It was like it was some bad omen to mention the immortal's name. As if even doing so would bring about war. That was what some Berkians said. He was not an immortal who was to be respected or trusted. He was just violence.

"You can admit it," Dagur said, laying down on the grass, drawing a blade.

"Admit what?"

"That you were scared when you found out who I was."

"I…"

Hiccup knew better than to lie to a god. He just wished there was a better alternative.

"We're not too different," Dagur stated casually.

"What do you mean?"

"Both immortals and mortals hate us. Funny, huh?"

The immortal laughed again, but it did not sound as amused as the first time. Now, he just sounded unhappy.

"Do you try to get them to like you more?" Hiccup asked, hoping he might be able to use a suggestion.

"Not really. I think they don't like me because I'm war…but so is Athena. We're just different parts of it. You need both for it to be a good fight."

"Have you thought about causing less wars? Maybe if you didn't have any, that would change things."

Suddenly, Dagur jumped up and Hiccup scooted back. The immortal's eyes were glowing again.

"That's what everyone thinks! I won't stop doing what I do just to get them to accept me!" Instantly, his scowl fell and he looked calm again. "It's not that simple anyway. Do you think all fighting is bad?" He heard a long pause. "Be honest."

"Kind of. It seems to all end in someone getting hurt."

"Think about what happens if there's never any fighting," Dagur suggested. "You have all these cowardly leaders who abuse their power and subjects, but no one does anything because revolutions don't exist." He pointed over to the corpse. "You see a cyclops who wants to eat you, but no one steps in because they won't even fight for those who need help. Removing the fighting spirit from mortals doesn't remove the reason for fights. It just removes your ability to defend yourself. I'll admit, some fights are a little…unnecessary. The few mortals who do come to me just ask for wars, so they can get more power." He snarled fiercely. "I hate that kind of beseeching. They're cowards. They don't need me. They just want to expand their kingdoms, but fighting can be brave too. I'm the god of courage too. Most mortals forget that or never learn it in the first place."

Hiccup found himself in the latter group. He had only heard of Ares a handful of times. Whenever he did, it was about the immortal being a brute. The idea of him helping mortals protect each other was an odd concept to grasp.

"How do you get people to fight?" he asked.

This made Dagur grin brightly. "Like this."

Immediately, the immortal vanished before Hiccup's eyes. Dagur was still there, but he was practically part of the wind now.

"You heard the way those people in the temples talk about you," he whispered. "They don't think you deserve to be there–that you're pathetic for seeking divine attention, but you've got as much right as anyone else. How would they feel if they were treated that way? Maybe they should see what it's like. They'd learn to not mock others so much."

Hiccup heard his words in the wind, but he was barely conscious of it. His hands started clenching into fists. Just as he realized how angry he was getting, he shook his head.

"Okay," he said. "You do whatever you just did to cause wars."

Dagur reappeared, laughing. "Yeah, I call them my war whispers. Cool, right?"

Hiccup offered an awkward smile in response.

"All I need to do is say a few things to some mortals who already have anger in them," the immortal added. "You'd be surprised how little it takes for mortals to go to war."

Hiccup became quiet briefly, watching as the god started to float. The boy thought over what he learned and took in the sight. It was all a lot for him to process.

"Why do you live with those two mortals?" Dagur asked suddenly. "I didn't see you before then, but I've heard you refer to the older one as uncle."

This made the Berkian appear downcast. "When I was five, my parents were eaten by giants. My uncle took me in after that and I've been there ever since."

A blade shone in the moonlight. Dagur's focus was still on it as he slashed the air.

"Ever think of getting rid of him?"

Hiccup's eyes widened and he shook his head. "No! I wouldn't do something like that. He's not the nicest, but he's still my uncle and Snotlout's dad. I couldn't kill him. I probably couldn't kill anyone."

"Hope that's not the case."

"Why not?"

"Because there'll be some killing involved. I'm sure of that."

Hiccup's head began to hurt and he wondered if it was not just because of his fall. "Huh? Wh-who am I supposed to kill?"

Dagur shrugged. "I don't know yet. Still figuring that part out."

He made the knife vanish, then appeared right in front of Hiccup. The mortal jumped back a little.

"Notice how many attacks there have been around here?"

"I guess there are a lot. Aren't there always?"

"It started about eight years ago. It's gradually getting worse. Greece is covered with monsters."

"What does that have to do with me?"

Dagur grinned widely and had a deranged twinkle in his eyes. "I need a champion. Nobody else thinks anything's wrong. I'm going to prove that I'm right. I love being right."

"Why would you choose me as your champion? Not that I'm ungrateful," the boy added quickly. "I just don't know how much I can do."

"Don't underestimate yourself. If you're this puny and still made something that flies, then you've got potential. That's what I look for. I don't know what we'll be doing yet. I'll let you know when I've got a plan. Should be soon. If something happens before I'm back, beseech me. I mean it," he said warningly. "I don't want to come back here and find you without your other leg."

"Believe me, I don't want that either."

Dagur looked away from him, squinting in the distance. "Your cousin's on his way. He'll get you back home, so I don't have to. I'll see you soon, Daedalus."

The immortal started to leave and Hiccup held up a hand.

"Wait!"

Dagur stopped, brow raising. "What's wrong?"

"Hiccup."

"What?"

"It's my other name. People who know me better use that. You can too if you'd like."

The immortal gave a crooked grin. "See ya, Hiccup."

Dagur vanished just before Snotlout could arrive. The boy had a worried look on his face. Hiccup had been gone for far too long. Spitelout said to just wait until he got back, but Snotlout waited for the man to fall asleep before leaving. When he saw his cousin, he felt ill.

"Hiccup!" he called, running over. "What happened?" He looked at the injury in shock. "How'd this heal?"

"Ares," Hiccup answered.

"Ares did this?!"

"No, a cyclops ate part of my leg, then–"

"You were getting eaten?!"

"Snotlout," Hiccup said, frowning. "This is going to make it a lot harder to tell you."

Snotlout took a deep breath and forced himself to not interrupt again. Seeing that he was done, Hiccup relayed the events of the evening. When he was done, Snotlout had a doubtful look on his face.

"Ares wouldn't help with something like that. He's a brutal god. He'd probably just strike you down for losing."

Hiccup shook his head. "I don't think he's brutal." He glanced over at the corpse. "Well, not indiscriminately anyway. He saved my life. He said that he wanted me to be a champion for him."

Snotlout still felt skeptical and decided that the easiest way to get Hiccup back home was to sling him over a shoulder. The smaller boy pursed his lips, displeased with this decision.

"Really? I still have my other foot."

"Well, I didn't hear you offering up any suggestions before now. This'll be faster too."

Begrudgingly, Hiccup did not complain anymore as he was brought back to their home. Quietly to prevent Spitelout from waking up, Snotlout looked over the wound and got some supplies. He was well-versed in injuries. Surprised, he saw that it was at least provided enough aid to keep from becoming an issue later.

"Whoever did this did a good job since it wasn't Apollo."

"It was Ares," Hiccup insisted.

"Sure," Snotlout said, rolling his eyes. "Maybe a nymph came by and felt bad for you."

"And that same nymph killed the cyclops?"

"She was a very angry nymph. You probably hit your head."

"Not hard enough to think that a nymph is Ares."

"Sounds like something a person with a head injury would say."

Hiccup huffed, then pointed to his room. "Can you at least bring me some metal? Whatever I'll be doing, I'm going to need to be able to get around on my own. I can't hop everywhere or get carried the whole time."

Snotlout nodded and grabbed some metal for him. "What are you making?"

"A leg."

"You've never done something like that. Think you can do it?"

Hiccup thought of that potential Ares saw in him. It made him smile.

"Yeah, I can do it. Just give me a few hours and it'll be done."

His smile faltered when he heard a scream from outside. Snotlout quickly opened their door, then paled when he saw sharp feathers being shot at him. He shut the door again and stayed pressed against it.

"What is it this time?" Hiccup asked, worried.

"Stymphalian birds," the bigger boy answered, rushing to their room and grabbing his ax. "They'll eat everybody if I don't go out there."

"Call for Ares if you need help!" Hiccup called after him.

Barely paying attention, the warrior ran out of the home, charging at the birds. Their metallic feathers were difficult to slice through, but his strength was enough to knock the birds out of the sky. One was trying to eat an elderly woman, clawing through the walls to her home. Snotlout reached her first and grabbed its bronze beak. It bent in his grip. Snotlout was starting to notice something strange. He had been able to kill several of the monsters. Achilles had not gotten to them first. For a split second, Snotlout feared that the hero had been killed. He was always the first one out there. Then Snotlout remembered that if the warrior was gone, he surely would have noticed it in a fight like this. So, for whatever reason, Throk was just not there. This meant he had his chance for glory.

Snotlout excitedly climbed up another building, leaping off in time to grab onto another bird. It was not able to fly with both of their weights, so it fell to the ground. The boy turned when he heard another scream. Someone on the other end of Berk was getting attacked. It was a large flock of the birds. That was fine. It just meant that Heracles would be a household name by the end of the night. That is if enough people survived. Snotlout heard more screams from the opposite end. There were a lot of birds. Too many. He could not fight them all. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his father leaving the home and joining the fight, but even still, they needed at least several more fighters to be successful. They were grossly outnumbered. Snotlout did not know how to protect the entire city. He did not know that the sounds of chaos had grown too loud for Hiccup to believe everything was alright. He was just as oblivious to the beseechment that the mortal had made. Snotlout covered his ears when there was a wild laugh that filled the air. It caused a great wind that blew the birds into each other. They began to get destroyed by this action. All Snotlout and Spitelout could do was watch in amazement. The father was completely unsure what had happened, but when the sky turned red, Snotlout knew. Hiccup had just called upon the help of Ares.

In mythology, the Stymphalian birds were also defeated by the mighty hero, Heracles. He used arrows dipped in poisonous Lernaean Hydra blood. Since this Heracles is fresh out, I thought this would be a nice way for him to show his strength. Their dung is also poisonous, so luckily, Snotlout didn't wait long enough for them to relieve themselves.