Chained Fates

Her beauty was divine. 

Her charm was flowing smoothly like a stream that fed the meadows. 

Although her eyes were closed, something about it felt enchanting—a spellbinding magic that his amber eyes could not look away. 

She was the tender beauty—never frank, never crushing. She was the quiet soul, the observant, and the shy grin that was rare to behold. 

She was the little star that twinkled—so little yet remained when others were no longer there for the moon. 

As Ares continued staring at the sleeping Athena, he reflected on old memories that suddenly returned to his head. 

He remembered the first time he met her—meek, quiet, and indeed a lost child who was still learning the world despite being in a young lady's body. Contrary to the tales surrounding her birth, there was no armour, no scowl on her face to show her bravery—much like every newborn, she was as confused and dazed as everyone else. 

Ares remembered how Athena was never the regal one but the most teased by all gods except for Hephaestus. She was the centre of all tomfoolery for being a full-grown woman who had no past but only a mournful memory of her birth that caused Zeus the most painful of all headaches. 

There were no compliments towards each other, not even a little greeting. Athena had not looked at him for a few days, nor had Ares reached out and introduced himself. However, when Zeus instructed them to train with each other, it was there that they formally got acquainted and soon realised how much they loath each other's presence. 

It was a brutal training of armoury and muscles—yet despite appearing like an innocent and fragile woman, Athena proved her worth as she defeated Ares in every sport they competed.

Blood and sweat gruesomely decorated their training ground. 

While poor Ares lay still on the ground—having to catch his breath after those rigorous competitions, Athena gloriously towered over him and was praised by Zeus, declaring her his favoured one.

At that moment, the god of war's envy began to poison his core–seeing now that the new goddess was his threat. 

He began to hate her—cursed her very existence. The god had wished he should have killed her from the start—but it was not to be destined.

Revenge was too late since he was now feeling something unusual, something he was so familiar with but too tired to understand. While laying beside the sleeping beauty—like a stalking wolf on a full moon—the god smelled her hair, permitting her scent to possess all his manly senses. 

"Athena—" He mumbled sweetly before he fully closed his eyes. 

But as the sun came down—

"Baby!" Athena suddenly screamed, alerting Ares out from his dreamless sleep. 

Bewildered, Ares sat up and asked sleepily, "Wha—what happened?" 

"A—a ba—baby." Athena fumbled without blinking as she steadied her breath and tried to comprehend what came of her. "I—I heard him. Have you not heard him?" She then looked at him with the same puzzlement plastered on her face. 

"A baby? I have heard nothing, not even a faint tweeting from the birds." He told her. 

"But the cries were loud. The cries were like a shrieking cat, Ares!" Athena bolted from the bed, opened the windows wide and looked out like a mad woman looking for something priceless. 

Ares was in disbelief as he stared at her. "Had she lost her mind?" He thought while pondering such brokenness that he compared it to a silver lining that ceased, leaving only a streak of her former self just as what she had implied before she lost consciousness. 

Yet, the more he glanced at her—the more he remembered how he newly perceived her: a twinkling little star who remained when others were no longer there. 

"It will be all fine, Athena."

Without realising how audible his murmur was, Athena paused her childish rage and faced him—not understanding how her anger suddenly withdrew from her spirit. 

"Maybe—maybe." She reassured, walking back into the bed and sitting on the edge as she processed her shattered thoughts. 

Ares moved closer, trying to be as benevolent as possible—oh, but her perfume grew stronger, tempting him to do something against both of their will. 

But his control prevailed, clenching his fist to a tight close, and allowing himself to comfort her courteously.

As if the air brought forth ease, Athena paid no mind to him as she kept her silence and continued to gather her thoughts. 

"Will you accept my offer now?" Ares gently spoke, breaking her immersion.

"Of what?" 

"To rule beside me. A great god also needs someone to advise him."

"You have Enyo and Eris," Athena tauntingly answered. 

Ares sarcastically chuckled—grinning to her jest that rather tasted sour. "Ha! Why would I choose either of them when we, three, had little to no difference?"

"Is that so?" Athena teased even more as she turned to face him. 

"Oh, I know so, Athena. I am not an imbecile—I know what everybody thinks. Imagine a new Olympus headed by two impulsive deities. There would be no balance, no equilibrium like what Zeus somehow managed to maintain despite aggressively breaking the fundamental and sacred laws of Olympus. The heart that once sat highly above the throne beats for such law."

"I never thought you were also a deep thinker." 

"Perhaps we are indeed one soul split into one, Owl."

Staring back to the floor, with her hands clasped and his words nailed into her head, Athena contemplated—recalling those hearsays about how different yet similar she and Ares were. "Well," She began as silver eyes drew deep like the sea's abyss, "I somewhat believe in that. I have never told anyone of that perspective. Not that I meant to keep it a secret, but it is just that I do not have the chance to express such sentiment. But yes—I do believe there are similarities between us. I see little of myself in anyone. I do not know why, yet that is how I see and understand everything around me. We are two opposites but the same—the two different sides of the same coin." When bright eyes bewitched the amber ones, Athena wondered, "Why chose me when Enyo and Eris were ready to bend on your will? Ares, they kissed the ground you walked on. I know you and Enyo had romance in the past—why not rekindle it?"

Ares drew closer and closer, then whispered straight to her curious face, "Because there is no romance to begin with. Why rekindle something when it was nothing but one night to pass the misery."

A stroke of pity came into Athena—sad to know that the deity who wanted her gone was nothing but someone to quench his lust. "What a tragedy. I thought you did not want to be like Zeus, and here you are blatantly confessing to only using the goddess for pleasure." 

"Indeed, it is horrible, but you forgot that we are using each other. Two desperate beings who needed warmth—of embraces that we thought impossible for us to gain."

"Impossible?" Athena sharply glared, mocking him and his notion. "You had many romantic relationships, Ares. Both you and your clandestine partners easily threw love like it is nothing." 

Raising a brow, Ares countered as he moved a little farther, "Well, do you know anything about love? You easily judged me and my actions—do you have grounds for it?"

The growing gawkiness became overbearing—heavy and quite distressing that Athena looked away from him and stared at the scene outside the window with birds flying in the far distance and the golden afternoon that appeased the apprehension clawing on the soul. 

"I love my son. I love the people who once beseeched my name, and I now love the beautiful family who wholeheartedly welcomed me into their home. I think I have strong grounds for love. How about you? Did you offer your proposal to me out of love for good change or out of your desperation?"

"I still believe in good values, Athena. Hellas might antagonise me—but I still obey the principles that I know would ground me."

"Yet your actions did not match half of what you told me, Ares."

"You do not fully know me, Owl." 

"I thought so. We are still strangers. Well, I think you know my answer to your proposal." 

Passing the minute of dead air, the two had their moments of reflection. Understanding more about themselves and with life—with one as a mortal and the other as an immortal. 

They had their thoughts drowned in a deep well, reaching out to age-old conflicts in dire need of resolutions. Memories of old that dare not to vanish were gnawing into their thoughts. Athena remembered her son, Erichthonius and how she valued him—how he strengthened her despite the growing distrust of her name at that time. And Ares remembered his desire to be recognised and be called by his children their father—

But all was too late now. 

He cursed his wretched desires. He cursed his soul who bore no leniency and no control. 

The afternoon was spent like this—in hush-hush as their thoughts grew gradually into a shadowy phantom that ate the last spare of light. 

Somehow, when the god of war was still in his wishful thinking, Athena broke down in tears—covering her face with her sweaty palms and moaning all the pain her body was accumulating. 

"Athena?" Ares became worried, comforting her as he stroked her cold back. 

"I—I am sorry. I—I was—I was just remembering my son an—and the pain of lo—losing him. I have to hide it. I have to hide the emotion that tortured me! I just realised now tha—that how—how lonely it is to—to navigate life as a mo—mortal with nothing on your name, especially when your past became a myth and a future that is foggy as the menacing midnight rain."

Ares said nothing as he tried to ease her bottled emotions.

"I—I am so—sorry." Athena sobbed, 

"No need to be remorseful." He calmly told her.

After the bitter tears, Athena slowly became comfortable—collected her thoughts and calmed her spirit. And out of the blue, a thought flashed through her head. "I have a proposal for you, Ares." She looked at him with tears still in her eyes and then gently curled her lips into a small smile. 

Seeing such kittenish behaviour, Ares turned red as an apple, prompting him to struggle while trying to focus on her words.

"Listen—we are in this moment when all our thoughts are sprawled on the table. It would not be a fair sentence if one goes out the door with nothing in hand. I see your plans for the new Olympus, but I still haven't seen the good things in it, for my judgement of you is still rooted in what happened between us in the past. You have promised me that if I accept your proposal, I can pardon Paeon and Vivinna's family from this atrocious labour you imposed, am I right?"

"Yes," Ares smiled back. "But it does not remove you from being my hetaerea."

"Fair point. It is my mistake, after all—a punishment for lying."

"You have a good offer on that, but let me tell you that you are a terrible liar, Owl. However, I am surprised you are not reacting to it negatively. I thought you might pounce on me."

"It is a good start for me to control my temper, especially with you. I propose that I will officially be your friend. Let us start from the very beginning and build a better relationship. I cannot and would never offer you romance, but at least I can be someone you trust—someone you can lean on."

Her words were like magic. It was like listening to a potent hymn that even the gods were not spared. He was stumbling on his position—could not apprehend what she uttered from her very mouth. 

"Friend?" There was enthusiasm—a little spark of joy that was flickering. But all of a sudden, a dark cloud appeared. The phantoms of their deepest thoughts merged and became a monster that hovered above him—choosing him in particular as it sensed his burbling desire for rage and disorder. 

Athena nodded. "Yes. It would be a start."

However, instead of seeing the same quaint zeal she heard from his voice, Athena was staring at an expressionless Ares, who seemed devoid of positivity. His amber eyes only looked at her with a dead gaze as if leeching at her soul. There was nothing of him—nothing to be understood. Athena only felt embarrassed and thought her treaty of friendship was more like an insult than a beginning of openness between them. 

"Pomegranates were red, ripe, and divine. The seeds were consumed as the soul yearned. Their skins reduced to a sheet of uselessness as the fabric on your skin fell into the ground." Ares declared—stating riddles that confused Athena.

"What are you talking about?"

Rushed and burning like the embers of a pit, Ares moved a little more, grabbed her hands, and began to scold her—reminding her of the night she always wanted to forget. "You forgot the pomegranates? The pomegranates, Athena! Please remember those wretched seeds! I—I took it from the sacred tree. I do not know why I did. I do not know why I saved it. But it felt right when I—when we consumed it that night. Ha! Ha! I—I cannot fathom such a scheme, yet it worked. It worked! Oh, Athena, remember that night. Remember that night we had! It was me. It was all me!"

Athena slapped him, forcing him back to the bed as her fear choked her. It was like lunacy had gotten into his veins and went into his brain, causing him to do such a belligerent act. 

As Ares lay motionless with one hand soothing the pain on his cheek, Athena was slowly overwhelmed with emotions—sitting on the edge as she coiled in bitterness. When more of those fragmented memories materialised in her head, she realised one conclusion about the pomegranates, "Am I bound to him now? Oh, by the gods! I am married to him in the eyes of Olympus! Oh, may the heavens reach its hands to me!"