One Deity's Ache

A mysterious song came humming in the air. It clawed through the thick walls and made itself a home on every corner of the megaron. None spared by its enchantment that even the god of war's private room was wrecked with its haunting tunes—making itself comparable to an unannounced rain pouring its tears with dread and loneliness. 

Loneliness was the perfect sentiment to describe the whole ambiance. 

As the night birds tweeted their closing sonnet, the anonymous song was twined with more farewells, filling the sighs of the evening tide with gloom and anxiety.

When the door was closed, and the fire of the last lighted torch waned, the old right-hand man was left in awe—to the point that everything crucial dwindled, leaving only the surprising declaration of his lord that how he wished for his long-time foe to be his queen. 

"The god of war is indeed unpredictable," Pantelis muttered as his feet dragged him to comfort.

However, despite now being in his abode with his dear old wife, Anemone, sleeping peacefully on their bed, the former general could not easily erase those raging eyes of Ares that softened too quickly when he mentioned Athena's name. 

He sensed the shift.

He could tell and understood the blossoming light inside the god's soul. 

"I never knew that at this day and age, I would witness this kind of spectacle to a known chaotic deity." He lastly uttered before surrendering to his downy bed and being one with the rhythm of dreams with his beloved. 

On the same deep dark hours when Hypnos's spirit gained the upper hand, reserving everyone's worries for the coming daylight, Ares sank into his chair and contemplated what he had just told his loyal subject. 

The god was uneasy, fidgeting with his fingers while pushing his hair back as he exhaled ferally. His head was heavy, though inside was only composed of a pit of never-ending darkness—a blank canvas ready to be stained with wet paint. 

"What in Olympus's name did I just blabber?" Gritting between teeth, he wailed like a child in a fit of pique. He leaned back, aggressively covering his face with his hands, and screamed as his shame painted his skin red, tailed with rage and anger towards himself. "Why am I saying those things? Athena, the new Hera? Argh! Now you have turned the table yourself, Ares!

I should not have said those sentiments! I should have thought everything before I let this mouth of mine ransacked the whole atmosphere. Oh, Athena, what have you done to me?" 

Once he opened his eyes, the dimly lit room greeted him with a daunting silence—allowing him more freedom to drown his thoughts with weariness and let his soul be in trepidation as his emotion was fighting a new war even though there was no certainty he could win. 

"Eyes as silver as the stars placed on the heavens. Skin white as the clouds and silky as the snow on mountain tops. Her hair was the darkest gold when night hovered—deep gold turned into the lightest bronze. She was the strongest of all my opponents but had the softest heart, for she even forgave those who did her the worst. Oh, Athena, you are indeed some kind of a marvel—one to be hated and, at the same time, adored. 

I saw the brilliance behind your quiet gaze. The burning fury behind that disciplined poise was remarkably hypnotizing—easily defeating your enemy down to his knees. 

I loath you with all my heart.

I despised your presence. Every breath you take is a beat I wanted to vanquish. But now—I do not know what you are to me." His burbling madness sighed in defeat. He raised his hands towards the ceiling, pointing a blame in the air as if Athena was floating—listening to his monologue. 

Nevertheless, something in that quiet moment had transported the god into a mood of cloak-and-dagger where his room turned into a cavern—all dark and cynical. 

Wide amber eyes peered into the nothingness—a wall of plain hues, permitting shadows to paint on its body. Ares could not stop looking at that specific space, sensing a presence lurking behind the foggy veil. 

"I can feel you." Ares breathily mumbled while his stares locked in that same area.

And when a light illuminated from a corner, Athena appeared—looking like the sun as she radiated with some kind of aura that "beautiful" was never enough to describe how she looked. 

Ares struggled to comprehend as his mouth gaped, and his eyes never dared to blink once he saw her. A sight to behold that seemed to be like a scene from a play where a king was searching for a wife who must be the fairest of them all—yet there she was gliding in grace, going towards him with a bambi smile curving on her red lips. 

It was laborious to try to ignore her. Athena's presence was too magnificent, too much that Ares could only settle on his seat and let the odds do whatever they pleased when they interacted. 

Only a foot away, the absence of hostility forced them to commence the exchange with a warm yet shy grin. Still and quiet in an obstinate position, Ares continued to study his guest, whose radiance blinded him. 

"Isn't the night charming, Ares?" Athena said silkily, matched with twinkling in her eyes. 

"A charming night indeed." He responded as the heat rose to his face.

The seconds froze after their salutations, left only with the sounds of their breathing slowly synchronized.

As he traversed down to study her whole figure, the god of war realized the round belly that Athena carefully caressed. 

He was speechless—too stunned to let out a wail, for it was unthinkable that the most chaste of all goddesses was carrying a child in her womb. 

But then it came to him the memory of what happened between them the other night. 

Her lips, her skin, the smell of her hair, and those tears that poured down due to pain—everything of her had become more vivid, especially now that she was right in front of him, possibly having their fruit growing inside of her, 

Perplexed by his silence and how he eyed her, Athena slightly tilted her head, gazed into his orbs, and questioned, "Is there something wrong?"

"Huh?" Ares's deep thoughts ceased. "Oh, nothing. I was—I'm just surprised that you are—"

And before he could end his words—the fair woman gently took his hands, placed them in her belly, and permitted him to feel the life that was kicking inside of her. 

Ares's eyes widened, feeling a growing whirlwind of emotion inside his body. There was numbness, and there was happiness. He could not fathom such a happening that everything seemed so surreal yet gaudy as the breeze that danced around them. 

His smile remained immobile—laughing when he felt another kick from the child growing in the womb of the once goddess of wisdom. 

Seeing his rare smile, Athena smiled as well while caressing his quivering hands that were mindlessly holding onto her hard belly. 

"Can you feel him?" She coquettishly asked, slowly kneeling before him and staring into his amber eyes. 

No words could ever escape from the mouth when bliss and butterflies stormed Ares's soul. He could not stop grinning and chuckling. 

When the heavy night began cracking like an egg, with hues of gold and lilac hinting in between, god and lady shared a kiss—ever arduous, ever sacred. Ares and Athena were not even bothered as unseen flames began scourging their skins and every bit of the rich carpet under their feet. 

A band of musicians was suddenly heard from the skies, singing praise and joyous chants accompanied by the beating of little drums, blows on the flutes, and strumming on the harps. 

As their kiss went deeper—it was like Olympus again, but even better. 

Her mouth was a ripe grape. A sweet and luxurious wine that even the gods would have scuffled gaining. She was glowing—a ray of walking sunshine, dazzled with the night's silver stars. Athena was the fairest of them all. She was a woman with pure intent, a bright heart, and a brilliant head. 

Her lips were his, and his were hers. 

But as the ardor went deeper and deeper—The magic was gone. 

"Huh—what? Athena?" Ares woke up when the rooster began calling for the sun. 

Dawn came like a mother in despair for chores. She was peeking behind the thick velvet clouds and stared at him in great puzzlement. 

The god of war was in a fog, feeling bashful yet—somehow—satisfied. He laughed at fate's cruel jest as he rested his chin onto the palm of his hand while his untamed head recalled the memories of seconds ago. "Ha, ha! Well, that was an odd circumstance. Oh dear, Athena, what kind of magic you had left that you managed to choke me so well? The aura, your smile, and the feel of what could have been our child in your womb was enough punishment to make a god go berserk." Sinisterly glaring at the distance—with amber eyes widened, that fury was about to start. The god continued as he grumbled, "Maybe it is my turn this time?" 

When the morning managed to poke through the trailing darkness, Ares stood and returned to his comfort—where darkness prevailed, and isolation was the embrace that no one could resist.