The Wreath of Divulgence

There was a complete withdrawal from the night's enjoyment. Ares did not look back and went straight to the gardens where not a fly nor anything and anyone could disturb him. He stayed at the pavilion that sat right at the center of the heavenly paradise.

The high heavens were with him: plain, hauntingly silent, and blue as his grim soul. Though the moon was smiling—the god knew her beam was not for him.

"Yet a smile suits me." He remembered, grinning with his soliloquy as he leaned on the balusters.

Ares chuckled at the memory of a few moments ago. He could not believe that he and Athena were dancing to the rhythm of a soft melody. He could not even fathom their interaction, though cumbersome, were more diplomatic.

"If only you did not work on your charm, Athena. I could have killed you there and then." He mumbled. "I could have killed her!" He staggered. For the first time, Ares felt mortified by his decision.

His once excited temperament and belligerent ways were forgotten for seconds when he reflected on his plan. The dagger was with him. One slip of it could have ended Athena a while ago. But the assault did not happen. Instead, he had created a memory with her meant for eternity.

But the shadow of his madness followed.

From the darkness, Enyo made her presence known to him. "Ares." She called.

Ares looked back and saw her carrying Erichthonius's crown in her hand. "What?" He unwisely questioned.

"I am here to remind you of this." She sternly said as she offered him the crown.

"I know." He lied. The god had forgotten that part of the plan. He began cursing Athena for making him want to abandon his ambition. Good thing he was now determined to pursue their scheme, knowing, as well, that he was now at the point of no return. "After I clear my thoughts, I will offer this gift to her." He loosely assured as he took the diadem.

Enyo was puzzled. "What do you mean?" She pried on him as she moved closer.

"Nothing."

"Well, do not tell me that you were distracted by Athena? We saw you dancing and laughing. The others and I thought you were about to end that favored little prick. But you cannot fool me, Ares. I know the face you graced upon her—that was no mask, was it?" There was a crack in her voice. Pain, fury, and a hint of betrayal were reeking from her. Even her glares were the eyes of a broken lover.

"Are you concluding that I was—"

"Nothing. Nothing—I was only thinking that you—you forgot about our plan." The war goddess faltered upon seeing the familiar blaze in his amber orbs.

Understanding her predicament, Ares moved out and went back to the public.

Enyo, now alone under the gaze of the wispy moonlight and the silent night breeze, stood still in the pavilion, looking out to Ares until he blended with the shadows. She was alarmed, flabbergasted as well to her realization of the matter. "He was enamored." She said in confidence.

Just like what Aphrodite inclined during the dinner, she knew all too well the disposition Ares displayed. It was no masquerade. She saw that glimmer when he lusted over Aphrodite; she knew that playful grin, for that was the same grin he had gifted her when they had their entanglement. But with Athena, it was more of a question—a struggle that might ruin their chance of taking over Olympus.

"Why must she carry beauty as well?" Enyo detested while she went on staring at the space where Ares once walked.

***

A game had started.

Loud cheers and a bubbly melody kissed the atmosphere as heavy wreaths of olives and violets bobbed in the air and down into the far-distant ground.

Pan had suggested a discus throwing where pairs threw their best shot, and whoever landed the farthest, the failed partner should reward them with something personal. Everyone loved the idea and immediately dragged somebody to it.

Win or lose—nobody cared. Everybody was thrilled as some offered their undergarments while others gave kisses on the lips. Athena perceived the affair hard to watch, but beyond any doubt, the game was joyous.

After knowing how the little tournament worked, Ares immediately searched for Athena amongst the frenzied crowd. And once he spotted her, he hastily offered once more to be her partner. "Will you do me the honor again?"

Athena felt something heavy—but brushed it off and nodded in approval.

Almost everyone had partaken in the game. At last, it was the antipodal pair's turn—making all heads focused toward them.

Once they stood before a line, Athena and Ares began to brace themselves for a battle, yet, this time, there were no lances and swords. Having only a wreath on their hands and a mounted strength to thrust it into the air, the god and goddess then fiercely counted—

One…

Two…

Three…

And there flew the wreath of olives and violets. The wonderment of whoever went a distance was more of a thrill when it was the god of war versus the goddess of wisdom. A fight between these two deities had always been a spectacle for everyone. Some were betting on Ares, yet the majority had their luck on Athena.

And the majority made the right choice.

With only a foot away from his, the goddess of wisdom did not disappoint the trust blessed upon her vigor. She won the game fair and square.

Pan played a short cheery tune on his flute dedicated to the beguiling discus champion. After this, the satyr politely asked, even teased, Ares for his tribute to Athena.

"Of course!" He happily answered. "Well, my dear champion. I offer you this—"

As he knelt before her, the god deliberately revealed Erichthonius's crown from his cloak and presented it to the crowd.

Of its familiarity and tailed tales to it, a chorus of surprised heaves resonated from the public. Whispers instantly began to rabble around them—murmurs of the past talks began to shadow Athena.

Upon seeing the diadem—of gold and precious sapphires forged from the hands of Hephaestus and blessed by her kiss and good tidings—Athena froze. The goddess felt disturbed and petrified, realizing the truth was no longer a cloud of smoke in her tight fist.

Her eyes never left the crown as Ares stared at her—eager to see her break down and bid an ado on that moment. "Come on, Athena. Time to let that tongue of yours reveal the whole truth." He avidly hoped.

Yet, despite the tension that turned almost all into a stone, Athena showed more composure than an amok. "Oh, what an—an endearing gift this is, Ares." She said as she accepted her son's crown while doing all her might not to shatter and coil into a ball. "I have been longing for this but cannot gather any burliness for I might trip into sorrows."

Another gasp from the crowd.

There was no more veil. All hearsays were condemned. And nosey little glares and murmurs were hushed. The goddess of wisdom finally uttered the revelation everyone was dying to hear.

"Wha-what?" Ares, who could not believe what he just heard, stammered as he rose from his genuflect. "Are you telling—"

"What?" Athena darted a naiveté at him. "You heard me. I am grateful, for I now have something that my son heartily treasured. I can now have a piece of him."

"Son—" Ares continued to falter on his words.

After a choir of gasps, there was convicting silence—-a melancholy of wonderment and curiosity from the guests as they surrounded the two. Athena no longer cared. She paid no heed to the brewing questions some had on their minds. Let the truth be free. Let everyone know that Erichthonius, the king of Athens, was his son—and she is proud of it.

"I guess I have finally addressed all those rumors," Athena said as she heartily stared at the crown in her hands.

"Aha!" Eris shouted, making others part as she moved towards her. "You are indeed hiding a secret, Athena! Tell me, who had deflowered the ever-virgin deity? Who might be this lucky man to have tasted the first drop of blood from the rose?"

"How dare you!" Athena blurted immediately, shaken from the insult thrown at her.

Instead of sympathy, more and more inquiries screeched. The crowd got closer and closer, suddenly making the goddess anxious and unprepared for the inevitable.

While the audience before him turned into a sea of selfish queriers, Ares's heel turned to stone as his mind still encompassed the revelation.

"She is a mother. She is indeed his mother." He thoughtfully repeated as he blankly stared at the ground and then at Athena.