Abaddon (BoyxBoy)

δεκατέσσερα Fortune Seemed Compliant

It was always the same dream or, in Abaddon's case, the same vision. The dewy and emerald grass felt alive and the yellow tips of the blades tickled his palms. The dark trees which surrounded the clear pool were always cold, colder than the mirror-esque water itself. Sinister was the word in which he felt was most appropriate for his vision's aura. His usual routine was to downplay his emotions of unease.

After all, this was his mother. She would never hurt him. Like Elpis. A pang of longing for his adopted mother rang at his heart like a bell in a temple. However, along with this came the throes of indifference with thoughts of his foster father and the flames of longing were quickly snuffed out, like a dim candle which had flickered for far too long in the night.

He did not hate Solon. Even now, much to his infernal shame, his first and foremost yearning was to make the man proud. To become his true heir and watch as Simonides was trampled under his feet. His face tinted pink at his boyish desires. He had hoped to move past that dream, only to find that the hooks weren't so easily dislocated from his body. He had spent his entire life looking up from his mother's lap to just catch a glimpse of his father's eyes which were eternally on Simonides and never on him. Never on him.

Abaddon's mouth trembled as Helen, still in the shape of a snow white swan, caressed his arm with her wing. He had to stop thinking about them. Helen wasn't Elpis and Elpis wasn't Helen. She was the past and that was where he needed her to stay.

This is the work of Ares. It was due to him that these thoughts ravaged his mind. He pet his mother's swan form absently. He could not have doubts now. Not when he was so close to his final goal: The restoration of Troy.

Yes, it did not matter if Helen was using him. For he too was using her for his own purposes. If what he had heard over the years through idle adult gossip was true, then he was the one true heir of Sparta along with Troy. Menelaus was not long for the world. Once his soul was in the Underworld, Sparta and its army was his.

He salivated over the power he was soon to have. Power over Simonides and his father. Power over Ares. He would avenge Troy and take down every city state which opposed him. For his true father. For his true homeland. For his true birthright.

No one, not even Hera nor Hades would stop him. He loved the God of the Underworld but, he would rather be thrown into the Phlegethon than allow Hades to get in his way.

"My son let us exchange words. What darkens your mind?"

The swan's voice shook his entire being. I must not allow her to worry. From his lips he replied," Nothing plagues me mother. I only produce melancholy thoughts of finally seeing you after a fortnight."

The swan flapped its wings and rested its head upon his lap. If only the swan's thoughts were as innocent as its appearance. Hera will be delighted in these new developments.
--
Ares awoke. His body trembled violently and yet, it was not cold. Shaking off the morning's drowsiness, his sandals tip toed over his comrades as he went to meet the dawn, unaware of who was following at his heels.

From beyond the hill from which he stood, Ares witnessed his fellow god bring in the sun from the star's resting bed. He wished to call upon the name of Helios once more. They had been friends at one point in time on Olympus and now-

"I have no one." He said solemnly.

"No one oh mighty Ares? Am I not your friend?"

The god of war attempted to not show much emotion but knew instantly that he had failed. Ikaros laughed openly at him and instead of anger, Ares experienced a flutter in his bowels. The dark haired youth threw a sword in his direction which he caught flawlessly with ease.