Arena's Victor: The God of Darkness |The Anak Series| [COMPLETED!]

Victor

The soft crackle of the hearth's rich timber under its eternal vegas-gold and cardinal-red mixing blaze flowed throughout the Olympian Throne Room. Baby blue skies dotted with calm white clouds caressed Olympus' edges, and the warmth of the Sun hugged the hundreds of deities that celebrated the Olympian gods' triumph in the Second Titanomachy.

Little godlings dressed in gently flushed tunics raced through the heavens' gardens and paths as their fathers and mothers gleefully drank Dionysus' savory red wine and elixir. Above the clouds, their chattering and cheers never ended. Truly, Olympus had regained its peace.

"And then, Sister, I wrestled with the Hydra, a beast of infinite crowns!" He said, mimicking his storytelling with his hands.

Hestia chuckled as she tended to the hearth, shaking her head at his dramatic actions. "Well, I shouldn't have worried; after all, it seems like you were having a blast," she teased.

His wide smile faltered for a second, "Well-" he paused.

The sea green in his eyes reflected off the hearth's flames. He reached out his hands toward the comforting glow.

"Yeah," his grin returned, "I made good relations with many companions."

A short silence enveloped the air, only the sound of the godlings playing in the nearby rushing stream and a few Minor gods who talked while enjoying their ambrosia treats filled the ears of the two siblings.

"Perseus-" Hestia started.

"Sister, I must tell you of the time Mrs. O'Leary was caught biting her own leg; it was marvelously absurd!" The God of Darkness interrupted merrily.

He pushed back a strand of his raven-black hair that dropped below his eyes as he craned his neck upward to admire the architecture of the Throne Room. The quartz pillars lined with forgotten jewels seemed to glimmer against the pearl-white marbled floors.

"I have dearly missed Olympus; there was little Elysium-like sanctuary where I had been left," he trailed off.

His thoughts were scattered and jumbled, almost as if they were battling for the rightful dominion of his mind.

The god looked off into the skies, the nostalgia of peace eating at his head. "And I have missed my brothers and sisters," he finished as he turned to look at Hestia.

A bright smile enveloped his face, "I would never hurt any of you."

The Goddess of the Hearth opened her mouth to reply but was cut off by a cheerful yelp in the distance.

"Heyyy!" The playful sound of one of the godlings falling into the river on the other side of the large, unfurled Throne Room doors made him beam with joy.

Perseus brushed the sides of his thighs as he stood up from the hearth's oak seats. He looked down to notice that he was wearing his old silk white chiton that he hadn't worn since the Golden Age. It had been a gift from his father, Kronos—however, at the moment, he didn't seem to be displeased by the revelation.

"Sister, beyond those doors leads to the gardens, yes?" He asked, staring at the small gap in the opening.

His question was met with an unnerving silence.

The god turned around, confused, "Hestia?" He wondered aloud, not understanding why she had not responded to his question.

Hestia looked at him sadly, her earlier fiery crimson eyes had lost their typical spark. Her lips were pressed together, and she had stopped tending to the Hearth.

"Perseus, you-" She started again.

"What is the issue, Sister?" Perseus inquired abruptly, cutting her off once again.