The Last Ballad of Olympus: The Waltz of the Vulture and Owl

The Weaver's Mirage

Now, back in her private paradise—goddess Athena tried to calm herself down as she stared at the wound, still oozing with blood, that panged like those sharp poisoned arrows.

"He shall be punished." She cursed heavily as her cheeks grew brighter in red. "I cannot let him be a victor to this disgrace! You will be on your knees, Ares."

Once her cloudy thoughts were cleared, Athena instantly remembered the knife she held—feeling the strong gild ornamented on its shaft. The embedded pain from Ares's bite panged even more as she hardened. The goddess was about to rage, but she quickly subsided—doing her best not to cause a commotion knowing that Nocturna was still asleep.

"He is an idiot!" She grunted.

To forget what happened, Athena cleaned her wound, wrapped it with a clean cloth, and gathered her tools as she decided to let her mind lose on weaving.

"Purple and gold—yes, those are the perfect shade. Oh! And maybe a little silver for a shine." Athena said as she scoured her threads, neatly organized in their designated cabinet.

***

"I just noticed that Athena and Artemis were nowhere to be found since yesterday." Aphrodite realized.

"Well, Artemis is surely in her lair," A centaur said, "With Athena, probably in Athens."

"They both agreed with the celebration."

"Let them be, Aphrodite," Hermes added. "You know that both of them valued their isolation sacredly. Remember when I dragged Artemis?"

Aphrodite laughed, ringing the ballroom with her sweet voice. "Oh, yes! I remember it clearly. I remember her arrows almost hit your head." She flippantly recollected.

"Ha! Ha! Good thing I was fast enough to escape from it."

"But Athena usually stayed in her chamber. When I snuck last night, she was not there—so was Nocturna!"

"Perhaps she is mourning her—"

Aphrodite put a finger in front of her mouth, signing him to be sure with his words. "Hush!" she jabbered.

"What?" Hermes questioned in a whispering tone. "Everyone knows that her demeanor changed ever since the king of Athens died. She is slowly proving the rumors about her being the mother of Erichthonius were true. He was a good king: wise, admirable—a genius! It should not be questioned that Athena, indeed, was his mother."

Aphrodite's lip stiffened. Deep in her core, she knew she was guilty of believing the same idle talk about Athena and Erichthonius's relationship. But at the moment, knowing that it only remained as talks along the winds, she chose to defend Athena. "Those were just rumors, Hermes. Athena vowed chastity for eternity, and I believe her. She is one of the beauties who is immune to my shenanigans."

Hermes sighed and did not bother to argue with her. With the goddess's mesmerizing stares while defending Athena, he knew well that his body reacted like a loose man. Admittingly, the wine was also taking over his senses.

The god of forge and blacksmithing, Hephaestus, sat far from them and heard everything they said. He was anxious if the gods were trying to insult his son. Instead, it was the same tittle-tattle about Athena's relations and her virginity.

He felt guilty and sad for her. A wise goddess, also very courageous and democratic, was repeatedly stabbed by her equals all because she chose to raise the child in secret and far from their ascendancy. He wanted to speak out, but his nerves curled into a ball, especially at the range of Aphrodite.