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

The Ethereal Owl

The celebration was grand and deific. The lovers kissed, and their romance now sealed for eternity. Pygmalion and Galatea—man and wife, strange and mild, creator and art, it was uncanny, but the emotions they felt for one another were real.

While the couple danced to the rhythm of drums and flute, Aphrodite approached Athena as she watched guests gradually rise to their feet and dance with the newly wedded.

"There you are!" The goddess of love jovially saluted.

"Aphrodite," Athena smiled. "Do you need anything?"

"No, but I wanted to give you something."

"Oh," She tilted her head innocently, wondering if such a deed she had done to be blessed by the beautiful goddess herself. "What is it?" The goddess of wisdom asked.

There was a sly smirk on Aphrodite's lips. She was playfully pulling her away from other guests and dragging her into the shades.

"Where are we going?" Athena asked once more while being yanked in rapidity. "Slow down, Aphrodite!"

The goddess laughed. "Oh, do not be a mope, dearie."

Once hidden behind bushes and trees and bestowed with the scenic view of the vast farmyards, Aphrodite hushed Athena and told her to close her eyes.

"Go on, close your eyes."

Athena followed. "What is all this?"

After some seconds, Aphrodite grabbed something behind her robe and placed it into Athena's hands. "Here—this is for you!" She jovially squealed. "I always wanted to give this to you."

As she opened her eyes, Athena was spellbound by the beauty of the bottle—made of solid gold and decked with gems having the same colors as the rainbow.

"Oh, how lovely this is," Athena exclaimed, feeling every stone trailing on its curve.

"It is a rose perfume," Aphrodite said. "And I know you will love it." She smiled even more.

The goddess of wisdom opened the cork and smelled the perfume. Her nose grew red, overawed by the scent. But once she smelled it again, the aroma turned mild—a distinct smell of sweet rose.

"My dear—this is wonderful! Thank you, sweet goddess." She cheered, grabbing her hand in graceful gratitude.

"Oh, Athena—such humility you have. And you are always welcome."

The two goddesses leisured for a few minutes before returning to the celebration.

As the sun came down, painting the sky in gold and dandelions—Athena decided to return to Olympus and have some rest before dallying with a poem she wanted to finish.

However, as she ascended to a flight of stairs, Ares was there on top—staring at her like the usual disdainful greeting he always made.

They said nothing. Mouths remained closed as their eyes spoke for the abhorrence they felt for each other. Once they passed each other's shadows, Athena glided to her haven and nestled in her comfort when the doors shut.

She remembered that day.

She remembered how glad she felt and treasured such a gift.

Pygmalion and Galatea had a different one, but hers seemed more by heart. Athena knew not why the goddess of love suddenly gifted her when the occasion was about the lovers.

But still, Athena—unknown or ignored by many—appreciated little things, whether be an offering of a single coin or even a lone rock, for as long as the heart yearned for such an endearing gesture.