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

Chained Fates

Her beauty was divine.

Her charm was flowing smoothly like a stream that fed the meadows.

Although her eyes were closed, something about it felt enchanting—a spellbinding magic that his amber eyes could not look away.

She was the tender beauty—never frank, never crushing. She was the quiet soul, the observant, and the shy grin that was rare to behold.

She was the little star that twinkled—so little yet remained when others were no longer there for the moon.

As Ares continued staring at the sleeping Athena, he reflected on old memories that suddenly returned to his head.

He remembered the first time he met her—meek, quiet, and indeed a lost child who was still learning the world despite being in a young lady's body. Contrary to the tales surrounding her birth, there was no armour, no scowl on her face to show her bravery—much like every newborn, she was as confused and dazed as everyone else.

Ares remembered how Athena was never the regal one but the most teased by all gods except for Hephaestus. She was the centre of all tomfoolery for being a full-grown woman who had no past but only a mournful memory of her birth that caused Zeus the most painful of all headaches.

There were no compliments towards each other, not even a little greeting. Athena had not looked at him for a few days, nor had Ares reached out and introduced himself. However, when Zeus instructed them to train with each other, it was there that they formally got acquainted and soon realised how much they loath each other's presence.

It was a brutal training of armoury and muscles—yet despite appearing like an innocent and fragile woman, Athena proved her worth as she defeated Ares in every sport they competed.

Blood and sweat gruesomely decorated their training ground.

While poor Ares lay still on the ground—having to catch his breath after those rigorous competitions, Athena gloriously towered over him and was praised by Zeus, declaring her his favoured one.

At that moment, the god of war's envy began to poison his core–seeing now that the new goddess was his threat.

He began to hate her—cursed her very existence. The god had wished he should have killed her from the start—but it was not to be destined.

Revenge was too late since he was now feeling something unusual, something he was so familiar with but too tired to understand. While laying beside the sleeping beauty—like a stalking wolf on a full moon—the god smelled her hair, permitting her scent to possess all his manly senses.

"Athena—" He mumbled sweetly before he fully closed his eyes.

But as the sun came down—

"Baby!" Athena suddenly screamed, alerting Ares out from his dreamless sleep.

Bewildered, Ares sat up and asked sleepily, "Wha—what happened?"

"A—a ba—baby." Athena fumbled without blinking as she steadied her breath and tried to comprehend what came of her. "I—I heard him. Have you not heard him?" She then looked at him with the same puzzlement plastered on her face.

"A baby? I have heard nothing, not even a faint tweeting from the birds." He told her.

"But the cries were loud. The cries were like a shrieking cat, Ares!" Athena bolted from the bed, opened the windows wide and looked out like a mad woman looking for something priceless.

Ares was in disbelief as he stared at her. "Had she lost her mind?" He thought while pondering such brokenness that he compared it to a silver lining that ceased, leaving only a streak of her former self just as what she had implied before she lost consciousness.