Fight for War - Ares x OC

01 - Ohitekah

Disclaimer to this story: I want to stress this is a work of fiction where I used the Dakota Access Pipeline protests as a background setting, however, the events that I used are only slightly based on real events and mainly invented by me. The main character is of imagined Lakota and Dakota descent purely because I needed, for this story, a cultural environment where an ancient god of war could be recognized as such by somebody in this present day and age. Also, I felt that the protests against the Dakota Access Pipeline were a good setting for a story on the complexity of peaceful resistance, aggression and violence, fighting for a righteous cause and of course love.

The crimes committed against the indigenous people of those lands are still ongoing today. Their voice and agency is stronger than it has ever been, but still it gets silenced by racism, ignorance, hate, good meant 'helping' by the privileged, plain lack of respect and institutional racism.

My story is explicitly not an effort to give voice to their fight. Their voice has been taken by white writers, journalists, historians, scientists and politicians for too long now, I don't need to add up to that.

My story uses minor motives from Lakota Dakota cultures and the events around the Dakota Access Pipeline. After all, this is just a love story. A love story between a girl that has a temper and aims for discord rather than peace and the Greek God of War and bloodlust; Ares. I hope it gets a happy ending, don't you?

Μἀχομαι διἀ πὀλεμος - Fight for War.

"For no man ever proves himself a good man in war, unless he can endure to face the blood and the slaughter, go close against the enemy and fight with his hands." (The Spartan Creed - by Tyrtaeus c. 650 BC)

Ohitekah

"No! It is time for action. Now! We have to fight back!" Exasperated, Shappa slammed the palm of her hand onto the make-shift table in front of her, rattling the empty coffee cups for a moment. She noticed Mato staring at her from under his hood sitting across from her, his eyes weary. He knew her temper. She scowled at him in her mind. He had chosen the path of pacifism.

The Elders that crowded the head of the table sighed at her antics, their mutual leader, a frail grey haired man, spoke slowly with measured words.

"Shappa, Standing Rock Sioux as well as ReZpect Our Water are peaceful resistance movements, you know this... and..."

She cut off his monologue with a razor sharp voice. "No! These Man Camps bring drugs and crime to our doorstep! There is no work nor welfare to be had here! These companies are relentless and every day, this black snake is advancing. Only violence can answer violence now!"

Mumbling arose within the gathered group. The old man continued with a sigh, as if he was tired of the discussion already. His voice silenced the unrest and the group held its breath. "No, Shappa. We denounce violence. If you cannot refrain from speaking words of aggression, your place is not among us."

Before his final words fell, she had stood with one violent movement, unable to wait for the last sentence with patience nor with civility. She threw her chair on the ground and spat in front of them on the table. As one, all the men present stood, aghast.

Shappa had no interest in their indignation, her anger held no room for words. She fled further escalation in the hopes they would fight each other when she was no longer present. And with a swish of her long black hair over her softshell coat, she left the shabby site hut, slamming the door with a loud thud.

Standing outside, the cold wind whipped up her hair and she took a deep shuddering breath. Walking a few steps away from the desolate building, she stared over the empty plains towards the horizon and a deep surge of freedom took over her body, causing a flurry of butterflies in her stomach. Damn, that felt good!

Aiming to walk to her dark green pick-up truck, she halted when a deep voice behind her seemed to caress her back: "Well, wašté*, why the euphoria? Your plan did fail, technically."

*beautiful (lakota)

Irritation hit her, as well as a deep feeling of unease, while she slowly turned. Behind her, leaning against the site hut in the shadow, a tall man stood. Dressed in black denim with black chelsea boots he seemed to absorb all light, taking up more space than was visibly possible. His features were sharp, as if carved in marble with a knife. Handsome he was but not beautiful. A lopsided grin showed canine-like teeth, a large scar marred the left side of his face, and she could discern multiple other scars on his arms. He was muscular but lean, like a sports climber. And his eyes, his dark eyes seemed to glint from deep within. An eerie intelligence, or hidden knowledge showed there. Goosebumps erupted on her skin.

When she locked eyes with him he pushed himself from the wall and walked towards her, his gait agile and lean like a cat's. Then suddenly the sunlight fell over the roof of the site hut, revealing his red hair to the bright light. It was cut short, but the colour, although vibrant, seemed natural. She studied his face when he approached. No freckles.

"What is it to you? You are an outsider." She had to stare up at him, he was towering over her.

His grin seemed glued to his face. "I think not. I have walked among you, although not recently and by another name."

Another name?

"Well, Mystery Walker. I wasn't euphoric because my plan failed, but because I spat on their lame words."

His eyes held mischief. "Well, isn't that insolent?"

His sarcasm coaxed a small smile from her. "Yes, but very gratifying. They will have a heck of a fight over this. And what do you know of my intentions anyway? Were you eavesdropping?"

He held his head at an angle, staring at her. "You might call it that." He kept on scrutinizing her and added. "You remind me of my sister."

She frowned. "Sister?"

"She loves causing strife amongst others."

She grinned at him. "Well. I just can't help myself."

"Indeed."

A silence fell and they just stared at each other. Then he looked past her, towards her car.

"Care to give me a ride?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Fuck no. I don't know you. You might be a violence and sex driven madman, leaving my dead body on the side of the road."

He seemed undeterred by her words. His grin was back, adorning his face. "Yeah, you might be right about that. Better safe than sorry, right?"

"What is your name anyway?"

"You can call me Ohitekah for now."

She frowned at that. What a weirdo! I can call him Ohitekah? For now? Is this not his real name?

His eyes glinted and his grin seemed to slowly disappear, as if it had been merely the act of a stage magician. He watched her with feral interest, like an animal staring at its prey. He seemed to wait for something.

Her mind worked furiously. She did speak her native tongue, took pride in that, but not as good as she should have. His name rang a lot of bells and their meaning was nothing good. Recklessly bold and ferocious came to mind. Brave and violent. She thought back at her quip on the dangers of giving him a ride. What the hell?

He was still watching her adding things up.

She decided not to take the bait. "Well, Ohitekah, it was nice meeting you. See you around."

He nodded at her seriously. "See you around, Shappa."

He turned and walked towards the part of the horizon that she had been staring at previously. She watched his smooth movements. Is he going to walk off into the wilderness just like that? And how does he know my name?