The Hound Of War (Complete)

Chapter 2: A New Beginning

Ares stood in silence next to the still unconscious boy, who slept rather peacefully, even after watching his home burn to ash. Ares smiled, a rather rare occurrence, especially with everything going on these past few days.

'The boy will grow strong under my tutelage. I have no doubts about that.'

Ruffling the sleeping child's hair, he quietly left the boy's room and entered the main room of Hestia's palace. They had both agreed it would be safest for the boy if he resided in her palace, as she rarely had any guests come and visitors, invited or uninvited. They could only wait for him to awaken from his pain and exhaustion induced slumber, and pray for the best.

Ares internally smirked, 'A god, an Olympian no less, praying. What has the world come to?'

Pushing the rather ironic thought aside, he made his way over to Hestia, who was sleeping as well. There had been many burns and other wounds that covered the boy, and while Hestia had been able to heal most of them, she was completely spent and had collapsed, leaving the god of war to carry her to the nearest bed.

Even with everything going as he and Hestia had planned, Ares was still worried. He knew the boy was a demigod, a powerful one at that, and he feared for the boy's safety should someone discover him. He wasn't so much of a fool to doubt his father wouldn't harm a child under the impression he was trying to steal his throne, for he had seen it many times. And it sickened him.

Shaking the dark thoughts and images from his mind, he tried to calm himself. As the god of war, his powers and abilities were great, but came at a cost: if he became enraged or furious, he would lose himself and go into a blood lust, attacking allies and enemies alike. So strong was his bloodlust that it even spread through his influence, bringing anger and fury to his followers. This state of being was to be feared, for Ares had once lashed out at Athena for killing one of his children and the result battle had caused the Peloponnesian War. Horrified at the destruction he'd brought upon the Spartans, he cursed the fates for putting such a burden upon him as he found ways to control his condition.

Ares shook his head once more. This was not the time to dwell on things of the past, not while the boy still needed help. And he knew someone that could help him; he need only convince him.

Leaving a note telling Hestia he'd return soon, the god of war made his way to the one place he knew he was definitely not welcome to visit.

The palace of Hephaestus.

Ares grimaced. He had his doubts that Hephaestus would help him, much less not try to kill him, but the god of war knew that under all the metal and man, somewhere deep down, that there was a heart of gold, and he would at least help the boy if only for his plight. That was, before a sword sprang from the door and implanted itself a little too close to some of his assets.

After relieving himself of thoughts pertaining to what could of happened, or what he could have lost, Ares made his way to the door and hesitantly knocked, still wondering how the newly deemed bronze-hearted god had gotten the sword aimed so very close to permanently making him a bit more feminine…

The door swung open, leading to a long dim hall lit by torches, where at the very end the sound of a hammer striking and shaping metal, telling of the forge god's presence within the palace. He slowly made his way down the hall, wary of anymore traps that may deter any visitors, but none made themselves present. Finally reaching the end of the hall, he was met with a wave of heat, causing him to almost immediately begin to sweat from the intense heat from the crippled god's forge.

Before he could speak, Hephaestus beat him to it, his voice echoing over the sounds of the hammer molding iron into shape.

"So", he rumbled," what can I do for my favorite brother. Craft him a new set of armor? Oh, or maybe forge a new shield. Maybe with that, he won't see fit to reward me by SLEEPING WITH MY WIFE!" he finished, with each word slamming the hammer into the forge with enough strength to make the godly metal crack.