Trying to gain some balance as she instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck for safety and warmth she shook her head. “Me? I’m not an Olympian.”
“He hasn’t told you how to open them?” Of course he hadn’t. If Ares gave Alena the power to open the Gates of Olympus, then he also gave her the power to leave him at her discretion.
Alena pulled back and gave resistance to the stranger dragging her along as she began sensing danger around him. “You open them.” How else did he get in here if he didn’t come through the Gates?
“If you stay here you will die and so will he.” The stranger pointed at her aching burgeoning belly. “Open the damn Gates!”
“I can’t.” Alena’s shoulders drooped along with her lips.
Then this was futile. “I’m sorry,” the young man whispered to Alena just as he disappeared. “So sorry. You must get away from him, from here.” His sorrowful voice lingered heavy in the crisp air blowing all around her.
II
“What are you doing?”
The voice was distant, so distant and faint she thought she hadn’t heard anything at all.
“Alena?”
It wasn’t until Ares snapped his fingers in front of her face that the illusion in the mirror that had gripped her so vividly let her go. Slowly she came away from the vision, looked around to see she was in the bathroom, she was naked, and Ares was staring at her with much alarm. “Where is he?”
Ares let out a deep breath when she spoke; for a terrible and excruciatingly long moment, he thought she was lost to him for good, the way she stood there, staring so deeply into the mirror as though it were showing her some strange movie. When he first came in and saw her he would have sworn she was a statue. “Where’s who?”
Lights started to come back on in her mind as she remembered getting up to pee. She came into the bathroom, she used it, she got up, and there he was. “The man, he was here, the man.”
The concern that just fled his mind was running back to him on winged heels. “There’s no one here, Alena.”
Of course he was here, they were just at the Gates of Olympus and she was so cold she was numb and she was naked and she was—
Alena was wearing her heavy silk robe and while she noticed she was chilly, she wasn’t cold. She could feel her legs and her arms just fine. Turning towards Ares and holding up her arms to get a good look at the robe, it fell open. Ares gasped. “What?”
Looking down at her belly he pointed to it. “Raven has dropped, considerably.”
Alena looked down to see that he was right, and that would account for the pain in her hips. Raven was pushed right up against them, causing the bones to grind against each other when she took a step.
“Back to bed now, whatever happened we’ll talk about it in there.”
Alena took painfully awkward steps toward the door as Ares glared at her. “What are you staring at?”
“Why don’t you ask me for my help?” he shot back. “It’s clear you could use it. Stubborn woman.” He didn’t wait for her to ask, Ares just picked her up and brought her back to their bed. If he’d let Alena answer she might have told him the truth; she didn’t want to appear weak in front of the God of War, Husband or not. Tucking her in, Ares slid into the bed on the other side. “You know you’re staying until he arrives, right? Right here, you’re not going anywhere.”
Alena could argue but what was the point? It was clear she couldn’t walk—so there was no way she could have gotten to the Gates under her own power—she could hardly get the twenty steps from the bed to the toilet. She sat in the bed with her arms folded across her chest.
Ares expected a small amount of guff over his command and knew she must be in even more pain than he thought if she wasn’t giving him any. “So tell me about this man.”
The vision was still tingling in her head and the colors still bright as day, but she didn’t know what to say to him. “It was just a dream,” Alena muttered, “I must have been sleepwalking.”
“You know I hate lies,” Ares sighed, “don’t make me ask you again; the man.”
Being married to a God sure had its drawbacks. Alena sat there, staring at her hands and the blankets, anything but at Ares while she told the truthful tale of her little vision. By the time she finished her eyes were welling with tears. “I’d rather die than hurt you.”
“I know,” Ares soothed as he ran the palm of his strong hand over the top of her head and then ran his fingers through her hair. “You’re not going anywhere, woman, you’re mine, you understand me? Young or old, fat or thin, you’re my Wife and I’ll love you no matter what.” Ares didn’t kid himself; this was Olympus, and while Alena seemed to feel that the vision had been some type of Gift from the Gods, he thought it was more like a little fuck-you from Zeus as the old bastard continued his game. Especially since it involved the mirror and they were always one of Zeus’ favorite tools for torturing the mind. “Don’t let my Old Man get to you this way, I’ll deal with him. It was just a hallucination, Alena, there’s no truth in it.”
Alena wanted to believe him, take comfort in his words and his soothing touch but, “He was here,” she asserted in a soft whisper, “right here, he was.”
“He wasn’t.” Ares kissed the top of her head and brought her in as close as he could. “I’m sure he seemed very real, you touched him, smelled him, but he was still a hallucination.”
Her heart wanted to agree with him but her mind seemed to know better and the closest she could manage was, “If you say so.”
Ares pulled the covers tighter around her. “Back to sleep now. I will stand guard over you and make sure the young intruder doesn’t return.” Ares stayed awake the rest of the night keeping his arms locked around her and planning his confrontation with Zeus come morning. Ares had enough of this game already; if Zeus couldn’t be persuaded to stop then Ares would have to break his promise to Hera (which was bound to have consequences) and take Alena away from Olympus. He would find a place where they could live a peaceful life without the constant intrusion of his Family.
Chapter Eight
An Old-Fashioned Greek Tragedy-Part I
I
As with every morning, Hera arrived just after Eos displayed all of her morning grandeur. She was in a state over Zeus accusations of last night. Standing just outside the bedroom door, Hera refrained from entering when she thought she heard Alena talking to someone. Goddess or not, Hera wasn’t one to be rude and barge in; perhaps one of the women was helping Alena tend to an intimate chore, but that didn’t stop her from listening. It only took a moment for her to understand Alena was alone in the room.
“I know, I’m bored too,” Alena sighed as she rubbed her bulging belly. The skin there was so far stretched it felt as thin as onionskin, but that didn’t stop her from eating. She’d been eating all morning and couldn’t stop. With Raven’s bulk away from her stomach, Alena realized she was nearly starving. Onya made her croissants and served them to her with fresh butter, raspberry jam, and hot tea. Alena wolfed down the entire tray in ten minutes and asked for more. The bed around her was littered with the tiny remnants of the food she’d eaten this morning and their accompanying trays, saucers, cups, glasses, bowls, plates, forks, spoons and used napkins. Reaching for the last crumb of croissant sitting on a fine china plate, Alena let out a belch and then giggled as she stuffed the bread into her mouth. “Nothing to do but eat,” she mused almost happily as she thought Ares would be making a trip down to the Mortal World for groceries today. A knock at the door brought her out of her sugar-induced happiness. “Come in.”
“Good morning,” Hera said as she entered and looked around the normally tidy bedroom. Today the blankets were a muss, the bed strewn with dirty dishes, Alena’s clothes from last night haphazardly tossed across a chair, Ares’ clothing in a pile near the hearth. The room was heavy with the scent of sex, something she hadn’t smelled in this room for some time. Pregnancy was a strange thing; undoubtedly some part of Alena
knew what was about to happen and that last night was her last chance to be with her Husband for a while to come, and she took it. It didn’t mean she’d used her femme wiles to sucker Ares as Zeus implied when he predicted she was sucking him deeper into her web of deceit and betrayal by crying on Ares’ shoulder, ultimately getting him to make love to her, in a show not of love but of allegiance. “I see you’re hungry today.” That was a rather typical sign at this stage of pregnancy. For the next few days Alena would eat like a horse, for a few days after that her appetite would fade off, she would sleep more, and then the boy would arrive. Now Alena was gathering and storing her energy for the big event. “I think we should get rid of this,” she said, waving a hand in the air with a smile on her face. The dirty dishes disappeared and the bed was clean and smooth. “How are you feeling?”
Overall Alena felt fine, nearly right as rain in fact, except, “He’s dropped and I can’t really walk.”
Hera nodded. “Bed-bound for the next little while.” She pulled back the covers, exposing a naked Alena beneath. Not bothering to ask for permission, Hera laid her hands on Alena’s stomach to feel the boy inside. The reason Alena was having so much difficulty walking was, while the boy dropped into place, he had turned again. Just yesterday he was head-down but now he lay sideways within her. The boy was healthy and he was strong; so was his mother, and Hera foresaw no problems with the delivery. Since no one was expecting a vaginal birth, his position was of no consequence, only something for Hera to be aware of when the time came to slice Alena open and pull the boy from her womb.
“My back aches.”
Again, Hera nodded sympathetically. “I remember. It will be very difficult to get comfortable from here on out.” She ran a hand across the top of Alena’s head before pulling the blanket back over her. “It won’t be long, two weeks, maybe less, maybe more and then you’ll be holding your boy and this will all be a memory.”
The daily ritual of Hera’s laying of hands on Alena’s stomach done with for the day, Alena ventured to point out the white elephant looming in the room. “Do you believe what Zeus said? Can you tell…if…if I am?” She looked around the room for a moment and then back to her Mother–in-Law, “is there some way you can tell if I am?”
Like the rest of the Olympians, Hera wasn’t sure what to believe. Zeus’ talent for fucking up his Children’s lives knew no bounds and neither did the delight he took in it. Zeus was already burrowing deep into Alena’s head. He was already playing upon Alena’s love for Ares, trying to twist it and use it against her, against Hera as well. Zeus knew his Wife would do anything to protect her Son, Ares, her last remaining Child. He counted on her to be suspicious of Alena even though it wasn’t what she wanted or believed. “No. There’s no physical difference between the two clans to discern.” She wished there were, then they could put all fears to rest.
That was disappointing. Alena had been hoping that Hera would work some magick and be able to tell her bloodline so she would know one way or the other and not to have to question herself. Last night she’d told Ares about the vision, but he wasn’t much help. Alena didn’t agree with Ares’ assessment nor did she believe it was a dream. Although she wasn’t prone to having spontaneous visions, she was well versed in divination and scrying. Last night felt more like that than a mere dream. “I had a vision.”
“A what?” Hera stuttered, stunned at Alena’s proclamation. Feys of the Golden Lands were not typically prone to visions, having largely abandoned their use and skill in magick long ago. Faes of the Dark Kingdom never gave up their magick; they honed it, and were very adept at invoking visions and premonitions. “What kind of vision?”
Alena caressed her belly as she let out a long slow breath and then frowned. She needed someone else’s opinion on the subject and Hera seemed like a damn good choice. “I was in the bathroom and,” slowly she related the tale, being careful not to embellish or make any assumptions. Yet, the longer she sat here alone eating, and talking to the boy inside her, the more Alena began to think it was Raven who came to her in the vision, not as a boy, not even as an infant to hold and suckle, but as a man. “What do you think it means?”
“I don’t know, Child.” Hera listened intently as Alena spoke and several things struck her as odd. “You have a lot on your mind; it’s understandable that you might have a bad dream.” That wasn’t it, it was no dream, but Hera didn’t want to let on that she believed Alena was right and Ares was wrong. It would only be more fuel for Zeus’ fire, even though it was altogether possible that glimpses into the future were a talent that had lain dormant in Alena all of her life due to the belt she’d been forced to wear. If they were, it didn’t necessarily mean she was of the Dark Kingdom, since Fey and Fae were essentially the same creatures sharing the same genetic background.
“Ares said Zeus put a dream in my head.” She looked up at Hera, disappointed that she didn’t believe it was a true vision. “He used the mirror. Do you think it’s true?”
That would explain why Hera hadn’t run into Ares this morning; he was avoiding her for now. She wished she could ease Alena’s fear and tell her that Zeus wasn’t a malevolent man but even she wasn’t that good of a liar.
“Why does he hate me so much?” Alena asked when Hera gave no answers. “Not just me, it seems he hates all Celts and so does everyone else here. What did we ever do to you? Artemis? Is that it? Is that—” Alena was letting her fear run away with her as she talked and as her words came faster, Raven started to roll inside her. “Ow,” she groaned and doubled over.
Hera gently pushed Alena back on the pillows. “I think he’s telling you to calm down. You’re safe here; Ares won’t let anything happen to you.” Unfortunately, her words had a sharp double-edge. Ares would protect Alena to the end if he had to and if he did, Hera could only hope that it would be for the right reasons and not because she was a Dark Fae here only to use Ares for her own entertainment. “Rest, I’ll be back tomorrow.” Hera rose from the bed and made her way to the door.
“I won’t hurt him, Great Mother. I will never bring harm to your Son.”
“Not intentionally, I’m sure.”
II
Before Hera took her leave of the Fortress, she stopped in Ares’ woodshop to have a long chat with her Son. More than anything in the world, Hera wanted to welcome her Grandson—and his mother—with open arms and an open heart, even if it came at the expense of her marriage. More than anything in the world, Hera did not want to see her favorite Son betrayed by a viscous she-wolf in sheep’s clothing.
“If it’s true, Ares…and I’m not saying it is, but if it’s true…” Hera’s voice trailed off, unable to bring herself to finish the sentence.
As Ares ran the plane over the top of the cradle he was making, he thought about Alena’s vision last night, Zeus’s words and how the Old Man was really playing all of the best angles. “Do you think she’ll like it?” he asked, momentarily ignoring his Mother’s words as he stepped back to admire his work. Over the last few weeks, stealing a moment here and a moment there, Ares painstakingly carved his Son a cradle from a single piece of Cypress, which he chopped down on the island. From bonnet to rockers, there were no seams, no nails and no joints. Today he would finish the planing and sanding while Hera chatted with Alena. Tomorrow he would seal the wood with layers of oil and present it to her.
There was no woodshop on his island home; if he got bored enough there, he might take up a knife and a good-sized branch and whittle something. Like his passion for War, his passion for working with the wood of the earth and of his forests had dwindled greatly before Alena came along.
“You always were good with wood.” Allowing Ares to lead her away from the subject at hand, Hera gazed from the lovingly made cradle to her Son, her peacock eyes gleaming with pride. Ever since he was little, he loved to work with wood, to carve things, little statues and such. It seemed to her there was something about wood that calmed him, gave him focus, helped him think before he went off
and did something foolish. When he got older he took to fashioning his own spears and then moved on to pieces of furniture. “It’s beautiful, and when you tell her that you made it she’ll love it even more.” With curiosity glittering in her eyes, happy to be taken away from the thoughts that kept her awake all night even if it was just a moment’s respite, Hera looked past her Son to something hidden under a sheet. “Is that ready yet? May I see it?”
Ares looked back and thought about it for a moment. “It’s done, but I want Alena to be the first to lay eyes on it.”
Hera smiled as she reached out to touch Ares’ arm. “Yes, that would be best. You love her so much, Ares; I never dreamed such a thing would happen for you although I hoped for it with all my heart.” Laying her free hand on his bearded cheek, she smiled wider but the smile faltered and everything about her seemed to deflate as the uncertainty came flooding back to her. “This is why I’m so worried, about you, and her, and my Grandson. She doesn’t look very well today; she looks as though she hasn’t slept in a week.” She tried to sound a little more cheerful. “Although her appetite is supreme.”
Putting down the metal plane and swiping a thick forearm across his sweaty brow, Ares gazed down at his Mother. “I know,” he moaned. When he woke from the little sleep he got, he looked over at Alena and she looked terrible. There were dark circles under her eyes and deepening lines around her mouth. It wasn’t bad enough that Alena struggled with the pregnancy but then, “It’s all Zeus’ fault. Where was my Father last night?”
“In the Palace,” she said easily, “why?”
“I don’t suppose he was with you?”
“In my bed? I don’t think so,” Hera scoffed. “Is this about Alena’s dream?”
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