Miffed to hear such important and long-awaited news come from Hunter instead of from Raven, Apollo chimed in, “Yes, what else did she say? The little half-wit.”
Hunter shrugged his shoulders and began to spin around in a circle with his arms out to the sides and his head tilted back, “Yeah, well, that, ‘n Raven din’t push her down the stairs.”
“He didn’t?” Athena spoke up. All of them had been certain Raven pushed his Mother that night. The Goddess of Wisdom wondered if the protective mother in Alena lied, covered for her Son, probably to soothe his Father’s mind. “Then how did she fall?”
“Dunno,” Hunter wrinkled his nose, “she din’t say but sumthin’ happened sumthin’…weird. Like she made him see sumthin’ in his head.”
“That settles it,” Zeus announced, “I want that wicked witch off my mountain.”
Morpheus stepped in again, “Where will you send her?”
“Are you deaf as well as transparent? I said off my mountain.”
“Husband, you can’t be serious,” Hera said lightly, “Ares will never allow that and if Alena is at least trying to wake and come back to him we should encourage it.” She paused taking in the evil eye Zeus was giving her then she placed her hands on his old arm and leaned in a little closer, “If nothing else, she does keep him on an even keel.”
“She’s a filthy Fae sent here to destroy us,” Zeus scowled, “I want her gone.”
Athena spoke up again. “No one has answered me; if Raven didn’t push his Mother then how did Alena fall?” Her wise eyes took in each in turn and then they looked at each other with grave suspicion.
“Not me,” Aphrodite protested immediately, “You can ask Ares since I was fucking him when she took her tumble.”
“That’s how I got here,” Hunter smirked and pointed to himself with his thumbs.
The music stopped and a bell tolled out catching the attention of the Olympians letting them know the night had begun.
In the grand entranceway to the grand hall, the Guest of Honor appeared accompanied by his Father and little Rose perched in the crook of Ares’ arm. Every tongue in the room fell silent as the weight of their collective stare fell upon Raven boldly standing between the heavy marble doors barefoot, bare chested, in his favorite pair of well-fitting faded Levis. There was only one tiny thing wrong with the otherwise perfect picture; Raven’s split lower lip. That didn’t prevent from those in attendance from erupting in the obligatory round of applause for the boy who was about to become a man.
Raven stood there soaking it up for all it was worth as he kept one corner of one eye affixed to his Grandfather’s sour puss and found it invigorating. It wasn’t often the Olympians showed him any overt approval but he intended for that to change in the very near future. Strolling confidently into the room a very naked and very appealing Clio, Muse of History, came up to him to offer him a chalice of the Wine of Dionysus. Raven reached out to run his fingertips over the sensitive skin between her bare ample breasts, the Muse blushed; she turned her eyes away but glanced back at him from the corner. Raven smirked, licked his full lips, and plucked the chalice from the tray to lift it in the air.
Those around him did the same and waited.
Without touching Clio, Ares took the second chalice from the tray and turned to his Son to follow the Traditions set down long before he was born. Even though he was still fuming, Ares knew it was best to keep presenting a strong and united Family front to his austere relatives. Although tomorrow he might kill Raven himself, tonight he would put on one hell of a show for them. “Gia Raven,” Ares proclaimed.
Those around him echoed with their golden cups high, “Gia Raven.”
“Gia ti̱n zo̱í̱ kai ti̱n níki̱! Apópse eíste énas ánthro̱pos. Áv̱rio éna ví̱ma pio kontá se éna apó emás.” (To Life and Victory! Tonight you are a man. Tomorrow one step closer to being one of us.) “Gia Raven!”
Again the sentiment was echoed, this time it was followed by a long drink from their cups. The formality of Raven’s introduction over, Hera called the boy over to join her and settled an arm around his taut bare waist as she pulled him into conversation.
“They’re gonna eat you alive tonight, boy,” Ares crooned to himself and put the chalice on the table still half-full of Bacchus’ special libation. Rose wiggled in his arm and then pitched forward, reaching for the bowl of black olives. The move was so quick and unexpected Ares almost lost her but he recovered and brought the bowl to her only to watch her pop them into her mouth, one after the other, as though tomorrow there would be no more. “Hungry?”
Rose nodded and olive juice squirted between her sloped lips onto the bib of her pretty new pink toga with its embroidered red rose. “Uh-Oh.”
Suddenly Ares smiled, reminded of a night long ago when he found Alena running from Cerberus. It was only her first day on the island; she’d been wearing one of his shirts to cover her lovely body from his sight. She stumbled upon a grove of walnuts and olives when he found her near dark, the white tunic was covered with their remains, she looked up at him and apologized for ruining his shirt. “Not a problem,” he said softly as he pulled out a chair at the table to settle her in while he piled a plate with fruits and nuts. “Eat all you want, little one.”
Getting up on her knees to be more even with the table, Rose started digging in even as she looked up at the hundreds of candles floating in the air. “Oooooo,” she remarked and pointed up.
Amazingly enough, other than the voracious appetite, Rose showed no signs of wear or even of remembering having spoken so clearly for her Mother earlier in the day. “Pretty, huh? You stay here; I have to go to talk to your relatives. Stay here, got it?”
Rose nodded and popped a sugar-covered date into her mouth, her eyes squenched shut, and her little fists came up to either side of her body as she rocked back and forth with delight, smacking her lips.
Standing in a far corner of the room, Morpheus observed the scene and understood why Alena didn’t tell Ares she was being held captive in the Dream World. Why didn’t just tell him to come in and rescue her. Little Rose, of course. Alena knew Morpheus held power over the Olympians’ dreams and, if he chose, he could simply drive Ares mad—and he had been pushing the God of War in that direction until Ares finally decided to move out of the bedroom. If Ares was crazy or if he came to the Dream World and lost the battle, who would watch out for her precious little Rose? It was nice to know he still had something hanging over her, perhaps he wouldn’t have to kill her when he returned home in the morning.
Ares wandered over to Onya, who was on her second chalice of wine and who seemed to be keeping a keen eye on Eros. “Don’t you look beautiful tonight,” he complimented genuinely as he took in the sight of her with her auburn tresses piled high on her head baring the long gentle curve of her neck to anyone who cared for a taste. She wore a gown he’d never seen before, a well-fitting strapless black velvet bodice that hugged her frame from under her breasts down her still lithe body to the race of her hips and thighs. From there it fell away to a tailored black silk skirt slit straight up the middle from floor to thigh. The dress was beautiful, elegant, and provided easy access. “A gift from my Son?”
“Yes.” Onya raised the chalice to take another drink wishing it was filled with something stronger than wine.
“Did you tell him?”
“About Lady Alena? No. I didn’t even tell the other women, I knew you wouldn’t like that.” She stuttered, faltered, recovered and then went on, “Hunter just told all of them. I’m sorry.”
“Did he?” Ares studied her closely as he watched her bring the chalice to her lips again and decided she was telling the truth. Even though she slept with Eros, Onya was still loyal to him. Ares also knew he wouldn’t be able to keep Hunter quiet, that the boy would bound home with the news to his Mother, who would tell everyone else. Yet, Hunter beat her to the punch. Ares found a bit of pride in him for the boy. Aphrodite must have been fuming when Hunter stole her thu
nder. “Don’t drink that,” he whispered in Onya’s ear as he took it from her hand. “It’s laced with enough Yohimbe to keep a Mortal woman horny for the next month.”
“With—what?”
“Just consider it the Mortal equivalent of Ecstasy, very very potent Ecstasy.”
“Oh,” Onya frowned and then sighed as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Is it all…?” She looked back at the table where Rose was eating.
“Yes,” Ares told her flatly, “almost all of the food is considered an aphrodisiac. The whole evening designed to get your juices flowing for the long… strenuous night ahead. That is what tonight is all about after all or weren’t you aware?”
“Raven made it abundantly clear what tonight is about.” Onya stood by Ares’ side wishing for a good stiff shot of Scotch. Onya didn’t have any intention of attending tonight, she hadn’t lied to Raven but later in the day, Eros came by the Fortress to see her. He seemed excited about tonight and she couldn’t stand the thought of her lover lying with another not even for one night on an occasion such as this. Onya asked if she could join Eros tonight in the hope that, if she were here with him, he wouldn’t go dipping into other pools. She hadn’t stopped to think about the other side of the coin and hadn’t expected the Olympian males to look upon her with such open lust. She wasn’t sure what she would find when she came here tonight but she didn’t expect to walk into a luxurious Den of Inequity complete with sex swings and harnesses hanging from the ceiling in full view.
“That’s all right with you?” He turned his head to look down at her. “You?” Deception was in her eyes before it touched her lips. “Don’t lie to me, I know you too well. You don’t belong here.”
“No, I’m just a Mortal—”
“That’s not what I meant,” Ares shot quietly. “There are plenty of Mortal women who would revel when they descended on her like flies on a pile of fresh shit, devouring every inch of her that they can find with great abandon. However, like my Wife, you’re not one of them. You shouldn’t have come; this is no place for you tonight. So why are you here?” Onya’s confused emerald eyes dropped from Ares’ to look past him and Ares’ gaze followed to Eros across the room engaging Clio in deep conversation. “If you’re here to keep an eye on Eros or hoping to stop him, it’s in vain. He’s an Olympian, Onya, it’s in his ichor. He will dive into every hole he can tonight right in front of you with zeal. Then he’ll expect to watch you lay down for every swinging dick in here. These things you can’t change, no one can, all you can do is accept it for what it is if you’re able.” Ares walked away from her and toward Eros to get his side of the story. “What are you thinking bringing fresh meat to the wolves?”
“It wasn’t my idea, she asked if she could attend,” Eros said easily as he looked past his Father to Onya who’d moved to be near Rose and watch over her. “This is her home, she does live among us, and she’s an adult. It’s not as if she’s inexperienced, she’s been in both our beds. I thought she was ready for this.”
“You thought wrong,” Ares sneered, “I never thought that I would be saying this to you but, if you’re not careful you’re going to fuck this up with her. And you’ve got a good thing going, boy; you really shouldn’t let it slip away so easily.” He sauntered away shaking his head. As he expected, Ares found his Son sitting on the miniature throne brought out just for him tonight. Raven’s long legs lounged over one arm rest as he rested in the chair; chalice in one hand, fistful of grapes in the other, and the Three Graces sitting at his feet, their soft expert hands gliding all along his lower body. Aphrodite behind him, running her hands through his long hair while Raven ate it up.
“I never thought my noble lines would come to this. That I should watch some feral half-breed sit in that chair and be lauded.”
Ares turned around to see Zeus behind him watching Raven lap up the attention the women lavished on him. “I seem to remember Hercules sitting in that chair once. There was a feral half-breed, yours if I remember correctly. So just live with it, Father.”
“Perhaps I won’t have to live with it for much longer,” Zeus returned with a tinge of hopeful sarcasm. “I’m sure Hades’ Trial will be no picnic for Raven.” Tonight Zeus wanted to discuss another subject. “So is it true? Did that Dark Fae whore of yours speak through the little vlákas?”
“I’m getting tired of people calling Rose by anything other than her name.” He glanced back at the little girl whom Onya was helping down from the table to join the party. His eyes followed as Onya escorted Rose to the middle of the party where the little girl’s relatives were gathered.
Most of the Olympians gave Rose a cursory glance and a quick ‘hello’ but it was obvious they didn’t want anything to do with her, she embarrassed them because she wasn’t perfect and beautiful, reminding them that they weren’t so damn perfect or beautiful either, no matter their outward appearances. Holding Onya’s hand Rose toddled around the room trying to show her pretty toga and the new shoe her Father made so she could walk properly and be more like them. Rose walked up to them hesitantly, waited quietly for her elders to acknowledge her, and when they didn’t she gently tugged on the hem of a robe or toga. They looked down on her as Rose softly forced them to recognize her imperfect presence, however, once past the point of civility, the Olympians openly ignored Rose. They turned their backs on the little girl and walked away from her leaving her crestfallen behind them.
Hunter ran around the room displaying little to no self-control as he interrupted conversations, ran between people’s legs, and shoved handfuls of food down his gullet. All of the Olympians paid him much attention even though he wasn’t half as well-mannered as Rose. No one corrected Hunter’s behavior or even told him to slow down. Instead, they told Hunter how good, how strong, and how handsome he was while his Sister went without as much as a hug. Hunter was a sharp knife, he knew what was happening, and he taunted her with it. Running here and there to everyone and keeping an eye on Rose’s face as the same people who passed her by stooped to talk to him. Ares felt the pull at his heart as the excited smile on Rose’s face began fading as she realized that her relatives, those who were supposed to love and care for her, didn’t want her around. That was until Hera held her arms out for the little girl and then settled her on her hip to rock back and forth, even as she talked with Poseidon. Hera hugged Rose, kissed the girl’s cheek, and told her how pretty she looked tonight. Ares’ heart lightened a little but he couldn’t wait to get her out of here, back home, safe in the Fortress and her bed for the night far away from those would look down on her.
“I asked you a question; is it true?” Zeus demanded but Ares only stood there in silent defiance. “It is. And I am right. What more proof do you want that Alena’s really from the Dark Kingdom? If that isn’t Dark Fae Magick then I don’t know what is.”
“I don’t give a damn where my Wife came from.”
“Maybe you should start. I want that bitch off my mountain. She’s no longer welcome here.”
For the second time today, he had to remind someone of something. “That bitch is my Wife. She’s not going anywhere, Father. She’s staying with me in my rightful home. If you don’t like it, you leave.”
“God of War, God of Stupidity is more like it,” Zeus spat. “Mark my words Ares, she will be the downfall of Olympus.” The God of Gods walked away in disgust.
Seeing his opening, Morpheus floated over to his Cousin standing by the fire and glowering at Raven who had Aphrodite lounging in his young lap. “Looks like he’s ready for the night.”
With his back to Morpheus, Ares’ head slowly turned slightly on his shoulders as his dark eyes rolled in his Cousin’s direction and Ares sniffed the air. “Who let you in here?”
“Still the same Ares, how nice,” Morpheus sneered and took a long drink of Nectar from the ornate chalice. “I have every right to be here. I am an Olympian too.”
Ares snorted and then chuckled. “A fringe relative at best,” he sco
ffed as he turned around, cocked his head to the side and gave a sly smile. “What good are you tonight anyway? I doubt any of them will be sleeping and you….” Ares reached out and thrust his hand through Morpheus’ rib cage until it came out his back between his black wings. Wiggling his long fingers gingerly, he peered over Morpheus’ slender shoulder to see his hand passed all the way through the God of Dreams then he yanked it out roughly. Morpheus didn’t even flinch. “What’s the deal?” His eyes dropped down to Morpheus’ crotch covered by a black loincloth. “Certainly you can’t rise to the occasion, not here, and even if you could there’s nothing of any substance so you still can’t pull it off, so what’s the deal?”
Morpheus shook his head and frowned. “The last time we had one of these was, well, so long ago I can hardly remember. Why should I be left out of the festivities? For that matter, why shouldn’t I give Raven a Trial of my own?”
“Because you’re not one of us,” Ares hissed hotly. “You don’t belong here. Freak.”
“Oh now, how rude, I’m hurt and here I came to offer you my help with your lovely Wife,” he said in a low chiding tone, “but seeing as how I am unwelcome…”
“Help? What can you do?”
“Well, I don’t know, but maybe something. If you let me see her.”
“What do you need my permission for? You can see her anytime you want.”
Morpheus was taken aback. “Excuse me?”
“You, you freak, you can go through walls, mountains, and minds. You sneak in like a thief in the night sprinkling that crap all over us and no one can stop you.” Ares glanced around at the gathered Olympians who were drinking, eating, laughing, and keep one eye on Morpheus at all times. “You know that’s why they spurn you.”
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