Chapter 179: “Easy. I jest. Mostly.”
The great doors of the throne hall groaned as they swung open.
Ares strode out, fire still clinging faintly to his armor, each step striking hard against the marble. His face was carved in stone, no trace of his usual mocking grin. Only a deep frown. His hand gripped his spear so tightly the bronze creaked. The air around him shimmered faintly, heat rising from his fury like smoke from smoldering embers.
The courtyard outside the palace was alive with the quiet hum of Olympus. Statues lined the way, rivers of light cutting through the marble floors. The stars above shimmered clearer than any mortal sky. Yet the god of war saw none of it.
He was still hearing Zeus’s voice.
Apologize. Hold back. Call him brother.
The words twisted inside him like barbs.
–––
He was halfway across the courtyard when two figures appeared ahead.
Hermes dropped from a pillar with the ease of a shadow, winged sandals barely whispering against the stone. His youthful face carried its usual mischief, though his eyes flicked quickly over Ares’s clenched jaw. He whistled low. "Well, well. The god of war looks like he lost a battle. That’s rare."
From the colonnade to the left came Apollo, golden hair catching the starlight, a lyre slung casually across his back. His glow was softer, calm, but his brow furrowed as he caught Ares’s expression. "You’ve just come from Father."
Ares did not stop walking. His frown deepened.
Hermes darted alongside him, steps light and quick. "What did he do? Bind you in chains? Strip you of your spear? No—wait—don’t tell me. He told you to... behave?"
Ares’s grip tightened on the weapon. The bronze groaned louder this time. "Stay out of it, messenger."
But Hermes only grinned wider. "So I’m right."
Apollo stepped into Ares’s path, not with arrogance, but with calm steadiness. His eyes, golden as the sun, met the fire burning in his brother’s. "What did he command?"
Ares stopped. For a moment, silence weighed on the courtyard. The storm above Olympus flickered faintly, as if Zeus himself still listened.
Finally, Ares spoke, his voice low, guttural. "He told me not to kill the Spartan."
Hermes blinked, then laughed sharply. "Not kill him? The mortal who screams your name like a curse? The one dragging your chains through Athens? That one?"
Ares’s jaw clenched. His eyes flared with red heat. "He called him my brother."
The words hit harder than any weapon. Hermes’s grin faltered for the first time. Apollo’s eyes widened, though his face remained calm.
Hermes tilted his head, uncertain if it was jest. "Brother? Father said that?"
Ares spat, his voice breaking sharp through the courtyard. "Yes. He said the dog was of his blood. That I must fight him not as an enemy, but as kin. That I must... apologize."
The last word was bitter, ripped from his throat like poison.
Hermes let out a long whistle, dragging his hand through his curls. "Now that... is something. Imagine it—the mighty god of war, saying ’sorry’ to a mortal with ash on his skin. I’d pay to see it."
Ares turned on him, fire flaring at his shoulders, spear raised a fraction. "Laugh again, little bird, and you’ll be picking your teeth off the marble."
Hermes lifted his hands quickly, though his smirk lingered faintly. "Easy. I jest. Mostly."
Apollo’s gaze stayed steady, calm but piercing. "If Father spoke so, then it is truth. He does not throw words lightly. If Kratos is of his blood, then he is ours."
Ares’s laugh was sharp, humorless. "Ours? Do not fool yourself, golden one. That mortal is nothing but rage given flesh. He slaughters without thought. He blames me for the chains he begged for. And now Father would raise him up beside us? I should cut him down before he reaches Olympus."
Apollo did not flinch. "And yet you won’t. Because Father commanded otherwise."
The silence stretched. Ares’s fire hissed low, his glare fixed on Apollo. For a heartbeat, it seemed he might strike. But then he turned, grinding his teeth, and strode past them.
Hermes fell back into step at his side, curiosity burning. "So what will you do, then? When the Spartan comes roaring for you with those pretty blades? Will you send a clone, like Father said? Bow your head and say, ’Forgive me, brother’? Or will you—"
Ares’s spear butt slammed against the marble with a crack, sparks flying. Hermes skipped back with a laugh, though his eyes glinted sharper now.
"I will give him his war," Ares growled. His eyes glowed red in the torchlight. "But not as Father thinks. If the Spartan wants to face me, then he will face fire. Clone or not, I will not make it easy for him."
Apollo watched from behind, his golden gaze heavy with thought. "Careful, Ares. Defying Father’s will is not the same as defying mortals. His storm is patient, but it remembers."
Ares stopped at the edge of the courtyard, the vast sky of Olympus stretching beyond. He did not turn, but his voice carried back, rough and defiant. "Then let him remember. I am war. I do not bend."
He vanished in a crackle of flame, leaving the marble scorched where he had stood.
–––
Hermes exhaled, shaking his head. "That one will burn Olympus down if we let him."
Apollo’s eyes stayed fixed on the blackened stone, his tone quiet but steady. "Or perhaps not Olympus. Perhaps only himself."
The wind stirred faintly through the courtyard, carrying the hum of Zeus’s storm from the throne room above. Both gods stood in silence, the weight of their father’s command heavy between them.
Hermes broke it first, his smirk faint but uneasy. "So. The Spartan is our brother. Who would have thought? I wonder how long before the rest of Olympus knows."
Apollo turned away, his gaze rising toward the stars. "They will know soon enough. The storm will not stay quiet forever."
–––
Far below Olympus, Kratos’s chains rattled as he walked through the ruins he had made, his breath sharp, his eyes burning. The name of Ares still echoed on his lips.
And above, in the halls of the gods, the pieces of fate were shifting, one by one, toward a storm none of them could escape.