Fireside

Ares

Disclaimer

While there are no depictions of active violence within this story, they are certainly referenced throughout the text in both narrative and dialogue form. The first half of this story also contains graphic descriptions of body organs and human waste. Both themes can potentially trigger anxiety and trauma, so please proceed with caution. Discontinue reading if you must. Always put health and well-being first.

Ares

The body had been brutally wounded.

Specifically, there was a rather large hole just above the right hip, close to the navel but not quite reaching that depressed portion of skin. And from this hole spilled guts of pink and red and black, and foul things made fouler after having been admixed with blood. An appendix wiggled beneath that length of entrails.

Muscles torn and tattered surrounded all that, draping in long strands. Fresher drops of blood trickled from these, like water falling off of newly washed laundry. They pattered onto the carpet, staining it in the shape of little red stars. This constant dribbling was occasionally punctuated by a dollop of green and brown, which formed rank blobs instead. They were not as repulsive as the gaping wound itself though.

Ares looked at the mangled horror that was his torso, and he grinned.

"Beautiful, is it not?" The god of war and violence sorted through the coils of intestines, pulling out more and more, interested to see just how long it would be. "The human body is indeed a marvel. Prometheus did an excellent job."

"Are you quite done staining my carpet yet?"

"This was done by Father himself, you know." Ares prodded at a kidney that had tumbled out, intrigued by its odd seed-like shape. "He turned my own doru on me, and without any hesitation whatsoever."

"Considering that you betrayed him for no sensible reason, you should have expected something like it to happen."

"Considering that my sole purpose for even being conceived was so I could fight his wars, he should have expected such a betrayal." Ares dropped his innards, and they sluiced and slithered on the floor, painting it red and brown. At long last he gave his aunt a respectful bow, or as respectful a bow as he could manage with his demolished human shell. He peered at his aunt, gauging if she knew this truth behind his conception and birth as well.

Hestia neither gaped no blinked upon hearing the news, and it confirmed his ill suspicion. It was true. And everybody else had known, but chosen to keep it a secret from him. He hadn't been conceived from love, or even lust or a mad fit of passion between his parents. Zeus had been desperate to sire a warrior, a hand to smite those who threatened to wrest his crown, and Hera had been obligated to comply.

Ares' grin grew wider. Then he snickered. Then he burst into outright laughter—harsh, bitter laughter. "Cruel! Such a cruel goddess you are, Aunt Hessy! I love it! Not even the akontistai and their sharp javelins have pierced my heart or hurt me as deeply as you holding your silence."

The hearth goddess merely shook her head as she rooted for a rag among her things. This she dipped into a bowl of water and rung out. She sent another unfazed look in her nephew's direction before starting on the mess that the war god had created.

"Do you want a new body or not?" she asked while she scrubbed away at the rapidly drying blood and excrement on her floor. "Speak quickly, for it is difficult to get a hold of Prometheus, even through the connection of my hearth and his fire."

"Much as I liked this one, I don't think I would mind a completely different shell this time around," Ares said, recalling how easy it had been for his father to spot him despite the chaos of battle, their impermanent physical features being almost the same. Although, it might have been his deranged war-cry and the wild, deceptively careless manner in which he'd thrust his doru around that had given him away. It didn't help that Kydoimos was always closely following his heels, as were several of his black hounds. "Maybe something more exotic, like ebony ringlets of hair instead of straw, and eyes of crimson instead of gold?"