The War God's Woman

40. Hestia's Hearth

"Nephew." Hades' voice was raspy and a forked tongue of blue flame flashed briefly from between his pointed teeth.

"I want to be alone." Ares growled, not looking up at the god of death. Ares was sat beneath an ancient tree, his back warmed against the bark. In his dark mood, he'd felt a strange affinity with the dying tree spirits of the doomed woodland.

"What we want – is unimportant." There was a harsh edge to Hades' voice but Ares ignored him. "I wouldn't have come looking for you, for no reason." Hades hissed. 

A wind rustled through the trees, causing leaves to brush against the hem of Hades' cloak. Once a curling leaf touched the dark material, it seemed to drain completely of life. Ares watched the leaves shrivel to withered husks before disintegrating to dust.

"What's upset you, uncle?"

"There's trouble on Olympus."

Ares snorted.

"That's no longer my concern."

"Ares," Hades snarled angrily – cold blue flame flashing dangerously in his eyes. "Hestia's hearth is burning bright. It's a beacon – requesting aide."

Ares frowned. Hestia had been Zeus and Hades' elder sister. The legendary goddess of fire. The stories told about her barely scratched the surface of her life and legacy. She'd died a long time ago, but her spirit could be found in a fire's warmth. If the beacon of Olympus was lit, then Hestia's spirit was trying to send them a warning.

"Have you gone to look?"

"I tried. The gates are sealed shut. But if we combine your power with mine, we might be able to breach them. Come, nephew."

But Ares' didn't stand. "War god?!" Hades snarled angrily.

"I don't serve you, yet." Ares reminded him. Hades' expression was livid.

"Olympus needs you!"

But Ares shook his head.

"Olympus made it's choice."

Almost a year ago...

The Exile of Ares:

           "Father," Ares looked up to where his father, the king of the gods, was sat on a dais. Judging him. But Zeus wouldn't look him in the eye.

"You've disappointed me, Ares." He murmured. Ares' eyes blazed.

"No, father. You've disappointed me."

It was his trial and Ares was being judged by his fellow eleven Olympians. And, looking around, Ares realised that none of them were going to speak up for him. Ares' gaze lingered on Aphrodite. The woman he'd loved for thousands of years. Ice seemed to leech into his blood.

"Ares, you must pay for your crime." The King of the Gods intoned. Ares' temper snapped.

"Why? When you've never paid for yours!"

The court was in shock and Zeus' face clouded over with anger. A lightening bolt shot from Zeus' fist. Ares reacted quickly. His sword materialised in his grip and the bolt deflected off the blade. Ares' heart thudded. His father had very nearly killed him. Zeus' expression was one of regret.