Chapter Text
Young and fresh to the world as he was, Ares could see the unfairness that clouded each corner of it.
It was his domain, the strife and violence present in everything.
The fates had decided it long ago, and even if it was what he was born to do, he still tried to see the good in those he loved.
Even if those he called precious to him saw him as nothing but the same monster he tried to keep them from.
The same monsters calling from the bottom of Olympus, demanding the attentions and affections of his mother and sister.
Ares could hear them no matter where he went, doing his best to ignore them as the others were, he could not imagine how awful it must have been for the two women being called out.
He could see the tenseness in his mothers shoulders, the way her hands would grip tightly to whatever she was holding as the Giants called out, as if they could reach up and snatch her off the mountain; and that the pole or bench could save her from being wisked away.
Ares saw the way Hera's eyes darkened each time the mountain shook with the attempts the Giants made to scale Olympus.
He could see the way his sister hid, the way Artemis squirreled away with her twin, the sun blocking the moon from view, away from the eyes of the lecherous giants.
The way rage trembled in her shoulders as the ground did, each stomp of the giants feet rocking their home and threatening to destroy it.
Ares could understand the hesitance to deal with the problem, he had caught a glimpse of the giants himself one day and understood that they were stronger than anything he'd dealt with before in his short life, but the complacency with everything that was happening was what made him angry.
No one was doing anything to stop the giants from continuing to pester and harrass Hera and Artemis.
While he knew they were both safe on Olympus, the giants were becoming bolder, attempting to climb and find their way inside.
Ares had asked Athena once, if their father was consulting her on a plan, after all Athena was grown and had a few hundred years on Ares in their shared domain; but she simply gave her younger brother a withering look and some quip about him probably finding the strategies too complex to comprehend.
Decidedly, Ares took that as they hadn't any plans to deal with the giants, and Zeus would seem to contently allow them to continue what they were doing.
It was infuriating, Ares had never felt so powerless in his short life, watching things unfold he could do nothing about.
Until an idea came to him one day.
He was a god of war after all, the one who would raise the battle field and soak the ground in the blood of enemies.
The one who would witness more death comparative to Hades himself.
Ares was a warrior, and he intended to put that to good use.
If no one else would take a stand against the giants, then Ares would start the charge.
Perhaps seeing his brave assault, the others would join to put a stop to the giants and end this entire debacle.
Ares stood in his room, finalizing the gear he had to bring with him.
It wasnt much, he was still a child, and his size matched those of the mortal children he saw running around on the occasion he left Olympus with his mother.
He knew he would grow, his mind was already leagues smarter than the children his body mirrored, but gods born naturally aged slowly.
He would start to grow more quickly once he was able to make a name for himself and cement his domain properly, to get mortals prayers to fuel his powers.
But for now, he still had the softness of youth, even as he tried to cover it and look like a proper warrior.
His deep red chiton was covered by a small brestplate, one he'd scavenged when visiting a war site with Athena once, it was tiny but still perfect.
Ares wasnt sure if that was a good sign or not, but he had not seen any other children around so perhaps its previous owner had simply left it.
Intricate patterns wove along the front of it, patterns Ares didnt know what to make of.
He didnt have a proper set of armor for himself yet, but his mother had promised him once he was grown and able, the forge god himself would construct Ares an armor that would protect him in all battles.
His sword was settled at his hip, also smaller than most but one that fit him quite well.
It was sharp, and strong, Ares was careful not to break the blade, but trained with it every moment that he could.
He prided himself on his strength and speed, only outmatched in speed by Hermes himself, though often Ares found himself challenging the messenger to races to see who was faster.
Ares was yet to win, but he felt he was getting faster each time.
He tied his hair up, long slightly curled white locks into a bun at the top of his head.
Hera had always lamented that hed gotten his fathers hair, albeit not as cloud like as the god king himself, but in hue.
Ares had to admit, despite the array of colours his siblings hair sported, he had always wondered why his matched one parent so closely.
Tying the bun off with a long red ribbon that trailed down nearly to his feet, Ares felt prepared.
Surely, if he could stand up to the giants, the others would follow.
Athena would come up with some other strategy, perhaps Artemis and Apollo could let loose their arrows, or other trickery to help.
Surely, surely they could put an end to these monsters.
They wouldn't be complacent with the way they were acting any more.
Leaving his home, Ares made his way towards the edge of Olympus, ready to make his way down to confront the Giants.
He could hear them even clearer, bow closer than he ever had been before.
He gripped the hilt of his sword, looking down the path he would he charging to get closer to the giants, seeing them at the bottom.
It was hard not too, they were nine fathoms tall after all, large Giants that awaited their opportunity to strike.
But Ares would strike first, and strike hard.
"Hey lil boss, what'cha up too?"
Ares nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden voice that pipped up from behind him, the laughter that followed did not sooth his fiery embarrassment.
He turned, glaring up at Hermes, who was floating slightly above him.
Not that the younger needed too, Hermes was already quite a bit taller than Ares, which infuriated the war god to no end.
Hermes was his little brother, and yet was already taller than him!
It was just not fair.
"Im going to stop those giants. One way or another..."
Ares declared, setting his hands on his hip as Hermes whistled at the idea, turning in the air to angle himself closer to Ares.
"Woah! Really? I mean, kinda a big task there Ares... Sure you can take those guys?"
Ares simply scoffed at Hermes' worry, shaking his head.
"Of course I can. Theyre big sure, but their attacks will be too slow to hit me. Besides, Ill be able to see it coming long before they could hit me... Ill wear them down, make them regret bothering us."
Hermes seemed to contemplate the idea, humming as he shrugged at Ares' determined words.
"Alright. Well, good luck I guess... Ill tell Apollo to get the infirmary ready, ok?"
Hermes laughed as he flew away, Ares just rolling his eyes at his little brothers antics.
He knew his plan would work, it had to work.
Taking another deep breath, Ares drew his sword.
Starting down the mountain, he kept his expression as brave as he could, he would face his enemies head on, he could see them coming and they would see him coming.
Standing a bit aways from them still, Area raised his sword and pointed it to the giants.
"Otus! Ephialtes! I am Ares, god of war, strife and bloodshed! Olympus has endured your harrassment for long enough! I am here to put an end to the two of you, and free my family from your torment!"
There was a pause, the two giants looking to the tiny god that stood in defiance before them.
It was almost admirable.
Almost.
The two giants began to laugh, nearly toppling over from the sheer force of their merriment.
Ares felt rage bubbling inside of him, ichor rushing past his ears as he listened to the obnoxious laughter.
"Brother! Brother! A little nymph has come to tell us to go home! How adorable!! Look at how little he is!!"
"This tiny creature? A god of war? How ridiculous! How adorable to think it a threat!"
Ares gripped his sword, and with a mighty battle cry charged forwards to the giants, slashing and stabbing at their ankles and legs.
The laughter continued, but seemed to slightly pause as Ares continued to hack away at them.
It was doing nothing, not a scratch truly appeared, but to the giants it was beginning to grow annoying.
Otus looked to his brother, who had a similar look on his face.
They both knew who Ares was, and what sort of leverage they could use with this little god.
As such, Ephialtes took a jar from the belt on his waist, and emptied it quickly.
The bronze jar had carried water for them, but this opportunity would lead to more fruitful endeavours, and water was easily obtained.
Otus leaned down, watching Ares dance between their legs waiting for just a moment, before snatching the war god up in his hand.
It was faster than Ares anticipated, crying out as he was grabbed and swinging wildly with his sword in an attempt to get the giant to let go.
Otus did let go, but it was only a second of celebration for Ares before he was free falling from the giants palm.
He flailed out with his hands, losing grip on his sword, trying to stop his fall to no avail.
It felt as if he was falling forever, but truly it was only a few seconds before the world around him disappeared, and was replaced with the insides of a bronze jar.
He landed quite heavily on his back, knocking the air from his lungs.
He coughed and wheezed to get it back, turning to his side as Otus and Ephialtes laughed above him.
The last sight he saw was their hideous faces, as the lid of the jar closed off Ares from the rest of the world, plunging him into darkness.
He could still hear them, laughing about capturing him, stumbling to his feet only to be tossed about as the jar moved quite violently.
Ares cried out as he hit against the sides of the jar, unable to keep himself steady.
He cursed and screamed and threatened, only to be met with more laughter and beckoning calls for his mother and sister.
In the moments where Ares was able to get his feet under him, he pounded furiously against the walls of the jar, screaming himself horse to be let free.
He didnt know how long he was in there for, a few days at the very least, likely longer, listening to the giants talk to eachother, or call out loudly for those on Olympus.
He overheard their plans to storm the mountain, to take what they believed to be theirs.
Ares felt so foolish, hearing their plans but being unable to do nothing but smash his fists against the walls of the jar.
During the times that the giants rested, Ares didnt know if it really was night or not, he attempted to use whatever he could to scale the walls of the jar and attempt to escape.
It was hard, he couldn't see anything in the darkness, but feeling the smooth walls of the jar was enough foe him to try.
But try as he might, getting to the lid was nigh impossible, and even more so would be actually opening it.
Ares was loathe to admit it, but he knew he was stuck.
These giants weren't going to let him free, and he couldn't exactly free himself, so he just needed to wait.
Eventually, someone would notice he was missing, and surely they would realize the giants had him.
After all, Hermes would likely brag about how foolish he was to charge the giants by himself, and then he would be rescued.
Its what Ares kept telling himself, it was only a matter of time, he could wait.
He would still pound on the walls of the jar, just to make sure the giants knew he was still there.
He was still there.
Time passed by quickly, or slowly, he wasnt sure anymore.
It all felt like a blur when all he could do was scream, smash the walls, and listen to the giants.
But all at once, suddenly, there was more noise than just the giants.
He could hear the shouts of the two giants, like usual, but another voice he could hear broke through them both.
Surging to his feet, Ares hit the side of the jar madly with his fists, screaming louder than he had the times before.
He could hear Artemis, what she was saying Ares had no clue, but if she was close enough that he could hear her, then she must be close enough to hear him.
Ares continued to scream and throw himself against the walls of the jar, calling for his sister's aid, desperate for her to hear him.
Then again, all at once, everything shifted.
Ares was swept off his feet as the jar moved violently, falling to the floor, rolling and stumbling as he was rocked around inside like a ragdoll.
He could hear the giants shouting angrily, screaming for Artemis to stay still.
Ares was equal parts elated and scared, was Artemis fighting the giants?
He tried to get his feet under him, tried to stay stable enough to, well, do anything.
It felt like he was on ice, unable to stop himself from falling.
He heard the giants suddenly scream, a painful gutting sound Ares recognized clear as day.
It was the sound of death, a dying wail before the end.
One he'd heard a fair number of times already, and one he would never forget.
Ares himself shouted as suddenly he pitched to the side, feeling his stomach drop as he tumbled backwards but felt himself falling... Upwards?
The noise of two giant bodies colliding with the earth registered in Ares' ears, and the realization of what was about to happen only had a second to appear in his mind before he felt his body crash into the top of the jar, and the pain that seared his whole body as if he were on fire had him cry out, and then there was nothing.
Ares found himself in a heap, his whole body screeching with pain, his head pounding and making him feel so dizzy.
Weakly managing to get his hands under him, Ares struggled to sit upright, and struggled even harder to take a breath as he began to weep.
He was in so much pain, and it was so dark he couldn't even see what was hurt to try and fix it.
He could feel the ichor running down his face alongside his tears, his cries echoing back at him as he tried in vain to calm himself.
Eventually his tears subsided, though his pain did not, and he strained to hear where Artemis had gone.
Surely she was looking for him right this moment, and soon he would draw her attention for his rescue.
Gathering all the strength he had left, Ares beat against the wall of the jar, calling for his sister, for anyone that could hear him.
His voice failed him soon enough, and Ares slumped back to the ground, trying to listen for anyone he could hear around him.
The giants were silent, no longer did they shout for Hera or Artemis.
But as well, the sound of whatever battle took place was also now silent.
Ares could hear nothing but the soft sounds of his labored breath.
But that was impossible, Ares thought, Artemis had come down to the giants, did she not defeat them?
Surely she had too, Ares could no longer hear their jeering.
He could no longer hear their snores.
He could no longer hear their plans to raid Olympus.
He could no longer hear anything.
Silence was somehow worse than the giants obnoxious words.
At least then Ares had some vague idea of time passing.
But now?
He only could tell time was continuing on because his wounds started to hurt less and less.
As his physical wounds healed, he could feel his mind starting to crack.
He still called out for his family, still threw himself against the jar to call attention.
He had long since realized he was stuck, the lid of the jar below his feet, and no matter how hard he tried to pry it away from the jar, it remained stuck.
He often simply sat in silence for what felt like years at a time, wondering if he would ever escape, if there was anything left to escape too, why no one had noticed he was missing, did they even care that he was missing?
He knew they didnt think highly of him, the way the fates had described his domain had left most of them wary about who he would become.
He didnt understand it, why they seemed so off put, he did his best to quell those types of worries.
He wasnt interested in bloodshed for the sake of outright killing.
There was no honor in the slaughter of innocents, or those who could not fight back.
Ares was destined to be the rage on the battlefield, the adrenaline and bloodlust of a warrior.
Not the senseless slaughter of anyone who dared breathe.
But it seemed to him that that is what most believed him to be, as he had more time to think; alone with his thoughts as he was.
He promised himself, slipping off into another cold dreamless sleep, that he would do his best to change their minds on that.
Another way he knew time was moving, was how weak he felt he was growing.
There was a point he felt he could barely lift himself from the sprawled way his body had slumped during his sleep.
All of his limbs felt so heavy, yet so weak at the same time.
His arms trembled under his own weight, even if he seemed to weigh nothing at all.
He could feel the air getting heavier, as if it was harder to pull in and out of his lungs.
It even felt as if his heart was slowing down, the only things he could now reasonably hear was the rasping of his own breath, and the slow beating of his heart.
At times, he didnt know if his eyes were opened, or closed, it was dark all the same; but it even seemed blinking was a chore.
As he tried to gather enough strength to knock against the side of the jar again, his mind flashed to another time he'd gone to a battle alongside Athena.
This time, it was to watch over what he would soon be in charge of.
The last dying breaths of a warrior who'd fought valiantly.
Ares remembered watching the mortal with curiosity, the way his chest labored in its breaths, how he still struggled to reach his weapon, to stand, to fight.
Ares had admired the man, admired his drive, his ambitions.
But laying there, feeling as if he were now that same man, knowing the end was creeping just around the corner; he was scared.
He felt nothing like the warrior he tried so hard to be.
Ares understood, in the moments he shared with that dying mortal, why the warrior struggled so hard to get back on his feet and continue the fight.
But here, locked away in this jar, he had no fight to continue.
He'd long since accepted the fact that either the giants were dead or had discarded his jar someplace forgotten.
There was no battle to be fought here, not anymore.
He was trapped and entirely helpless.
He didnt feel like the warriors he would one day inspire and lead, he felt weak, hopeless, and utterly terrified.
Why hadn't anyone come to find him?
Like his rasping breaths, the ugly thoughts came in and out, playing tricks on him.
He dreamt that they came to save him, he dreamt of Athena's teasing for getting caught so easily, he dreamt of the disappointment in the gazes of his mother and father, he dreamt that they all were waiting just outside for him to admit his defeat and foolishness, each time he awoke in the darkness he wished it were true.
Even if each outcome was terrible, he still just wanted them to be true so he could go home.
He would endure the withering looks and the lectures about his recklessness if only to just be home, he wasnt sure what to do but hope, he knew in times like these mortals would pray to gods for help, but Ares knew that wouldnt work for him.
He wondered, briefly, if there was something after this.
If one time he may wake up in his uncles domain.
If Hades would recognize him, or if he would be lumped in with the other souls.
He wondered if he could cross the Styx, if she would allow him passage without the proper compensation.
If his status as a god would persist enough that she would allow him Elysium.
He decided, after the lump in his throat grew too large to choke down, that he would not think about that any longer.
His thoughts persisted with his family, of what he wished to do when he got home.
But slowly, even those thoughts left his mind, and the heaviness bore down on him and took everything.
Then all at once, the world around him shifted, and the darkness rushed away.
Ares could feel that it hurt his eyes, but had no energy left to turn away.
The light was blocked again as a figure drew close, he could make out something , but the noise felt so garbled and sharp he didnt know what it was.
Finally, he was able to identify the figure crouched infront of him.
Hermes, his mind supplied, that was different than the usual dreams he had.
He thought it was nice though, how clear Hermes' face was.
Everyone else's had become so muddled, features blending together, he could hardly tell who he dreamt of saving him these days.
He still couldn't make out what his little brother was saying, but there was a crushing sadness to his features Ares wished he could comfort.
Even if it was just a dream, he still cared for his brother, and didnt think sadness suited Hermes features at all.
Ares hoped Hermes' face wouldn't become muddled anytime soon, and as the darkness crept back in he tried to focus on his brothers face, his own sadness and fear welling in his chest.
He wondered if Hermes was doing alright, if maybe the messenger somehow missed Ares.
Ares believed they had fun together, even if Ares could get a little hotheaded at Hermes antics.
He thought perhaps he would make an effort to show Hermes he did enjoy the time they spent together more, if he got home.
He sensed a sudden franticness to dream Hermes, and he felt bad for thinking so negatively.
The light was slipping away from him, he could see it just past dream Hermes' arm.
There was sand outside the jar, and in the distance the ocean.
It was pretty, a prettier view than Ares thought his mind could come up with.
He wondered which beach it was, which view his mind had come up with to taunt him with.
This was usually where his dreams ended, he could see the outside but never touch.
As the darkness crept into his vision, he was once again slightly crushed at the notion of once again waking up in the dark.
His eyes felt so heavy, heavier than anything he'd ever had to lift before.
So he let them slip closed, the familiar darkness embracing him with cold cruel arms.
He thought he heard Hermes calling his name, voice choked with terror and tears, but he felt unable to move at all let alone open his eyes once more to look.
Not that it mattered anyways, he knew he would awaken alone once more, and he would rather stop falling for the tricks his dreams would play.
He fell further into the darkness, echoes of his name following him down.