Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"The gods of Olympus have abandoned me.”

He steps to the final inches of the cliff, his sandals scraping gravel over the crumbling brink. A thousand feet below, dirty rags of cloud twist and braid a net of mist between him and the jagged rocks where the Aegean crashes upon them. 

A net? He shakes his head.

A net? Rather, a shroud.

He has done more than any mortal could. He has accomplished feats the gods themselves could not match. But nothing has erased his pain. The past he cannot flee brings him the agony and madness that are his only companions.

“Now there is no hope.”

No hope in this world—but in the next, within the bounds of the mighty Styx that marks the borders of Hades, runs the river Lethe. A draft of that dark water, it is said, erases the memory of the existence a shade has left behind, leaving the spirit to wander forever, without name, without home …

Without past.

This dream drives him forward in one final, fatal step, which topples him into clouds that shred around him as he falls. The sea-chewed rocks below materialize, gaining solidity along with size, racing upward to crush his life.

The impact swallows all he is, all he was, all he has done, and all that’s been done to him, in one shattering burst of night.

But even in this, he is doomed to disappointment.

He does not see the figure at his side in the Aegean’s dark waves; he does not feel the hands that lift him from the sea. He does not know that he is being carried far beyond anywhere mortals can ever go. When next his eyes open, he stands before a mighty gate of gold and pearl set in a rampart built of clouds. And with him stands a woman of supernal loveliness, clad in glittering armor and her dark caramel curls were tied in a bun sitting atop her head.

He has never seen her before. But he has known her for years, and she cannot be mistaken for any other. 

“Athena."

Her flawless face turns toward him, and the serene majesty of her gaze takes his breath away. “You will not die this day, my Spartan,” she says, and her voice is martial music of pipe and drums. “The gods cannot— I cannot —allow one who has performed such service to perish by his own hand.”

He can only stare, struck dumb both by bitter injustice and incomprehensible grace.

“There is more at work here than you may ever know.” She lifts a hand and the immense gate swings open before him, revealing stairs ascending into cloud. “But you have saved more than your own life today and worked a greater deed than taking your own revenge. Zeus has declared you worthy, and you will not deny him. There is now an empty throne in Olympus, my Kratos, and I have one last service to require of you. Take these stairs. They lead to that empty throne. To your throne.”

“I don’t understand …” Words fall thickly from his numb lips.

“It’s possible you never will. I will tell you only this: You should not die by your own hand and stain Olympus with your blood. And so you are here. With us. Forever. It is Zeus’s wish.”

Kratos mounts the long, long stair. Now he can see at the top a throne of glistening jet: deadly gleaming black, befitting the god he is to become.

With each step, the sights and sounds of battle rush in upon him, from all across the world and throughout all eternity, for time and place are different for the gods. He fears for an instant—or for a millennium—that his nightmares return to rape his mind, but he does not recognize the soldiers he sees. They wear metal armor and march in phalanx; cavalry and chariots support their swordsmen, pike men, and archers. “Cross the Rubicon,” a general bellows in a strange and foreign tongue, but Kratos understands.

At the next step, again he gasps. Curious armor here replaces the more-familiar design. Rushing past him are men with Asiatic eyes, shouting in a language he does not recognize, though again he understands—Sekigahara. “For the shogun!” The names spring up unbidden and mean nothing to him, but as foreign as their aspects and armor are, the carnage they wreak is all too familiar. Thousands lie dead on all sides, although he is still on the stairs to his throne.

At the next step he finds himself almost flinching, as a huge bird with stiff metal wings and a spinning wheel in front dives down on him. Sudetenland. Huge explosions rock him as the machine—not a bird but a flying machine, a Stuka, another unfamiliar word that he somehow understands—pulls out of a dive and roars away into the dirty gray sky. And just above, a brilliant glare has him squinting and shading his eyes, but he knows somehow that this light cannot harm him. Nothing can harm him. The light comes from a vast cloud curling upward from a burning city, burgeoning as it lifts into an astonishing shape, like a blazing white mushroom larger than Athens itself.

He looks in another direction, and there before him unfold wooded hills where the rivers run red with blood. Antietam? What language might this be? These people, these places, come to him with every step. Waterloo. Agincourt.

Khyber Pass. Gallipoli. Xilang-fu. Roncesvalles. Stalingrad and the Bulge and Normandy. The chaos of war rages around him, an endless looping chain of stunning victories and horrific defeats.

When he reaches the throne, he pauses for a moment and looks back down from whence he came. Spread before him is all of Greece, all the Mediterranean, Africa, Europe, Asia, and the strange lands on the far side of the world. Anywhere that battles rage—anywhere war will ever be fought—this is his kingdom. But among it all, his kingdom, the quarter that means most to him, will be the scene of battles that will tear the world asunder. 

For Olympus, too, is of his kingdom, whenever he might choose to make it so. 

Kratos, once of Sparta, lowers himself upon his throne, and dark designs unfurl behind his brows. They want a God of War? He will show them war the likes of which they’ve never conjured in their worst nightmares.

Kratos of Olympus, God of War, gazes down upon his realm, and his fury burns.

Athena watched as Kratos' silhouette disappeared behind the clouds, her smile turning into a frown. She had promised him a peaceful sleep, but once again she had failed to deliver. Such a failure she was, How could she have mistaken Zeus' words? She wondered if her father always intended to trick her, or if it was truly an innocent mistake on his part.

Whatever it was, Kratos was at a loss again. He will still have to bear the restless nights he has been enduring for the past 10 years. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm her thoughts. When she opened her eyes, she filled herself with hope, believing that the reward granted to her champion would make his life a little easier.

But then she turned back towards the cliffs her attention was caught by the smoke billowing from the city that bore her name. Her people needed her now more than ever, yet she had not been able to pay them the attention they deserved. Her preoccupation with her brother, Ares, had distracted her from her duties. Ever since Ares had driven Kratos into that village temple, Athena had been keeping a close eye on her brother. When she realized Ares' true purpose for Kratos, she had been thinking of destroying him.

She still couldn’t fathom how much hatred Ares had towards her and Zeus, and how deranged he can be to make someone kill their wife and child. She was determined to put an end to his madness once and for all. If he wasn’t stopped, she doesn’t even want to think about what he would have done to Olympus.

Athena shook her head, banishing the thoughts from her mind.

She closed her eyes and focused on transforming herself into a shepherd. Her piercing blue eyes lost their allure as they shifted to a warm, earthy brown. Her luxurious curls of dark caramel turned into blonde strands cascading down her neck. As she concentrated the shoulders of her feminine figure broadened and her chest flattened, giving her the more masculine appearance she needed. Her armor and tunic were replaced by a simple Chlamys draped over her. Every inch of her being was altered, from the set of her jaw to the shape of her nose.

When she opened her eyes, she resembled a rugged shepherd with weathered skin and rough hands, ready to tend to his flock in the fields barefooted. But she missed one thing, what's a shepherd without a stick? Athena extended her hands and a stick appeared in her fist. She looked at herself again, now she truly looked like a shepherd.

The goddess descended gracefully from the jagged cliffs, her feet landing softly on the forest floor, she made her way into the woods on the outskirts of the city.

As she navigated towards the walls she came upon a wide opening in the towering walls that encircled Athens. She remembered how just a week ago Ares had brutally crushed it underfoot with his horde of monsters, creating a path for them to enter. The Shepherd carefully navigated above the debris and entered the city, seeing nothing but destruction in its wake. At a distance homes lay in ruins, reduced to piles of rubble by Ares and his Cyclops. It’s not like she hadn’t seen people and homes being crushed under his foot when he attacked, but witnessing it in person was completely different from witnessing it from Olympus.

She ventured further inside, navigating through the debris, she noticed bodies buried among the fallen houses. Some were groups of people who were attempting to rescue those who were injured, some recovering the bodies of the dead. And there were those who simply wept for their loved ones lost in the chaos. A sense of dread filled her heart as she took in the aftermath of Ares' rampage.

With a heavy heart, Athena continued her journey through Athens. She passed by a dead man lying on the ground. She extended her hands to him, but hesitated and pulled back.

She could give the dead their life back until their souls weren’t sent to the underworld by Hermes at least. But her hands were tied, it would mean meddling with the threads woven by the fates and interfering with the affairs of Hades.

Hades would be enraged with her for bringing back the deceased, as they were supposed to become a part of his realm. In the past, he had even grown angry with Asclepius for preventing numerous deaths and resurrecting some souls. It seemed that Hades was very possessive and eager to fill his realm with departed souls.

As she walked further through the debris-strewn street, her attention was drawn to two men frantically trying to move a pile of heavy rubble. She approached them, her footsteps crunching on chunks of stone, and asked with concern, "What happened, gentlemen?"

One of the men briefly turned his dirt-smeared face towards her. "Stranger! Our mother is trapped beneath this rubble. Please, can you help us?"

The Shepherd immediately used his godly senses to see under the rocks. The woman was pinned beneath a large block of stone, still breathing but unconscious and covered in bruises.

He leaned grabbing the larger pile and suggested “I think we should move this first.”

"But it's too big," the other brother pointed out.

"We still have to try," the shepherd insisted.

Together, they all grabbed onto the pile of rubble. Athena silently blessed them with superior strength, hoping it would be enough to free their mother from beneath the heavy burden.

They moaned, “Agrr—” and the pile was lifted in the air.

“I can see her, I can see her!” the younger brother exclaimed excitedly.

“Hold it, I will pull her out,” the Shepherd said urgently. In a flash, he pulled the lady from under the pile. The brothers were overwhelmed with relief and dropped the weight they couldn't handle any longer. Luckily the lady was rescued.

The boys rushed towards her, their younger son leaning close to her face and calling out hopefully, “Mother! Mother!” But she didn't respond. He gently tapped on her jaw, pleading for a response, “Mother, no, no, no! please say something!” he panicked.

“Let me see her,” his older brother pulled him back and took his place by her side. “Mother?” Leaning in closer he rested his ears on her chest for a heartbeat. Finally, he heard the faint beating of her heart.

“She’s alive, brother!” he announced.

The younger man let out a gasp of relief and turned to thank the shepherd.

“Than-,”

But to his surprise, he was nowhere to be found, “Brother, where did that young man go?”

“What? He was just here!”

They desperately looked around for the man but he was nowhere to be seen without a trace. Were they hallucinating?

Athena continued her journey through the city, she dematerialized herself from the place and re-materialized to the opposite side of Athens. She noticed a few frantic farmers now running with jars in their hands .

The shepherd with the stick in his hand approached one of the farmers who was pouring water into the field with an Amphorae.

"Excuse me, farmer, why is everyone so stressed out?" he asked.

"It's our crops, they need water urgently," the farmer replied before immediately rushing off to fetch more liquid necessary for the crops.

The shepherd followed behind him. "But don't Athenians usually have channels from the rivers to water their crops directly?" he inquired.

"Yes wanderer, that's what we are known for, but-" the farmer replied.

"But?"

"But we were supposed to irrigate a week ago. Unfortunately, the river's water level suddenly dropped overnight. And then, when the god of war attacked, his minions trampled through our fields, destroying many of our crops. We were forced to seek refuge wherever we could from the attacks and were too scared to go out and prepare for watering by any other means"

They strolled near to the shoreline, and the farmer descended the decline to fill the Amphorae with water.

Athena couldn’t help but wonder, this was not the time for the water levels to go down at all - was Ares responsible for the sudden drop in water levels? That was really far-fetched, her brother was not the type to come up with such tactics to cause harm to the rival city.

Plus, he didn't have control over rivers, waterfalls or springs.

The only god who was capable of changing the levels of rivers was her uncle. Is he responsible for this? it was possible when he turned against her and sided with Ares he could unleash his wrath on the people, She frowned.

The river’s water couldn’t flow through the channel, as it way below the channel’s level. She could use her magic to make the water flow above it's level but it would be better if she taught them to solve these problems on their own.

"Couldn't we use pipes to transport the water?" the shepherd as them.

An older man was trying to give some support to the crops that were crushed under the feet of cyclops in an attempt to revive them and he overhead the shepherd.

"Water cannot flow from lower level to a higher one, kid," the old farmer scoffed.

"But have you actually tried it?" pressed the youth.

The elder man stood up straight and placed his fists on his waist. "Hhhh, do you think we haven't tried that already?"

"I am unaware about that, but I haven't tried it yet. Can I try it please?" the shepherd countered.

"What does a shepherd know about a farmer's job? But fine, you can be allowed to try." sighed the older man, exasperated.

The man looked on his side while shielding his eyes from the sun; and shouted.

"Pallas! Pallas!"

The shepherd almost responded to the call "Ye - sshi - sshi -" then quickly pretended to hum. No You are not Athena right now she murmured to herself.

She heard the man call out again, "Pallas!"

The young girl emerged from behind the crops, straightening her body from a different side of the field. She was dressed in simple, practical clothes. Her face was flushed from exertion but her hazel eyes shone with determination.

"Yes Father!"

"Bring the pipes daughter?!"

"Yes Father, coming."

"Pallas?" The shepherd asked the man.

"Yes, that is my daughter. She's named after our goddess." the man beamed proudly.

"Why?" He inquired with curiosity.

"I believe our goddess will always bless my child, she will always be with my daughter’s side just as she carries the name of her friend with her."

"Why didn't she show herself when the god of war attacked your city? She let him destroy it" the shepherd challenged his beliefs, keen to know the man’s response.

"No, she stopped his attack by sending her champion."

"Why didn't she come by herself?"

"There could be many reasons why she didn't. I trust our goddess; she has broken the bones of that ugly god of war's many times. If she could she would have come, and put him to the ground"

"If Ares had subjugated all of you, then what would you have done?"

"We would never be subjugated by him, we would rather die in the honor of Athena instead of worshipping that savage war god."

Athena was speechless; she paused for a bit and her eyes would have been numbed knowing how much her people loved her, she couldn’t imagine ever abandoning them.

"Father?" his daughter showed up.

The man asked surprised, "You are back already? You are very quick my darling.”

"Yes, I brought the pipes," she replied, dropping the long leather cylinder that she had dragged along the ground. It was made from leather, several leather pieces stitched like cylinders then stitched together.

"She's so strong," The Shepherd praised her strength.

"I am very strong! Heee" she boasted and posed like a brute.

"Ha, that's my girl," her father chuckled.

The shepherd picked one end of the pipe and pulled it towards the river. He walked down onto the muddy bank and submerged the end in the water.

He waited for a moment before calling out to the old man. "Is it flowing?!"

"No!" the old man replied with a stern expression, he already knew nothing was going to happen.

The shepherd stayed still there pretending to think about something.

The elder man look at him with a frown "it does not work in that way, kid."

"I have an Idea!"

"Do you have really?" the old man quizzed skeptically.

The shepherd immediately pulled the pipe, dragging it in the water until it gets filled up completely. Then he took the other end of the pipe and blocked it by pinching the end together.

"Drag the other end back into the field, Pallas!" he commanded.

The young girl stepped into the river and dragged the other end back out and dropped it in the field.

The shepherd could feel the water pulling and making him harder to hold on, he immediately shoved it back into the river and suddenly the water started flowing into the fields.

"Father! look! Water is coming!" Pallas exclaimed.

"What?!" The old man rushed over to see it himself. The water was actually flowing from the pipe into his fields, he couldn't believe his eyes. Was that some kind of magic?

“Did the water flow?” the shepherd asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yes - Yes!” the farmer exclaimed.

He gets out of the river and steps closer to them, he saw them really excited thinking as if it’s some sort of magic.

The earthy, musty smell of the damp soil filled the air as the water flowed into the field. Athena breathed in deeply, savoring the aroma that she never gets to experience while staying on Olympus.

“How did you manage it?” the farmer asked him.

“I’m not sure how it happened. I just prepared the pipe and sealed one end, then your daughter did the rest.” the shepherd replied.

Athena then gazed at the girl, feeling a sense of nostalgia, they worked together and it seemed as if she brought the old memories she had with her friend Pallas when they were young and curious girls.

"What is your name stranger?"

"Ath - Athanasios, yes."

"That's a great name, it sounds similar to the name of our beloved goddess."

"Thank you." Athena blushed slightly, If she had a son she might have named him the same as well.

"Do you need anything, Athanasios? You don't know how much you have helped all of us, can we do something for you? Do you need grains or olives? Those are the things that we can offer."

"Oh you are too kind. Thank you, but I don't need them right now. However, if you want to assist me, could you help me find a jewel maker I have been searching for?"

"Do you know their name?"

"That is the problem, I don’t know their name.”

"Do you know if they specialize in any type of jewelry?"

"I think they are known for making beautiful intricate trinkets."

“There are only a couple of jewelers who excel in delicate pieces like that. You could try your luck with Damon.”

"Do you know where I can find him?"

“I’m sorry, I don’t. I’ve heard his name before but I’ve never seen him or know where he lives.”

“Thank you nonetheless, Sypros. I’ll ask around.”

"Bid you a farewell then and wish you luck in finding that jeweler. Please come back when you have the chance; we would love to have you visit again. Hopefully, next time we can welcome you properly.”

The shepherd turned and started walking away while the farmer and his daughter turned and leaned to tend to their irrigating crops. As they worked, the farmer suddenly realized he never told the shepherd his name. He immediately turned back towards the direction the shepherd had gone, but there was no one to be seen.

"Daughter?" he called out, his voice trembling.

"Yes Father" Pallas responded without looking up.

"That man was a genius right?"

"Yes Father,” Pallas replied, it means she had also seen him, he wasn't daydreaming. But where could he have disappeared so suddenly?

Meanwhile, Athena had transformed herself into a little girl and stood crying beside a shop.

A man at the store noticed her and asked her what was wrong, "What happened girl?"

"My father," she sobbed.

"What happened to your father?"

"Suddenly everyone was running and so, so, I was with my father, suddenly we were separated."

"Who is your father, do you know his name?" the man inquired.

"I don't know, but I have seen my father making jewelry for others."

The man realized that if this little girl was a jeweler's daughter, her father must be wealthy.

"Hmm, I think I know who your father is, come with me I will take you to him."

He lifts the girl in his arms and carries her. However, instead of taking her to her father, he brought her to his own house.

Then he sat her on the chair, "Sit here, kid. I will come back with your father here," the man said before leaving the room and locking the door behind him.

Athena immediately understood what was happening, she laughed shaking her head, who was he trying to kidnap? Now she only wondered what punishment should she give him, she could get creative on this one, it would be fun.

Athena quickly understood what was happening and laughed, shaking her head at the man's foolish attempt. Who was he trying to kidnap? Now she wondered what creative punishment she should give him for his actions; it would certainly be entertaining.

The girl transformed into a crow, flapped its wings and flew out of the window then reverted back into the shepherd once again. He wagered It was better to ask people around for the jeweler instead of playing these games.

Athena was eager to meet this jeweler. Few weeks before Ares had attacked the city the jeweler sacrificed some beautiful trinkets that he made specially for her. He was praying to her for something but she couldn’t remember his name or his wish anymore. Her mind wasn’t in place, she was too distracted again looking over the actions of Ares.

After searching for a while the shepherd finally found a jeweler’s house. However it wasn't as grand as he thought it would be for the house of a jewel maker. He knocked on the door, hoping it was the man who had sacrificed to him.

"Is anyone there?"

The door opened and a man appears in a purple exomis, though it was slightly dirty.

"Are you Damon?" the shepherd asked.

"Yes." the jeweler replied.

"I wanted some trinkets"

"Who do you want it for?"

The shepherd paused for a bit thinking. "Um, there is this woman… I really like her, I want something for her."

"Please come in, come in," the man suddenly got excited and took him inside. 

He opened a box and pulled out some jewels for him.

"These are really beautiful."

"Thank you. Choose whatever you like."

He wanted to ask about something similar to the trinket that the jeweler had sacrificed to him. However, he spotted something interesting in his box.

The shepherd pulled out the piece immediately. "What is this?"

“This was supposed to be a piece for the goddess, but I accidentally broke it. So I had to start over and make it again from scratch.”

"The piece you've crafted is truly stunning. Have you asked the goddess for anything?"

"I have but she doesn't seem to respond to me."

"What did you wish for?"

Normally, he wouldn't share his desires with a stranger, but he felt comfortable enough with him.

"I have fallen in love with a woman like yourself and I wanted to make a wish to marry her."

"Why don't you ask her for a hand in marriage directly then?"

"She's already married"

"How can you love someone who's already married?" the Shepherd asked curiously.

"Love knows no boundaries or conditions."

Athena couldn't understand this concept - how could someone love a person who was already committed to someone else? She knew she couldn't grant his wish.

"How much does this piece cost?" he asked for the price thinking of leaving the place.

"Oh, no no no... please take it. I don't want anything in return."

"Why don't you want anything?"

"I believe that by helping other lovers, I will eventually find my own love."

Athena felt empathy for the jeweler. Despite being a talented craftsman, he remained poor because he gave away many of his creations without asking for anything in return. She also wondered how many such lovers have exploited him.

She could make him richer but also decided to teach him an important lesson.

"Would you give me your entire collection?" the shepherd requested.

"Uhh-" The jeweler hesitated - each piece took hours of hard work and dedication to create.

"No, right? If you keep giving your art to everyone who passes by without taking your deserved price, you will have nothing left for yourself. You might think just giving one won't hurt you, but if everyone took each piece from you, you will have nothing left. You can help only those who are in need when you first take care of yourself. First take care of yourself then decide to help anyone who needs you."

The shepherd picked up a different trinket on the table and handed him a pouch full of gold coins.

"This is too much!" protested the jeweler. "And didn't you prefer the broken one I offered to the goddess as a sacrifice? I can recreate it for you."

"No, I already have it." The shepherd smiled warmly at him and the jeweler saw a feminine curve for a brief moment as if he was not what he was looking from the outside. The man turned himself into an owl and flew away, the jeweler didn’t need to guess who that person was.

Athena perched atop a tree in the nearby woods and wondered if Artemis was also present. She idly scratched her face on a branch, enjoying the sensation.

Suddenly She saw a rodent scurrying in a bush nearby, she was getting tempted to chase after it.

No, Athena, don’t act like an owl. She managed to resist the urge and instead focused on the peaceful beauty of the surroundings.

After a few minutes Helios took his chariot off from the sky and Artemis took his place. Athena closed her eyes feeling lulled into a restful slumber by the cool breeze.

Kratos was lounging upon his throne, basking in the comfort of his throne. But it wasn’t the plushness of the seat that brought him comfort but the power and status he felt sitting on it.

The massive throne was crafted entirely from shimmering gold, adorned with the skull of a defeated beast crafted on its armrest. Its towering back rose high into the air with intricate designs and fire burning at its tips. The golden throne was partially covered by a crimson cloth, symbolizing the rage and fury of the god of war.

His throne was perched atop a raised dais made from bronze surrounded by small bowls filled with blazing fires casting a glow on his entire throne. Even the wall behind him was painted in a deep shade of red covered with golden patterns that exuded a harsh and cruel energy befitting Kratos.

In this moment, Kratos was basking under the light streaming down from the dome above his throne. But suddenly, exhaustion overcame him, and he realized he needed to lie down. For weeks he had been sailing from one harbor to the next, then another week of slaughtering monsters in Athens, climbing Pandora’s temple, conquering Pandora’s temple, and killing the former god of war. Now, finally, he could have some much-needed rest from all the chaos and battles.

Where is the bed?

With a lazy stretch, Kratos rises from his throne and searches for his bedroom. He descends the steps of his throne and strolls towards the entrance.

A long, luxurious red carpet spans the length of the floor, leading to the entrance. Massive pillars line the side, connecting to the high ceiling of his throne room. The walls were made entirely from white marble while golden torches illuminated the space.

Kratos approached the entrance where two massive pillars stood on top with bowls of burning bronze atop them, welcoming all who entered the throne room of the god of war.

To either side of the entrance, corridors led to the southern and northern sides of Mount Olympus, and the path ahead led to the entrance outside of the mountain, stairs from where he stepped inside the home of the gods.

Kratos took his weary limbs to the corridor leading to the southern side of Olympus. As Kratos stepped into the hallway, torches began to illuminate one by one. After walking for a few meters, he stumbled upon a room with a massive dining table adorned with goblets. However, Kratos was too fatigued to consume anything.

Moving ahead, Kratos stopped at another room; it was filled with an array of shields, swords, spears, scrolls, offerings, and other weaponry—perhaps it was the armory of the God of War himself.

After walking and moving past two other rooms, Kratos reached the end of the hallway to the last room, which was there. He swings open the large oaken doors and finally finds the bedroom of the god of war.

As he entered the room, the hearth lit up automatically, and torches on the wall lit on their own, revealing the exquisite bedroom of the god of war.

He looked around the room, and a large painting of Ares caught his attention. Kratos couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. The sight of his painting and the room with its lavish decor only added to his conflicting emotions. On one hand, he felt a deep resentment towards the room knowing to whom it belonged. But on the other hand, he felt a sense of triumph taking revenge on the war god and claiming his exquisite belongings.

But then the large bed in the center made up of wood engraved with designs made with silver and a purple mattress had caught his attention. He tried to brush off his conflicting emotion; he noticed it was the largest bed he could remember seeing.

He gets closer to the bed and runs his palm across the mattress. It was smooth, smoother than any mattress Kratos had lain upon before. He gets on the bed, rests his head on the pillow, and closes his eyes for a peaceful slumber.

Athena was dozing on the tree branch when she suddenly jolted awake; her body trembled, and a shiver ran through her when a loud screeching sound echoed through the forest. She almost fell from the tree in shock.

She quickly flew off the tree and scanned the woods, flapping her silent wings, trying to locate the source of the noise. The screeching voice came again; she flew towards its direction. She recognized the area as one with hidden underground tunnels leading to the heart of the city for emergency escapes.

She panicked and quickly transformed into her true form.

Athena entered the hidden passage; she gasped at what she saw.

The tunnels were filled with cyclops, minotaurs, and gorgons. She noticed several dead bodies of Athenians lying on the ground. Perhaps some people tried to run away from the monsters, and they chased them inside their tunnels and killed them, poor souls.

She inhaled deeply and seethed with anger.

Athena dashed towards the monstrous creatures, her twin swords bouncing on her hips. It was time for some revenge against these monsters for killing her people. She also craved some excitement; after all, it had been a while since she had sparred with these powerful creatures.

One of the cyclops screeched at her as she drew nearer. It swung its club, targeting her skull to crush it, but with swift reflexes, the goddess slid beneath the weapon's reach. She balled up her dainty fingers into a strong fist.

"Face your end, beast!" then slammed her fists on its belly. The cyclops instantly crashed on the ground.

A gorgon quickly slithered towards her from the left; she saw it coming from the side of her eye. When it tried to coil its tail around her legs, she pulled out the sword in her right hand, slicing the edge of the blade through its neck. Its red blood squirted on her face, and the gorgon’s head fell on the floor.

Another gorgon hissed and flashed its beam to stone her, but Athena, at light speeds, conjured her shield, blocking the beams aimed at her body. She darted towards the gorgon and pinned it against the walls. Just as its tail reached for her legs, she sliced it in half, causing its blood to splatter on her skirt. The gorgon hissed from pain and opened its mouth to squirt venom in her eyes, but Athena transformed the shield into a sharp blade and pushed it below the gorgon’s jaw, impaling its entire skull.

She saw a minotaur coming from her left huffing with anger. She instantly jumped from her place and stomped on the head of a minotaur, tackling it on the ground. The warrior then grabbed its horn and twisted its entire skull behind, killing it instantly.

Another minotaur suffered her wrath; she grabbed his blade in her hand and tugged it, and the minotaur struggled to hold it. Athena ripped it off from his hands, then impaled its gut with his own blade.

Two cyclops sprinted towards her; she dashed towards one of them, pulling out both of her swords. She jumped high in the air, making a flip; she landed behind the cyclops, and his entire body was sliced in half, dripping its blood on her body. The cyclops was split in half and landed on either side of her.

As its hot blood dripped on her body, an adrenaline coursed through her; her eyes flashed with rage, and she pounced on the other cyclops. She twists his club out of his hand, then strikes him with the club so hard his body is slammed against the walls of the tunnel and the entire underground shoot violently.

The cyclops was only a mush of blood and guts sticking on the walls.

She breathed in and out excessively; after some moments, she calmed down. She tossed the club to the side. She closed her eyes and focused, finding every monster in her city through her divine senses. She opened her arm, materializing a spear in her hand. She pulled her arm back and threw the spear in front of her.

The divine metal multiplied into thousands of other such spears and directed on its own, impaling every creature in the tunnel and in the rest of the city, killing every single one of them instantly.

Soon she inhaled deeply and the stench of the cyclops’ blood filled Athena's nostrils, making her expression turn into disgust. It smelled like rotting meat. Athena looked at her clothes, it was soaked in thick, dark blood from the cyclops. The sight of it made her grimace in disgust aswell She immediately teleported back to her chambers.

Athena's voice echoed through the halls as she called for her personal servant, Thalia.

"Yes my lady, coming!" She shouted from a nearby room. In a matter of moments she arrived. When she laid her eyes on her goddess she gasped , her expression filled with worry.

"My lady, what happened?"

Athena sighed. "Nothing; there were some creatures left in Athens; I had to kill them. It went a little bloody, but don't worry; it's their blood, not mine."

"Gross."

"I know; their blood smells horrible, and it's much thicker than human blood. I need to take a dip; can you prepare my clothes?"

"Yes, definitely, my lady."

Athena walked towards her bath chamber; Thalia followed her. Athena entered through the curtain on the door of the bath chamber. She turned to say something to her; as she opened her mouth, she noticed a trail of blood on the ground that seeped from her clothes.

She sighed. "No, these will need to be cleaned now."

"Don't worry, my lady, I will take care of it."

"Call Elara for your help; the blood is thick and sticky; it will not be easy for you alone."

"I can do this alone."

"Thalia." Athena glared at her.

Thalia smiled and nodded.

Athena rested her weapons on a marble, then she started taking off her armor. Thalia started filling the pool with warm water, then she brought the favorite essential oils of her mistress, olive oil, and scrubbers for Athena.

Soon the pool was filled, and Athena was stripped of her armor and garments.

She wrapped her fuller breasts with her arms. Athena wouldn't have stripped herself in front of anyone; she was even born with clothes, but only in front of her closest servant did she so. Many times Thalia had seen her mistress in such a state.

It was not that Athena was really comfortable being seen naked by her servant, but Thalia's work was such that it was easier for Athena to let her be in the vicinity as she strips down; otherwise it would have made their work incredibly harder; it would be next to impossible for Thalia to aid Athena in her daily tasks when she has such a busy life. Even though Thalia had many times seen Athena's curves, Athena always felt anxious about her body being seen by someone.

Athena walked towards the pool, stepped in, and dipped herself. Thalia handed her the scrubber, and Athena started gently scrubbing her chest, removing the dried blood from it. She slowly scrubbed her entire body, removing the blood.

When she was done, she stood on her feet in the pool, wrapping her arms around her chest.

Thalia then drained the pool so the waters dirtied by the monster's blood could be drained away.

There was a statue of the muses holding a jar from which water flows out. Thalia turned on the mechanism so that water can fall from it.

"Can you turn away a bit, please?"

Thalia then turned her back towards the goddess, and Athena then picked up the olive oil and started rubbing the oil over her body. She first rubbed her chest hollow with oil, grazing her palms over it left and right, then she moved down to glisten her cleavage. Soon she took more oil in both of her hands and started massaging the fullness on her chest gently; her breasts were ample and soft, not very tight, not very loose; they were perfect in a way that a man would imagine his woman to be. She then rubbed the flesh below her swells and then moved upwards again, groping and massaging the flesh, attending to her feminine curve.

When she was done with her chest, she moved down to her torso. Her hands glided over the smooth surface of her taut abdomen, slightly firm without the harsh, toned definition of muscles, and the skin warm and glistening from the bathwater. As her fingers trailed lower, they brushed over the gentle swell just above her pelvis—the subtle, feminine curve of her womb that softened her otherwise tight belly. She glided her palms on her waist, which framed her figure, accentuating the gentle transition from her flat stomach to the alluring curves of her body.

She poured some oil between her palms; again, with deliberate movements, she began to massage the oil on her flaring hips. Her fingers grazed over the smooth flesh, the oil creating a silky sheen. She kneaded and caressed the flesh, then moved down to her legs. Her thighs were full and strong, emphasizing the femininity and strength in the legs of the warrior goddess. She stroked the skin, feeling the sculpted contours of her muscles; she massaged her strong legs, feeling the oil glide smoothly over her skin, and her calves flexing gently as she moved her legs.

Athena then spilled some oil on her shoulders and massaged them; they were neither as elegantly slender as a delicate woman nor broader like a man. But as she oiled, the gentle curve of her collarbone underneath the skin caught the light, highlighting its delicate lines that flowed seamlessly into her shoulders. She then massaged her arms rigorously, making her feel strong and powerful as the goddess of war.

“Can you help me rub my back?” Athena asked her servant.

“Yes, my lady.” Thalia replied as Athena turned her back towards her; she poured some oil in her hand and rubbed her palms together, warming it. Then she glided her hands over the back of the goddess; she could feel the bones of her spine as she grazed her palms over the back. The shimmering liquid highlighting the subtle definition of her shoulder blades and the elegant curve of her spine beneath the soft skin.

When Thalia was done, she turned back again and let her lady know she was done. 

Athena then picked up the strigil and fine, smooth powders of wooden ashes, then rubbed it on her skin as well, and then she stepped under the water, and within seconds her entire body was clean, her milky skin was shining, radiating the allure of the goddess of wisdom.

"Thalia? Can you fill the pool again?

"Yes, my lady." 

The pools were filled again with warm water, and Thalia dropped a few drops of Athena's favorite essential oil. Athena took a dip again and leaned against the edge of the pool; she closed her eyes, relaxing each muscle of hers.

Thalia knew it would now take some time for the goddess to get out, so she went to clean the blood on the floor and also get Athena's clothes ready.

Athena recollected her thoughts while being in the warm water; it’s been quite a while since she could think about herself, her and herself only. But as if it was not to be, Kratos slipped in her thoughts suddenly, disturbing the calmness of her mind as if the calm water in the pool was disturbed.

She thought about him, wondering where his fate lay. He was made a god of war yesterday; he will have to be taught the ways of a god, not only a god but a god of war; his role was very crucial. But at the present moment she worried more about his health; she cursed herself for being manipulated by Zeus. How can she be tricked by her father into manipulating Kratos to perform what her father wanted and not even grant him what he needed? It was impossible for Kratos to sleep; how can someone? knowing they slayed their own wife and child.

Was it too much for her to ask Zeus to let him just have a peaceful sleep in the nights? He was just asking for a peaceful sleep.

At least if he became a god, he could use the privileges he gets as a god to sleep more peacefully, to which she wondered, was he sleeping well tonight?

“It’s done, my lady.”

Suddenly Thalia interrupted, interrupting her out of her thoughts.

“It’s done?”

“Yes, m’lady.”

Athena stepped out of the pool, covered her full breasts again, and walked towards her bed. She picked up the towel and dabbed her body with the towel, drying it. 

“Can I ask you something, my lady?”

“Yes?”

“Why didn’t you get married?”

“You know I have duties. I never want to get married because it would hinder my work, and—“

“The Fates have woven threads of my life that I shall remain an eternal maiden.”

Then Athena picked up the dress, which was comfortable for the night, and started wearing it. Thalia helped her to put the dress on. Athena was lost in her thoughts again. There was a moment of silence between them, then Thalia gently whispered something.

“I asked you, my lady, because you are so beautiful.”

“Hmm.” Athena was honestly not paying attention to her servant’s words; she was lost in her own thoughts.

“Men would have done anything to have you, to earn your love, then ravish you. You could play them on your fingertips like puppets with your mind and body.” Thalia tied the belt of the dress behind Athena’s back.

“Hmm—ravish, what?” Athena paused and suddenly asked Thalia if she was saying something.

Thalia stammering slightly, trying to cover up "Oh! I mean, uh... I was just asking if you’d like me to... prepare and refresh the bed for you. So you can get some rest."

“Alright, you prepare it; I’m coming back in a few minutes.” Athena then stepped out of her bedroom.

"Father!" The child's voice rang out, high-pitched and filled with excitement as she ran towards the man. He scooped her up into his arms, her small frame fitting perfectly against his chest.

"Why did you go?" she asked, slamming her small fists against his chest.

"I am here now, child," he replied with a gentle smile.

Suddenly, Calliope took off running through the fields, her giggles echoing behind her. "You cannot catch me, father!"

"I cannot catch you, huh?" He ran after her, chasing her in the fields. But no matter how fast he ran or how hard he tried, she always managed to stay just out of reach.

"Kratos! Calliope!" Suddenly his wife shouted behind them.

"It's getting late; now come inside," his wife reminded them kindly.

Kratos took Calliope's tiny hands, and they walked towards his house. As they walked, a dark shadow covered them, causing Kratos to look up in the sky. He saw Ares' massive feet slamming down on top of his wife and crushing her like an ant. Ares then snatched Kratos’ daughter from his hands and pinched her between his fingers.

"Calliope!" Kratos shouted, his voice echoing through the empty chamber. He sat up on his bed; his temples were glistening with sweat, and the sheets beneath him were damp. He breathed excessively, knowing it was the visions again.

He closed his eyes and tried to calm down his mind for a moment. However, he suddenly got up from the bed in frustration, looking around the room for intoxication like a frantic man.

As he scanned the room, his gaze landed upon a small circular table with a jug. He walked towards it, picked up the jug, and took a sniff from the vessel; it smelled of wine.

Kratos immediately held its edge between his lips and gulped whatever was left in the vessel; he needed no cups.

After emptying the vessel, he dropped it on the floor and sat on the bed. The Olympian wine worked its magic quickly, and he felt intoxicated. Kratos lay on the bed again; closing his eyes, he tried to sleep, but he was still disturbed; everything in the room reminded him about the cruelty of Ares.

Not even being a god can end his visions, and he was in this hell where everything spoke of Ares.

He stood up from the bed once again. When he couldn’t control his anger anymore, with a furious expression he picked up the circular table and hurled it at the image of Ares. The wooden furniture shattered against the wall, and the picture of Ares fell on the ground. He then took out his frustration by picking up a goblet fallen on the floor and throwing it towards the door.

Chapter Text

She walked toward the southern side of Olympus, her fingers lingering in the quiet space between her chest and abdomen, a subtle gesture of unease cloaked in stillness. The hallways lay cloaked in darkness save for dim occasional shafts of moonlight entering through the balconies providing an eeriness to the atmosphere.

She looked almost spectral—draped in a white nightdress, her hair wet and wild like a storm not yet spent. The only thing missing was her wooden sandals; once worn, she could spook any of their mortal servants.

When she reached her destination, she placed a palm gently on the door. But just before she opened it, she paused. A flicker of hesitation crossed her mind. Would be appropriate for her to visit here at this time of the night.

Then she dismissed the doubt away. Why would it be inappropriate? She's just here to take a glance and check on someone.

She pushed the door open, but the moment she peeked inside—"Ow!" she yelped.

A goblet, thrown by Kratos, had struck her squarely on the nose. She winced, rubbing it with a scowl before lifting her gaze to the man responsible. Then her eyes swept across the room.

The table lay splintered. Paintings hung crooked or had been torn down. Jugs, mirrors, and glassware were either shattered or strewn across the floor. It looked like a storm had passed through—one fueled by rage.

"What are you doing, Kratos?!" Athena shouted, stepping into the room like a mother catching her children causing nuisance in her absence.

Kratos froze the moment he saw her peek and the glass hitting her. His anger dulled to stillness.

It was one thing to break some furniture belonging to the gods—but to harm a goddess? And not just any goddess—Athena. His patron. The goddess of war.

He extended his hand towards her with hesitation, unsure whether he even deserved to make the gesture. His eyes, usually hardened by war and rage, now held a glimmer of regret.

“Pardon me, Athena,” he said, his voice low and rough, almost hoarse. “I couldn’t sleep. The nightmares… they returned once again.”

He looked away for a moment, ashamed to meet her gaze. Pieces of shattered glass crunched beneath his boots as he shifted his weight.

“I lost control,” he admitted. “I didn’t mean to—especially not to you.”

Her temper began to settle the moment he spoke. The rawness in his voice, the weight behind his words—it was exactly what she had feared. It was the reason she had come in the first place, though part of her had hoped it wouldn’t be true. She had sensed something was wrong, but seeing him like this, so disoriented and on edge, confirmed more than she wanted to admit.

Still, she hadn’t expected him to be in such a state—or to react with such violent outbursts. Even now, as the tension drained from his posture, he looked truly disgruntled, like a man barely holding himself together.

Her expression slowly softened. The fire in her eyes dimmed, replaced by a quiet frown.

“Sorry that I yelled at you,” Athena said softly, her voice carrying a genuine concern. “But I’ve never seen you act so aggressively before—especially because of your visions.”

Kratos waved his hand dismissively and turned away, his voice heavy with pain.

“I cannot stay here, Athena. This place reminds me of Ares. His portraits—they mock me. He keeps appearing in my visions, I see him hurting my family again and again, and it never stops. He is haunting me with the same nightmare over and over. I want to go back to Sparta.”

Athena felt a surge of pity for the man standing before her, mixed with a fierce anger toward her deceased brother. Though Ares was gone, the scars and wounds he had left behind ran deep—wounds in the hearts of those who might never fully heal.

Stepping closer to the warrior, she gently placed her hand on his broad shoulder.
“Uhh, I can find you a different room to sleep in tonight,” she offered softly. “Would that help you, my Spartan?”

For the first time, Kratos felt the touch of a goddess and not just a softness in her hands, but a warmth he had never known before. The gentle caress eased the tension in his face, and despite himself, her touch was so warm he couldn’t refuse her offer.
“That—would help, yes,” he admitted quietly.

He turned toward her, his eyes briefly meeting hers. She returned his gaze with a reassuring smile and said quietly, “Come with me.” Without waiting for any reply, she turned towards the door and started leading the way.

Kratos followed closely behind, his steps slow but steady. There was a calm certainty in her movements that seemed to invite him to trust her, and he allowed himself to do just that.

After they had walked for some time, Kratos couldn’t help but notice the way her wet, curly hair cascaded down to her hips, slightly dampening the fabric of her silken nightgown. His gaze then darted to the gentle sway of her flaring hips as she moved, swaying slightly from side to side. She was breathtakingly beautiful—so womanly and graceful—but he had known that from the moment he first saw her standing on the cliffs, stunned by her beauty.

Even now, as they walked quietly together, he found himself quietly admiring her in his thoughts, wondering if she had just taken a bath before coming to his room. But he knew better, he caught himself before his mind could wander too far.

He stepped closer, walking side by side with her. Their eyes met briefly, and for a moment, the silence between them grew thick and awkward.

“So,” Kratos broke the silence, his voice low and steady, “where exactly are we going?”

Athena considered letting him sleep in her room tonight. She thought briefly about asking Apollo if Kratos could stay in his chambers instead, but she wasn’t sure if Apollo would agree—and she didn’t want to risk giving Kratos a poor impression of her by making her rely on others.

The thought of sending him to the servant quarters never crossed her mind seriously. He was a god now, after all, and even if he weren’t, she would never want him to be seen as a servant. But more importantly, he deserved a place that was comfortable and safe.

Besides, if he stayed in her chambers, she could keep a watchful eye over him. That thought brought her a quiet sense of reassurance.

Before she could reply they reached her bed chamber.

“See for yourself, Kratos,” Athena said as she stepped inside, while gesturing for him to enter. The room was strikingly different from the one he’d left behind just moments ago. White curtains framed the windows, filtering the moonlight gently inside. The walls were crafted from light grey marble, giving the space an air of calmness. In one corner of the room there was a half-woven tapestry, hinting at unfinished stories.

Before Kratos could take in all the details, Athena called to him again.
“Come, rest here.” She pointed toward the bed, which was dressed in crisp white sheets—far more inviting than the heavy, red velvet ones he remembered from Ares’ chambers.

Already, the room seemed to calm something inside him. Without hesitation, he lay down on the bed. The mattress was soft but firm enough to offer support. He rested his head on the pillows, and the faint scent of oils filled his nostrils, he couldn’t remember which flower it was. A sense of peace washed over him. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to relax into a comfort that had long been missing.

Athena smiled gently, hoping he would be able to sleep here in peace.

Just then, the door opened creaked and Thalia stepped into the room. She stopped in her tracks, her eyes widened as she stared at the man lying on her mistress’ bed. It was Kratos—the Ghost of Sparta. A name that spread fear across Greece, known for his violent past and hated for the things he had done.

Thalia’s face grew pale, a thin line of sweat trailing down her forehead. She looked shocked, almost scared, and kept her distance.

Athena noticed her reaction and walked over, a little confused by the panic on the young woman’s face.

Thalia leaned closer and whispered, “M’lady, why is he here? I’ve never seen you let a man into your bedroom… and now he’s on your bed?” Her eyes flicked toward Kratos, and her voice turned bitter. “The one who killed his own family? That monster?”

At that word— monster —Athena’s expression changed. A flash of anger crossed her face carrying pain and disappointment underneath. Without saying a word, she grabbed Thalia gently but firmly by the wrist and led her out of the room.

“Don’t call him that, Thalia. Please,” Athena said, her voice sharp at first but softening with emotion. It wasn’t just a scolding—it was a plea, filled with frustration and empathy. “He’s suffered enough.”

Thalia looked down, startled by her mistress’s reaction. Athena rarely raised her voice, and almost never lost control of her emotions.

“He’s not going to hurt you,” Athena continued, trying to steady her tone. “He’s the new God of War. And I expect you to treat him with respect. Understand?”

Thalia hesitated, still confused and uneasy. “But… What's he doing on your bed, m’lady? You’ve never let any man into your bedchamber before.”

Athena crossed her arms and looked away for a moment. “He couldn’t sleep in his own chambers.”

“But… why?” Thalia asked, her curiosity outweighing her fear.

Athena raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you asking a lot of questions tonight?”

Thalia quickly lowered her head. “Sorry, m’lady.”

The goddess let out a soft sigh, as her anger faded. “Meet me in the morning. I have something for you to do.”

Thalia blinked. “What work, my lady?”

“In the morning, Thalia,” Athena said, firmer this time.

“Yes, m’lady.”

Thalia left without another word, and Athena quietly stepped back into the room, closing the door behind her. Her eyes went to Kratos. His eyes were closed and he seemed to sleep peacefully. A quiet breath escaped her lips, easing the tension in her shoulders.

She walked closer to the bed and sat on the edge, watching him in silence. There was a strange calmness in the room now, she could sit there and watch him sleep like this for the entire night.

She looked at his face, watching the details. He had a strong and wide jaw, complemented by the coarse stubble on his chin. His brows were thick carrying a stern look of determination. There was no denying he was a handsome man.

Her eyes then drifted lower to his physique. His strong broad and strong shoulders rose and fell with each breath, his solid chest tapering to a lean waist. His arms looked so powerful that he used to rip a minotaur’s jaw in half. While his forearms were covered by a white cloth. Muscles beneath his ghost-like skin looking as if chiseled by a sculptor. 

There was something raw about him, something deeply masculine—strength, aggression, fearlessness. And yet, lying there so still, there was also a quiet vulnerability to him.

He was everything a woman might desire. And perhaps for the first time, Athena found herself truly admiring a man’s form.

Startled by the thought, she stood up suddenly, a small smile tugging at her lips. Why now? she thought, amused by her own wandering mind. Shaking her head, she turned away, brushing aside the thoughts that had crept in.

She walked over to the smaller bed by the side wall—the one her servant usually used—and sat down. The moonlight slipping in through the window made the night feel darker, but also calmer, more still than usual.

She lay flat on the bed, letting her body sink into the mattress. Her limbs relaxed and she felt bliss, what one feels like when they finally get to rest after a long day working hard.

Sweat gathered at Kratos' temples as his eyes opened suddenly—another vision, another nightmare. But it was as violent like last time, though it had still shaken him slightly.

He turned to the other side and saw Athena was sleeping on the smaller bed, her back facing him, her figure partially wrapped in the glow of moonlight.

He looked at her waiting if she would turn towards him, and she did. Even in rest, she looked serene, radiant and otherworldly.

Kratos continued to watch her for a moment longer. Her presence eased the tightness in his chest. He laid back, closing his eyes and fell into slumber once again.

Hours passed in peaceful silence, Helios began his descent in his golden chariot, casting warm light across the horizon. A new day had begun.

As the sun began to rise, its golden rays spilled through the windows and touched Athena’s soft cheeks. She stirred, squinting against the light.

“Ugh, Helios... why are you always so early?” she mumbled sleepily.

Turning she pressed her face on the pillow shielding herself from the annoying rays. After drifting in and out of sleep for another hour, she finally sat up, stretching her lithe body with a quiet sigh.

Kratos was still fast asleep on the larger bed.

Kratos was still sleeping, she strolled towards the mirror and started tying her hair into a loose bun. As her fingers moved through her curls, her eyes flicked toward the Spartan. She paused for a moment, then stepped a little closer to the bed. Something felt off.

The white cloth wrapped around his forearm was stained with red. Blood.

“Kratos?!” she called out in panic.

He didn't respond.

Athena got closer and shook his shoulders "Kratos, what happened, Kratos?!" Her voice was tight with fear. She shook him again with more intensity "Kratos?"

Finally his eyes opened, he was greeted by distressed Athena. He blinked, disoriented, then slowly turned onto his back.

“Ahh...” he groaned, clutching his arm as pain surged through it. He sat up slowly, leaning back against the headboard, breathing heavily.

Kratos began unwrapping the cloth around his arm, wincing with each movement. Athena pulled the cloth gently to his aid. His forearms were scared badly, as she noticed the impression of chains she knew why he was scared so badly.

"How is it bleeding again? It had stopped yesterday," Kratos muttered, frustration laced in his voice.

"Maybe you aggravated it in your sleep," Athena said softly.

She reached out and lightly brushed one of the fresh cuts with her fingers. Kratos winced sharply and pulled his arm away, gritting his teeth.

Athena turned away and walked briskly to her cupboard. She opened its doors and hurriedly searched through its shelves, her hands shifting aside scrolls, jars, and vials. Looking for the medicine by her nephew Asclepius, something which she helped him create with the blood of the gorgons. At last, she found the small, dark bottle and hurried back to Kratos.

She sat beside him and uncorked the vial. Shestarted pouring the magical liquid on his wounds, the moment it touched his skin, Kratos cried.

"AHH!!" he grunted, his body tensing as it stung like snakes biting him.

"What are you doing?!" he snapped, yanking his arm away, eyes narrowed in anger.

"It will heal your wounds quickly, Kratos." Athena tried to calm him, Kratos didn't believe her, but in a few moments his wound started filling up quickly and the pain dulled.

"What in the gods’ name is this?" he muttered in disbelief, watching the wound close.

"Just some Olympian magic, my Kratos," Athena replied, then pulled his hands towards her and started pouring the liquid all over the remaining cuts. He winced in again, but the healing was instant and his wounds quickly filled up giving him relief.

"How do you feel?" she asked.

"I don't feel any pain.. what is that thing, is that ambrosia?"

"No," she shook her head. "It’s a medicine Asclepius made—originally for mortals. Strong enough to even bring someone back from the brink of death. He got into trouble with Zeus for that once... but that’s a story for another time."

 A voice called softly, "My lady?"

Athena turned her head to the doorway and saw Thalia standing there, and beside her was another of her trusted handmaidens—Laodamia.

"You both came at the perfect time." Athena smiled.

She turned back to Kratos and gestured toward the two young women. "Kratos, they are my handmaidens.Thalia and Laodamia. They will help you in cleaning and preparing your room. Throw anything that reminds you of Ares and if you like you can add anything you want. Just ask them for help."

Kratos looked at her. "You won’t be there?"

Athena stood and smoothed out her dress. "I have some more work to do, I will join you if I find a moment." She gave him a reassuring nod.