Zeus Ares Novels & Stories

The doors swung open of their own accord, revealing the vast throne room beyond, where columns of polished marble rose to a ceiling painted with scenes of the gods’ greatest triumphs. At the far end of the room, Zeus sat upon his throne of oak and bronze, his form larger than life even for a god, his eyes flashing with the same light as lightning in storm clouds. Around him stood other members of the pantheon – Athena in her armor of polished silver, Hephaestus leaning on his hammer despite his lameness, Aphrodite draped in fabrics that shimmered like water, Ares looking bored and restless as always. Behind them, lesser gods and nymphs stood in respectful silence, their eyes fixed on the kin

is all I can say. Ares may be akin to the god of war when on the battlefield, but the truth is, he is like a child who never grew up. In many ways, he resembles Helios physically– tall, lean and strong – yet he is far more innocent and wild than Helios and has undoubtedly had more fun in life. And though I love Ares as a brother, I cannot bring myself to tell him everything here and now. Everything has spiralled out of control. It’s too insane. I myself haven’t even had time to process the whole thing.