You're family, aren't you?

Princess and Soldier (or how Ares sees Sephie)

Ares was a god of war, and was proud of the fact. Forget about the strategy, formations and all that nonsense the bore he had to call his half-sister could wax about all day; give him a weapon and an army, and he will be happy. Unfortunately, the side effect of such lackadaisical attitude was the myth of him being, well… not exactly smart. Ares did not bother correcting the misconception: more people that underestimated him, easier he found to defeat them. Hey, he was a god of war – he knew his strategies!

The defeat he suffered at the hands of Persephone Jackson, on the other hand, was a smarting wound he itched to avenge sooner rather than later. Sure, he wasn’t completely in his right mind, with Gramps whispering ideas in his head, but still. Being defeated by a twelve-year-old twerp was an insult he wasn’t about to let slide… even if the said twerp was gorgeous as Hades.

What? He had eyes! The girl had been seriously pretty back when she was twelve, and now, at the age of fifteen, Ares was man enough to admit he would go after her if he could get away with it.

Which he wouldn’t. Damn, just running the gauntlet against all six elder Olympians was enough to second-guess that idea, not to mention Aphrodite would be annoyed with him for ruining her schemes for the girl. He was not about to lose his on/off lover for a fling like Persephone Jackson, much less his manhood. Poseidon was one scary motherfucker when it came to his Princess and her virtue.

That didn’t stop him from messing around with her life, though. The curse he placed on her on the beach in LA all those years ago was a nice touch, but he wanted her to suffer a bit more. He wanted to see her fatal flaw first-hand, and what kind of fears she harbored behind those glowing green eyes. It was no coincidence he sent Phobos and Deimos after Clarisse, forcing his daughter to veer off the planned route and making her practically run into Sea Princess.

“Nice,” Ares whistled, watching the scene unfold in the reflection of his shield. Okay, technically it was Bird Brain’s shield, not Aegis but the gift from Hephaestus, but two war-oriented siblings had a deal. If one of their children was on a quest, they could have the shield until the other requested it.

Getting off track. Nice was certainly an understatement. Why, oh why didn’t the girls fight in their skirts more often? It was hardly a hindrance for a good fighter, and Persephone Jackson was more than just a good fighter. If the prophecy did not hinge the fate of Olympus on a single choice, Ares wouldn’t be worried at all.

Clarisse did not seem happy to have the sea brat tag along, and Ares shook his head. Hadn’t his hard-headed spawn learned nothing happened without a reason? He was no Oracle, nor did he want to tangle with the whole future-seeing mess, but there was always a good reason why things happened to demigods. The difference this time, of course, was the clear-cut reasoning Ares had. Humiliate Jackson a bit, see how she fought, maybe ogle her a bit… What?! Like he stated before, he was a man, he could see when a girl was pretty!

“Ares?”

Oh brilliant. Bird Brain herself was here, as if summoned by his thoughts.

“Yes, sister?” Ares drawled, spinning in his chair to face Athena, conveniently concealing the shield with his back. “Has Father called for another emergency meeting?”

“No.” Now that he looked, Ares could spot golden dots peeking from the creases in her armor, as if someone tried to clean golden stains off quickly. Oh? What was going on? “But we need to coordinate a plan in case Typhon awakens. Fates know Barnacle-Beard’s spawn did her best to wake him up.”

“Gramps would’ve woken him up no matter what. He is the ‘Titans’ Wrath’,” Ares shrugged, not interested in listening to the three-thousand-old rivalry speech from Athena. In his opinion, Uncle Poseidon was more humoring Athena these days in her fixation, which was a pity. He missed the good old days, when the two could not be in the same room without nearly raising its roof off. “And from the old cripple told Mr. Sunshine, the girl was trying to stop telkhines from finishing Gramps’ scythe.”

Athena paled at the news, which honestly surprised Ares. Everyone on Olympus… ah. Oh.

“How many are out?” The War God asked, all traces of joking gone from his harsh features.

“Three of the brothers, not counting Oceanus and Titan Lord,” Athena sighed. “Hyperion and Krios are completely out, and Iapetus will be out around Winter Solstice. The second-generation are all imprisoned, thank Creator.”

Ares relaxed a little. If none of the second-generation Titans were mucking around, gods – and him, by extension – will be able to concentrate on Typhon when he wakes.

“Then the plan is simple. Occupy Typhon, and give Jackson girl the reins with defense of Manhattan.” Ares leaned back in his chair. “What’s there to plan?”

“The girl is barely fifteen, and Kelp Head is her father,” Athena frowned at Ares’ brazen and, if Ares read her right, in her opinion foolhardy plan. “How will she be able to pull the coordination and the defense of such a huge territory effectively?”

“If you need to ask that, Owl Head, then you’re blind,” Ares informed Wisdom Goddess bluntly, turning his back to her. “The brat has the respect of every demigod loyal to us; they’ll listen to her. And she’s neither stupid nor prideful,” he stressed the word, enjoying the sudden electricity that filled the air, “enough not to ask for help. Besides, if she’s truly the hero of prophecy, she’ll have to make a decision. Better let her make that decision with lives on her back – less likely for her to betray us.”

The last part was not necessary with the brat’s fatal flaw, but he had to get the idea through Athena’s thick skull. When he succeeds, she would leave him, and he will be able to return to watching the mini-mission he set in front of his daughter and sea brat in peace.

“I’ll… think about it,” Athena finally conceded. “Be ready to answer summons soon – Father and I will be organizing the war council in the next few days.”

Ares nodded in understanding, but did nothing more, letting his sister walk herself out of the room. He had spying… ah, watching… to return to.

~

After Clarisse managed to return the chariot – in the nick of time, too – Ares decided to go cruising around Manhattan and catch up with the elusive Persephone Jackson. He needed to talk to her – three years was more than enough for his anger to simmer down to the point where he could have somewhat civilized conversation with her.

What he didn’t expect, though, was a run-in with Persephone, his half-sister, in Central Park.

“’Phone?” Ares asked, stunned, as he took off his shades to look at the Goddess of Spring lounging on the bench just in the shade of the huge tree.

“Ares,” the goddess smiled. “What brings you here?”

“Cruising,” he patted Harley, the favorite shape of his chariot nowadays. “I thought Uncle Doom and Gloom had you at this time of the year?”

“I’ll be going down,” Persephone tilted her head. “I’m just waiting for my escort.” She looked up, checking the position of Apollo’s chariot, before frowning slightly. “They’re a bit late, though.”

“I’ll keep you company,” Ares blurted out before his eyes widened at the implications of his words. Thankfully, Persephone just giggled and scooted over, folding her multi-colored dress to make space for him to sit.

“Thank you. I’m a bit bored, actually,” Persephone told him warmly as the War God gingerly sat down next to her. “But I guess something unexpected happened – they’d have sent a notice by now.”

“Not your mother, I hope.” Ares shuddered at the mere mention of his aunt. Demeter had never been a favorite goddess of his, and since Persephone married to Hades, she became downright impossible to be around.

“No, I’ve had a parting dinner with Mother yesterday,” Persephone shook her head. “Uncle Poseidon and Aunt Amphitrite can’t come, with Oceanus’ siege and all, but – hello, Sephie, Sally, Bianca, Nico!”

“Lady Persephone!” Four voices chorused, and Ares whipped his head around, finding the girl he had set out to look for right behind him, trailed by what looked like Hades’ brats and pretty, middle-aged woman with blue eyes and light brown hair. The woman frowned, eyes darting between him and his Harley, but the Sea Princess saved him from the awkward introductions and explanations.

“Ares?” Persephone Jackson asked, completely taken aback. “Lady Persephone?”

“We ran into each other by accident, Sephie,” Persephone reassured the demigoddess, and the entire group of newcomers relaxed a bit. “Nothing intentional.”

“Thank Olympus,” Jackson girl smiled. “Bianca, Mum, this is Ares. Nico, you already know from the Winter Solstice. Ares, my cousins Bianca and Nico, and my mum, Sally Jackson.”

“Still an impertinent brat I see, Jackson,” Ares shot, slightly insulted over the fact the brat was more respectful to his sister and her mother than to him.

“Still a sore loser,” Sea Princess fired back. “How’s your heel these days?” Ares stood up, letting his aura expand, but Persephone tugged him down with a slightly watered-down version of Death Glare she learned from her husband.

“Sephie!” Girl’s mother scolded. “He’s an immortal!”

“He’s an ass that’s what he is, Mum,” the brat crossed her arms. “But we’re here to follow Lady Persephone down, not argue. By the way, Ares, Mum’s clear-sighted.”

“I figured,” Ares grumbled, rising off the bench. “I’ll be going. See you in six months, ‘Phone.”

“Ah-ah,” Persephone shook her head, stopping him in his tracks. “I was wondering how will we fulfill the six-person quota. You’ll stay and help us.”

Ares’ eyes widened, but before he could protest, Goddess of Spring dragged him over to the heap of rocks in the southern part of Central Park, mortals falling in step with them.

“You ready, Sephie?” The Hades’ girl asked, and the sea brat nodded, fiddling with the earbuds hanging out of her hoodie. “Then let’s start. Nico?”

Hades’ brat – Nico – nodded, and pulled a Stygian Iron sword out of the shadows. Standing behind Persephone Jackson, he gently leaned onto the sword, pushing the girl closer to the rocks. The mortal woman nudges Ares to stand next to Nico, while she walked to stand on the other side. Persephone sat on her heels between her cousin and step-son and closed her eyes.

Sea Princess cleared her throat, put in one of the earbuds and pressed the button on the cord. A moment later, wind picked up as she opened her mouth, throaty yet airy words Ares mindlessly recognized as French spilling from her lips.

Je t'aime, je t'aime (I love you, I love you)

Comme un fou, comme un soldat (Like a fool, like a soldier)

Comme une star de cinéma (Like a movie star)

Je t'aime, je t'aime (I love you, I love you)

Comme un loup, comme un roi (Like a wolf, like a king)

Comme un homme que je ne suis pas (Like a man I am not)

Tu vois, je t'aime comme ça. (You see, that's how I love you.)

(Lyrics taken from Je t’aime, by Lara Fabian)

The crack in the rocks Ares thought was natural suddenly widened, creating an arch big enough for a mortal to walk through with his head bent down. Persephone stood up, opening her eyes, and soundlessly walked to the arch, pausing for a moment to exchange a wry smile with her namesake, and disappeared through the arch. Hades’ brats quickly followed the suit before the gate closed, leaving Ares, Persephone Jackson and her mother to stand awkwardly around the rock heap.

“Let’s go home, Sephie,” Jackson’s mother finally broke the silence, glancing mistrustfully at the War God. Ares couldn’t find it in himself to be offended, though. The strange ritual left him feeling drowsy, like Apollo purposefully overdosed his nectar with sedatives to get him to sleep after one of his legendary crashes.

He found his eyes closing for a good nap, but before that happened, someone slapped him clean across the face.

“Don’t fall asleep, i***t!” A girl’s voice commanded. “Sorry Mum, it seems we’ll have to take him with us – he’s totally under the spell.” Next thing he knew, heavy bass and strange gibberish flooded his ears, forcing him awake.

“Wha-?”

“Sleep spell of the Nature,” Jackson – Sephie - explained impatiently. “And you’re under it. Just stay awake until we can get you away from the Central Park, and you’ll be okay.”

“How-?” Ares couldn’t get his bearings under control. How did he end up falling under the spell? The bass intensified, and he was rudely returned to the real world.

“I’ll explain later, now walk and stay awake!” Sephie ordered. “Mum, help me.”

After several tense minutes, in which Sephie had to up the volume level of the song three times to keep the War God awake, the strange trio stumbled out of the Central Park. Ares instantly felt better, less woozy and more awake, but it still wasn’t quite perfect.

“You should come with us home and eat, Lord Ares,” Sally Jackson suggested uneasily. “Nectar and ambrosia won’t help you at all, we tried it with Amphitrite and it didn’t work.”

Ares wanted to refuse, but the washed-out colors of the world around him were freaking him out.

“Okay.”

~

The dinner in Jackson-Blofis household was a bit strained, but Ares couldn’t find fault with the hospitality Sally Jackson showed him. She didn’t try to brown-nose – not that he expected her to, she was Uncle Poseidon’s ex-lover, not his father’s! – but she did go through trouble of adding nectar into portion of the blue chocolate chip cookie batch.

“Thank you, Mrs. Jackson,” the War God grudgingly said, and the woman smiled gently.

“No thanks needed, Lord Ares. Between Poseidon’s family and Sephie’s friends, I’m quite used to immortals and demigods paying me visits and eating my cookies.” She sighed, and raised her voice slightly. “Sephie, Paul! Dishes and coffee!”

“Yes, Mum/Sally!” echoed from the farthest room in the apartment, and seconds later, demigoddess and mortal appeared. Sephie instantly bee-lined to the sink and Paul grabbed the coffee mug and leaned on the table to observe Ares.

“So. Greek Myths are real?” Ares blinked at the honest curiosity dripping from the mortal’s voice.

“Yes. Didn’t you meet my uncles?”

Paul chuckled, rubbing the back of his head. “Well… to be honest, Poseidon didn’t really look like a god, and Sephie is the only one who sees Hades on regular basis. He never came here.”

“Don’t use the names if you don’t have to,” Ares warned the man, furrowing his brows. Since when were the Sea Princess and Lord of Dead on good terms? “You really, really don’t want to accidentally summon one of us.”

“I thought it didn’t work for mortals?” Paul had the deer-in-the-headlights look on his face, and Ares shook his head.

“You’re involved with an ex-lover of Olympian god, and you treat a demigod like your own child. Monsters will most likely leave you alone, but gods… Let’s just say Olympus keeps very close tabs on your step-daughter.”

“Wow, that makes me feel so loved,” Sephie shouted from the kitchen, shamelessly revealing she had been eavesdropping. “Maybe if you guys would tell me the Great Prophecy, you wouldn’t need to follow me around like stalkers.”

Ares snorted. Subtlety in conversation – or the lack thereof – seemed to be an inheritable trait with children of Poseidon. “Nice try, girlie. Not worth getting my skin fried by Father.”

“Great,” demigoddess deadpanned, appearing at the doors of the kitchen with a wet towel in her hands. “One more brilliant idea, courtesy of Uncle Z.”

The thunder rattled the window blinds. Paul paled horribly, and Sally rushed into the room in similar state; Ares and Sephie, on the other hand, just rolled their eyes.

“Sarcasm is completely lost on Father,” Ares informed Sephie.

“No s**t, Sherlock,” Sephie yawned. “Mum, I’m done with the dishes, and I think certain god needs to leave the premises before the horde of monsters swarms the block.”

Ares tsked at the rudeness, but decided not to do anything. For all danger she posed to Olympus, the girl was a warrior, and he could respect that. He didn’t need to like her (even with her hotness level multiplying as she aged) to be able to work with her.

That, however, didn’t mean he would help her any more than what he had to. Clarisse was old enough to make her allegiance known to the gods, and if she helped the sea brat defeat Kronos, he will make damn sure everyone knows it.

He was a shitty parent and all-around bastard, as Hephaestus liked to call him, but he wasn’t above acknowledging his children’s triumphs and rubbing them in others’ faces.

Hey, he was a personification of War – and while War was hardly kind or nice, it made sure the names of strong ones will never be lost in the sands of time. Just ask Achilles, or Hector.