Ares

The forge beside Ares glowed with the heat of war. Fires that burned as hot as the depths of the inferno crackled around him, the blade that he picked up one that was worthy enough to kill the gods that roamed and hunted the mortal realm. Mars had come with Titania, an army at his back and the promise of his name to strike fear into those that would see them dead. He was War, and there would be nothing less that he would give to those who stood against them, yet he would ensure that those around him gave him everything, as well.

The aspect turned as someone approached, another survivor, another day – "Do you seek a weapon? If not, make it quick. One is only good to either live to fight, or die in the process."

The guard would be here soon, Ares made too much noise to secure any privacy even as they stood over their son’s grave. Titania had cowered in fear at the thought that her infidelity might come to light, and because of that fear she had lost her son. Ares had a right to his wrath, to his vengeance, but her duty was not to him, it was not to her heart or to her children. It was to the realm. To the people that had put their lives, their hopes, and their futures in her hands so that she might lead them into a brighter future. Ares did not know what that burden was, he knew conquest and he knew battle, but he was not a king, he would never be. 

“I was a Queen long before you met me, and I will remain a Queen long after you are gone.” Titania whispered, she did not falter under the weight of Ares’ wrath, his anger was a storm, a war of its own but no matter how the wind howled the mountain would never bow. “You came to me once, desperate for a place to call home. Leave this realm, conquer where you may, but I will never allow you to return.” Titania sheathed her blade, she would not use it, not on him, perhaps never again unless she was bid no other choice but to do so. “I choose not the path of fear, but of faith: someday our son will return to me, in this life, or in eternity that comes after.” Her hand touched his cheek as she spoke, brushed the place that her heart had once whispered was home. “Ma vhenan,” she breathed, “you are broken.” A heart broken by her own hand. “Hate me if you must, it is what I am owed. I will not stand in your way, but neither can I stand by your side so long as you choose the darkness.” 

-

Perhaps there would be a reckoning, but it would not be now. Ares had eternity, even if Titania tried to banish him from her realm, he would find another. In fact, he would find hers. For when she craved Hyperborea, whether that be in one year or a thousand, Ares would be there. He’d sit on the throne, remind her that he held what she wished for – for she had taken everything from him, he would do the same. Ares leaned into her touch, and while that one gentle moment defined them, he knew TItania’s words would be the complete opposite. He leaned forward, brushing his lips over Titania’s cheek, “Not if I find him first,” a promise, perhaps, or a threat, where they would rule in their own time, on their own terms.

The god of war backed away now, and before anything else could be said or done, he was gone, the threat of war lingering in the air.

Though the queen never waivered, in this instance Titania’s hand nearly trembled. There was no breath that fell from the original’s lips, but she could feel the life that emanated off of him just the same. The heart that did not beat lived instead within her own chest, it hammered even now as she thought to Venus who attended to the guests below. There was few that Titania wished for, more than anything to once again hold Meryasek in her arms, to undo the mistake she had made, but also to return home to the realm that had been taken from her. The fields of Hyperborea where giants roamed and the light of the elves sang symphonies that echoed for millennia, overlaying melodies that interlaced one upon the other in a beautiful harmony. It was her burden to be the last of her kind to remember this, but when she was a little girl it was the only song she knew. Ares had promised to return this to her before, but nothing was ever truly evil in the beginning. 

 “You would make me a conqueror, no better than my sister. You see no difference between the two.” Titania whispered, “That is why I will never stand at your side.” She would carry the burden of Meryasek’s memory with her dying breath, the child that never was would be an agony that would never cease to haunt her. A wound that hallowed out her breast, made worse that it was her own blade that had carved it out. But it was for Merysaek and for his memory that Titania would not darken her heart to either Ares’ ambitions, or her own. “My children are free. Free to live as they desire, free from war, free from violence and bloodshed. There’s no place for the them in the future you conspire towards. I see you, Ares, for all your devotion your heart is blacker than the void.” 

-

"Wrong answer, Titania.” Hyperborea would be conquered, one way or another. He needed no army. The drow queen would fall first, he’d send her head to Titania in a box, hang it on her palace wall for Venus to see. But as the high elf kept speaking, anger bubbled within his chest. It was for her his heart held any love; it was for her that he continued to breathe the same air as these pathetic mortals she surrounded herself with. “I would make you a queen!” He shouted now, uncaring about who saw them. There would be whispers, perhaps, but this ground was for them, and them alone. Ares had done everything for Titania; even waited for her to decide that she wanted him. 

“I would restore that which you cry for. All that was taken from you. And you would call me death for it – but death I am, ma vhenan.” The word was said with little care, but it held a deep enough meeting, when he’d tried to do as she wanted. When he’d bent to her will, to give her a son, to give her and him a life that they deserved. “I did it your way, once. And look at where it got me? Years of silence. A dead child. Nothing but chaos – and that’s what you’ve given me.”

The rise of the vampires had been seen and even heralded by the druids, protectors of humanity. More peacekeepers than warriors, particularly Aren, at least during the early lives of his existence as Archdruid. Sometimes when there was no stopping the beginning of something, it was best to embrace it and find a way to welcome it. It seemed to him that all magic that came to their world came for a reason, and though the existence of vampires was reliant on the blood or the souls of humanity, they were once humans too and there were ways for them to all peacefully coexist. Aren had had no good reason to see the original vampires as enemies, and so he’d extended a hand of friendship long, long ago. The memories of that remained now as he turned and looked at the man, recognizing him. Where once the Archdruid been dressed from a culture long gone, flowing hair and even a beard, the modern age had brought Andreas with his light grin and the air of youth and carefreeness despite the age of his soul. His body was still young, and this life had been kind to him. “Mars,” Aren greeted, both a little surprised but also pleased. “You don’t recognize me? Not surprisingly, you look exactly the same.”

-

“I am a god, you are a man. Ask me again.” Ares moved closer to Andreas, the scent of the archdruid’s blood something that sang to him. But this was how he always treated his friends, as lesser. So his smile to Andras was bright, “And you look like a child. How time changes little. You having a nice night? With your little...family?” His was dead – how unfair. But the god of war would get his revenge one day; he simply needed the queen of this world to agree with him. “It’s been a long time. Are more of your kind appearing because of you?” He’d heard whispers that the druids were dying out, no longer reincarnating like they should. Pity – some of them were excellent warriors. 

Long ago Titania had set aside her appetite for war, with it so too did she try to put Ares from her mind. He was violence incarnate, insatiable in his desires, bloodshed sent him into a frenzy that was unparalleled, from the moment they’d fought together there was a feeling that Titania could not ignore. A kinship that went beyond anything she’d known before. Glory and purpose, in her heart it was not enough to be loved or revered, she also wished to be feared. Feared by the Underdark and the Outer Gods who’d taken everything from her. Ares knew what it was to lose the world you’d known but together there was a promise that everything that was taken from them could be theirs again. Together though, they were more than the ferocity of battle and the energy that inspired great victories: they were the child dragged to the altar for favourable winds, the mothers who threw themselves upon the bodies of their sons, they were the fathers who returned upon shields, grave markers and memorials. They were death, they were the truth of war. 

Though the blade shattered Titania had another ready, to his throat in an instant. She could end this now, his line and all his creations. She did not know the manner in which his kind died, but Titania knew that he could bleed, and all things with ichor could be returned to the earth. The Queen did not press any deeper, though her blade sang with the warrior spirit within, Titania could not bring herself to go any further. Her oldest companion pleaded with her even now, end this blight, draw finality to war but there was a truth to his words that Titania could not ignore. If she did not make the first strike then someone, somewhere in the far reaches of the Otherworld Ayi’ig conspired even now, a spider who wove her web. Who held their son in her clutches, poisoned his mind, tainted his heart. Meryasek and countless others just like him. “To free Hyperborea, or to conquer it?” 

-

Another blade was pulled from nowhere, and while he knew she could press, end his life, the entirety of the Mars line – she wouldn’t. Too many vampires were alive, too much would fall apart – a kingdom of ash was a kingdom of nothing. “Titania,” he crooned, trying not to smile as he leaned into the press of the blade. “Both,” he grinned finally, all blood and war reflected in his eyes. She was close, still close enough to touch, and while she did not pull away from his touch, he knew how to make her come to him. She would, in her own time, and Ares wouldn’t have it any other way. They would stand, side by side, equals among lessers – and now, he could see the hesitation. 

“When they are free, they will be indebted. As all are, when lifted from oppression.” A ruler, their son could do it – that’s what he was made for, until he’d fallen into Ayi’ig’s clutches. “We need no one but ourselves – and someone to bring them forth. Yet all you have are whelps that live and do as they please; what a shame.” Golden Aegnor, who grew lazy on earthy desires; idealistic Farenduil, who had half mortal children – she knew it to be true. “What say you, love?”

Titania had thought once that in the conqueror’s heart there was something good, indelibly righteous, strong and virile he’d knelt before her and promised himself to this realm so that she might bid him safe passage. Whatever Titania had grown to feel for him had been palpable even then. The truth was there was nothing noble in conquest, nor in bloodshed and battle. Titania’s realm had been hard won and she could not deny that he, as well as his sister, had been quintessential in securing this lasting peace that the Queen coveted now. But Ares was made of war, he could never be satisfied, nor could he ever be content. Whatever flame burned in her to run rampant over this realm and so many others, he fanned it and fed it like a twisted rot that threatened to consume her at every breath. 

Was it better for her son to be dead than to know the monster that he’d been born from? Did that make her every bit the horror that stood in front of him now? “Losing him is my single greatest regret,” Titania clarified, she sought to change her perfect, beautiful child in a moment of personal weakness, and for that she’d carry the burden of this grief until her dying breath. Air that washed between them even as he pressed the hilt of her dagger to her chest. “even greater than the regret I hold for opening my bed to you.” In the passing quiet Titania would whisper to Venus, Ma Vhenan. But as the ancient mortals had defined love in a multitude of ways, so did Titania divide her heart from one sibling to another. 

-

He was a proud thing, wasn’t he? The original vampire was a god in his own way, who’d bent the knee to only one, a queen that he found worthy. This was love, wasn’t it? Had to be. Ares would’ve burned the world for Titania, she simply had to see it his way. He’d tried her way, before. The god had been patient, he’d been intent on making sure the goddess would come to him. And she did. “Regret doesn’t change the past, does it?” She could regret it all she wanted; perhaps the only real reason she remained at Venus’ side was because Ares had yet to speak of their dalliance. Though to be fair, it was always more than that. “We could burn down the world together, Titania. Return him to his place at our side. The Underdark will fall, your sister’s head upon the ground...”

Conquest was what set his heart on fire, but this? Titania at his side? It was always enough. “You hold no regret, my Queen. I can see it – your voice betrays you. Your heart...” he wrenched the blade from her grip, the entire thing shattering within his hand. The pieces fell to the floor, and he lifted his hand to brush his fingers against her soft cheek, “You destroyed my gift to you – how will you make it up to me?”

@marscfwar​ location: Fairy Queen’s Private Memorial Gardens notes: mourning the loss of their son but spicy

This was a family plot, reserved for members of the royal family. Titania supposed that she should have felt blessed that there were only two graves marked here. Yidhra, first queen of the fey, and high elf had died along their journey from Hyperborea to here. She gave her life so that Titania might have a chance to start over in this mortal realm. It was a natural thing for children to bury their parents, she had no memories of her father, and only vague recollections of the deity who’d fostered her in the hours of her childhood. Though thousands of years stood between then and now, Titania thought of her often, she hoped Yidhra was proud of her. No mother, however, should ever be made to bury their child. Meryasek had been born an abomination, a child that never should have been she’d bore out of desperation, she fed him the flower of the pharmakis when he was only a newborn and watched with horrible grief as his flesh mottled and he died by her own hand. 

For all her power, Titania had not been able to save him. Her desperation to remake him had ended him, had made him into his truest self. A drow. Now he was somewhere out there in the ether, in the infinity of the cosmos likely fueled by an insatiable hatred of her. Titania wondered if Ayi’ig would spare the kindness of rearing the babe not to loathe where he came from, though in her heart of hearts she knew the truth. None were allowed here now, save for her children and Venus, naturally. Still, there was a truth that Titania could not breathe a word of, infidelity, and the fault she placed on her own shoulders for transforming the son that should have been perfect in a mother’s eyes. 

“You should not have come here.” Titania whispered, the original vampire could hide his presence from everyone - everyone but her. She would have known him in death, by the way his breath rose and felland the way his feet struck the earth. She would know him in madness, in death, at the end of the world. A dagger was in her hand in a moment, she whirred in a blinding flash, light met shadow as her arm could go no further. 

-

For all that he’d given her – she’d squandered it.

Ares was certain that one day, Titania would see it his way. She’d leave Venus, return to his arms, where she belonged. Wasn’t that the fate? There was no one better than he, and even Venus could hardly compare to his own strength, his own glory. She’d come to him once before, behind his sister’s back, behind her lover’s back – met in an embrace, where light spilled between them as their hands met. 

“But you’re here – how could I not?” He whispered, gripping her wrist tighter now, bending it backwards against her chest so he could be impossibly closer. A part of him wanted to let the blade slide through him, remind her that not even she could be rid of him. Ares knew he lived there, rent free, in the back of her mind. “You killed my son. Did you think I wouldn’t come back to see this? To see what you did? Were you ashamed?” Venus would remain none the wiser, perhaps, but not Ares. That child was a gift to Titania, one she would be proud of. Two gods, the first of his kind, only to die and be sent to the Underdark. “Tell me, my love, why do you act like I don’t exist? I’m here, always here, aren’t I?” He grinned now, his face closer to hers, almost like he could see the place she’d built for him reflected in her gaze.

Rejoice.

So the Queen had said, but the original vampire was more than ready to cause a scene. How could they all rejoice? His gaze was trailing on the Queen, the woman who held his heart, married to his pathetic sister, Venus, of all out there. They were gods, and should be revered as such. Either way, his bloodline was among the crowd, yet he chose to remain hidden. There were those he’d speak to by the end of the night, there were those that he’d stick his fangs into one way or another, but he was a creator, a warrior, and would hold himself as such. If Titania wished to spurn him, pretend like there was nothing between them, then Ares would show her what she was simply missing out on. 

The glass of blood lifted to his lips as he weaved his way through the crowd, catching someone alone at the beginning of the gardens out the back of the castle. Tilting his head, Ares smiled, “Are you lost? Or are you not a fan of the party?”