The Rariad
By Tundara
9: Gaea
Lekos and Cretos, the hale twin sons of Palamus, crouched low in the shade of a sheltered copse of trees overlooking Athen’s southern gates. They’d shucked off their armour and wrapped themselves in simple clothes of traveling merchants. Hiding their armour among the cellar of an abandoned building, with runes to be able to summon them should the need arise, they further covered their faces in dirt and legs in a healthy swathing of mud. Little could be done about the thick muscles of their shoulders, or their piercing glare. Stallions of Sparta, they spent long days honing their bodies and magic into the arts of warfare until both were sharp as a bronze spear, and even mud or loose clothing could do little to hide their powerful frames.
Pulling the hoods of their traveling cloaks over their heads, they made their way to the city gates, rickety wagon taken from an unfortunate merchant trundling along the damp road. A shower late the previous night had left mud holes that made the trip a slog, the wagon having to be maneuvered around them continually. As the summer sun rose the road dried, forming a baked, rock hard surface.
The brothers weren’t alone on the road. Tales of Athens being graced with the presence of Hera and a mysterious, new alicorn had spread far and wide over the past few months. Travellers and merchants began to flock towards the once forgotten city, willing to brave the dangers posed by brigands and Spartan raiding parties for the chance of seeing one of the gods. Many were the number of wagons rumbling along roads unused for a great many seasons, churning the tracts to muddy sludge as they forged their way towards the tarnished beacon of Athens.
The guards at the gate frowned behind their plumed helmets, checking wagons and interviewing merchants before allowing them through gates unused for decades. Tension ran up the guards shoulders, shields kept close as they worked, a dozen of their fellows watching from the walls with readied spears.
Lekos did the talking as their wagon was inspected, the dried goods used to mask their true intent shifted through, while Argentes asked questions. Argentes was a crafty pony, and Lekos feared that he’d be caught in a lie. His questions were probing and sharp as the glint in his eye, and the brother’s feared they were moments from discovery, so much so that they looked each other in the eye and knew the other’s thoughts to spring upon the Athenians. Their tension was for naught, a commotion from a wagon behind them drawing Argentes away as he signaled for the brothers to be admitted to the city.
Athens bustled with early morning activity, ponies filling the marketplaces in eager anticipation of the newly arrived merchants’ wares. Lekos and Cretos found a place to stash their wagon next to a tavern and went inside to see what they could discover. The establishment bustled with fresh activity, every room already taken and the owner rushing about to serve patrons. Sitting in a corner, the brothers observed and listened for a time, and much did they learn.
They learned of Rarity, most generous of the gods, and how she lived in the temple atop the hill, tended by the priestesses, with her champion, Trixie Lulamoon, daughter of Countess Belladonna Lulamoon of Gallopton, a city far from any land visited by ponies of Athens, as company. With them was Hera, attended by Maia and Electra, the great goddess refusing to depart for Olympus until she’d bested Rarity.
Daily were the challenges between Rarity and Hera, and though Hera had won a few, the greater share of victories belonged to Rarity. Unsatisfied until she’d truly bested her rival, Hera remained in the city.
Lekos and Cretos frowned at the rumours, and put little stock in them. The words of half-drunk merchants were to be discounted as embellished, and so the brothers set out to see for themselves how much truth lay in what they’d overheard.
The roads were filled with optimism, ponies chatting as they set about their daily routines.
A filly ran between the brothers, hollering and screaming for joy at the top of her lungs. Curious what pleased the filly so much, Cretos watched as she screeched to a stop next to her mother. Jumping up and down, she said, “Mother, mother! I was with Atelimos and Olymia down by the gardens, and there was this kitten. It was a sad thing with mangy fur and a limp, and surely I thought that it seemed so sad and forgotten. Atelimos went to throw a rock at the little thing, but I stopped him, as Queen Rarity tells us to show kindness and generosity to even the sickest and lowest creatures. I picked up the kitten, and it was so small and shivered in my aura as I placed it in my hooves, fur on ends and hissing at me. And then it just calmed, all the mighty fear in its tiny breast fading away at my touch. And then! And then! Oh, it is most amazing mother! I felt it! A spark! In my heart!” The filly touched her chest and smiled wide at the memory. “And then my flank tingled, and Olymia gave out a shout, ‘Petella, your flank! Look at your flank!’ she cried with shock. Shock I shared, as when I looked, I had a Soul Mark!”
All the while she’d been speaking, her somewhat aggravated mother waiting expectantly for the story to end, the filly had been dancing and spinning about. As she concluded her story she stopped, and proudly displayed the catspaw mark emblazoned on her flank.
The mother’s irritation vanished in a flash, swept away by tears of joy as she grasped her daughter and brought her to her chest in a crushing hug.
“A Soul Mark!” The mother wept. “My daughter has a Soul Mark! Come, come! We must be away to the palace at once! Lord Mystalicus has decreed that all newly marked ponies are to be honoured. Come, come, we must hurry. And then to your grandfather, for he will be as overjoyed as I, and shower you in gifts.”
Over the day, Lekos and Cretos saw several other older foals, or young mares and stallions with soul marks, still fresh from the ceremonial garb they wore that showcased their marks for all to see.
“How many is that, brother?” Asked Lekos.
“Ten, at least,” answered Cretos, his shoulders stiffening in shock.
“Who would ever thought there would be so many newly marked in a single city. What is going on? What games do the gods play to heap such honours on filthy Athens so suddenly? Worshipers of one of the traitor-gods deserve only scorn. Yet, here they are, receiving in numbers unheard, the blessings of the gods.”
“It is troubling, and Princess Dapolleta will say we have learned enough. Let us return and inform her of what we have discovered.”
“Nay, not yet. The princess commanded we learn the truth behind the rumours of the gods taking new favour on Athens, and we have yet to determine whether it is flights of fancy caused by this rash of new soul marks that the Athenians believe themselves blessed, or whether the mighty gods have come to dwell among mortals. She will be angered if we return too soon. Come, let us go to the temple. There we will learn the truth.”
Nodding at his brother’s logic, Cretos followed Lekos towards the temple of Athena.
As they neared the theater at the base of the hill, they noticed the crowd grow thicker, with many ponies milling about to gawk at something. Pushing their way through where the crowd was thickest, they could see a space up ahead, but not make out what was in it.
“What is going on?” Lekos asked the pony next to him.
The mare looked up at him, avoiding his eyes and blushing a little, and said, “Lady Hera has challenged Lady Rarity again. Today they are playing a game the benevolent Rarity, in her boundless wisdom, called ‘Gin Rummy’. They are over yonder at that table, for all to see, in the sun’s warm embrace.”
Lekos craned his neck, the crowd parted just a little, and he beheld a curious sight. At the center of the crowd sat Rarity and Hera at a table. Behind each were a pair of ponies, Trixie and Hypocemia with Rarity, Maia and Electra with Hera. Between them, acting as a judge or referee, was Chryseis in her white robes.
The two great alicorns were fixated at something placed on the table between them. Each held little slips in their aura that they studied with great attention. Tongue sticking out of the side of her mouth, Hera lifted a card from the top of a pile on the table, floated it to the others she already held, and groaned.
Smiling, Rarity took the next card, and with a flourish, declared, “Rummy!”
The crowd gasped, oo’d, and whispered loudly about how marvelously Rarity played.
In an authoritative voice, Chryseis called out, “The winner is Rarity Belle, Goddess of Beauty and Generosity,” to which the crowd cheered and stamped their hooves.
Hurling her cards on the table, Hera’s face puffed up, and she shouted, “No fair! No fair! You always choose strange games! Well, tomorrow it is my choice, and I’ll beat you!” Before leaping from her chair and flying off deeper into the city.
Giving Rarity sheepish smiles, Maia and Electra bowed their heads, and then took off to follow their mistress.
Shaking her head, Rarity gathered up the playing cards, and then passed them to a nearby group of foals. They squealed with delight and then ran off.
“Well, that was a delightful diversion,” Rarity said as she magic the table away with a swish of her horn. “I’m going to visit Piraeus for a little while. Mystalicus asked me to show him more about Equestrian ship-building. Is there anything you’d like me to get while I’m there, Trixie?”
Trixie thought a moment, and then replied, “No,” with a shrug.
“You should be careful, Lady Rarity,” Chryseis teased, “You’ll become the Goddess of Shipwrights too, at this rate.”
Laughing, Rarity waved a dismissive hoof. “My knowledge is very general, I assure you darling. My mother knows a sight more than me, as she’s been a captain since before I was foaled. I forgot all about the ship’s knees last week. If Mystalicus hadn’t noticed my mistake and spoken up, the prototype would have been a disaster. I’ll see you for dinner this evening.”
With that, Rarity spread her wings and took flight towards Piraeus.
“What of you, fair Trixie?” Chryseis turned her attention to Trixie as Rarity disappeared from sight.
Trixie again shrugged, and headed off along the road with no apparent destination in mind. Sighing, Chryseis shook her head and followed along with Hypocemia. Nodding to each other, Lekos and Cretos in turn followed the priestess.
“This malaise encasing your heart must end at some point, lest it consume you like a pride of lions feasting on your warm innards, teeth gnawing on hope, tongue licking out the marrow of joy until only a shell of a pony remains.”
“Well, there is a pleasant image,” Trixie huffed. “Trixie has told you, and those annoying princesses that she is fine!”
At the same moment a board fell flat with a crack that echoed along the lane. Trixie leapt several feet into the air, and landed with fur on end, mane sticking out as if she’d been struck by one of Zeus’ thunderbolts. Panting heavily, she snagged her hat from the air, and thrust it back on her head as tears welled in her eyes.
“Yes, as fine as a chicken with a fox in her coop, sharp teeth teasing the flesh of her exposed neck,” Chryseis clicked her tongue sadly.
Shooting the priestess a sour look, Hypocemia said, “Come now, wise Chryseis, your words are cruel, even if they are true.”
Chryseis bowed her head. “I speak only from a firm desire to see Trixie well. She has become a dear friend, as dear to me as you, lady Hypocemia, and I worry that she has been unable to overcome the demons plaguing her.”
At the word ‘demons’, Trixie sucked in a sharp breath and stumbled.
Hypocemia and Chryseis were with her in an instant, supporting Trixie on either side. They patted her gently, and soothed her with calming words until Trixie was able to continue.
Gently guiding Trixie towards the shade offered by awnings over several tables in front of a store, Hypocemia said, “Come, let us sit in the shade and have us some of that wonderful iced coffee Lady Rarity has blessed upon Athens. You have done well, my friend. This is longer than you have managed all these months outside the protection of your rooms. You should be proud to have conquered your fears.”
Body shaking, Trixie mutely allowed herself to be guided to a chair in a secluded corner of an area separated from the lane by a low fence. Lekos and Cretos took a table on the other side of the space. Only a few ponies occupied the tables, all from the upper class from their fine clothes and the presence of servants.
“Two hundred years, you know, it has been since one of the mighty gods has seen fit to reside among mortals. Spurned, they did, the entire disc, not just this vile city of traitors,” said one thickly bearded stallion from Ithaca, by the tunic he wore and his refined accent. Ithaca was a strong ally of Spartan these last many years, and his words drew scowls from the Athenians.
He was with several other travellers, his fellows nodding along as they sipped cups of some strong smelling beverage.
He continued thus, “You know it to be true. All ponies were denied the guidance of the gods by mighty Zeus. Look to Hera! In books and tapestries a mare of near unequaled beauty, whos qualities claimed the hearts of many, and yet, now a filly she has become, punished by Zeus for her role in sparking the war between the gods in which so many of their number fell by the craft or cunning of their cousins and siblings. Oh, rumours and legends aplenty say that the gods travel among us still, and that the cities of the victorious gods still hold favour is without doubt, while the likes of Athens continued to rot, unloved by the gods. But, in all these years, no sighting has ever been confirmed until now. Had I not seen Lady Hera and Lady Rarity with my own eyes, clear as those of the proud golden-plumed eagle as he flies, I would doubt it still. No more, no more, do I doubt. I am very glad indeed to have listened to my dear Penelope and undertaken this journey. A messenger she received that I was to go west to Athens, and here I would find a most majestic sight. The advice has been a blessing. I can safely say that I am among the first of Ithaca to see a god in two hundred years! And this drink! This Cough-Fee! Gifted to the world by sparkling maned Rarity! What a drink! I must find a way to bring this back to Ithaca.”
There were many similar sentiments, though few of the merchants had travelled as far as the stallion from Ithaca. It was amazing he’d reached the city so fast, Ithaca being very distant, and would have had to leave for Athens almost the day Rarity and Hera took residence in the city.
As he was panning his head around, Lekos caught Chryseis’ gaze, the two locking eyes for the span of two, interminable heartbeats. He nodded to her, trying to appear in wonder of the city, and she gave a slight smile. Leaning in towards Hypocemia, she shared a secret whisper and the pair tittered like songbirds in the boughs of a tree.
The trio of mares stayed at the market-side cafe for some time, enjoying the little porcilian cups of steaming black liquid brought to them with pleasant smiles. Lekos and Cretos looked at the cups with shock. They’d never seen such finely made cups, so small and thin with elegant curves and gold trimming, delicate flowers painted in blues and pinks on white sides, so different from the stoutly limbed cups in blacks, golds, and reds to which the brothers were accustomed. And then there was the coffee itself, bitter and harsh on the tongue, sending a jolt of vitality straight to the head like a bolt of lightning hurled by Zeus.
Mimicking the ponies around them, the brothers used small silver spoons to add little heaps of white powder, and poured a dollop of cream into the cups. The flavours and textures were transformed, a sweetness mingling with the bitter after-notes in a creamy dance along the tongue.
“Astounding,” Cretos cried out, looking in shock at his now empty cup. “Is this nectar? I must have more.”
Engrossed in their coffee, the brothers almost failed to notice their quarry depart. Hurriedly they paid and slipped after the mares as they made their way through the market. They stopped at plenty of stalls, commenting on the fine goods displayed, and marvelling at the treasures entering the city from distant lands. It was a cornucopia of delights for the young mares so used to drudgery and the oppressive weight of the Spartan siege.
Lekos began to worry. It was difficult to find reasons to continue to follow the mares without drawing suspicion. More and more it was obvious that he was following them. He began to sweat, and felt that the mares were drawing him and his brother further afield. Indeed, they left the market and its bustle, entering a long lane that ran parallel to the city walls where there were homes for the lower castes. These were dwellings for the trades workers and craftsponies, meager affairs of a couple rooms and a kitchen all crammed together.
Turning a corner, Lekos found himself confronted by the mares.
Chryseis stood at the head of the group, a frown etched on her face as deep as the ocean’s ravines and hooves planted wide, and demanded in a voice that cracked like a whip, “Stallions should not slink like snakes through thick grass, heads low and timid, plotting to strike at the hock when a pony turns their back. Such gross cowardice is unbefitting any who’d offer prayers to the gods. For what purpose do you follow us like you were our own shadows?”
Quick glances showed the brothers that they were alone in the street for the moment. The city walls were only a short distance away, the blue plumes of the guards patrolling the walls peaking out above the rooftops.
“You are foolish,” Cretos grunted as he touched upon his magic. His and his brothers spears and shields appeared by their sides, the letter lambda painted in black over crimson hues. “Grab the priestess, I will take the princess.”
Lekos nodded, and no further words were needed between the brothers. Lekos lunged, spear driving towards Trixie’s throat, lethal intent pouring through his powerful shoulders. Trixie’s eyes widened, and in a flash she vanished, reappearing on top of a building to the side.
Her gross cowardice was as surprising as the speed of her spellwork. A mare with the ability to so proficiently produce a spell was unheard of outside Sparta, where the mares trained beside the stallions in martial and magical arts. Trixie was a chosen of a god, however, with a soul-mark of a star-tipped wand and swath of stars, and so her skill in magic was not as shocking as it would otherwise have been. That she would flee and leave behind Chryseis and Hypocemia rankled Lekos’ heart, and he sneered at Trixie as he reversed his spear and brought the blunt end against Chryseis’ temple, knocking the priestess out in a single blow before she could react.
Abandoned by Trixie, and with Chryseis unconscious, Hypocemia let out a shriek and ran. At a full gallop she sped towards the city walls, and what she assumed would be the help of the guards. Throwing Chryseis’ limp form over his back, Lekos followed behind Cretos, pausing only long enough to snort in Trixie’s direction.
She stood, frozen in fright on the edge of the roof, face pale in the sunlight as her eyes darted between the ponies in the street. Body shaking, she raised a hoof as if pleading for Chryseis and Hypocemia to return.
The chase rounded a corner, and Trixie vanished from sight. Lekos made for the ramp to the walltop, while Cretos gave chase along the bottom of the wall. Hypocemia dashed as fast as her hooves could carry her, while Cretos moving as swiftly as the mountain falcon, swiftest of all birds, began to catch her. They rounded another corner, and Lekos lost sight of the fleeing princess and his brother. He had to slow as a pair of guards drawn by the commotion approached.
They were Mulius and Echeclus, and had long served Athens as soldiers and guards. With his shield Lekos smashed Echeclus in the jaw, shattering the bone and casting him bodily from the wall to land in a tangled heap in Hades’ halls. Mulius cried out in surprise and reached for his warning horn to summon all the guards on Lekos’ head. Before the horn could be brought to his lips Lekos struck him in the side of the head with his spear, the bronze spearhead bursting out the other side. Having dealt with the guards Lekos ran to the wall’s edge and lowered Chryseis’ limp body down the side. When she’d been deposited in the trench beneath the wall, Lekos turned back to see how his brother fared in catching the princess.
Cretos had chased Hypocemia into a dead-end where a group of foals were playing. Hypocemia came to a sharp halt, hooves skidding in the loose stones, and Cretos was upon her at once. The cause of her stopping was frozen mid-act of playing ‘tag’ with a group of foals, Hera’s hoof half-raised to tap a colt on the nose as the foals stared at the newcomers. Of Maia and Electra there was no sight.
“What is the meaning of this?” Hera demanded, fluffing up her wings like an angry peacock.
Cretos answered in actions, grabbing Hypocemia in his aura before dashing towards the city walls. Hypocemia kicked and yelled, but her struggles were fruitless. Cretos bounded up the ramp as Lekos urged him on. Along the walls rushed many more guards with spears sharpened and shields locked, shouting for Lekos and Cretos to halt.
With a flick of her wings, Hera launched herself into the sky, flipped over the wall, and hovered on the far side with hooves crossed and a sour frown on her face.
“Stop!” Hera commanded.
Cretos skidded to a halt, his chest heaving, and looked to Lekos for guidance.
Lekos was at a loss. They were surrounded, and death was certain if they stayed. Yet, they had to obey the commands of a goddess, especially Hera, who was the queen of the gods, and as such, queen over all ponies.
At the fringes of perception a stern voice growled, “Lekos, I grant you the indomitable might of the elephant to crush all who seek to bar your way. Go forth with my blessing, and dominate mine enemies.”
Power filled Lekos’ chest, and his heart swelled with fresh strength. A mighty surge of magic coursed through sinew and bone. He felt stronger than he’d ever felt before, his body trembling with barely contained energies. His skin tingled at the gentle touch of the afternoon breeze in electric currents. A flash of light encapsulated Lekos’ flanks as the symbol of an elephant’s head in profile appeared in black within a red circular shield.
A similar light touched Cretos’ flanks, the image of a regal lion appearing on his smooth fur, his own eyes going wide with wonder.
Hera’s jaw tensed with barely contained fury. “Ares, son of my former existence, you dare?!”
Over the wall echoed a low, rumbling, disembodied laugh.
“Olympus demands your return, ‘mother’.”
Mane roiling like flames across a dry field, she turned to Hypocemia. Eyes turning silver with channeled aether, Hera intoned in a booming voice, “Hypocemia, I grant you with the swiftness of the swooping falcon, and the grace of the prowling leopard! Go forth with my blessing, and smite mine enemies.”
Hypocemia’s flanks flared with eldritch energies, and when the light passed there was emblazoned the image of a diving falcon within a cat’s paw. She blinked, stifled a gasp, and swept away Cretos’ magic holding her.
Bedlam exploded atop the city walls.
Lekos charged into the nearest guards, new spells and formidable magics roiling at the surface of his mind, pleading for release. His skin turned into an iron hardness, so that the Athenians’ bronze headed spears sparked off his chest as they would the mightiest armour. Blows from his hooves shattered the Athenian’s shields, and his spear pierced through their armour and soft flesh beneath as if they’d been made of straw. Titius, son of Lartus, and Helpos he struck down first, and quickly Targenom, Memnar, and Keletos were sent thereafter to Tartarus. More filled the gaps, the Athenians roused by indignation and rage, seeking to bring down the newly anointed champion. These too Lekos waded among.
While Lekos dispatched his enemies, Cretos and Hypocemia fought a short distance away. He pounced and she sprang away just out of his reach. Spinning about she struck, a hoof connecting with his jaw, and finding it unyielding to her blow. Hypocemia darted back, shifting from hoof to hoof, before striking again, this time with magic. Her aura took on the form of a spectral leopard’s paw, and racked its claws across Cretos’ sides. He leapt back just in time, the claws cutting shallow lines through his new soul-mark. Roaring with rage and adrenaline, he surged towards Hypocemia, his horn alight with magic. They met in a clash of sparking aether, the walls torn up around them as the champions’ spells slammed into each other. Back and forth they went, neither able to gain the advantage as wild bursts of aether lashed deep gouges in the stone. Yelling Hera’s name, Hypocemia dug into deep reserves of magic even she’d never known herself to possess and began to push Cretos towards the edge of the wall. Planting his hooves wide, Cretos roared in response and rose to meet the challenge. Again it looked like a stalemate, when Trixie appeared next to Hypocemia in a flash and added her own magic to Hypocemia’s, and the tide was decidedly turned in their favour. Grunts lodged in his throat, Cretos’ legs began to buckle.
“Go! Inform Dapolleta of what we learned!” Cretos shouted to his brother.
Lekos hesitated, ready to join his brother in fighting Hypocemia and Trixie.
In the near distance, a brilliant white spec sped closer and closer. Rarity had returned to Athens.
“Go!” Cretos repeated.
Nodding his understanding, Lekos bounded over the side of the walls, landing thirty lengths down with a heavy thud that resonated up his stout legs. Quickly he grabbed Chryseis and dashed away. Spears hurled from the wall rained down about him as he galloped, but all missed their mark.
He crested a hill, and was met by an incredible sight of plumed helmets of crimson and gold. A sea of Spartans marched in rigid lines, and at their head was an imposing mass of muscles and chiseled chin. Every son of Sparta was present in their finest armour, with spear and shield polished and oiled. Sixteen phalanxes, supported by thirty-thousand irregulars from the surrounding subsidiaries stood in radiant glory in the slanting rays of the afternoon sun. Chariots rumbled along the wings, and in the near-distance mighty siege engines were being erected.
And there, at the head of the sea of soldiers, was Ares, son of Zeus and Hera, the God of Slaughter, stood twice the height of the tallest stallion. He radiated with martial dominance, and his eyes burned with a cold intensity. Near his side was Dapolleta, the Princess of Sparta grinning wide in anticipation of the coming siege. Her gaze continually flickered to the giant alicorn, lustful yearning bright in her eyes.
Slowing, Lekos bowed deep to his god, and then nodded to his princess before slipping into the Spartan’s ranks with his prize. Dapolleta greeted him warmly, ordering food and wine to be brought for the new hero of Sparta.
Eyes fluttering open, Chryseis gave a stifled gasp and bit her lip to hold back her tears.
Stopping at the hill’s peak Ares raised his voice in a boom that carried as far as Piraeus’ docks. “Hera! Rarity! Olympus demands your presence!”
Dropping down from the sky, Hera and Rarity stood on the open plains between the Spartans and Athens.
“Enough games,” Ares intoned in a brassy growl addressing Hera. “Return home.”
“I have yet to properly trounce Rarity. I refuse to let her be the winner,” Hera replied with a shake of her head. “Besides, I am finding Athens to be rather fun. I think I will stay a while longer and see what—”
Ares slashed the air with a wing, and a mighty gust blew across the plains, buffeting the Athenians lining the walls. “Zeus forbade it.”
“Listen, darling, there is no need for anger or violence,” Rarity stepped up to Ares. He regarded her coldly. “Why don’t you join us for some tea? No? How about coffee? Or, maybe you’d prefer wine? Nevermind, what is important is that we settle this dispute without involving the ponies of Athens.”
“Foolish,” Ares shook his head, frown growing deeper. “Come to Olympus.”
“I see no reason to go to Olympus,” Rarity gave a pleasant smile and flipped a hoof as if the answer should have been obvious. “My friends are here in Athens, and they have been kind enough to set me up in Athena’s old temple while I look for a way home. Soon as I am able, I will be out of your mane and on my way.”
“Irrelevant.” Ares launched the word as he would a spear. “Zeus forbade alicorns from residing among mortals.”
“Yes, yes, and he also forbade us from fighting each other!” Hera stamped a hoof. “Alicorns can’t fight alicorns, anymore! The last time we warred, nearly half our number were slain in the conflict. So, you can go back to Olympus on your own and tell the others to have a little patience! I am Hera, and I am their queen! They must listen to me!”
“You are not their queen.” Ares began to smile and leaned over Hera. His gaze burrowed into Hera, forcing her to back up a half-step. “Zeus divorced the true Hera when he punished her. You are her pale replacement. A shadow of her greatness. ‘Hera’ in name only.”
Trembling in impotent rage, Hera jabbed a hoof at Ares, unleashed a tangle of sputtered gibberish, and then let out a shriek.
“Really?” Rarity cast a look at Hera, “He can’t actually fight us?”
Hera nodded mutely as she fought to suppress her anger. Rarity relaxed a little more, and even giggled. “Well then, as soon as you return my friend, you can be on your way.”
Turning his attention back to Rarity, Ares intoned, “No.”
“Excuse me?” Rarity tilted her head, and narrowed her own eyes into menacing slits.
“Why should she be returned?” Ares smirked, a hard glint to his cold eyes. “Lekos risked flesh and blood entering an enemy city, and returned with a prisoner. His valour drew my gaze, and earned my blessing. What reason does he have to give up his prize?”
“Prize?” Rarity fumed, her passions roused so that her mane danced like roaring flames. “Ponies are not prizes! She isn’t even a soldier! She is a civilian, an innocent bystander! Honestly, before arriving on Gaea I never imagined such brutish behaviour from ponies who consider themselves civilised. The pinnacle of law and understanding my tail!”
Ares chuckled. “Such is the dialogue of war. Sparta is strong, Athens is weak.”
“Well then, if it is something he wants in exchange,” Rarity ground the words through clenched teeth, “I will grant him a boon, as you so-called gods call them, for her return. How does that sound?”
Rarity smiled, thinking the offer something no pony of Sparta or Athens would refuse. Hera gave her a slack-jawed stare, confirming her guess.
“Unless a pony is worth more than a gift from an alicorn,” Rarity added, needling the words with a little twist right at Lekos.
Lekos stayed silent, as did the rank upon rank of Spartan warriors observing the conversation. He looked slowly towards Ares, who remained silent as he thought, his gaze slowly drifting from Rarity to a cloud of dust crossing the plains towards where the gods conversed.
From Athens approached a small contingent of armed stallions on chariots pulled by stout earth ponies. Mystalicus rode beside Argentes, and together marshaled their Athenian warriors. Next to them was Menestheus, son of Peteos, who was master of Athens’ chariots and drilled them to be an effective force on the plains that surrounded the city. With them was Hypocemia, flush with victory and her new soul-mark, shouting for the stallions to go faster, a cape of regal purple tossed over her withers and decked in armour of shining bronze. In the chariot with Hypocemia rode Trixie.
The Spartans tensed in anticipation of battle, short and one-sided as it would be, with tens of thousands of Spartans against a scant few Athenians, but a gesture by Ares kept them in position. He returned his attention to Rarity with a sour grimace.
“You are a fool. A boon from you is worthless,” Ares responded after weighing Rarity with his cold gaze. “She will remain a hostage, and you will come to Olympus. You will do this to keep her safe, if you truly care for the mortals as you claim. Or, you can break Zeus’ command and attempt to claim her yourself, and I will destroy you.”
Rarity nodded after thinking for a moment. “Alright, but with one condition; Sparta leaves Athens alone. I won’t have these ponies harmed because of me. Let me speak with my… attendant, and we will go to Olympus.”
“What of you, ‘Hera’?”
Still fuming, Hera marched up beside Ares, crossed her hooves, and sat down with a ‘harrumph’.
Turning to the chariots, now slowing to discharge their riders, Rarity calmed herself. Stepping towards Trixie and the others, she gave them all a calming smile. “Trixie, darling, I’m going to Olympus for a short while.”
Panic flushed Trixie’s face, her lips tightening as she let out a low wail. “No! What if they follow us? What if they find me while you are gone? You’ll be safe, but Trixie?”
Rarity laid a calming wing against Trixie’s cheek. The Spartans gasped and fidgeted, while the Athenians, accustomed to Rarity’s odd ways, grinned at the Spartans’ discomfort.
“Yes, and our friends will make certain you stay that way, and you have to do the same for them. Our journey’s just have to go separate ways for a while.” Drawing Trixie into a hug, Rarity held her close and whispered, “For all our friends. You can do this, Trixie. I believe in you. Rescue Chryseis.”
Breaking the hug, she made certain to hold Trixie’s gaze. Dreadful terror welled in Trixie’s eyes, tears building until almost rolling down her cheeks. There were no promises, no acknowledgement or boisterous assurances; just a broken mare who desperately wanted to do the right thing, but was frozen under the weight of the horrors inflicted on her soul.
Rarity wanted to weep for Trixie. The brash mare who’d saved her in Tartarus was gone, and she wasn’t certain if she’d ever return.
“Well, Trixie, just take it easy. I’ll see you all again soon, I promise.” Rarity shifted to the Athenians. “Thank you all for your generous hospitality. Oh, and Mystalicus, darling, remember the ship’s knees need to be a bit larger to support the additional weight of the masts. The diagrams are in my room. Hypocemia knows where. Follow the instructions carefully.”
Mystalicus bowed, and said he understood, and would make certain the project was finished in her honour. After saying goodbye to Hypocemia, Rarity joined Ares and Hera. The Athenians leapt back onto their chariots and sped back to Athens, while the Spartans turned towards their ships.
In a flash of Ares’ magic, the trio of alicorns teleported to Olympus.
Back in the Temple of Athena, Maia and Electra looked at each other, sighed, and went back to braiding their manes, promising they’d return to Olympus soon.