The Rariad
By Tundara
15: Gaea
The mighty craftmaster, Hephaestus, the God of the Forge, and his gorgeous wife, Aphrodite, the Goddess of Love, made their home in possibly the most inhospitable place on all of Gaea.
Craggy cliffs jutted out into choppy seas all along the eastern edge of the island, dropping off deep into dark blue waters without any beach or seafloor on which to land a galley or weigh anchor. Here and there lava flows left lumpy black mounds, cracked by golden-orange fissures glowing with inner heat that slowly dimmed, that ran in thick rivers to the cliff’s edge where they poured off into the pounding waves. On either side of the cooling rivers jagged growths of volcanic rocks formed dark teeth, giving the impression of the cliff being the bottom jaw of some colossal skull grinning at whoever approached the island.
Away from the mountain, along the western shores, several small towns clung to the land. They offered prayers to Poseidon and Hephaestus in equal measure, always at risk of being swept into the sea and lost like so many other communities before them.
Flames half a mile high spurted from the top of mount Etna with every strike of Hephaestus’ hammer upon his aurichalcum anvil. Lightning crackled within the plume of ash and cinders sent up by the billows of the forge in wild tongues of red and purple. It was a common occurrence, and they thought nothing of the sight having survived so long in its presence.
Having never seen such a thing before, Rarity found her voice falter and mouth go dry at the spectacle and ringing thrumm of the hammer blows many, many miles away. Orbiting in her magic around her like the sun and moon around the disc, the Muses let out little ‘Oohs’ of joy.
Rarity banked into a long turn. Somewhere below, in the heart of the mountain, she could sense Hephaestus and Aphrodite. Rather than doing nothing to hide their presence, as other alicorns who’d snuck away from Olympus to play among the mortals, they did everything they could to let everypony know where they were, and that they were aware of everything around their island home. Such was their aura that even mortal ponies could detect it in crawling waves beneath the skin for leagues around the mountain.
Near the base of the mountain Rarity caught the flash of sunlight on metal. Swiftly she descended to where a small valley ended, landing right before a towering pair of golden doors set into a cliff face. On the left side door were carved intricate depictions of Hephaestus at work in his forge, hammering out new creations, bent over a desk as he poured over new designs, or tinkering on his many marvels, while the right held many images of Aphrodite surrounded by ocean and shell motifs, all lovingly carved so that they were a hundred times as wondrous as those on the other door.
Placed before the doors was a sign that simply read, ‘No Solicitors’.
Lifting an eyebrow, Rarity went to the large brass door knocker, raised it, and let it fall.
A resounding clang rang across the island, and the flames atop the mountain spurted higher for a moment.
Not even a moment passed before the doors were flung open, and in the darkened portal stood Aphrodite, her shimmering pink eyes sharp as broken glass and far more dangerous.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the new Goddess of Beauty,” The Goddess of Love snapped her tail like a tamer would a whip at a lion. “For what purpose do you run from holy Olympus, upsetting Hera and so many others by your sudden and rude departure, making you among the worst of guests? Do you seek to grow fat off my own generosity and then slip off in the night without so much as a thank-you or offer to repay in kind when I visit you in your home, however distant it may be? Though, to me, it looks like you are fat already off the pleasures taken from Olympus.”
“Excuse me!?” Rarity snapped, taken aback by Aphrodite’s sudden and vitriolic tirade. “I have never been so—”
Before Rarity could go any further, Aphrodite’s eyes widened, and she gave a foalish squeal of absolute delight.
“Why! What is this? You bring to me the Muses! Oh, my precious little things, where ever have you been? We looked high and low, from the tops of the greatest peaks, to the deepest trenches in the ocean’s murky depths, and never did we see any sign of you. To Gaea herself we went, and she swore that she had no idea where you were to be found, that terrible liar. She knew, for she must have sensed you out there in the wide reaches of the disc, hidden as you must have been. But lo, hear me run on and natter when you stand out in the cold, and with rain coming so very soon no less. Come in, all of you, come in at once and we will serve you all manner of treats! Two hundred and fifty years worth! For that is how long you’ve been missing, you know.”
Rarity taken aback by Aphrodite’s sudden shift in demeanour. She hardly protested as she was hurried in through those towering doors and they slammed shut behind her.
“You must stay a while,” Aphrodite said as she guided her guests down a long tunnel leading deep into the mountain’s fiery heart.
Aphrodite and Hephaestus’ home was unlike any other on all Gaea. A broad lane of columns held up a natural formed roof, while the walls were covered in simple tapestries depicting the gods holy marks. By an ingenious placement of mirrors the hallway was lit by daylight with no use of torches or any magical lights. There were no doors or side passages, just a single, seemingly endless hallway that vanished into the distance. It had to be over a mile long with no break or variation. Yet, they’d gone no more than a few steps and they were at another set of doors. Looking back Rarity saw the same endless hallways stretched out now behind them. She hadn’t even felt the slightest tingle of teleportation, but that was all she could surmise as to how they’d crossed such a distance.
Throwing open the door, Aphrodite called out, “Dear husband, look! It is the Muses, returned to us at long last! Little Aoide, precious Melete, and delightful Mneme, back from where they’d been hidden.”
Sitting at a narrow table, the God of the Forge didn’t so much as glance away from his work.
He was a small stallion, with wiry shoulders and a slender build, that looked nothing like the imposing figure depicted in statues and art across Gaea. His thin, coal black mane was cut short so that it wouldn’t fall in his eyes or get caught as he worked, and even his tail was docked. Wire framed glasses sat perched on the end of his nose, with several lenses creating a magnifying effect.
“Oh, good,” Hephaestus rumbled in a surprisingly deep voice for his little stature. “Have them put it by the door and give them a gold coin as a tip.”
“No, the Muses, husband,” Aphrodite cried in exasperation. “It is the Muses, not a spirit delivering your supplies of scrap metals.”
“Zeus is? Zeus is what?” He still didn’t look up, but picked up a pair of delicate tweezers and other utensils Rarity recognised as used by clock-makers.
Stifling an exasperated shriek, Aphrodite put on a smile and said, “Oh, never mind. Come to the garden when you are done with your latest toy.” Aphrodite started to shoo the Muses from the room, but stopped as Rarity edged a little closer to the table to see what was being made.
Coming up behind Hephaestus, Rarity craned her head to get a better look at the hoofball sized object, with twelve sides, and an intricate series of clockwork gears and springs inside. Sticking his tongue out the side of his mouth as he concentrated, Hephaestus slid in a miniscule wire, wound it around a spoke, and then attached it to a rotating gear set into one of the object’s faces.
“There!” Hephaestus exclaimed, clapping his hooves together as he sat up and stretched out his wings, which were extremely long and of polished bronze.
He spun the faces of the object as if he were winding a watch, and then set it down on the floor. From within came a soft clicking and tick of whirling gears. After a moment it’s faces popped open and light came from within, painting the room in blues, greens, pinks, and silvers, coalescing and swimming until they darkened and the roof was painted with a nightscape dominated by a full moon.
A piano began to play, slow and melancholy, weighed down by a terrible longing sadness that made Rarity’s heart ache. The music was beautiful, as were the images of ghostly clouds gliding over the conjured moon. And then, in the illusions cast by the object, a mountain emerge, very similar in shape to the Canterhorn on Ioka, but mangled by the ravages of war, one side of her mauled and smoking, with vestiges of what had been an artificial plateau of some city or fortress clinging desperately in death to a ravaged mountainside. The music grew sadder still, slower, heavier. Rarity’s vision began to swim with tears. A final, poignant note sounded and the clouds closed in around the mountain and the city remnants vanished into the night.
The device grew silent and flipped shut.
Hephaestus clicked his tongue and shook his head.
“No good, no good. Will have to start over. What am I missing? Hmmm…” He began to turn back towards his desk, but was stopped as Rarity grabbed him by the shoulders.
“Darling, that is one of the most beautiful things I’ve seen in a very long time! How did you layer the runes? What was that song? And the scenery! It’s been a while since I’ve seen a moving picture, darling, and that one was breathtaking in its clarity. Usually they are so fuzzy.”
“Runes?” Hephaestus blinked a couple times from behind his magnifying glasses. “Pah! Any fool mortal enchanter can make a music-picture box. It takes a true master to make one without a single rune. This is entirely mechanical engineering.”
Rarity was flabbergasted. She’d met many engineers and enchanters in her time trying to enter Canterlot’s business scene, and none of them could generate illusions without at least a dozen different spells worked into the device. And it was so small, easily a quarter the size of the complicated mechanical motion-picture projectors with their reels of thin tape, which still needed a magically driven motor to operate and provide the light to cast the images on a blank sheet of canvass.
“And sadly it is as flawed as the others. I just don’t know where I have gone wrong,” Hephaestus continued as Rarity gaped in shock.
“Flawed?”
“Yes! I can’t stop that incessant click, and there is a fractional delay between the start of the second movement and the appearance of the mountain. I just can’t seem to get this right.” He made to stomp on the wonderful device, but with a cry, Aoide leapt forward and snatched it up, holding it close to her chest.
Aphrodite stood silent in the open door, her head turned away so none of her guests could witness the immense sadness on her face, and the tears that wished to be shed, but couldn’t for another fifty years.
Moving his glasses so they rested on his fluted horn, Hephaestus squinted at Rarity and the Muses. “Wait, who are you and how in Tartarus’ moldy crevices did you get into my workshop?”
Smiling politely, Rarity introduced herself and the muses, but before she could begin to explain the purpose of her visit, Hephaestus gave a stern nod, said, “Oh, if that is all, then piss off,” and bent back over his desk, already dismissing them from his thoughts.
Rarity was flabbergasted at his utter rudeness and lack of any decoram. Her hackles raised, and acid words danced on the tip of her tongue like venom dripping from a serpent's fangs. How anypony who was so crude could make something so beautiful eluded her.
“But—”
“Come, let us leave him to his work,” Aphrodite interjected, and such was the steel core to her voice that Rarity didn’t offer any arguments. “There is nothing to be gained pressing him now, and everything for you to lose if his ire is roused, which can bubble in hiding like the heart of a volcano to explode just as violently.”
Head raised high, Rarity glided from the room. “I see why nopony in Olympus fought to bring him back to the city.”
The hallway beyond shifted again, this time Rarity detecting the subtle alteration in the air as they were either teleported, or by some hidden means the hallway reconfigured itself so that only a few steps brought them to a new door that lead into a pleasant garden hidden somewhere high on the volcano’s slopes, west facing so as to bask in the afternoon sun.
All manner of small creatures and lush plants filled the relatively small space centered around a single apple tree. The flowers were of every vibrant hue, and the birdsong angelic in its peaceful quality. Five benches were laid out just so in the tree’s shade, two that were larger for Rarity and Aphrodite, and three that were smaller for the Muses on which they could lounge. Between each bench was placed a bowl of fresh fruit along with a golden cup filled with sweet nectar. To these Aphrodite directed her guests.
Aoide continued to play with the music box while Aphrodite and Rarity talked.
“So, what is it you desire my husband to make, though I have a good guess, and if it is accurate, you will be sorely disappointed.”
“A Golden Gate, I believe they are called. One that links Gaea to Ioka.”
“You would subject your home to the whims of the Olympians?” Aphrodite at once gasped and covered her mouth. “My, you are either the most brave of mare, ever confident in her home’s ability to stave off the Olympians when you have roused them to such an ire as to make sweep away Athens in flames and flood, though you manage to stem any of the city’s former inhabitants deaths for the time being by your generous warnings. I have been watching them with some interest, as Athens was the particular pride of dear Athena, and they head towards Delos on the swiftest of currents sent by dear Poseidon, who I convinced to aid them just this day past.”
“Darling, surely it isn’t all that dangerous?” Rarity asked stiffly. “Once I am gone, would they even bother with Ioka?”
“Oh, but of course they would, as would I rush with all haste to find those lost to us in those dark nights! Ioka has become refuge for those who fled the destruction promised here on Gaea, whisked away by Astraea’s desperate final act to a place we could then not follow. You have never met Niomedes, who is Artemis and Apollo’s equals when it comes to the bow as she is the Goddess of the Hunt, but she would fly with all the speed of the winds to Ioka in order to track down those who escaped her, as it has been a wound on her pride that they escaped her all these many years. Ares too would follow, as you slighted him so publicly. But, worst of all, would be if Zeus caught wind of such blessed news as to where his daughters had found refuge. Even now he scours the many worlds searching for them to bring them home, and he would overturn your world in order to bring them back to Olympus.”
Rarity’s mouth went a little dry, and she said, “Hades and Zeus already know about Ioka. I remember vaguely being taken to them, and they went through a golden gateway. But, that was many years ago now! I really have to get home now.”
A large lump of worry for everypony back home lodged itself in her chest. She thought of Pinkie Pie and Applejack, of Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash, and of Twilight. She thought of her sister, mother, and father, and her worry grew greater still. Her friends she had every confidence could surmount any obstacles, but her sister and family, they were just regular ponies.
“Is there really no way to convince Hephaestus to build a new gate?”
“Not until he finishes his current work.”
“But, darling, there must be something I can do?”
“You… maybe. You are the Goddess of Beauty and have with you the Muses. It is possible that you together will be able to help him find that missing spark he seeks to complete his—”
“Worry not a moment longer, dear mother!” The Muses leapt to their hooves in unison. “We will aid Hephaestus!”
Before Rarity or Aphrodite could stop them, the Muses had dashed from the garden, a jaunty song on their tongues and summoned music bouncing on an ephemeral breeze.
“Well now, since they are getting up to their usual mischief, let us get down to our own business. I will be as blunt as my husband is acerbic; I do not like you, Rarity of Ioka. Do not interrupt, for I will truly grow cross, and the curses I lay torment through the generations.” Aphrodite raised a silencing wing as Rarity bristled. “You are shallow and self-centered for a pony who expounds on the virtue of generosity, only taking what actions that will go least against your interests or time. You have not even attempted to understand Gaea, but fought against our ways when you are the stranger here, and waged a private war with Hera. All of which makes you more like us Gaeans than you would deign to admit. You put Athens in great danger twice, and doomed the city, congratulating yourself for deceiving Ares when you have done no such thing. The Athenians are doomed to become a lost tribe, one way or the other, ill-fated to wandering homeless until the last one falls gasping in the dirt.”
“Only if your husband doesn’t make the gate,” Rarity countered, laying out her plans for the Athenians.
Aphrodite’s eyes went wider still, and she tossed back her head with a laugh that sounded like bubbled with delighted amusement. “You are bolder than I ever imagined, and mad as a wild hare. None on Gaea would have thought to take an entire city with them through a sacred gate. But, Ares will not make it easy for you, and this is if you manage to convince my husband to construct a gate, who is as stubborn as the mountains.”
“Oh, darling, I am confident that I’ll be able to convince him to make the gate. The Fates themselves told me so,” Rarity then recounted the prophecy given to her in Olympus.
Aphrodite listened to it with a cocked ear. “Interesting, indeed, but also full of vaguary, like the shape of a wolf deep in the shadows of a forest at night, stalking you with promises of a terrible future, but perhaps, it is merely cast by a wayward dog, and all fears are for naught. They say you would come here, and so you have, and that my husband’s hammer would, ‘ring loud’, which would indicate that he is to undertake some great project caused by your arrival. I do see how you have come to suspect that my husband, who is the greatest craftmaster in all creation, with a mind as brilliant as the most perfect diamonds, is to reforge his gate. However, Hephaestus never remakes an invention, but moves on to the next idea that grasps his mind. The gates are old works from when the worlds were new-born and travel between them required. They are hardly needed anymore.”
“Do you know of a better way to get a city of mortals from one world to another, never mind myself and Trixie?” Rarity countered.
“No, and the pathways open to you are very few indeed, this much is true as you have managed to anger or spurn all those who could have provided you any sort of passage. A new gate does make sense, and you are a goddess. Manipulation and tricking stallions into doing our whims is as natural for us as breathing is for mortals. But, as I said before, you will find my husband a far greater challenge than you can yet imagine.”
“I-I didn’t mean seduction, I meant, oh, nevermind!” Rarity threw up her wings as Aphrodite laughed again at her discomfort.
Aphrodite’s predictions were far too accurate. Hephaestus turned out to be a greater challenge than Rarity’s worst fears. It was impossible to annoy him into doing what she wanted as she had the Diamond Dogs who briefly thought to use her gem-finding magic. Whining, petulance, tears, a quivering lower lip; all were futile weapons. As were reason, bargaining, or any of the myriad tricks she’d had to learn in order to navigate the world of business.
Seduction was instantly rejected for a host of reasons, not least of which it made Rarity’s skin crawl. Batting an eyelash was one thing, but seduction? No. Never.
Her only recourse, it became clear very quickly, was if he finished his present project.
A project that was utterly beyond her understanding.
And so she decided the best course of action was to give him space and wait. Days turned into a week, and then two, then a month passed, and Hephaestus remained locked in his workshop, the only ponies allowed in his company the Muses. Aphrodite’s smug smile every morning only made Rarity’s frustration worse.
Rarity found herself in the uncomfortable position of being utterly incapable of taking even the first steps towards her goal. Many times she’d been trapped, or forced to stay put, but never when she’d had either a goal in mind or the means to achieve it. In Tartarus her mind and soul had been fractured, and the moment she’d been restored she had made the attempt at returning to Ioka. A foolish attempt, as it had led directly to her gilded cage in Amaymon. There it had been sinister politics and true intentions hidden behind honeyed smiles, a deadly game that had to be played under the gaze of one of the most wicked beings in all creation, and though it had been difficult and there’d been many set-backs, in the end she’d made good her escape. A part of her still wondered if even then he hadn’t opened the way for her, her escape part of some grander plot.
Unconsciously Rarity touched the jewels clasped about her throat.
She was still clasping it when the Muses came rushing through the kitchen, grabbing fruit juice and pancakes covered in honey and cheese. Smiling thinly as the fillies stuffed their faces with only a brief, “Morning, Rarity,” before bounding away, only Aoide lingering a little.
“Have you had any progress on manipulating Beauty?” She asked, her head tilted to one side, with a plate beside her piled high with her sticky breakfast.
“Oh. Yes. Tons.” Rarity lied, and made a shooing motion with her hoof. “Go and play with your sisters, Aoide.”
“If you need any help, give a shout and we will come at once.” Aoide shoved an entire pancake into her mouth, turned, and followed her sisters.
“They can see through you, you know,” Aphrodite yawned as she entered the kitchen.
The Goddess of Love was most decidedly not a morning pony. Her mane was a mess, stray hairs poking out from the tight buns she kept it in when she slept, and thick bags under her eyes. She went straight to the stove, one of Hephaestus’ many designs that filled their home, twisted a knob to light the gas burners, and put on a pot of water to boil. From a cabinet she pulled a jar of coffee and her coffee press. She then did the one thing that utterly unnerved Rarity to no end; Aphrodite slapped a frying pan down next to the kettle, and into it she placed a thick strip of bacon. When it had finished sizzling to a nice, crisp exterior she tossed it onto a plate of her own, added two eggs to the fat still in the pan, cooked them over-easy, and then added them to a plate with a couple pieces of toasted bread.
“It is exceptionally delicious, you know,” Aphrodite offered as Rarity fought to keep the contents of her own breakfast down. “But I wish coffee had stayed my little secret. Did you have to share it with the mortals?”
“What am I doing here?” Rarity asked, quickly changing the subject and ignoring Aphrodite’s little jab. “I have no trouble seeing the fabric of Beauty. It was like second nature from the moment I woke up in Tartarus. So what if I have a little difficulty manipulating it. Honestly, I would never want to decide for other ponies what is or is not beautiful. Beauty is, after all, in the eye of the beholder.”
Chewing on a piece of meat, Aphrodite considered her for a moment. “You are so strange, like a lamb in love with a wolf. There is so much more to being an alicorn of the Intangible than you know. It is the most difficult of the three types of domain to possess, as perhaps you have come well to understand. Alicorns tied to aspects Physical or Emotional in nature have it much simpler. We are the Storms or Passions, the Seas or Bravery, and many, many more. While it is true that you Intangibles are the most common, you also have the largest number of alicorns that are weak in power, such as the Furies, though you do have great queens and kings among you number, such as yourself, Hera, and Phoebus-Apollo. As a Queen, there will be many subordinate alicorns who delve into aspects of Beauty that will look to you for guidance. It behooves you to live up to their expectations, and not shirk your responsibilities like a petulant filly.”
Rarity was silent, anger boiling just under the surface like the molten blood of the volcano. Aphrodite deposited her plate and glass into the automatic dishwashing device and went about the remainder of her day, which consisted mostly of lounging about her garden, using the pool in the middle to gaze upon her favoured mortals.
For the remainder of the day she fumed, pacing around her rooms, sitting down to design some dresses, and then scrunching up the parchment when they were too perfect, too beautiful, utterly flawless. There was no challenge or relief, no way to channel the emotions pressing against her chest; the frustrations at being trapped—again—, of Aphrodite’s continued antagonism, the longing to be home with her sister, to be done with Gaea, Amaymon, Tartarus, and all the other realms, and the gods that called them home.
She pounded a hoof on her desk, and it cracked. Groaning with yet another point of aggravation, Rarity snatched up her enchanted cloak, and decided that perhaps it would be best to take a flight around the island to cool down.
As she yanked the door to the enchanted hallway she was met by the Muses.
“Rarity! Rarity! It is the Benevolencians! They have reached Sparta at last, and have entered the city in the most curious manner!” The Muses gleefully shouted in unison as they darted about the garden. “They claim to be a circus, but one that travels! And they have a huge tent where they put on dazzling performances of tumbling, foolery, with athletic and martial displays! Oh, you have to see it for it to be believed!”
“A circus? I’ve seen a few,” Rarity brushed off the Muses enthusiasm as she started down the hallway.
“No! No! You can not understand! Though, how could you possibly? This is entirely new, a truly unique idea of Trixie, and it would have to have been god-sent, but Trixie belongs to you, and this is too silly and chaotic to be one of your creations.” Tutted Mneme loudly.
Rarity stopped, an eyebrow twitching in response, and her tail snapping like a lion tamer’s whip.
Taking in a deep breath to berate the Muses, Rarity was instead grabbed by them and pulled towards the garden, the Muses insisting she come see the circus.
Hardly glancing up from her scrying pond as the group entered the garden, Aphrodite said, “You are just in time. The games of chance have been set up in the fields, and the Spartans have taken to the Test of Strength, hitting that pad with that oversized mallet. As expected, Princess Dapoletta managed to make the bell ring. Ares gave her too much of his strength, I think.”
“How are they going to escape?” Aoide asked Aphrodite, bouncing along with her sisters as they watched. “Should we give them blessings? Like in the old days?”
“Yes, yes! Blessings! You should give them blessings, Aphrodite!” Intoned Mneme and Melete.
Aphrodite shook her head however. “These are not my heroes, but those sworn to Rarity. It is up to her to give or deny them blessings.”
“But, Rarity, though she be among the strongest of gods as any can tell with the merest glance, is terrible at giving blessings. The Oreads, those distant cousins who dwell in seclusion among the highest grottos of the mountains, keeping to themselves though they love mortal kind as any of the races of Nymphs, have more talent,” protested Aoide. “Please, you have to teach her how to bless a pony, or else we will be too embarrassed to ever leave our chambers again. Everypony will say that there go the Muses, who are indebted to the most useless of goddesses, unable to protect her most ardent followers.”
Rarity had to bite her tongue to hold back a wounded protest.
Pinching Aoide’s cheek, Aphrodite cooed loudly. “Oh, you have always known just how to please me. Very well, I will show her for your sake.”
With a swish of her majestic wing, Aphrodite cast the images held within the pool over Sparta, streets whisking by until she flicked open her pinions, and the image came to a stop. Within was Lertandes as he began his ascent up the walls towards where Chryseis was held.
“Yes, he will do nicely!” Aphrodite indicated that Rarity should come stand beside. “Give this brave stallion of Athens your blessing.”
“Darling, I don’t have the foggiest clue how to do that,” Rarity sharply protested.
Aphrodite sighed and shook her head, as did the Muses.
“Observe,” Aphrodite smiled, and Rarity could feel as Aphrodite extended her essence towards the pool, and whispered, “Dear Lertandes, brave son of Alconus, who has naught to offer but his valour, to you I grant the agility and speed of the dolphin, who serve as my messengers. Go, and save Chryseis, who you have always loved.”
There was a tiny pulse, almost entirely undetectable if Rarity hadn’t been observing Aphrodite so closely, that shot from the Goddess of Love into the pool, and into Lertandes. She smiled in satisfaction as a cutie mark burned itself onto his flank and the brave Athenian scaled the remainder of the wall. With a swish of her wing Aphrodite shifted the image back to the circus.
“Now, you need to find somepony who resonates with your domain. Beauty is a tricky thing at times, whimsical and capricious, though you know this so much better than I as it is your domain, and known to belong to the eye of the beholder. You’ll find it gathers around those who are found to be beautiful, though the reasons for that beauty will vary, as few can be said to be universally admired, excepting for us goddesses. Take you time, but not too much, as I sense that the brave soul I just blessed has already seen his love, and the Spartans will soon be roused by his actions.”
Rarity nodded, and stood so she could approach the pool. She tried to find some Beauty in what she was seeing, or the ponies, but found herself blocked by a thick, inky veil that made her skin crawl. She began to wring her hooves as she tried again, and was again repulsed, but by what she could not tell. There was something holding her back, blocking her from feeling their weave of Beauty, that transparent mesh of energy formed by the hearts and minds of mortal and immortal alike, and touching them in return.
Aphrodite stood and joined Rarity as they watched the events playing out in the pool. Rarity continued to wring her hooves and calm herself. As Aphrodite had done she attempted to reach her will into the pool and through it to where the Athenians continued their acts.
Beauty was there, Rarity could see it. She just couldn’t reach it. SHe stretched herself further, physically crowding over the pool until she precariously wobbled ready to fall into its enchanted waters.
She was on the cusp of figuring it out.
Trixie took to center stage.
Her hairs on the back of Rarity’s neck stiffening in warning, like an ill wind breathed down a frigid mountain slope, as the weave of Beauty recoiled. She glanced up just as Niomede plummeted from the clear blue heavens, the Goddess of the Hunt howling like a hungry wolf beneath the full moon, aiming straight for Rarity.
Her golden mane billowed in a solid stream, like the heavy winter cloak of a great king. At her side was a mighty barbed spear made from a giant thorn. A wild light glowed behind orange eyes fixated on her prey. Forest green wings tucked tight she fell faster than a dying star. And behind her came Ares, resplendent in battle-garb and aurchalcum axe raised overhead for a killing blow.
Rarity was hit on the side by a blast of magic from Aphrodite, the elder goddess reacting instantly, used to the often sudden violence of Gaea, and threw her out of Niomedes’ path. The volcano rumbled and shook from the impact of the Goddess of the Hunt, winds blasting into Rarity as she was sent tumbling away. Slowly she pulled herself back to her hooves, and it was only as she did so that the trio of groaning fillies about her reminded her of the Muses’ presence.
Ares landed lightly next to Niomedes, and thudded his long hafted great axe into the dirt next to him. He gave Rarity a cold scowl that he moved to Niomedes. “You missed.”
“Oh, dear brother, I intended to miss, for I wish to enjoy the hunt of this prey for some time yet. My intent was to scare her, to flush her from her hiding place. Go, run along little Iokan, find a new place to hide. I will be generous and give you a hundred-count with my eyes shut tight to the world so as to give you a chance.” Niomedes licked her lips as she dragged the edge of a wing down the sharp edge of her spear.
“Dear cousins, you dare!” Aphrodite’s own mane lashed around her as it were made of angry snakes, and Rarity was amazed at the sudden transformation about the Goddess of Love as she jumped forward to meet the intruders. Gone were all aspects of sedentary or the lackadaisical, replaced by a bright fury.
Ares turned to Aphrodite and spread his wings wide and bowed. “She is a fugitive. Surrender her.”
Aphrodite winced. “Yes, which is why she has been in my custody these past weeks here where I could keep an eye on her and she would attempt to run off to the mortals again. A lovely little plan that you have now spoiled.”
“Liar.” Surprisingly this came from Niomedes, Daughter of Zeus, the willowy Goddess of the Hunt rocking from side to side as an excited energy permeated the air about her. She was like a dog straining tight on its owner’s leash, braying to be released.
Rarity brushed herself off as she stood and squared her shoulders to face the Gods of War and Hunting. She did well to keep the dread in her stomach from showing on her face. Underhoof the volcano began to rumble.
“Darling, I thought—”
“Silence,” Ares, Son of Zeus, growled the word, his face contorting with a thunderous aspect that reminded all present of his mighty father when he too was roused to a terrible rage. He cocked an ear, as if listening to a distant whisper brought by the shifting breeze. His face grew stormier still, a dreadful purpose in his eyes as he hefted his great axe high that even the bravest of stallions would have wept in pitiable fear.
Niomedese, fleet child of Zeus, was faster than her brother and darted towards Rarity, who found herself unable to move the assault came so quick and the fear of death was caught in her breast. From the alien memories of Serene she relived the bite of Niomedese spear, how it tore apart the vital vitae and organs as it was twisted spreading a sea of agony. Paralysed by this dread Rarity did nothing to defend herself. Niomedese spear was a feather’s width from the soft curve of her throat when Hephaestus, Son of Zeus, emerged from his workshop clad only in his simple tinkerers vest. The mountain spat fire, mirroring the overflowing rage that boiled in the smith of the gods chest at his home being invaded, and the ground heaved mightily. Niomedese stumbled and Rarity was saved again by Aphrodite’s intervention, the Goddess of Love driving a short bladed stiletto between Niomedese ribs just below her wing in that exposed moment provided by the mountain’s rumbles.
Roaring as loudly as ten thousand ponies, Niomedese struck back with the butt of her spear, and Aphrodite was sent crashing into the magic pool. A long pause followed as Niomedese hefted her spear high to drive it down into the fair flesh of the Goddess of Love.
“Oh, Aphrodite, Daughter of the swirling oceans of pre-creation, who is doted on by the Fates and the rest of us gods, you are truly as beautiful to behold as you are foolish in your endeavors. Never were you one for battle, always running away as you tried to carry those you pitied to safety, and yet, forced to leave them behind to cruel mercies meted out at the end of sword and spear. I will show you how to smite an enemy now.”
Niomedese poised her spear above the goddess sprawled in the pool, and Aphrodite did not look away but grinned, for her husband had arrived.
Gone was the aspect of the tinkerer, and in its place was that of the Forgemaster. Hephaestus swelled with his rage, a rage redoubled at the sight of his tender wife at the mercies of Niomedese and Ares. Steely muscles bulged along neck and back, and his legs bulged to be as thick as a mortal chest. Three ponies standing atop each other’s shoulders would have been unable to meet his eyes, now burning bright with an intense flame that escaped his flaring nostrils with a stream of smoke. His mane glowed hot so that it could not be looked upon, and the grass about his hooves turned to ash with a kiss of flames. Niomedese and Ares both noticed Hephaestus in the same instant he struck, his mallet landing upon the joint of Niomedese left wing and shattering it into a pulp.
The cry that escaped Niomedese was louder still than that of the minor wound inflicted by Aphrodite, and far more pitiable. Before Hephaestus could follow through there was Ares before him, and the brothers grappled each other in a titanic struggle that shook the island though neither moved a hoof as they butted heads.
“Leave now, Ares,” spoke Hephaestus with all the fury of the erupting volcano. “Your hound has broken the covenant and tried to steal from me that which I find most precious. This is my home and place of greatest power. Go now else I never forgive you or Olympus and our father will learn of all that has transpired in his absence.”
“Impressive,” Ares responded, his steely thews bulging as he held his own against Hephaestus in his place of greatest power. There was a light of joy about Ares, for battle was the pinnacle of his existence, and too long it had been denied him.
It was Niomedese pained growl as she cradled her shattered wing that drew Rarity’s attention to the Goddess of the Hunt’s discarded spear. Snatching it up, Rarity leveled it at Ares. Ares sneered at Rarity, but it was Aphrodite who broke the impasse, the Goddess of Love overflowing with a wrathful passion like a she-wolf standing over her cubs in the face of a ravenous manticore.
“Enough! A battle amongst us will only further erode mortal faith, already so fragile with our long absence from their affairs. Zeus, who is wise in his councils, bade us keep our magics in check against each other till he returns, and so it should remain as we gods must do as he bids. Yet, a fair grudge we all should have towards him as he has been gone so long and slights have been left to fester till a new war between us heavenly alicorns looms over all, held by a goat’s hair ready to snap. This conflict must be resolved, and so we shall in the old ways. We here of Etna take as our charges Athens and all those who claim connection, and will see them against Sparta and her numerous allies. What say you, dear Ares, to a proper resolution to this dispute?”
Ares, never wavering as he strained against Hephaestus, considered for a brief moment before he rumbled, “Acceptable.”
Retrieving Niomedese and her spear, taking it from Rarity’s grasp as easy as a parent snatching a stick from a misbehaving foal, and as a dark cloud in the sky when it comes to blow after a strong heat, Ares ascended into the blue heavens. As he did so, the God of War called back, “Fight fairly, daughter of the First Realm, and all will be decided. Trickery will be answered with wetted bronze.”
When they were gone Rarity turned to Aphrodite with churning incredulity, and in a near shriek demanded. “What have you done? I tried to keep the Athenians safe, and you just threw them into a lion’s mouth!”
“They were involved the moment you sent Mystalicus and Trixie off to rescue Chryseis right in front of Ares. This was inevitable.” Aphrodite responded sadly, the passions that had animated her melting away to leave her seeming small and wilted like a flower poorly tended in the summer heat. “And we could not fight Ares even here and win unscathed. What say you husband?”
Hephaestus, who stood unmoved as he stared up where Ares and Niomedes had vanished, shook his head. “What a gaping sore of a mess you’ve brought to my home,” he grumbled, bones popping as he shrunk down to his usual size.
From his belt Hephaustus took his hammer as he spun on his back hooves. “Right, you want a Gate, then that is what you shall have, and good riddance to you and your troubles.” As he half-stomped and half-limped, a back hoof dragging behind him, towards his forge, he said to the Muses, who had been huddled behind Rarity this entire time, “Come on you three, give a hoof and we’ll have this done in no time. And dear wife, who I love more than all else in any world, try to keep that idiot from dragging more troubles into our home, would you? Damn pampered princesses don’t know when to leave well enough alone. Has to keep poking hibernating bears with hot brands.”
“As swift as the sparrow darts in spring, we must be away to the Athenians, lest the jaws of Sparta blessed by Ares close on their throat like the fangs of a prowling cat.” Aphrodite said to Rarity.
From her armoury Aphrodite retrieved many spears and pieces of oiled armour that had been gifted to her over the years by her industrious husband. These the pair of goddesses took to the Athenians, now just sighting Delos’ dilapidated docks.
As Rarity and Aphrodite glided down to greet Hypocemia and Queen Hecuba, Hephaestus’ anvil rang loud from the first of many blows to craft the aurichalcum bands to make a gate, the sound carrying far and wide across the disc and Gaea herself, long dormant and sleeping deep in a cave, cracked open an eye, yawned, and shook off her slumber.