Chapter 17: Chapter 17: Divine Escape
Sparta
Two days before Menelaus received the letter
"My Prince we're ready at your command." A soldier said from his prostrate position. He wore a brown leather cuirass, brown leather greaves, and a beige chiton with silver medallions on each shoulder.
"And our route to sea?" Paris, the Prince of Troy asked, laying on an extravagant bed, his fingers intertwined with the lush blonde hair of the Queen of Sparta, Helen.
"Secured my Prince." The prostrate soldier responded immediately
"Good, let us commence." Paris said, getting up from his comfortable position under the Queen, and moving towards the chamber's entrance.
In a chair by the door was a black cuirass, one he recently acquired in Sparta on one of his many outings with the Queen, and next to it, a short sword given to him by his biological father.
Grasping the handle of the short sword, Paris put it on his waist and looked towards the ceiling. As he did, he closed his eyes, and muttered words of prayer to his God, "Lady Aphrodite please. I know you have fulfilled your promise, but please, can you guide me once more?" His words softly spoken, going unheard by the chamber's other occupants.
His plea to Aphrodite was short, he knows he's grasping at straws when it comes to prayers with Gods, but he couldn't help it. He saw not only one, but three Goddesses, and what the Goddess he chose said she would give him; she did. She gave him a miracle. It wouldn't hurt to try again.
He opened his eyes, and resolve was all that was shown. He's not going to bet on the Gods, but he wouldn't mind their help.
"Helen." He turned from the chair, fully dressed in his black cuirass with matching greaves, his eyes landing on the most beautiful mortal woman he's ever seen.
"Coming." The beauty called, getting up from the bed, and began gathering a few things. "Are you sure we'll be ok Paris? Helen couldn't help but be nervous.
As a Queen this could be interpreted much more differently. Instead of a frustrated Queen running away with a foreign Prince, this could be looked at as kidnapping.
Regardless of the truth; a foreign Prince, who was treated well in the Kings castle, and while said King was away mourning the loss of his grandfather, stole his wife, the Queen away.
No matter how you look at, this will be the cause for war.
"We will be fine my love." Paris said, walking towards Helen, bringing her into a hug. "I know we will." He smiled, separating a bit and looking down.
Hugging her again, Paris looked towards the ceiling, 'I hope so.' He thought.
"Let's get you to Troy." Paris said, breaking their hug and began walking toward the exit grasping Helen's hand, some guards following closely behind.
Meanwhile on Olympus…
"Are you going to help?" Ares asked Aphrodite in a drawl. His head was on her lap and his eyes closed. Aphrodite's fingers were dancing on his scalp, and the grass caressed his skin. 'What is this magic?' He thought.
Displaying a small smile unseen by Ares, Aphrodite replied, "I don't know. Like he said, I gave him his prize. If it wasn't for you I wouldn't have known the boy. For him to ask for my favor once more, he's a rather daring one." She spoke uninterested in the topic, more enthralled by Ares' hair.
Currently, Ares and Aphrodite were in the the latter's temple.
It was a circular structure with ceilings forty feet high and a sprawling garden encompassing the entire floor. Flowers of red, pink, and white spot the green grass, with several statues of Aphrodite placed throughout. In the corner of the circular structure is a semi circular wall ten feet high with an opening on the side to get in and out.
Getting up from Aphrodite's lap, to her annoyance, Ares proceeded to stretch, cracking his neck and fingers. "Maybe you should help him." Ares suggested offhandedly, pulling the strap of his black chiton over his shoulder, covering his bare chest.
"Why? This has no benefit for me." Aphrodite said, standing up behind Ares, her arms around his waist and head on his back.
"But it does for me." Ares replied, turning around, reciprocating the hug from Aphrodite. "Just like the boy helped you gain the apple of the fairest, he too will help me, but for something that holds much more importance than being the most beautiful on Olympus." Ares finished, his eyes turned to Aphrodite who was looking at him, her right eyebrow raised.
Chuckling lightly he continued, "War. By being the Prince of a foreign land and kidnapping the Queen of another, in which he was a guest, the young Prince has incited a war that will be sung about throughout the ages." Ares told Aphrodite, posing dramatically in a t-shape, his head the held toward the ceiling, her arms still firmly around his waist. "And what is my title on my seat in the hall of Gods?" Ares asked rhetorically, bring his arms back to Aphrodite's side, looking down at her.
"I see…" Aphrodite answered, her eyes not looking at Ares' face, but following her finger that's exploring his sculpted chest. "We'll then, why don't you help him?" She questioned.
"I- your right." Said a dumbfounded Ares. 'But how?' he thought.
While Ares was mulling over ways to help the couple and possibly hasten the bloodshed, he didn't notice Aphrodite's glossed over eyes.
"He's calling again." She told Ares, knocking him out of his machinations.
Upon looking at to her face, Ares saw a suggestive smile. Rolling his eyes and sighing outwardly, Ares parted from Aphrodite, and began walking toward the exit of the temple but stopped and looked back, a confused look on his face.
"Aren't you coming?" He asked Aphrodite, turning back toward the entrance, not waiting for a response.
"Fufufu." Aphrodite giggled, soon following after Ares, a lustful glint in her eyes as she gazes upon his back. 'Just you wait Ares.' She thought.
Back in Sparta…
"Halt! Release the Queen at once heathen!" Shouted a man dressed in nothing but a red cape, showing off his well defined body, brown leather shin high sandals, a bronze helmet on his head with a matching shield on his arm and an iron sword pointed toward the young Prince of Troy.
'How did this happen?' Paris thought, the frightened Queen of Sparta, clutching on to his arm, trembling with misty eyes.
Everything leading until the docks was fine.
Helen had changed into normal civilian clothes, provided by her maid, and with that the escape went off smoothly.
Instead of the Queen being taken out of the castle, the young Prince of Troy had taken out a maid, even receiving knowing smiles from guards on the way out.
They moved through the city streets with blistering pace. Using back streets and going through areas a Queen would normally not, it was the maid that provided Helen with the clothes that led the way to the docks undetected.
Arriving at the docks, the ship that Paris had moored was still there to the his elation. Hurrying everyone onboard, just as the last person before himself got on board, Paris heard barrage of heavy footsteps.
Turning around, Paris was confronted by a group of twenty Spartan soldiers, all dressed in red capes, bronze helmets and shields with iron tipped spears and swords in hand.
'What do they feed these men?!' Paris thought. Suddenly out of a compartment on the boat the Queen poked her head out, "Paris why aren't yo-" As she was speaking, she looked from Paris to the other side of the dock, where he was also looking, and spotted most of her husbands elite soldiers.
Her body moved on its own, as she quickly left the boat to the protest of Paris's soldiers, and arrived by his side, her body with all the signs of fear.
A Spartan soldier then suddenly stepped out, his physique superior to Paris's in every way. Pointing his sword at the young Prince, the Spartan soldier spoke, his voice deep, and guttural.
"Halt! Release the Queen at once heathen!"
Standing proud, Paris stepped in front of the trembling Queen, drawing his sword, and spoke in a cold voice, with his eyes sharp, "Never."
"How dare-"
"I like it young Trojan, fighting for what's yours." A deep voice reverberated around the docks, everyone's head swiveling to locate the source.
Suddenly the deep voice reverberated throughout the docks once again, "Up here."
As if on command, everyone present craned there necks to the sky.
A giant of a man was floating in the air, his height 9ft3in, and his long blonde hair with red and black streaks fluttered like a cape behind his back. He was wearing a simple black chiton with one strap over his right shoulder allowing his God like physique to present itself.
On his waist was a golden belt with intricate patterns and on the side was a Kopis, its blade aegis metal, and its handle black with red designs.
The black, shin high sandal wearing man slowly began to descend between the young Trojan and the Spartan soldiers.
"Go young Trojan, your Goddess awaits your presence." The tall man spoke, his eyes never looking upon for whom the words were meant. Instead his gaze was locked on the twenty elite Spartan soldiers, a sadistic smile on his face.
"But-"
"I'll kill you too if you don't do as your told." The blonde man's voice was cold, Helen quickly grabbed Paris, who was in a daze, and pulled him to the boat.
"You are no mortal." The Spartan soldier who confronted Paris spoke. "Who are you God?" The man spoke matter of factly.
The other soldiers were stunned, 'A God?' They all thought.
"You see, I'm in a good mood, so today I will oblige you mortal. Because this is my first interaction with humans I'll introduce myself. My name is Ares, son of the God Queen, Hera, and God of War. Now, for my cause, die."
Before anyone could blink, the Spartan soldier who confronted Ares was beheaded, with Ares who was in front of him now behind, his sword dripping blood, the Spartan soldier's body slumping down.
Briefly looking behind him he noticed the Trojan Prince and Spartan Queen had set sail. 'And the plot thickens!' He thought excitedly.
Turning back to the remaining nineteen soldiers, his smile never leaving his face, Ares spoke, "Let's dance."
Appearing before an unassuming Spartan to the left of the group, Ares lowered himself and horizontally swung, cleaving the Spartans legs through his knee caps, and spun on his way up, decapitating the soldier.
Not giving them any chance to process what occurred, Ares grabbed a sword from his foe's corpse, and became a tornado in the midst of the group of Spartans.
Two Spartans ran at Ares on either side, the latter preoccupied another of the former. Parrying a horizontal swing aimed for his neck, Ares followed up swinging his Kopis vertically, slicing his opponent's sword arm off, before turning and blocking a sword strike aimed for his head and simultaneously stabbing his other sword through his opponent's stomach.
Pushing his new opponent away, Ares grabbed him before he can get too far and spun, throwing him into the oncoming Spartan approaching from Ares' back.
The resulting collision created a sickening crunch, with the bodies ricocheting, landing on the docks unmoving.
Seeing they had no other choice, the remaining Spartans fiercely yelled a resounding battle cry, a semicircle of well trained soldiers pointing swords and spears toward the God of War.
'Yes!' Ares thought. Lowering his stance, ready to take on the incoming soldiers, suddenly, thunder boomed and lighting flashed in the sky, striking the docks, and cremating the remaining soldiers.
'No!' Ares cursed internally. He knew who this was.
"How dare you interfere so openly in mortal matters?!" A deep male voice said with disdain.
Ares looked up to see an 8ft11in, shoulder length white haired man, with a muscular body similar to his own, wearing a white, one strapped chiton, with golden greaves, and a matching golden belt around his waist.
"Zeus." Ares' voice was dry, he was trying his best to contain his anger towards the God King, 'You burnt my entertainment.' He cried internally.
"Come, I've called for a meeting on Olympus. Your presence in this matter is required." The King of Gods said, his voice giving no room for debate.
Waving his hand, he opened a portal with Olympus pictured on the other side a walked in, not once looking back at Ares.
"Breathe, Ares, Breathe. You can't kill him yet." Ares kept repeating to himself as he followed Zeus to Olympus.
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