writers_muses; Set 26, 2A: Prepare for War
The gods mentioned in this story are not meant to represent any of the gods that may currently exist in the variety of prompt and roleplaying communities on Livejournal or elsewhere. They are gods inside of Athena's universe only, and their actions and personalities have no relation to, or effect upon, any other characters but Athena.
Pax Eternia
Qui desiderat pacem, praeparet bellum."(Let him who desires peace prepare for war.) - Vegetius , 4th Century A.D.
It's the gray time before dawn. A fine mist shrouds the camp and clings to the tents, the armor, and the men. The war goddess slides through the mist like a ghost, walking the length of the camp once, then again, then a third time. No moisture gathers on her clothing. She is untouchable and invisible. For now, too, she is unknowable.
Some of the men mutter in their sleep. They call to mothers and wives, fathers and sons, and they call to their god. She pauses and listens to the sleep-heavy prayers. "In nomine Patris…"
She thinks of her father. The ægis rests heavily on her back as she looks to the sky. If he's listening, he doesn't answer. She's not surprised.
The mist starts to thin as the sun rises. The men stir. She wanders to the main tent. The general hunched over his maps looks up. He's unhappy to see her. That doesn't surprise her, either. Her existence is heresy, and the general is here to stamp out heresy.
She enjoys his discomfort. “Morning.”
He clears his throat to reply before thinking better of it. Instead, he nods once in her direction and she nods, politely, back. They're all so formal, these Europeans. No, sher corrects herself; it's the European nobility that's so stiff. The salt of the Earth has always been the salt of the Earth, and always will be.
After nearly half an hour of silence, an officer steps into the tent. He nods at the goddess, but addresses only his general. “The men break fast now. We will be ready when the sun reaches the hill.” The general quietly thanks him for the news, his voice soft. She wonders if he thinks that means she doesn't hear him. On his way out the soldier pauses in front of the goddess, and she reaches out to touch his arm. He smiles briefly at her and is gone.
“Well,” she announces, turning back to the general. “Things to do, battles to fight, heretics to... whatever it is you do with them.” She leaves that to others. Her domain is the battlefield, and she prefers to ignore what happens to the prisoners of this particular war.
He stares at her for a moment before responding. “I fight today in the name of the true God and His son, Jesus Christ. I bear your presence as a burden because it is what the Pope commands. That doesn't mean I have to like it. But...” His face twists. “Thank you for your favor, Minerva.”
She laughs. “You have a very funny way of supplicating yourself, holy warrior. Consider it accepted, for what it's worth.” Worry passes across his face at her words and she enjoys that, too. She leaves the tent and walks to the tree line, where Victoria awaits her.
“You shouldn't tease them, Athena.”
The war goddess shrugs. “They prepare for war. Why not let them think that I'll lead them to you?”
Victory frowns. “Because false hope is worse than no hope.”
“Is it?”
There is a silence that stretches, but it's companionable. The goddesses stand side by side, Warfare and Victory, watching the men ready themselves for the day's battle.
Word Count: 536, without quote