writers_muses; 42.5: Ficlet on Firsts
We all have firsts that impact our lives forever, tell us about the most important one in your life.
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.
Lighter Than a Feather
Duty is heavy as a mountain but
Death is lighter than a feather.
-Japanese Proverb
A great general is also a great murderer. His skill as a tactician will guarantee, without a doubt, that soldiers from all sides of the conflict will die. Hopefully less from his side than the others, but the final victory isn’t always measured in the amount of pawns you’ve got left on the board.
I’m a great general. I’m the best there is, but of course I can’t be compared to the mortal generals, no matter how good they are. Some of them have been really really good.
So follow the statement to its logical conclusion: I’m a great murderer.
I’m okay with that, even though I don’t get the easy out of believing that my position, my country, my religion, my ruler is the right one. I think they’re all right and they’re all wrong. And it’s not that I don’t respect mortal life. Just the opposite really, and I’m one of the few gods that can actually claim to care as much about human life as divine life.
To be responsible for another living being’s death is a lot easier when you’re sitting a thousand miles away, making decisions for a battalion of troops. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think Truman had it easy when he okayed the flight of the Enola Gay, but the decision to kill, the responsibility for that decision, and the act of killing are very separate things. They’re different kinds of war. They’re Ares and they’re me.
But. Ares has to be a good tactician to be good at his kind of war. I have to be a good soldier to be good at mine. My spear has pierced flesh. My sword has hewn bone. Et cetera et cetera.
I really believe that it’s only by taking life, or having the power to take life, that a soldier can really respect it. Every general was a soldier at one time. The first kill changes you.
My first kill was quick. I think Father wanted it that way, because he wanted me to be the best general I could be. To do that, I needed to know what it felt like to take a life.
He was just a man. He was just a thief: a former soldier fallen on hard times, trying to survive by robbing travelers on the road to Delphi. I walked as a mortal and he mistook me for one, and tried to take more than just my purse from me.
When my sword pierced his chest, I saw the shock on his face. I was younger and more arrogant then, and I revealed myself to him. “Congratulations, you are the first to fall by the hand of Athena, daughter of Zeus.”
He died with a soft gurgling sound as he choked on his own blood. I watched his spirit leave his body.
I promptly threw up.
We gods are very similar to mortals in some ways. We have adrenaline, for example. Our body reacts to trauma in similar ways. I had just survived a rape attempt, and had killed a mortal and watched as he died on my sword. I think throwing up was a pretty fair response.
Nike tried to make me feel better. “He was just a mortal.”
“What’s the difference? He was alive and now he’s not.”
I’m a great soldier. I’m a great general.
I’m a great murderer.
His name was Ephranor and he was from Thrace.
Word Count: 573