theatrical_muse 256; What do you hope for?
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.
The War to End All Wars
On armistice day
The philharmonic will play
But the songs that we sing
Will be sad. - Paul Simon, "Armistice Day"
Ares usually asks me why I went soft only once per year. I think my answer bothers him. He flicks some sort of animal skin at me - just making me even more interested in considering vegetarianism - sneers, sips his wine, and says: "You're no fun anymore, Athena. All you want now is peace peace peace. You're a goddess of war, you know. You'll be out of a job."
It's the same way every time, which is how I can predict it with absolute certainty. Once a year, Ares and I share a meal. Once a year he fills the table with game and wine and ale, like we're still living at the height of our power and half those animals aren't nearly extinct. And once a year for the past ninety he tells me I'm no fun any more.
"It'll never happen," he adds, smirking like he just outsmarted me. Ares never outsmarts me. I let him win at chess once, and he got angry at me. Now I don't bother. Don't get me wrong; he's brilliant. But he's not me.
"Just because it will never happen doesn't mean I can't hope for it."
"But why?"
Normally I wax on about reaching for the brass ring on the carousel, which I know annoys him because carousels secretly frighten him. This year, I try to spice things up a bit. "Happy Armistice Day, brother."
His mouth was already open with his usual rebuttal, and he closes it with a click. "What did you say?"
"Armistice Day. It was ninety years ago."
"Was it?"
I nod and reach for the cider. "You were there."
He grunts. I made him go to the armistice talks in Germany and the signing of Versailles the next spring. He didn't understand why, and he probably never really will. I'm not sure that even I understand these things sometimes. "What's that have to do with you becoming a peacenik?"
I wonder if he even knows where that word comes from. "That was the beginning for me. Their first 'World War'. The things these humans can do... they don't need us for their wars, and there won't be any of them left to even remember our myths if they keep at it. Their weapons get more and more powerful and their leaders more and more scared. Wars aren't won by armies anymore, brother, they're won by robots and satellites."
"No. Maybe not. But they're fought by armies, and I'll be there for those men and women until there are no men and women left." He shrugs. Like I said, my brother can be brilliant. And loyal, in his way. People underestimate him because he's best known as a blunt tool. But even blunt tools can be used in gentle and intelligent ways. A spade and spear were once interchangeable, and he's a fantastic farmer. The Romans knew that.
He laughs. "You're thinking about the Romans again, aren't you? Your face gets this little faraway look that I see on mortals sometimes. I wish I could have met your - "
"Oh, shuttup. We're talking about war and peace."
"War and peace," he leans forward, "love, hate. Aren't they all the same, in the end?"
Touché. Now it's my turn to laugh. See what I mean. "So Aphrodite tells me."
Ares shakes his head and a scowl spreads across his face. "I wish she weren't so loving sometimes. Polygamy is much better when only the males get to participate."
"Would peace be a bad thing? I'll retire and become a weaver, you can retire and become a farmer."
"They're making weaving and farming things of the past with their technology, too. This is all Prometheus' fault. He should never have given them fire."
I roll my eyes. Sometimes we believe our own myths, even though we know better. "They called it the War to End All Wars, do you remember?"
He shrugs. "Propaganda was your thing, not mine."
A fair point. "It didn't. How many wars, big and small, have there been in the last ninety years?"
"Plenty."
"Exactly."
He sits silently for a moment, but I can tell he's really thinking about it. It's fine, we've got time.
Probably.
I grin. "It's like reaching for the brass ring, Ares. On the carousel."
His scowl turns murderous. "I hate you."
"Hate. War. Love and peace. Aren't they all the same thing?"
I laugh.
He actually laughs with me.
We've got time.