Ares was crumpled, face buried in his hands and body shaking. He heard distant voices talking and loud thuds, but didn't react, too busy trying to conserve his energy. Yes, when he had first been trapped, Ares had desperately tried to escape, punching the walls and screaming at the top of his lungs, a manly scream of course. However, now he had realised how useless that was and that the only probable end to this was for him to be abandoned here, left to die.

Flinching, Ares heard a loud clang echo off the side of the bronze jar, he tried to push the image of his hand shattering as it made that exact noise months earlier. A few more sounds seeped through the cracks from the outside world, before all of a sudden the lid of the jar flew off, taking a large chunk out of the hard stone of the cave walls. Ares groaned, curling up tighter, too tired to even realise what had happened. His body shook, freezing and boiling in the same moment. The thin toga that covered his pathetic form had worn itself away over the months, now unsuitable for even the mild conditions of the sheltered cave.

His weak eyes noticed a form hovering over the jar, a presence he remembered, one unlike the giants; Ares' eyes widened slightly — causing him to wince in pain— as he recalled who was in front of him. Artemis. Ares knew that she was shocked by his appearance, normally he would've been disgusted by the look she gave him, but now, he knew that he was too weak to even stand up. A calloused hand brushed his shoulder, uncertain of the broken figure below her. Artemis' eyes shimmered with confusion, sure they had left Ares for a while, but it hadn't been that long, and he was Ares, god of war and strength.

"He- Help me," Ares' voice was stiff and sore, unused for many, many months. He scowled at how pathetic his voice sounded, how weak his body felt, how small his ego was. He was supposed to be a war god, a god of strength, the god of brutal battle. Now he was some pathetic whimpering mess that needed rescuing. Ares was furious, at himself, at the giants, at the fates. He couldn't even stand properly, Artemis would have to carry him.

A loud groan slipped through his lips as Artemis carefully lifted him up by the shoulders, making sure she didn't drop him. Ares bit back a scream when his broken fist knocked the edge of the cool bronze as Artemis dragged him out. Shimmering ichor dripped down the dips in his hands, coating the stains of ichor that had flowed months previous. Ares shut his eyes and dug his teeth into his lips trying to ignore the momentous amount of pain that pulsed through him with every breath.

Finally, Artemis carefully placed him on the soft rug that was on the cave floor, letting the ichor seep into it, not noticing as the rug shined gold. Ares relaxed, thankful that the strain on his almost unused muscles was over. He simply lay on the ground as Artemis whistled, calling the four deer that pulled her luminescent silver chariot. Sighing, Ares kept still whilst Artemis rolled up the rug he was in and carried him to the chariot. Defeated, he stayed silent, not wanting to speak; not that he was really able to. His vocal chords were still sore from the small, quiet sentence he had uttered early, so unlike his usual boisterous tone, yet still a large strain on his unused voice.

The harsh, brisk airs rushed through Artemis' hair as she guided the chariot through the sky, heart rate calming the further away she got from the giant's home. Silently, her eyes drifted to the glittering stars above her, almost close enough to reach for. Artemis knew most of the figures in the sky, had talked to them, laughed, fought, smiled, punished. Yet, throughout all of her years, she had never been shocked like she had been when the lid of that cursed jar flew open.

A loose sigh slipped through her lips, maybe the gods — including her— hadn't been the nicest to Ares. He was family, he was god of one of the most important parts of life: War. Yet, due to his brutish and violent nature, many of the gods treated him like a monster. Well, more of a monster than themselves.

Artemis glanced back at the broken body that lay loosely across her chariot. She considered the way his body had deteriorated: the pale and ashy look of his skin; the long straggled pieces of hair that hung across his scarred face; the way his chiton spread limply across his thin and frail body. Pain flitted through Artemis' chest. Pain she hadn't felt for the war god in a long, long time. Regret that pulled on her chest, regret that brought up deep, dark memories. Memories of broken screams and betrayed eyes. Memories of cursed bows and darkly glinting waters. Memories of pride before a fall of pure anguish.

A shudder ran through Artemis' body as she pushed those dark thoughts from her head. She felt a sharp sting on her lip and tasted the honeyed tang of ichor flooding her mouth. With a slight jerk, Artemis realised she had bitten into her lip. She sighed, looking once more to the skies and drifting between sweet memories for the rest of the journey, already having forgotten any thoughts about her half-brother.

We are gonna ignore this took months- right?

Whoops? i guess... ive been busy-

Anyway, ive already started the next one so- well it hopefully wont take longer than this one

-Olli 🐠