Ares, the god of war, was furious.

He paced the main room of his palace, his eyes burning holes into whatever unfortunate objects caught his furious gaze. Hands curled into fists and teeth clenched, Ares turned and once more made his way to the fountain in the far corner of his home, sword clanking against his armored torso. As he gazed at the pool of water, the liquid appeared to shift and showed once more the image that had infuriated him from the start.

Sparta, the city he protected, he guarded, he cared for, was burning.

Dying.

And all he could do was watch and listen.

He took his eyes of the scene that both infuriated and grieved him and roared, slamming his fists into the nearest table, smashing it to pieces. Blood still boiling, he took out his anger and pain out on the walls and items that adorned his palace. Finally, Ares stopped his onslaught on his home and turned his gaze onto his fists, still clenched tightly in anger and grief at the scene before him.

'What use is all this power if I can do nothing to protect my city and its people?' What use is the god of war if he cannot make war upon his enemies?' he mused bitterly.

Sinking into the nearest chair, the god of war placed his hands to his face, forcing himself to relive the events leading up to the discovery of his people's plight.

Flashback

Ares stalked his way up the streets of Olympus, making his way through the throng of nature spirits and minor gods that lived there, to the throne room of the gods. Hermes, his annoying little half-brother, had just informed him of a council meeting, before speeding of to gods knows where. Seeing as how just the day before the gods had met in a council, Ares was slightly confused, but decided whatever it was they were meeting for, it must be important.

After entering the throne room and taking his throne, he turned his gaze to the gods already present. Poseidon, the only one of the big three present thus far, met his gaze and acknowledged him with a nod that he returned. Artemis was also present, fiddling with her bow before she caught his gaze and glared hatefully, but he returned it with just as much, if not more, force. Ares couldn't stand the little witch; too many of his sons had met their ends at her and her huntresses' arrows for merely being near her hunting grounds. He made a note to kill the next one of her hinds he saw, just to spite her. The last goddess present was Hestia, and as always, when she caught his gaze, she smiled warmly in return. Ares loved his aunt, and hated how his pathetic half brother Dionysus had taken her place on the council. How was the god of wine more important a god than the eldest born of Kronos?

Before Ares could ponder the thought any longer, the rest of the Olympians appeared and took their seats, all silent save for the king and queen of the gods.

"HOW DARE YOU!" Ares cringed at his mother's shrill voice. Obviously, his father had, yet again, cheated on her with some two-bit mortal prostitute. Not that anyone was really surprised; he did get into the beds of more women than any of his children combined.

Hera was currently beating the cowering king of the gods with a peacock-feather fan rather viciously. While most of the Olympians were chuckling or outright laughing, the god of war had learned personally not to laugh at his mother's rather strange choice of weapon, least his mother turn the rather frilly, but still incredibly dangerous fan onto him…again. He shivered at the repressed memory.

"OW! Ok! Ok! Ouch, have you no mercy woman!?" Zeus yelped, alternating between trying to fight off his infuriated queen and attempting to retain some form of dignity, a rather daunting task seeing as how he was trying to fend off his wife and her fan.

Hera merely huffed and swatted her unfaithful husband one last time, eliciting another pained yelp from Zeus, before she sat at her throne, still glaring daggers at the king of the gods. Zeus merely sighed; he knew he was going to have to go another round with his wife once the meeting was over. Running a hand through his shock of grey hair, he turned and faced the Olympians. Zeus cleared his throat, gathering their attention before he began.

"I know that we just had a council meeting, but something rather urgent has just come up." He turned his eyes to Ares, who, seeing the wariness and trepidation in his father's eyes, suddenly felt as though something terrible was about to occur.

"The city of Sparta," Zeus began, still looking warily at the god of war," burns as we speak."

To say all Hades broke loose would be an understatement.

Leaping out of his throne, the god of war attempted to flash down to Sparta, before being tackled by several Olympians.

"Release me!" He roared, desperate to save the people and city he protected.

"No! You cannot interfere! It is against the ancient laws!" Zeus commanded sternly.

Roaring in fury, Ares threw them off as if they were ragdolls and once again attempted to flash down to the burning city, before silver arrows pierced his knees, making him lose his concentration and buckle to the ground, where he was meet with a silver sandaled foot to his chest, sending him crashing into one of the throne room walls.

"Oh, is the mighty god of war too weak to fight a poor little girl?" Artemis mocked, contempt and hatred for the god of war spilling out of her voice with every word, " Is this all you can do? No wonder your people die as we speak, they are fools to follow such a weak pig!"

That was the last straw. She had crossed the line.

"Artemis, you die today!"

Tearing out the arrows implanted into his knees with a pained grunt, he glared hatefully at the goddess of the hunt before leaping and tackling her, pinning her to the floor. A fist from the trapped goddess met his jaw, but had little effect on Ares as he landed several heavy-handed blows to her face, coating his fists and torso with Artemis's ichor as his brutal onslaught continued. Golden arrows pierced his armor and tore into his flesh, but his body barely felt them as he took out his rage on the goddess before him.

"ENOUGH!" Ares barely heard his father's command; nothing could stop his rage now. She insulted his honor and the honor of his people. She must die.

Lightning lit the throne room with harsh white light as an enormous bolt of lightning slammed into him and knocked him off his feet, sending him crashing into a wall and falling to the floor before losing consciousness.

Flashback End

After waking, Ares had immediately attempted to flash to Sparta, but found he was too weak after taking the blast from his father's bolt. All he could do was watch as his people and city turned into the dust they had come from.

Head heavy in his hands, the grieving god of war did not notice the pool's image shift to show his temple, nor did he see the small boy crawling to his shrine.

But he did hear his prayer.

A whisper in his mind and ear.

"Help me. Please."

Ares snapped his head up. He could scarcely hope, scarcely breathe, as he ran to the pool, unbelieving, yet believing, what he had heard. What he now saw.

A small boy was curled up against his statue. Sleeping or unconscious, Ares couldn't tell, but none of that mattered; only one thing did.

There was still hope.

A Spartan still lived.

The god of war quickly responded to the child's message before dashing to the entryway of his palace. Ares smashed the door to splinters, not slowing down a single step as he made his way to the one person who could help him. Making his way through the empty streets of Olympus, (for when he had awakened, it was a late hour of the night.), he finally found his destination. Stopping at the door, Ares pounded on the door, praying she would respond.

After what seemed like an eternity, the door swung open, and Hestia looked outside her door to be greeted by the sight of her nephew Ares waiting on her.

"Ares, what are you doing here? It isn't even dawn yet." Ares made a mental note that Hestia was most definitely not a morning person, but decided not to dwell on that. He had a Spartan to save, not to mention the fact that one does not simply bring up a woman's appearance and survives… He shook his head to get rid of the thought and focus.

"There's still hope. Hestia, a Spartan still lives! But I need your help to save him. The boy, he's in my temple, unconscious or sleeping. It was difficult to tell, but he looks to be covered in burns. I fear for his survival should we not make haste." The hearth goddesses' eyes widened before she grabbed his shoulder and flashed off Olympus in a wreath of flames. Several seconds passed before their trip ended and they appeared at the temple of Ares, and they caught a glimpse of the true destruction of Sparta first hand.

Ash fell from the sky as they made their way through the scorched city, every now and then finding the remains of Spartans either making a desperate last stand against an unknown enemy, or dying in the blaze attempting to save their family. The god of war was silent as he and Hestia made their way through the scorched city, both unknowingly praying that the Fates preserved the boy. Once his temple was in sight, Ares broke off into a sprint, weaving around the debris that littered the streets before reaching the temple steps. Quickly making his way up the many stairs, he was stopped short at what he saw.

The boy, for he was indeed a boy, couldn't have been more than nine years of age. His tiny shoulders and hands were burnt and blistered, and his whole body was a sickly pale white shade.

He was running out of time.

Ares quickly scooped the boy into his arms just as Hestia made her way to the top off the steps, panting rather heavily.

"Ares," she began breathlessly, "we are going to have a talk about you torturing your worshippers. How many steps is that?"

Despite the situation, Ares couldn't help but chuckle slightly before once more gazing at the small child in his arms.

Hestia approached him, her crimson eyes filled with warmth and comfort as she took in the boy's condition.

"I will take him to my palace, seeing how it's rather unlikely that you will receive help from Apollo anytime soon, with what all happened today in the throne room." She turned her eyes off the boy and gave the god of war a stern look.

"His foolish sister mocked me and the Spartans. The little pornai got what she asked for." He had kept his eyes on the boy, so he didn't see Hestia's disapproving look at his rather harsh description of his half sister. "Let us hurry, least the boy's condition grows worse."

Hestia nodded, "Alright, but I expect you to apologize to Artemis, if not for your sake, then for the sake of your children that she may take her revenge on."

Ares glared at the floor, "I have no more children." He spat bitterly, "Phobos and Deimos have faded, their children and worshipers long dead and gone, and the last of my remaining demigod children were here in Sparta as it burned."

Hestia's eyes softened and she placed her hand on the god of war's shoulder, "Then do it for him. The child you hold now. You and I both know that she would have no qualms against killing a male, even one as young as he is."

Ares met her gaze evenly, "The day Artemis harms this last son of Sparta, I swear on the River Styx that it will be the day she fades."

Hestia's eyes widened as thunder boomed overhead before she smiled at his protectiveness over the child, before grasping his shoulder and flashing away, leaving the temple and all of Sparta, quiet once more.

AN: So, how was it? Good? Terrible?