Dull Colours [EDITED EDITION]

Five | Athena

Hera felt the comforting and familiar weight of Athena in her hand as she strided up the steps, portraying a confidence she wished she felt. For her people. For Giala. Memories came back to Hera, unwelcome but stark and clear.

~~~~~

Younger Hera swung Athena as hard as her arms would let her without buckling. She was still short after many years of finding the sword and bonding with it. She was now thirteen, and loved Athena with all her heart. Just like all royal Gialans, she had become training when she turned seven. She had now been training for six years and four months, but it had mostly been running and weight-lifting, building up the muscle to wield heavier swords such as Athena. She hadn't actually wielded Athena, or much weaponry in general, in training. Not to mention how badly the armour fit her. Most women weren't interested in training (it was optional), so the heavy steel was built for someone with a little more of a square build, and Hera was quite small and the armour was heavy for her. It made it hard to swing.

Grunting, she swung the sword at her trainer, Dmitri. He stepped back, avoiding her blow easily. Hera swung the sword to her left, unbalanced, and nearly landed on top of it. Her reflexes allowed her to roll away before she hit the ground - and the sword. She had been tired and overwhelmed, having had little sleep with her tutoring going late and her reading going later, and had went and sat in the corner, breathing heavily. Dmitri had come over and put a hand on her shoulder. He had been fifteen at the time, with an incredible amount of patience for his age, and later Hera would come to think of him as quite attractive, with golden hair that fell around his face, which was always grinning, with a square jaw and comforting brown-caramel eyes.

Now, she didn't know or care about things like that. She was seeing black spots and was quite alarmed. Trying to hold on to consciousness, Dmitri came and sat next to her, trying to not look panicked. "Are you okay?" He asked. "I- I think..." she had fainted, simply from pushing her body too far. She was instructed to rest more, train less by the Doctor. She had ignored him and continued to push herself. Just not too far. 

~~~~~

Dmitri had been Hera's first kiss. She had been training with him, and she had been fourteen and he had been sixteen. He had swung his sword, and she had blocked it, flicking it out of his grasp and it had landed behind Hera. She had pushed him up against a wall to pin him down, and he had leaned forward and pressed their lips together. Then she had stepped back, blushed, and he had said training was over. Hera had nodded, speechless, and walked out.

~~~~~

Hera nearly tripped going up the stone steps. She hadn't been concentrating properly, and she stubbed her toe. She knew she was literally going to war, but it still hurt like blue hell. Tears came to her eyes as she stumbled on, and then sunlight streamed into her eyes. She had reached the rooftop, and her ears were assaulted with the sounds of the Conjured making their unpleasant screeching noise. Hera had come to think of it as their battle cry.

Their battle cry.

Unwillingly, Hera used her own. It was one she'd learnt to use during training, when she'd been smaller and the armour held her back. And sometimes she held herself back so she'd let her anger out with a shout. Hera's battle cry let out all the anger and misery she'd ever bottled up inside her. She yelled as loud as her throat and lungs would let her and she rushed forwards like they did in the movies. Soon everyone behind her joined in and they were a swarm - no, an army - of people longing for a taste of revenge. Although Hera wouldn't recommend eating a Conjured.

They rushed into battle, the Conjured making that screech noise. Athena flew around Hera, a blur, and she felt free. It was incredible. Under such horrid circumstances she felt truly alive. It was then, with the energy and adrenaline flowing through her veins, that she realised this is what she was made for. She was born to fight, and to be a leader. This was her purpose.

Hera's sword felt like a part of her. It was just an extension of her hands. She was going to win; she was going to -

She was holding thin air.

Athena was gone.

It had been knocked out of her hands and broken.

But Athena never broke.

But there she was, lying on the floor, shattered. Not just broken in two - shattered.

She screamed. Hera couldn't believe the thing she loved most - had given a piece of her heart and soul to - was gone. That piece of Hera, so precious, was gone. The amount of loss pressuring Hera was horrible. The stone weights tripled in size. She had lost her parents and now her sword.

More importantly, now she didn't have a weapon. Luckily for her, Dmitri had been close by and using his favoured weapon, throwing knives, and had about fifty. Hera was endlessly thankful for his preparedness as he handed her a few knives. At her request, he had taught her how to use nearly every weapon when he was her trainer. She muttered a thank-you and threw most of them, taking out a few Conjured. 

But she was running out.

She was going to die without a weapon, it was inevitable.

But she knew what to do.