The Last Ballad of Olympus: The Waltz of the Vulture and Owl

The Lovers and The Foes

Hermes and Aphrodite, quite an unlikely pair, owned the floor that night. Everyone clapped as they looked at them—commanding the center stage with their dance. Refined, regal, and joyous, their waltz was the envy of all.

The two laughed and enjoyed every beat. And after minutes of having the focus all on them, Aphrodite and Hermes then encouraged their audience to resume their dance—the floor is much too wide and best shared with the majority.

Everyone jived into the invitation. Once more, the floor was packed with singing, cackling, and bashful faces as they stared into their partners. However, one deity had her sight darted to many places—

Athena—a fair goddess who had just accepted Ares's invitation, was looking at the others, observing every euphoric emotion painted on their faces. She asked herself, "When can I ever have that happiness? Will I ever have that?"

Her focus then skipped to Hephaestus, who now bravely asked for Aphrodite for a dance after Hermes had his chance. Athena felt anxious for him. Good thing the goddess of love accepted his offer—even smiling at him as she let him lead her back to the dancefloor.

Ares then recognized her concern. As she stared at the distant scene, her hands unconsciously gripped his as she braced herself for Aphrodite's answer to Hephaestus.

The god of war looked at her, eyeing every detail of her face. Beautiful, dainty, and something in her cryptic stares that can make someone lose his goal in life. Not once, when they began dancing, she looked at him. Everyone and everything all around was a distraction for her. Dancing in pair was something she was never used to.

"Is there something wrong?" He asked, finally ending the uncanny silence between them.

"Huh? Oh—" Athena suddenly remembered him. A funny thing for her to do so that Ares even had to stop his laughter from bursting. "If—if I tell you, you might rage and cause a scene here."

"Then what is it?" Ares smoothly inquired.

Athena said nothing for a second, feeling a strange aura hovering over them as she noticed the close space between his face and hers. He intentionally did this. Discreetly interrogating her for her secrets—that was what she thought.

Without mumbling any syllables, her eyes shifted again to Hephaestus and Aphrodite's direction, hoping Ares would understand her intention.

Ares did get her. He looked back, followed where her glares went, and saw Hephaestus and Aphrodite—all smiles and seemingly enjoying each other's company. No hint of envy was boiling his blood. He was happy for them—grinning along with their merriment.

"Jealousy or contentment?" His partner wondered, teasing him.

"Neither." He said.

Ares then turned his head back to her and smiled, "Not a single jealousy."

Athena was amused at his new character as if she was not talking with Ares. "Really? That is quite a relief."

"As I should be, Athena. Hephaestus deserved a moment with Aphrodite. After those years of longingness, his silent devotion to her should be rewarded—and this night was perfect.

His words astounded her. The goddess of wisdom beamed in disbelief at such a crazy and unsuspecting change in his spirit. Was he possessed? Was he drunk? But not a smell of wine lingered when he opened his mouth. She could not decipher him. She had an inkling he was sincere, though she could also sense a masquerade circumstance inside him.

"I never knew that the god of war could utter such words? The Ares I knew would debate or just let his action do his bidding."

"The Athena I knew, do not pry on someone else's business."

She laughed. "What do you mean? It is my business. It is our business, sadly, to pry over people's lives. That is our main job."

Ares laughed as well when he found himself some humor over his denseness. "I sometimes forget I am a deity."

The two laughed.

Enemies were in good spirits, and former lovers sparked their forgotten romance. The night might have something in the air, making a paradoxical event possible.

There went Hephaestus and Aphrodite—a couple of peculiar relations: with one uplifted and loved while the other left at the bottom tier, made to be ridiculed by others. But on that stage, while everyone else pranced to their desire, the beauty and the ill-favored were on cloud nine. Quietly sharing the ecstatic moment that Aphrodite never knew she longed for. Though the limping god was scuffling on his moves, he did his best not to be foolish in front of the goddess of love. He also avoided some ridicules that might anger her, especially from those prying eyes that only want nothing but to make him the laughing stock of Olympus.

However, despite his fiddly and hobbling waltz, Aphrodite did not care. She was smiling and laughing with him. While Hephaestus was carefully protecting her from being dragged along on some folks' jest, the goddess, on the other hand, was secretly making her old fling be at ease and feel at home with her touch.

' His warm hands cooled her freezing heart. The damned hole in her soul, formed from Adonis's death, was suddenly filled.

Or was there even a hole from the start?

She began to question—questioning her existence with forbidden words that should and must remain a hush.

The weakest spot was found. The goddess of love became enfeebled by her unforeseen fragility. She became slow, clutching onto Hephaestus's arms while slowly letting her head rest on his chest. The suddenness of her action surprised the blacksmith god. He wanted to ask her, but he let her be as her scent and heat imprinted on him.

And in response to the intimate gesture, Hephaestus leaned his head above hers and permitted tranquility to prosper for them.

Two lovers, thought to be a desert with no hope of rain, had blossomed into an oasis—brooding at the heart of the dancefloor. Silver eyes saw this sprouting love, a love rekindling from the depths of the abyss. Athena was happy for them. Even hoping that this would be the 'happily ever after' she knew that the two of them were silently wishing.

Her distant stares and solitary behavior rang a bell to Ares.

He looked back again to Hephaestus and Aphrodite. Upon seeing them locked in each other's embrace, he too, smiled. His reaction deeply surprised him. He stole Aphrodite from Hephaestus: eloped with her, and put shame on him—And here he was now, his past delinquency had finally taken over his well-being, making him pay a hefty price.

Instead of a predictable maddening reaction, he felt satisfied for the former bride and groom. The god of war even felt the sense of freedom breathing on his neck.

"I never knew you were capable of such a grin?" Athena complimented, a rare circumstance for a rare disposition displayed by Ares.

"Hmm?" He looked back at her. "Oh—" He breathed out, realizing what he was doing. "Should I be frowning? Angry per second? Or should I be brutally raging to each person here, much like how writers depicted me in their odes and essays?"

"No—smiling suits you." Said the goddess. Plain and simple, yet struck him to his core.

"Smiling suits me?" He thought.

As he looked into her eyes, a deep pool of glittering silver—full of wisdom, curiosity, and graciousness, Ares was suddenly caught off guard by some charm or oddity that caged his morals.

He was about to close the distance between them, a horrifying act that would have been, especially with Athena. So, he moved himself out, let go of her hands, and exited forlornly together with the change of music.

Athena was astounded and weirded out by him. Somehow, she ignored his quiet egress and went towards her little corner and back to becoming a spectator—a role she knew dearly by heart.

"Alone once more. Alone in my corner and not a soul to talk to. My kind of reward." Athena whispered a declaration.