Coming Out of Exile: The Strength of A Father's Love
By Moon Mistress

Chapter Nine

Ares’ Island

“What are we doing here, Father?” Calla demanded as she looked around his Throne Room. “We must go…”

“You must rest,” Ares growled.  “You cannot go into battle tired and hungry, what good will you be to Annie or anyone else if you are tempted by sleep and the rumblings in your belly or the dryness at the back of your throat while we’re down there?”

“We don’t have time for this!”

“Then you will make time.” Ares said in a no nonsense tone. “Poseidon bid you to rest for an hour but you did not.  You sat for a few moments with us and then you were off and running again. Keeping up such a pace will do  nothing other than wear you out and make you an easier target for…whoever is in the Underworld.” He gestured toward one of the chairs at his table. “Sit, my Queen.”

Patience was usually one of her strongest virtues but not today, not when Annie’s future as so uncertain.  Yes, there were bigger issues before them such as the future of Altair Ain and that of the Underworld. If Hades really wasn’t still ruling down there then that could prove to be quite the sticky situation. Still it was Annie, her sweet face and most of all it was the look on Nicholas’ face, the love in his eyes that shone only for his little Annie that haunted Calla most.  “Just a few moments.” She agreed reluctantly. On the table appeared a decanter of Nectar with two golden chalices, a large wooden bowl of Ambrosia and assorted meats and other foods.

“Eat.” Ares told her and then sat down across from her. “Although you fight well you know nothing of War. Nothing of planning and strategy.” He said and popped a green olive into his mouth.

Even though her stomach rumbled at the sight and smell of the food before her, Calla had no appetite.  “If it isn’t Hades then who?” She asked. “Who in the Underworld is strong enough, audacious enough! To unseat him?”

That was an excellent question perhaps he’d have to rethink his earlier statement regarding her ignorance of strategy.  “Other than your Children, no Olympians remain in the Underworld.” Ares said flatly.  “Who among them would do this?”

Calla’s mouth dropped open and her eyes widened in disgust. “One of my Children? No, Father, no.  None of them has any interest in such a thing. They were looking forward to being reborn soon.”  It was the scent that finally got the better of her, Calla poured a chalice of Nectar and wrapped a piece of lamb around a thick clump of Ambrosia.  The taste was heavenly and she ate the rather large chunk of meat in two bites chasing it down with Nectar.  As the last of the lamb and rosemary faded from her tongue she looked up at him. “You made this.”

Was that an accusation? “Yes.” Ares returned flatly.

“No, I mean…you made this.” She pointed to the meat tray laden with cheeses and olives. “With your own hands?”

She made it sound like there was something wrong with that. “It’s not poisoned.”

Calla, who’d been reaching for another slice of the meat, sat back in the chair and looked at him with a solemn face.  “Funny. I didn’t say it was, Father.”  She turned in the chair and looked around to see the Throne Room was in need of a good cleaning. She listened hard and heard nothing but silence bouncing off the rock walls.  “Where are your women?”

“I have no women.”

He was ill!  Father?  Without his harem?  Surely that was a sign of the Apocalypse. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Stop asking me that,” Ares growled. “I have no women, I have no use for them, I sent them all away.  What of it?  What business is it of yours, my Queen?”

Calla glanced down at the food on the table. “None,” she whispered and then looked up at him again. “Still you look ill to my eyes.  I am your Queen it is my place to worry about you.”

“I am in exile it is your place not to even think of me any longer.” He challenged.

“If you are ill then I demand you tell me so that I may help you.”

“Help me? I don’t want your help, my Queen” he sneered and got up from the table, walked to the cold hearth and started a blazing fire with a wave of his hand.

Pride. Ares was always so damn prideful.  Calla got up and crossed the room to take his hand.  Was it cold?  Yes, it was.  “Then how about the aid of your Daughter?  Will you accept that?”  She looked up at him and he looked down at her as he shook his head and tried to take back his hand but she wouldn’t let it go. “I’m sorry, Father.  I never wanted to send you away, I never wanted to be without you.  I had to do it for the good of the kingdom. You understand that, don’t you?  I love you with all my heart and I always have but your presence is so disruptive.  I can’t defend you to them forever. I can’t excuse or turn a blind to the bad things you sometimes do, not anymore. Please tell me you understand.”

Her hand was so small in his as he rubbed his thumb across the back of it.  So many years he’d waited for her to come here and say everything she just said.  Ares lowered his big frame to his knees so that they were eye to eye. “Heavy is the head that wears the crown,” he intoned softly. Still he worried, why wasn’t she screaming at him? Why wasn’t she railing at him over the way he’d just handed her to Bacchus when his temper got the better of him?  Why, in her mind, did it only seem to come down to Daniel and the kingdom? Surely she’d sent him away for more than that.  “I am so very proud of you, Calla, you have grown into a Queen they will write songs about and books and you will be remembered throughout the ages for your own deeds not merely because of your lineage.  They will look upon your favorably a thousand years from now while my name is still only uttered in darkness and in battle.  Without doubt or question you are the best thing this Old Man ever did, I could never ask for more in a Daughter.  I love you.”

Tears welled up in her eyes and her body suddenly became heavy as she leaned forward to wrap her slender arms around his neck burying her face in his salt n pepper hair. “I love you, Poppa.” She whispered. “I love you. Please if you’re ill let me help you. Please?”

Ares held on to her a little tighter. “I’m just old, Calla, that’s all.”  He soothed knowing that he was ill but not in the way she thought.

“Age so much in so short a time it’s not right.” She muttered.  “Am I killing you?” She pulled away from him to look at weathered face.  “Those ripples in the stream…Poppa?”

“No,” Ares whispered and brushed his hand along the side of her head.  “Even Warriors need rest.”

“What else do they need? Tell me and I will get it for you, whatever it is, I’ll get it.”

He couldn’t stand looking into her eyes any longer for if did then he surely he would break down and cry. How would that look? The God of War blubbering like a newborn? Instead he leaned in close and kissed her forehead.  “Come and rest with me, we have a long journey ahead of us.” Without opening those onyx eyes glistening with tears he scooped her up in his arms and brought her to his bed.

“Poppa?”

She sounded so small and innocent when he laid her down. She also sounded scared. “Rest, that’s all. Rest.”  He gathered some of the hides around her before ridding himself of the heavy vest and lying down next to her and taking her up in his arms once more.  Calla nuzzled her face into the hair on his chest. “Rest.” He bid once more reveling in the way her small body felt against him and how long he’d waited to feel her in his arms again. Soon she was sleeping but he was awake and stroking her hair as he covered the top of her head with kisses.  There was a strangely familiar lingering scent in her hair. Ares was tired, bone tired, but he didn’t want to miss a single moment of being with her like this.  When Morpheus first appeared in the room he thought he must have fallen asleep after all and was dreaming. Morpheus reached into the black pouch at his waist and came up with a handful of glittering dust. He extended his hand over Calla’s head and let the dust fall but Ares’ hand reached out to catch it. “What are you doing?”

“Making her sleep, isn’t that what you want?” Morpheus asked with mild surprise. “I will watch over her while you go to the Underworld.”

Ares looked at the gold dust in his hand, he could pour it on her and do just as Morpheus said. She would sleep and when she woke to find him gone…  “No, she’s coming with me.” Ares let the dust fall to the floor. “I thought you and Hades said David went away long ago.”

“He did.”

“Then why do I smell him on her?” Ares sneered and took in a deep sniff from the top of her head. It almost smelled like Jackson the difference was so slight that a lesser nose wouldn’t notice but Ares did.  “As though she’s been around him recently?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea.  You can’t be serious about taking her to the Underworld, she’s the Queen…”

“Exactly why she should go,” Ares said not liking the bitter taste of the words on his tongue. “You know as well as I that if she wakes and finds me gone she will only follow me.  Then she will be alone without my protection as she hunts for me and for Annie.”

Morpheus sighed. “She’s too much like you; stubborn.”

“Oh, well, and here I thought that was one of my better qualities.” Ares quipped lightly. “Go now and let us rest for a while.”

“It’s almost a pretty picture, you know.” Morpheus said lightly. “Father and Daughter entwined in each other’s arms, sleeping the night away, almost like Lovers.”

“Don’t…”

“You must miss her greatly, if you both survive your trip perhaps that will change.”  Morpheus faded away from view.

For one hour there was peace, there was calm and there was love in Ares’ life once more.  One hour was all they could afford before he woke her and told Calla it was time to go. She rolled over in his big empty bed still filled with the heaviness of sleep.  “Take off that rag,” he said to her, “here, take this.” Ares pulled a tunic from his closet. “You always liked this one.” He held it out to her as he bent over her.

Calla took it from his hand and recognized the white cloth in her hand instantly.  He wore this on special occasions only it was made of the finest linen and was finely embroidered with golden serpents and dragons.  She always thought he looked his most handsome when he wore this. “Turn around, Father.” She said to him unwilling to undress in front of his eyes.

Reluctantly Ares turned his back but he could see her reflection in his mirror as she took off the shredded night gown and slipped his tunic over her head.  She was still as beautiful today as she was the last time he saw all of her.  He told the stirring longing in his to sit down and shut up. Ares watched her climb out of the bed but waited to be told he could turn around so she wouldn’t know he was watching her.  Calla’s mouth opened and he readied himself to turn but then he saw one slender hand cover her lips and the other reached out to touch him.

“Oh Father,” she mourned as her fingertips grazed across the scars on his back. The ones she laid there with her whip. “I’m sorry.”

Ares drew in a deep breath and turned around.  “Don’t be, I deserved it. You were right.”

“I can take them from you, please let me do this.” She begged quietly.  Calla knew all to well what it was to bear such scars she couldn’t help but feel for him. More than that, she felt disgusted with herself for putting them there.

“No,” Ares said with a sad smile and hoisted the heavy leather vest back onto his frame covering the whip marks that crisscrossed his strong back. Now he was certain she didn’t remember. If he were to ask her why he’d been sent away she might well simply tell him that he’d done something wrong and be unable to recall exactly what that something had been. Maybe it was better that way, at least for her. “They remind me of what a fool I was and that I should never do such things again.” He stepped back to look at her standing there. “You’re always so beautiful.” Ares complimented as he looked at her in his tunic which hung to her knees. “Ready?”

Calla nodded.  “We should take food and drink with us.” She suggested.

“It’s already packed,” Ares told her.  “Take this,” he handed her one of his daggers. “Don’t refuse, Calla, you know as well as I that magick does not work so well in the Underworld and you may need this so take it.”   She reached out and took the blade from his hand. “Let’s go and bring your Annie back, find out what the hell is going on down there.”

Soon they were standing at the crag on his island, the one in the cliff face that lead to the Underworld. Ares put his big mitts into it and pushed the massive rock apart as though it were nothing more than a pair of French doors leading to a porch or a garden. With more than a small amount of trepidation filling his large body Ares ducked and squeezed in through the rock. Calla followed him.  They stood on the far hillside at the entrance to the Underworld and all was deathly quiet. 

“Where is Charon?” Ares asked as they began the descent down the red sandy hill littered with the souls of those waiting to cross and those who never would. They too were oddly quiet and let Ares and Calla pass without so much as a sideways glance.  The ferryman’s boat rested on the near shore but he was no where to be found.  Across from them just as Morpheus reported, the Gates to the Underworld stood open and unguarded. “Stay close to me.”  Slowly they neared the old leaky boat and there was not a single sign or life—or death as the case maybe—anywhere around them.  Looking around behind them, to the side and ahead of them Ares told her to get into the boat and he ferried them across the River Styx which was also oddly quiet.  The water still flamed but the leviathan did not break the surface and they docked on the other side without incident and Ares did something he’d never done before not in the whole of extremely long life; his foot stepped upon the far bank of the River Styx.  The closest he’d ever come to entering the Underworld was to stand on the opposite shore and rail at Hades from a distance.  Now here they stood in front of the massive wrought iron gates to the Underworld with Ares trying to show any sign of weakness or fear and Calla appearing as though this were an everyday thing for her.  In a way it was, she’d become very accustomed to coming down here and visiting with her children over the last decade.

“Have they all left?” Calla asked.  “Is that what this is? Are the dead all walking around above?”

“Let’s hope it’s not that bad,” Ares returned feeling the dread in his heart.  “Maybe you should go back.” He suggested as he gazed down at her.

“No, I won’t let you go in there alone.” She protested.  “It’s safer if we both go. If nothing else I know where my children are, they will tell us what has happened here.”  Sliding her hand into his, Ares reached out and plucked a nearby torch from its holder, together they walked beneath the Gates and into Hades’ Realm. The first thing they noticed was the smell, oh it always smelled down here, always wreaked of death and decay but this was different. It was closer somehow and it kept coming ever closer as they wound their way through the dark corridor that lead from the banks of the River Styx into the first level of the Underworld.  Calla gripped her Father’s hand a little tighter as she looked around and saw the walls dripping, almost bleeding, with some type of green slime.  She held her free hand against her nose. “What is it?”

Ares looked like he was ready to wretch from the stench invading his sensitive nostrils. “Death.” He replied.  Soon they discovered the reason for the heavy scent of decay.  With the Gate on the opposite end in sight they stumbled across the body of a very large dog with three heads. He handed the torch to Calla. “Cerberus!” Ares cried and dropped to his knees. The dog had arrows and swords sticking out of its body and two of its heads.  Its nails had been ripped out, three of its eyes had been gouged out and all of its throats cut. “Who would do this?” Ares asked as he looked up at Calla not believing the sight in front of him.  The Hound of Hell had been tortured to death and had probably gone out whimpering in pain.  Not a fitting end for such a noble beast.

Something was wrong here! Something was so terribly wrong here! “I don’t know Father perhaps we should…” she turned to look back the way they came holding her flame high to bring as much light as possible and was just in time to see the opposite Gate fall and hear it locked into place. The echoing sound of doom called out from all around them.  “Leave?” She finished and turned back to him. Ares was rising from his knees and took the torch back from her hand.

“Seems we’re expected.”  Torch in one hand he drew his sword with the other and held it at the ready before turning his gaze downward to meet Calla’s. The last thing he wanted now was for the other Gate to come down trapping them here in this hollow in-between place for only the gods knew how long.

“Stay behind you, that’s what you’re going to say, I know.”

“Stay right behind me,” Ares corrected. “Do not stray. This place zaps your strength, your magick and your will. It has the power to turn the most docile of creatures into rabid beasts. ”  A long with the fact that it was hot, dark and smelled bad, this was one main reasons he never ventured here.

Um, she thought, and since it can do that; what could it do to Ares?  “I’ve spent much time here, Father,” she said easily, “I know what I’m doing.”  Her visits had been short over the years as the Underworld did have a strange power to get into the head of anyone Living make them seem and say things they should not. Walking with her one foot behind him, the index finger of her right hand firmly hooked into his belt loop, and looking around his left flank to see where they were going they made the last ten yards or so into the first level of the Underworld only to have the second Gate close behind them.

“Well, it looks as though our company has finally arrived.” Kanan said and looked around at those he had hand picked to guard him and do his bidding. It was a small but loyal group of men consisting mostly of murders, thieves and rapists.  A lovely lot indeed but they were strong and they were stupid. They looked to him as a leader and if there was thing Kanan was it was a good leader. He always had been and he hoped to be again in just a short while.  Down here the Dead ruled and one was as solid and real as the next.  Down here the Dead ruled over the Living and he intended to use that fact to his best advantage while waging this small but very significant battle.  “See to it that they find us, we don’t want them getting lost.” Sweet little Annie and the Book of Shadows were in his possession. His ring had finally been returned to him. Daniel and Nicholas were securely locked away in the Dungeon and those in Altair Ain had no idea of what was playing out their only concern was whether or not the Shadows would return tonight. He’d even managed to use the Stargate without anyone noticing or batting an eye.  Kanan hadn’t killed those in the SGC but rather he put them some place where they’d be out of the way for a few moments in time and then returned them after seeing to it their stupid computer didn’t show any signs of their trip home. Now Ares and the Cha’Dech were here. Everyone and everything was exactly where Kanan wanted it now all he had to do was reached out and take back what was his. Before any of them could figure out exactly what was happening he’d be alive again. He’d have a fully functioning body that could travel easily between the worlds.  Kanan would sit on the throne of the Underworld and Altair Ain. He would rule over the whole of this world with an iron fist and suffer no fools.

End of Chapter Nine
Coming Out of Exile: The Strength of a Father's Love
by Moon Mistress
a/k/a Lisa Beth Darling
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Chapter Ten