Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ares advanced through the misty fields, the clang of his armor echoing with every step. The battle was over, and it had been as bloody and glorious as he had expected from a battle to which he had been called, but there was something different about this army that bothered him.

In his millennia of life, Ares had faced many different types of mortal armies: from the Achaeans, with their amusing sense of nobility and heroism, to the Dorians, who transformed the entire militarism of the Hellenics to the point of influencing Ares himself, to the recent Persian invasions and all their cavalry, which aroused a bit of curiosity in the god. This army contained a type of people he had never seen before: men with skin so pale it peeled in the sun and hair as red as faded fabric.

It was a small group, only five men, perhaps mercenaries from distant lands. The color of their hair, above all, was what caught Ares's attention. He would have liked to learn more about them, had he not been so busy ripping bodies apart with his sword that he thought they needed to be alive.

Oh, well, what a shame.

With the enemy's defeat, his army had retreated, having taken what they could of their fallen. Soon, those from the defeated army would arrive to clean up the blood-soaked field, which was now plunged into a deathly silence. Although disheartening, Ares, living up to his nickname "vulture," sometimes enjoyed walking through the fields of the fallen and collecting any weapons he found interesting for his collection.

That was when he spotted the corpse of one of those foreigners.

The man had fallen with a look of terror on his face, his wide eyes now empty, his mouth open in a silent scream. Poor wretch... he came from so far away to die in a strange land.

Ares noticed that in his hands he held a kind of necklace, clasped tightly between his joined fingers, almost in a prayer gesture, one he remembered seeing some worshippers of the new god make. The necklace caught his attention a little, but not enough, especially when, at that moment, the silence of the battlefield was broken by a gallop, followed by the chilly air that came with a mysterious mist.

"Hmm?" Was all Ares muttered upon noticing the strange phenomenon, turning his head toward the sound of hooves. What he saw was no ordinary knight, or just a scout.

What he saw was a creature.

At first, it could easily have been mistaken for a knight in fancy, shining armor astride a black horse who had appeared unexpectedly, were it not for his figure being surrounded by a supernatural mist, bringing with it the promise of death, and, most importantly, for the lack of a visible head.

This made Ares slightly curious, and he stood up without taking his eyes off the being.

"What in Tartarus is this? Some unfortunate idiot who refuses to stay dead?" The god of war scoffed, drawing his sword. He let out a snort of derision at the lack of an answer, not moving until the knight did, advancing toward him with his sword drawn.

Ares didn't hesitate. He charged at the headless horseman with the fury of a thousand battles, his sword slicing through the air with a sharp hiss.

The fight was brief, almost anticlimactic.

The creature struck quickly, the black blade slicing through the air and striking Ares in the neck. He barely felt the impact, reacting instinctively. His sword cut the creature's figure in two, and it disappeared in an explosion of shadows.

With it all over, Ares touched his neck where he'd been struck. There was no blood, just a thin, almost invisible line on his skin and a slight itch he ignored, attributing it solely to the heat of the battle.

"Wretched creature. It wasn't even worth fighting." A disappointment, but then again, he was a god. And what was a supernatural being compared to a god?

Exactly. Nothing.

With the creature defeated, Ares returned to Olympus, certain that the confrontation had been nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

The mountain that sheltered the divine beings shone resplendently in the high sky, giving him the feeling of arriving at a home Ares hadn't realized he was missing until he passed the tall columns separating the gates of Olympus and entered its streets.

His feet carried him to the Main Sanctuary, where he found Apollo and Dionysus in the main hall, both apparently engaged in a trivial argument. Apollo sat on one of the many marble walls, leaning against a column, tuning his golden lyre, while Dionysus reclined on a couch, drinking something that appeared to be his new invention.

They both looked up when Ares entered, his presence dominating the room.

"Ah, the great conqueror returns!" Apollo joked as he tuned the strings. "Which poor city was the victim this time?"

"Don't worry, little sunshine. It wasn't any of your cities, just some Persian idiots who insist on infesting our lands!" Ares replied, with his usual impatient expression.

"Then why the grimace?" Dionysus asked, raising his cup. "Wasn't that a satisfying victory? You usually take pleasure in slaughtering them!"

Ares snorted, but before he could respond, the sound of rapid footsteps echoed through the hall. Hermes entered the hall, as usual, in a frenzy of energy. And he slammed into Ares with enough force to knock them both off balance. Ares staggered from the impact as his sword fell with a loud clang against the marble floor.

"Hermes, stop running like a runaway chariot!" Ares growled, straightening himself.

"Sorry, big guy. I was just excited! You won't believe what Priapus tried to do. And to our Aunt Hestia, no less!"

"Are we going to have to hide a body?" Apollo joked.

Hermes laughed, but before he could say anything, the unexpected happened. A dry, muffled sound filled the hall. Everyone looked around in confusion, their eyes widening in shock as they realized what had happened.

Apollo looked down, his expression frozen between horror and disbelief, when none other than Ares's head rolled toward him, his eyes wide, his mouth open.

.

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"What... what in Chaos..."

To the horror of the three gods, Ares looked at him just as confused, raising his eyebrows.

"Hey, why in Tartarus are you so high up? When I was so close to the ground?!"

"Ares, your... your head—" Dionysus pointed, looking at the drink he was holding to make sure he wasn't drunk.

Hermes was the one who caught the head, holding it carefully, as if he feared it would explode in his hands. Ares, to everyone's surprise, was very much alive—or at least, his head was. His eyes and mouth moved normally, and he looked at them with a hint of awe as his perspective changed when Hermes lifted him.

"Hey, Hermes, what was that? What are you doing? Why can't I feel my body?!"

Hermes, who was still processing the scene, stared at Ares's head for a long moment before bursting into uncontrollable laughter, shaking his head, much to Ares's anger.

“You’ve lost your head!” the winged god managed, panting with laughter. “Literally!”

Ares was not amused.

“This isn’t a joke, you idiot! Stop shaking me and put my head back on! Now!”

Apollo, trying to maintain his composure, hesitantly approached and took Ares’s head from Hermes’s hands, holding it as if it were a dangerous artifact. He turned it around, examining it as if searching for a hidden switch.

“How is this possible?” he asked, perplexed. “You… you’re alive! You’re alive, right?”

“Of course I’m alive! I’m talking to you!” Ares shouted. “Now, put my head back on!”

Dionysus stepped forward, still stunned.

“Is this… is this some kind of joke? From you?!? Didn’t you do anything strange while you were gone?”

"No! I just killed a damned creature!" Ares replied. "I didn't do anything I don't do every day!"

The chaos was interrupted by the worst person who could have appeared at that moment; none other than Zeus. The king of the gods appeared with his imposing figure, calling for Hermes and looking a little irritated, as if he had been calling the messenger for some time.

But he didn't even finish his son's name, stopping when he saw the scene before him—Apollo holding Ares's head, Hermes laughing maniacally, and Dionysus with an expression of confusion.

"What's going on here?" he demanded, his voice trembling slightly with disbelief. "Apollo, why are you holding your brother's head? What are you doing to him?!"

"Father, it's not what it looks like!" He tried to justify himself, tossing Ares's head to Dionysus, who caught it reflexively, staring at Ares's slightly dazed and irritated expression with wide eyes.

“Isn’t it?!” Zeus stared at the scene. His mind, wise as it was, failed to comprehend what his eyes saw.

“It wasn’t us, Father!” Apollo protested, almost whimpering. “It just fell!”

“Just… fell?” Zeus repeated in disbelief. His eyes fixed on Hermes, who still couldn’t stop laughing. “Hermes! Is this your doing?”

“I swear it’s not!” Hermes replied, raising his hands in surrender. “It was him!” He pointed at Ares, still laughing. “He just lost his head!”

“Stop saying that!” Ares shouted, his voice echoing through the hall. “And someone, please, PUT MY HEAD BACK ON!”

Zeus ran his hand over his face, clearly trying to process the situation. He approached Apollo, staring at Ares's head with a mixture of horror and fascination, wondering how something like this could have happened. How could Ares be alive without his head? He was certainly a god, but still.

"Before you ask, Father, yes, I am alive!" Ares replied irritably, as if he could read his mind. "I can hear everything you're saying, in case you haven't noticed! And answering back."

Zeus took a deep breath, trying to remain calm.

"Okay. Let's settle this. Apollo, put his head back on his body."

"What? Me?" Apollo exclaimed, clearly uncomfortable.

Zeus looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "And who else here is the god of medicine?"

"But what if I do something wrong?"

"Just do it!" Zeus ordered, his patience wearing thin.

Apollo reluctantly approached Ares's body, his head in his hands once more. The body, which had been forgotten until then due to the bizarre detached head, was still standing in the middle of the hall, completely motionless. He tried to align the head with the neck, using his divine healing gifts in the hope of reattaching it, but as soon as he let go, it fell back down, rolling across the floor.

"Argh!" Ares shouted, clearly frustrated. "Do it right, idiot!"

"Be quiet, Ares," Apollo growled, picking up the head and positioning it over the severed neck. He once again tried to use his powers, pouring so much divine energy into his body that the emanating glow nearly blinded him. But once again, as he released it, Ares's head nearly fell off again, but this time he managed to catch it before it painfully hit the ground.

"You're useless, Apollo!"

"Again, be quiet, Ares! I've never needed to put a head back on!" Apollo complained, looking at Zeus with pleading eyes. "Father..."

Opening and closing his mouth uncertainly, Zeus approached, trying to put Ares's head back on himself, but again, nothing. It left him with a pit in his stomach. He was the king of the gods, the greatest power, yet he still couldn't repair that... curse.

It had to be it. A curse.

But what kind of curse could do this to a god? He wondered with a dark look.

At that moment, Athena appeared in the hall, drawn by the commotion. She stopped at the sight, her analytical mind quickly working to piece it together.

"This is new," she said, looking at Ares's grimace in Apollo's hands. "I knew you didn't always keep your head together, but this is kind of literal, brother."

"Ha Ha. You're sooooo funny!" Ares rolled his eyes at her.

Athena approached them, observing the separated body and head, tilting her own head slightly as she analyzed the situation. The cut was clean, perfect on both sides, with no blood dripping. It was as if Ares were made of marble, rather than flesh and ichor.

"This is the work of dark magic!" she said seriously, faintly recognizing a dark energy emanating from the cut. "What happened to make you look like this?"

Ares then recounted his encounter with the mysterious headless horseman on the battlefield and their brief duel.

"A supernatural creature, Ares? Seriously?!" Zeus looked at him with a look half-pained, half-disappointed, incredulous that a mere creature would be superior to a god enough to hurt him.

"What?! You think I wanted to end up like this? Not even you could put my head back on straight!!"

"Hey, now listen here—"

"Okay, I think I understand," Athena said, before they could begin arguing. Four pairs of heads turned toward her, the other only looking away, as it was in a slightly crooked position. "It seems to me that this creature's sword has the ability to sever the essence of a being, even a divine one. It will take me a while to find a way to undo it, but I will try as soon as possible!"

The hall fell silent. Zeus looked at his children, clearly frustrated, then at Ares's severed head and body, his heart twisting strangely in his chest.

Finally, he sighed.

“Very well. Athena, you’re in charge of finding a solution. Apollo, take care of Ares’s head. Dionysus, Hermes, you’ll take care of his body. Try not to get into trouble.”

“What?” Apollo, Hermes, and Dionysus exclaimed at the same time. “But, father—!!”

“You heard!” Zeus replied, before disappearing in a flash of light, clearly not wanting to deal with the situation.

Apollo looked at Ares’s head, which stared back at him with an expression of pure disdain.

“This is going to be a long day,” he muttered with a resigned sigh.

“If it’s bad for you, imagine how bad it is for me,” Ares scoffed.

“Well, maybe this will help you keep your head on straight next time.” Athena teased a bit, walking away with a slight shrug, ignoring Ares’s angry insults. Unfortunately, it was all he could do.

And so, while Athena began working on a solution, Apollo, Hermes, and Dionysus were left to deal with the now-fragmented god of war, cursing their luck for finding themselves in this situation. And to think the day had started so well…

<3

Ares would never admit it out loud, but the sight of his own body wandering Olympus without any control or coordination bothered him more than he would have liked. It was a mixture of discomfort and embarrassment, compounded by the fact that his three brothers weren't helping at all.

Apollo, still holding Ares's head, seemed the only person trying to take the situation seriously, though his nervousness was evident. Hermes, on the other hand, was absolutely fascinated by the headless body's behavior, following him like a child chasing a walking toy. Dionysus, in the end, had decided that the only way to deal with this absurdity was with plenty of wine—perhaps more than was advisable, considering the state of things.

"He's like a puppet without strings!" Hermes commented, laughing as Ares's body stumbled against a marble bench and nearly fell.

After Zeus and Athena left, his body began to move on its own, as if his father's warning to stay out of trouble was the trigger for him to start causing trouble. He moved aimlessly and nearly crashed into some pillars, if not for Hermes's last-minute intervention, then seemed to realize he had a sword at his waist and began swinging it, as if he were practicing.

"This isn't funny at all, Hermes!" Ares grumbled. "Make my body be still, already, before I end up hitting something or someone!"

"Why do you think he'd listen to me? When have you ever listened to anyone? And how would he listen if his ears are right here, in your head?!" Apollo complained, fighting the stress he felt building. His skin would be dry after this ordeal. "Besides, the biggest problem here isn't Hermes, but the fact that his body seems to have a mind of its own!"

"The biggest problem is that no one is trying to solve this in a useful way!" Ares shouted. "I don't know, tie him up with chains or ropes or something!"

"And end up being attacked by a wall of muscles with a sword in their hands? I'd rather not!" Hermes scoffed. "It's amazing how your body seems to miss war, even without your head to command it. Didn't you just come back from one?"

"Or maybe he's just bored, like us," Dionysus added, taking another sip of wine.

Ares gritted his teeth, helpless in the face of the scene.

His head, now positioned in a corner near Apollo, was the only part of himself that seemed to retain a shred of dignity. Even so, there was something unsettling about watching his own body act as if it were a separate entity. Try as he might to ignore it, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was witnessing something that simply shouldn't be happening.

The worst moment came when the body, seemingly tired of fighting the air, began walking toward the exit of the hall. Hermes quickly stepped in its path.

"Hey, hey, hey! Where do you think you're going?" he said, trying to intercept the body, but it completely ignored him, walking past him as if he were an insignificant obstacle.

Apollo hurriedly stood up, holding Ares's head firmly. A little too firmly.

"Someone stop him before he leaves Olympus!"

"Someone stop me before I end up the laughingstock of all Olympus!"

Dionysus rolled his eyes, clearly displeased.

"Why does this have to be our responsibility? He's the one who lost his mind, literally." He grumbled, but he was already standing and waving his arms, causing weeds to spring from the ground and wrap around Ares's body.

"He's our brother!" Apollo retorted, watching the ivy vines ensnare the headless body. "And you don't want to see what Father will do to us if this gets out of hand!"

And as if to find out, Ares's body grabbed the ivy and easily broke it, continuing to move. This was like a challenge to Dionysus, who summoned more ivy and held it tighter, leaving marks on the brown skin. It was a good thing Ares wasn't in pain now that they were separated.

The body still tried to struggle a bit, but Dionysus did a good job. Sure, it cost the sanctuary's marble floor, but nothing that couldn't be easily fixed in a divine realm.

"What do we do if he's just going to wander around like this, aimlessly?" Apollo wondered. "Ares, do you want to help?"

Ares sighed.

"How? I have no control over him now!"

"Well, I have the perfect idea!" Hermes said with a smile, making his brothers look at him curiously.

Hermes's brilliant idea was to place Ares's body in the arena he used for his usual practice and leave him there, wielding whatever weapons he could reach or Hermes wanted to hand over to observe, like someone watching a circus act.

At least his body was somewhere where no one would see it and humiliate him. Ares could already imagine the jokes they would make if they knew he'd been the target of a mere curse. The god of war, so full of himself, now a headless body, relegated to being carried around like an ornament.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, he figured, since those worst suited to know about this situation already knew. When it was all over, he could already imagine the jokes his brothers would make. Athena would look at him with that discreet, superior smile after finding the solution to the problem he'd gotten himself into without even realizing it.

He just hoped this wouldn't last too long.

Not even noon, and he was already in pain.

"Hey, Ares, where are you sleeping tonight?" Dionysus asked suddenly. Ares was silent for a moment, blinking slowly, as if he hadn't thought about it until then (he hadn't. None of them, actually).

"Anywhere where no one can see me. You can leave me here, okay? I don't mind!"

The three of them looked at each other, a little guilty that they couldn't do much in this situation.

"And you end up being attacked by some wild beast and having your face eaten? I'd rather not. I'm taking you with me!"

Ares groaned. "Where would a wild beast come from here, on Olympus?" He grumbled.

"With Dionysus around, you never know," Apollo teased.

"Okay, okay. Whatever. But I'll kill you if you keep playing that damn lyre of yours while I'm there!" Ares threatened, even if it was an empty threat.

Chapter Text

Despite his fears, staying with Apollo for the night wasn't the worst thing Ares had ever experienced. Of course, it would have been better if he had a body, but if he had a body, he wouldn't be in Apollo's sanctuary, which would have been the best option for him, but beggars couldn't choose, right?

Apollo's sanctuary was large, open on almost all sides so that the sun's rays could enter and the music could flow freely, much to Ares's dismay, and the Muses also resided there, but at least that night, Apollo took pity on him and invented some excuse for them not to be present.

Apollo also didn't play music late into the night as Ares feared ("Do you really think I spend the night playing music? I have to sleep too!" Apollo retorted). But he still had to wake up early. As soon as dawn broke in the sky, Apollo was already awake, and unfortunately, so was he.

"Why, in the name of Chaos, do you wake up so early if you don't even drive the sun chariot?" Ares complained as Apollo crept through Olympus, taking the less crowded routes. "And stop walking like that; you just look more suspicious! You're lucky there's no one around!"

"I'm still a sun god, so it's part of the job. And stop complaining; you're the one who doesn't want anyone to see you like this! I'm doing you a favor!"

Ares grumbled, but said nothing more, trying not to feel nauseous while Apollo carried him. He still wasn't used to that sight; it was so strange to see himself shorter than normal... he felt disconnected and still had phantom sensations of his lost body.

Speaking of his body, it was still there in the arena, trapped by Dionysus's vines, who thought it best to lock him up so he wouldn't leave if he got bored. As if he were a dog, being kept suspended in the air so he had nowhere to grab onto and move. But he couldn't complain. Finally, he agreed.

“I hate this sight.” Ares grumbled, seeing himself like that. Apollo just shrugged, not knowing what to say either. It was, really, very bizarre. “Where is Dionysus to get me out of here? I swear I feel my body itching with these vines just looking at them!”

“Can't we just... leave him there?” Apollo asked. Ares was silent for a while.

“Can you lift me up a little, Apollo?” The god of music complied with the request, the redhead's head staring at the headless body. “Turn me towards you, okay?” Apollo did. Ares glared at him. “ARE YOU MAKING FUN OF ME? Let me tie you to a column and we'll see if you like it!”

“I'm not the one who lost my head and has an uncontrolled body!” Apollo complained.

The two began to argue, complaining to each other about everything and nothing, until Hermes arrived, carrying a half-asleep Dionysus in his arms.

“Sorry for the delay; someone was being difficult to wake up!” Hermes said, letting go of Dionysus, who yawned.

“It's still early.”

“Whatever; do you mind releasing my body now?”

“Before that,” Hermes said, interrupting Dionysus. “I think I know a way to solve your problem, Ares!”

“You do?” The three gods turned to Hermes, surprised. The messenger god puffed out his chest, convinced.

“Let's go to Hephaestus!” The three stared at him in silence, somewhat confused by what he was trying to suggest.

“Hephaestus?” Dionysus asked. “And how is he going to solve the problem of Ares's detached head?”

“He makes constructs, doesn't he? Besides weapons and magical objects... I'm sure he must know something that can solve the problem of Ares's loose head!” said Hermes. None of the other three were sure Hephaestus would know how to solve that problem, but they hadn't yet heard about Athena and they had no solution in sight, so why not try?

“Okay, whatever. I just want my body back!” Ares grumbled, defeated.

So Hephaestus's workshop was their destination.

They knew they would find him standing. Hephaestus worked practically non-stop; day and night, night and day, his forges were constantly in operation, filled with the sound of hammers against anvils, the air inside boiling with the heat of the forges.

They found Hephaestus, as expected, hunched over a workbench. The blacksmith god barely noticed them until Hermes called out to him, raising an eyebrow at the sight of his three brothers. Together. There. He looked suspiciously mainly at Apollo, who had what looked like a stone wrapped in his arms.

“Hi…”

“Hey, Hephaestus, bro!” Hermes approached him with a wide smile that only made the blacksmith even more suspicious.

“Do you need something?”

“So, can we go somewhere a little more... private?” Apollo suggested. Hephaestus glanced at the cyclops working for him and at his brothers again, shrugging before heading to a second forge, which he used for his personal projects.

“Okay, are you going to tell me what the problem is here or am I going to have to guess?” Hephaestus asked. He was answered by Apollo unwrapping Ares's irritated head, which made him raise both eyebrows.

“Don't ever do that again!” Ares snarled at Apollo. He had been in contact with Apollo's skin, and the feeling of the soft, sun-scented skin he had been subjected to was the most disgusting thing he had ever experienced in his life. The worst. The second worst, at least.

Apollo ignored him.

“What happened?”

Ares gave a brief summary while Dionysus broke through the floor to release the vines that had Ares's body trapped in them. Hephaestus merely glanced at the hole in the stone floor, but the severed body in front of him was more interesting.

He leaned over Ares's body with an almost fascinated look, analyzing every detail of the divine musculature, the clean cut on the neck, and the way the tendons seemed to react to stimuli even without the command of a head.

“Interesting... very interesting.” Hephaestus murmured, picking up a small hammer and lightly tapping Ares's knee. The leg moved for a moment, and Ares felt an uncomfortable itch from it.

“What are you doing?” Ares asked, annoyed. “I asked for help, not a medical examination!”

Hephaestus shrugged, clearly indifferent to his brother's frustration.

“I'm studying. I need to understand how your body is functioning, even without your head, in order to do something. Besides, what do you expect me to do?”

“I don't know; anything to hold my head in place!” Hephaestus merely let out an agreeing "hmmm," looking at the head analytically. Ares wanted to squirm, but he didn't have a body, so he could only grimace, but he hated being under someone's judgmental gaze, even if it was a "professional" gaze. It made him feel vulnerable, and he wanted to growl and ask how long he would keep staring at him.

"I don't think I'll have a real solution for you," Hephaestus said, "from what I understand, you've been cursed, and without knowing exactly what kind of curse it is, I won't know what might be effective, but perhaps I have a temporary solution."

He went to a shelf full of strange tools and returned with a kind of thick collar, forged with gold and adamantine wires. There were runes inscribed along the chain, pulsing with a subtle energy.

"This should work as a limiter," he explained, wrapping the chain around Ares' neck after instructing Apollo to hold his head in place. "It might help keep your head in place!"

"I'm not going to wear a collar!" Ares snarled, his indignation reaching new levels. "Do you want to humiliate me even more?"

"It's not like you have a choice, brother," Hermes replied, shrugging. "You want your body back, don't you?"

Ares was silent for a few moments before muttering, "This is a nightmare."

"Welcome to our world," Dionysus said, taking a sip of wine he conjured from thin air.

"And why do you have that?" Hermes asked.

"It's a prototype I made for Cerberus at Hades' request."

Upon hearing this, Dionysus and Hermes burst into laughter, while Apollo rolled his eyes at their antics. He watched intently as Hephaestus fastened the collar precisely over the cut. A subtle golden glow ran along the cut, and slowly, Apollo stepped back, looking at Ares expectantly. When it seemed that the head remained firmly attached to the neck, everyone sighed with relief.

“Finally! We’re free!” exclaimed Dionysus, throwing his hands in the air.

Ares rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes. We’re all free. Thank you, Hephaestus, I owe you one.”

Hephaestus shrugged. “If it takes a while to fix your head, let me examine your body afterward. It might be useful for me to create some constructs in the future!”

“Riiiiight. We’ll see about that!”

Relieved to have his head back in place, Ares was more than happy to leave Hephaestus's forges, hoping to return to his normal routine. He still felt a little strange, his body feeling both light and heavy... Ares couldn't quite describe it, it was just... a strange, somewhat unnerving feeling of disconnection from himself. Almost as if that body wasn't his.

"You must be relieved, huh?" Hermes pointed out. "Now, take care of that head so you don't lose it again!" And he slapped Ares on the back. With a little force, but not too much.

Even so, it was enough for Ares's head to come loose, only from the collar that was supposed to hold it in place, falling and rolling down the stairs. The three gods groaned at the sight, realizing they hadn't gotten rid of the problem.

"Congratulations, Hermes. You've knocked his head off. Again!" Apollo grumbled.

"It was an accident!!" Hermes exclaimed, whining.

"I'm going to kill you, you idiot!" Ares snarled at Hermes when Apollo picked him up again. He had fallen against a bush and was not at all happy to have his skin scratched. If he could, he would have bitten that idiotic messenger, but unfortunately, Hermes was far away from him.

"It was an accident!" Hermes whined, hiding and leaning against Dionysus's back.

"Okay, okay. Let's get his body and go back to the arena before Ares's body decides to give you a few slaps too." Apollo sighed, walking ahead, leaving Dionysus to hold him in his vines and drag him along before he ran off. He was already going down the steps of the stairs, stumbling and falling a few steps down and stopping in a bush.

Ares groaned. He would have nasty bruises the next day if he left it like that. He could already feel the swelling of a bump forming and gods... This was irritating. Luckily, Apollo noticed and healed him, but not without a little teasing. “You’re welcome, brother. I know I’m wonderful, and you’ll compensate me handsomely for helping you.”

“As a doctor, shouldn’t you help others without expecting a reward?”

“As if pure kindness sustains anyone.” Apollo rolled his eyes, wrapping Ares in his chiton to avoid attracting too much attention.

“You’re a god, you charlatan!” Ares spat, refusing to admit that the relief was more than welcome. “Can you stop holding me like that? I’m touching you too much!”

“If I let you fall again, you’d call me incompetent, this is the best way to carry you!” Apollo retorted, slightly ill-humored.

“Because you ARE incompetent!”

“Ungrateful people always say that,” Apollo grumbled, starting to walk.

Their brief interaction was interrupted by the scent of roses carried on a gentle breeze, followed by a sweet voice calling them. “Boys!”

Aphrodite was coming down the side gallery, dressed in a shimmering chiton in shades of pale pink and gold, her hair flowing down like a fragrant waterfall. Her perfume preceded her presence, sweet and irresistible—the kind of scent that Ares loved and, on any other occasion, would kill anyone who prevented him from experiencing it up close.

But at that moment...

“Damn it,” Ares hissed. “Hide me. NOW!”

Apollo looked at him, desperate. “Hide you? Where, exactly?!”

“I don't care! Put me in a vase, a bag, behind a column—anything! Just don't let her see me like this!”

Before Apollo could say anything, Dionysus was faster. With impressive speed, his vines appeared and enveloped both Apollo and Ares's head, sucking them both into the ground along with the body he was carrying. It was so fast that it almost seemed like magic, and neither of them had time to cry out in surprise.

“Hey, you two.” Aphrodite called out to them again. “Have either of you seen Ares? He should have been back by now, but he still hasn't come to see me!”

“Ares? Who is Ares?” Dionysus asked, receiving an elbow from Hermes.

“He... he returned to Earth, didn't you know?” The messenger said with a winning smile. Aphrodite raised one of her beautiful eyebrows, incredulous. “Father sent him!” Hermes quickly blurted out, without any remorse in throwing his father under the bus.

“Zeus? Sent Ares to Earth? Alone?” The goddess crossed her elegant arms over her beautiful bust, shifting her hips to the side, still disbelieving. “Funny, Enyo didn't tell me anything about a new campaign.”

“That's because it's not a campaign!” Hermes continued. “If you want to know more, you'll have to ask our king. I'm just the messenger!”

Aphrodite still looked at him suspiciously and glanced at a crater in the ground that was left after Dionysus's vines disappeared. She stared at the said god of wine, waiting for an explanation, but Dionysus only gave a crooked smile, making a glass of wine appear in his hand.

“So, would you like to attend my next party? This one's going to be a blast. Better than the last one!”

Aphrodite rolled her eyes, tossing her hair to the side, and the perfume that gesture exuded almost left both gods stunned. “I’m going to refuse. Okay, I know you’re hiding something, but so be it. But if I find out you’re plotting something I won’t like…”

“Don’t worry, we always have good intentions!” Hermes assured her, to which Aphrodite scoffed good-humoredly.

“Sure, sure.”

Seeing that she wouldn't get anything from them, Aphrodite walked away, perhaps to see Zeus and question him about Ares. The two gods watched her leave for a moment before they began to move away themselves, taking a different path before disappearing into the arena they had occupied the previous day, just to be safe, in case the goddess of love decided to follow them.

Only upon arriving at the arena did Dionysus make the vines emerge from the ground and release their contents, which fell like sacks of potatoes, Apollo still holding his brother's head and looking a little worse for wear.

“Never — And I say, never, do that again!” The blonde gasped, shuddering slightly as he got up. The feeling of spending minutes enveloped in vines in a suffocating space was the most unpleasant thing he had ever experienced in his life.

Ares wasn't happy about it either. His eyes flashed with red embers, which would have been more threatening in his entire body, even though only his head was a bizarre sight.

“You’ll be another one I’ll kill when I get back to normal!” He promised.

To his annoyance, Dionysus didn't seem too worried about it, and for his own good, he decided not to worry about the idiot while he was in that compromising situation. At least now they were back in the isolation of the arena and he could "relax".

Relaxing... if there was one thing he didn't feel at that moment, it was the feeling of being relaxed.

Ares had never faced anything like this. He was the god of war, accustomed to chaos, blood, and death. But being reduced to a head separated from his body, unable to control it, was a completely different kind of horror. He complained incessantly, sometimes shouting at Apollo, Hermes, and Dionysus, trying his best to maintain his facade of self-control and sobriety. However, inside, he was... afraid.

It wasn't the fear that came from a strong enemy or a tangible threat. It was something much deeper, something he couldn't crush with his hands or defeat with his sword. There was a strange connection between him and his body—vague, almost spectral sensations. Ares could feel erratic movements, the stretching of muscles and the tension in the joints, but without any control whatsoever.

It was like being inside a bizarre dream, where he saw himself from afar, unable to do anything. Powerless. He tried to ignore it the day before, but after that brief moment when his head was connected to his body again, only to be separated minutes later, the feeling only became stronger and more violent.

It wasn't just an inconvenience. It was a disconnection from himself.

And this disconnection disturbed him more than any wound he had ever suffered in battle. More than any terror he had ever experienced. Except for the thirteen months trapped in that jar.

But Ares said nothing.

He didn't want his brothers to know.

Dionysus, in particular, was an expert at turning any weakness into a prolonged joke. The number of times Ares had to endure a joke about him losing his head had already lost its humor after the first joke. Hermes would probably find a way to mock him even more, after he no longer had to babysit a headless body, and Apollo, with his eternal air of superiority, even though he seemed genuinely concerned about him at the moment, once it was over, would make comments that would make him seem weak.

Ares knew it would be like that. He had known them for millennia. And he couldn't stand it. So, he limited himself to complaining. Especially because his body was once again acting on its own, swinging a sword in the air, cutting the vines that Dionysus was making sprout before him.

"You three are absolutely useless!" He pointed out, huffing.

Dionysus took a sip from his cup, without even looking at Ares's head, focused on the headless body. He was having a little fun making vines sprout from the ground for Ares's body to cut. Even without a head, the body seemed to sense where the vines were coming from and cut them with a certain skill. It was intriguing, and he was indeed having a little too much fun.

But all of that was controlled madness. And he was the god of madness.

Apollo, holding Ares's head with an irritatingly ceremonial care, looked at him with an expression of exasperation.

"You're not making anything easier, Ares. Complaining won't solve the situation! To be honest, there's not much we can do until Athena completes the ritual."

"Complaining is all I can do right now!" Ares retorted. "Or do you think I like being like this?"

Apollo and Hermes exchanged glances. They knew Ares was being unbearable, but there was something in his voice that suggested more than anger. Perhaps it was frustration, or... something deeper. It was understandable that he was like this, after the fiasco with the necklace. His hope for normalcy was broken very quickly and easily.

Dionysus, however, seemed unconcerned.

"Do you know what's interesting about all this?" He asked, finally breaking the silence, finishing his wine. “Even without you, your body still acts as if it’s at war. It’s almost as if it doesn’t need you.”

“‘Doesn’t need me?’” Ares roared. “This body is mine! It exists because of me, Dionysus!”

Dionysus shrugged.

“Sure, sure. But maybe he’s developed… how can I say… a mind of his own. Who knows, maybe he doesn’t like being without you, huh?”

“That doesn’t make sense! Shut up, you annoying drunk, before I create a new body just to punch you!” Ares threatened, but there was something in Dionysus's taunt that deeply bothered him. Because it did seem like his body was starting to enjoy that freedom.

And that frightened him considerably.

If his body no longer needed him, what did that mean? What would become of him as a head? Something useless?

No, he couldn't share that fear with the others.

Tired of watching him swing the sword, Hermes decided to give the headless body a spear, turning it towards a target on the other side of where they were.

“Hey, big guy. Try hitting that target!” Hermes shouted, as if that would make the body hear, patting its shoulder and turning it in the desired direction.

The body turned towards him and aimed in the desired direction, leaning back to throw the spear. It was an almost perfect pose, but observing his body, Ares knew it wouldn't hit. He still tried to warn him, but it was too late and the spear crossed the air. Far from the target.

Instead, it went into the open area of ​​the arena, where the columns opened onto the almost inhospitable fields surrounding the little-frequented arena. The area from which Zeus was coming.

They barely had time to shout for Zeus to watch out before the spear fell at his feet, narrowly missing him, and only because he heard the unmistakable sound of a spear cutting through the air and, in an automatic reflex, dodged to the side, feeling the wind pass close to his shoulder. The spear embedded itself in the column beside him with impressive force, splitting the marble in two.

Zeus stopped, turned slowly, and found Ares' body standing in the center of the arena, holding another spear, about to throw it again, if not for Hermes quickly taking the spear from his hand and Dionysus restraining the body with his vines.

"This can only be a joke," Zeus thought, feeling a pang of disbelief.

Apollo, who had noticed his father's presence, hastily dropped Ares' head and ran towards him.

"Father! I can explain!" Apollo stood up, agitated. "Or rather, I don't even know why I should explain anything. It wasn't my fault!"

"It wasn't our fault either!" Hermes quickly added. "He has a mind of his own, you saw! We can't control him!"

"What I saw is that some of you seemed to be enjoying his situation a little too much." Zeus crossed his arms, unimpressed. Hermes didn't answer, avoiding his father's gaze with a little embarrassment. Zeus decided to let it go. For now. Instead, he turned to Ares. "Any reason why your body is attacking me?"

"How would I know?" If he could, Ares would have shrugged. "It's an extension of me, but without my mind. It must be some kind of instinct... or a reflection of accumulated irritation!"

"Reflection of irritation?" Zeus repeated, somewhat incredulous. "Over me?"

Ares averted his eyes, or at least tried to, since his head was stuck in a fixed position. Once again, if he could, he would have shrugged.

"Alright... then I'll give you another reason to be angry with me, because we're going to see your mother!"

"What?! Why?!!!" Ares shouted, indignant.

"Because she's your mother?!" Zeus suggested, as if it were obvious.

“So what? Aphrodite is my lover and I have children, and I didn't go to any of them just because they're my girlfriend or children!” Ares protested.

“Yes, but none of them gave birth to you, and if you want to have a head to put back in its place, you're going to see to her.” Zeus said, taking Ares' head from Apollo, smirking at him. “Not that you have a choice!”

Ares grumbled against what he saw as an abuse, but Zeus ignored him, turning to the other three sons.

“You are still responsible for his body. Do it right!”

Dionysus groaned, tired. “Do we still have to continue with this? Can't we just... lock him up somewhere and get on with our lives!”

Zeus and Ares looked at him, unimpressed, at which Dionysus sighed, raising his hands in defeat.

“Take turns, do whatever you want, just take good care of his body, okay? It wouldn't be nice if this happened to you and your bodies ended up in bad shape due to negligence.” Zeus scolded them, mildly, before continuing. “And do a better job, before Ares' body punches a hole in someone!”

“It didn't hurt anyone!” Dionysus protested, but fell silent when Zeus glared at him.

Meanwhile, Ares' body, perhaps bored with the lack of action, began to walk around the arena again. It picked up a shield, examined it as if deciding whether it was useful, and then threw it back to the ground with enough force to create a small tremor.

Hermes leaned towards Dionysus and whispered: “I'm starting to think his body has more personality than he does.”

“I HEARD THAT!” Ares shouted from where his head was.

Zeus ran a hand across his forehead, feeling the beginning of a headache, but decided to ignore it in favor of solving the problem he had in hand. Literally. Without saying anything more, Zeus vanished in a flash of light, reappearing in the high gardens of the palace, where Hera awaited them. The goddess stood with her back to them, enveloped in a light cloak of golden and white hues, her hair tied in an impeccable braid that reached halfway down her back.

Her presence was calm, imposing, and immaculately ordered—until Zeus interrupted.

“Hera.”

She turned, raising her eyebrows at the sight of him holding Ares's head.

“When you said he had lost his head, I still didn't believe it would be so... literal,” Hera observed, crossing her hands in front of her with all her elegance. Slowly, she walked towards them, the soft sound of her sandals echoing on the stones of the courtyard. “What happened?”

“A curse. Some kind of dark magic. Athena is researching it. We'll solve it soon.”

He held out Ares's head, which had a particularly irritated expression. “Hi, Mom.”

Hera blinked again, unable to hide her bewilderment. She thought she had seen everything, but certainly not this. “How are you... talking?”

“With my mouth, of course! I'm still alive!” He replied impatiently, not caring about being rude to his own mother. “And nobody can put me back together! It's a disgrace, that's what it is!”

“You seem fine,” she replied with a practiced calm, her gaze fixed on him as if she still expected to wake up. Partly to retaliate for his rudeness, she gently pinched his cheek, feeling the skin and the warmth. Yes, it was quite real. “In a grotesque way, but fine. Your father told me you've been like this since yesterday. Is there a reason why I'm only seeing you now?”

Once again, if he had shoulders, Ares would have shrugged them. This made the queen snort and roll her eyes, displeased and a little judgmental. But only a little.

“Where is his body?” Hera asked instead.

Zeus cleared his throat. “Hermes, Apollo, and Dionysus are taking care of the body.”

“Oh, wonderful.” Hera crossed her arms, raising her chin. The irony practically dripped from her voice. “So it’s in good hands. What a comfort.”

“Hey, they know how to follow orders. They’ll take good care of a headless body without causing any trouble!” Zeus was blatantly ignoring the fact that he had almost gotten a new hole in his body from a spear, as well as Ares’s judgmental look.

Instead of turning on his father, Ares turned to his mother, observing her calm expression. It was always somewhat difficult to know what was going on in Hera’s head when she had that look of haughty calm, like someone who had seen and experienced much.

“You seem too calm, Mother,” he pointed out.

“Do you think so?” She said, holding her head and looking down, observing the clean cut. She could really see everything; the trachea, the flesh, the bone… a perfectly clean cut. “I prefer to see this as just another… family mishap.”

“So, you’re not angry?” he asked, suspiciously.

“Angry?” Hera smiled slightly. “Oh, I am. I just haven’t decided yet whether I’m angry with you, for meddling with curses, or with your father, for showing me this horrendous sight before lunch!”

“Hey!” Zeus protested. “You’re the one who asked to see it!”

Hera gave him a brief look before turning back to her son. “Well, Zeus said that Athena is taking care of it. She’ll solve it. So, everything will be fine.”

“And if she doesn’t solve it?”

“Then, my son, we’ll have a big problem. But I doubt it will last. Athena is efficient. And stubborn.” Zeus assured him.

“Is she really the only option?” Hera asked with a grimace of displeasure.

“Apollo and I tried, but it didn’t work.” Zeus said.

“And we even went to Hephaestus. That didn’t work either.” Ares said, surprising both his parents that he had gone looking for a solution. As if he would just sit around waiting. Ares rolled his eyes. “I want to be complete again; of course I went to him. Hephaestus is always creating automatons!”

“And I see that it didn’t work.” Hera concluded.

“It worked. For about five minutes or less.” Ares scoffed.

For a moment, they were silent, the gentle wind blowing through the gardens being the only sound they heard. Zeus observed the scene with a mixture of affection and weariness. Seeing Hera taking care of Ares, even in this surreal condition, had something comforting about it.

Finally, she spoke, in a lower tone.

“Ares, are you… in pain?”

“No. It’s just… it’s strange. I can’t move on my own and I’m dependent on others! It’s strange and irritating!”

Hera distractedly stroked Ares’ temple with her thumb, an automatic, maternal gesture. “It will pass, my son. All of this will pass.”

“You always say that during trouble times.”

“And I’m usually right.”

“Not always.”

She smiled. “Then this will be one of the times I am.”

Zeus looked away, discreetly moved by the scene. It was rare to see them like this—mother and son, without the constant noise of pride, anger, or rivalry. Just genuine concern.

“Mother, please, tell me I can stay with you. I can’t stand being carried around like a relic by those three idiots and having to put up with them anymore. I’ve never spent so much time with them. It’s too much for me!”

Hera raised an eyebrow at him, scoffing with a little laugh. “Of course, but don’t expect me to stay with you tonight. I’m sorry, dear, but I won’t be able to.”

Ares groaned, but accepted it. It was, at least, better than nothing. Seeing that he was no longer needed there, Zeus decided to leave them both alone. He approached, briefly resting his hand on his wife's shoulder before kissing her head and then gently patting his son's head. “Hang in there, Ares. This will pass.”

“Do you promise?” He blurted out before he could stop himself, his voice a little shaky to his dismay. But, hey, he was getting tired.

“I promise.”

Despite feeling like a child, Ares decided he would believe his parents. They were Hera and Zeus. The king and queen of Olympus. Everything would be alright, he knew. Athena was researching it, and as much as he teased her for being a know-it-all, he knew she would handle it.

He just had to wait. Everything would be fine.

Zeus disappeared in a golden flash, leaving mother and son alone in the garden. For a while, Hera just sat there, in a chair, watching the flowers sway in the wind, with Ares quiet in her arms. He didn't complain anymore. Perhaps tiredness had overcome him, or perhaps that firm and constant presence had calmed him.

When she noticed his eyes slowly closing, Hera held him more carefully and settled more comfortably in her chair, deciding to rest as well. Later, she could do some weaving, and Ares' head would be perfect for holding some threads.

She smiled to herself, already imagining his face and complaints when she did it.

Chapter Text

Two days.

Two days separated from his body. Two days of that bizarre situation where he was nothing more than a head in the care of others.

And on the third day, what had previously been irritation and exasperation began to transform into something different. Ares' head, which until then had been quite vocal, became abnormally silent. He was sleepy, slow to respond to Apollo's provocations or Hermes' jokes. Not even when Dionysus saw fit to pour a glass of wine into his mouth did he growl like a lion, even though he found the sensation disturbing, with the liquid running down his trachea as if he were a defective fountain.

Even when he grumbled, his voice seemed weak, almost faded. Even his body seemed a little more exhausted, although he hadn't stopped walking. At least he wasn't carelessly handling dangerous weapons out there.

Apollo, Hermes, and Dionysus, who were currently gathered in one of the main sanctuary's rooms, in a back room where few passed by, giving them the privacy to watch over a headless body and a disembodied head, observed Ares's head with slight concern.

Apollo was the first to verbalize what everyone was thinking: "Something is wrong. He's... weak."

Hermes, who was fiddling with a shiny object in his hands, stopped and looked at Ares.

"Maybe he's just tired of yelling at us." He approached Ares's head, poking his forehead. Apollo lightly slapped his hand away.

"That's not tiredness, Hermes." Apollo approached the head, leaning in to examine his brother. "It's different. He's not usually so quiet. Hey, Ares, is everything alright in there?"

"Fuck you, idiots!" Ares muttered, without the typical fire in his voice.

"Finally, some peace." Dionysus murmured, taking a sip of wine, but even he seemed worried. “Although, honestly, this is starting to bother me. What do we do?”

“Let’s go to Zeus!” Apollo suggested. “If anyone can solve this, it’s him.”

“Of course, because everything needs to be solved by father.” Hermes grumbled, but he didn’t disagree. Because in the end, whenever they couldn’t solve something, it was Zeus who solved everything. He would know what to do at that moment.

Zeus was in his audience chamber, going through a long scroll while listening to a minor god make his petition. When the three sons appeared behind the door like three floating, nervous heads, he raised an eyebrow. Hera, who was beside him, immediately became alert upon seeing her stepchildren.

Zeus quickly dismissed the minor god and the others present in the room, already imagining what it was about.

“What happened now?” Hera asked, with a mixture of concern and irritation.

“It’s Ares.” Apollo began, handing the head to Zeus. “He’s different. Weaker.”

Zeus leaned down, taking Ares’ head in both hands. He examined his son for a moment, his eyes glistening with a touch of worry. Hera approached, watching the scene intently. Indeed, observing him closely, it was possible to see how tired he looked, even if only slightly.

His skin was somewhat gray, there were some dark circles under his slightly drooping eyes, and his breathing was slightly labored. Even though he didn’t have the lungs for it.

“Thank you, the three of you can leave.” Zeus said. The three gods exchanged glances before looking at him, a little worried.

“Are you sure?” Apollo asked. “I mean, we…”

“Don’t worry, we’ll take care of him.” Zeus said, and although they were uncertain, they had no reason to insist with their father and only gave one last look at their brother’s head before walking away, a little worried. “And take care of his body!”

The groan of Hermes and Dionysus was the last thing they heard before the throne room door closed, leaving the king and queen alone with a fragment of their son. Immediately, Hera stood before her husband, watching their son, worried.

“Is he alright? He seems so…” Hera hesitated, searching for the right words. “Passed out.”

Zeus didn’t answer immediately. He closed his eyes and let his own divine energy flow into Ares’s head, trying to sense what was happening. What he found made him even more worried.

“He’s weak,” Zeus confirmed, his voice deep. “I think the connection to the body is deteriorating, and the head is the smallest part. It’s natural for it to lose energy faster.”

Hera placed a hand on Zeus’s shoulder, her expression softening, even though she was still worried. “Does that mean he’s in danger?”

“Not immediately. I don’t think so,” Zeus replied, though his tone wasn’t reassuring. It wasn't as if he had experience dealing with severed heads. "But we can't leave him like this for much longer."

"I should have stayed with him instead of letting him go back to Apollo!" Hera blamed herself, chewing her lower lip.

“Apollo is the god of healing, Hera. Ares was in good hands! It’s just… it’s just an unusual situation!” Despite his words, Zeus was also feeling a little guilty and worried, pouring more of his energy into that part of his son. Into his head. Only into his head…

Ares slowly opened his eyes, his expression dejected. Even so, he tried to speak, his voice coming out in a hoarse murmur: “What faces are those? You… look like you’re ready to bury me.”

Zeus chuckled softly, though his gaze remained serious. “Don’t talk nonsense, son. We’ll sort this out.”

He let his divine energy flow again, but this time causing it to seep into Ares’s head and restore some of his energy, even if only temporarily.

“But I must say I never thought I’d see this day when you’d finally be quiet, Ares.” Zeus said, in a tone that mixed humor and concern.

“Don’t… get used to it.”

“I won’t.” Zeus replied, his expression softening as he unconsciously ran his hand through his slightly curly hair.

Ares let out something that might have been a grunt, but his weakness was evident. He closed his eyes again, as if even staying awake was a huge effort.

Seeing her son's condition, Hera took his head and held it against her chest, worried. She didn't want to show so much concern, but it was impossible to deny that feeling, especially seeing the weakened state of her son's head.

"This can't go on. Zeus, you need to do something!"

"I'll talk to Athena. She must have made some progress," Zeus said, getting up. "Everything will be alright, Hera."

"I'll only believe it when my son is entire again!" And throwing the train of her dress aside, she disappeared, leaving Zeus alone to deal with the situation. She reappeared back in her room, on the balcony, more precisely, of her marital bedroom. The balcony opened onto a larger terrace, covered with a thatched roof and bamboo chairs.

A beautiful sight, but she wasn't paying attention to the view. She was worried about the son she was holding.

She sat in a chair, gently stroking his head, hoping that her own divine energy could help bring a little more life to her son's appearance.

"Mom, I... I don't want to see the others, but..." Hera felt her heart ache at the dejected sight of Ares. Her son, always so warrior-like and imposing, reduced to a mere head. "Am I going to die?"

"Of course not, silly. You are a god! You will be fine!" Hera assured him.

“But if… if it takes too long, can you call Aphrodite and my kids? I’d like to see them.”

“Of course, of course. But you’ll be able to go see them yourself.” Hera assured her with a strange smile. “Now, rest!”

She felt heartbroken, but she knew everything would be alright. Athena was researching this, and although the goddess of wisdom sometimes irritated her simply by existing, she knew she would do her job in finding a solution.

She only hoped it would be soon, or Gaia would help her; she would raise hell on Olympus.

“Father?” Athena looked up from a scroll as Zeus entered the library where she had holed up for two days and counting. She was surrounded by scrolls and books that formed small piles around her, and her chiton was crumpled and her hair a little disheveled, showing that she hadn’t slept much. This was another concern for Zeus. “What’s wrong?”

“You haven’t slept these past few days, Athena?”

“I’ve had a lot of research to do; I haven’t felt sleepy.” The goddess justified herself, ignoring the way Zeus’s mouth twisted in disapproval. “We have to resolve Ares’s situation as soon as possible, don’t we? Isn’t that why you’re here?!”

“Okay, okay. Yes, that’s why I’m here. Ares… is getting weak. Not just physically, I’m afraid.” Zeus replied. “How much more time do you need?”

Athena frowned, her eyes scanning the pile surrounding her with a slight furrowed brow, biting her lower lip. “I think tomorrow,” she said. “I’ve finally discovered the creature: what Ares faced was a Dullahan. It comes from the easternmost lands, from a people called the Ierne; we’ve never had contact with them, so it’s a little difficult to find a cure, but I’m almost there. I asked Iris to fetch me some books and I’m waiting for them to arrive. Is he in very bad shape?”

“I think we managed to sustain him with our energy, but I prefer not to test the limits.”

Athena bit her lower lip again. She wouldn’t admit she was worried about her half-brother, but she was. This was a new situation; who knew what would happen to Ares if he weakened too much. At best, he would just fall into a catatonic state. At worst…

“I will find a cure by tomorrow, father. I promise!” “Okay, Athena, just… don’t overdo it, okay? I don’t want you to end up getting worn out while trying to help.”

“No promises!” Athena said, to which Zeus snorted, stepping away to let his daughter work in peace, though not without giving her one last worried look.

“What, in Hades, are we doing here?” Apollo inquired in a whisper. They were currently sneaking around the Main Sanctuary, more specifically, the area dedicated to Queen Hera. If they were caught there (which they probably would be), they would have to endure the queen's stony gaze.

And for what?

“Aren't you curious? Ares' body is still, but he wasn't well. Something must have happened. We need to know!”

“No, we don't!” Apollo denied with a gritted grin. Dionysus fell on top of him, causing him to push the god of wine back. “Discourage me, Dionysus!”

“Haven't we arrived yet?” the god of wine inquired, a little too drunk. Apollo rolled his eyes, wondering why, besides them being there, all three of them had to come. Dionysus clearly wasn't sober enough for this, nor was he, if he agreed with Hermes after a little insistence.

They crept along the side of the palace, with Apollo practically dragging Dionysus. Hermes seemed to know the way well, which was nothing new, given that he was always wandering around; no wonder they looked like thieves, hiding behind bushes whenever they heard voices.

Finally, they managed to enter the queen's wing, sneaking close to a low wall overlooking the gardens, but before they could get very far, a shadow fell over them.

"What do you think you're doing?" A familiar, iron voice came from behind them, making them jump and get into position. Well, not Dionysus, he just gave a nod and an irreverent smile that only made Hera look at them more intently.

Hera stared at them for long seconds—those that seemed like an eternity. The wind in the gardens ceased, the leaves stopped swaying, even the birds seemed to hold their breath. Although, probably, it was just them being dramatic. Hera had a sharp gaze, so sharp that they seemed able to feel her gaze piercing them.

“And so?” she repeated, her voice low, yet firm enough to chill even the blood of a god. “What exactly do you think you’re doing in my wing?”

“Well, then… we kind of… got lost?!” Hermes replied, not looking her in the eye. Apollo almost rolled his eyes at the answer. “You know how it is; the sanctuary is huge and all…”

“You came to see Ares,” Hera said, and it wasn’t a question.

The three stood motionless. Hermes opened his mouth, closed it. Opened it again. “Yes!”

“No,” Dionysus corrected, at the same time.

“Maybe,” Apollo murmured, rolling his eyes and giving up on denying it.

Hera sighed, massaging her temples as if feeling the weight of centuries of patience being tested. “Sneaking into the queen’s wing… by Zeus, you never grow up.”

“Technically, we’re immortal gods,” Hermes commented.

“And eternally childish,” Hera retorted. “Come on before I reconsider whether or not it’s worth kicking you out of here!”

She turned and started walking. The three exchanged looks of pure defeat and followed her in silence. Hermes even tried to whisper something to Apollo — “It wasn’t as bad as I imagined” — only to receive a slap on the arm that was harder than it should have been, but certainly intentional.

Hera's room was silent, illuminated only by soft streaks of golden light filtering through the curtains. In a corner, overlooking Hera's balcony, on a low table covered with linen veils, lay Ares. Or rather, his head, resting on a soft cushion as if it were a valuable object, seemingly asleep.

"He's... so quiet," whispered Apollo, observing Ares's head with the same gaze as one observes a new life form.

"Yes, I never thought I'd see that," replied Dinísio, leaning to the side, trying to get a better look. "He even seems... at peace."

"Stop talking as if I'm dead," grumbled Ares without opening his eyes. His voice came out hoarse, but unmistakably irritated.

The three jumped back, surprised.

"Ares!" Hermes whimpered, his eyes shining with relief. He grabbed Ares's head, squeezing it in a hug while trying not to cry. "You're alive!"

“I already told you; stop talking as if I’m dead!” Ares snorted, tired. “And leave me alone! What are you doing here?”

“You— or rather, your body suddenly became very quiet, so we thought we’d have one less brother.” Apollo replied. He didn’t want to admit, especially not to Ares, that he was worried. “I was almost writing your funeral rites.”

“You would go down in history, Ares, as the first god to cross the Styx. Do you think Uncle Hades would give you a place in the Elysian Fields or Tartarus, given how many wars you caused?!” Dionysus teased, slightly amused.

Ares narrowed his eyes, staring at them with feigned disdain. “If I still had my body, I would use it to bury you all alive and give you your long-awaited funeral.”

“You’re fine!” exclaimed Dionysus, smiling. “If you still have the energy to threaten us, you can’t be doing so badly.”

“Did you come to see me or to annoy me until I finally die?”

“As we said,” Apollo began, trying to sound as dignified as possible, “we came to see you because your body has been too still. Athena… hasn’t found a solution yet?”

“I don’t know, but if I’m still like this, the answer is pretty obvious. Besides, I’m not doing so badly.” Ares said.

“No?!” Hermes retorted, offended. “You were pale! The dark circles under your eyes look like lunar craters! I swear I saw your mouth opening in a final dramatic gasp!”

“I was sleeping, you idiot,” Ares growled.

They argued for a while, oblivious to Hera who was watching them from afar. The queen was not pleased with the intrusion of her husband’s three sons into her wing; she would give them a fitting punishment later, but at the moment, seeing her son getting along with them was… revolting, but at the same time, pleasant. Her son wasn't so neglected that he was in such a situation and only his parents were concerned about him. Something she secretly worried about, even only occasionally.

She let them talk for a few minutes, until she finally tired of the three of them.

“It doesn’t help that you’re literally on display,” Dionysus pointed out, taking a sip of the wine he always miraculously conjured. “Can I at least swap the cushion for a more colorful one? This one is so… funereal.”

“Touch that and I’ll curse you for all eternity.”

“He’s still the same,” Hermes said, satisfied. “Irritable, threatening, and with zero sense of humor. All right!”

“Okay. You’ve seen enough,” Hera interjected, with a calmness that hid the danger. “Ares needs silence, and I need patience. We’re both running out.”

“But already?” Hermes protested. Apollo, however, realized that the welcome had already passed and discreetly pinched Hermes' arm (which by this point would have marks of abuse) and bowed to Hera.

"Thank you very much, Your Majesty, for allowing us to see you."

"Hmmm. Next time, just come through the door, like normal people. You will be in charge of my peacocks for the next three days for that." Hera decreed, turning her back to them towards the door and ignoring the astonishment of the three. "And if something happens to them..."

Her look was warning enough, so that even Dionysus, half drunk, fell silent. In any case, she was the queen. If they disobeyed her and Zeus found out, they would do something even more unpleasant than taking care of the beloved peacocks of the Lady of Olympus.

But Hermes, of course, didn't know when to stop. “Your Majesty, just one quick question. What if… well, what if he gets worse? Like, what if his head starts to… I don’t know, shrink?”

“I’m still listening, Hermes!”

“Not that it’s going to happen, brother! Just… a hypothetical question!”

Hera turned slowly to the messenger. “Hermes, if you continue, I’ll turn you into a scientific hypothesis.”

“Understood!” He raised his hands, taking two steps back. “Absolute silence. Mouth shut. Zip!”

“Excellent idea, silence is golden, after all!” said the goddess, already opening the door. “Leave before I decide on more tasks.”

Hermes still took a hesitant step toward Ares, bowing. “If you start seeing a golden light, don’t go toward it, okay? Not that you should worry too much, I usually take souls to the underworld too, but still; just in case it’s not me, don’t follow strange lights around here!”

“Hermes!” Hera’s voice warned him.

The messenger jumped up and darted out, followed by Apollo, who apologized, and Dionysus, who merely nodded, throwing a “Get well soon, buddy!” over his shoulder.

As the door closed, Hera looked at her son, who seemed to express a mixture of weariness, shame, and exasperation. He muttered something about his brothers being idiots, which Hera mentally agreed with, stroking his wavy curls, ignoring his protest.

Realizing that his protests were useless, Ares contented himself with just giving his mother a sour look, which she gave him a gentle smile.

“What do you think about going to the gazebo in the garden?”

“As long as I’m not seen…” Ares grumbled. Hera picked up Ares’s head again, trying not to think that this was the only part of her son she was holding while pouring out as much divine energy as she could. She really hoped that, the next day, Athena would have the answer they needed, or she herself would have to do something about it.

She would go to Gaia, the old schemer, if necessary. Hermes hadn’t lied when he described Ares’s appearance; he was weaker and paler, barely regaining any color after the energy transfer.

“Everything will be alright, Ares. You’ll see.” She said, more to herself than to her son. “Athena will find an answer!”

“I FOUND THE ANSWER!!!” Athena shouted as she opened the doors to the royal chambers with such force that they slammed against the wall, startling the couple and their sleeping head.

“Athena!” Zeus called her attention. “What are you doing?”

“I found the answer, father. I know how to put Ares’ head back in place!” said the goddess of wisdom, approaching her father with quick steps, staring at him with slightly wide eyes, dark circles under her eyes, and a somewhat disturbed smile, along with her disheveled hair.

Zeus stared at her for a moment, his mind abruptly awakened, trying to understand what she was saying. “And did you have to come in like this? What if Hera and I were… busy?”

“With me here?” Came Ares’ indignant voice in the background.

“Stop this nonsense, Zeus.” Hera slapped his arm, getting out of bed. “You said you found a way to make Ares go back to normal, right? So?”

“Let’s go to Aunt Hestia’s bonfire. I’ll explain there!” Without giving them time to say anything, the goddess of wisdom turned her back on them, forcing them to stand up and follow her to the hall where the divine flame was, the flame of the gods’ hearth.

The goddess of the hearth was there, stoking what appeared to be a brazier, with a half-fallen body near her, against Dionysus, who was snoring and drooling. Not that this bothered Hestia, apparently.

With the arrival of the three gods and the remaining member, she raised her head, looking at what was left of her nephew in Hera’s hands and winked, giving a small smile.

“Well, this is something totally unexpected. When I warned you that one day you might lose your head for being reckless, nephew, I wasn’t being literal.”

Ares rolled his eyes. “I assure you, Aunt, I wasn’t expecting something literal either!”

“So? What will we have to do?!” Hera asked.

“So,” the goddess began. “What I discovered was that Ares was actually cursed by another god. A god of primitive peoples connected to nature beyond the Pillars of Heracles, to be more specific!”

“A god?! Some god dared to touch an Olympian?!” Zeus exclaimed indignantly, to which Hera rolled her eyes. “Who was it?”

“Well, I’m not sure about that, but from the description of Ares; of a headless horseman, the only description I found was of a god called Crom Dubh. Apparently, decapitation is a common method of sacrifice for this god.” Athena shrugged. “Now, the reason he’s so far away, in our lands, is probably because he came following some worshipper or to avenge his murderer. And if Ares was there…”

“Technically, I didn’t kill anyone directly. My armies did this. That idiot just happened to show up when I was there!” Ares grumbled.

“Anyway, I found a way to deal with him; something that was right in front of us: fire!”

The three looked at Hestia's flames and then at Athena, who, with her disheveled hair and that look, didn't seem very sane. Besides, they weren't quite sure what they should do, and Zeus pointed that out.

“Are we... going to throw Ares into the fire?”

Athena laughed. “Of course not.” She picked up the brazier that Hestia was heating, revealing it to actually be a sword, whose blade shone with an iridescent orange due to the heat of the flames. “We're going to burn his neck. On both sides!”

“This... is a joke, isn't it?” Ares almost begged, sweating profusely. If he looked pale, it was probably just due to the weakness he already suffered. Athena just stared at him, placidly. “Seriously? That's the plan?! To torture me without further explanation?”

“Athena... are you sure about this?!” Zeus inquired nervously. One glance at the heated blade and he felt an uncomfortable sensation in his throat.

Hera, in particular, seemed uncomfortable. She crossed her arms, observing the scene with an expression that oscillated between concern and authority, appearing torn between hiding the head she was holding or trusting Athena.

“The blade of the headless god left traces of magic in the cut on your neck. These remnants are preventing your head and body from fully reconnecting. To undo this, we need to burn the cut site and neutralize the residual magic. It’s the only solution.” She replied calmly. “And, yes, it will hurt.”

“Don’t worry, nephew. I prepared some fresh juice and a wet wipe for you.” Hestia reassured him with a gentle smile.

Ares snorted, or tried to, though the sound came out more like a tired sigh. He almost cast a pleading glance at Zeus and Hera. Almost. But his pride held him back. It wasn’t in Ares’ nature to show weakness, even in the face of such an absurd situation.

“Alright, let’s get this over with!” He said, trying to maintain an indifferent tone, although his voice was heavy with tension.

Athena walked towards him, holding the hot sword. The heat was palpable, radiating through the air, and Ares could feel the temperature rise in his throat even before the metal touched him, the sound of the iron hissing in the air enough to make everyone present hold their breath.

“I’ll start with your body and then the head. It will be quick!” Athena assured, turning to the body slumped beside Dionysus. “Father.”

Understanding the message, Zeus approached the body and pulled it to its feet, ignoring Dionysus who fell sideways onto the bench, unconscious. He held the body facing Athena, who raised the sword and, in a slow cutting motion, passed the blade over the flesh.

The movement was precise; it went neither above nor below the flesh, so it did not injure the area, but instead ensured that the blade passed over the flesh, like a hot iron.

The hissing and smell of burning flesh filled the space between them, and Ares' body thrashed about, but weak as he was and with Zeus holding him, the body had little power to escape, so he only struggled for a few moments before becoming motionless after Athena withdrew the sword.

She placed it in the flames for another moment to reheat the blade, turning to Ares' anxious head.

"Now you."

Ares clenched his teeth, bracing for the inevitable.

Hera lifted his head into the air and spun him around, so that he was upside down, making it easier for the younger goddess to access him.

Ares didn't even have time to complain. When the iron finally touched his neck, the pain was so intense that he thought his whole head would explode. The sound was horrible—a loud, sharp hiss, accompanied by the smell of burning flesh that mixed with what was already in the air and intensified it.

Ares screamed, or at least tried to, but his voice came out weak, a hoarse and painful sound that echoed through the arena. Hera's grip did not waver, but she pressed her lips together, remaining firm.

"Just a little more," Athena said, pressing the iron.

Ares squeezed his eyes shut, enduring as much as he could. He could feel each second dragging on like an eternity, the pain raw and inescapable. Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, Athena removed the iron, leaving the area marked with a charred scar.

"There," she said, stepping back and setting the iron aside. "The curse has been neutralized. His body is free. Put his head back in place; quickly!"

Hera promptly obeyed, approaching the body Zeus still held, now lifting his neck. She perfectly positioned her son's head, holding it for a moment before finally stepping back, her hands still raised, to catch Ares's head should it fall.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, a golden glow enveloped the connection between his head and body, and Ares finally took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the air that had been denied him for days.

He moved his fingers, his arms, and finally stood up, his eyes shining with relief—and pain.

“Finally!” He murmured, though his voice was hoarse and weak.

“Don’t try to talk too much yet,” Athena said. “Your throat is still recovering. I suggest you stay quiet for a few days and drink cold beverages. It should help!”

Ares would have said something—if he could and hadn’t just been vetoed—before receiving a strong hug from Ivy, who ignored the fact that there was a witness to the act of affection, pure relief filling her.

“If you get involved in another situation like this, you won’t just lose your head, Ares. I’m warning you!” Ares only grumbled, squeezing his mother lightly before pulling away with a slight grimace.

The sensation he felt, besides being painful, was as strange as the sensation of having his body separated. His throat burned and seemed not to be part of his body from the neck down, tingling as well. Not to mention the exhaustion that consumed him. But, for the first time in days, he was whole again.

Finally!

“Here, dear.” Hestia handed him a chilled glass of fruit juice, which he gratefully accepted. The icy liquid burned a little as it went down, but at least it was a kind of burn he could tolerate. “Better?” Hestia asked, smiling.

Ares nodded, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, although Hera soon reprimanded him. “With a handkerchief, Ares. You’re not a child anymore.”

He sighed, taking the handkerchief she offered him. “After everything I’ve been through, I think I have the right to behave like one, just a little.”

Zeus let out a muffled laugh. “I agree with him this time.”

“You only agree because you’re as clumsy as he is,” Hera teased, raising an eyebrow.

“Hey!” Zeus protested, offended. While the two were engrossed in their lovers’ quarrel, Athena approached Ares, observing his neck. A thin line was still visible in the flesh, but she imagined it would soon disappear. She nodded to herself, satisfied. She was pale, her eyes sunken, and her slightly disheveled hair forming a nest around her head, but that feeling of a job well done… ah, yes, she liked it very much.

But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t tease Ares at least a little. “Know that you owe me one after this; I literally saved your neck!”

“And to think I was going to thank you one day,” Ares replied, with a hoarse half-smile and an eye roll. “But don’t get used to it. I’m still deciding if it was torture or a miracle.”

“It depends on the point of view,” Athena retorted, and, for the first time in days, there was light laughter in the hall. Even Hestia's fire seemed to shine brighter, reflecting on everyone's faces, bathing them in a warm light.

It was in this atmosphere that Dionysus awoke, a little groggy from sleep, looking around as if trying to recognize where he was. Then he saw Ares, whole, and stared at him for a while, as if he didn't understand what he was seeing, until a wide smile spread across his face.

“Hey, your head's back in place! Does that mean we won't have to watch you anymore?”

Ares rolled his eyes, taking another cold sip. “Yes, yes. Freedom. Long live.”

“YES! I'M FREE!” Dionysus jumped off the bench, running to tell Hermes and Apollo the news. Ares felt the urge to throw the glass at the idiot's head. He was the one who suffered the most; How dare he act as if taking care of his body was a burden?

Ares would give him a good scolding for that. Later. He was really tired at that moment. And of course his mother noticed.

Hera approached, brushing the hair from his forehead. “You should rest,” Hera said, observing her son with that look of someone who still saw him as the impetuous boy he once was.

“I will,” he replied, leaning his head against the wall. “Just… let me enjoy the fact that she’s still attached to my body.”

Zeus laughed loudly this time, the sound echoing through the hall and eliciting a slight smile from Hera. “I should have known that my son of war would be the only one capable of losing his head.” Then his face became a little more serious. “But get into a mess like this again and you’ll be grounded, adult or not. For now, your punishment will be rest. And you too, my dear. You deserve a rest after these days!”

“Needless to say,” Athena agreed, making the sword disappear and stretching. “If anyone wants to thank me formally, I accept expensive gifts and a whole day without hearing complaints. Especially from you, Ares. And stop talking, moron!”

“Dream on,” murmured both Ares and Hera. The goddess of wisdom just gave a lazy nod and left, her footsteps echoing down the corridor.

Mother and father also said goodbye to Ares, before turning away to do whatever they should be doing at that hour that wasn’t making sure Ares had his head on straight. He still heard Zeus muttering something about dealing with foreign gods, which made Hera call him out, and Ares hoped his father wouldn't make a spectacle of it.

The last thing he needed was for his father to seek "justice" for him and expose to everyone the humiliation he suffered by having his head cut off by who-knows-who. He desperately wanted to forget about it and pretend nothing happened.

Ares was also grateful for her concern, but he was also relieved to be alone now.

Or almost.

He gestured for more from Hestia, who laughed sweetly, quickly filling her body, promising to send him some sweets later, even though Ares refused, a little embarrassed.

"Nonsense, darling. After literally losing your head, there's no harm in spoiling yourself a little."

Ares frowned, wanting very much to say that he wasn't a baby to be treated like one, but honestly, whatever. He was whole again, his throat still ached a little, and he was feeling the fatigue of three days apart.

Damn stupid creature. If he encountered something like that again, he would chop it up before it even raised its damn sword. This time he wouldn't give it time to humiliate him again. Idiot god. It almost made him want Zeus to go after his spectacle. Almost.

He sighed and shrugged, knowing that Hestia would do as she pleased, whether he agreed or not.

And perhaps he should do the same, too. He should have officially returned to Olympus three days ago. It was time for him to announce himself and return to his sanctuary. Surely Aphrodite was waiting for him.

As well as a comfortable bed. A real one. For your whole body, not just your head.

Finally, normalcy.