Like a Brilliantly Shining Lighthouse
Ares arrived at the entrance to Mount Olympus.
Behind him, someone in a hooded robe hauled a massive cart. Turning to the nymphs who had come out to greet him, Ares said,
“In a little while, when I give the signal, guide this person and the cart inside—straight to my chambers.”
“Yes, sir!”
“Understood!”
After giving the nymphs their orders, Ares offered a slight bow to the figure standing beside the cart, then strode into Olympus alone.
Moments later he reached the great council chamber. Exactly as expected, a throng of gods filled the hall. The instant he stepped inside, Ares dropped to one knee and spoke.
“The sinner Ares has returned. Lord Zeus, punish me severely for my defeat in battle!”
He begged for judgment with every scrap of courtesy he could muster. Zeus approached his son in silence.
Then—
“…Sinner? What nonsense is that? Simply having you back safe fills me with joy. Wars are won and lost; that is their nature. But losing you is something I will never accept.”
“Father…”
Zeus pulled his son into a warm embrace and offered gentle words of comfort. Relief and gratitude flooded Ares so deeply that tears began to well in his eyes.
“Thank the heavens you returned unharmed.”
“You’ve done well. No one wins every time. Sometimes a defeat is exactly the lesson we need.”
One after another the elder gods offered the same soothing words. Yet even amid their kindness, Ares’s eyes found the figure standing a step apart—merely sighing as she watched him.
Hera.
“For today, go rest.”
“Yes, rest. You’ve been through enough; take some time to recover.”
“Thank you. Then…”
With the greatest crisis resolved, the gods dispersed as quickly as they had gathered. They had abandoned urgent wartime duties to assemble here; now they hurried back to their own domains. Ares likewise set off for his chambers.
That was when—
“…Ares. A word.”
“…Yes, Mother…”
Hera’s voice was stiff and cold. Ares answered in a slightly heavier tone and continued toward his room.
And then—
“What is it? I’m rather tired right n—”
Slap!
“!…”
A stinging shock exploded across Ares’s cheek. Startled, he turned his gaze to the woman who had struck him—Hera.
“Have you lost your mind? What in the world were you thinking?! Even if glory blinded you, how could you charge Atlas without a shred of fear?!”
“…“
Hera’s voice rang with pure fury. Ares remained silent, simply watching his mother.
“Young as you are, must you always show me only disappointment? If you cannot even tell right from wrong, how do you ever expect to lead Olympus?”
“…“
Hera’s anger and irritation burned hotter than usual. Ares burned that image into both eyes, then spoke in a quiet voice.
“…Is that… all?”
“…What?”
“I asked if that is everything you have to say to m—”
Slap!
Hera’s hand cracked across his cheek again. Her face twisted with even greater rage as she shouted,
“Did you expect praise?! Olympus’s prestige nearly crashed into the dirt because of you! Instead of bowing your head and reflecting, you dare show such insolence—”
“…Haa…”
A heavy sigh left Ares’s lips. The next moment he sank to his knees on the floor, looking up at the woman before him.
“I’m sorry… I was wrong… Mother.”
“…Tsk.”
He bowed his head and apologized. Outwardly it was the picture of perfect manners, yet Hera saw through it at once—this was nothing more than a face-saving performance to end the confrontation. Still, she clicked her tongue and spoke in a voice cold enough to freeze the air, as though further conversation itself was a nuisance.
“Enough. Rest.”
With that she left the room. Watching her retreating back, Ares solidified the decision he had carried since the moment he returned.
…Hephaestus was right after all… Mother… I should never have expected anything from that woman to begin with.
Before they parted, Hephaestus had told him: once you reach Olympus, watch carefully how your mother reacts.
A son who had just escaped a nightmare of danger. If she comforted him, if she held him close—even clumsily—then she could still be called a mother who loved her child, however poorly she showed it.
But Hera’s reaction had been neither gentle comfort nor a mother’s warm touch. Only the same old irritation and rage, the same violent scolding as always.
And that single fact forced Ares to a clear conclusion. Measured against the “standard” he had only just planted in his heart, that woman was no longer anything like a mother.
In the instant even the faintest hope for her was severed, Ares acted according to his conviction.
—“Let him in.”
“Huu…”
A heavy sigh escaped Hera the moment she stepped outside. When she first heard her son might be in danger, deep anxiety had seized her.
Could something truly have happened to that child? What if the Titans captured him and… did unspeakable things…
For all his many flaws, he was still the precious child she herself had borne. The thought of losing him had kept her awake night after night. Zeus’s ridiculous claim that the boy’s peril was her fault had enraged her—yet even that fury was born of love for her son.
And just now, seeing him return safe and sound, profound relief and joy had filled her heart.
Thank the fates. He came back unharmed… my son…
Ares had been smiling brightly, receiving comfort from the other gods. She herself had wanted to join them, to soothe her weary child.
Yet another emotion soon took root as she watched.
What a disgrace… Because of that boy’s blunder Olympus was thrown into chaos… Even Brother Hades came all this way…
Gods who had abandoned urgent duties to gather here. Though they offered kind words now, the incident would be gossiped about for ages. Her son’s foolish charge into a reckless battle, his ugly defeat, and the way the news had spread like wildfire—together with Zeus’s earlier accusation that it was all her fault—ignited unbearable irritation and anger inside Hera.
Fine… He’s already received more than enough comfort from the others. Here I must do my duty as a mother and deliver a sharp rebuke, so this never happens again.
The desire to hold her son still lingered, but she chose to ignore it. Her role was to guide him onto the proper path—to make him a greater god than that Hephaestus raised by that Eurynome bitch. Having sworn never to forget that purpose, Hera once again raised the whip of motherhood.
And so, moments earlier, she had slapped the cheek of the son who had just returned from war and poured out the same stream of condemnation as always. The result, to her satisfaction, was exactly what she wanted: her son on his knees, apologizing for his mistakes. Watching that scene—which felt like a vow never to act so rashly again—Hera allowed herself a private smile. Her son had taken another step toward growth. Content, she stepped outside to cool her head.
Still… was I a little too harsh?
Even if it was for his own good, looking back she might have gone too far. He had, after all, endured hardship and come home. Having finished the discipline, a little comfort now would not hurt.
Decision made, Hera turned back toward her son’s chambers.
But—
“Hm? Where has the boy…?!”
Ares’s room was empty. In his place something else caught her eye: an object draped in pure white cloth, a note affixed to the top.
To Mother.
“…“
It looked for all the world like a gift from her son. Joy, mixed with a twinge of guilt, stirred in Hera’s chest.
He prepared something like this as an apology…? Perhaps I really was too severe.
Thinking so, she lifted the cloth. The moment she saw what lay beneath, deep astonishment flooded her face.
“Th-this is…”
Something that shone with brilliant light. Simple joy blossomed into pure wonder. A Golden Throne—smaller than Zeus’s in the great pantheon, yet crafted with even greater precision and beauty. Hera swallowed hard without realizing it.
“How… where on earth did this child obtain such a thing…”
Far too precious to be a mere gift. Whether he had seized it from the Titans or acquired it some other way, gratitude and delight for her son filled her heart to overflowing—along with fresh regret for having scolded the boy who prepared such a treasure.
“To have shouted at a son who brought me a gift like this…”
She resolved to apologize the moment Ares returned. Then she sat upon the “gift from her son.”
And then—
“…Eh?”
An eerie sensation suddenly raced through her entire body. Something was binding her tight. Sensing that something was terribly wrong, Hera tried to leap up from the Golden Throne.
But—
“Wh-what? What is this? Why… why can’t I move…?!”
No matter how hard she strained, she could not free herself from the Golden Throne. At the same time the throne began to drink her divine power, glowing ever more brilliantly—clear and beautiful, like a lighthouse shining through an abyssal storm.
To Hera the forced theft of her power was pure torment, yet she no longer had the luxury of caring. Her eyes locked onto the note she still held. The words “To Mother” were rewriting themselves before her gaze.
The new message read:
I’m running away.
— Ares