Daughter of War

By: .living.nitemares.

Warnings: Sexual situations (subtle) and constant mentions of child abuse. Ye have been warned. Don't bitch to me if you're delicate and can't handle this sort of shit. Why do you think I put the warning in bold?

Disclaimer: I don't own Greek mytholgy; noboy does. I just own the plot and Alala, who was born out of my own imagination.

Scroll I:

“Goddess of Nothing”

I was always a vivacious child. I questioned everything, and got into trouble constantly. Unlike my beautiful and elegant mother, I lacked in grace and charm. I was the child goddess that no cared to notice.

My mother Aphrodite, Goddess of Love and Beauty, was kind as she was beautiful, but she never gave me the attention that I needed as a young child. She was always involved in some sort of scandal or another. It was usually with my father, Ares, God of War.

I was definitely my father's daughter. Even at the tender age of five, I loved violence more than anything else. I didn't want to play with other god children or nymphs my age, I had no interest in small, cute animals, and I loathed flowers and everything else pretty.

I was obsessed with sharp objects, and wanted a sword and javelin of my own, not toys but real weapons like the ones my father carried. Time after time, I tried to cajole Hephaestus, God of Forgery, into making a sword or at least a dagger for me, but he'd just laugh and shake his head.

I was never looked after carefully enough, and that's partly why I got into so much trouble. I loved playing tricks on the gods and goddesses, because it was always so easy to set my plans in motion without them caring to wonder what I was doing and they usually, nearly always fell prey to my tricks.

You could say that Hermes, the Messenger God, was a bad influence on me. He gave me a pair of silver sandals with wings on them that he made himself and taught me many different tricks and many different ways to set them in motion. Needless to say, Hermes was my favorite uncle and playmate. He always took the time out of his schedule and desires to pay me the attention I never received from my mother.

You're probably wondering, what about my father? My father never even knew that I was his child. He knew Aphrodite was my mother, but he never thought to think that I was his daughter. Therefore, I was hardly worthy enough of his notice. It was my mother he had eyes for, not me.

But it wasn't very hard to tell that I was his child. I had long, red-gold hair that went down to my back or waist straight without curls or waves, gleaming like a blood river with sunlight reflecting off its surface. I was unusually tall, like him, for a child of my age and I often intimidated others because of my height. My skin was a creamy white like my mother's though while my father was tan. I had crimson-colored eyes like him, with flecks of molten-gold in them. My skin was as tough as leather and I could run over sharp rocks and hot sand without flinching.

I hardly ever cried, and smirked more than smile. I have a bad temper, and when I'm angry, I usually let people know by screaming and yelling, and through use of violence with my fists and legs. I am not scared of anything and I've never been known for shrieking in terror.

For the first five years of my life, I've lived on Mount Olympus, watching the gods and goddesses fall in love, throw tantrums when jealous or angry, and punish impertinent mortals who dared to defy them. As I was both young and small, I wasn't even noticed by nymphs or other nurses meant to serve the other god children. I was insignificant to everyone, even to my own mother.

When my fifth birthday passed without any notice, I found an isolated spot in the gardens and sat down upon the grass to cry. I was lonely and sad, and the other children despised and made fun of me. My mother abandoned me in favor of company with my father, and he didn't even know I was his child. The other gods grew angry if I so much as bumped into them, and Hera, the Queen of the Gods, completely and utterly terrified me to no end. I felt like a lost spirit wondering the Underworld, wondering if I'd ever find Paradise.

“Why are you crying, child?”

I look up to see one of the Olympian goddesses walking towards me, a hound at her side, although I couldn't recall her name at the moment. She was dressed plainly compared to the other goddesses, but her thick, brown braid hung down her back, gleaming in the sunlight and her bright eyes were pools of dark, melted gold. A bow was strapped to her chest and a quiver of arrows hung loosely on her back.

I then recognized her: she was Artemis, Goddess of the Hunt. I was curious as to why she wondered all the way out here to the gardens and away from the other gods. I rubbed my eyes furiously, embarrassed to have been seen crying by a goddess such as she. But she didn't laugh at me or scold me for my tears; instead she smiled warmly at me and I felt as if the warmth of sunlight came from that smile.

“Why are you crying, little goddess?” she asked me. “What could possibly make you so sad on such a fine day here, on Olympus?”

“Everything,” I said sadly.

Artemis cocked her head to one side, never tearing her gaze away from me. “You're the daughter of Aphrodite, are you not little goddess?”

I nodded, although I was surprised that she knew. Most people couldn't tell that my mother and I were related since I looked so much like my father. Most people couldn't figure out who my father was either, they were that stupid.

Artemis looked straight into my eyes and frowned. She recognized the blood-color hue and the golden flecks. “Your father must be my stupid, half-brother Ares,” she said. It was a statement.

I nodded. “Does he know?” I shook my head. Artemis frowned. “He's stupid for not knowing. It's pretty obvious you're his daughter.”

She was referring to my looks, and I wasn't sure if it was a compliment or insult. “Why are you sitting here alone?” Artemis asked kindly. “Wouldn't you rather be playing with the other children?”

I shook my head and drew my knees up to my chest, hating myself for my tears. “They're mean to me. I hate them.”

“What about your elder brother, Eros?”

“I hate him even more. He never defends me,” I said bitterly. “He just jumps right along when the others make fun of me.”

“What do the children say?” Artemis asked curiously.

“They call me the Goddess of Nothing.” I buried my head in my knees, feeling miserable at the thought of that horrid nickname.

Flashback

“Alala!” I turned around at the sound of my name and a large ball of wet mud met the side of my face and dripped onto my finely woven chiton.

I look up to see my older brother by seven years, Eros, on the ground rolling with laughter while the others behind him pointed and laughed as well.

I bite my lip and look down at the ground, tears filling my eyes. I then see Persephone, the daughter of Demeter, flounce up to me in a whirl of thickly tiered skirts and I'm filled with dread.

Persephone was the prettiest of the other daughters of the nymphs she played with and was worshiped as the unofficial ringleader. She hated me for not appeasing her or acting like the other giggly girls in her group.

Her chestnut-brown hair was curled and tied up into a severe bun while lose tendrils hung around her face like uncoiled rope. Her hands were folded across her chest and her head held high, her chin always pointed out as an expression of arrogant smugness appeared on her face.

She flaunted up to me, a smirk plastered on her delicate face, her arms across her chest as she prepared to tear me down and build up her own self-esteem. The others looked on eagerly, ready to drink up my misery and pain that Persephone would bring me.

“Your face looks much better when it's covered in mud,” she sneered. “I mean, who would want to look at your hideous face when they could look at mine?”

Persephone turned her head back towards the other young nymphs, her amethyst-colored eyes narrowing in warning before the others nodded in agreement. Satisfied, she turned her evil face back on me, looking very much like Medusa.

Then, without warning, she pulled at the diadem in my hair and ripped it out. I cried out more in surprise than pain, because Persephone never had used violence against me before. I always thought she was scared that someone would see her and she'd get in trouble.

Persephone held my diadem out in front of her, admiring the roses, vines, and thorns beaten into the hammered gold. “This good enough for a goddess... which you aren't!” She set it on her head and began weaving her dark hair through it.

That's when I got angry. “Give it back!” I lunged at Persephone and knocked her to the ground. I couldn't stand the thought of her putting the gift my father had given me (in order to impress my mother) in her hair and weaving those snake-like strands through it.

We rolled on the ground a bit, she screeching her silly little head off while I swore obscenities I heard my father use, while the others looked on in horror. My brother was on his feet, his eyes wide with shock. “Get off of me, you filthy halfling!” she shrieked. “Child of mortal man!” That made me even more angry since I obviously knew I was the child of two Olympian gods just as she.

I raised back my fist, and punched her in the nose, causing blood to stream out like a red river. Persephone screamed with pain,and dropped my diadem. I snatched it and rolled away from her and got to my feet.

The other girls helped Persephone to her feet, blood dripping down over her chin and onto her clothing and the ground. Tears streamed down her face and her face was red with rage. No beauty to be seen at that moment. “I'm going to tell Mama!” she spat.

“Go ahead!” I shouted. “I don't care!”

“You will when you're punished,” one nymph taunted. “Goddess of Nothing. Goddess of Nothing, Goddess of Nothing...”

The others picked up the chant. “Goddess of Nothing, Goddess of Nothing, Goddess of Nothing...”

The words hit me like a thousand arrows. I turned and fled, ignoring the shouts from my brother. “Goddess of Nothing, Goddess of Nothing...”

Ares, God of War. Aphrodite, Goddess of Beauty. What did that make me? Alala, Goddess of War? No. Alala, Goddess of Love? Who'd love me?

Despite the fact I'm one of the few of my father's children that happen to be divine, my half-siblings led better lives than me. They would bask in glory blessed by my father while I remained invisible. I would never be a real goddess. Nobody would notice my name, I would never be worshiped like my parents and my brother.

“Goddess of Nothing, Goddess of Nothing, Goddess of Nothing...” The words pierced my ears like whizzing arrows.

I retreated from the sunny field and headed towards the garden. What a great start on my fifth birthday.

End Flashback

Artemis snorted and I looked up. “Goddess of Nothing? You were born from two Olympian gods! You'll be a goddess all right. Those who taunt you and tease you are jealous because they are below you. They are merely daughters of nymphs and satyrs while you are a pure-blooded goddess.”

“Persephone is too,” I pointed out. Artemis snorted again. “She is only jealous of you because you were blessed with beauty. She isn't. She might be pretty because of her parentage, but that is the only reason,” she said smiling at me. “You, on the other hand, are going to grow up to be great beauty. A goddess that all men will pray to for victory in war, and a goddess that women will ask for guidance in love.”

She smiled at me again, her thick braid falling over her shoulder as she leaned down over me. “Would you like to go hunting with me, Alala? I've heard you love playing with your father's weapons.” Her eyes twinkled and I at the moment knew exactly what she was talking about.

The incident had occurred a few weeks ago when my father visited my mother. I had been playing in her presence chamber when they slipped into her bedchamber. My father had carelessly left his weapons leaning against the stone wall outside of the chamber and I had been entranced by the sharp blades and the battle scene embossed on his shield.

I walked as quietly as I could over to the weapons, so as not to be discovered, but I had no worry when the cries and grunts of pleasures started growing loud. I first attempted to pick up the spear, but it was too tall and too heavy for me to lift. I shifted it from its spot a little bit, and decided that that was good enough. I tried to pick up my father's shield but I was no more successful there. I then wrapped my chubby hands around the gilded handle of his sword.

With all of my strength, I pulled and pulled, digging my heels into the ground. I decided to use my other hand as well but that wasn't a good idea as I brought the sword crashing down onto the floor with a loud clang. I froze, frightened my parents would come out and discover what I was up to. Luckily, they kept doing what they were doing.

I was growing bored and was about to go back to the wooden toys I had been playing with when another item of war caught my eye. It was much smaller than the other weapons my father had left and was tucked into a small leather pouch with a strap connected to it so it could hang onto a man's belt. It was very light and I could pick it up easily. I removed it from it's case and my eyes widened when I saw that it was a dagger. The blade was made of bronze and was very sharp.

I turned it over, light from a nearby window gleaming off of it. I flipped in my hand, catching it every time. I flipped it very high at one point, and the dagger came down and cut my bare leg, leaving a jagged line with small beads of blood dripping out. The dagger fell to the ground with a clatter. I stared at in awe, not even aware of the pain creeping up my leg, the dark blood covering the blade up to the hilt. I squealed in delight, not even aware of my own foolishness, and picked it up to go show my brother, who was deathly afraid of blood.

I knocked on his chamber door, and when he opened it, he saw me and the blood and screamed. He tried to close the door but I slipped in and thrust the blade in front of his face chanting, “Blood, blood, blood!” I chased him around the room a few times before he streaked out the door, screaming for our mother.

Within a few moments, I heard my father swear (no doubt he discovered his precious weapons in disarray) and my mother's angry voice calling my name. Knowing that I was in trouble and that there was no avoiding it, I shuffled back into the presence chamber.

Eros was glaring at me accusingly and my parents looked very angry from being interrupted from their lovemaking. My father noticed my wound and scowled. “You don't even know how to handle a weapon? Why the hell were you playing around with my weapons? Stupid girl!” The words hurt much more than the cut on my leg, and I felt like crying when he said those words.

“Give him the dagger, Alala,” my mother said in a quiet, but angry tone. I held out the dagger to Ares and he snatched it away and tucked it back into it's leather pouch, which he hooked onto the belt of his tunic, muttering obscenities under his breath. He then turned accusing eyes onto my mother.

“Do you have absolutely no control over these runts?” he demanded, voice growing loud as he glared at Eros and I, assuming that we were the children of another lover, although we were very much his.

“I didn't think she'd touch your weapons!” my mother protested in defense. “She's only a child! Children do stupid things all the time. I'll make sure she won't touch them again, I promise.”

“Forget it,” my father muttered angrily before storming out. As I watched him go, I felt something hard smack my cheek. It was my mother. She had slapped me. It stung and the pain pulsed within my cheek, which I touched gingerly. She slapped the other side of my face while Eros watched nervously, not sure whether to intervene or not.

“You stupid child! You had to go and ruin everything!” My mother's voice was shrill and she sounded like she was on the verge of tears. “How could you?”

She shoved me onto the ground and kicked me in the stomach. This time I cried out in pain and the gold blood all gods had spurted out of my mouth. “Mother, please-”

She kept on going as if I hadn't spoken. She kicked me in the face, stomach, back and wherever else she could hurt me. After awhile, when she was tired, my mother, the Goddess of Love and Beauty, turned and went to her bedchamber, where she began crying nosily.

Eros had fled during the time I had been getting beaten because he loathed violence with a passion, and I was left alone in the presence chamber. I struggled to get up, pain screaming in every part of my body and when I did, I went back to my nursery, abandoning the wooden toys I had been playing with previously.

I limped over to my small, golden bed which was covered with blood-red sheets, silk pillows, stuffed animal dogs, which were my favorite animals, and furs of animals from the forest of Artemis. I flopped down upon it, my head sinking into the soft pillows. I immediately fell asleep.

The next morning, I discovered purple bruise marks from where my mother had hit me. They littered my thighs and legs and I was pretty sure they covered my back and chest also. I got up, with much difficulty as I was sore, and took off my wrinkled tunic and replaced it with a wine-red chiton, fastening it over one shoulder while leaving the other bare.

I caught a glimpse of my face in a gold-framed mirror when I leaned up from tying my sandals. I flinched when I saw the swollen lips and red cheeks. Sadness turned to fear when I realized that the gods would definitely notice this. They'd know my mother had beaten me. And it was all my fault.

Later on, on Mount Olympus, the gods did notice my bruises. But not one of them bothered to ask me about them, except for my grandfather, Zeus. I told him I had been playing in the gardens the previous day and had gotten in a fight with a child nymph. It was obvious he didn't believe my story, but he didn't seem to care enough to look into it.

I was surprised Artemis knew, though. I mean, I thought no one knew that my mother had beaten me. It was well-known around Olympus that I loved taking and playing with my father's weapons, although it usually earned me a slap and a curse from him when he caught me with them. Hopefully, Artemis didn't know the part where my mother had beat me.

She gave me a shining smile like she didn't, and said, “Have you ever hunted before, young goddess?” I shook my head. My mother had never let me. She said women weren't meant to handle weapons or hunting tools. Instead, she thought women should indulge their time in finding lovers and being involved in scandal, like her.

“Would you like to?” I nodded. I had always wanted to use a bow and arrows, although I was still too short for one. “Ask your mother if you can.” I nodded and scrambled to my feet. I forgot the teasing I had just endured. Artemis had asked me to go hunt with her! Artemis! Besides my parents, she was one of the few Olympian gods I admired.

I left the gardens and ran back towards the courtyard, where my mother reclined on a couch under a small pavilion made of white marble. She was sipping nectar and my father and brother were lounging lazily on couches next to her. None of them noticed me until I rushed up and tugged at her gown.

She scowled at me for touching her and scowled even more when she saw the state of my gown. “What did you do to your gown, girl?” I shot a nasty glare at Eros and pointed a chubby finger at him. “It wasn't me!” he protested in defense.

I glared at him. “Who else would throw mud at me? Persephone and those other stupid nymphs don't even like getting dirt under their nails.” My mother sent Eros a disapproving glare, which told him she wouldn't let him go unpunished. My brother scowled while my father looked on in amusement mixed with annoyance.

My mother looked down on me again, frowning. “What do you want girl?” she asked before taking another sip of her drink. “I want to hunt with Artemis.” My mother's eyes widened in surprise as my father and brother burst into laughter. “I'm not lying!” I said loudly over their howling. “She asked me herself.” They stopped laughing immediately.

My brother glared at me suspiciously. “Why would such an important goddess as Artemis want to hunt with you?” he sneered, jealously evident in his voice. “Because you're a pansy,” I sneered back. My father started laughing again. “I am not a pansy!” my brother shouted, his voice getting somewhat shrill. “There's nothing wrong with being the God of Love!”

I snorted. “What kind of man would take up the task of shooting people in the ass with a golden arrow?” As you can see, I was already well-versed in my father's “language.” My father let out a snort before bursting into full-blown laughter once more. “What would you know? It's fun shooting people with arrows and watching them go after one another like animals in heat!”

My mother sighed and rolled her eyes. “Alright, Eros, that's quite enough. Alala, if Artemis asked you to go hunting with her, you may. It is rude to refuse an invitation after all...” My father stared at my mother in disbelief before looking at me and raising an eyebrow. “Why does she get to go?” my brother whined, sounding extremely like a child. My mother sighed exasperatedly. “Because Artemis requested it! Now please, be quiet or go away, sweeting.” My mother only called my brother sweeting if she was desperate enough to get him to shut up. I, on the other hand, received no pet names.

Eros pouted before stomping off somewhere to sulk. I grinned, tasting victory on my tongue, and threw my arms around my mother's slender neck and cried, “Thank you!” I kissed her on the cheek before running off to the gardens again.

To my surprise, Artemis was gone. Did she ask to hunt with her only so she could me away from her while she escaped? Was she laughing at me right now? While I looked around for the huntress feeling perplexed, I heard soft chuckling behind me.

I turned to see Artemis leaning against a tree, smiling kindly. “What did she say?” she asked. “She said it was fine!” I was so delighted, it was all I could keep myself from jumping up and down.

Artemis grinned. “Right then. The first thing I'll teach you is how to use a bow and arrow...” And so began the lessons that would determine my place in Mount Olympus. Little did I know, it changed my life immensely.

TO BE CONTINUED

A/N: Okay, this was the first chapter to my story. How was it? Good? In need of improvement? Please tell me, I'd really like to know. (No flames though, please.) Anyway, if you're confused about the story, let me explain: Alala isn't real or part of Greek mythology. I made her up to be the daughter of Ares and Aphrodite because Ares is my favorite god. Aphrodite is okay, I just like Ares better. Also, Alala means "war goddess" so that's why I chose the name. Eros, her brother, the "real" son of Ares (or Hermes) and Aphrodite, is also known as Cupid. Yes, Cupid. That disgusting little cherub with tiny wings you see everywhere every Valentine's day. He is the God of Love. In this story, he is seven years older than Alala, although he's kind of a wimp. Also, Persephone is not a nymph. She just hangs out with them in this story. She is real in Greek Mytholgy and is the daughter of Zeus and Demeter. I've intended for the timeline to lead up to the ten-year Trojan war, but I may have already screwed it up already, with mentioning the affair of Ares and Aphrodite in here. But whatever. If this story confused you to the point of no return, you should probably brush up on your Greek mytholgy. Anyways, I hoped you enjoyed this. Please review!