A snippet from the Stranded-verse:
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Ares' newest brother was a small thing, he thought.
He was tall enough for a mortal, perhaps, and certainly strong enough; even clad in a loose-flowing chiton[1], the corded muscle in his arms and legs, as well as the easy grace[2] he held himself with, spoke plainly for themselves.
Still, he was tiny in comparison to a god; not even Dionysus had been that small as a mortal, Ares recalled[3]. He stood by the entrance to the throne room, the elaborate pillars looming over his small size. Despite the sleep-mussed tousle of his gold hair, his blue eyes — the same blue as the open skies when Father was in one of his gentler moods — were wide and alert, like a chick[4] caught playing somewhere it shouldn't.
"Er," Jason said in the silence. "I'm very, very sorry for the interruption. I didn't mean to come here — I'll leave right now."
The sharp points of Aphrodite's perfect nails dug into the meat of his arm.
"Ares," she whispered fervently, gleaming eyes fixed on Ares' godling brother like he'd disappear into thin air if she looked away. Her pupils had enlarged, nearly swallowing the orange-red of her irises[5]. "he's so lovely...!"
Ares just watched his mortal brother inch backwards from the entrance in careful, measured steps, as if his presence itself was a nuisance.
Ridiculous. Who would bar a prince of Olympus from exploring his own home? Ares wondered, with no little bloodlust, if someone had put that idea in his brother's head, made him feel unwelcome. One of the nymphs, perhaps — and where were the nymphs that Father had assigned to his bedside, who ought to have attended to him as soon as he awoke? What if something had happened to Ares' youngest brother (fragile, mortals were always so fragile —) while he was recovering?
Ares' fingers tightened around the armrest of his throne, feeling the marble crack under his outstretched talons.
Failing to attend to a royal prince was a sin punishable by death. If his father wouldn't smite those wretched nymphs, Ares would himself.
Unsurprisingly, it was Apollon who broke the silence.
"And where would you go without any shoes, little brother?" He chided teasingly, voice suffused with fondness. "Quite the runaway you'd make, our little barefoot cygnet[6]."
Yet another sign of unacceptable carelessness from his assigned attendants. Who had ever heard of a godling being forced to walk around with no shoes? He saw Aphrodite's expression twitch.
Ares' youngest brother looked down at his feet, seemingly only just realising that he'd wandered out of Father and Mother's bedchambers with no footwear. He flushed, a faint pink dusting across his high cheekbones.
Aphrodite cooed, her displeasure momentarily forgotten. Apollon and Hermes grinned. Athena hid a smile behind her hand, and Artemis' silver eyes gleamed with mirth. Even Hephaestus' scowl seemed less pronounced.
Father stood up from his throne, with more haste than Ares had seen from him in centuries.
"Jason," he declared, echoing Ares' earlier thoughts. "You are my son, a prince of Olympus. There is no place in my skies that you cannot go."
"And no place below it that you cannot tread," Poseidon added, like the sun-warmed waters of the coast. Ares' younger brother stared at him.
Ares' father sent a grateful glance at his uncle. When he looked back at Jason, his expression softened.
"My child. Would you come to me?"
Jason blinked.
"...Right now?" His fist clenched around something Ares could not see. "You guys look busy — I'd hate to interrupt. I can come back later."
His gaze flickered around the throne room like he was cataloguing every potential exit; it looked more akin to a habit, rather than an action borne from purpose. From across the room, Ares saw Hermes, eyes narrowed and tracking every location that his youngest brother even glanced at.
A soldier's instinct. Ares scowled, despite knowing that it was a useful habit to have. He approved to a certain extent; he was, of course, pleased that his youngest brother had all the makings of an excellent warrior. But to know that his life had driven those instincts into him, had made it necessary to hone his reactions so sharply?
That was something Ares disliked. Very much so.
His father's expression hardened. Evidently he too had seen Jason's flickering gaze. But the hardness disappeared before Jason could notice it.
"We could never be too busy for you, Jason." he corrected gently. "Would you allow me to introduce you to the rest of our family?"
Briefly, Ares' youngest brother looked like he had bitten into a lemon. His fist tightened around the same unseen object he had yet to reveal — some sort of talisman, perhaps? Or a weapon? But what weapon would be so small —, but his grip relaxed slightly as a look of resignation passed over his face.
"Sure," he said.
Ares noted that, however, he had yet to fully open his fist.
He was still uneasy. That was fine; Father had told them about how Jason had been raised, brought up by faithless heathens who had the audacity to hide him from the gods — like he wasn't a miracle, but rather something to be sequestered away. It was only natural that he would need more time to acclimate to Olympus.
Ares thought of a small animal staring warily as it pressed itself into a corner, its fur bristled and puffed in agitation.
...Perhaps he could understand why Artemis adored every furry creature under her moon.
Regardless, if it was time that Ares' brother needed, then it was time that they would give. For all that strategy and wisdom were Athena's domains, Ares understood the need for patience; the best war plans hinged on knowing when to act and when to wait, and this was a battle that none of them could afford to lose.
And, well...
(Mortality is a temporary affliction, Athena had declared when the subject had been brought up, as Ares' new brother slumbered in Father and Mother's bedchambers. One that can easily be...cured.
Father nodded, pleased. Mother smiled, one of her golden apples already in hand.
Ares thought of the boy curled up in their parent's bed, dwarfed by the soft sheets. His scarred hand crumpled under his cheek as he slept, a faint frown marring his features even in slumber. So young, and yet already so burdened.
Cured. Ares liked the sound of that.)
They had all the time in the world.
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[1] Simple (at Jason's request), but woven with the finest fabric available to Olympus. Ares doesn't note this because, well, he's Ares.
[2] Heh.
[3] Just to be clear, Jason is in no way a small guy. Dude's like 6 foot plus and built like a quarterback; he's not a shrinking violet by any means. The gods, however, are just huge for no reason, so all mortals seem small to them.
[4] One of Ares' sacred animals is the vulture, and a baby vulture is called a chick. Look at this cutie!
[5] Adult doves typically have bright red to orange-red irises with relatively large pupils.
[6] One of Apollo's sacred animals is the swan, and a baby swan is called a cygnet. Am I just using this snippet as an excuse for Jason to be called "baby animal" in 100 different ways? No comment.
