I wrote this last year for another group and it occurred to me you guys might like it. The only thing I've changed are the names
Enjoy!
They all look so happy, he mused as he sprawled on his Throne, one leg casually hooked over the side, watching the sea of activity surrounding him. He tapped idly on the arm of the throne, frowning in slight irritation when one or two of them burst into spontaneous carol singing as they moved the figures in the Nativity Scene into better positions. He exhaled in resignation and turned his attention to the other side of the vast chamber containing the most sacred object in his temple - the altar dedicated to him, and him alone.
The candles on the Menorah were now up to six illuminated, golden flames. He observed the quiet joy on the face of the woman who had lit the sixth candle and quickly looked away. The tapping on the arm rest grew slightly more pronounced.
Yet another group were placing gifts with great care around the base of his altar, all the while singing happily and rowdily of the coming Winter Solstice.
A long trestle table had been set up along one wall of the chamber. It was groaning under the weight of all the food on it. Several punch bowls were placed at intervals along the table, waiting to be sampled.
Against the other wall stood a similar table. But on this one Ares' followers were placing boxes and packages of food and other items that they had prepared and would later deliver to those less fortunate. The God of War had made no objection when he had been petitioned to allow this particular activity, but he had made it clear that he himself would play no part in distributing the items. This had satisfied them, and slightly miffed him - for reasons he didn't particularly want to examine.
"Would you like some egg nog, Ares?" Asked a soft, feminine voice to his left.
Ares turned and glowered at the woman, a small, petite blonde. "If I had wanted egg nog, I would have asked for it," he barked sharply. She said nothing, but the god saw all too clearly the moisture that began to fill her eyes.
He relented. Slightly.
"But now you mention it... Thank you, my pet, I will have some," he told her, his full lips curling into a slight smile.
She beamed back, relieved, and handed him the steaming goblet before moving away to offer some to her sister devotees.
As Ares sipped from the goblet, he reflected on the unwarranted act of kindness.
Why did they do it, he wondered, not for the first time. There was nothing in it for them, except for a smile and a thank you.
Nothing of real, lasting consequence, he thought, shrugging dismissively and returning his attention to the preparations for the festivities.
His dark gaze swept the massive chamber, falling in turn on each one of his most devoted worshippers. They never hesitated when he sent them into battle, or demanded anything else of them. Well, most of the time they never hesitated. Sometimes they did choose to argue the point with him. But the very fact that they weren't afraid to stand up to him was something he perversely valued in them all. He had personally handpicked each one of them and not one had ever let him down, for all that at times they tried his patience to the limit.
Still, he let them live. Every one of them.
He blinked and winced slightly as a particularly loud burst of Deck the Halls reverberated throughout the chamber.
Damn them and that blasted, unending CHEERFUL caroling. He exhaled again, this time in annoyance.
As he sipped some more of the exotically flavoured eggnog, an unwelcome thought floated into his consciousness. WHY did he allow them to come into his very altar chamber and all but defile it with their cheerfulness, their decorations and their damn singing?
Abruptly he shifted his leg from it's lazy position and sat up straighter on his throne, his eternal gaze shifting inwards and away from the merry activities around him.
I let them do it because they are my nearest and dearest. No...that's not quite true. It's more than that. They're my real family. They choose to be with me - to offer themselves to me. Because... Because... He swallowed convulsively, wishing the thought that was surging up to Tartarous - anywhere than in his consciousness. But it wouldn't be pushed aside. Not this time.
Because they love me. And because I love them. In my own rough, inadequate spartan way, I love them.
"Happy Holidays!" The happy greeting brought him back to his surroundings and he abruptly wished the moisture in his eyes gone, and an instant later, he wore his usual severe mien.
"Ares! Ares!" The excited cry came from in front of his altar. He looked down.
"Ares, we have something for you! Come down! Please?" Several voices now chimed in, causing him to frown. They probably wouldn't give up until he did as they asked, he thought, so he rose from his throne and stalked down the stairs leading to his Throne.
"Well? What is it?" He asked them, almost warily.
Several beautifully wrapped boxes were placed on the altar and the women all came to surround the god they worshipped.
"What is it?" He muttered, not moving.
"Open them and see!" One of them shouted impatiently, earning a glower from the God of War. But it went unremarked.
He sighed, and moved towards the Altar.
The first package contained a stunning stiletto, with what was clearly a priceless ruby set in the hilt. It was clearly the work of Hephaestus and several of the woman beamed with pleasure at the stunned look on Ares' face.
For a moment he was silent, seeming to examine the exquisite craftsmanship and detail on the stiletto. When he raised his eyes, he simply said, "Thank you."
Another box was opened to reveal several dozen scrolls, clearly with one being from each of the women who frequented his temple. He selected one of them at random. His eyes narrowed and a sly grin appeared on his dark face. He looked at the woman who's name was on the scroll. "Kendaa, my sweet - I had no idea you could be so...inventive. I'll collect on this gift of yours later in the week - be ready," he told her, his voice now a velvet caress in and of itself.
Now he smiled in earnest as he opened several more of the scrolls, and in the end, laughing outright when he read Whisper's.
"I can see how much thought you have put into all this, ladies - and you, my dear Whisper, may be assured that I'll be looking especially forward to your gift. Oh...and I'll bring the chocolate sauce, my dear," he told her with a wicked gleam.
"Ares, you can open the rest of them later! Right now -here's the mistletoe, and the line begins behind ME!" Mallenia grinned wickedly, standing directly under the branch and playfully jostling Mermaid, who had raced up to stand right behind her.
The God of War smiled widely at the two woman. Every one of his Amazons had gone to great lengths to make sure he received something special and unique from them. He didn't understand it, but for some reason, his heart was doing something it never did. He wasn't sure he liked it, but...what the Hades - it only happened once a year.
"Thank you. Thank you all," he told them quietly, before adding, a little more loudly. "But don't get used to this. You get a dispensation for just once a year!"
As he strode towards the mistletoe and the waiting Mallenia, and all his worshippers broke records to get into line - with Whisper, Kendaa, Fayee, 'shana, Bastet, Wike, Aquila, and several others happily and unashamedly pushing and shoving their way into the line, The God of War glanced once more at the Christmas Tree, the Nativity Scene, the Menorah and all the other items and decorations in the chamber. He formed a thought and sent it out into the cold, snowy night.
Around the world, as clocks chimed the midnight hour, guns fell silent, bombs failed to explode, knives veered off and away from their human targets. Soldiers and snipers, bewildered and stunned by the sudden silence, slowly crept out of bunkers, trenches and bombed-out buildings. For some reason unknown to them, they moved forward and began shaking each other's hands, smiling and offering seasons greetings.
And for several precious, wondrous hours, there really was peace on earth.
Finis.
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