What do you do for the girl who is everything?

“Absolutely nothing” goes one school of thought. Why in the name of all that is good, decent, and sensible are you getting involved with a girl like that in the first place?! What are you to the universe? Could the sum total of your life cause even an atom to drift out of its place? Are you surprised that the tales of those who follow after Zeus earn their glory in blood and agony, and only sometimes that of other people? Flee. Run, if you can. Placate yourself to those mad enough to play in her domain, and spend your days under the care of gentler hands.

The barest hint of Zeus’ aspect recognizes its own. Sparks finer than hairs dart out to lick at Vasilia’s armor, punching her skin with a hundred burning needles. To stand before her, just to [i]stand[/i] incurs a cost. Forwards or backwards, she will pay greater still. “Y-Yes. Well.” Why is she here? Why must it be her? Why must it [i]always[/i] be her? Why, after everything, does she keep doing this to herself? “If I could not distract your eyes from the nearest skirts for even a few moments, what good would I even do with your lightning?”

Why does she do this, for the girl who is everything?

Because only the ones who show up get to play a hand in what happens here. And the only thing worse than the Master of Assassins remaking the galaxy in blood and bark is letting her do it by default.

Silence should not fall on the galaxy, on everyone, just because it put the work in.

*******************

“I admit. I am…not the best suited, personally, to stand in command over your daughter.”

He hears the shell-shocked voices, giving their report. He sees the wall of empty tables around her in the cafeteria. He turns to stone when her attention falls on him. Wolves and plants both will hunt him in his dreams tonight.

“But I am not alone here, and neither is she. She is young. She is learning. And if I can do nothing else for her, I can give her the space and allowance she needs. Maybe someone better than me can help her find her voice, and what might she sing then?”

“But this?” Bodies lurch across the field, three times maimed, and still it is not over. “How can this be…what else can this be, but, but…” He shakes his head furiously. “I don’t know how to even speak of it. This is much, Lord Hades, and I already have not spoken as carefully as I ought to have, and I apologize.”

So, perhaps. The better thing to say would be as little as possible.

“I understand that you have done more than enough already. I ask nothing more of you.” With a whisper of steel, his sword appears in his hand. “We will still lay them to rest, though. Not for any blessing. But because someone ought to.”

*******************

A word, then, for the battle, and the roles of Princess and Captain.

No one may stop the garden of Demeter. But only Epestia may be capable of slowing it down without joining their ranks. If the hands of Demeter are greedy enough to try and take her for her own, they will be reduced to nothing by the fury of Ares. How dare she? How [i]dare[/i] she?! He will not let go of his precious prize so easily. Not here. Not today. Not in his own domain. As her allies contend with the Kaeri and plovers, Epestia will collect from the gardens of Demeter for every inch of ground, and the distance between them will serve them all.

As to the Captain and his second, they are skirmishers to the core. Fast, quiet, capable of gravity-defying maneuvers without a breath to give them away, their place is not in the front. As the clouds of toxic gas build, they dart under their stinging cover to find their targets. Exposed power cables. Allies in peril. Anywhere fates hang on a knife’s edge, it is their solemn duty to fly in unannounced and deliver a fatally unexpected kick.