That stupid bitch. Areiôn gritted his teeth as his eye twitched and his vision blurred from the eight-legged freak dangling in front of his eye.
He struggled from inside the cocoon reflexively--the bonds going against everything his nature stood for: movement, speed, freedom. He did not like being held down, and that very lack of control filled his stomachs with knots. Such action was neither sporting nor honorable. He thought Athene better than that, but as he struggled he came to a rather dangerous conclusion: Athene was just as crazy as Ares; even if they were polar opposites.
Perhaps the Prince of Horses merely forgotten that Athene was the ultimate control freak. Had time and the dwindling of powers left her as addled as Ares and the rest? Were they becoming more human? Or had the centuries of living unchanged, diminished and without the power to herd and play as they once did drive them all mad. More and more Areiôn found himself failing to see them as gods, but as lost children; in either case, it made matters more dangerous and infinitely more complicated.
They needed Zeus. Badly. For all of his boy-ish personality, he was King for a reason. Areiôn could only respect that. A plan of his very own began taking shape.
“I have a few things to say on the goddess’s behalf myself.” Areiôn nearly spat the words, struggling to keep his temper in check. It was working; barely. “I have seen her environment in the Underworld, as well as those who influenced her. I did not see what happened with her father, but I have seen enough to know that certain a certain Dog has been whispering in her ear; he has almost certainly spent months twisting at her emotions and her current problem. It is that same Dog who is currently sitting on the throne of Hades.
“Either directly or indirectly, I have no doubts that He played a role in the incident with Hermes.”