Lysander crept up the sweeping stairway, turning about the corner to tip-toe down the hall. He noticed Ares lurking in the shadows, hanging right near him. His stomach tied in a knot, Lysander nodded briefly at Ares and grabbed onto the doorknob which led to King Kelos' grand chamber.
The full light of the day spread it's way through the windows as he stepped inside, gripping his dagger beneath his cloak, his sword at his side. Ares walked from a shadowy corner, gesturing to another door. "There-there your prey lies."
Gulping, Lysander followed Ares' orders and strolled towards the door, half opened already. Like a shadow, he slipped into the bed chamber.
King Kelos stood at the foot of his bed, staring at him with wide eyes, as if he was expecting Lysander. "I know why you are here." the king murured, still frozen in his spot. "But you will be wrong in your be vengence, as it will not be proper."
Lysander did not heed his words, pulling his dagger and slowly stepping forward. Ares watched from the corner, greedily rubbing his hands together.
An arrow narrowly missed him as he lept out the window. Ares had disappeared, right as Lysander needed him. Desperately, he scaled down the palace wall, leaping into the gardens just as they gazed down from the window at him. He heard cries and sobs of women, though he had no time to linger on his duty, only that his revenge was complete and justice was brought.
Soliders seemed to come at him from all sides, and his legs burned as he bolted, climbing over the palace walls. He ripped through the city markets, tearing through people mindlessly as the guards stumbled behind him. Breathing heavily, he escaped the city, fleeing far and deep into the forrest, the sound of the warrior's heavy footsteps fading behind him.
Blood was on his dagger, blood was on his hands. His limbs trembling from shock and exertion, he collapsed on the forest floor, the only noise the song of the woods about him.
"Wake, Lysander, son of Ajax!" came a great cry, stirring him from his sleeping state.
Though his mind in a haze, his vision blurred, it sharpened at the glance of the great Goddess standing before him, her steely gray gown falling about her extraordinary tall stature, her hard, wise eyes gazing upon him. It was Athena, the Goddess of Wisdom and Justice.
"You have single-handedly wrongly wrought havoc on all of Greece, boy!" she thundered. "In your quest for revenge and your fit of fury you have slaughtered the wrong man and have Greece torn by war!"
Lysander gasped, his knees weakening. "No!" he cried, falling to the ground, hiding his face in his hands, for he knew her words to be filled with only truth and honesty.
More gently, she put her hand on his shoulder, "Rise again, Lysander." Slowly, he pulled himself up. Her silver eyes were still stern and cold, yet there was a slight softening of sympathy in them. "We know it was a mistake, a mistake that will cost Greece severly. We feel pity towards you, as it is well known your actions were fulfilled with the most heroic, honorable intentions, but Ares had lead you awry, using you for his own good."
Lysander looked at his hands, "What may I do, Wise Athena?"
"You shall return to your own King." she nodded. "As he will be accredited with the death of Kelos, and Kelos' brother Pxyln will become king and declare war. You shall serve your king dutifully, as you know that this bloodshed is your own fault, even if it costs you your own death."
He nodded, pondering her words. "It is what is right." he finally said.
"Then be off! There is no time to waste!" she declared, melting into the air and disappearing from Lysander's eyes.