A Dish Best Served Cold... Again.

The glitter cannon was primed. Sarah, perched precariously on a stepladder in the school auditorium’s dusty prop room, double-checked the confetti load for the fifteenth time.

This wasn't just any confetti; it was biodegradable, multi-colored, and specifically designed to cling to hair and clothing like a lovesick limpet. Her masterpiece. Her final, glorious act of kindergarten-fueled vengeance against a literal deity.

Downstairs, the DJ was already spinning some questionable pop anthems, the bass thrumming through the floorboards and vibrating up through Sarah’s sneakers.

Prom. The culmination of twelve years of shared hallways, questionable cafeteria food, and, for Sarah, a singular, burning desire for retribution against the god of war himself.

Ares, the unwitting target of her elaborate scheme, was probably, at this very moment, adjusting his bow tie in front of a mirror, blissfully unaware that his perfectly coiffed hair was about to become a vibrant, sticky monument to a forgotten sandcastle.

He was the god of war, for Olympus’ sake, and yet, here he was, attending senior prom. It was absurd, but then, so was her grudge.

Their story, as all good revenge stories do, began in sandbox innocence.

Kindergarten. The halcyon days of juice boxes and nap mats. Sarah, a meticulous architect even at five, had spent an entire morning crafting “Castle Sparklehoof,” a truly magnificent sand-based fortress complete with seashell turrets and a moat filled with imaginary crocodiles.

It was her magnum opus, a testament to her budding creative genius. She later suspected divine intervention had led the most boisterous, sand-destroying force in the universe directly to her masterpiece.

Then came Ares. A blur of boundless energy and uncoordinated limbs, he’d been chasing a particularly iridescent blue butterfly, a fleeting moment of childhood wonder that had, unfortunately, led him directly through Castle Sparklehoof.

The crunch of sand, the scattering of seashells, the bewildered flutter of the butterfly as it escaped the chaos—Sarah remembered it all with the vivid clarity of a traumatic event.

Her castle, reduced to a haphazard mound of displaced grains. Her artistic dreams, shattered. He was the god of war. He probably thought nothing of a little collateral damage.

He’d apologized, of course. A tearful, snot-nosed apology from a five-year-old who genuinely hadn’t meant to cause an architectural catastrophe. But Sarah, even then, knew. Some things couldn’t be forgiven with a hasty “sorry.” Not when the perpetrator was a literal god who should have known better.

Her revenge had been a slow burn, a series of increasingly elaborate and mildly inconvenient pranks throughout their shared academic career.

In third grade, she’d switched his orange juice for a concoction of watered-down pickle brine at the class picnic. He’d declared it a “strategic beverage for tactical hydration.”

In middle school, a well-placed thumbtack on his chair during the school play’s dress rehearsal had resulted in a rather undignified yelp from the future Romeo. He claimed it was a “test of his mortal fortitude.”

And in freshman year, she’d convinced the entire football team that his lucky pre-game ritual involved wearing mismatched socks and singing show tunes. The team had won, coincidentally, making the ritual stick for an entire season. Ares had simply called it “a unique form of psychological warfare.”

But this, prom night, was the grand finale.

The pièce de résistance.

The final, devastating blow that would avenge Castle Sparklehoof once and for all. It was time for the god of war to face his most formidable mortal enemy: a glitter cannon.

“Sarah? You up there?”

It was Chloe, her best friend and co-conspirator, her voice muffled by the auditorium door.

“Almost ready!” Sarah called back, securing the last latch on the cannon. “Is he here yet?”

“Front and center! Looking annoyingly handsome, as usual,” Chloe replied, a hint of amusement in her tone. “He’s with… Jessica Rodriguez.”

Sarah smirked.

Jessica. The prom queen favorite, the girl with the perpetually perfect hair and a smile that could blind small animals. This just made her plan even sweeter. The humiliation would be amplified, a public spectacle for the ages, witnessed by mortals and, hopefully, a few curious Olympians.

She climbed down the stepladder, dusting off her emerald green gown.

“Perfect. I’ll give it five more minutes for the dance floor to properly fill up. Then… detonation.”

Chloe, ever the pragmatist, raised an eyebrow.

“You know, this is a lot of effort for something that happened when we were five.”

Sarah leaned against the cannon, her eyes glinting.

“Chloe, you just don’t understand the depth of artistic despair caused by a trampled sandcastle. It scarred me. Emotionally. Financially, probably, in terms of therapy I’ll need later. And he’s the god of war! He knew the destructive power of unbridled enthusiasm!”

“Right. And the pickle brine incident? Was that for therapy too?”

“Pre-emptive measures against future acts of divine clumsiness,” Sarah said dismissively.

“Now, where’s the remote trigger?”

Chloe handed her a small, innocuous-looking clicker.

“Don’t say I never got you anything nice.”

They descended to the main auditorium, the beat of the music growing louder with each step. The gym, transformed for one night into a glittering wonderland of fairy lights and plastic decorations, was packed.

Couples swayed awkwardly, friends laughed too loudly, and the air hummed with nervous excitement.

Sarah scanned the crowd, her gaze landing on Ares.

He was indeed looking annoyingly handsome in a crisp black tux, his dark hair gleaming under the disco ball. Jessica, in a shimmering silver dress, was clinging to his arm, her laugh echoing slightly too shrilly. Sarah felt a satisfying surge of vindication. She was about to humble a god.

She steered Chloe towards the edge of the dance floor, feigning casual conversation while subtly positioning herself for the optimal shot.

The glitter cannon was strategically placed above the stage, directly over the main dance area. Her calculations had been precise.

The DJ, sensing a lull, announced, “Alright everyone, time for a classic! Get your partners close for the next one!”

A slow song began to play, a syrupy ballad that had undoubtedly been chosen by the prom committee’s most sentimental member.

Couples, including Ares and Jessica, gravitated towards the center of the dance floor, forming a concentrated mass of swaying bodies.

“This is it,” Sarah whispered, her heart pounding with a mixture of anticipation and pure, unadulterated glee. Her thumb hovered over the trigger.

She pictured Castle Sparklehoof, its once majestic towers now flattened, its moat a sad puddle. She remembered the bewildered butterfly, freed from Ares’s clumsy pursuit, flitting away into the kindergarten sky, leaving behind a trail of… well, glitter, in her current revenge fantasy.

Ares, now holding Jessica close, actually smiled at her. A genuine, easygoing smile that had been honed over years of being popular and generally well-liked. He hadn’t noticed her. Not really. He probably didn't even remember the sandcastle incident, despite his divine memory. That made it even better.

Her finger pressed down.

Nothing.

Sarah frowned. She pressed again, harder this time. Still nothing. The slow song continued its mournful melody. Ares and Jessica twirled gently.

Panic began to bubble. Had the cannon malfunctioned? Had her intricate plans gone awry at the last minute? Had a rival deity intervened?

Chloe, sensing her distress, nudged her.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s not working!” Sarah hissed, frantically mashing the button.

Just then, a voice boomed from the stage, amplified by the school’s creaky sound system.

“Alright, folks, gather ‘round! It’s time for the crowning of our Prom King and Queen!”

Ares and Jessica, along with several other couples, were ushered towards the stage. Sarah’s eyes widened.

No, no, no. This wasn’t part of the plan.

The glitter needed to rain down during a regular dance, a moment of spontaneous, chaotic humiliation. Not during the dignified crowning ceremony of a god of war disguised as a high school senior.

“And this year’s Prom King and Queen are… Ares Kingston and Jessica Rodriguez!”

A roar of applause erupted. Ares and Jessica beamed, accepting their crowns with practiced grace. They stood side-by-side, bathed in the soft glow of the stage lights, looking every bit the picture-perfect prom royalty.

Sarah felt a cold dread settle in her stomach. This was it. Her last chance. The cannon was still stubbornly silent.

“As a special treat,” the principal’s voice continued, oblivious to Sarah’s internal meltdown, “we have a little something extra planned for our King and Queen’s first dance!”

Suddenly, the stage lights dimmed.

A spotlight swung around, illuminating Ares and Jessica, who had just begun to sway to a new, more upbeat song.

And then, with a thunderous WHOOSH, the glitter cannon above the stage roared to life.

A veritable avalanche of multi-colored, super-sticky glitter descended upon Ares and Jessica.

It clung to Jessica’s perfectly styled hair, turning it into a shimmering, psychedelic mop. It dusted Ares’s sharp black tux, transforming him into a human disco ball. It landed on their crowns, making them sparkle with an intensity that could rival a supernova.

The music faltered. The crowd, initially stunned into silence, erupted into gasps, then giggles, then outright laughter.

Ares, his eyes wide with disbelief, tried to brush the glitter off his face, only to find it stubbornly adhering to his skin.

Jessica, for the first time in anyone’s memory, looked less than perfect. Her perfect smile had been replaced by a look of bewildered horror.

Sarah, initially shocked that the cannon had finally fired, felt a triumphant wave wash over her. It wasn’t exactly as planned, but it was glorious.

It was public. It was… extra.

And it covered a god in glitter.

Ares looked out at the laughing crowd, then up at the cannon, and then, slowly, his eyes found Sarah’s.

His expression wasn’t angry. It wasn’t even particularly annoyed.

It was… a wry, knowing smile.

And then, he did something that completely threw Sarah off guard. He started to laugh. A deep, genuine chuckle that vibrated through the glittering air.

Jessica, still trying to flick glitter off her eyelashes, glared at him.

“Ares, what are you doing? We’re covered in… in confetti!”

“Glitter, Jess,” Ares corrected, still laughing. He looked at Sarah again, then back at Jessica. He held out a hand to his glittering prom queen.

"Come on, Your Majesty. Our first dance.”

And he pulled Jessica into a twirl, sending even more glitter scattering.

He danced with gusto, his glittering tux flashing under the lights, making a mockery of the whole glitter-bombing attempt. The crowd, encouraged by his reaction, started to cheer, some even throwing their own scattered glitter from the floor into the air.

Sarah watched, dumbfounded. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to be embarrassed. Mortified. Humiliated!

How could the god of war be so unbothered by a shower of glitter?

Ares, still dancing, leaned down and whispered something to Jessica. Jessica, after a moment of hesitation, even managed a small, glittering smile.

As the song ended, Ares, still sparkling like a Christmas ornament, walked off the stage, making a beeline for Sarah.

“That was… elaborate, Sarah,” he said, his eyes twinkling. He reached out and plucked a particularly large piece of fuchsia glitter from her hair.

“Castle Sparklehoof, I presume? A direct strike, worthy of a goddess of vengeance.”

Sarah stared at him, unable to form a coherent sentence.

“You… you remember? And you know…?”

He laughed, a sound that was surprisingly charming, even when muffled by a thousand tiny pieces of plastic.

"How could I forget? You cried for like, an hour. Then you switched my juice for pickle brine in third grade. And the thumbtack in middle school? Definitely felt that one, a truly strategic placement. And the socks and show tunes… you’ve been planning this for a while, haven’t you, my persistent mortal?”

Sarah felt her cheeks flush.

“Well… yeah. I mean, you destroyed my architectural masterpiece. I didn’t have a choice. As the god of war, you should have known the consequences of such destructive actions.”

Ares grinned, a genuine, unburdened grin that completely disarmed her.

“Fair enough. And honestly? This was your best one yet. Jessica’s going to be finding glitter in her hair for weeks. She’s less amused than I am, though, as I believe she’s still attempting to remove a rather large piece from her eyeball.”

He glanced back at the still-glittering Jessica, who was now being escorted away by a concerned-looking chaperone.

“She’s not quite cut out for this level of chaotic glory.”

“You’re… not mad? You’re a god! Of war!” Sarah asked, completely thrown.

“Mad? Sarah, this is prom. You just made it legendary. Besides,” he leaned in conspiratorially, his voice dropping, “a little chaos and a strategic glitter bomb? That’s practically my domain. I’m kinda digging the whole glitter aesthetic. Might make this my new battle attire.”

He twirled dramatically, sending another cascade of glitter shimmering to the floor.

Sarah found herself laughing, a genuine, bubbling laugh that surprised even herself.

"You’re ridiculous, Ares Kingston. Absolutely ridiculous.”

“Only for you, Sarah,” he said, his eyes still holding that mischievous twinkle.

“Only for the mortal who waged a twelve-year war against a god over a sandcastle.” He paused, then held out a glitter-dusted hand.

“So, since you made me prom king, how about a dance, Queen of Vengeance? Or perhaps, my new mortal champion of chaos?”

Sarah looked at his outstretched hand, then at his sparkling form, and then out at the still-laughing crowd.

Her masterpiece of revenge hadn’t quite gone as planned. It had been messy, a little chaotic, and ultimately, it had backfired spectacularly by making him even more popular and, inexplicably, even more charming.

But as she took his hand, feeling the surprising warmth of his palm against hers, she realized something.

Maybe, just maybe, some things were better when they didn't go exactly as planned.

After all, what was a little glitter between a mortal and a god?

Especially when that glitter might just lead to the most memorable dance of prom night. And a new, unexpected chapter in their long, ridiculous, and surprisingly enduring story, spanning both the mortal and divine realms.