The Kindergarten Conqueror

The week had started normally enough—well, as normal as it could be with Zeus' latest decree that all young gods attend mortal elementary school to "build character."

Ares slouched in the plastic chair outside Principal Martinez's office, his tiny combat boots dangling well above the linoleum floor.

The secretary kept glancing nervously in his direction, particularly at the plastic sword confiscated from the playground that now lay across her desk like evidence in a war crimes tribunal.

This was his third visit this week, and he'd only started kindergarten on Monday.

"I was just playing conquest," he muttered, crossing his arms.

Ares had been doing just fine until Tommy said his block tower wasn't a proper fortress.

A proper fortress? He'd designed the walls of Troy! Well... he would, eventually.

He might have gotten a little carried away explaining this to Tommy, who now sat in the nurse's office with a block-shaped mark on his forehead.

In Ares' defense, he hadn't actually thrown the block—he'd simply demonstrated proper siege warfare using the entire kindergarten class's building supplies as ammunition.

The secretary's phone buzzed.

"Principal Martinez will see you now, young man."

Ares slid off the chair, drawing himself up to his full height of three feet six inches.

He'd faced down Titans, monsters, and his father's lightning bolts.

Some mortal principal didn't scare—

"Hi! Why are you so grumpy?"

The voice was small and bright, like wind chimes in a summer breeze. Ares turned to find another kindergartener with blonde pigtails that curled at the ends, her blue eyes wide with genuine curiosity.

She clutched a stuffed pegasus that had definitely seen better days, its once-white coat now gray, one wing hanging by threads.

"I'm not grumpy," Ares grumbled, lisping slightly through his missing front tooth.

"I'm wrathful. There's a difference."

"I'm Sarah. I'm in Mrs. Peterson's class too! But I never saw you at story time."

"Story time is for babies," Ares declared, though he secretly wondered what stories mortals told their young.

"Nuh-uh. It's the best part! Today we learned about dragons!" She held up her pegasus.

"This is Cloudy. He got hurt fighting a cer... a cere..." She scrunched up her face in concentration.

"A three-headed doggy! But he was very brave."

"Cerberus," Ares corrected automatically.

"He guards the Underw—" He caught himself.

"I mean... that's a cool story."

Sarah smiled, beaming at him.

"You can say big words! Mommy says I'm still learning. Cloudy gets grumpy too, but then I give him hugs and he feels better."

"I don't need hugs. I need these mor— these other kids to understand the glory of combat, the thrill of—" He caught himself again.

"Why am I even talking to you?"

Sarah just giggled.

"You're funny! Want to hold Cloudy? He's magic—he can fly and everything!"

The secretary cleared her throat.

"Principal Martinez is waiting."

Sarah grabbed his hand. Her tiny fingers were sticky with what he hoped was just jelly.

"Want me to come with you? Cloudy says you're scared."

"I am the God of War! I fear nothing!"

The plastic sword on the secretary's desk rattled ominously.

Sarah just laughed.

"You're silly. Come on, I'll protect you from the principal."

She tugged him toward the office door, Cloudy dangling from her other hand.

Before Ares could protest this indignity, he found himself seated in another plastic chair, this time facing Principal Martinez's desk. Sarah had somehow wedged herself onto the same chair, half-sitting on his lap.

"Young man," Principal Martinez began, "this is your third visit this week. The finger-painting incident on Tuesday—"

"The red paint clearly showed the proper formation for battle!"

"—the nap time rebellion on Wednesday—"

"Warriors don't nap! We rest with one eye open!"

"—and now today's... architectural disagreement."

Sarah perked up.

"Did you build blocks? I love blocks! But my mommy says we have to share and be nice, or nobody wants to play with us."

Principal Martinez blinked, seemingly noticing Sarah for the first time.

"Sarah, sweetheart, what are you doing here?"

"Helping my new friend! He's not bad, he's just sad 'cause nobody wants to play right."

She turned to Ares.

"Do you want to build a castle with me? We can make it super big and strong!"

Ares opened his mouth to deliver a scathing retort about how fortifications weren't about "playing," but Sarah was already holding Cloudy out to him. The pegasus's remaining wing flopped sadly.

"Here. Cloudy wants to be your friend too. He's extra brave 'cause he fought the three-headed doggy!"

Something strange happened then.

Maybe it was Sarah's complete lack of fear or judgment. Maybe it was the way she offered friendship as easily as breathing. Or maybe it was just that no one had ever handed him a stuffed animal before without it being some kind of trick.

Ares took Cloudy carefully, as if disarming a bomb.

"His... his wing is hurt."

"Yeah, but I still love him. Mom's teaching me to sew, so I'm gonna fix him up soon. You wanna help?"

Principal Martinez watched this exchange with raised eyebrows.

"Sarah, don't you need to get back to class?"

"But he needs friends! Look how lonely he is!"

She hugged Ares' arm.

"Can we play together at recess? I know where all the best rocks are for building forts!"

Something warm and unfamiliar spread through Ares' chest.

He looked at the principal, then at Sarah, then at Cloudy's drooping wing.

"I... I know lots about forts."

Principal Martinez's stern expression softened slightly.

"Perhaps we can discuss an alternative to a time-out. Sarah, would you be willing to show our new friend how we play nicely with others during recess?"

"Yes!"

Sarah bounced excitedly.

"We can make the biggest castle ever! And then we can protect it from dragons! But no throwing blocks," she added firmly to Ares.

"That's the most important rule."

"No throwing blocks," Ares agreed, surprising himself.

"Though perhaps some basic defensive strategies..."

Later that day, the playground witnessed something unprecedented: the God of War, armed with nothing but a plastic shovel, a bucket, and determination, helping his new best friend construct the most tactically sound sandbox castle fort that Olympus had ever seen.

And if anyone noticed that he'd carefully tied his own shoelace around Cloudy's wing to keep it attached until proper repairs could be made, well, they wisely kept it to themselves.

As Sarah explained the vital importance of putting flowers on the towers "because they're pretty."

Ares found himself thinking that maybe—just maybe—not all mortals were completely hopeless.

Some of them, especially the ones with sticky fingers and pegasus-loving hearts, might even be worth protecting.

But he'd never admit that to Zeus.

He had a reputation to maintain after all.