There are names whispered across Olympus and beyond—spoken with reverence, curiosity, and no small measure of fear.
Some belong to gods.
Some to monsters.
And some…to something in between.
Alena is not easily defined. Not by blood, not by history, and certainly not by those who would try to place her neatly into one world or another.
When she first came to the shores of War, she was not a queen, nor a legend. She was a woman at the edge of her life, cast into the unknown.
“I didn’t walk into anything,” she tells us. “I washed up on his shore after believing I had been shipwrecked—though later that wasn’t the truth.”
That shore belonged to Ares, God of War.
Her first impression was not reverence.
“I thought I’d come to the island of a madman…who thought he was Ares.” She smiles easily as she waves to the table in front of us laden with tea and cakes. “Sit, please. Ask me your questions.”
You’ve been described as neither fully one thing nor another. Do you see that as a weakness… or a kind of freedom?
“What a strange question. Why would it need to be either?”
She asks me in return then grins as though she’s revealing some delicious secret
“I cannot change my ancestry, it is simply part of me. I am Fey. I am Human. I am…more.”
Taking up a lovely china cup of Earl Grey she raises the steaming liquid to her waiting lips but her eyes never leave mine. It’s as though she’s gauging me with percision.
“If you’re really asking how I feel about the divine blood that runs through my veins, that was hard to come to terms with. Especially where Ares is concerned.”
“I am Fey. I am Human. I am…more.”
Ares is feared across both mortal and divine worlds. What did you see in him that others never could?
“My husband is feared for good reason,” she says. “He is not someone to be trifled with. But what others overlooked was his heart. His intentions.” Her eyes seem to sparkle for a moment before she continues.
“He revels in blood and battle—sometimes for the thrill of it—but often, he has his reasons when he wars.”
The sparkle in her stormy gray eyes seem to turn brighter with a bit of defiance. “After all—Ares is a warrior, not a warmonger. There’s a difference.”
“I fell for him almost instantly,” she admits. “There he was…this towering, overbearing brute who looked so damn good in black leather.”
“There was an instant connection. As though Fate itself brought us together.” Her eyes close as she lets out a sigh of satisfaction to whisper, “Simply undeniable.”
There are those who would say loving the God of War is dangerous. Do you agree with them?
“Not if he loves you back, then Ares will do anything to make you happy and keep you safe. He’ll go to the ends of the earth for the people he loves and who accept and love him in return.”
“Not if he loves you back.”
“He’ll go to the ends of the earth for those he loves.”
Yet if there is one place where that power trembles, it is not in war, nor in Olympus——but in motherhood.
As Raven’s mother, what is the one thing you fear most for him?
“That he will never accept himself as he is,” she says sadly. “He will always seek approval from Zeus, Apollo… and of course, Ares.”
Her voice does not waver.
“My son is far more than just an Olympian. If Raven can’t accept that…he may be lost not just to me—but to himself.”
“Lost not just to me but…to himself.”
Do you believe Raven’s path is his own, or shaped by the forces surrounding him?
“It’s both,” she says, when asked if Raven’s path is his own.
“We are shaped by everything it took to get us here. All of our ancestors brought together by chance…or by choice.” She lets out an amused sigh and smiles. “The path we choose to walk is our own.”
If the world ever turned against your son, how far would you be willing to go to protect him?
For a long moment, Alena paused as if weighing her words very carefully before venturing, “If the world turned against my son…” she pauses. “I would go to the ends of the earth to protect him.”
Again she pauses as her eyes turn to him and in a quiet tone added, “Only if he is innocent.”
“Only if he is innocent.”
You’ve endured more than most would survive. What kept you going when giving up might have been easier?
“Why would giving up be easier? Why would that even be an option?” She asked in mild surprise as though giving up never even occurred to her. “My life has been full of tragedy, that’s true. I spent two hundred years running from Cernuous and his Druids. But in that time I watched history unfold, I witnessed the most amazing things. I helped people, I built schools. Why would I give up on that?
And if she could speak to the woman she once was—the one who first washed upon that shore—she would say;
“Do not be afraid. You’ve finally come home.”
Lisa Beth Darling 