#i saw phoibe and i could not

[chadsawman]

playing ac odyssey and being done with the main story and most of the dlc content I must say it is a whole special sort of grief to return to old places with kassandra. returning to her home from the dlc? pain. returning to her house on kephallonia or markos vineyard? agonizing. returning to sparta? tormenting. the adresteia is truly the only true home kassandra has.

[ghostlycircaea]

I thought I'd share the little snippet that didn't quite make it to the final draft, since it was a fun one to write. It takes place at the very end of chapter two of Children of the Mountain.

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Aikaterine was sitting in bed, propped up by a pile of pillows with her newborn in her arms when they entered. She smiled at them tiredly when she saw them come in. Kassandra ran to sit down on the edge of the bed. Alexios followed behind with far less urgency.

He had hoped to give Aikaterine a bit of space, despite their visit, but Kassandra had as much energy as always. He resolved to keep their visit brief, if only to spare her the stress of having a infant and a bouncy five year old around.

Kostas retreated to her other side, wrapping an arm around his wife's shoulders. Aikaterine shifted her arms around the infant so that Kassandra could see. The young girl leaned closer, with curious eyes focused on the bundle of blankets.

“A little girl, just like you were hoping for.”

“What’s her name?”

“Phoibe. After my mother.” Aikaterine hummed softly.  

“Are all babies that small? Pater, was I that small?” Kassandra turned to him with wide eyes.

“You were, once. Mater was always worried one of us would be too rough with you.” Alexios snorted. He and Stentor had been scolded more than once for carrying her around when they weren’t supposed to. Or rather, he had been carrying her around while Stentor followed half a step behind, worried about getting caught but thrilled to have been included.

“One of us?” Aikaterine asked, her eyebrows furrowed and confusion written on her face. Alexios realized his mistake almost immediately.

“Ah. My brother and I.” She frowned. Alexios glanced between her and Kostas awkwardly. He had never spoken more than a few words about their family to Aikaterine and Kostas in the years that they had lived on Kephallonia.   

“I…didn’t realize you had any more siblings.” Kostas said carefully.  

“We did. It was a long time ago. He’s...with our parents.” It wasn’t technically a lie, he supposed. He wasn’t about to tell them that he was very likely not dead, though. He would be a few years into the agoge by now, if Alexios had to guess.

[seroquelled]

11-8-23

- august invited over bo leach, bodhi nadalin, and some person that didnt have a name but looked like el hanley to play some orgy game, aug was acting kind of weird the whole time and ended up going to bed. the vibes were very off and nameless chick dipped but i talked to bo and bodhi for a while, was trying to figure out if they were together or not. ended up making out with bodhi (felt v nice) and afterward he said a bunch of stuff about how he was glad we saw each other again and that he lives close and wants to hang out again soon. we were still living w/ aj somehow and they had a bunch of random ppl over i remember thinking i was glad i could prove i had other friends by having different ppl over even if they werent really. they were leaving and the other ppl were partying in the living room area and someone ended up giving me a drink so i sat down and hung out a little. it was this really tasty thick deep red cherry-cranberry vodka thing with a ball of hollow ice that had a little hole you could drink more beverage out of it from.

- dk if this was a continuation of the last one or not but walking through the city w a group of girls, being sort of dressed up everyone had on very avant garde fashion (one of them was cheyenne from water st? i dont remember the rest) and we ended up going to this art gallery that was all hallways with various forks in the road. got separated from half the group because they were basically sprinting through and not looking at anything. everything felt like it was moving very fast. came to another fork but on one side was this exhibit area w raised padded flooring and people sitting all around and a sign that said 'puppy naptime.' and. well. it was puppy naptime. there were a bunch of them and phoibe and mama kitty (not bean) were there also sleeping very sweetly and i was worried i would get in trouble for bringing my cats to puppy naptime. i saw a different very small very sleepy black and white dappled kitten and pet her a little bit. was no longer worried bc obv i was not the only one who brought cat. noticed this girl who had a necklace with a bunch of moss and a live snail on it and talked to her abt it and she said it was her pet and he just liked to sleep there too.

- again not sure if at all related but walking through these very bright almost uncanny paved suburban streets w you and coming across a house where you started telling me a story abt how you used to hang out with some boy there and the mom was wack and you would work on some sort of project that required these sharps and one day you accidentally brought some out with you and they (the parents) noticed and yelled at you and you were like little and scared of getting in trouble so you like ran back crying and put them back and were apologizing and then couldnt go back and hang out again. watching this memory play out in the driveway like a phantom in front of us. in present time next to the car in the foliage there were a bunch of varied types of blades and you said something along the lines of 'they feel awesome, btw' and there was one in particular i really wanted to take but we noticed that the people from the house were actually sitting in the car. left and walked the other way around the block to see if theyd leave, just sort of eavesdropped on them from around the corner. along the way there were various blades on the ground and in the little grass strips in front of driveways and i kept picking them up trying to see if they were sharp or new but they all were really flimsy or dull or covered in a weird waxy substances. you said something like 'my skin is thinner so you should just cut me instead' and it made me upset but i wasnt trying to show it and i said some upsetting shit i dont remember and you were like 'jesus christ, what the fuck' and got v distant didnt leave but sort of like hung back and did smth else. heard some sort of commotion from the people and saw the guy yelling at this fluffy, scrawny cat being like 'i hate that fuckin cat' and it ran over to us and i pet him and he was v malnourished and had fleas and scrapes and i felt v sad for him

- Really dont remember this one but some girl inviting us to go rock climbing and it was just this tiny room that was not even very tall and she was actively putting the rock wall together by just. nailing the holds into drywall in no particular order. no gear, no ropes. i was pissed. i remember yelling at her but i dont remember what i said

[alkibiadessuperfan]

ok I will join with alexios opinions because yeah he is a fun character to discuss and everyone experiences the game so differently: in my first playthrough I was pretty set on saving the entire family because I thought I could not handle the „bad ending“

aside from that there were moments where the game quite literally felt like it intended to make scenes are turning point for kassandra‘s convictions. those I can think of are indeed the scene where alexios kills perikles and also the battle of amphipolis.

the first because athens, the city we saw so majestically is being plagued, perikles father of democracy is killed by KASSANDRAS OWN BROTHER, and of course extremely important: phoibe.

the second idk if anyone felt the same but in my play through that was the one point where I really gave into one of the cruel decisions kassandra can make and drowned kleon that puddle because it felt like all the anger all the frustration all the disgust is bottling up in kassandra and about to explode also with alexios killing brasidas.

personally: I think it depends entirely on how you want to play the game of course. Alexios is a brainwashed child basically but now he is a murdering, weapon-turned, cruel adult man with a god complex terrorizing the greek world.

Family means a lot to Kassandra during this time. Wether it‘s her blood related family in a way or Phoibe. Otherwise there wouldn‘t be the entire Odyssey. It shows in her dedication to finding her mother.

I am not entirely sure right now if there is an ending scene where Kassandra kills Alexios and Myrinne is alive. I am not entirely sure which ending is „canon“ though I imagine it is that all of her family is dead or exiled because there is absolutely nothing of them after all.

In the novel which I am currently still reading (I am taking forever) Kassandra very often talks about feelings in her heart being repressed by her spartan upbringing especially whenever there is a scene with Phoibe. She feels responsible for Phoibe, she‘s like a mother figure for Phoibe and in the beginning keeps her distance but when her and Phoibe reunite in Athens there is a scene before Phoibe‘s death where they play hide and seek in Perikles house, eat food and fall asleep in a guest bed Aspasia offered them. Phoibe thanks Kassandra for the day and says how she wants to always be with Kassandra and then says she loves Kassandra. This once again is one of the scenes where Kassandra blocks herself and wishes to say she loves Phoibe too but just can‘t. The next day is the scene where she finds Phoibe dead.

Up to that point whenever danger is near Kassandra‘s first thought is making sure Phoibe is alive and okay. So yeah I think Phoibe and also Barnabas are the only characters that are truly like family for Kassandra.

This adds up to the moment you said that makes the moment even more impactful and even worse when Kassandra sees Alexios killing Perikles. Alexios is on thin ice the entire time but in my opinion a few scenes like these challenge the player to not stay „kind“ but to realise that actually Alexios is more dangerous and threatening than him theoretically being your brother „makes up for“. Challenging Kassandra‘s views on family, her own/her mothers wishes and what might be best regarding the entire corruption and war. Her family finds themselves in the eye of the storm. Most of them somewhat prepared or involved but Kassandra is pushed into it after a life entirely in exile.

ok this is a random thought about AC Odyssey but a while back I said on stream that I intend on killing Alexios bc of his 👹major crimes against humanity👹

and apparently that's quite an unpopular opinion??? but hear me out. just bc he's blood related to Kassandra doesn't actually mean shit. I have cut off so many family members irl for being horrible people and so I don't think Kassandra would want Alexios to run around murdering people left right and center *just because* they share some dna. and I also don't think that fact is enough for her to believe that he can magically turn good either.

in my brain it's the moment she sees Alexios kill Perikles that it clicks for her that he's so much worse and evil than she realised, so to me it makes sense for her to kill him lol

[kassandras-one-braincell]

it’s been 2 years since I first played odyssey and I wish I could play it for the first time everyday, I was so unbelievably in awe of kassandra😭

She's such a unique protagonist in her personality! She's cocky, a little bit of an asshole on occasion, charming and has a nurturing streak (as we saw with Phoibe). Odyssey definitely invoked some very real emotions and yeah what we wouldn't give to experience that all over 😭

Just the first cutscene on the roof in Kephalonia where she's humming, and you realise "oh she's very pretty" and then she immediately shows the thugs she isn't one to be fucked with... Who wasn't flustered, let's be honest. And she matures so much as the game progresses while still retaining her cheeky streak 🥰

Years later we still love her.

[aquila-v]

Legacy

Year 2389 AD

Wonder Woman paced the room. Five hours waiting on this cursed medical outpost orbiting new earth. She felt helpless.

"If my love is not getting the best medical attention, I will rain down hell on this moon."

She breathed deeply. Remembering the countless times she and Kassandra had fought in battle. Her invinsible Misthios, her best friend, her love. She desperately wanted to help.

"Your highness, it is done! Your wife and child are both well!" The nurse bound into the room, almost falling over his feet to deliver his message.

"Finally!" roared the Amazon, reaching for a huge basket of chocolates and flowers, before striding forward towards the delivery room, doing her best to hide her nerves.

Then she saw them. The woman of her dreams. Her soul mate. Holding their tiny produce in her arms. Tiny blue eyes staring up into large beautiful amber ones. She dropped the basket to the side, frozen still, paralysed by love.

"Her grip is strong," grinned Kassandra. "She must take after me."

"She's so beautiful!" Diana started to tear up. "You're so beautiful! Look at this miracle you have created."

Kassandra laughed. "We created." She could see Diana's awkward stance, uncharacteristically petrified. "Come over here, dumbass. Meet your daughter."

Diana swallowed, teetered forward, and knelt by the bed, placing one hand on the shoulder of her wife, and the other on her new born.

"I will protect you with my life, little Phoibe," whispered Diana.

"We both will." Kassandra tapped the baby's nose, to the sound of a happy gurgle. "Cute little demi-goddess, aren't you? Daughter of the mighty Wonder Woman and legendary Eagle Bearer. You will be our greatest legacy."

@orphiceonian

[shadxwcd]

@annxlsofhistory requested a starter from PHOIBE for HYTHAM!

Phoibe returned from a day of learning with Petra how to scavenge and set snares. She brought her own caught rabbits with her that Hytham could have to cook! Or at least show him.

Then she paused at the door as she saw him making a small bed on the floor of his home with the blanket and pillow she had woken up with this morning.

“Have you got a visitor coming? Is your mentor returning?” She asked him, absently swinging the snared rabbits in her grasp. Phoibe, in the back of her mind, was thinking of another place she could sleep. She had chosen to sleep here with Hytham because he had shown her his fighting skills. Even with his injury, her subconscious trusted him to keep her safe. Her nightmares reduced around him.

The longhouse was still an option. Eivor had always told her that it would be and she had her own little corner. She felt very welcome in this settlement and she had no doubts that she wasn’t being a burden sleeping in there.

Remembering then what she was holding, she held out the rabbits and smiled. “I trapped these today. You can have them.”

[ofspvrta]

Any time Kassandra got to sit down to a real meal was a good meal for her. Since she was forced to flee Sparta, she often found it difficult to manage to have the kind of food that she needed, Markos provided, but it wasn't quite what she got at home, and once she was an adult and on her own, the meals were more scarce, often forgoing her own food so Phoibe and Ikaros could eat.

Those days felt long gone lately, she had enough to feed herself, and she moved around enough to hunt enough game. And then there were moments like this, a meal with a friend, food offered as a token of appreciation. A few years ago, Kassandra would never have thought any of this would happen.

"Tell him it is fantastic," she said, scooping up another bite.

It was funny how something so basic as food could cause such emotions. She remembered before everything went to shit when her mater used to roast lamb and goat and pater would joke that since Kassandra was also a lamb they would have to eat her too. More simple times before the cult got involved and turned her own pater against her out of a sense of honor. A frown crossed her face as she stared at the food for a moment, lost in memories of the times before.

It was only when she glanced up that she saw Fenyx also seeming to grapple with some emotions, but she wasn't great at comforting people, she tried but it often came off as awkward. The young woman seemed to push it down on her own and Kassandra just ate another olive while keeping an eye on her in case it happened again.

"My mater... she used to roast lamb and goat for us. When I am traveling I try to hunt them down so I can have some on my own but mater always made it best."

Fenyx laughed lightly about the comment of Ikaros eyeing Kassandra for food. It was natural for animals to like food, but there was just something special about Ikaros. He seemed so much like a little person. Or maybe it was mean to think that. She didn't know much about birds!

She had been eagerly watching Kassandra eat, waiting for her to try her family's preserve - giving a proud beaming grin when it was praised. Mother might have been the one to heat the mixture and jar it, and father was the one to grow and tend to the apricots, and she only helped pick then as Ligyron would sometimes be home to carry crates, but that was her family and it meant everything to her. A little piece of praise for the family farm was now coming from someone as from as far away as Sparta! She could picture the giddy look on papa's face if she told him.

"Oh I'm so glad you like it! Papa will be so pleased when I write to him about it!"

Now she left the olives to grab a piece and get a little for herself, just dipping the bread in to coat it.

Despite all her thoughts of her family before, it was actually eating the preserve that had a sense of nostalgia and longing smack her in the face. It brought back so many memories of eating it at the small family table, with Ligyron telling his tales and papa making up funny characters with influence from Fenyx and mama. Of getting caught dipping her young fingers into a pot that mama had only just sealed. It tasted of a home that was now very far away and of people she missed so much, despite her faith that she was on the right path.

Fenyx swallowed her bite and suddenly was fighting back tears, which she hasted to hide from her friend. She was a warrior now and warriors didn't cry, only crying in sheer exertion or thrill of victory - so her brother said. She just took the lid of the pot that had once sat at home and turned it over in her grasp, silly enough to feel attachment to it because of that. Even though it was just a pot of jam.

To distract herself, she looked over at the olives and took another, forcing herself to eat it and wash the taste away with some water.

"Do you have a favourite food from your home? Or from your travels?"

[prettyvampiress96]

trackers hearts desire part 4

Leaving hand in hand with Gianna ,Phoibe couldn't help but keep glancing back behind her wondering just who he overly affectionate man was and why? Why did those three people turn their heads and look at her like she had three heads and six arms at the mention of her name? Tonight she would ask Gianna all her questions but for now she would allow her best friend to celebrate her birthday as planned . As time got on Phoibe had a pain in her chest that kept making itself known for an unbeknownst reason to her .

Both girls sat at their table in the restaurant when Gianna spoke. "So Phoibs did you get to see the Marcus day festival or was it more of shop til you drop situation" Gianna chuckled musically. " I did it was splendid , shame its only once a year but thats what makes it more special I guess" Phoibe replied with a shrug. glancing at her menu, Phoibe settled for ordering a spaghetti carbonara with a lemonade whilst Gianna ordered a vegetarian lasagne with a glass of white wine . Phoibe subconsciously kept clutching at her chest every time the pain made its way to the surface ,being a trained nurse Phoibe knew this was not a heart attack or a sign of a stroke , so putting it off her mind the best she could to enjoy her meal with her friend. little did both women know that just outside the restaurant from outside the window, across the street in a dark lane two dark figures were watching.

Meanwhile back inside the restaurant Gianna and Phoibe were coming to the end of their meal and had ordered dessert. " so lets discuss our options for tonight and for the weekend , I say with your parents away we have a proper girls weekend you spas , makeovers , shopping the whole whack but tonight how about dancing at a club and back to mine "Gianna suggested glancing hopefully at her friend before frowning slightly. "Actually Gi I'm not feeling to great could we watch a movie or something at yours and go dancing another night , if you want to go I dont mind my parents didnt go in the end . They'd understand " Phoibe mumbled feeling guilty but there was no way she could dance and have a good time if she could barely enjoy herself now. Gianna brushed her hand in mid air as if dismissing Phoibe's statement. "of course I dont mind are you sure your alright Phoib I thought you seemed a bit off come on lets go get into something more comfy" exclaimed Gianna . Both women paid the bill and left unaware of what was to come .

Upon arriving at Gianna's own apartment the two friends got settled in Gianna's bed with their sleep wear on . hoibe was putting the DVD on when Gianna came back into the room holding two glasses of water and some painkillers for her friend. both girls had decided on 27 dresses. Jumping under the blanket Phoibe couldn't help but apologise to Gianna for in her words ruining the night but Gianna assured her that it wasn't ruined and the Phoibe just owed her a night dancing when she was up to it. Before Phoibe could get around to asking her questions she drifted off into a peaceful sleep where the handsome face of Demetri plagued her dreams once again. When Phoibe woke in the morning she found a note on Gianna's pillow.

Phoibe,

I'm so sorry ive been called into work on an emergency and theres no idea yet when I get off but ill do my best to make it as soon as possible. I promise I will make it up to you

Gianna

With a sigh Phoibe decided she would go home to her parents and see if they wanted to get breakfast and do something until Gianna could return. Phoibe quickly sent a text to Gianna to tell her what she was up to. Phoibe got dressed and made Gianna's bed before leaving to go home. After all manners cost nothing . Phoibe arrived at her front door with her keys to find it was already unlocked, humming to herself Phoibe opened the door and dumped her bag by the front door closing it behind her. Turning into the kitchen nobody was there. " Mom Dad are you home?" she shouted. Phoibe ran towards the stairs only to slip on something wet , raising her wet hand to her eyeline, Phoibe scrambled to her feet . Blood . Phoibe looked around the room and for the first time she noticed the complete war zone. Flower vases knocked over , coffee table in pieces and family photos all with the family members heads torn off all besides Phoibe's that is. It was then she saw it . The bodies of her mother and father.

Phoibe rushed to their sides panicking and distraught on what to do . Her medical training kicking in she checked pulses. her mothers was gone but her fathers was faint. In an attempt to do all she could to save her dad she applied pressure to his very much open wound on his neck and attempted cpr . Phoibe tried and tried but to no avail his pulse slowly stopped . Phoibe started to scream in agony , her parents were dead . it was like a scene from a horror movie both parents had their throats ripped out . Hearing screams passers by entered through the door and called the police and an ambulance service. Phoibe went upstairs to wash the blood off her hands, she couldn't bear the sight of her parents like that. Phoibe looked at herself in the mirror and couldn't help but wonder if she had been there last night would they be alive now or would she be dead also. Phoibe went into her room to grab a sheet to cover her parents with . stopping when there was a note on her bed with a disc. without reading the note Phoibe stuck the DVD into her laptop and pressed play , soon wishing she hadn't as there on the disc was the entire murder of her parents. She had never seen their faces before but red eyes. Gianna's co workers had red eyes. unable to watch the act be committed , Phoibe opened the note it read :

youngest Phoibe

we have yet to meet in person , your parents refused to give us your whereabouts and as a result this had to happen and the volturi cannot have you added to their clan of imbeciles . this whole situation could have been avoided if your little volturi pet Gianna hadn't invited you into their precious castle. You see sweet angel , theres many things Gianna has not told you starting with the volturi.

we will see you in the very near future .

we shall be watching.

Stefan and Vladimir

[mecomptane]

MQ: Barnabas of the Adrestia

Part one of... many. So many. Oh no.

Also, my italics for Greek and/or emphasis no longer exist, so that’s great. 10/10. Might try uploading to dreamwidth first from now on, and then copying/linking in to here.

-

“Kephallonia is… here?”

Barnabas leaned over from the wheel, turning so that his good eye focused on where Kassandra was pointing. “Hm? Aye, that’s Kephallonia--and just to the north, there, that’s Ithaka!”

“I know Ithaka,” Kassandra retorted, toeing the island painted on the deck of the Adrestia idly. “I’ve looked at it almost every day.”

The real Ithaka--and Kephallonia--were well behind them, bare specks on the horizon. She’d spent the first few hours since departing sitting on the stern bench, watching over her shoulder as the land she’d spent the last twenty plus years on slipped away. They weren’t home, not really: not Ithaka where she’d honed her hunting skills, and not even Kephallonia, though all the friends left to her in the world lived there.

But a job was a job, and between the plague slowly spreading over the islands and the sudden hush of contracts that came in the wake of facing off against the only other mercenary on the island in spectacularly violent--and public--fashion, there wasn’t much work or coin coming her way any time soon. Kassandra sighed and scuffed her toe against the painted map again, slowly cataloguing the different lands and waters, so carefully rendered. So many places to see, so many people to meet, armies to fight… and somehow, with all those people and across all those lands, Elpeanor managed to find her. Decided to hire her.

To kill the Wolf of Sparta.

Nikolaos hadn’t been a young man when Kassandra was growing up, a General of Sparta and one of the greatest warriors the city had seen since the death of King Leonidas. He’d gained fame within Sparta for his tactics and skillful maneuvering, and renown through the rest of the Peloponnese for his treatment of enemies and allies alike. Not merciful--he was Spartan, after all--but a certain amount of respect. Other generals might take prisoners as slaves; Nikolaos was more likely to ransom them back to their cities or, if seriously injured, grant them an honourable death.

“It’s so isolated,” Kassandra remarked, still staring at the map. “But I can see the coast of the Peloponnese from my house.” House, shack, hut. It was newly built a hundred years ago and left to ruin sometime after; she’d claimed it and fixed it up, but it wasn’t any sort of luxurious.

Barnabas laughed at her, gesturing to the map as he turned back to the helm. “You can? You must have the sight of the gods, then!”

“Or maybe I just have two working eyes,” she snarked back. Sight of the gods, right.

But Barnabas laughed again; did nothing upset this man? “Or perhaps four eyes; I see you talking with that eagle of yours!”

The eagle in question--proud, defiant, and a mother hen in turns--was perched on the wooden screen that shielded part of the stern bench, alternating between watching the sea and watching Kassandra and Barnabas. Kassandra clicked her tongue to get his attention; Ikaros shrilled at her, fluffed his feathers, and turned back to the sea.

She sighed at him; her oldest friend was an eagle. A stubborn eagle, at that. “The only thing we talk about is him taking off to hunt and me scolding him when he shows up just in time to annoy me.”

Kassandra looked up just in time to see Barnabas shaking his head, his whole body shuddering. “Hey! Are you laughing at me?”

“You talk about your Ikaros like my old friend talks about his wife.”

She snorted. “You live with someone long enough, I suppose it all starts to sound the same.”

One of the skeleton crew below called out for Barnabas and instructions; as the old captain saw to his people and ship, Kassandra lounged back against the bench, tilting her head towards the sun.

They were heading for Megaris, which Barnabas assured her was the current major battleground in the war between Athens and Sparta. Elpeanor had said that Nikolaos would be there, but she trusted the old seaman over some shady mainlander who let his guards get killed as a test to see her skills. Or however he reasoned it; she didn’t want to ask, because that meant interacting with him more. Whether he was hiding out on Kephallonia to avoid Nikolaos and the bounty he’d put on the Wolf’s head was Elpeanor’s way of avoiding some consequence, or if he was on Kephallonia for another reason and wanting Nikolaos killed was incidental, she didn’t know that, either.

Kassandra shifted, pulling out the old broken spear her mater had given her, so long ago. She’d never taken a bounty contract before--the closest was hunting down a handful of local thieves (who were a drachmae a dozen on Kephallonia; the island wasn’t entirely made up of criminals, but it was probably a fifty-fifty split between law abiding citizens and those who just did not care). The contract to kill Nikolaos was more an excuse to get off the island that’d been her home since she was eight, see more of the world, make a name for herself. That didn’t mean she didn’t intend to uphold her end, and to do that… sword, short sword, spear, bow and arrows would all work, but using the broken spear wouldn’t just be effective. It would be poetic justice.

The man who married Leonidas’ daughter, killed by Leonidas’ own broken spear. One of the kings had sent Spartans to recover the spear from Thermopylae at the same time as they recovered Leonidas’ body for a burial with honours, and it had been given to Myrrine after the internment. Or, knowing the woman, she had demanded the last relic of her father to be handed over immediately, and everyone who stood in her way suffered for it.

Kassandra ran a finger down the edge of the spear’s blade, testing the sharpness and checking for rust. None, as normal. As much as she liked to think it was all the maintenance and care she paid to the old weapon, the metal shone in a way that she’d never seen before and no matter what she stabbed or threw the spear into the edge never dulled. Good for a quick kill, then, and that’s what this would have to be: a quick kill. Stealthy, maybe. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that between Nikolaus’ skills and the Spartan army, there was only one way she could really hope to complete the contract: a proper assassination.

“What are you frowning about, o mighty misthios?” Barnabas’ voice broke her from her thoughts.

She startled upwards, coming to her feet and not-so-accidentally treading on the painted islands in the process. “Barnabas! Don’t startle me like that.”

“Eh, I know you wouldn’t hurt this poor old, one-eyed man,” he shrugged off her annoyance. “I need to go below; do you know how to handle a ship?”

That brought her up short. “Do I know how to… what?”

He waved her forward to the helm. “Come, come, let me teach you quickly. We have another day of sailing before we make it to Megaris, more than enough time for lessons!”

She reached out to grab the old wood, worn smooth by many hands over the years. “What am I--what do you want me to do?”

“Keep her on the same heading, there--no, no, sun just slightly behind and to the right, we want to head east-south-east,” he instructed. “There we go! See? I knew you’d be a natural!”

Kassandra flexed her fingers, checking her grip. “And I just… stand here?”

“Exactly! Any questions?”

“Yes: why are you trusting me with this?”

He laughed and patted her shoulder. Flinched slightly away when his hand contacted the hard lines of metal and buckles that were hidden by the Shroud of Penelope Kassandra had wrapped around her shoulders and head. “Well, obviously you have sailed before! How else would you get from the mainland to Kephallonia?”

She tried not to stiffen or show another reaction, but from the corner of her eye she could see Barnabas looking at her worriedly. “Me? From the mainland?”

“From the Peloponnese, somewhere, probably,” Barnabas confirmed, would-be casually. “You sail as long as I have to as many places as I have, and you can pick out details like that, too. A bit of an accent, and a way of framing your sentences that sounds more like Lakonian or Messenian, maybe Arkadian. But most of the time you sound Kephallonian! If that’s why you’re worried, the accent of your latest home comes through clearly.”

She shook her head at him. “Kephallonia isn’t my home.”

“Even after… however long you’ve lived there?”

“No,” Kassandra confirmed. Even with Marcos and Phoibe and the few other people who were almost friends, almost family. “No, not Kephallonia.”

Barnabas hummed, apparently having forgotten being called away. “Then… wherever you were from before? Is that your home?”

She couldn’t help herself; she snorted. In her mind’s eye she could easily picture the spear, Myrrine, Nikolaos, the masked men, baby Alexios, the mountain. “I might have been born in Sparta, but I was never really Spartan.”

“Spartan?” Barnabas asked, surprise lacing his words. “And you’re looking for the Wolf of Sparta?”

Kassandra nodded; Barnabas had said he took no side in this war, even having been an Athenian captain, once upon a time. Still, Kephallonia supported Athens, and so far most of public opinion--that Kassandra had heard, anyway--swayed in favour of Athens, too. It would make sense for her to be after a Spartan General if she had been from Athens or somewhere that was firmly part of or on the side of the Delian League. She could see why Barnabas would be surprised.

“I am,” she confirmed, her lips curling upwards. Not a smile, not a sneer; she wasn’t sure what she was feeling about this, but it wasn’t anything good. “I’m going to track Nikolaos down, and before I kill him I am going to get some answers.”

“Answers?” Barnabas parroted.

She nodded, shortly. “Answers. When I was eight, the oracle said that my baby brother--who was in perfect health--would bring about the fall of Sparta if he was allowed to live. Mater fought against the order, but we were all brought up Mount Taygetos and---and Alexios was thrown off the mountain cliff.”

Barnabas hadn’t completely retracted his hand before from her shoulder; he rested it again against the shroud, patting gently. “That must have been difficult to witness, Kassandra. I am sorry. ...but what does that have to do with the Wolf?”

“He was there,” she answered after a minute. She had to refocus; Barnabas had actually sounded sincere. When was the last time someone had actually meant what they said to her? “He was there, he let them kill Alexios… and when I fought back, pushed the priest who had thrown Alexios off and killed him…. Nikolaos threw me off Mount Taygetos, too.”

She could feel Barnabas withdrawing, air abruptly sucked through clenched teeth. “And you survived?”

“I did,” she nodded. “That’s the night that Ikaros found me.”

“So you’ve known him for a long, long time,” Barnabas surmised, looking up at the eagle. Ikaros’ attention was focused wholly on them; she’d noticed the minute he’d zeroed in on them, but the predatory gaze had long been comforting. “But you know what happened then. What answers are you looking for?”

Kassandra shrugged, careful to not jostle her hands and change their heading. “Just one answer, I guess,” she conceded. “I want to ask him… I want to know why, when the priests said that Alexios would bring us to ruin, when they told him to kill me in return for the life of one of their own…

“I want to know why he sided with them over his own children.”

[stormyblue90]

Blessed by the Gods

A little oneshot featuring Kassandra and Brasidas and the birth of their first child

Tagging some Kassidas fans: @j3nnt @cafekat91 @frolickingangels @crimsonsun1030 @cogitoire @alethiometry

Warning: Childbirth mention. I know some people are uncomfortable with that sooo...

Otherwise, pure fluff. Also PHOIBE LIVES AU! May write another oneshot to tie into this...not sure yet...

Anxiety filled Brasidas' heart and mind as he paced, it only continued to grow since dawn. He and Kassandra had been expecting their first child and she'd gone into labor just before the first rays of Helios crept over the horizon. Quickly shrugging on a chiton he raced out of the house to wake the midwife and Myrrine.

Once they arrived at his home the old crone of a midwife immediately pushed him out as he tried to head inside. Told him to wait like all the other expectant fathers saying "men had no place" in such a situation. Brasidas tried to convince her, but the woman wouldn't have it. She had a stubbornness to rival most hardened Spartan warriors. Seeing this was a battle he unfortunately could not win, he was forced to stay outside and instead left to make offerings and pray to both Artemis and Hera for a safe delivery and healthy child. Afterwards heading to the training grounds to help train the young Spartan boys there, anything to keep his worries at bay.

However the distractions could only work so long, and other instructors took over, seeing how distracted he was. Brasidas desperately wanted to be by his wife's side in such a trying time. Hours had gone by and it was nearly midday. Kassandra's water had yet to break when he brought back the midwife and her mother, so he wasn't sure how long she would have to suffer.

"Worried about your wife and child?" an old voice said, bringing his anxious mind back to the present.

An elderly man, greatly resembling Brasidas with silvery hair walked over, accompanied by Kassandra's father, Nikolaos.

"Pater? Yes, no matter what I do I can't seem to shake off such thoughts." Brasidas answered. "I've made offerings to both Hera and Artemis that everything goes smoothly, and keep muttering prayers to them."

"Ah I was the same that snowy evening you were born as well." the man, Tellis replied.

"I believe I remember, you couldn't sit still and you were so impatient to return home and made several offerings." Nikolaos added. "Sadly I was away from Sparta the day Kassandra was born, but thankfully I was here for Alexios."

"And you were even worse than I was!" Tellis replied. "Do not worry my son, Kassandra is strong, as will your child be I'm sure of it."

Brasidas nodded, he knew Kassandra was exceptionally strong and undoubtedly so would their child, carrying on the powerful bloodline of Leonidas; however it still didn't quell his fears.

"I only wish I could be at her side. However the midwife wouldn't have it, said it was no place for a man."

"Ah yes, that sounds familiar. Short with pale green eyes?" Tellis asked.

"Y-yes, how did you-"

"Because I remember her. Doris was a young assistant to the midwife who brought YOU into the world. Said the same thing to me. Stubborn then, and more so now."

"That would explain her comment about 'helping bring me into the world so she could just as easily send me to Hades' as she shoved me out of the doorway."

The two older men shared a laugh at that. In truth were anxiously waiting as well, both about to become grandfathers, but still not as worried as Brasidas.

"Phoibe!" Myrrine called out, standing by her now exhausted daughter.

The young girl from Kephallonia, now a teenager and adopted by Myrrine, ran into the room. "Yes? Is it over? Am I an aunt now? Is it a boy or a girl?" she questioned excitedly.

"Yes yes it's over, now quickly go, find Brasidas, tell him everyone's fine and he can return."

Phoibe nodded, and glanced at the midwife and her assistants, busy cleaning, caring for Kassandra, and swaddling the newborns. Quickly she took off to find the general.

She sprinted down the streets of Sparta, Ikaros flying overhead. Phoibe had a few ideas where he might be and she already checked some, her next destination was the training grounds. She did however stop briefly on the way to confirm if any had seen him, and they did say they saw him head that direction.

Once she arrived she asked the soldiers if Brasidas was there and that she had an urgent message for him. Sure enough he was there and Phoibe ran towards the place he was said to be, ignoring the young boys who either called out to her or began to show off. Phoibe only rolled her eyes and their obnoxious displays. How many times did she have to tell them, she wasn't interested in boys; instead it was a few Spartan girls who caught her eye.

Finally she found him, speaking with Nikolaos and who she assumed was Brasidas' own father, judging by their close resemblance.

"B-Brasidas!" she called out, trying to catch her breath as she stopped, leaning over with her hands on her knees.

"Phoibe! Is everything alright? Kassandra! The baby, are they-"

Phoibe stood up and nodded, a huge smile on her face. "Yes! She's fine. They're ALL fine. You can come back now!"

All? Brasidas' eyes widened as he realized what she meant. Tellis and Nikolaos looking to each other, small knowing smirks on their faces.

"Better hurry back home then." Tellis told him as Brasidas glanced towards him, as if wanting confirmation he heard Phoibe right.

Immediately he ran back home, nearly stumbling either on his own feet or from other people in the streets. The crisp autumn air rushing across his skin. No matter how fast he ran he just couldn't return home fast enough. His mind racing with so many thoughts, even more than before now.

Finally, finally he made it back home. The midwife, Doris, who had shooed him out of his own house earlier stood at the doorway. She tossed a damp towel to him, hitting him in the face with it.

"Clean yourself up first young man!" she commanded, clicking her tongue, "You're covered in dirt and sweat and I will not have anyone so filthy hold a newborn!"

Begrudgingly he did as the old crone asked, wiping off the sweat and dirt that covered him. He already knew not to argue with this woman. Once she seemed satisfied, she nodded in approval and let him inside.

"She's been moved back into the bedroom." she said.

Brasidas quickly made his way to their room, heart still pounding from both his run and nervousness. He saw Kassandra, the most exhausted he'd ever seen her, hair disheveled and dark circles rimmed her eyes from a lack of sleep. She was laying in bed, propped up by several pillows, a wrapped white bundle in her arms, cooing softly. Myrrine was by her side, but back turned to him. It looked as if she was holding something as well.

Brasidas let out a nervous breath he didn't realize he had been holding. Myrrine quickly turned to face him and she and Kassandra both looked towards him, huge smiles on their faces. It was then his suspicions were confirmed.

His eyebrows rose and his eyes widened when he saw Myrrine hold a second bundle, this one wrapped in a red blanket. A second baby, twins! He and Kassandra had twins!

"Brasidas!" Kassandra called out, her voice so tired but so joyful as well. "Twins! Can you believe it?"

He walked over feeling as is if his smile reached from ear to ear.

"Time to meet your Pater little lamb!" Myrrine said to newborn in her arms as she stood up, gently handing the red bundle to him, making sure he supported them properly.

"Meet your daughter. Kassandra holds your son." she told him.

"Chaire little one." He whispered, gently stroking the newborn's face. "Pater's here."

Brasidas felt tears of joy prick his eyes as he held his daughter and sat next to his wife on the bed. Not just twins, but both a daughter and son, he hadn't felt so blessed since Kassandra agreed to marry him.

"Now I know why it felt like they were training for the Olympics whenever they kicked. And why everyone said I was bigger than other pregnant mothers..." Kassandra said.

Brasidas laughed softly, "Yes, carrying twins certainly explains everything. I still can't believe it."

"Neither can I." Kassandra replied. "It still feels like a dream and I'll wake up back on Kephallonia.

It was still too soon to tell who the babies looked more like, him or Kassandra. Only time would tell, but it didn't matter who they resembled, he was just happy both were strong and healthy. For now the twins looked identical, pink, and soft. Though it did appear both shared his eye color since their eyes appeared too light to have Kassandra's rich, dark brown.

Brasidas lifted the swaddled newborn, giving her a soft kiss on top of her head, already covered in thick wisps of dark hair, as was her brother's. She wiggled, reaching one arm out of the blanket. It was then he noticed something peculiar.

On the inside of her upper arm, looked to be a birthmark. As he looked closer, he noticed it resembled an eagle in shape. Fitting given Kassandra's famous title.

"Kassandra, look there." He said, gesturing to the mark.

"It... looks like an eagle." She commented. "The Fates clearly have a sense of humor."

"Or she takes after her grandmother." Myrrine added, she too had been born with birthmarks on her arm resembling the stars of Aquila.

"She's not the only one." Kassandra replied as she shifted the blanket around the baby in her arms, revealing the back of his left shoulder.

The little boy also had markings, but instead of an eagle, the marks seemed to make up the constellation of Leo.

"The lion constellation." Brasidas said. "It seems the Fates DO have a sense of humor. Perhaps it's a sign we should name him after your grandfather."

Kassandra laughed as she wrapped her son back up. "Perhaps you're right." Gently she placed a kiss on his head. "Leonidas."

"And our daughter? Like you she seems to bear the eagle of Zeus. he asked.

Kassandra thought for a moment, "Hmm... Perhaps... Zenais?" she offered. "It appears we have been blessed by the Gods."

"Zenais." Brasidas repeated, mulling over the possible choice for a moment, before smiling and nodding. "Alright, Zenais and Leonidas." He leaned over, kissing Kassandra's temple, whispering "I love you, ALL of you."

[ofmisthios]

@shadxwcd​  / phoibe ♥’d !

It was always a RELIEF to come back to Athens and to see that Phoibe was still safe. A lot happened for Kassandra since she had started to find the members of the Cult of Kosmos and to find her family. Sometimes, she wondered if she could really succeed, but when she came back around, her worries seemed to vanish; she just wanted to make sure Phoibe was safe. 

When she saw the little girl, she welcomed her with open arms and gently hugged her close to her. “I hope you had a good time.” She assured, a warm smile crossing her features. “Maybe it comes out of no where, but let me tell you one thing. When you’ll be older, if someone breaks your heart, I’ll kick their ass.” She said way too PROUDLY. Maybe Kassandra was thinking of her own love life, who had always been quite complicated. 

[author-morgan]

Kryptic ↟ Deimos

twenty-five- a taste of freedom

masterlist

But the great leveler, Death: not even the gods can defend a man, not even one they love, that day when fate takes hold and lays him out at last.

Death submits to no one, not even Dread and Destruction.

They are both weapons of flesh and bone, of warm blood and beating hearts, and they cannot be controlled.

THE ACHE IN her back does not dissipate with the rise of the morning sun. Lesya sits up and the weight across her chest slides down to rest across her thighs. A soft groan of protest leaves Deimos’ lips when she shifts again —stretching the broken skin on her back and arm. 

Matted locks of dark brown hair hide his face, but Lesya knows he is at ease. Sleep had always been one of the few times when the horrors of the world faded —especially if they were together. Lesya settles back down next to him and brushes aside the hair in front of his eyes. The stubble on his cheek tickles her lips when she presses them just beneath the scar under his eye. 

“You’re still here,” he mumbles —voice still rough with sleep— and she nods. Deimos had expected her to sail on the morning tide as she had in Korinth. He rolls onto his side, dark eyes following the curve of her lips. She’s radiant in the morning light, but he cannot stop himself from focusing on the scab at her temple and the linen dressings covering her middle. Deimos has yet to feel guilty regarding the lives he’d taken and destroyed, but seeing her like this because of him eats away at his heart. Lesya moves closer and trails her fingertips along his chest, around to the long scar on his side, and then the brand at the base of his ribs. “Lesya,” he breathes, catching her wrist when she starts to pull back. 

She can see the remorse in his tawny-gold eyes. “Don’t,” she utters, shaking her head, “I’ve had worse than this, you know that.” A clean-cut could not compare to when her back had been torn open or when they took her womb. It would heal with time. Her words aren’t enough to offer solace. “Alexios.” Deimos’ eyes dart up to meet her own at the whisper of his true name and he releases her wrist from the gentle cage of his rough fingers. Lesya leans toward him —can feel his warm breath against her lips and cheek— but rapping on the bedchamber door stays the both of them. 

One of Hermippos’ frightened slaves stands trembling on the other side, pointing toward the courtyard and the soldiers who demand to speak with Deimos. He nods, dismissing the messenger, and turns to collect his chiton from the floor. Lesya rises, finishing the last of the buttons on his left shoulder before picking her stained chiton and shrugging it on overhead —neither bother with armor, though when Deimos retrieves his sword, Lesya takes one of her daggers and follows behind him. 

Two guardians await in the courtyard, garbed in the dark steel armor of the Cult, though the masked helms are discarded. “Great champion,” one of the guardians says and both dip their head down in genuflection. These had been the cowards to escape his sister’s blade after killing a child in the Odeon of Perikles. Deimos’ stern gaze is enough to make them tremble, but it is the sight of Enyo that makes both of them step back. “Kleon–” one begins, carrying the new leader’s orders, but is cut off when Deimos seizes him by the throat. 

“She was a child!” Deimos shouts, tightening his fingers around the guardian’s throat before twisting —tossing him into the altar at the heart of the villa. “Does it bring you pride to have slaughtered a little girl?” Phoibe. Lesya had only briefly encountered the girl in Korinth, but Kassandra always spoke fondly about the orphaned girl on Kephallonia. She looks between Deimos the guardians, feeling her heart sink. She was never meant to die. 

The man twists, using the altar as leverage to stand again. “She was sniffing around at Anastasios’,” he defends —better to tie up loose ends rather than have them pop up again at inconvenient times.  

Deimos steps forward. “Only cowards kill children,” he hisses, thrusting the blade of the Damoklean sword through the guardian’s chest, punching through armor, flesh, and bone. Lazily, he pulls the sword back and glances over his shoulder —seeing Lesya move toward the second guardian, her dagger clasped tightly in her hand. The guardian crumples, blood leaking onto Hermippos’ white stone floor and the second cult guardian steps back, trembling. Deimos flicks the blood from his sword onto the stone and watches as Lesya closes in —jerking her arm in a tight slash. The guardian’s hands go to his throat to stifle the blood sluicing and gurgling out. He stands for only a few more unsteady moments before collapsing in a heap. Dike, let justice be done. 

WATER SLOSHES ONTO the smooth floor of the washroom. Deimos brushes the damp copper hair away from Lesya’s back and shifts in the stone bath, reaching for a linen rag to wash away the old ointment and what dried blood he had missed. Draping the rag over the side of the stub, Deimos seizes her waist, drawing her flush against his chest —a rough hand slips around to her stomach. Lesya hums softly, content and leans her head on his shoulder. He turns his head, lips ghosting over her temple. Moments like this are what they both had missed the most —moments to be vulnerable and tender, to be more than a weapon. 

“I need to find Kassandra,” Lesya mutters. I need to find my brother. The longer she remains with him the harder leaving will be, though —the more it will break her mending heart. But she had promised to help Kassandra find her mother and bring about the downfall of the Cult. She cannot do either from Athens, especially in the midst of a plague. 

“Lesya,” Deimos breathes, nuzzling her neck. “Stay,” he echoes what she had asked of him on Keos. One day. The Cult has no need of him for now. Perikles is dead and Kleon rules Athens —just as they wanted. For the first time since he had helped her escape, they could be with one another

She turns —water lapping at the tub’s smooth sides— and cups his face in her hands. “I can’t, Alexios.” It pains her to say it, but the timing isn’t right. One day we’ll be together. 

“I know,” he says, voice soft. “Where do you need to go?”

“Naxos,” she answers —thumb running across the scar on his cheek. “Come with me,” Lesya pleads, they could make this journey together. Deimos catches her wrist and pulls it to his lips, pressing a slow kiss to the center of her palm. She sighs when he leans forward, brushing his lips against hers. The sigh turns into a soft gasp when he rises from the tepid water —carrying her to the bedchamber.  

Deimos kneels behind her on the mattress, fingers following the deep scars on her back. He recalls the day it happened and the rage he’d felt finding her lying in a pool of bloody water in the Phokis’ villa. The scars are soon covered as he winds a fresh strip of linen around her middle. “We can leave now,” he tells her. Lesya nods, reaching for the indigo chiton laying before her —a replacement for her bloody and threadbare one. 

They move quietly through the streets —passing wains filled with the dead waiting to be carted outside of the city walls and small piles of bodies that have been set alight. Scores of Athenians have joined the ranks of the dead in a single night. The gods have forsaken Athens.  

As she and Deimos near the port, Lesya can feel her heart sink as she thinks of her brother. He’d been wroth, and aggrieved by the death of Kalanthe and learning his own sister had murdered their father. Lesya is certain the Ippalkimon would have departed to return to Keos, but she spots the gilded siren figurehead crowned with winter stars. Tundareos paces the deck —he’d done so since he returned to the ship at the edge of dark and saw the Adrestia departing without his sister. Kassandra told him she could not be found, and she could not tarry when her mother’s life was in danger. 

Deimos presses his hand against the curve of her back —she looks up at him, laurel eyes glassy with unshed tears. “Wait here,” Lesya tells him and he nods, watching as she moves up the gangplank nigh fading into the mist. Several of the deckhands pause their routines as she steps onto the trireme, a veil covers her head, but they know who the copper hair belongs to. Whispers sweep over the deck and Tryphena stops her captain, motioning toward Lesya. 

Tundareos turns on heel, marching towards his sister, and stops before her. Lesya lowers her gaze, unable to meet his as she murmurs his name. The silence seems to drag on for an eternity and the longer it lasts the further her heart sinks. Without saying anything, he surges forward and engulfs her in his arms. He had been scared of losing her too. “You’re okay,” he breathes —relieved— stepping back and resting both his hands on her shoulders, “I was so worried.” Tundareos frowns when he notices the linen bandage wrapped around her upper arm. “I’m sorry,” he chokes, the guilt in his gut coming back, “I should have never spoken to you like that. You’re my sister and I love you.”

Lesya smiles, covering one of his hands with her own. “There’s someone you need to meet,” she says, swallowing the lump in her throat. Tundareos nods, feeling that he already knows who it will be. Nigh everyone aboard the Ippalkimon trembles with fear upon Deimos’ arrival. Even pirates heard tales of the violent exploits of Deimos and Enyo —only fools would not fear a demigod. He stops behind Lesya, looking her brother in the eye. “Deimos,” her lips kink when she says his name, and Tundareos sees how they look at one another —fools in love, willing to do anything for each other, “this is my brother, Tundareos.” 

Her brother nods in greeting and Deimos reciprocates the gesture, never having been one for words. Tryphena calls Lesya over to discuss their heading as the Adrestia had left port in haste. Both Tundareos and Deimos take a moment to size one another up, they are roughly the same height, though Deimos is broader. Tundareos clasps onto his arm in camaraderie, but steps closer to the Cult’s champion —his friendly demeanor fading. “Demigod or not,” he hisses in a hushed voice, “if you hurt her, I will kill you.” Deimos says nothing, glancing to where Lesya stands, almost smiling and then Tundareos knows —he loves her. 

Guided by the light of the moon and stars, the Ippalkimon pulls away from port for Naxos. If the sea favors the voyage, it should take no longer than three days to reach the Kyklades. Deimos settles next to Lesya at the stern of the ship —neither of them had ever become accustomed to sailing— but the waves slowly rocking the ship isn’t unpleasant. She turns into him, draping her legs over his, and leans her head against his chest. Deimos locks his arms around her waist and sighs at the taste of freedom for them both. One day we’ll be more than weapons, we’ll be Lesya and Alexios, he thinks, hiding his smile in her cooper hair. 

@wallsarecrumbling @novastale @fjor-ok-skadi @fucking-dip-shit @elizabethroestone @maximalblaze

[semperintrepida]

A Feast for Solstice

Playing babysitter was the opposite of what Kassandra wanted to be doing on Solstice, and yet here Markos was, asking her to watch Phoibe while he ran off to do gods knew what. She looked at the little girl playing in the dust at their feet with rising irritation.

“Kassandra, please. I need to get that shipment from Kausos tonight or it’ll be both our heads.”

Why couldn’t it just be his head for once? She shook her head in defeat. “Fine.”

“I’ll make it up to you, friend, I will.”

She waved him off dismissively. All she wanted for Solstice was to get drunk and find someone beautiful to sleep with. The festival of the longest night brought all the women on the island out to celebrate the harvest and Dionysos, their voices lifting in song, their lithe bodies swaying with the drums… but she wouldn’t be there to enjoy it, not this year.

She sighed, then crouched down next to Phoibe. “Hey, you.”

The girl gave her a shy smile. “Hey, Kassandra.”

“Looks like it’s just you and me today.”

“Okay.” Phoibe poked at the dirt with the stick in her hand, then said warily, “What do you want to do?”

Already wary. Phoibe hadn’t even been on the island half a year. “Well, it’s Solstice,” Kassandra said, putting on a grin. “I’m sure we’ll come up with something.” She patted the girl’s shoulder and stood up. “Let’s see what we can find in Sami.”

Phoibe followed along behind her as they wandered through the market. Kassandra had scratched together a bit of drachmae, intending to use it for her wine fund at the festival. With the coins in her pouch, and the half a goat she had hanging back at home, they’d eat well tonight at least.

She stretched the drachmae far enough to turn it into a loaf of bread, some apples, a small flask of wine, even a pomegranate and a bit of honeycomb. And when they reached the other side of the market, where the road led away to Mount Ainos, she felt a tug at her belt and saw Phoibe offering up a nutcake.

“Where’d you get that?”

“I borrowed it.”

“You ‘borrowed’ it.” She stifled a grin, then glanced around, looking for any angry merchants. The road only held travelers headed to Sami for the festival.

“It’s wrong, I know.” Small shoulders slumped.

Kassandra shrugged. “The nutcake, maybe. But survival isn’t. A knack for borrowing might come in handy.”

When they reached the dilapidated house Kassandra called home, she sent Phoibe off to gather palm fronds while she set to digging a large pit away from the front stoop and next to a crumbling stone wall. If she was going to feast at home on Solstice, she’d do it right.

Phoibe set a large pile of fronds near the pit and watched Kassandra dig in rapt fascination. “Can I help?”

“Yeah, find me some rocks like this one.” She nudged a flat stone.

Once the pit was deep enough, they lined the bottom with the flat stones and Kassandra built a fire upon them. She wrapped the goat in the palm fronds as the fire burned down to embers, and then she covered the coals with a layer of sand before placing the meat on top of it and burying the whole thing under still more sand. She built one more fire on top of it all, and settled back against the wall to wait. It wasn’t long until sunset, and while the day had been warm, it would get cold in the dark.

Kassandra expected boredom to visit her then, but Phoibe began gathering sticks of various sizes and sticking them into the dirt, and she couldn’t help but watch as Phoibe played with them, reenacting battles between soldiers and pirates and heroes.

Eventually, Phoibe was surrounded by a fallen army of sticks. After surveying the scene, she grabbed two sticks in each hand, one smaller, and one larger. She shook the smaller stick at the larger, and said, “Gimmie all your money.”

The larger stick waved around. “No! It’s my money. I’m keeping it!” Phoibe had pitched her voice suspiciously lower.

“You’ll pay, girl.” Small stick hit the larger.

“Ouch! You hurt my hand!”

Phoibe shook the smaller stick again and gave an evil laugh.

She brought the larger stick close to the smaller. “I really don’t like you! Have a stab.” Then the larger stick clobbered the smaller one to the ground. “Now gimmie your money.”

Kassandra couldn’t hold back her laughter any longer. That wasn’t exactly how her encounter with the bandit had gone, but good enough for the theatre.

Phoibe dropped the sticks as if caught, but Kassandra began to clap in appreciation. “Come here.”

The girl settled in beside her.

“Did Markos tell you what happened?”

Phoibe nodded. Then she asked, “How’s your owie?”

Kassandra reflexively rubbed her right hand with her left, feeling the raised scar that ran across the back of her hand in a stark red line. Her skin may have healed, but her ring and little fingers still remained worryingly numb. All her grip strength when holding her spear came from those two fingers. If they didn’t heal right…

But Phoibe didn’t need to know all this. “Much better,” she said.

“Can I see it?”

Kassandra knew the question for what it was, and opened her arms so the girl could crawl into her lap. Small fingers explored her hand, tracing the scar and poking at the callouses on her palm.

“Rough,” Phoibe declared.

“Yeah.”

“Will mine get like that?”

“Maybe. Depends on what trade you take up.”

“I’m gonna heal people with my hands.” She tugged Kassandra’s hand closer and cupped it between her own.

“That would be nice of you.”

Phoibe giggled and dug deeper into Kassandra’s lap, her head resting against Kassandra’s chest. “You’re nice.”

Was she? Kassandra wasn’t sure. She had rarely been wielded for anything good.

Phoibe lay silently in her lap as the fire burned down, and for a while Kassandra thought she might have fallen asleep. She closed her eyes, enjoying the fire’s warmth, and, she admitted to herself, Phoibe’s contented closeness. After a while, Phoibe stirred, and said “Sorry,” so quietly Kassandra almost missed hearing it.

“For what?”

“You didn’t… You didn’t want to be with me today.”

Kassandra cursed herself silently. She'd have to remember to watch herself around Phoibe in the future, because even a five-year-old could understand the happenings around them, and they rarely missed anything important.

She used a finger to tilt Phoibe’s chin up to look at her. “Listen. I did have something else I wanted to do, but I’m here with you now. And I’m glad to be.”

Phoibe’s arms wrapped around her.

“I’m sorry I made you feel like you weren’t welcome.”

“You still made me a feast.” Phoibe, finding some good left in her.

She smiled. “Can’t be Solstice without a feast.” The smell of roasting meat made her stomach rumble. “And I think it might be ready.” She lifted herself to her feet and took Phoibe along for the ride.

Phoibe let out an excited howl as she swooped through the air. “Yes!”

Solstice was here.

[straight-into-the-animus]

We Might Blame The Gods (Or Ourselves) (Thalexios)

More Thalexios! But with angst, so please be warned with this one! It has very little in the way of comfort and very much hurt! This was requested by @kaliandra so thank you for the patience! I got really carried away but I loved the prompt and I hope you enjoy it! 

Read on Ao3!

Every Spartan boy, from the time he was old enough to hold a spear, trained in the agoge. Every boy knew it was to make Sparta stronger. Your body was meant to be perfect. Your mind was always meant to be sharp, hungry, focused on the next battle. You would come home with your shield, or on it. You fought honorably, yes, but on the battlefield you were ruthless, uncaring, cold.

While Alexios wasn’t a Spartan anymore, hadn’t been since his ‘execution’ nearly two decades ago, for as long as he could remember the battlefield had welcomed him. Perhaps it truly was something left over in him from his time in Sparta. It was dull but still very much there.

He had no problem with Athenians, personally; they were generous with payment, after all. They trusted him, they paid him, and the mercenary Sparta had chosen to side with was part of the Cult. Cutting off one head of that snake? That would simply make his day among all other things.

The weather was fair and unforgiving, even though the terrain was hard and unforgiving as Alexios fell onto it more time than he would like care to admit. The cultist had a brutal bludgeon with blunted, short points. It had hit Alexios square in his stomach in a way that had him nearly doubling over, and again on his left arm, but Alexios was able to kill him with more than a bit of agility that winded him just slightly. 

He heard the rocks shift behind him just behind him, more like pebbles, and without even thinking he raised his freshly bloodied sword to face his would-be assailant. Adrenaline was still fresh as it sped through his veins, but he felt a chill as he took in the man in front of him, a chill that had nothing to do with a change in wind.

“Thaletas.”

“Eagle-Bearer.” Thaletas’ voice was… He couldn’t say it was soft, because how could a voice be soft where they were? When two people were doing what they were doing? He stood across from Alexios, a sword in one hand and a painted Spartan shield in the other, a general’s shield. ‘It suited him’, Alexios allowed himself to think, before he forced himself to go blank.

“You’re the polemarch.”

“And you’re the Athenian mercenary.” Thaletas responded instead of answering. “I’m sorry.”

And oh, Alexios had only been truly sorry a few times in his life. He had been sorry for leaving Phoibe. He had been sorry for not being able to save his sister from falling off that mountain and into the hands of the Cult. But now? Now he was sorry for having thought he could just leave Mykonos and Thaletas, for taking those steps to bring himself here. But he didn’t say that.

“Bruised, bloody, or broken.” The meaning was clear as Alexios crouched into a fighting stance, something not feeling completely right in his body as he did. But Thaletas understood. He gave a barely there nod and mirrored the position.

“Never hold back.”

---------------

The last time they had fought at those ruins felt like ages ago. But back then, it had been in some weird, fantastic fun. Some warriors courtship they both acknowledged and agreed to. There had been no goal there to hurt for real, to kill. But now? Thaletas had no words. 

Back and forth it went, with clashes of steel and sparks flying where metal connected. The battle raged around them both but Thaletas paid it no mind, too concerned with the firebrand of a misthios in front of him. Those deep brown eyes, which once used to look at him with a sort of smug pride and soft adoration, now burned with an intensity from Ares himself. His mouth was hardened into a sort of sneer. There was determination etched into every line on his face. He looked every inch the demigod that the stories had said. And yet… Thaletas couldn’t help but wish they were still side by side.

It was one move that he saw, one misstep in Alexios’ footwork that Thaletas took his chance. Fatigue hung on both of their bones, but the mercenary they had hired had gotten to Alexios first. Thaletas sidestepped as Alexios moved and sent him sprawling into the ground. Alexios tried to turn around onto his back to get up but Thaletas’ sword was pointed straight at his face.

“It’s over, Alexios.” Thaletas spoke as confidently as he could, even if it was more so than he felt. Their chests heaved and he watched the blood and mud stained face of his opponent hide how much it was starting to sink in. Defiant until the end. This was the man who had defeated an Athenian blockade, had won over islands and killed leaders in their own household, seemingly by himself. You didn’t get that far by surrender. But he had no choice in this manner.

“Spartans don’t take prisoners.” Alexios finally made it out. “You know that as well as I do.”

“Exceptions can always be made.” As the surroundings came back, Thaletas realized that even as they spoke, the battle was almost over. Athenians were beginning the retreat, or they were being slaughtered on spears and swords. They had failed to take the land, but they would come back, of course. There was little doubt about that. But Thaletas would likely be gone by then. His concerns were of the here and now; and, against his better judgement, he needed to do something with the misthios at his feet.

“Polemarch!” A soldier came running up as if he could read Thaletas’ mind. “What must be done now?”

“Assess the living, their conditions. Those who are dead of our army, I want them and their equipment brought back to camp with us. And…” He trailed off and put his attention back on Alexios, who had gone uncharacteristically silent. Thaletas quickly saw why in the way he tried to hide how he cradled his stomach, even as he held onto defiance the way a man trying not to fall holds onto a fraying rope. “Take this one back to the camp as well. He was employed by the Athenians. Perform aid on him and bring him and everything he owns to my tent when finished.”

“Yes, polemarch.” There was a question that thankfully that did not make it past the soldiers lips as he turned on heel and left.

“All of Sparta would weep at how soft you’ve turned.” Alexios murmured, but there was no real malice or bitterness directed at anyone that Thaletas could tell.

“Perhaps.” Thaletas said, and nothing more was said before eventually more soldiers came and picked Alexios up, dragging him to his feet. Thaletas walked away. Overhead, in the clouds, an eagle with golden feathers was starting to cry out.

---------------

Spartans were nothing if not efficient, Alexios quickly learned as he was handed over from soldier to soldier through the march and through the camp for his wounds to be tended. As soon as everything from the fight had begun to wear off, he could feel the bruises and pain set in up and down his body, extending even towards the outside of his spear arm where he’d been hit. It wasn’t broken, but even if it was they likely wouldn’t have cared. 

They took his weapons and grandfather’s spear and quickly bound his hands in front of him before marching him over to Thaletas’ tent. It was larger on the inside, but spare, with a place for his armor, a makeshift desk with a map in the center of the tent, and a single bed in the corner. Nothing fancy, nothing more than what he needed. Very Spartan, and very much what Alexios remembered of Thaletas and his life on Mykonos.

They were left alone as Thaletas dismissed the soldiers, and soon it was just them in the candle lit tent. Thaletas sat at his desk, Alexios barely able to hold on as he stood in front of him. He was stripped bare and defenseless despite his armor, knowing very well that there was a chance that if he left this tent, it would be as a corpse. Their eyes met and their gazes held each other. It was finally Alexios who broke the silence.

“Why did you bring me here? You could have, you should have, left me on that field.”

“You had been working with the Athenians. Any information you have would be useful.” The reply was smooth, immediate, and practiced.

“You know as well as I do the Athenians wouldn’t tell me anything. And you can’t hold me as a prisoner of war. Luxuries such as that don’t apply to those of my trade.”

“And your ‘trade’,” Thaletas’ voice was quiet, but seemed to hold an air of almost… disgust at the word, “has led you here to a Spartan general’s tent as a captive, bound and injured.”

“Sometimes these things happen.”

“How can you stand to be so calm at a time like this?” Thaletas finally stood up from his desk. “Alexios, do you realize how much it pains me to be here? For us to be where we are? After everything we shared…” Gods, the pain in his chest was greater than any spear or sword that could pierce him.

“You chose Sparta. You chose Kyra. A Spartan general, are you not? You made a choice as much as I did.”

“And I have lived in regret of that choice everyday. Ever since I have just kept thinking that there was something I could say differently to bring you back to Sparta with me.”

“Don’t do this now, Thaletas, I’m begging you.” Alexios shut his eyes and had to will his breathing to slow down. His hands clenched and he felt the strain of the rope around his wrists, trying to remind himself where he was, that this wasn’t that night. He couldn’t fall for these sweet words again, couldn’t reach out to pull Thaletas closer and destroy any semblance of where they each began and ended like he wanted to.

“I can grant you leniency, Alexios. You can say you have defected. And once we are free to leave these shores, I will take you back to Sparta, work for you to be under me.”

“You don’t even know the whole story.”

“Then tell it to me. We never… We never spoke as we said we would.”

“It’s a long story. Not one I can just give freely.”

Thaletas went quiet again. He studied Alexios’ face before leaving and going for his armor. Alexios didn’t realize what it was until Thaletas began cutting at the ropes with a dagger. He was free quickly but didn’t know what to do with himself, somehow.

“I have time.”

Alexios knew he likely didn’t have a choice. But this time, he didn’t want to refuse.

---------------

They sat on the bed, hunched over the edge, and Thaletas stared at Alexios as the other stared resolutely at the ground and told his story. The general had never forgotten Alexios’ face, nor its subtleties. The scars decorating it, the beginnings of a beard that Alexios never let grow into anything else. The way his nose curved to the side, crooked from where it had been broken a few too many times. Now he learned things he never thought he would learn, or need to learn.

He learned that when Alexios was nervous, he clenched his hands together and interlocked the fingers. 

He learned that when Alexios was in pain, he paled and became a smaller version of himself, a way to not be so much of a target; like an animal in the wild.

Most importantly, Thaletas learned Alexios’ life. Learned about Mount Taygetos. About his execution. His legacy and the search for family. And he learned just how strong Alexios truly was.

The moon was well in the the sky when Alexios finally ceased, having run out of story to tell.

“I don’t know what to say.” Thaletas finally made out, quietly.

“You don’t need to say anything.” Alexios spoke with the same volume. “Just understand. I can’t go back to Sparta, Thaletas. Not now, if ever.”

“You said that on Mykonos. I thought… I thought it was a lust for adventure that had been put into your heart through a curse. Something to take you and keep you from me.” He found a humorless chuckle springing forth from his lips. “Had I known instead…”

A smirk barely twitched the corner of Alexios’ lips upward before he went stone faced again, still staring at the ground. “My mother is out there, Thaletas. As is my sister. Maybe… Perhaps one day, truly one day, I will step foot on Spartan shores. Perhaps you will be there as well. But until that time…”

Thaletas knew what was coming next. But his mind had been made up from the start about what he was to do. He stood from his bed, striding over to the other end of his tent, and picked up the sack of Alexios’ belongings and weapons. The misthios looked confused, with nervousness just barely there in his eyes even as he stood and accepted the items.

“The back of the tent is unstrung and loose. Leave through there. I will make an excuse for your escape. Your bird is likely nearby waiting for you anyway.”

“It’s not too late. Come with me. You will be safe on my ship, with my crew.” Alexios spoke, but both they knew it was in vain. He had given this offer once, it would not be taken the second time. 

“I have my men to look after. And you… You have your family to find. Take care, Alexios. Truly. May the Gods bless every step you take, my…” There were no words to complete that sentence. But he didn’t need them. The meaning was clear. Alexios nodded his understanding and his thanks.

“I’m sorry about earlier. On the battlefield, it was a rush, I thought you-”

“I felt it too. But you had it right. Bruised, bloody, broken.”

“Never hold back.” Alexios whispered and nodded once more, moving to brush past Thaletas. He paused in his tracks and turned, meeting Thaletas’ eyes for the briefest of seconds before leaning in and brushing their lips together. There was promise there, Thaletas felt it in his bones. A small, quiet promise that they would meet again, whether in this life or in the next. It was something gentle in a life and a world where they weren’t guaranteed such things.

“Stay safe.” Thaletas whispered, and Alexios nodded once before turning and hurrying away out the back of his tent as best as he could. Thaletas knew there would be explaining. Some of his men might have known who Alexios was from Mykonos. Some might even have a thought of their time together. But he would take care of that in the morning. But now, for the night… his bed looked cold and empty. As it had for what felt like ages now. 

Dear Gods, Alexios. Return safely. Return to me. Thaletas prayed to the only thing he cared to pray to at this point before putting out the candles in his tent.

-----------

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[eaglebearor]

Perihelion Pt. I | & Aspasia.

The place looks less like a tomb now and more like the Cult’s chamber in Phokis , bathed in torchlight and littered with flowers he doubts could have grown here on their own. He knows this could all be a trap , a tying of loose ends and the beginning of another end , one which he had failed to prevent. But he had trusted her then , and so he will trust her now because what other option is there ? He cannot go back to his mother and sister with a lie on his tongue. He must know if he’s made a mistake. And if he has , he must RECTIFY it. 

Though the moment he sees her again , any thought of such things is shed , leaving nothing more than an ache in their wake. How is it that she is more beautiful after all of this than she had been the first time he saw her ? But he would do well to remember that it was her beauty which had blinded him in the first place. 

❛  Is this how it begins then ?  ❜

She turns at the sound of his voice , not startled but rather - expectant. Doe eyes gleam in the firelight , the edge of her mouth curling upward in an expression he cannot help but mirror. He halts his steps just inside of the door for the safety of them both , for he fears any closer and it may never be close enough. 

❛  It does not look like much yet , does it ? ❜ She asks , moving to a table in the corner and picking up two chalices. She dips each into a vast bowl , one he vividly remembers , and turns to him again. ❛  But just think of all that we can accomplish now. Together. ❜

He braces upon her approach , not out of fear of harm but . . . well , anything but. He relies to heavily upon his heart. At least that is what his sister tells him , but it’s difficult to gage how right she is considering she is still learning how to use hers again. Nevertheless , he takes the offered cup from her hand , fingers brushing one another , and suppresses a shudder.

❛  What ? Am I to be your personal mercenary now ? ❜ 

He laughs , softly , before taking a large drink , attempting to calm his nerves. Her gaze , soft and serene , never wavers however as she takes a small sip as well , almost as an assurance. Shaking her head , she steps closer to him. 

❛  You are much more than that to me , Alexios. Did we not prove that the last time we spoke ? You trusted me. I know how hard that was for you , and I trusted you , regardless of how hard it was for me. And I’m trusting you now. ❜

It all seems too . . . EASY. And he is nowhere used to easy. He’s waiting for the teeth , the bloodshed , the begging and the pleading. HE’S WAITING TO BE THROWN FROM THE CLIFFS. However , her gaze is soft , and her palm is softer as she presses it against the side of his neck. Now , he cannot help but shiver , his eyelids heavy as he looks away. Her power is fathomless , over him and over all , and he wonders if anyone can possibly have that much power and do GOOD with it. He supposes all he can do is find out. 

❛ Then what would I be to you ? ❜

❛ My equal. ❜ She tilts her head. ❛ I do not ask for your blade alone , Alexios. I ask for you. All of you. ❜

Wetting his lips , he searches for some sign of deception in her tone , anything that would fill him in to the truth of it. But she had indeed persuaded him down in that chamber , had led him to believe that what she wanted for the world would be in the best interest him and his family. But were his morals any better than anyone else’s ? If the Cult had not come for his family , would he have cared at all ? What had he been fighting for in the end ?

Then he remembers Phoibe. 

❛  Why ? ❜ The question is soft , no more than a whisper , heavy on his tongue long after it leaves.

❛  Why you ? ❜

❛  No. Why Phoibe ? ❜