#lyre lyre hearts on fire

[witchrealms]

(x)

[girl4music]

I thought it was sweet too. I liked the fact that after he told her he loved her he was still actively pursuing her even though he knew he had no chance with her because she was in love with Xena. I mean how could he compete with her? He was just absolutely hopeless.

But unrequited love is a huge theme in television. It's a good story to tell. And when there's no real harm behind it, why not enjoy it for the story and for what it can teach you? You know? I had no issue with it.

[magicmalcolm]

Every so often I will remember that, yes, there was an episode of Xena which opens with her singing "War" and it only gets crazier from there.

[imaginejolls]

all 100th episodes of shows wish they went as hard as Xena's

[morverenmaybewrites]

I dont wanna say this but girl we should stop being obsessed with dead people. It's unhealty

What do you mean, anon? Do you mean Yoriichi Tsugikuni?

Or Kyoujurou Rengoku?

Because let me tell you, anon, I am not on this site because I have healthy coping mechanisms. Like. At all.

[boygirlctommy]

i madeeee sillay new characters and i love them

[bloddysnow]

Summary: You are an emperor, and you have your own harem consisting of four consorts.

Pairings: Sub! Bottom! Zayne/Sylus/Rafayel/Xavier x Dom! Top! Gn! Reader

nsfw minors dni

They have different features and characters, each of which is a unique combination of beauty, strength and charm.

The first consort, Zayne was a skillful healer, known for his wisdom and insight. He was not only handsome, but also smart. His knowledge of herbs and medicines helped to keep you in good health, helping to stay full of strength and energy. He often gave you valuable advice in governing the state. He had a refined taste and exquisite grace. His outfits have always been made with elegance.

The second consort, Rafayel, has a passionate temperament and burning beauty. Something about him always makes him the center of attention in any room. He chooses the most precious fabrics and jewelry to emphasize his beauty. Rafayel spends his days perfecting the art of dance, demonstrating flexibility and ability to control his body. He was not only a talented dancer, but also a skillful musician. In the evenings, he plays the lyre, hoping to attract you with melodic sounds and his angelic voice. His talent was known far beyond the palace.

The third consort, Sylus is famous for his wisdom and deep knowledge of poetry and philosophy. Passion and temptation permeates his every movement and every word. His eyes burn with the fire of thirst, giving mystery. He is also a master of martial arts. His grace and dexterity delighted everyone who saw his training. He often quotes poems and philosophical thoughts, hoping to win your heart through mind and soul.

The fourth consort, Xavier is known for his innocence and sincerity. He wears light and bright outfits that emphasize his young beauty. Its beauty is emphasized by simplicity and naturalness. He likes to walk in the garden and pick flowers. He wants to attract you with his purity and innocence. His room is filled with the scents of fresh flowers and the soft light of candles since he every evening hopes that you’ll want to visit him.

They dress up in frank clothes that barely cover their bodies to better demonstrate the traces of your caresses - dark spots and red marks from love bites that cover their delicate skin with a marble pattern. Every sign you leave is considered a pride, and they do not hide them under their makeup, but show them out.

At public meetings, banquets, parties and most social events, your consorts properly stand right behind your back and will always accompany you. Their presence behind your back symbolized the unity and strength of the imperial family. They’ll hide their faces under face veil, leaving only their eyes open. Since childhood, they have been taught that their bodies belong only to the emperor, and this knowledge is deeply rooted in their minds. Because of this, they cannot get physical pleasure on their own, knowing that their purpose is to serve only you.

As an emperor, you are aware of the importance of fair and respectful treatment of your consorts. And you try to pay equal attention to them all, making sure that each of them feels loved and valuable.

Evenings in the garden with Xavier have become an oasis of calm and happiness for you. The garden has an atmosphere of peace and harmony created by the rustle of foliage, the singing of birds and the quiet murmur of the fountain. Xavier brings the book he chose in advance and sits on the soft grass under the shade of an old oak leaning against it. You settle down next to him, putting your head on his lap. His hands begin to gently stroke your hair. He opens the book and starts reading aloud. His voice, soft and expressive, fills the space around you. Closing your eyes, you enjoy every minute spent with him.

Sylus often asks you to practice with him. One of your rules was the following: if he wins, you will fulfill any of his wishes. He attacks quickly and deftly, trying to find vulnerabilities. You, in turn, fight back, always trying to keep a balance between defense and attack. However, despite his aspiration and skills, he has never managed to defeat you. You are always one step ahead. You know that the real goal of these trainings is not victory, but time spent together. And this ends with Sylus breathing heavily with his hands around your neck, feeling the warmth of your body. Your hands wrap around his waist, pulling him closer. His lips are warm, persistent, conveying all the passion that he may have been holding back for a long time.

Rafayel, dressed in light silk clothes, slowly goes to the center of the hall, illuminated by the soft light of candles. The sounds of darbuka and qanun begin to fill the space. Smooth waves run through his body, starting from his hips and rising up his spine. He skillfully uses his shoulders. His hands gently twist, repeating the curves of the melody, and his fingers touch the invisible strings, adding a touch of magic to the dance. His hips make graceful movements, synchronously swaying in the rhythm of melody. His body is the true perfection of beauty. Each muscle contraction, each movement emphasizes the ideal lines of his figure. The light of candles plays on his skin, creating a game of shadows and emphasizing every muscle. When he looks at you, it seems that time stops. His eyes are full of depth and passion, you can drown in them, forgetting about everything in the world. It's like they bewitched you, and you can't take your eyes off him. They reflect the whole world, full of mysteries and secrets that he is ready to share only with you.

In the majestic imperial palace, immersed in luxury and splendor, your life was surrounded by Zayne's care and attention. Not trusting the servants, Zayne personally followed every aspect of your daily life. It was his personal privilege and duty that he was proud of. Taking care of the emperor gave him some pleasure. He chooses your outfit for the day, also takes care of your hairstyle, skillfully styling your hair and giving it a neat look. He makes sure that consorts didn't bother you and asks you every night if you wanted to visit someone's quarters. Zayne takes care of his emperor with awe and love, trying to protect you from all possible troubles and worries. As a sign of gratitude for his tireless care and devotion, you often took his hands in your own and gratefully kiss them. Zayne was always embarrassed at these moments, looking away.

Their hearts are pounding in anticipation of your next choice, and each of them is eager to be in emperor’s quarters again. When they find themselves in your bed, their moans and screams become loud and passionate, breaking the silence of the night. It's not only an expression of their pleasure, but also a way to show others your closeness to them. They cry, clutching your cock buried deep inside them, and whisper through tears: "I'm y-your favorite, right?" Their voices tremble with emotions, and their hearts beat in the hope of confirming their uniqueness and love.

Their bellies become swollen from the amount of sperm inside their wombs. When you gently press on their stomach, white sperm flows out of their hole, and they whine, asking you not to waste it. Each of them dreams of giving birth to the first heir, who will strengthen his position in the harem and give him power and respect.

[genshin-scenarios]

pacts and their marks: demon au

Summary: Where you've accidentally summoned a demon (you’re an exorcist) and now you’re in a pact with them! They’re now your assistant of sorts, some more willing than others…

Characters: Venti, Xiao, Lyney, Wanderer

Content warnings: minor injury and blood (Xiao), mentions of fire and smoke with allusions to death (Lyney), mentions of death and human experimentation (Wanderer)

Generally speaking, Venti likes to float rather than walk if he can help it; he’s gotten the habit of flitting around your form often, hanging off your shoulders and clinging on to you absentmindedly. You might be more annoyed about it if it wasn’t for his voice as he greets you, light and deceptively soothing.

Venti’s music hypnotizes the heart. Whether it be singing or another instrument, he has the ability to convince any being, living or dead, to do as he wishes—so long as his melody isn’t overpowered by their strength of mind.

Honestly, sometimes you wonder if he’s testing the safety-precautions of your pact. You’re invulnerable to his powers thanks to it, but with the way he endears himself towards you, you wonder if his true motive was to steal your affections in another way.

He’s one of the rare demons that blend in with people well. You found him as a spirit living inside an antique lyre; while Venti says he was sleeping there for a lack of anything to do, you have a feeling that there’s another story behind his attachment to the item. He often uses it in battle—its strings glowing with an old magic that matches the shade of his eyes and braids.

You sometimes forget how deadly it is to lose one’s mind in the heat of a fight, when Venti’s lying next to you on the bed as he scrolls on your spare phone. Noticing your attention he peers up, twirling his hair—currently unbraided—between his fingers.

For how much he teases you about praising him, Venti’s never mentioned anything about playing his music to get rid of your nightmares. One time, when you were especially sick, you recall him singing a song in a language you didn’t recognise.

It was hauntingly beautiful, and so was the way he brushed his hand through your hair, too gentle compared to the demons you had to hunt down.

Xiao’s most unique feature had to be his wings; the same dark shade as his hair, dipped in streaks of teal.

During a quiet night, he’d told you they used to be white as snow and gilded with gold. But an angel that kills to protect is destined to fall from the clouds, shrouded by the ghosts of those they have slain.

You know there are others like him, but he says they’ve succumbed to corrosion. He is the only one left, and is one of the only demons you’ve met that hunt down their own species. In an effort to save him from his own corrosion, you’d made a pact with Xiao to link your life forces. 

Despite how he’d told you to leave him, his spirit still reached for yours—towards any form of light and warmth it could meet. Xiao still finds the marks of the pact distasteful, however, always glancing at the dark patterns now etched into your skin. You tell him it’s more reassuring than not, now that you can summon him with a call of his name.

If there’s one word to describe his powers, it’s destructive in every form of the word. Xiao leaves the battlefield entirely demolished after a fight. Sometimes he struggles to control his strength, but it’s been getting easier to do so with your presence to balance his. 

He prefers to throw himself in as the weapon. Which is why when you’re the one that gets injured this time around, all Xiao can do is panic. He holds you in his arms, frozen as he realizes he cannot help.

Thankfully, it wasn’t a serious wound. But after that, Xiao has been a lot more protective of you; almost hyper-aware.

“W—What are you doing, Xiao?” You flinch as he bites into your palm, drawing a small line of blood. 

Xiao hums. “Did you know that even using your blood, I can only heal you a limited amount with our pact?” Another bite, this time with his fangs, frustrated. “Keep that in mind the next time you plan on getting hurt.” You’re lucky the hospital could treat you this time around.

All Lyney knows is that he was reborn in a fire. At the back of his mind, he’s searching for his siblings—though he’s not sure where they are.

Like smoke filling a room, Lyney’s able to create illusions that trick all the senses. At your first meeting, he’d tried this on you; only for one of your protective amulets to diffuse his powers, revealing a larger demon he’d been working with that’d been ready to devour you. 

Suffice to say, Lyney was quick to switch sides once he noticed that you were winning. That, and the demon he was working with turned out to have lied about having a lead for him. After noticing your potential as a partner, he’d been quick to scout for your help.

He often uses his illusions to fool enemies into fighting one-another, redirecting their attention away—but after the pact, Lyney seems to lose his larger-than-life traits and falls into a casual routine with you. It makes you wonder if he’d been human before this, though sometimes he’s more cat-like than not.

If nothing else, he does like to put on a show when you’re faced with a battle. He makes your job easy, considering that your bond allows you to see past his illusions and maneuver around enemies, finding the perfect blind spots. Despite the oddity of your partnership, you start to enjoy the pattern of working with Lyney, from your smooth conversations to his smarts. 

One thing that does throw him off however, is when a demon you were trying to exorcize attempts to form a pact with you. Not that you can’t have multiple pacts at once, but it’s the first time you’ve seen Lyney openly aggressive towards an enemy, striking it with a sharp bolt of flame that diffuses it long enough for you to dispose of it.

With the threat gone, Lyney was quick to check on you, looking for any traces the other demon might’ve left behind. He calms down once he finds nothing, eyes widening when he realizes your faces are only inches apart.

“I…” He looks like he’s about to apologize, but decides against it. “Please don’t make a pact with anyone else. I don’t want to feel like that ever again.”

When you first met, Wanderer had tried to turn you into a puppet.

It was his power, after all—to attach strings onto any form and take control of them. These strings could be cut off, but it would only take so long for him to attach them again.

Most people don’t survive their encounters with him, but you’d managed to trap him into a pact right before things went dire. Now you could restrain his actions to a certain extent, though Wanderer would always push against your control, keeping you on your guard.

Many coworkers have told you to simply be rid of him—but just as you’d tricked Wanderer into a pact with you, he’s since linked your heart with his soul. That is to say, if he was exorcized, you’d be going down with him.

It’s a small relief to learn that Wanderer could also puppeteer other demons, thus you put him to work on the field by your side, turning into an unwilling duo. He has a habit of not doing anything unless you make it a ‘command’, leaning closer with a challenge in his eyes even as an enemy charged at the both of you. 

Then, with a snap of his fingers, they’d stop mid-air. As large as the pact's patterns are on your skin, you had to admit that Wanderer’s power was a deadly one.

You’ve always wondered why he had no reactions to injuries; no matter how serious, you’ve never seen Wanderer express pain. Much, much later into your partnership, you learn that he’s become numb to physical sensations a long time ago. And that him turning into a demon was a gift of reprieve more than not, as he’d destroyed and escaped from an experimental facility shortly after.

During a fight where you'd been affected by a tranquilising venom, Wanderer had been the one to save you; your eyes met briefly as you felt his strings take a hold of your form.

“Don't make me look bad now.” He'd said. “Just relax.” 

With not much of a choice, you allowed him to guide your movements. Somehow, it does feel different compared to your first encounter with his powers. With a push and pull between the strings, you could almost say it felt like a dance.

Were Wanderer's movements always this graceful?

Preorders for my wanderer fanbook and genshin letters are open! If you liked this, consider checking out the purple link on my pinned post!

[hwanchaesong]

Greetings from,

The Tortured Poets Department

🖋️ In every word, a tormented heart lies / In every sentence, at the end of it are bland goodbyes / In every paragraph, a soul is in the brink of demise 📖

┗🖋️In between fights and smoke / Daydream collides with a poison cloak / Putting nightmares into a tight choke / Fixing it with a lust-filled stroke 📖

Read here

┗🖋️ Starry eyes lighting up the fire / The scorching palms of a squire / Ignites the sensations of ire / A storm, not in peace with a lyre 📖

Read here

┗🖋️ Tears drown you to the moon / A knight appears for you to swoon / He brings forth joy and fortune / Until gold turns into maroon 📖

Read here

┗🖋️ Mayhem, mayhem follows silence / Walks unto the middle a prince / Bringing luck out of fountains / In a vow of shielding the villains 📖

Read here

┗🖋️ A once in a blue moon chance / Sculpts a rose and violet romance / In an ivory and rings trance / Comes a tragic wound by lance 📖

Read here

┗🖋️ Fun, was it, when the poor smile / A wooden home has gone senile / Its soil is nothing but fertile / Yet the fruits are declared as an exile 📖

Read here

┗🖋️ Behind the victory is a spice / Ball tagged onto the prize / Then the touch is nothing but a vice / Inhaled not once, but thrice 📖

Read here

Sincerely,

Yours Truly

[winxanity-ii]

⌜Godly Things | Chapter 02 Chapter 02 | melody⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

The sun shone brightly, a golden orb in a cloudless sky, casting warmth over the bustling marketplace.

The air was filled with the hum of activity—the laughter of children running around, their small feet kicking up dust as they giggled, weaving in and out between makeshift stalls.

Shopkeepers called out their wares, their voices blending into a melodic cacophony.

Stands made from old wood and vibrant fabrics offered fruits, spices, and handmade crafts, creating a colorful, bustling scene that felt almost like a miniature city.

Aleka moved through the crowd, her face beaming with a bright, content smile. A woven basket rested in the crook of her arm, filled with a few goods already purchased.

Her clothes were simple yet well-made, comfortable, and hand-knitted from good material—dyed in soft, earthy colors. Her long hair was pulled into a low bun, stray wisps framing her radiant face.

But what had the beautiful woman smiling most was the wide-eyed, joyful toddler clutching her hand.

"____," Aleka called gently, her voice filled with warmth as she turned to look at her child. The both of you stopped in front of a fruit stand, and she knelt down to your level, her hands reaching up to cup your soft, chubby cheeks. "What would you like, my sweet one?"

You turned your gaze from the bustling crowd to your mother, your eyes brightening as you grinned. You pointed to your favorite fruit—sweet figs, their dark skin glistening in the sunlight—your voice ringing out with excitement. "Figs!"

Aleka giggled at your enthusiasm, nodding. "Alright, my little dove," she said with a smile, rising to her feet to do the transaction with the older woman selling the fruits.

As your mother began to barter, you found your attention drifting away, your ears catching a soft, gentle sound—a melody drifting through the market.

There was something about it that pulled at you, a feeling you couldn't quite explain.

Your small hand slipped free from your mother's as you slowly wandered away, drawn by the enchanting tune.

The music led you further into the marketplace until you came upon a small crowd seated in a semi-circle around a young man who was playing an instrument—a lyre.

Your little form managed to squeeze its way to the front, giving you a close-up view of the musician.

The young man was slender, with a boyish face, his features gentle and kind. His hair was short, dark, and neatly kept, with a laurel wreath resting upon his head. His skin was tanned, sun-kissed from days spent outdoors, and his eyes were a light brown, glinting almost golden in the sunlight.

He strummed the lyre with deft fingers, his voice smooth and melodic, weaving an ode to Apollo.

"Apollo of the golden lyre, bringer of light and muse's fire, may your radiance never fade, and guide us through each night and shade..."

You listened, enraptured, your young heart swelling with an inexplicable warmth. The words were beautiful, filled with devotion and reverence, and something in the music seemed to speak directly to your soul, filling you with awe.

The melody wrapped around you like a comforting embrace, and you found yourself swaying gently to the tune, unable to look away from the lyre or the boy who played it.

As the last note of his song faded into the air, the small crowd erupted into applause, the people around you clapping enthusiastically as the young man gave a polite bow, a soft smile on his face.

He began to pack up his lyre, but as his eyes swept over the crowd, they landed on you, lingering for a moment.

A hint of confusion flickered across his features before his lips curved into a wider smile. He walked over to where you stood, bending at the waist so that he was at your level.

The young man hummed thoughtfully, his eyes studying you with curiosity. "You know," he said softly, "you must be favored, little one." His voice was kind, and there was something almost knowing in his gaze. He reached up, plucking the laurel wreath from his head before gently placing it on yours, the leaves brushing against your hair. "May Apollo's blessings follow you always," he whispered with a gentle smile.

Suddenly, a voice called your name, tinged with urgency and relief. "____!"

You looked over to see your mother standing a few feet away, a small bag of fruit in her hand.

Her eyes were wide with concern, but as soon as they landed on you, her shoulders relaxed. She hurried over, her eyes shifting to the young man, who had straightened up and was now watching her with a polite expression.

"Is this your little one?" the musician asked, his smile never fading.

Aleka nodded, her lips curving into a warm smile as you skipped over to her, wrapping your arms around her thigh and looking up at her with a bright grin. "Yes, she is," Aleka replied, her voice soft with affection.

The young man bowed slightly. "She is a special one. May Apollo continue to bless her," he said, his words carrying a weight that made Aleka freeze for a moment.

It was as if he knew something more—something he shouldn't know; but she quickly forced a smile, nodding in thanks. "Thank you, truly," she replied.

With that, the young man turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd, his lyre slung over his shoulder. Aleka watched him go for a moment before looking down at you, her eyes softening at the sight of the laurel wreath perched on your head.

"Come, my little dove," she said, her voice gentle as she took your hand once more, and the two of you began making your way back home.

The sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink as you and your mother walked along the familiar path.

You chattered happily about the marketplace, the laurel wreath still sitting snugly atop your head.

Neither of you noticed how, as the sun dipped lower on the horizon, the wreath shimmered softly, the leaves turning a delicate shade of gold—glowing faintly, as if touched by a divine hand.

☆

☆

Apollo's favor came in small, gentle ways at first—a gift that always seemed sweeter than it was meant to be and far more complicated.

Your favorite flowers always bloomed a little longer in the fields near your home, even when they should have withered with the changing seasons.

The fig trees that bore your favorite fruit remained lush and plentiful, giving you their bounty when others turned barren.

Even from a young age, it was clear that you were different—a prodigy.

Your mother would often take you to the bustling marketplace, letting you listen to the musicians who played their instruments with skill and passion.

You would watch, enraptured, until one day you finally plucked up the courage to pick up a lyre and sing yourself.

From that day forward, music came naturally to you; your fingers danced over the strings of the lyre without thought, and your voice flowed with melodies that had the power to still hearts and even bring tears to the eyes of Hades himself.

People whispered that you were a reincarnation of Orpheus himself, because when you played, your melodies held the power to stir even the coldest hearts, to make flowers bloom, and to soothe wild beasts.

But favor with the gods was a double-edged sword—fate had its own plans for those touched by divinity, and those plans could be cruel, even for someone like you.

The curse that had lingered over your family for generations had finally come.

A curse that began with Aphrodite herself, who had been slighted by one of your distant ancestors—a beautiful, radiant figure who had fallen deeply in love but failed to pay homage to the goddess of love, thinking that true love alone was enough.

Aphrodite had other ideas. She was vindictive in her beauty, jealous in her divinity. She cursed your ancestor and all their descendants: every family that dared to find happiness would inevitably face heartbreak.

The tragedy that was meant to strike your parents—losing their beloved child—had been prevented by Apollo. But fate could not be denied so easily.

An illness swept through your household—a sickness that drained strength, dimmed eyes, and stole warmth.

Yet, you remained untouched.

You had always kept your golden laurel leaf close; its soft glow and delicate form seemingly held some protective power. You would sit by their bedside, clutching the laurel, hoping its light could extend beyond you and touch them too.

But no matter how tightly you held it, you couldn't change their fate

So while your parents fell ill, you remained strong; the sickness passed over you as though repelled by the leaf's light.

And despite all their efforts, your parents were not as fortunate; they succumbed, leaving you alone in the world—an orphan with no one left to turn to.

☆

☆

You wandered the countryside, your stomach empty, your feet aching, your heart heavy.

It had been months since your parents passed, and everything seemed to crumble after that. The clothes you wore were now nothing but rags—tattered, worn, and barely able to protect you from the elements.

Your once soft, comfortable dresses were replaced by frayed garments, hanging loosely off your thinning frame, stained with dirt and the remnants of long, restless travels.

Your feet were bare, the soles cracked and bruised, covered in cuts from the rough terrain.

The wind bit at your exposed skin, and the cold crept into your bones, unrelenting.

The melody that had once been in your heart felt distant, replaced by the hollow sound of emptiness.

The gods' favor seemed to have abandoned you.

You were alone, cold, and hungry—until you heard it.

A sudden melody drifted through the air, soft and haunting, a tune that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once. It was the kind of song that made the heart yearn, tugged at the spirit, and it carried a warmth that wrapped around you like a comforting embrace.

You followed the melody, your feet moving as if drawn by invisible threads, leading you away from the barren landscape.

As you stepped closer, the music grew louder, guiding you over hills and past clusters of trees until the sight of a village appeared just over the horizon, bustling with life and movement.

It was Apollo's first favor since your family had died—a small sign, a chance to keep moving forward; the warmth in the melody was unmistakable—like a whisper from Apollo himself, urging you onwards.

The music pointed the way forward, leading you to a small village just over the horizon.

The people there were bustling around, merchants calling out their wares, food sizzling over open fires, the scent of spices and salt carried in the air; it reminded you of the marketplace back at home.

Among the bustling crowd, you caught snippets of conversation—a ship soon to depart for the island, Ithaca, carrying traders and travelers, a passage to a new beginning.

After overhearing this, you followed the murmurs, your feet sore and stomach rumbling; your eyes were wide as you spotted the ship at the docks, its sails billowing in the breeze.

You weaved through the crowds until you came across a group of men readying the ship—shouting orders, hauling crates, their voices loud over the creaking of the docked boat.

You slowly moved forward, attempting to slip between the stacked boxes, hoping to get closer unnoticed.

"Aye, little lad! Where do you think you're going?" The voice called out, deep and gruff. You froze, looking up to meet the gaze of a towering man, his brow furrowed as he stared down at you. You swallowed, your throat dry, stepping out from behind the crates with trembling hands.

"I-I was just... looking for something..." you stuttered, your voice trailing off, uncertain and nervous; you were pitiful, covered in dirt, your hair tangled, and your rags hanging loosely off your gaunt frame. Your face was streaked with grime, and your eyes—though bright—were hollow with hunger and exhaustion.

The man eyed you suspiciously, his brows knitting tighter. "Where are your parents, kid?" he asked, his voice now slightly gentler but still gruff.

You looked away, your gaze dropping to the ground as a sadness washed over your features. "They... they're dead," you whispered, your voice barely audible, the pain still fresh even after all these months.

The man was silent for a moment, his eyes softening. He glanced around, then back down at you. "Do you have a place to go?" he asked, his tone now a mix of concern and disbelief. "You look a little young to be wandering on your own."

You pressed your lips into a thin line, refusing to cry. Instead, you stared back at him, determination shining through the exhaustion etched on your face.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look, kid," he began, "my ship is heading out towards Ithaca for some trading. I heard Queen Penelope's looking for some hands. She needs workers in her halls, people to help out. It ain't much, but it's something."

Your heart leapt at the chance, and you quickly nodded. "I'm a fast learner, sir. I can do anything, whatever you need. I promise I won't be any trouble." Your voice was earnest, filled with a desperate hope.

The man huffed again, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly as if fighting off a smile. "Alright, alright, we'll see about that. Get on, then, but don't be causing any trouble."

Relief flooded you, and you nodded quickly, stepping forward towards the ship, ready to prove yourself—ready for whatever awaited you in Ithaca.

As you stood near the ship's railing, looking out into the endless distance of the sea, the waves shimmered under the sunlight, and the salty breeze whipped through your tangled hair.

You gripped the railing with your bruised and dirt-covered hands, the wood rough under your fingers.

Your heart skipped a beat. You had nothing left here, no family, no home, no future. But Ithaca—it offered a chance, however small, at a new life.

And perhaps, in the halls of Penelope, you might find purpose again—a reason to keep going, a hope to cling to amidst the uncertainty of the open ocean.

[lucienarcheron]

Spirit Meets the Bones XXIV

Genre: Angst/Romance/Drama Warnings: Mentions of physical abuse. Author's Note: anddd we're finally starting with the new chapters! I hope you all enjoy :)

shoutout to @abruisedmuse for being part of this journey with me!!

tagging: @climb-the-mountian / @vanserrass / @zenkindoflove / @animezinglife / @readthelastpaage / @teddyhoneybear / @positivewitch / @krem-does-stuff / @clockwork-ashes / @carolynmezzosoprano / @carnythian / @runningwiththeoceans / @secret-third-thing / @readychilledwine / @goldenmagnolias / @thedarkinmansfield / @mali22 / @maidr-00 / @electromagnetic-waves / @eastofatlanta / @moobell55 / @bibliophiliaxvignette / @devilsfoodcake22 / @moonfawnx / @weesablackbeak / @ladywhilemia / @alohaangels / @eachies / @feysandfeels / @thelovelymadone / @corcracrow / @dawneternal / @sinnerrsworld / @gracie-rosee / @stormycleric / @queenoftheworld1998 / @wolvesnravens / @theeternalstruggle / @the-midnightwriter / @illyrianvalkyrie / @that-golden-lyre / @ladystarrynight / @rityrooroo / @thewilderheart

Find it all here.

Hearing the words from her lips – it was like a boulder dropping right on his chest. 

But the confirmation made up for whatever else had happened during this day. It set what was left of his wretched soul on fire and the need to claim her nearly had him drop to his knees.

She wasn’t repulsed. She wasn’t running. She stood in his arms, hands at her sides as she stared at him and all Eris wanted to do was taste every inch of her.

“When — how did you know?” she asked.

“I’ve sensed something different about this relationship with you from the very first night we spent together.” he said quietly. “It wasn’t until you were with your father and I felt you. Like an invisible string being pulled.”

“Like a thread.” she said quietly. 

“A thread,” he confirmed. “And it dragged me right to you.”

Iris swallowed and she opened her mouth to speak then closed it once more. Her mind had gone blank as quickly as her heart rate had increased. She couldn’t stop staring at her husband who had always been so much more than she had anticipated. She saw the hesitation in his eyes, the slight panic that hadn’t left him since.

One kiss had changed the trajectory of their relationship.

And this was going to be the one thing that unraveled them both at the seams. 

“You’re my mate.” she whispered again, still in disbelief and Eris nodded. 

His throat bobbed as she said the words once more and the flame that had engulfed them finally disappeared. “Yes.” he confirmed again, watching her chest rise and fall, her beautiful eyes blinking rapidly as she processed. 

“You’re — you’re —”

“Yes.” he said as his thumb caressed the column of her neck softly. “It seems you and I were always destined to meet… and be a little more.”

Iris couldn’t help but think about how much of an understatement that was. She could only think of everything he had just told her, of the loneliness they had both drowned in for years. Only to find their way to each other in a faith-forgotten land — in a place meant to snuff them both out. 

“You knew for hours,” she finally found herself saying. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

She watched his expression dim at her question and after everything he had already shared, Iris hadn’t expected the uncertainty on his face at this.

“I wanted to. I was going to before Finn interrupted.” he said quietly. 

His words from earlier flashed in her mind. 

“I’m terrified to tell you.”

“Because…you are something I had not anticipated. Because you never wanted this. You never wanted me.” he had said quietly. “And I am…overwhelmed by this thing between us.”

And all at once, Iris felt herself soften and a deep, painful ache unfurled in her chest. 

“Of all the things that happened today, this is what you’d been most hesitant to share with me?” she asked quietly and the ache intensified when his throat bobbed again.

“We’ve barely started being something close to… normal.” he said tightly and slowly pulled back from her. “Everything between us has already been moving so fast. You’ve only started to feel safe with me and people don’t feel safe around me. But you —” His fists clenched at his sides. “You do.”

“I - I do.” Iris said softly. “And this seems to be worrying you more than anything.”

“Because now this is another thing I’m shoving at you.” he said through clenched teeth. “Tying you to me and this fucked up family forever —”

Her brows went up as she watched him. “Eris —”

Eris couldn’t look at her as he shook his head and then quietly said, “I have spent my whole life guarding all that I am from everyone. And you came into my life and made me…crave. Want.” He waved a hand almost helplessly. “Being mates is just another thing thrown at you. And I don’t have it in me if you don’t…want me this way. If it’s only a bond making you stay. Tolerating me.”

Iris wondered if he could feel her heart break at the confession. Had no one ever seen how afraid he was? How alone?

“You seem to forget,” she began gently. “That I had nothing before you.” 

Eris glanced at her as she took a step toward him. “This may not have been a choice for either of us in the beginning but…we made a choice to try together,” she said. “You and I decided we wanted to make this work and that was before any bond came to light.” She shrugged her shoulders almost helplessly. “I’d like to think I’m not still here because you’re just tolerating my presence.”

“No.” he said immediately and Iris tried not to smile at the scowl that followed his quick response or at the way the tip of his ears turned red. “I — I —”

Iris mustered a small, teasing smile. “You have so many feelings for me, don’t you?”

His scowl deepened. “If you haven’t picked up on that by now, I’m going to open the window and fling myself out of it.” he snapped, and Iris bit back another smile. “Obviously I like you.”

“Ah, a swoon-worthy confession if I’ve ever heard one.” she said as color bloomed on her cheeks at his reluctant confirmation. “Having feelings must be so difficult for you.” 

“I hate every single thing that is happening to me at this moment.” he said through clenched teeth and Iris couldn’t help the strained chuckle that escaped her. 

“Really?” she asked and moved in front of him again. “Even if I tell you that I… obviously like you too?”

Eris pursed his lips, his face heating. He knew his insecurities had nearly suffocated him today — especially at this moment. But those words sent a warm feeling fluttering in his chest. Eris knew Iris…liked him. And yet. 

Very few people openly claimed to enjoy having him around. He needed to hear her say these things.

“You seem surprisingly calm about all of this.” he said, his shoulders tensing as she watched him, pink coloring her cheeks. 

“Shocked and calm are two very different things.” she said with a knowing look and Eris couldn’t help the way his lips twitched at the words. “I’m still…processing. So maybe I’ll lose my mind tomorrow and you can be shocked and calm about it then.”

He snorted. “Should I offer you my condolences?” he added and though it was a joke, she heard the tension in his tone. “That I’m the one you’re fated with? That you’re truly stuck with me now?”

Iris shook her head and with a breath, her hands grasped his. This male who was burdened with so much, whose deep-rooted fear of remaining alone in it nearly suffocated him. Of being left alone in this life. He had been expecting her to react differently. 

And had it been a few weeks ago, Iris would’ve run. She would’ve done anything not to be tied down to the Eris everyone thought they knew. 

But now? It was…a sense of relief that Iris felt. She was relieved that the person who cared, who made her feel was the one fate wanted her to be with. That the person she may not have initially chosen as a partner was the only partner she wanted. Iris was certainly calmer than she expected because of how right it felt. How much it made sense. 

Any resistance Iris had felt towards him in the beginning, had been chipped away long before a mating bond changed anything. And he felt the same way. He wanted her. And he wouldn’t leave. 

“I’m afraid I should be offering you my condolences.” she said with a small, sad smile and Eris’s brows furrowed.

“Why would you say that?”

“I don’t have much to offer you.” she said quietly. Especially as a mate. Especially if she thought about who he previously wanted to wed; how could she compare to the power of the Morrigan or what Nesta Archeron had offered him? What could she, who had nothing, give to someone who already had everything? 

She glanced away from him. “You’ve given me so much in the time we’ve been together and I don’t know that I — 

But Eris had cut her off by firmly gripping her chin to force her to meet his gaze. “Do not finish that statement,” he said. “You’ve offered me more than you already know.”

She had offered him companionship and soft hands. A relationship where he wasn’t waiting for the other shoe to drop. Where understanding and a little room for kindness were the only requirements.

He forced himself to swallow and hold her gaze as his hand dropped to hold hers. “You offered me a space to be something more than what I’ve been obligated to be for years.” he continued softly. “You have no idea what you’ve offered me.” 

“And is it — am I enough?” came her whispered question.

“Am I?” he asked in return. “Even if staying with me — being my mate, would likely never bring you peace?”

Husband and wife shared a glance and without saying a word, the answer stood between them and a slow, steady tension filled the room: the confession, the realization hanging heavy between them.

Iris glanced down at their hands. “Eris,” she said softly then let out another breath as she glanced back at him. “Being with you is the first time I’ve ever known what peace could look like.”

Eris scoffed weakly, his voice tight as he asked, “How can you say that living here? With all that you know now? With everything to come?”

Iris shook her head slowly, her expression almost helpless. “You bring me ease. You make me feel safe.” she said, flushing deeply at her confession. “Anything outside of us…I think we can manage that together. As best as we can, we can fight for that peace.”

Eris felt that ache of self-loathing in his chest. “How can you say I bring you peace when already, we have to fight so hard for it?”

Iris hesitated, her expression cautious.“Aren’t all the important things worth fighting for?” she asked quietly, and when Eris’s expression tightened, she continued, “You have shared so much with me today and I know that hasn’t been easy. I know everything between us hasn’t been easy either and while I don’t know if I’m ready to fully accept a mating bond yet…” She licked her lips and met his gaze, the flush on her cheeks giving away the shyness she felt. “I do know that I want whatever this is with you. I know that I have accepted you.” 

Eris’s head dipped at her words and he tried not to let the visceral relief he felt show, tried not to let it bring him to his knees. They could work on a mating bond. They still needed time for that and Eris would give her all the time in the world as long as she accepted him. As long as she wanted him.

“I know there’s much we have to figure out together,” he said, a slight edge to his tone. “And I know we will need more time but —” 

“Tomorrow.” She said, silencing him with a hand to his lips and his brows furrowed as he watched her. Iris gave him a small smile and slowly, without taking her eyes off Eris, she walked him back to their bed and gently pushed him to sit. “It’s been a long day. Let’s worry about everything else tomorrow and instead focus on just you and me tonight.” 

“Just you and me.” he repeated and Iris nodded as she stood before him.

All the panic, all the hurt and pain and anger that they had dealt with tonight, all of it seemed to deflate at the simple words. All of it faded away. 

She let a finger gently caress his face and wondered if Eris could hear how wildly her heart was beating as he shuddered beneath her touch. That she, of all people, could make Eris Vanserra shudder — could make him feel.

Her husband had many faces and played many roles but in the end, the most important one was the one that looked at her like she held his world in her hands. The face that was begging deep, deep down to be seen and loved.

They may not have been each other’s choice in the beginning, but they would be each other’s choice from now until they were no more. He was hers in a way she had never dreamed anyone would be and Iris would take care of what was hers. She would take care of his bleeding heart. 

There was so much left to discover between them, so much to see but tonight would be a new start for them both. 

“You and I are used to hands that beat down. That break.” she started quietly. “And maybe everything we went through was so that when we met, we’d understand.”

Eris felt his chest threatening to cave in at the way she looked at him, as though she could see right through him. “Understand what?” he forced himself to ask and the corner of her mouth ticked up.

“That there are hands that hurt and hands that heal. That soothe.” Iris continued, her voice a whisper. “That those hands can be your person and your peace, if given the chance.”

Gods, he was going to throw up. And Eris tried not to show it – tried not to make it too obvious what this day, what this conversation was doing to him. 

“Is that what I am now?” he said, attempting humor that didn’t last when he continued, “Your person?”

Iris gave him a half-smile, feeling her heart spasm at the tiny crack in his voice she hadn’t missed. “Among other things apparently,” she said, her thumb grazing his cheek. “If that doesn’t affect your delicate sensibilities, of course.”

A small chuckle escaped him. “Of course. As long as you being mine doesn’t affect yours.”

“Is that what I am now? Yours?” she teased gently and he shot her a look that had her chuckling. “Careful now, husband, it sounds like you’re very enamored with me.”

Eris forced himself to roll his eyes, feeling heat spread through him at her words – her gaze – her touch. “Oh wife,” he said and sighed without taking his eyes off her. “I am so very enamored.” 

Her lips twitched and Iris leaned in to place a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth then held his gaze as she slid to sit next to him.

And a thrill went through her at the way Eris watched her, his gaze curious, possessive — with a hunger that Iris felt deep in her soul. It overwhelmed her. This feeling of being wanted. Needed. 

Nobody had ever needed her. But Eris did. 

They were starved for a safe touch, for a connection that was only theirs. 

She wasn’t sure how much he needed but if the ache in his gaze matched the depth of her own, Iris wanted to give what he needed – what she wanted. A kiss to soothe. A gentle touch of a hand. To see and be seen. 

“This is strange.” she whispered. 

“Very.” Eris agreed. 

“I’m not quite sure where to go from here.” 

Eris watched her lovely face, clocking the slight hesitation – the little space between them. He opened his palm and the corner of her mouth ticked up as she slid her hand in his. 

“That depends.” he said and she furrowed her brows. “Are you feeling dramatic or tired?”

“Dramatic?” Iris asked with an amused expression and Eris couldn’t help the twitch of his lips.

“Elain didn’t speak to Lucien for three years when she found out they were mates. I’d like to prepare myself if that’s the route you’re planning to take.” 

Iris snorted then nodded to her right. “I was thinking more so to take your suggestion of leaping out of the window instead.” 

And after everything this day had put him through, it should’ve shocked Eris that he could laugh. Even if it was a quiet chuckle. It should’ve rocked his world that he felt lighter sitting here next to the female who had been a stranger to him not too long ago than he had ever felt in his life.

His hand found its way to her cheek and the cracked pieces of his heart shook when she leaned into his hand, her hand wrapping gently around his wrist to hold him, to anchor them both to this moment.

Mates. Mates. Mates. Mates.

It was a melody that wrapped itself around them – a symphony of emotions, too many to process.

Where did they go from here? He swallowed. If it was up to the carnal desires coursing through him at the sight of her and the bond chafing at his skin, Eris would’ve already been buried in her. They would be sharing the pleasures of being mates.

But he couldn’t. Not when he wasn’t in full control of his emotions. Not when he could hurt her in his greed. Not when the thought of his skin touching another person made him want to set himself on fire.

The version of himself before Iris might’ve succumbed just to feel something. Who he was trying to shape himself into now needed more.

Eris licked his lips, hesitating for a moment. He was not used to asking anything of anyone —  did not like the feeling of needing anything from anyone but…

For the second time in a matter of hours, he confessed what he usually kept buried. 

“I am so tired of all this.” he murmured. “Being in this place. Dealing with everything outside of this room.”

Iris’s expression fell, her chest tightening at the words. “I know.” she whispered. “Let’s rest easy. Let me be here with you.” 

Eris licked his lips again, the heat of embarrassment coursing through him at the way he wanted to sink into her words, sink into her arms, and allow just that.

He’d allow himself to sink into her kisses. Neither of them had to say anything. His eyes held the question and Iris answered by leaning closer. 

Holding her face with a tender touch, he kissed his wife. His lips brushed hers in greeting and slowly, Eris let himself go. He kissed her and let every other moment of this day wash away, focusing only on the feeling of her lips, the heat of her body next to his, and the soft noises she made.

“Eris.” she whispered against his lips and Eris couldn’t help but deepen the kiss as she opened for him, a hand running through her hair and down her back. His mouth moved to taste more of her, kissing her jawline and sliding to her neck, his tongue darting out for a taste then back to her teasing mouth to swallow those little noises he loved so much.

 He wanted — he needed —

Turning his body into hers, his hands tangled themselves into her hair, a noise he could only describe as hungry slipping from his mouth into hers and he shuddered when he felt her fingertips skimming across his skin and up his arms. 

A hand slid from her hair and wrapped around her throat, his grip tightening gently and Eris intended to pull her closer, devour her further — but Iris had stiffened beneath his grip and so had he when he felt her fingers dig into his back. A snarl slipped from his throat as a sharp breath slipped from her lips and Iris ripped his hand away and pulled back, nearly shoving him off the bed as he pulled away from her.

“No.” they snapped in unison and then froze, his hands raised away from her as Iris’s own hand covered her neck, their breathing shallow. 

“Not — don’t — don’t hold me like that.” she stuttered.

A tense silence stretched between them, anxiety skating down Eris’s spine and his chest tightened at the expression on her face. At the slight panic she was trying to hide that mirrored his own. At the tense caution, waiting for him to react. As if he’d be upset. As if he didn’t immediately understand why she reacted that way. As if he hadn’t reacted the same way snarling at her like an animal. 

And it crushed him because he could hear the fast beating of her heart in line with his own. He didn’t realize it would bother him. He – he liked her touch. Gods, he wanted her to touch him but not – not –

He straightened, his hands falling to his lap as guilt and embarrassment tore at him. This was exactly why he wouldn’t let himself go further tonight. “I didn’t realize it would bother you.” he finally said quietly. “I didn’t think. I’m sorry.”

“It’s — it’s okay.” she managed, her face flushed and Iris tried to hide her own embarrassment at the moment being interrupted by her hands and her reaction.

“No, it’s not,” Eris said firmly, a muscle feathering in his jaw as he watched her. “I don’t want to do anything you don’t like or touch you in a way that makes you uncomfortable. You are always safe with me.” 

She felt her heart flutter at the words. Safe. Since that first night together, she had wondered if safe would be her reality with him. 

“I know.” she said then swallowed, slowly bringing both hands back to settle in her lap and calm her breathing.  “I’m – I”m sorry for touching your back. My hands just slipped. I didn’t think.” 

Eris shook his head. “It’s – it’s fine.” he muttered. “I told you, you can always touch me…I didn’t think I would…react that way.” 

Iris bit her lip. “I – I didn’t expect to feel that way either.” Her gaze dropped to her hands. “You’ve held me by the back of my neck before and I — I liked it. And I like it when you kiss my neck.”

His hold never hurt. His lips were always so soft on her skin. It made her forget her father’s hand. 

“But no hands wrapped around your throat.” he confirmed gently. 

“Not – not yet.” she whispered and Eris’s mouth curled softly, causing Iris’s flush to deepen.

“Not yet?” he asked and carefully, slowly, raised his hand to brush a strand of her hair back.

She licked her lips. She had thought a lot about his hands and what she’d imagine he’d do with them. Her flush deepened as he gave her a knowing look.

“I…like the idea of your hands on my throat.” Iris confessed shyly. “But for now…”

“Kisses only?” he suggested and after a breath, she nodded, watching his face. 

She hadn’t meant to react that way, hadn’t even thought it would bother her. Until he squeezed and it triggered another hand on her throat. A hand she hated more than anything and Iris wished she had let Eris wipe him from existence so her father wouldn’t ruin more moments for her. 

Her husband only watched her calmly and as he did, Iris felt her shoulders start to relax, her body calming. Eris gave her a small smile.

“Kissing is one of my favorite things to do,” he said. “Especially when your skin tastes like heaven.” 

Iris couldn’t help the weak chuckle that escaped her lips and leaned in to rest her head against his shoulder gently. His hands immediately tightened around her and she felt her chest ache.

A few moments of silence passed before Iris sat back and met his gaze once more. 

“I’m sorry for ruining the moment.” Iris said quietly, her fingers tracing the scattered freckles on his shoulder. 

Eris’s expression flattened and he gave her a hard look. “You ruined nothing,” he said firmly, his hand sliding down her back and back up absently, soothingly. “We were both caught up in the moment.”

Iris shook her head gently. “It’s alright. We’re…figuring it out.” she said quietly then slowly leaned in to shyly kiss the corner of his mouth. “Is your back the only place I shouldn’t touch yet?” 

He felt his wretched heart skip at her question and Eris was already on the edge of a heart attack just with this conversation alone. He wanted her to touch him everywhere. Every surface of his skin to replace any touch before hers. 

“For now.” he only said and she nodded slowly. She watched him as he watched her and Iris would never get over how she had the power to make the Prince of Autumn blush. 

He seemed to struggle with his next words and Iris waited, knowing just how hard this night had been for him.

“Will you lay with me?” he finally asked quietly and Iris blinked at the request, then nodded with a small smile, a light flush in her cheeks.

They let go, their hands reluctantly separating as the two moved to rest on their respective sides of the bed but they couldn’t keep their eyes off each other. There was something in the casualness of the movement, in the routine of them shifting around their bedroom that built a sensual tension between them. 

Until Iris clocked Eris’s stiff movements as he tried to get comfortable on his stomach. He tried to hide how worn out his body was — didn’t want to see the way her expression dropped again even if it made his stupid heart skip a beat, to know that he had someone who worried about him like this. Who could ease these moments for him. And Eris tried not to break when instead of saying anything, Iris silently moved a pillow for him to place it beneath him.

He could only nod in gratitude, color marking his face as he slowly settled in and glanced at her, silently lifting his arm, waiting for her to slide into the space next to him. 

Iris glanced at him for a moment as a silly sense of shyness crawled its way into her chest and she bit her lip. 

“Are you sure?” she whispered and Eris quirked a brow at the question. 

“I like it when you’re close,” he murmured and Iris heard the unspoken sentence to follow those words, saw it in his eyes, what he really wanted to say, I need you close.

A heartbeat passed, and then Iris allowed herself to sink into his side with that small, shy smile. 

Eris pulled her into him and a shuttered breath slipped out of her lips at their closeness, at the careful way he held her, and gods, she knew her heart was beating so fast. 

All of the other times he had held her or touched her…she knew that this time, it felt different. A new awareness sat between them; the hands of fate rested over them. She wished now more than ever the earlier touching hadn’t caused such a panic.

Iris adjusted herself, turning on her side so she could watch him as he always watched her. 

Mate. Her mate. 

The revelation made her skin tingle as they sat in silence and she still, to this moment, wasn’t sure it was real. “Are you feeling alright?” she asked, scanning his expression for any signs of discomfort. “Do you want me to get you more of the healing ointment?”

Eris only gave her a short smile. “I’m fine.” he said but Iris shot him a look that made the corner of his mouth twitch. “Exhausted. But fine.” His brows furrowed as he watched her face. “Are you alright?”

“I’m more worried about you.”

Eris grunted in response, the hand wrapped around her waist moving to slide slowly up her back. “I’ll be fine. So stop looking at me like that or I really will fling myself out the window.” he said and Iris pursed her lips.

“I’m not allowed to be worried about you? You’re my husband.”

“And a little more than that too.”

As it fell silent between them once more, Iris felt her heartbeat speed up at his tone. That low, sultry tone. 

What was going to happen now? Clearly, things had escalated. Where did that leave them? What did that mean for them outside of this room? Do they tell anyone? How long would they wait to solidify their bond? How soon did she want to? 

Her eyes fell to his bare shoulder, the arm wrapped around her feeling heavier. His shoulders bore such a burden and now she was another one added to the list. Another person he had to protect. How could she help him? How could she ease his struggle instead of causing more of it? 

How long would it take him to start resenting that, even as her mate?

“Iris?”

She blinked and met his gaze as he assessed her. Iris let her eyes roam, focusing first on his bare chest, then resting on his collarbone. She let a hand tentatively slide to trace the bare skin of his shoulder carefully.

“Maybe…Maybe I am being too calm about this.” she whispered and Eris gave her an amused look.

“Are you going to run away screaming now?” he said. “I’ll be a gentleman and give you a headstart.” 

Iris snorted softly. “Chase me until the bitter end, hm?” she said and met his gaze, the look he gave her heating her skin. 

“Oh, absolutely. The chase is the fun part.” 

She tried to chuckle but her expression fell instead. Now that they were mates, tied in a way that couldn’t be changed, that mattered more than anything else…the weight of it all grew heavier. Iris realized how she’d tensed when his hand had slid from her waist to brush up and down her back, soothingly.

“A question for a question.” he murmured and Iris glanced at him, the corner of her mouth curling up.

“A question for a question.” she repeated.

“Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“That’s less of a question and more of a demand, husband.”

“What’s on your mind, oh smartass wife of mine?” he corrected with a teasing tone.

Iris looked away with a small chuckle before sighing softly. “Too many things, if I’m being honest.”

“Such as?”

Iris bit her lip again then frowned. She didn’t want him worrying any more than he already did. They’d – they’d take it day by day. It would be fine. They were in this together.

And yet, she couldn’t help her question.

“Don’t you think this is…crazy?” she said quietly. “A few months ago we were complete strangers…what are the odds of us meeting the way we did?”

Eris gave a slow shrug. “Fate is a funny thing. It is the one thing we cannot escape,” he said. “I barely thought marriage was for me and yet…here we are.”

Iris hummed and then silence fell once more between them. There were so many thoughts swirling in her mind. She wasn’t sure which to ask first. 

“Will we…tell anyone?”

Eris’s expression hardened, his grip tightening on her waist briefly. “I would rather we kept it between us for as long as possible. I can only imagine how much worse my father will make things if he finds out what you are to me.”

Iris bit her lip. “What about your mother?”

She watched as Eris stiffened slightly then let out a sigh. “I’m sure she’s sensed it for a while. I wouldn’t put it past her.” he said but glanced at Iris. “But yes. I do want to tell her.”

“I’m alright with that.”

Eris paused for a moment, glancing away from Iris before clearing his throat and shifting slightly to meet her gaze once more. “Lucien knows.”

Iris blinked. “He does? Since when?”

He nodded, hoping his fidgeting wasn’t too noticeable. “When we visited them…outside, during our conversation,” he said. “I may have been overwhelmed and shared more than I intended.”

Iris blinked again. “I see.”

“Does that bother you?” he asked quietly and Iris bit the inside of her cheek as she watched him, thinking it over before shaking her head.

“No. If you trust Lucien, I trust Lucien.” she said and Eris nodded, swallowing his relief. 

“He’s one of the very few people that I do.” he continued. “That's why I’m glad I  told him. I wanted…I wanted to make sure you had somewhere safe outside this place. That should anything happen, you could go to him.”

Iris felt her expression soften. “Eris…”

Though he shrugged, Eris knew the heat rising on his face gave away his true feelings. “I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t have a plan for everything.”

Iris chuckled softly. “You had a plan for everything except me.” 

His chuckle echoed hers. “You did throw a very big wrench into my plans.” he agreed and she flipped him off half-heartedly, earning her another chuckle. “I never said I was complaining.”

“How could you? I’m so lovely.” she said with a polite smile that made him snort. 

“Yes, especially when threatening to stab me. What else could I have asked for?”

Iris couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “This does seem awfully convenient for you.” she mused. “Wife and mate all in one package.”

“For you as well, I’d wager.” He said with a smirk. “I am very rich and well-endowed.”

She swatted his chest gently. “Not to mention incredibly humble. Don’t be crass.” 

He couldn’t help the chuckle and squeezed her waist again, marveling at the fact that he could laugh at anything after this day. “We are well past me being crass. You should know better by now.” he said sagely. “So if you’re thinking about leaving me, it’s too late I’m afraid.”

Iris sighed playfully. “Who knew you’d be so clingy? I mean, one kiss sent you into a spiral, who knows once we’ve done more what you’ll be like? I’m never going to get rid of you.” Her cheeks flushed in delight at his laugh and she couldn’t help her own chuckle.  

“Thinking about doing more with me, are you?” he asked, his voice dropping in a way that made Iris’s heartbeat quicken. 

“Maybe.”

He sighed rather dramatically then deadpanned, “And the saga of maybes continues.” 

Iris’s laugh was muffled as she hid her face. And maybe it was his hand resting against the silk of her robe or his teasing words or the now acknowledged mating bond between them that she remembered his earlier request and met his gaze shyly again.

“Do you remember what you requested before you left?”

Eris quirked a brow, the corner of his mouth curling up. “I do.” he said quietly. “Don’t tell me this is the one time you’ve decided to listen?”

Her chuckle was a little breathless and Iris could only bring herself to nod. Eris groaned, closing his eyes and Iris couldn’t help her soft laugh.

“I did say it was under consideration.” she said. 

His hand seemed heavier on her back and Eris opened his eyes once more, his gaze unreadable as he watched her. 

“Do you remember our first night together? When you helped me with my dress?” she whispered. 

“How could I forget?” he murmured. “I think about my hands touching your bare skin too often for my own good.”

Iris flushed. “I – I think about your hands touching my bare skin all the time.” she said. 

“Do you now?”

“Unfortunately.”

“What a disgusting habit you picked up there, wife.”

“I did learn from the best, husband.” 

  Eris’s lips twitched at her response and without looking away, his hand slid down her curves to settle on her upper thigh, his thumb toying with the slit of her robe. “Oh, the things I want to teach you, mate.” he said, his voice velvet sin, and Iris couldn’t help but shudder, heat pooling low in her belly at his tone, at the way the word mate tugged deep inside her. 

Gods, she wanted him to touch her so badly. They could handle brief, light touches, could they not?

And he must’ve seen the desire in her gaze because slowly, as if giving her room to protest if she wanted to, Eris slid his hand beneath her robe, making contact with the smooth skin of her bare thigh.

Eris heard her intake of breath and tried not to tremble stupidly as his thumb caressed her skin. He tried to breathe easily, his gaze not wavering from hers as he squeezed her upper thigh gently. 

“If this day had gone differently,” he began, his voice low. “My reaction to this conversation would have a different outcome.” 

“Oh?”

His only confirmation was a grunt as his hand squeezed her thigh again then greedily slid up to the curve of her ass and Iris bit back a moan when he slid his hand over her lace undergarment and squeezed again before sliding back down to her thigh. 

“Do you – do you want me to take off the robe?” she whispered and his gaze turned molten.

His mind had already conjured image upon image of how quickly he’d rip any layer between them. How he’d feast on her and gods, would he fuck her. Too easily could he picture how she’d look coming all over his cock. How’d she feel over him and under him and touching him. He could almost taste her. And every time he thought about it, it was everything they both wanted and more. 

But he also knew what trying to have sex right now would be like for him. It would be rough and hard and ruin anything they had built between them because he knew he’d lose control. He was still too tense and for years, sex had always been something empty for him. Something that made him feel meaningless – a moment of fleeting pleasure and nothing more.  He didn’t want that with Iris. His wife — his mate deserved better. 

And if anyone else knew that Eris had hesitated at her question, they’d consider him ill. He had half a mind to get his head checked anyway but knew deep in his tired bones that tonight wouldn’t grant either of them justice. This bond was delicate between them. It was sacred and he’d be damned if, at this significance of a moment between them, he ruined it by thinking with the wrong head. By accidentally hurting her in his haste. Especially after her earlier reaction.

He could be patient. His self-control was a practiced art. 

 So Eris shook his head and chuckled when Iris narrowed her eyes at him. “I can’t take what I want from you tonight, even if you’re willing.” he said.

“Who are you and what have you done with the male I married?” she joked and his lips twitched once more.

“He’s still very much here, plotting sinister and despicable things to do to you,” he replied and Iris bit back a smile that faded when his own expression sobered. His fingers continued to skim her bare skin beneath the robe. “I don’t have it in me to handle more tonight,” he muttered, feeling his face heat at his confession. “So you’re safe with me. This…this is enough.”

And because they were two sides of the same coin, Iris understood. She understood that his skin needed only the softest of touches the way hers did for a while, that he could only tolerate so much of it in one night. 

Iris nodded and then bit her lip, assessing his expression as they glanced at each other. He had laid all his armor at her feet today but he had been giving her pieces of him from the moment she met him. 

She would do the same. She wanted all of him the way he had always wanted all of her — piece by piece.

“You’re safe with me too, you know that, right?” she said and Eris’s brows furrowed. “I’m on your side. I’m here with you.”

Eris felt his insides crumble, his expression falling. What had he done to deserve such a statement? 

“Don’t – don’t say things like that to me.” he whispered and Eris felt himself near a cardiac arrest when her expression softened and she pulled him even closer to her. 

“Why not?” she whispered back, and slowly, as if giving him time to protest if he wished, she brought his body to rest half over hers.

And Eris watched her face as his body rested over hers, drinking in her expression and the trust he found there. The shy caution. Every inch touching and the frantic beating of her heart threatened to send his own heart into overdrive. He felt himself about to burn from the inside out. As though being touched and kissed by her lit a fuse inside him and he couldn’t take his eyes off her as Iris’s hands grazed the back of his neck. Gently. Tenderly.

Gods. Was this what he’d been waiting for his whole life? Were these feelings what had been missing? 

“Iris.” he whispered her name, a plead. A prayer. 

Iris gazed at him, her expression filled with an emotion he couldn’t place. An emotion he couldn't even handle to think about. 

“What do you need to make tonight easier for you?” she said, repeating her question from earlier in the evening, her voice a whisper.

Eris blinked and then he barely could get enough air in his lungs. His mouth parted and the Prince of Autumn couldn't understand why the question knocked the wind out of him. After everything that had happened today, his needs were the last thing on his mind. It…it surprised him to be asked. For a second time, his wife, whom he’d only known for such a short amount of time, asked him what he needed. 

No one ever asked Eris what he needed. He was…he hadn’t been in the right headspace when she asked him earlier but now…to be asked once more…he was touched by her question.  

No one has asked him so bluntly before. No one focused on what he needed. 

And what did he need?

Her.

Need was too light of a word when it came to her. It was a want — a depthless craving to have her everywhere. Her scent overwhelmed him, her body pressed into him with his arm draped over her just like this. The answer was simpler than he had anticipated. Simply…Iris.

Gentler than Eris had ever thought to touch someone before, he brought a hand to her cheek. 

It was dangerous to admit his needs, especially to the person who now held his world in the palm of her hand. And yet, he couldn’t stop the words as they slipped out, “Just you. Right here.”

The corner of Iris’s mouth curled up, flushing at the words. She shifted slightly so their legs were now tangled as he settled comfortably over her and she held him. 

“I think that’s doable.”

Eris’s chuckle slid against her skin as gooseflesh erupted on her skin and she held her breath when he leaned in closer, his nose brushing hers.

“We can decide what to do with this mating bond between us and discuss it to death tomorrow and on,” he began and Iris shifted as his voice dropped. “But come what may, Iris, as of tonight, I am yours. And you are mine. Do you understand?”

The world around them seemed to halt at the words and Iris could feel the shift in the air at his claiming. She felt herself flush deeper and the bond between them went taut as her husband stared at her and she at him, watching, feeling his chest rise and fall. 

There would be no going back to dancing around their feelings after tonight.

“I am yours. And you…are mine.” she repeated, her grip tightening around him and Eris nipped at the corner of her mouth as he whispered,

“Mine.” 

And they sank into each other with slow kisses, the touch of their hands reverent. Every thought, every moment outside of their lips touching slipped away and husband and wife were left with only each other. The weight of tomorrow and everything after pushed away for this one night.

A night where the only thing tethering the Prince of Autumn to this world, was her.  

[girl4music]

Xena’s the best off-the-wall fantasy show ever. Want to know why? Xena is a show that’s set in Ancient Greece. In one episode they had electric guitars and multi-coloured strobe lights without any explanation at all. This episode also happened to be a musical to popular 90’s music and Xena and the villain did a rap battle. Xena also played her theme on a guitar (lyre).

People stop asking for fantasy shows to be historically accurate. The whole fun of it is that it’s not. So stop.

[ameagrice]

Capsize

chapter thirty | fine line

percy jackson x fem reader

There are silver streaks shared by Annabeth and Percy, scattered through their hair.

It’s something that will connect them forever, you know for certain. It’s a symbol of a shared strength.

It’s just one more thing to make your heart melt.

Realistically, you should feel nothing but proud of them both, and in your own way, you do. But there has been too much loss to feel any sort of good from the ending, and you can’t get Zoe Nightshade’s death from your mind.

“I can see the stars, my lady,” she whispered, so gently you’d barely heard her at all. The wound on her side gaped, and bled, the golden ichor of an immortal on her way out. An inch of a smile appeared on her face, struggling, before it dropped, and the light faded from Zoe Nightshade’s eyes. A wisp of silvery light lifted from her lips, drifting up into the air, before it, too, faded.

In the sky, the stars showed an image of a girl, running across the sky. Zoe Nightshade had, finally, found her peace.

Atlas was in his rightful place. His daughter had been stolen from the world. Luke Castellan was kicked to his death by Thalia’s action.

Except, they couldn’t find a body.

Body, upon body, upon body. They just kept piling up.

Bianca; Zoe; Luke. Lost lives; people who could have had so much more than they were given.

But Gods who couldn’t care any less.

And if you had to, you’d bet they didn’t even know their names.

You could see now, just why Luke was so angry. Because you felt it too. And it was terrifying.

“You don’t believe me about Luke,” Annabeth said, sounding faded amongst your thoughts. “We’ll see him again. He’s just under Kronos’s spell.”

Thalia jolted away, somehow seemingly unbothered by the height at which you travelled in the sky, Artemis in the lead. “There it is,” she pointed, sitting up. “It’s started.”

“What’s started?” Percy leaned forward, catching your hair between his hand on the seat he held onto. You didn’t say anything.

High above the Empire State Building, Olympus was its own island of light. A mountain ablaze with torches and braziers.

“The Winter Solstice,” she breathed. “The Council of the Gods.”

In the early-morning darkness, torches and fires made the mountainside palaces glow twenty different colors, from bloodred to indigo. Apparently no one ever slept on Olympus. The twisting streets were full of demigods and nature spirits and minor godlings bustling about, riding chariots or sedan chairs carried by Cyclopes. Winter didn’t seem to exist here. The scent of the gardens in full bloom, jasmine and roses and even sweeter filled your senses. Music drifted up from many windows, the soft sounds of lyres and reed pipes.

Towering at the peak of the mountain was the greatest palace of all, the glowing white hall of the gods.

You touched ground outside towering, silver gates, just inside the courtyard. Pegasi travel was rather terrifying, and you were much more than glad to be alive and on the ground. Olympus glowed with warm, the kind that settled in your bones. The warm wind, blowing from nowhere, shifted your hair when you clambered down to the ground.

“Yeah,” Percy muttered.

“Huh?”

Percy froze. “Uh—the horse. Sorry! Pegasi.”

A laugh escaped you, startling in the night. Thalia turned, eyebrow raised. “Why are you talking to a horse? It didn’t say anything.”

“Didn’t I tell you? Haven’t I told you?” He averted his gaze.

“What,” you landed your hand on your hip, waving the other to the pegasi. “You talk to animals now, too, like Grover?”

“Just sea creatures. And horses. Pegasi, sorry!”

“Yeah, you’ll really have to explain that later,” you trailed off. “We’ve got more important matters at hand.”

The Pegasi flew off, leaving yourself, Percy, Thalia and your sister together. You liked to think, years later, laying on the glass floor of a ship, that you were all trying to gather the courage after everything to step inside the giant building, and face gods you had once only ever heard about in stories.

Side-by-side, you walked into the throne room.

Twelve enormous thrones made a U around a central hearth, just like the placement of the cabins at camp. The ceiling above glittered with constellations—even the newest one, Zoë the Huntress, making her way across the heavens with her bow drawn.

All of the seats were occupied. Each god and goddess was about fifteen feet tall. Under their judging eyes, despite your own mother being one of them, you were uncomfortable.

“Welcome, heroes,” Artemis said.

“Mooo!”

That was when you noticed Bessie and Grover, the latter standing at the side of a pool of water which Bessie swam in.

“Grover! You made it.”

He started to run towards your friends, then stopped, and looked back at Zeus, who up close, felt a lot scarier than he looked. You only realized then, that there was a major difference in terror of humans, and the intimidation of gods. You could deal with this kind.

“Go on,” Zeus nodded once. But he wasn’t looking at Grover—he was looking at Thalia.

None of the gods spoke. Grover’s hooves echoed on the marble floor, Bessie the Ophiotaurus mooing warmly at your arrival.

You took the time to observe the gods up close, because you might never get the chance to again. Artemis, looking as if she hadn’t ever even been hold hostage, watched the exchange between Percy and Grover. Percy’s father, Poseidon, dressed so casually you might have laughed in other circumstances, had this sort of barely-there smile on his face, bright eyes shining just the way Percy’s own did, too. Apollo, sunglasses covering his eyes, had his earbuds in, golden head of hair tilted back to the ceiling. And…

Ares. It was impossible to not feel him looking at you. Why the special interest, you wanted to ask. Do you see yourself in me? You wondered. Do I see myself in you?

Your eyes met his dark ones, a stark difference, between the extreme fatigue, and the colors. Your eyes burned with exhaustion and the tears you had shed since yesterday. He wore his signature black leather jacket, dark, dark hair being tousled by Aphrodite’s touch. When it was obvious her husband wasn’t looking at her, perched at his side, her love-ridden smile slowly fell away, and those sparkling eyes fell on you as well.

Or maybe it’s you, I see myself in. Too romantic. Too caught up in feelings. After all, you only had so much love to spare between friends, and the dead ones.

What do you see in me? You were desperate to ask, curiosity clawing at your chest. Why am I the way I am?

Gods sometimes took a special interest in heroes. All the tales told you so. You just had to wonder, what would come of this.

Ragged and bruised, you felt as though you were being picked apart under the watchful eyes of so many olympians.

You hadn’t realized Grover was doing the rounds until he yanked you into a hug. You found it in yourself to hug him back—at least he was still alive.

“Glad you made it,” you whispered.

“You too.” He nodded. Neither of you smelled amazing after this quest, but it went uncared for. A trouble shared is a trouble deeply understood.

“You have to convince them,” he said to the remaining four of you. “They can’t do it!”

“Do what?” You blinked.

“Heroes,” Artemis called. The goddess slid down from her throne and turned to human size, a young auburn-haired girl, perfectly at ease in the midst of the giant Olympians. She walked toward your little group, her silver robes shimmering. There was no emotion in her face. She seemed to walk in a column of moonlight.

“The Council has been informed of your deeds,” Artemis spoke loudly, addressing everyone in a steady, clear tone. “They know that Mount Othrys is rising in the West. They know of Atlas’s attempt for freedom, and the gathering armies of Kronos. We have voted to act.”

There was some mumbling and shuffling among the olympians, as if they weren’t all happy with this plan, but nobody protested.

“At my Lord Zeus’s command,” Artemis said, “my brother Apollo and I shall hunt the most powerful monsters, seeking to strike them down before they can join the Titans’ cause. Lady Athena shall personally check on the other Titans to make sure they do not escape their various prisons. Lord Poseidon has been given permission to unleash his full fury on the cruise ship Princess Andromeda and send it to the bottom of the sea. And as for you, my heroes…”

She turned to face the other immortals.

And that, was the moment you saw your mother for the first time.

Dressed in a beautiful white dress, draped over one shoulder, her eyes, as gray as your own, as gray as Annabeth’s appeared lost in thought. You took the chance to just look at the woman you never thought you would meet.

“I gotta say—” Apollo cleared his throat. “These heroes did okay.” He began to recite. “Heroes win laurels—”

“Um, yes, first class,” Hermes interrupted with a side-eye in his brother’s direction. You were unable to help the smirk. “All in favor of not disintegrating them?”

A few tentative hands went up: Aphrodite, Demeter, Apollo—waving his iPod.

“Hang on a minute,” Ares growled, sitting up on his throne. He pointed at Thalia and Percy, on the other side of Annabeth. “These two are dangerous. It’d be much safer, while we’ve got them here—”

Don’t say anything, you begged yourself. Even Annabeth elbowed you.

“Ares,” Poseidon interrupted. “They are worthy heroes. We will not blast my son to bits.”

“Nor my daughter,” grumbled Zeus. “She has done well.”

You leaned forward around your sister, who visibly shook, pale, in need of a lie down from the looks of things. Thalia blushed—you grinned wickedly. All the things you could do with this moment in the future.

Athena cleared her throat. Annabeth sighed. The goddess leaned forward. “I am proud of my daughters, as well. But I agree—there is a security issue with the other two.”

Annabeth elbowed you a little too late, this time.

“Mother!” You exclaimed.

Your heart dropped and splattered on the ground. Never had you addressed her as such. And never had she looked you in the face the way she did now.

Too late to back out, now.

“How can you just—”

Athena cut you off with a girl, but calm look. “It is unfortunate that my father, Zeus, and my uncle, Poseidon, chose to break their oath not to have more children. Only Hades kept his word, a fact that I find ironic. As we know from the Great Prophecy, children of the three elder gods…such as Thalia and Percy…are dangerous. As thickheaded as he is, Ares has a point.”

“Right!” Ares said. “Hey, wait a minute. Who you callin’—”

He started to get up, but a grape vine grew around his waist like a seat belt and pulled him back down.

“Oh, please, Ares,” Dionysus sighed. “Save the fighting for later.”

Ares cursed and ripped away the vine. “You’re one to talk, you old drunk. You seriously want to protect these brats?”

Dionysus gazed wearily. “I have no love for them. Athena, do you really think it wise to destroy them?”

“I do not pass judgement,” she said. “I only point out the risk. What we do, the Council must decide.”

“I will not have them punished,” Artemis cut in hotly. “I will have them rewarded. If we punish heroes who do us such a great favour, then we are no better than the titans, are we not? If this is Olympian justice, I will have none of it.”

“Calm down, sis,” Apollo scoffed. “Chill. Jeez, you need to lighten up.”

“Don’t call me sis! I will reward them!”

“Well, perhaps. But the monster must be destroyed. We have agreement on that?”

“Bessie?” Percy burst out. “You want to destroy Bessie?”

Your heart swelled. Gosh, he cared. It was lovely.

And then you wanted to slap yourself.

What was up with the emotions lately?

Poseidon frowned. “You have named the Ophiotaurus Bessie?”

“Dad,” Percy said. “He’s just a sea creature. A really nice sea creature. You can’t destroy him.”

Poseidon shifted uncomfortably, a trait Percy shared with him, you noted. “Percy, it’s power is considerable. If the titans were to steal it, or—”

“You can’t,” Percy insisted.

Zeus opened his mouth, looking as though he was getting antsier by the second. But you had experience with this sort of thing that needed a good negotiation, so you cut in.

“Controlling the prophecies never works. Isn’t that true?” You tried, stepping forward. All eyes landed on you, and you swallowed. “Have we not just experienced it? Are we not experiencing it now? The Ophiotaurus is innocent. Killing something like that is wrong. It’s as wrong as Kronos eating his children just because of something they might do.”

Zeus looked to be considering it. You breathed heavily, in a mild panic after consulting the king of the gods head on. If he wanted to, you could be zapped out of existence in less than a second.

“And what of the risk? Kronos knows full well, if one of you were to sacrifice the beast’s entrails you would have the power to destroy all of us. Do you think we can let this possibility remain? You, my daughter, will turn sixteen on the morrow, just as the prophecy says.”

“You have to trust them,” you tried, pleading with your eyes. “Please, you have to trust them.”

Zeus scowled. “Trust a hero?”

“She is right,” Artemis nodded slowly. “Which is why I must first make a reward. My faithful companion, Zoe Nightshade, has passed into the stars. I must have a new lieutenant. And I intend to choose one, but first, father Zeus, I must speak with you privately.”

Zeus beckoned Artemis forward, leaning to listen as she whispered to him.

“Annabeth,” Percy whispered from behind you. “Don’t.”

“What?”

“Look, I need to tell you something. I couldn’t stand it if—I don’t want you to—”

Artemis turned. “I will have a new lieutenant, if she will accept it. Thalia, daughter of Zeus, will you join the Hunt?”

Your jaw almost dropped. Stunned silence filled the room.

“I will,” Thalia said firmly. She moved to your side, and then a little bit further ahead. Confident.

Zeus rose, his eyes full of concern. “My daughter, consider well—”

Don’t let him change your mind, you prayed. Hold your ground.

“Father, I will not turn sixteen tomorrow,” she shook her head. “I will never turn sixteen. I won’t let this prophecy be mine. I stand with my sister Artemis. Kronos will not tempt me again.”

She knelt down before Artemis, and repeated the same words Bianca had uttered what felt like years ago at the cliff side in the snow and weary sunlight.

When she had finished, she hugged each of you and said a few words. You felt awkward, putting your hands into your coat pockets, when Thalia stood in front of you. For once, there was no spiteful comments from either one of you. She smiled small, looking rejuvenated the same way Bianca had, as if the quest had never happened.

“You’re a good friend,” she nodded. “You’re brave. You’ve got what it takes to help them with this prophecy.” And then she leaned in, and hugged you just as she had with Annabeth and Grover and Percy. “Trust yourself.”

Thalia went and stood with Artemis, and the atmosphere changed instantly.

“Now, for the Ophiotaurus.”

“The boy is still dangerous,” Mr. D. opposed. The beast is a temptation to great power. Even if we spare the boy—”

“No.” Percy said firmly. “Please. Keep the Ophiotaurus safe. My dad can hide him under the sea somewhere, or keep him in an aquarium here. But you have to protect him.”

“And why should we trust you?”

“I’m only fourteen. If this prophecy is about me, that’s only two more years.”

“Two years for Kronos to deceive you,” Athena uttered. “Much can change in two years, young hero. It is only the truth. It is bad strategy to keep the boy alive. And the animal.”

Poseidon stood. “I will not have the creature destroyed if I can help it. And I can, help it.”

He held out his hand, and a spear shimmering with blue light appeared. “I will vouch for the boy and the safety of the Ophiotaurus.”

“You won’t take it under the sea!” Zeus stood suddenly. “I won’t have that kind of bargaining chip in your possession.”

“Brother, please,” Poseidon sighed.

Zeus’s lightening bolt appeared in his hand, and the whole room filled with the smell of ozone.

“Fine,” Poseidon nodded. “I will build an aquarium for the sea creature here, with the help of Hephaestus. The creature will be safe. The boy will not betray us. I vouch for this on my honor.”

Zeus thought about it. “All in favor?”

A dozen hands went up, besides Mr. D, your mother’s, and Ares just sat looking bored.

“We have a majority. And so, since we are not destroying these heroes, I imagine we should reward them.”

—

There are parties, and then there are Olympian parties. And Olympian parties are filled with gold and beautiful colours, exotic flowers and the Muses music, braziers of fire, and delicious food and drinks. It became busy very quickly, and before you knew it, you found yourself stumbling into a corner to get yourself together. All you wished to do was go to your cabin and cry. To let it all out.

“This doesn’t look like you’re partying.”

“What the hell are you? A spy? Just leave me alone.” You shoved yourself further into the corner just away from all the partying, a quiet corridor devoid of anything but cold marble and tall, golden ceilings.

Ares hummed lowly. You didn’t have to see him, shoved into the corner like a child, but you knew he was just on the other side of it.

“I’ll let you off just this once, demigod.”

You rolled your eyes. The marble edges dug into your back uncomfortably from how hard you were trying to disappear for a few minutes. “What do you want? Spit it out.”

“If you weren’t her’s, I would say you’re one of mine. You’ve got the fire, I’ll give you that. And my wife has taken a special interest in you and that boy. Her business is my business, you’ll understand. Since you’re her business, now, you’re my business, too.”

You wanted to scream at him to leave, to go away so you could breathe for five minutes. But…you really wanted to know what he had to say. Curiosity always got the better of you.

“I don’t want to be anybody’s business,” you settled on, weakly. “I’m my own person.”

“Whatever, kid. I’m just here to pass along a message.”

“Which is?”

“She says, you’re doing exactly what you should be doing.”

“Oh, really?”

You shoved away from the corner, and paused.

He’d already gone.

—

Making your way back into the crowd was the last thing you wanted to do, but it would be best to show your face for a little while. Eventually you made your way back to Percy. He smiled as you popped up next to him, and then slowly frowned. His green eyes glistened under all the lights.

“You’ve been crying,” he reached up, and then lowered his hand, unsure of what to do.

You laughed pitifully. “Yeah.”

Because, really, what more could you say? It was rather obvious. And you sounded as if you’d just developed the world’s worst cold and stuffy nose.

Percy still stared at you, concerned. It was touching, really.

“I’m just tired.” You nodded. “I promise. When we get back to camp you might not see me for a couple weeks. I’m about to fall off the face of the earth in sleep mode.”

He smiled, tight-lipped, those eyes dancing across your face. For the first time ever under Percy’s eyes, you felt self-conscious.

“I’ll clean up later. My dad always says I look like I’ve just done thirty rounds of coke after crying. It’s funny because it’s true,” you tried lightly.

Percy’s dark curls shook. “No,” he denied. “I think you look…I think you look pretty—uh—I mean—”

Your heart jumped into your throat, and suddenly it was difficult to breathe. Because AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

“Uhm—” you frantically tried for something to do; hair behind your ears, leaning back and forth on your heels. “Thank you. Thanks.” Heat flooded your cheeks. Percy was already scarlet in the face, nodding frantically, avoiding your eyes.

When you looked up, Athena watched from a distance, and then looked away, as if she hadn’t been interested at all. But you weren’t about to let her ruin what just happened—Percy called you pretty.

“I was thinking,” he shoved out. You turned your head, blinking expectantly. “I owe you a dance, don’t I? We got interrupted at Westover Hall, right?”

This time, you allowed yourself to smile, your heart and lungs expanding.

“Right.” You took his hand, shaking.

The music played on, a gentle tune of the future, the past, and the present.

—

Chiron greeted you all at the Big House with hot chocolate and toasted cheese sandwiches. Grover went off to his satyr friends, telling them all about his brief experience with Pan.

Annabeth, Percy and yourself sat with Chiron by the fire. A couple of others joined you, too—Clarisse, back from a quest of her own it seemed. Her hair was cut short, like somebody had hacked it with scissors without a care, and there was a jagged scar on her chin. For once, she kept quiet.

“I got news,” she said glumly. “Bad news.”

“I’ll fill you in later,” Chiron said with forced cheerfulness. “The important thing is you’ve prevailed. And you’ve saved Annabeth!”

The Stoll brothers were there, too. You hadn’t even looked Travis in the eye. The high of the short dance with Percy had worn off, that tiny spark of normality had gone, and left you with the sadness you’d been feeling before it. You struggled with getting Bianca and Zoe’s deaths from the front of your mind, and Thalia’s moving on. Everybody was leaving, it felt like. And everybody was too happy for what had happened along the way.

Percy, sitting next to you in front of the fire, felt the same. You could tell by the sheer look of something bordering on a deep sadness he had.

You didn’t speak.

Annabeth talked about Atlas, and where she had been kept. She yawned the whole way through, still shaking with weakness even after some ambrosia.

Chiron’s positivity spread a little bit to you tired campers, but in the end, the unwavering need to go somewhere and cry won. You set down your mug of hot chocolate, and walked away. Another chair scratched the floor behind you, as you walked away toward the fields.

“Let her be,” you heard Chiron utter. “She needs time.”

You heard happy babbling just as you wandered away, boyish, childish talking. You looked to the left, and there was Nico di Angelo, two figurines in hands, talking to himself the way children tend to do. Every organ in your body twisted painfully, and you got away before he could see you. You couldn’t be the one to tell him Bianca was long gone. You still didn’t want to believe it yourself.

The air was bitter cold, your fingertips numb already. Snow fell lightly as you wandered into where you probably shouldn’t have been. You didn’t get far until his voice caught you up.

“Scout?”

You stopped, the snow crunching quietly. Behind you, Travis grew closer until he was right in front of you. You hadn’t even realized how tall he’d gotten until you saw him again, like seeing him in a different light.

Bundled in a red sweater and jeans, a coat and scarf atop of that, he still shivered.

“I just need to go for a walk. I’ll be alright later.” You shrugged.

Silence captured the air. Until he said, “Chiron…mentioned what happened to Nico’s sister. And the Hunter girl. Zoe. I’m—I’m so sorry.”

The first tear fell without any effort. And then you grew too cold too quickly. And crumbled.

He enveloped you instantly, as if without thought—like the action would be unknown, to hesitate in your arms. Against his warm, soft chest, Travis’s heart beat gently against your ear, his hands coming up carefully to your back, to your shoulder.

Safety.

And at the end of it—Travis.

You allowed yourself the tears. Your hands scrunched at his shirt. He smelled of the outside weather, of wind

of life.

—

PAIN. So, we’ve reached the end of Titans Curse! How are we feeling so far about relationships and eve thing? Feedback is always appreciated!

taglist: @bl6o6dy @embersparklz @lilyevanswhore @rottenstyx @rory-cakes @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @marshmallow12435 @lantsovheiress @distinguishedmakerpandapatrol @twsssmlmaa @gayandfairycore @padsfirewhisky @emu281 @charlesswife @jessiegerl @crackerphobic20 @mata0-0mata @jccc1000 @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @nothankyou138 @i-love-books-and-the-bible @obxstiles

if they’re not highlighted, it wouldn’t let me tag you!

this chapter’s quite short. I didn’t want to drag it out too much.

aaaaand I’ve added a few more songs to the playlist (on my profile if you don’t have it saved!) if you want to give them a listen. thanks for reading!

[thoughtsafterdark]

The Sun's Lover

Sometimes I gaze at myself in the mirror and my mind bends and buckles against warring thoughts and I wonder if I was meant for more.

Sometimes I feel a breeze in the back of my mind

Sparks of errant electricity

A brief glimpse into something other, something hidden

Something on the tip of my tongue and the edge of my olfactory bulb

Colours I can smell, feelings I can hear, thoughts that have no shape or form. Older than my life, than language, than war. Certainties that tease and caress and seduce but leave me dry and gasping like incubi in my sleep.

That leave my tongue sloppy and lazy like tar black molasses squelching between teeth

Thoughts that taste of longer tongues and darker mouths and sharper teeth on a planet circling twin red dwarves, of methane marshes and hexagonal prism eyes that sparkle like blood red rubies

Words slurring together and thoughts hazy as they come back down to a body that feels paper thin and husky like maple seeds in the wind

I think of the wrath that dances just beneath my skin

The bile that churns and rushes to my face, eyes like daggers, lips fixed in a snarl at the slightest insult

I think of my pride, that squirming bag of worms that lights fires in my blood and how it wars with my desperate craving to belong

I watch them from the safety of my window like a xenoanthropologist. How they love and laugh and touch eachother. How they slide against one another like well oiled gears in a way I have never been able to. I think of the eldritch way in which I care, with a gaping maw and drooling lips, with twirling rings of eyes and 6 pairs of wings, with claws that burrow deeper and squeeze tighter the harder they try to leave me.

And I think to myself, girlhood is not so much different to godhood. A self-satisfres ied sadistic existence hiding a crushing singularity of loneliness, topped with pettiness and boredom.

I wish you would come to me in my waking hours and take me away from this place

Steal and hide me away in palaces of sand and moonstone

I can put up a good fight. I’ll run and scream and beg you to stop, make sure to drag out the thrill of the chase. Isn’t that what pretty nymphs are for?

I see my bitterness reflected in the ozone blue of your eyes, the hardness and cruelty shot through with marble strands of gold

Your skin is a thrumming pool of pure power, an atomic bomb bound in sinew and nucleic acids, ready to turn me to a pillar of salt

Your fingers coax the most bittersweet of melodies, leaping and thrumming from string to string like acrobats. They say the best musicians make the instruments sing, but I’ve seen you make lyres moan and weep

I remember the old stories, of girls turned to laurel trees, of wounded pride and donkeys ears. I remember the blood of the Myrmidon spilled outside the walks of Illium. I know you are a wrathful, self-righteous whore, with greedy fingers that leave bruises  in the dips of hips and a silver tongue to match. Your fathers essence is strong in you, stronger even than it is in him. Nuclear fusion and supernovae to his ion and electron arcs. What is a thunderbolt in the face of the sun’s core?

That is how I know you would understand, I know you would thumb at that gaping festering wound inside my heart and bring me corpses instead of flowers. A plague in just the right place, so they can die slowly, in agony. Nuclear wastelands instead of jewellery. And then afterwards you’d smile that chesire cat smile at me, all satisfaction and faux-inoccence, and we’d wear our best skins and most beautiful masks and dance amongst the stars next to the hunter ripped to ribbons by hounds at your sisters command compose ballads, and study the healing arts and crafts but not so well the grey eyed bitch curses me with eight legs and congratulate ourselves on our own brilliance. Spin lies out of ambrosia and nectar and pretend we are good and just, exactly what the mortals deserve

 Fuck me with your fingers with a fierceness you wouldn’t dare use on your precious lyres, piston into me the way the women in my grandmothers village gut fish (rhythmically, ruthlessly, with the sun beating down on leathery skin and the weight of 6 mouths to feed and the memory of your husbands knuckles shattering teeth), reach up into me and wring the neck of my womb like a newly ripe peach, yank it out of me until it lies pulsing and glittering and full of seed, uterine arteries spewing blood. I want to feel you burrowing upwards until I am impaled on your divinity, until you push upwards into my heart and lungs and your hands are peaking up out of my throat. Turn me inside out and wash me clean until my mortality burns away like a chrysalis and I am reborn in your image.

My ascension is a spectacle that leaves many breathless and many more blinded. “I am the goddess of lost potential” I whisper into the crook of your neck “of promises unkept and grudges nursed. Of doorways and bridges and the space between atoms. Of longing and regret and moments lost.” And then you’d smile that ridiculous smile of yours, like you’d seen me like this always, glowing and thrumming with possibility – and this confirmation is somewhat amusing.

“Pithanotita” you’ll declare against the shell of my neck and the rightness of it reverberates deep deep down, beyond the skeletons of cells that no longer exist and multi corded DNA strands, as if you have struck my very resonant frequency and my de Broglie wavelength sings with the joy of being seen. Not a name but a constant, a universal truth. Phoebus I’ll counter, and I won’t bother using a mouth, though the smirk will be implied. Possibility and Poetry need no lips to speak to one another, we are two sides of the same coin. You’ll laugh out loud then, delighted at my audacity. Only your mother calls you by her mothers name. And I can pretend just for a moment that we might last. The first of our kind to have eternity.  That we won’t end up tearing each other to pieces. The sun and his unlikely lover, regret.

[katerinaaqu]

What makes the Heart Beat (An Achilles and Antilochus one-shot)

Somehow a sequel to this:

Antilochus was walking fast. His feet seemed to have grown wings even if he was trying to appear like walking casually. He had no idea what was making his heart beat so fast but he knew he had somehow to hurry up. He had received a note with one of Achilles’s slaves that Achilles requested his presence in his tent. They had grown pretty close recently, especially since the day they had shared their sad fates with each other. Antilochus was even afraid all the time that Achilles still wished for death; he could see it in his sad eyes quite often, however the fact that he gained life every time he saw him was filling him both with joy and relief. Perhaps, the Noblest of all the Greeks would find a reason to live after all. He had promised to protect him and Antilochus believed him. He already felt safer closer to him. As he reached the tent he took one breath. It didn’t matter how many times he had been summoned there or walked in there; Antilochus always felt a bit nervous. Achilles was the greatest of all heroes among them; his idol, and yet he was now so casual with him. It felt surreal and amazing at the same time. He rubbed his chilly hands together as a shiver ran down his spine. Winter as in for good at the foot of Troy. He was wearing his warmer clothes today and he noticed that he would need potentially to wear a coat or a mantle soon. He breathed in and out one last time before walking in. The tent was specious and comfortable as always. Slaves and servants were moving about; they seemed to be setting the benches and the pillows in place. The fire and the coals at the bronze braziers were already creaking friendly and emitting much needed warmth in the tent. His eyes immediately fell upon the central part of the tent and he met the beautiful features of Achilles who immediately gained some life and color to his cheeks upon seeing him. Antilochus shyly brushed a rebellious lock of hair behind his ear.

“You asked for my presence…my lord” he said

“Yes” Achilles replied

For one second Antilochus would swear he seemed almost as nervous as he was for one second!

“I…” the Best of the Achaeans stared, “I got some wine from Pthia today. I was wondering if you wanna share”

The younger man smiled without being able to stop himself. Achilles indeed seemed in need of company.

“Sure” Nestorides replied, “I would be happy to!”

“Then…come! Please come near the fire to get warm!”

Yes, Achilles often did that too. He was a good host, that much he remembered. Whoever got to his tent would eat and drink to their fill while Achilles would play his lyre or talk to them on stuff to keep them entertained. Antilochus took the offer gladly as he approached the bench right next to the man he admired as the servants were already mixing the wine to the crater. Antilochus noticed then the covered object to the other end of the room. He almost smiled again seeing how Achilles was trying to heed his advice and stop having the golden urn in plain sight. He quickly lowered his gaze, feeling Achilles looking at him; not wishing to share more of that thought with him. He didn’t want to rub salt in open wounds. The slaves brought plates with cooked eggs and fish and seasonal fruit as well as golden cups for them to drink from. Achilles had prepared a whole feast! Antilochus half-regretted having a good breakfast that morning so that he could honor his host by appreciating more of his hospitality!

“Please…” Achilles said, fixing a fur cover over his shoulder, “Help yourself. Don’t be shy…”

Antilochus obayed. How could he refuse such an offer? He took an egg and softly chewed on it, feeling also the spice that were sprinkled over it to his tongue. Achilles mimicked the move by cutting a flatbread in half, offering him one half and then lazily biting at the crust but he seemed as without appetite as he could be more. Antilochus noticed that he had barely made himself presentable and that was because of him and his visit. He did seem down as he was that day they firstly talked heart to heart and he felt privileged to sense that his presence might have had some positive effect on him. As the wine was poured in the jug, Achilles made a dismissive move with his hand.

“I won’t need you anymore!” he said almost too harshly even if he wasn’t yelling, “I believe I can pour my own wine. I will entertain my guest. Leave us alone!”

The women did not object as they bowed their heads and left. Antilochus noticed the last to leave stopping and looking with sad eyes towards Achilles, who was busy serving the wine to pay attention to her. She was a beauty of brown eyes and wavy hair to the color of pinewood; she smelt of a fine aromatic oil. Antilochus remembered her around. She was Briseis; Achilles’s most priced woman; his status prize and a woman he had expressed his feelings so strongly for a year before. Briseis sighed sadly, covered herself with her warm vail and exited the tent.

“She’s beautiful…” Antilochus whispered absentmindedly.

Achilles looked up for the first time towards the direction Briseis had left.

“She is…” he whispered honestly, “She means so much to me…but…I have to confess you these days I feel like I cannot stand the sight of her…”

“Why?” Antilochus asked as if on an impulse, taking the cup Achilles had offered him

“You know why…” Achilles whispered

His voice was suddenly husky; raspy even. It was the voice he had when anger was boiling inside him but this time the anger was different. It was self-directed.

“I love her…I care for her but…because of her I…I…”

His hands clenched at his cup.

“Because I…”

“Achilles!” Antilochus whispered pleadingly, “Stop blaming yourself!”

“And who’s there to blame?”

Suddenly Achilles looked at him. His blue eyes were liquid with fresh tears.

“At first I wanted to blame the gods…then Hector…then I had no idea anymore! And yet nothing would have happened if I had listened to him! If only I never sent him in my place!”

“What’s done, it’s done” Antilochus said, “The gods have a weird fate for all of us”

“I…” Achilles wiped his newly shed tears, “I never expected to lose him! I always knew he would bury me! I always expected that I would die first… When we left from Skyros he was almost tearful…”

Antilochus realized how he strategically avoided to speak his name; he felt as if uttering the very sound of his companion’s name would tear him apart.

“He thought he would bid me goodbye…and he tagged along. He knew that I would die…and then…I saw his body…at my feet… I…I had no idea that I…that he…”

The youth saw his idol jerk by some unspoken sob. He had to bring his fist to his mouth to stop the new moan from arising.

“Achilles…”

The man he loved and admired suddenly forced a smile to his face.

“I am such an idiot!” he said, “I am collapsing again! I am here to entertain you not get you all sadder with the same repetitive speech of mine!”

“My lord…please…don’t you think for a moment-…”

“Taste the wine!” Achilles interrupted with a forced cheerfulness, “See the wine from my homeland and let me know”

For one more time Antilochus obeyed and brought the goblet to his lips. He tasted the rich wine to his tongue; it was light, lighter than what he expected and had a juicy flavor that reminded him of summer. He felt the eyes of Achilles on him. He felt like he should say something.

“It is exquisite, my lord…” he managed to utter, “Truly can see how much your homeland means to you”

That seemed to have positive effect for his loved idol smiled, this time genuinely, and took a sip of his own. Antilochus observed the lines of his face; he had the beauty of a woman and the strength of a man. How was it possible, even if he was not taking the same good care of himself?

“I see you started growing your beard” Antilochus mentioned as a matter of fact.

“I do?” Achilles seemed shocked as he touched the light, blonde hair that had started to grow to his chin, “I…didn’t notice…”

Antilochus raised a brow. For one second he remembered that Achilles would be now old enough to grow and take care of his beard but now he seemed genuinely shocked to discover its existence. That also seemed, Antilochus realized, that for one more thing he had abandoned himself.

“I don’t like it. Can you help me?”

“My lord? You don’t feel like taking care of your beard?”

“No” Achilles’s reply left no room for doubt, “P-…he liked my face as it was… I did too. I don’t need beard to tell me that I managed to survive this long! Can you help me?”

“I…” Antilochus rubbed the back of his nape in thought, taking another sip of wine, “I would be delighted to be of assistance but surely you can do it yourself…or one of your slaves can…”

“Right now…I don’t trust my hands much with blades close to me…” Achilles confessed, “And I do not want any of my slaves close now! You are the only company I need! Please…”

Color climbed to Antilochus’s cheeks at that remark. Surely Achilles would have many people to rely on and yet he chose him! Once again his lips curled to a small smile.

“I…I am not sure if I am the best candidate to assist with this, my lord, but I will do my best”

Achilles seemed satisfied. He stood up from his seat and went to a wooden box at the corner and took a dagger out. It was one of his most priced possessions; a dagger made of the rare blue iron of the east. Not many people had such weapons to their disposal. As he came back instead of sitting to his bench he curled upon the sheep rug he would have around the heath of fire. He patted a spot next to him.

“Come nearer the fire…” were his cheekbones painted pink because of the heat of the fire or maybe…? “It’s easier to see here…”

Antilochus gulped and for one more time obeyed. He sat and took the knife before carefully approaching the older man’s face. He focused probably way too much. He almost felt the slightest miscalculation would hurt Achilles’s tender-looking skin. The youth felt almost laughing at himself. Achilles had the fame of being invulnerable to any kind of weapon and yet here he was wondering whether he would scratch him with a blade. And yet his skin looked almost sensitive; as if a drop of rain could damage it! His complexion was pale and rosy, slightly sprinkled with light freckles along the shoulders and arms. Being so close to his face let him see with more detail his blue orbs reflected in the fire; the lips of his that were so soft and expressive all the time. Hands shaking he placed his free hand to the chin of the Son of Peleus trying to focus at how he would shave him better.

“You’re very good at this…”

Antilochus blushed.

“Y-You’re very kind, my lord…”

“I might call you to do it next time too!” Achilles teased him

“D-Don’t tease me, Achilles!”

“I’m being serious!” Achilles chuckled in response

“Y-You don’t sound serious!” Antilochus complained, “Anyway…I think I am done”

Achilles felt across his chin. He made a hum of approval but he didn’t say anything. The corner of his eye followed Antilochus’s movement as he attempted to return the dagger.

“Keep it” Achilles said softly, pushing it towards him

“N-No! I can’t possibly…!”

“Keep it…” Achilles repeated, “So you can have something to remember me…when…when I…”

“Achilles! Please don’t! Don’t say that! I told you-…”

“Let’s be realistic here” Achilles finally said, “That is my fate. Whether I stop talking about it or not will make no difference. I will do my best to protect you, Antilochus!”

It was the first time Achilles had actually voiced his name that day and Antilochus felt a shiver down his spine, feeling the syllables that consisted it running to Achilles’s tongue.

“You won’t die in Troy while I live! I promised you that! But I know I will not leave Troy…so, please, I want you to have this…to remember me…perhaps my spirit will be with you the time when…when your fate is to strike you, maybe this dagger will stop it from appearing…”

Antilochus clenched the deadly weapon to his chest, feeling his heart increasing a beat. What made this man’s heart beat, he wondered? How could he find that so that he would gain more faith that perhaps his own fate was not irreversible? Somehow he knew he sounded like a naive child by thinking that but he wouldn’t bear the thought of losing him either; for once he understood his other half, the name avoided all evening; Patroclus. Patroclus; a man he so much envied and felt sorry for but mostly the envy was that he could influence the heart of this great man so effortlessly, even if he was so far away now while he, Antilochus, had to struggle to make himself adequate to the situation! He felt ashamed of his jealousy and yet he couldn’t help himself. Perhaps that was what kept him going now.

“Thank you, my dear…” he finally said, “I will treasure it always”

“It’s yours…” Achilles whispered

The silence that passed between them was both awkward and tensed. Neither of them stood up to go back to their seats. In fact they continued getting warmed up by the fire and each other’s presence. It was as if the benches were too far apart; and this closeness was warm. He thought he should say something to break the ice but, unexpectedly, it was Achilles the one to smile again and speak.

“Do you want me to play something for you?”

“If that would please you, my lord…”

“I am asking you!” Achilles said with a light laugh, “You are my guest. You shall tell me how you want to be entertained!”

Antilochus drew one more sip of wine and smiled back. It truly felt amazing that he had the impact on him that he could make him smile.

“Then…I would be delighted to hear you play, my lord.”

Once more, the man dear to his heart smiled and rose only to fetch his lyre from the hanger he kept it. He sat back down and placed the fur blanket over his shoulders anew. After taking a few minutes to tune his instrument, Achilles began to play a light melody. Antilochus realized he could hear him play for hours. He would only stop to sip some wine and ask him if there was something else he wanted to hear. Eventually he grew tired and he needed to fetch more wine from the crater. He placed the lyre on the bench he sat before and rose to fetch the newly filled jug. Antilochus smiled, watching him. Everything was so out of the heart with Achilles! Achilles eyed towards his head; his hair, seeing the hairpin that was holding it together. With one move he pulled that hairpin out and Antilochus felt his hair cascade down his shoulders.

“Achilles!” he almost shrieked, “Give that back!”

“Not on your life!” Achilles chuckled, then turning serious again he whispered, “You have very beautiful hair.”

Antilochus felt blood climbing to his head again.

“I-I do? Never thought of it”

“Let me braid it for you…” Achilles suggested, “To return the favor for the shave”

Antilochus felt he couldn’t blush more but apparently he could!

“I-If that would please you, my lord…”

“It would!” Achilles replied playfully.

The young son of Nestor gulped a bit and showed Achilles his back. The prince of Pthia softly pulled all the locks back and combed the wavy, dark brown hair with his fingers. Antilochus’s long hair cascaded almost all the way to his hips. He had fathomed he should trim it a bit to stop getting in his way. Feeling Achilles’s light fingers work on the several pieces of hair, carefully already arranging it in small braids made his heart beat faster. Once more he wondered what made Achilles’s own heart beat because his had a pretty obvious reason!

“Your hair seem as if made to be braided!” he heard Achilles whispering

“I…” he stammered back, “I never thought of doing that before…I usually thug it high in my helmet”

“Shame” Achilles commented, “It really suits you”

Feeling the care in those fingers, Antilochus wondered; did he use to do that to Patroclus as well? Or Patroclus used to do that for him? He heard him hum as if trying to surpass a laughter.

“What?”

“Nothing” Achilles dismissed it, “It is just…I remember the first day you came here…”

“Y-You still remember that!?” Antilochus blushed

“Of course. You rushed in this tent asking for my support to your decision to fight; to make your father understand, you said”

“And you helped me…like nothing…”

“How could I refuse such a brave offering? Although…”

His movements stopped for one second.

“...Hearing the fate you had in store…I regret it…”

“Don’t!”

Antilochus turned around all of the sudden and he held Achilles’s hands in his.

“Don’t you ever say you regret it! It was my decision back then! It was my decision to stay even if I overheard the conversation of my father’s! I am scared, yes, but you have nothing to be blamed for! And I know you said you will protect me. That is enough for me! You do not need to apologize all the time for the games of fate that befall others! Please don’t do that, dear to my heart! Please!”

There was some silence between them anew but Achilles smiled.

“Yes…you are right. Forgive me…”

Forgive you! Forgive you! How can I forgive you and your heart big enough to fit us all! Antilochus wanted to scream and yet he remained silent. He let Achilles finish.

“There! I believe I did a decent job!” he approached the bronze spectrum to his face

Antilochus faced himself as he never saw it before; his wavy hair was half-arranged at some small braids Achilles had tied together with some colorful strings he had cut off the edge of his shawl, while Antilochus had his back at him! He was at loss of words.

“I-Is that me…?” he whispered feeling like an idiot for saying this

“It is!” Achiles chuckled, “I told you, you have beautiful hair!”

Antilochus eyed Achilles as well. His hair was cut short for the funeral of Patroclus. Now it had started to grow again but barely touched his shoulders. He lowered his eyes. This man knew how to love; he had loved with a passion he never saw in any other mortal! Achilles seemed to him like the expert to the matters of the heart!

“Achilles…” Antilochus hesitated, “Don’t get me wrong but…I have a silly question.”

“Hm? Shoot” Achilles drank some more wine

“How…how did you realize…you know…”

“Realize what?”

“You know…” Antilochus blushed again, “That you…feel something for someone. I mean…” he looked down in his cup, “You tell me sometimes on your wife and child and all…”

“Oh. That…”

Was that disappointment in his voice? Fatigue? New sadness?

“It’s hard to tell…I mean…Diadeima is a very good woman; a strong and kind woman. She bore me a son but I barely could see his first steps happening before coming to Troy. I care deeply for both; their well-being and safety. I guess that is a sign enough…”

He was strategically avoiding the subject again. He knew that if he had asked this man about his most intense emotions he would probably break down, cry and be much more descriptive than that. However the explanation he gave was good enough on its own.

“My father got me married when I was 13 too…”

“He didn’t!” Achilles banged his hand down the fleece

That look on his face was a genuine childish happiness Antilochus hadn’t see before! He was genuinely shocked in the most positive way; especially that he heard something new about his new companion! That gave Antilochus the boost to continue.

“I suppose he wanted us all to be able to have a family as soon as possible. He had always a big family and he was already getting older back then. I guess he wanted to make sure that we could start our family soon to be with them for as long as possible… I think I left my wife pregnant before embarking for Troy!”

“No!” once again the same look of childish enthusiasm and disbelief emerged

Antilochus wondered if the wine they had both drunk so far made him more cheerful, finally letting go of some of his sadness. In fact for one second he thought he had something in common that he didn’t have with Patroclus! They had the same fate with their spouses!And this new connection made him so happy; more than what he could express!

“Well…” he started, “That’s what I think. I left for Troy soon after but I think that was what she was trying to tell me.”

“How are they?”

Antilochus shrugged.

“I don’t know, haven’t heard anything of them for five years ever since I came here…”

“Ah…good…” Achilles mumbled absentmindedly

Realizing what he said made him once more gasp and raise his hands in defense.

“No! I mean…not good! That is not good definitely!”

Antilochus chuckled lightly. Maybe he too was getting cheerful by the wine after all. But once more he realized how much better suited this smile to Achilles over sadness.

“No need to worry too much, Achilles.” he reassured him, “The reason I am asking is exactly because I am not sure of my feelings on them. I mean I barely knew them. Of course I care for their safety and all but if I am honest I still feel like a child now, yet alone back then. I was barely out of my childhood…and yet being prepared for a family…”

He turned the drink in his cup in thought.

“I am not sure how to feel about it…”

“I understand” Achilles said sincerely, “I know how that feels like…”

“Yes, you do, don’t you? I knew you would understand…”

“It will come with time, I suppose…” the prince of Pthia replied, “it is a matter of time till you can go back home and see them again and…catch up, you know…”

“Perhaps…”

For some reason that day seemed way too distant; almost unimportant compared to the present; to this closeness with the greatest of all heroes on earth. Achilles took a mischievous expression as he smiled.

“So…have you ever since…you know!”

Antilochus once more blushed. He had lost counting how many times he did!

“I-…of course I did…once or twice…here I mean. Some slaves my father gave me that is… Can’t say I am that much invested to it!”

He cleared his throat.

“What about you?”

“No…” the answer was again immediate, “Not ever since…”

“I understand!” Antilochus rushed to stop the train of his thoughts

The last he wanted was to let Achilles sink to melancholy anew; not now that he had experienced his happiness and laughter! Achilles seemed to take the cue and stop. However then he half-smirked again as if he was about to say some good gossip.

“And have you ever experienced…you know?”

It took him ten seconds to realize what the Noblest of all Greeks was implying and when he did, he swore all the liters of his blood had climbed to his face, almost making him explode. He had no idea why he reacted like that but the question resonated way too deep for his own good!

“N-No!” he replied, perhaps louder than what he intended, “Never…I mean I came here so…I never had… way too many experiences of that kind anyways!”

It was way too awkward for some reason; why was his heart hammering against his ribcage?

“Antilochus…” Achilles whispered drawing his attention

And he then felt the warm, slightly calloused from the sword palm against his cheek. His face slowly turned and then Achilles’s soft lips were against his own. He forgot how to breathe! It took him several seconds till his paralyzed brain realized it was the pair of lips massaging his softly. And then all his mind could think was; Achilles! Achilles is kissing me! His lips tasted of wine and spices, his body had a slight essence of sweat combined with the smoke of the fire…he was warm. Antilochus felt the warmth spread in him like a wave. Achilles was kissing him in a slow and methodical manner; like a person that knew what he was doing; a man far more experienced than what Antilochus was in affairs and intimacy…and Antilochus felt like flying; the touch against his lips and the ghost-touch of that thumb to his cheek…the magic of the moment had left him speechless and out of reality. The soft lip-locking lasted only a few seconds and those seconds seemed like eternity; like the Elysian Fields! All his contact with reality was lost for those few seconds! Achilles pulled back, massaging his cheek with his finger.

“That’s how it feels…” he whispered against his lips

He let him go and only then was the magic evaporating.

“Achilles!” Antilochus screeched, “Please stop playing with me!”

“I am not”

Was that sincerity in his look? Antilochus was way too embarrassed to speak!

“But…” the elder man smirked, “You make it irresistible not to tease you!”

His head seemed ready to explode. For one second he wondered what that proposal was all about and the second he felt like he was the one to misunderstand! Achilles was reserved as well. It was as if he was unprepared for the consequences of his own actions. He brushed some hair behind his ear.

��I-I..need to go…” Antilochus said standing up

“Of course. I understand. It’s late” Achilles replied numbly

“Y-yeah… Thank you very much for the wine…and the meal! It was great”

“Sure…” Achilles once more reply

For one second he seemed worried as he added;

“You will come over again, right?”

His eyes looked almost hurt; as if he was afraid his joke or not so much had ruined their relationship they built so far. Antilochus smiled a bit.

“Of course” that was said very easily. “I would be delighted…m-my lord”

“Good! Be careful on your way back!”

“I-I will!”

And he left the tent…

*

Antilochus was running like his feet had grown wings! He had no idea what had happened or why he felt so curious not to mention eager to see the next stage of this! All his accumulated emotions; admiration, sympathy, worry, fear, jealousy and now this weird new desire that arose made him feel ready to explode! He ignored several of the slaves that walked past him (daresay he must have bumped into several of them) or of several soldiers that tried to stop him or ask him what was wrong. Antilochus didn’t stop until his breath was cut off. He then halted and leaned against a wooden pike of a tent, breathing heavily; his breath coming in white clouds in the evening winter cold. He clasped the dagger to his chest; the dagger that touched the flesh of Achilles and now that was given to him as a gift or as memorial and he tried to put his thoughts in order; he couldn’t remember when was the last time someone kissed him like this! Was it is wife on their wedding night? He highly doubted it; they were both young, scared and unsure. It definitely was not one of the slaves he bedded at the camp; none of them had any reason to be passionate with him; for once he was not particularly experienced or daring as a lover and for second they were slaves; they were probably afraid of him deep down. Achilles was the first person to kiss him first! The first person to add so many emotions in one kiss and, by gods, it was just a soft and chaste touch!

“Oh gods…!” he mumbled, “Gods…!”

His heart was hammering against his chest at the memory; the lips against his; the hand on his cheek… His idol had kissed him…his hero had held him closer than ever before! He wondered what that meant; was it just a moment’s tease? A moment of weakness and loneliness…or was it maybe a promise? A potential promise for more? He shook his head violently at the thought, trying to pull his thoughts together.

“Focus!” he said to himself, “You have a war to fight! Achilles relies on you! Stop having weird thoughts like this! If Achilles means something like that…he will let you know!”

And yet his hand touched his hammering heart. And then he wondered maybe that was what made the heart beat after all and maybe that was the answer to his question; somehow he knew now…that he knew how it felt!

*

Achilles was left alone in his tent after Antilochus left. He couldn’t find his voice not even to call the slaves back in and gather the remains of their meal… The silence was chocking him and yet he couldn’t feel himself break it! He was shocked at himself; the reaction that started as a joke, potentially pushed by the wine they had consumed; a mutual teasing about their love life made him move fast and taste the boy’s lips! And that chaste touch had awoken something inside him he had thought frozen ever since he gathered the ashes of his other half from the funeral pyre! That young man who apparently could understand him in every shape or form had somehow awakened this new or rather the old and forgotten feeling inside him; had awakened his need to live, his will to protect and now this… He clenched the hair pin he had somehow forgotten to return to Antilochus. It still bore one or two of his brown hairs on it. He clenched it against his beating heart. And now there was another feeling he knew well; guilt… He eyed the cloth that was hanging like a silent ghost. He had not even the strength to stand. Only he crawled to the spot and grasped the piece of linen, pulling it down. The golden urn came back on sight. Achilles then felt his throat burn; tied in a knot.

“Forgive me…” he whispered

His trembling hand touched the cold, golden surface.

“F-Forgive me…heart of my heart…I can’t do this anymore!” he whispered

Tears arose from his eyes, streaming down his cheeks. The pin was clasped in his hand against his chest; like a sinful proof of a criminal action.

“I can’t bear this anymore…! The loneliness…the longing! Forgive me…! Please try to understand! I can’t keep pushing people away…f-for you…!”

He moaned in desperation.

“Oh gods…!” he mumbled, “Forgive me for my words! My beloved! Soul of my soul…dear as my own life and heart! Forgive me! But I cannot do this anymore! I am alive! I am not a corpse! I cannot keep going like this! Forgive me…forgive me! Please! Try to understand…”

He had no idea what made his heart beat more;

The past the present or the nonexistent future?

****

Soooo it has become colder around here so I got inspired for another fluffy thing after also a conversation with @ellilyre about these two and I just couldn't help but explore a bit more the possibility!

So yeah fluffy stuff!

Antilochus according to some versions of the myth he was too young at the beginning of the war but at the 5th year he arrived to Troy and asked for Achilles to support his decision to fight because Nestor had objections being terrified by the prophecy

Once again I wanted to create some more tragic climate for Achilles because I so agree with people who say he was not prepared to lose Patroclus but he loses him. Now he makes a promise that he will protect Antilochus but as we know Antilochus would die by the hands of Memnon

According some myths Antilochus was also married and left an heir behind so I wanted to include that here!

I based Antilochus's description on his depiction at a vase.

The detail with the iron dagger was inspired by a conversation I had with @captnbunnie Homer mentions Iron as anachronism in his poems however iron was not completely unknown (although not widely used) so yeah decided to sneak it in as well and make it a bit more "period accurate" by making it some luxury item.

And decided to add the emotional conflict here. What do you think? Let me know!

Once again special mention to @ellilyre and of course my dear friend @artsofmetamoor because most of my work reflects a lot stories we work together with!