#tellis of sparta

[the-good-spartan]

If I were to write a piece of Ancient History RPF about Tellis and the battle of Tanagra, and was to post it to AO3, would anyone read it?

Why did this question fall so naturally into the if a tree falls down in the woods, and no one is there to hear it, does it make any sound format?

[brasideios]

Hello! For the ask game I am dying to know about The Good Spartan OG V2. Also, if it's not too much, curious about Newcastle 1929!

Thank you for asking! 🤍

So The Good Spartan OG V2 is, as the name suggests, a rewrite of the Good Spartan as it currently exists on AO3, but as original fic. It was going to be a straightforward rewrite, but then somehow in the writing it began with a time period much earlier than I'd thought it would, so I went with it.

So - here's a bit of a scene when Tellis was a young man :)

Timanthes was dead.

An angry crowd had dragged his corpse into the meeting hall of the governing body of elders, the gerousia, in an angry buzz of agitation. The perpetrator struggled against the hands that held him, his face drawn down into a heavy scowl. His face was spattered with the dead man’s blood.

‘What's going on here?’ King Arkhidamos demanded angrily. Though he was just another member of the gerousia here in Sparta, it was natural that he should take the lead.

‘Philokrates, the son of Aktidas was killed by Elasos, son of Timanthes, in training. He stabbed him through the eye with his practice spear.’

As they said this, a few men speaking at once, they shoved Elasos forward. He didn’t resist now, though he continued to tilt his chin up at a defiant angle.

Arkhidamos demanded, ‘What have you to say?’

Elasos’ voice was surly. ‘It was an accident.’

There was a hiss amongst the crowd. Several voices at once yelled out, ‘Liar!’ ‘You did it out of spite!’

‘Spite?’ the king queried, but before anyone could be heard above the generalised shouting, Aktidas, the father of the slain man, arrived, shoving his way through the ever-increasing crowd, as word spread throughout Sparta about what was happening.

He didn’t weep of course, but his face was set in lines of adamantine rage.

The crowd parted to allow him through, and a hush fell on the assembled men as they craned their necks to hear what he would say.

Aktidas was a naturally quiet man, dignified and the kind of man who never lost control of himself.

He stood for a moment in perfect stillness looking down at the body of his son before he turned to Elasos.

The accused set his jaw, jutting it out, his scowl never easing.

Aktidas came to stand before him, to look into his eyes for a long moment before turning to the gerontes.

‘Sirs,’ he said in his deep voice. ‘This was no accident. Elasos son of Timanthes murdered my son.’

His voice quivered, and like a breeze crossing the face of water, a wave of emotion fleeted across his face for the barest instant... but then he continued firmly, ‘My son approached Elasos yesterday to request that he might share his wife. His own wife produced only daughters, and Elasos is blessed with many sons. Elasos denied his request, which my son accepted with good grace.’

‘This was conducted in the correct way?’ The king asked.

‘The customs laid down by Lykurgos were observed,’ he confirmed.

Several witnesses called out from within the crowd that they'd witnessed the exchange.

One of these, a young man names Tellis, the son of Isarkhos, stepped forward. He was tall and dark, and as a distinguished leader during the Great Revolt, he commanded respect. Everyone turned to listen to what he'd say.

‘I was a witness to this exchange, sirs, but I also witnessed Elasos talking amongst his nearest brothers about his rage that anyone should ask that of him and his wife. His words were that he would kill any man who dared to look in her direction.’

Another man stepped forward to stand beside Tellis. He was named Bardas, the son of Leon. They nodded at one another. His appearance from amongst the gathering made Arkhidamos’ eyebrows shoot upwards as Bardas said, ‘This man sought my wife himself, and unlawfully.’

‘Why did you say nothing of this to me before!’ Arkhidamos said in surprise, for he was the king’s cousin, and the two men were close.

Elasos was sneering in Bardas' direction and said, ‘He’s not seeing to his duty, so somebody must.’

Arkhidamos rounded on him angrily. ‘You will not speak unless it is requested of you! How dare you slander another’s honour when your own is in tatters?’

‘Because what is there to lose?’ he fired back angrily. ‘Why should I stand here meekly and accept whatever these dregs of Sparta wish to level at me without the right to reply?’

~~~

Newcastle 1929, on the other hand, is a continuation of Stories from Wiacubbin, a sequel of sorts, set in the (semi-fictional) town of Newcastle here in Western Australia.

[I know you're reading Stories at the moment, so a bit with no spoilers :)]

‘Marcella?’

‘Yes, Father?

He’d come into the lobby unnoticed from the direction of the tap room; he smiled at her fondly.

‘It’s time for you to go upstairs. I’ll sit up.’

She looked with surprise at the windows that looked out over the road.

‘Is it so late already?’

He nodded. ‘Just gone nine.’

She set her book down, and stood, stretching her back.

He picked the book up, glancing at the flyleaf, and his face became drawn. It was a collection of Wilfred Owen's war poetry.

‘Why would you wish to read such things, my girl? War is ugly.’

She glanced at the book and waved a hand dismissively. ‘I don’t wish to be blind to the world, Papa, I’ve told you that many times.’

He pursed his lips. ‘You know what your mother will say…’

‘Mother is the one who brought it to me from the library,’ she said with quiet assurance; then she assumed an expression that he knew very well – it told him she had something very serious to tell him. ‘I think we can agree I'm a spinster quite on the shelf. It's no longer sensible to think about what a young man might expect from me, or to keeping some imagined purity of mind. I am too old to care for such scruples.’

Her father shook his head. ‘Your last suitor didn’t deserve you, my dear. It doesn’t mean there will be no others.’

She smiled warmly at him, and assured him, ‘That’s true, Father, but I’m determined I should begin to think about a life without all that. I wish to plan a life without figuring a husband into the equation at all.’

He tutted. ‘You're sounding dangerously modern.’

She chuckled then, and leant down to kiss his cheek. ‘Well – perhaps I am dangerously modern.’

She left the room then, taking the book with her, and Joseph watched her go. He had always been a progressive man himself, and he often thought he'd brought his daughter up far too liberally – but he couldn't find it in himself to regret it.

[stormyblue90]

Blessed by the Gods

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Y-yes, how did you-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[sassysatsuma]

Follow You - 3/?

Fandom: Assassin’s Creed Odyssey

Rating: M

Characters: Kassandra, Brasidas,

Ships: Kassandra/Brasidas (slow burn, Spartans to friends to lovers)

Summary: “Against all of her better judgement, Kassandra already felt bonded with Brasidas, a friendship that she’d tried to fight for fear of what it might become. He was a man she admired, respected, trusted. A man who in another life may have even been someone who could have had her heart. He was everything she should avoid, everything that could make her vulnerable.A potential weakness that she couldn’t afford.“

An Assassin’s Creed Odyssey AU, where Brasidas joins Kassandra and the rest of the Adrestia’s crew.

Author’s Note: Takes place after ‘And the Streets Run Red’ main quest mission, so be wary of spoilers!!The developing love story of Kassandra and Brasidas in an AU where he joins the crew of Adrestia and becomes Kassandra’s trusted second in command and confidante. The slow burn, Spartans to friends to lovers romance that I wanted Ubisoft to give me. Feel free to like, reblog or signal boost!

Read it below the cut or here on AO3.

“But there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears.  And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.”

Mumford & Sons

The closer the Adrestia came to Naxos, the sicker Kassandra became.

It was an odd sensation, hurtling through the waves towards a woman who she hadn't see in 17 years, Myrrine the unattainable goal that she'd been searching for ever since she'd washed up on Kephallonia's shore. Her mater represented everything that Kassandra had been missing; the family she longed to be a part of. Seeing her again had been her true drive ever since the moment she’d lost sight of her on Taygetos, before the world slipped into darkness and she woke up, broken, bruised and alone.

Myrrine had always been so far away, even when Kassandra had her own ship and crew and the means to follow her. But now she was just so close.

Too close. Although Kassandra wanted nothing more than to see her, there was a growing part of her that felt raw, opposed towards the very idea. The seeds of doubt were already in her mind, the worry that she'd not be enough, that she'd be a disappointment. That someone simply being alive and able to find her mater after everything would not be enough. It was terrifying to feel so out of control and vulnerable, a sensation that grew and grew the closer they sailed to Naxos.

Kassandra didn't deal well with feeling weak, in truth she wasn't used to the emotion. And so, she did what she always did when faced with emotions she didn't want to feel. She hid away, retreating into herself for fear of letting the crew see her so exposed.

It almost worked too.

It was the early hours of the morning and Kassandra was below deck, hunkered down in what was considered her "quarters". In reality it was simply a portion of the ship's hull that was cordoned off and called hers, thin planks and curtains cutting it off from where the rest of the crew ate and slept. Inside, Kassandra kept only the sparsest of possessions; a chest for her armour and weapons and a smaller, ornate trinket box that held oil and a bone comb for her hair. The only other furniture was a place for Ikaros to call home, fashioned from an old, gnarled tree branch that protruded from the floor. A favoured resting place for her most trusted friend when he grew tired of circling the skies above the Adrestia and the waves.

Now Ikaros was sitting atop his perch, squawking content whilst Kassandra fed him another hunk of meat from the end of her knife. It was supposed to be hers, but with her appetite well and truly lost, she figured that at least one of them should benefit from the meal.

"Hungry tonight, aren't you?" She smiled softly, stroking the downy feathers at his throat affectionately. Ikaros squawked again, although this time the sound was quieter, as affectionate a sound as the bird could make. "Get some rest, friend. I'm going to need you in the morning."

"Shouldn't you be resting too?" A voice, most definitely not Ikaros' startled her and Kassandra jumped in her skin, cursing under her breath at the chuckle she earned from the intruder. She looked to her left, to where Brasidas held the curtain that covered the doorway to one side. He was grinning as per usual, his face softly lit by the low lamplight of the room.

"I could say the same to you."

"I'm not the one meeting my mater in the morning." He shrugged, surveying her with those eyes that read her so easily. "Should I stay or go?"

"You can stay." Kassandra nodded in response, trying to be as nonchalant as possible in her agreement despite the little voice in the back of her thoughts scolding her for giving them even more time to be alone. She turned her back on him, returning to her bedroll and sitting down with crossed legs. "But close the curtain, I'd rather at least maintain the pretence of privacy."

She watched him closely, his movements careful as he did as she asked, replacing the curtain as though it had never been disturbed. Bare footed, he stepped towards Ikaros, reaching out and rewarding the bird with a soft stroke to the head as he passed. Traitor. Ikaros had accepted Brasidas right from the start, something that the bird did very rarely.

It had been one of the reasons that he had earned Kassandra's trust so easily, her companion the best judge of character that she knew. Now, that trust merely pushed at her resolve.

"I didn't bring wine this time." Brasidas smiled, seating himself in front of her. "I thought you'd disapprove."

"It's probably best to meet my mater not smelling like a taverna." Kassandra laughed. "Thanks."

"There'll be plenty of time for her to learn the truth about her daughter..." He teased, dodging her attempt to swat at him with the back of her hand. "I'm joking of course. You tend to smell a lot better than most mercenaries."

"And you'd know that how, I wonder?" This time it was her turn to taunt him, a smirk pulling at the corners of her lips. "Sounds like someone has a sordid past?"

"Sordid?" Hardly. I've just fought a lot of mercenaries in my time."

"Sure... fought."

"I fear that you think I'm far more interesting than I actually am, Kassandra."  He raised an eyebrow curiously, still smiling although his eyes were there again, perpetually reading hers. "I'm not known for my gift of seducing every mistios in my path. Apologies."

Just this one then. The thought chased across Kassandra's mind before she could stop it, but she kept her face blank under his scrutiny. Already chiding herself for letting their conversation twist into almost flirting, Kassandra paused, already too aware of the need to shift to more innocent topics. It was then when she realised that for everything Brasidas knew about her, she knew so little about him. He was always so quick to speak about everything but himself, happy to laugh and joke and deflect whenever directly questioned.

She decided there and then that needed to change.

"Maybe it's because we always end up talking about me and never the other way around?"

"But you're so much more interesting than I am, mistios."

"I doubt that."

"Says The Great Eagle-Bearer!" Brasidas grinned. "How could a humble soldier compete with one blessed by Zeus himself?"

"You could tell me and maybe we'll find out?" Kassandra rolled her eyes, her overly inflated title feeling all the more alien when spoken by a man she considered a friend. "Tell me about yourself, Brasidas. Where's home?"

"Sparta."

"Obviously. But where?"

"You misunderstand..." He paused, all at once looking as on edge as she’d ever seen him. She watched as he all but considered lying to her, an anxious hand rubbing at the back of his head.

"… Home has always been an abstract idea to me. There was a place where I grew up, yes. A family too. But it isn't something I long for in the same way that maybe you do."

"And where is this family?"

"Dead, mostly.” His reply was blunt, but the sigh that left his lips betrayed his true emotions. “My mater went to Elysium not long after I was born. I’m told my pater was never the same after she died. He was Tellis, a man from a humble family but as loyal a Spartan as you could find. He was the man who taught me and my brother the importance of our shields, who pushed us to embrace our agoge training and to honour the Gods."

"You have a brother?"

"Had." A sad smile flickered across Brasidas' features. For a moment his eyes left hers and flicked around the room in a desperate attempt to buy himself time. When his gaze returned to hers, there was a sadness reflected in his eyes, although it was also tinged with pride. "Iasonas. He was my elder by a couple of years and the very image of my pater. We trained through the agoge together, then sailed together as soldiers. He was everything I ever wanted to be."

"How did he die?"

"In battle with the Athenians. We were separated, Iasonas chosen to lead a garrison of men whilst I was sent abroad to spy. His ship was surrounded by the Athenian fleet and overcome. I was told that he died honourably."

"Brasidas..." Kassandra found her mouth empty of words, guilt creeping into her thoughts at the realisation that she by being so wrapped up in her own grief she’d never stopped to think about what tragedies might have befallen her friend. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be, his death isn't your burden to bear. It was painful, for a time... I held myself accountable for not being there with him when he needed me. But I know now that if I’d been there, pater would have lost two sons instead of one that day."

"Everything you said about Phoibe..."

"I’d known that loss.” Brasidas nodded in agreement, fixing her with a kind smile. “That night above Athens, I saw everything in you that had filled me when Iasonas died. Seeing a friend go through that was difficult. I wanted to help."

"You did." Kassandra stated bluntly, caught somewhere between sympathy and empathy for his loss. "Others tried, but only you managed it."

"The Gods have given me a great gift, to be able to get through that thick skull of yours." He laughed softly, at home on more familiar ground. Leaning back on his hands he surveyed her with curious eyes. "Or perhaps... it's because we are more alike than we think?"

"Which mountain did your pater throw you from?" Kassandra teased in return, her smirk breaking into a full-blown smile when he laughed heartily at her joke. There was always a pure kind of happiness that flooded her soul whenever she made him laugh, the sight as beautiful as it was endearing. "We could compare scars."

"I imagine pater wanted to throw me from a mountain many times growing up. He was always so frustrated with me. Iasonas was always the better fighter, but I had an interest in so much more. I lapped up every story about the Gods, thought myself a modern-day Prometheus for a time with all my schemes. As I grew older, my interest switched to history and politics. I cared more for how Sparta was ruled than for fighting purely for its honour."

"And pater didn't approve?"

"Pater didn't understand." Brasidas shrugged. "Politics, history... these were things he considered less important. My interest in them only seemed to anger him. He used to joke that I was the most Athenian of Spartans... but it was never something that he took pride in."

"He sounds as blind as Nikolaos." Kassandra shook her head, his words ringing all too familiar. "You fight better than most Spartans I've met, but a country needs more than just warriors. I don't pretend to understand the Athenians and their symposiums but their enthusiasm about philosophy and learning isn't always a sign of weakness."

"And that is why I like you, Kassandra. You've travelled, seen the world for what it really is. Seen both Sparta and Athens for what they truly are. People like us see the best and the worst in both. Our paters are from a different world. A different time."

"For all his faults, Nikolaos was always proud of me. He found no weakness in showing it. I can't imagine what it was like for you."

"It was a childhood, no worse of better than any other. My pater was a great man and I was fortunate to have my brother." Brasidas smiled fondly. "Just as you are fortunate to have Myrrine.”

"And what if I'm a disappointment?" Kassandra's voice faltered at that, her anxieties suddenly crashing back to the forefront of her thoughts. She looked up at him with worried eyes. "What if she expected more?”

"There isn't a mater in the world who wouldn't be proud of you. Believe me, you couldn't be anything more if you tried."

"And you are biased." Kassandra shook her head, her hands reaching up to comb her fingertips through her knotted hair. For once it was loose, hanging down past her left shoulder in unruly thick tendrils. It was only when the hair passed from between her fingers that she realised her hands were trembling. "We're getting close."

"Are you ready?"

"How can I be? I'm about to meet the woman I've feared dead for so long, a woman who thinks that I'm dead. How do you even begin to prepare for that?"

"I'm not sure you can." Without further word, Brasidas stood, a fluid movement that startled her with its suddenness. Half expecting him to leave, Kassandra watched closely as he stepped around her, lowering himself to his knees again behind her on the bedroll. In an act of by now characteristic kindness, his hands chased hers away from her hair and he took it between his own fingers, gently pulling the strands into a braid identical to the one that she normally wore. "The Fates have already decided your path, Kassandra. All that remains is for you to follow their lead."

It was the gentlest gesture she could remember. His fingers were soft, knowledgeable as they twisted her hair together diligently, a constant ghosting presence against her scalp that brought with it more comfort than it should have. Without realising, Kassandra relaxed into his touch, long held tension dissipating from her shoulders and neck. She couldn't remember the last time such a small action had brought her so much peace, her heart aching for the closeness that she worked so hard to deny it.

And then it hit her like a wave. Phoibe. Memories of all the nights on Kephallonia when she would let her braid her long hair, whilst her friend spoke wistfully of eagles and blessings from Zeus. On those nights they had talked for hours, Kassandra telling Phoibe what little she remembered of Sparta whilst she told her tales of when her parents had been alive. Those nights had been the start of them becoming like family, Kassandra living in the fantasy of the childhood Phoibe had shared with her loving parents.

A childhood they'd both been robbed of all too soon.

Suddenly the pain was back, reminding her that Phoibe would never beg to braid her hair again.

Vulnerability followed in an instant, playing on her anxiety and pushing her over the brink. As Brasidas tied off her braid, Kassandra felt a tear slip from her welling eyes, the salty liquid painting a long, slow line down across her skin. She turned her head away, praying to whichever God might be listening that he wouldn't see her weakness, but with Brasidas nothing went unnoticed.

"Kassandra?"

"It's nothing." She shook her head dismissively, pulling her newly formed braid gently from his hands in the process. She turned, looking to where Ikaros sat on his perch and blinked away her remaining tears. "You just reminded me of Phoibe."

"There's no shame in feeling."

"But there is shame in weakness." Kassandra sighed, returning her gaze to his. "There's more honour in strength."

"Now who sounds like a stubborn Spartan?" Brasidas' smile possessed a warmth that blinded her and she faltered, transfixed by the creases that framed the very corners of his lips. "Don't turn into your pater, Kassandra. You'll break my heart."

With a tenderness that she'd denied herself of for so long, Brasidas reached forward, his thumb and forefinger resting under her chin and slowly lifting it upwards so that she looked upwards. All at once, Kassandra's heart thundered in her chest; the sudden realisation of just how close he was dawning on her. Frozen in place by brown eyes that had fully ensnared her, she was helpless to do anything else but watch as he pressed closer, his lips grazing hers with a gentleness that felt like a question.

His question didn't go unanswered for long.

She kissed him back, leaning into his touch, completely lost to every inch of him. For a single, blissful moment, they stayed that way, locked in a soft embrace that threatened to end them both. Brasidas never pushed for anything more, although his hand moved to frame her face, his thumb rubbing away the damp trail her tears had left behind. When he finally broke the kiss, he didn't withdraw, instead keeping their faces close as he rested his forehead against hers.

"We shouldn't." Kassandra spoke first, her words betraying her emotions as she struggled to save face. She didn't pull away, she didn't have the heart to, but the beating of it in her chest had her scrambling to save herself from falling further despite it all.

"... We aren't." Brasidas smiled, still so close that his breath tickled against her lips. "You think too much."

"And you don't think enough."

"Perhaps that's what the Fates intended." He pulled back at that, broadening the gap between them. For a moment there was silence, his lips parted as though he had more to add. Instead, he lowered his gaze, smiling to himself before moving to stand. Kassandra started to stand too, but his outstretched hand stopped her, a shake of his head telling her that he didn't expect her to follow. "Sleep first. Focus on your mater. I... should have picked my timing better."

With that, Brasidas was gone, the room feeling so much colder without his presence within it.

Ikaros squawked indignantly in the background, but Kassandra barely heard him, her hand tracing her lips as she fought to process the kiss they'd shared. Her mind was split, halved by the fear of letting him get so close and by the relief of knowing that he cared for her just as much as she cared for him. It was a strange duality, one that comforted just as much as it scared her.

He was a weak point, a chink in her armour to be exploited. But he was also a place of strength and comfort when she was determined to give herself neither. Perhaps Brasidas was right. Perhaps the Fates had made them to be as two sides of the coin on purpose. Or perhaps that was simply Kassandra's traitorous heart talking.

With the night only promising more questions and precious few answers, Kassandra took her friend's advice, rolling over towards the oil lamp that lit the small room and extinguishing it, plunging both herself and Ikaros into total darkness. Fumbling for her blanket in the darkness, she pulled its comforting weight up and around her body, settling into her bedroll and the warmth that came with it.

Perhaps a rested mind would bring the clarity she so desperately needed. Even if it didn't, at least the peace of sleep would give her relief from the emotions flooding her system, if only for a little while.

[tmorriscode]

Friends Help You Move, Real Friends Help You Move Bodies, Best Friends Help You Find Treasure (Rowan, MC) (1/2)

“(Y/N) you got a visitor!” Jean Luc sticks his head into your room and points back over his shoulder at the common room you share with all the curse breakers stationed in Athens.

You tuck the book under your arm and follow him to find Rowan sitting stiffly on the dodgy, ancient couch.

“What are you doing here?” You laugh as you hug your oldest friend. “I thought you were working in wood procurement at Olivanders?”

“That’s why I’m here!” She squints at your thick tome with it’s faded cover.

“Remedial defense,” you hold up the book to show her. “Everything we should have learned from that beastly string of DADA professors at Hogwarts.”

“But you always did well at dueling.” Rowan says.

“Sure, against Merula. But she had the same useless teachers as we did. My supervisor said that I need to know more than just bombardia, depulso and protego,” you shrug. “Bill says not to feel too badly. He had to go through remedial defense when he started, too.”

“Is he here?” Rowan perks up.

“Sorry Rowan, he’s stationed out of the Cairo office.” You wince, and change the subject. “What brings you to Athens?”

Rowan takes your hand and pulls you to the door. “I want to hire you!”

You glance over at Jean Luc, but your fellow curse breaker is making shooing motions your way. All of you take side jobs where you can. The goblins don’t yet give you too much in the way of base pay. Until you find your first big cache of treasure (and reap a percentage of it in bonus pay) you’re all pretty much living paycheck to paycheck and splitting food and rent.

Once on the street, you take over and lead Rowan to a your favorite taverna. The patroness is just opening her doors, now that afternoon siesta is over. You order a plate of dolmades and two glasses of portokalada.

You sit and take a moment to study your oldest friend. She looks the same as she did months ago when you were buried under books and worried about NEWTS, if a little less tense.

For her part, she gives you a visual once-over. “I hardly recognize you,” Rowan says, touching your hair. You run your fingers through it.

Thanks to the rigors of work, you haven’t had time to get a haircut. Now your hair is past your shoulders, snarled and sun-faded from dark mahogany to an amber honey-color.

You’ve also lost the last of the softness that you’d always kept from eating giant sandwiches at Hogwarts. Now you are mostly muscle and sinew stretched beneath sun-bronzed, weatherbeaten skin.

“Mum told me the same thing last time I was home.” You chuckle. With Jacob home at last, mum is finally starting to act like a proper mother. She actually asked you when you were going to find a nice young man and settle down.

You didn’t have the heart to tell her that your nice young man was more interested in dragons than dating. And further, even if you could synch schedules enough to have a date, the two of you would probably pass out from exhaustion while watching muggle telly.

You did shoot Jacob a look over Mum’s shoulder, as if to say that he and Angelica might be Mum’s only hope for grandkids, unless she wants to rock a baby dragon or two.

Jacob’s response was to choke back a laugh so hard that pumpkin juice sprayed out of his nose.

Rowan clears her throat, bringing you out of your musing.

You blush at getting caught woolgathering. “You said you wanted to hire me?”

“Part of my job at Olivanders is translating the oldest records from Greek and Latin,” Rowan explained, “I’ve been working on the letters from the first Ollivander. Listen to this: ‘I find the wands made by these Briton druids to be of poor quality compared to my own. Each is made of oak, regardless of it’s suitability for the wizard, Oak being sacred amongst them.

Even worse, they do not hollow the wands to create magical cores, but instead wrap the magical elements around the outside of these crude sticks. This limits the magical elements to that which may be easily tied: hair of kelpie, veela, unicorn or thestral, feathers of augury, griffin or phoenix for example.

To my horror, I have seen multiple incompatible magical elements braided togeather and wrapped around the crude “wands.” Not only are wands of this sort temperamental, they are unpredictable, turning on their welders at moments of greatest need.

“I’ve taken as much wood from my own stores as I can carry. Olive and palm, laurel as well as a goodly amount of blackwood and red ivory wood purchased from Numidian traders, which produce wands of uncommon inflexibility.”

Rowan looks at you in excitement. “I can’t find any records of this storehouse. It isn’t a reference to his Gringotts vault, I checked. It’s possible that its still out there undisturbed, somewhere. If it is, Mr. Ollivander is interested in finding it.”

You put your chin in your hand. “What do you think you’ll find there? Stacks of ancient lumber?”

“Possibly some rare or extinct wood types,” Rowan said. Some types of palm, like the Judean date palm, went extinct centuries ago. We’ve bought muggle junk furniture made from rare wood at rummage or estate sales and auctions.”

“Mr. Ollivander is very choosy about the types of wood he uses. So I think this might be an intellectual curiosity for him. He told me that studying wand wood suitability is a lifetime pursuit. Then again, he has a whole back room full of experimental wands. On really rare occasions, one of them will choose a wizard. When that happens, Mr. Olivander closes up the shop and buys all of his employees a round at the Leaky Cauldron.”

“Have you seen that happen?” Laurel asked.

“I think Dreezy said it’s only happened once in the ten years he’s been with Ollivander.”

“Dreezy?”

“Is a free elf. Who do you think cleans up after all those wild-magic incompatible-wand accidents?”

“Fair enough.,” you shrug. “Do your records say where we might find this ancient storehouse?”

“No, but the original Ollivander was from Crete, so we might start there.”

You stuff a last dolmade in your mouth. “Crete is a pretty big island, so we might need to narrow it down a bit.”

“Fortunately, I carry my library with me everywhere I go,” Rowan pats her satchel.

You lean forward in your seat to see the book bag better. “Do you have an undetectable extension charm on that? I’m so jealous! If I had a bag with an extension charm on it, I’d live out of it!”

Several of your fellow cursebreakers do just that. That’s how you have six wizards living in a one-bedroom flat. But it’s not cheap to buy a bag like that. Most ministries control their sale. Fearing that if they became ubiquitous, the statutes of secrecy would get broken willy-nilly by careless wizards. They’re probably right.

“It’s handy for taking all the books,” Rowan sticks her head into the bag, and pulls out a thick wizarding travel guide to Crete. “According to this, Crete was peaceful up until around the late 4th century B.C., so around the time Ollivander left for Britannia.

“At that time, Knossos went to war against a neighboring Cretin city state, Lytton. The Knossians allied with Phillip of Macedon, while the Lyttonians allied with Sparta.”

“So we’d best narrow our search to around Knossos.”

—

A/N: so this one ran long and I ran out of room. You can read part 2 here.  You can find the masterpost to all my other imagines here. 

[the-good-spartan]

Posts about Ancient Greek History

Things I write to help process information and assemble my notes and thoughts for future reference.

This is an ongoing project. I will add more over time.

My focus is primarily the Arkhidamian (Archidemian) War with a particular emphasis on Sparta, but I'm currently widening my focus to include the First Peloponnesian War, the Messenian Wars, and the lives of Demosthenes (the General) and Thucydides (the Historian).

Sparta

Their Culture

Spartan scholars be like

Introduction and List of Chief Sources

Becoming a Spartan Citizen, Part One: The Agoge.

Becoming a Spartan Citizen, Part Two: The Phiditia & Contributions to the Mess

Food for Warriors.

Spartan Social Structure: Part One - The Helots || Rent? Contracts?

Spartan Social Structure: Part Two - The Perioikoi

Spartan Social Structure: Part Three - Spartan Women || A few notes on the Rites dedicated to Helen at Sparta

Spartan Social Structure: Part Four - The Hypomeiones

Stalkers in the Night: The Krypteia || Primary Sources: Krypteia

The Horses of Lakedaimon

The Spartan Political Structure: Damos, Ephors, Gerontes, Kings.

Spartan Men and their Hair || Examples of likely hairstyles

Felt Helmets

Rethinking the scale of Spartan mess and barrack buildings

Spartan Games

Ask: Did Homoioi Travel?

A Few Notes on 427 BCE: The Transfer of the Kingship at Sparta

Military History

Background to the Third Messenian War

The Third Messenian War c. 464 BCE

The Battle of Tanagra c. 457 BCE

Maps (Mostly Related to Brasidas' Campaigns during the Arkhidamian War)

Sparta || Amphipolis 1 || Amphipolis 2 || Koryphasion (Pylos) & Sphakteria || Korinth/Nisaia || Brasidas' Campaign in Makedonia

Sparta in Pop Culture

A Cry of Frustration

Response to Anti-Spartan Sentiment

A Few Notes on God of War: Ragnarok (the Spartan Stuff)

Spartan Armour (this ain’t it)

Thinking About Spartans Thinking

A Distinction Between Sparta and Lakedaimon

Contracts? Rent?

Spartans and Their Aversion to Ranged Warfare?

Posts About Figures in the Arkhidamian War

Brasidas, Son of Tellis.

Probable Timeline of Brasidas' Life

Brasidas' Ossuary

Demosthenes, Son of Alkisthenes (The General):

As a Catalyst to the Battles of Spahkteria and Pylos?

A Few Notes

Alternative to Thucydides' Version of his Death

Thucydides, Son of Oloros (The Historian):

The Way Thucydides Thinks

A Few Notes

Posts about Polytheism and Mythology (Roman & Hellenic) :

Lakonian Royal Lineage (Mythological) || Sparta in the Catalogue of Ships || Helen, Kastor, Polydeukes

Chief Gods worshipped at Sparta (Not Ares!) || The Gods Worshipped at Sparta - further details.

Related Posts:

Roman and Hellenic Mythology: They are not the Same Thing

Viewing History Through a Modern Lens

Graeco-Roman Art: A Cautionary Tale

[the-good-spartan]

WIP A Story Set in Sparta

For reasons best understood by Tumblr, my previous post of this poem broke so that only half of it could be seen. 

So. Here is a fresh post with the whole text. On the plus side, I have figured out how to format it since first posting, so that’s a win, I guess.

One: Pater/Adelphos 460 BCE

Outside the shifting trees roared with a coming storm. The room was dark as Brasidas woke only a small flickering lamp lit his mother’s sleeping face. The same cold breeze which stirred that flame chilled his child’s face and whistled through a tiny high window.

A gleam was lit - a glimmer of lamplight golden on shining bronze in the corner where darkness was. Heart fluttering with fear his eye discerned the carven face of his pater.

He might have been a statue of a hero in armour, a spear still clutched in one hand, as though it were welded there.

He was almost entirely still, turned inwards, looking upon his sleeping wife. No soft expression eased his lowered brow.

She stirred, disturbed. Sensing that something was amiss, she looked to that corner without hesitation.

This has happened before, Brasidas thought. How many times?

Tellis. Her voice barely a whisper. You shouldn’t be here.

He shifted then, glancing at the window. His voice when he replied a low rumble to challenge the distant thunder. I’m on my way back.

His face inscrutable, but still some thought was shared between them that only they understood.

She was on her feet in a moment, wrapping a cloak around squared shoulders A shield against the cold.

They went.

If they talked outside the door, he couldn’t hear them over the roaring of the wind outside, the rolling booms of thunder.

The boy slept;

it was only in the morning he saw the trail of blood up the stairs; the helot scrubbing at it; and a small boy he’d never seen before eating, wide-eyed, beneath his own mother’s hawkish gaze.

She saw Brasidas come down the stairs, and smiled though it never reached her eyes. Who’s this? he asked, bolder than usual. Adimantos, looking again at the boy. He’s to be your brother. Again, the immediate question. Why? Her tone was shorter this time. Because your pater says so. He’d worn his leeway thin.

Instead of further questions to her, he sat beside his new brother. Stared at him. He was already in the habit of judging condition, skill, ability. His tutor had taught him that, in preparation for his further education. This boy, Adimantos, was tall, taller than Brasidas, But scrawny, limbs all thin sticks, knobbly knees, sharp elbows. His expression was serious, mouth turned down at the corners, as he regarded Brasidas, chewing slowly.

Quiet and watchful, this new brother with a wary keen look.

Who are you? Adimantos hazarded. Brasidas, he answered promptly, son of Tellis. Who is your pater? His mater interceded. Who his father was, is irrelevant, Brasidas. He’s in the underworld now. Tellis is pater in his place. Brasidas accepted this, though he frowned, Curious and dubious about this brother’s birth. He’s Spartiate? Adimantos’ jaw tightened, a flicker of anger in his eyes. Of course, she said, sounding exasperated. Brasidas nodded, not taking his eyes from Adimantos.

But he was silent then, watching his new brother eat,  The morning filled by the sound of the helot scrubbing.

Brasidas longed to ask more questions: Whose was the blood on the stairs? What his father had meant by “on his way back”? Why did he have a brother he’d never seen before?

But he was used to not knowing, to the never answered questions, so he held his tongue.

[stormyblue90]

Remembrance

Decided to write a bit of a bittersweet Kassidas ficlet. I have another, happy idea to write later, but I wanted this one out of the way first. You can get a palate cleaner whenever I end up writing it!

Pairing: Kassandra/Brasidas Assasins Creed Odyssey

warnings: canon character death... and possible tears reading this...

Golden light from the evening sun glinted off the edge of a bronze shield, set beneath an old willow tree. Kassandra sat before the small memorial she had built in front of her childhood home. It was small, simple, and centered around an old, battle worn Spartan shield. A small engraved plaque lay before it, reading the name "Brasidas of Sparta, Son of Tellis and Argileonis of Sparta".

It was the anniversary of the Battle of Amphipolis and Kassandra spent much of the day mourning the loss of the great general, her love. She remembered their last night together before the Fates so cruelly snatched him away, sending him to Hades. Tears threatened to fall, as they always did when she thought of him on this day.

"And what of these?" Brasidas asked, tracing the prominent scars on Kassandra's right arm. She had nestled herself in his arms, head under his chin. Both in a state of undress due to their earlier lovemaking.

"A very nasty pack of wolves on Kephallonia." Kassandra replied, "They were terrorizing a small farm. I think I was only sixteen at the time. Before I really made a name for myself as a Misthios. Another, more experienced mercenary WAS going to hunt them down, but he was a braggart and I beat him to it."

Brasidas laughed lightly at the thought of a teenage Kassandra taking on a pack of wolves, no doubt determined to prove herself and show up an older prideful mercenary, and too stubborn to back down from such a challenge. "Why am I not surprised you started such a life so young?"

She shrugged. "Not much a choice really. When you've been trained to fight, and your...'caretaker' is a bumbling idiot, you learn quickly becoming a Misthios is your best option."

He gently nuzzled into her loose hair, kissing the top of her head. Both were silent for a moment, before Kassandra spoke up.

"But... I do sometimes wonder what a simpler life would be like." she admitted.

"Is that so? And what kind of life do you dream of?"

Kassandra thought about it for a moment. In truth she wasn't sure she'd ever have such a life. A lifetime of fighting, surviving, and since she left Kephallonia, on the run from all manner of enemies.

"I'm...not entirely sure." she answered, "I just know one things family, my family."

Brasidas smiled, "Well, you've already started on such a path. You have your mater, your old house."

Kassandra sobered, "Just...need to bring my brother back. I promised Mater after all."

They both knew that would be no simple task, if it could be accomplished. Alexios suffered a lifetime of torture and brainwashing at the hands of the Cult, to be twisted and warped into their weapon, Deimos. However if anyone could do it, it'd be the Eagle Bearer Kassandra. Brasidas was confident she'd fight the entire pantheon if she had to.

"You will. I know it. You're too strong and stubborn." he replied, causing a small chuckle to erupt from Kassandra, lightening her mood. "But... perhaps you could have more." he added, a sense of unsureness in his voice as he trailed off.

Kassandra lifted her head to look at him, "What do you mean?" she asked.

Brasidas momentarily averted her gaze, suddenly seeming nervous. Rather uncharacteristic of the brave and confident Spartan she knew.

"Well, perhaps in the future, when this is all over of course... and you've reunited your family, we- I mean you..."

"Yes?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

He swallowed the nervous lump in his throat. "You... would choose to be my wife?"  he finished, finally meeting her gaze again.

Kassandra's eyes widened and her eyebrows shot up at his proposal. His eyes looked so nervous and vulnerable, afraid she'd say no and break his heart.

"I-I would not stop you from taking contracts, and I understand if you don't want to-" he quickly stammered, feeling like she'd reject him, she was a misthios, always on the move after all. Settling down just didn't seem like something she'd WANT; dream of perhaps, but not actively pursue it.

Brasidas' fears were quickly expunged from his mind as Kassandra's lips slammed into his own, her hands cradling his face.

"Yes! By the gods YES!" She answered when she pulled away, a huge smile beaming on her face.

Brasidas returned with an equally bright smile of his own as she pressed her forehead against his. He kissed the tip of her nose as she laughed joyfully.

"I love you." He whispered.

"And I love you." Kassandra replied, kissing her lover once again.

A single tear fell down Kassandra's cheek at the memory. That had been their last night together. The Battle of Amphipolis tragically ripped him from her life.

While she had succeeded in bringing her brother home, she'd be lying if she said there wasn't a small part of her that wanted to kill him for taking Brasidas from her. However Kassandra pushed that thought out of her mind. It was the monster Deimos and the Cult that killed her lover, not her brother. Not Alexios.

She did promise Myrrine she'd do whatever it took to bring him back. Kassandra also had other reasons for sparing him, one BECAUSE of Brasidas. She learned from him that not every solution has to end in death when she spared Lagos and saved his family. However one she had yet to reveal to her mother at the time. A reason she only discovered shortly after finding out Aspasia was the Ghost of Kosmos, and killing her. After that, she refused to spill any more blood if she could avoid it.

"Mater!" a small voice called, pulling Kassandra out of her memory and back to the present.

A little girl of six came running out of the house, carrying wooden dolls in her hands. Kassandra turned towards her daughter. Every time she looked at her, she saw Brasidas, their daughter looked so much like him. She had his pale, hazel-brown eyes. However it wasn't just the color that was the same, but the compassionate nature he possessed in them as well; but like him could be filled determined ferocity.

"Yes Phoibe?" Kassandra answered as the little girl ran over and settled herself in her mother's lap.

"They're finished!" Phoibe exclaimed, holding up the little wooden dolls she carried.

"Oh did Grandmater help you with those?" Kassandra asked.

Phoibe nodded, "Uh-huh. And Grandpater too!"

Of course he did. Kassandra thought, it seemed Nikolaos was doing everything possible to be the father he couldn't long ago for his granddaughter. From the moment he first held little Phoibe, he vowed he wouldn't make the same mistakes again with his family. He'd make it up to the children and wife he failed a lifetime ago.

Phoibe showed off the dolls as she placed them on the memorial, in front of Brasidas' shield.

"Here's Pater!" she explained, placing a wooden doll depicting a man with a shield, spear, and red cloth for a cloak wrapped around it. "Aaaand you Mater..." she continued, this time a figure of a woman with a broken spear in hand. "Then ME!" she exclaimed as she placed a much smaller child figure in front.

Kassandra smiled warmly, Phoibe loved making little dolls and other toys with her grandparents. "Aren't you forgetting some?" She asked.

"Oh yeah!" Phoibe dug into her pocket and pulled out a tiny, bird shaped carving. "Ikaros!" She cried, as the the eagle himself cheeped happily from the tree branch he was perched on.

"I didn't have enough material to make everyone else though... But I will!" she admitted. "Uncle Alexios said he wanted to help this time when he comes back."

"Did he now?"

Phoibe nodded. Alexios always left Sparta on this day, likely the guilt and shame he felt was too much to stay around his sister and niece. He still blamed himself for Kassandra losing her lover, for his niece never knowing her father. Even if Kassandra eventually forgave him.

She still remembered the look of intense pain and guilt on his face when Phoibe asked why she didn't have a father like her friends. She was four at the time. There was no point in lying to her. They told her the truth, that her beloved uncle killed him before she was born. However Alexios said it was a monster called Deimos inside him that killed the girl's father. He wasn't wrong, but when he admitted it he was terrified the niece he came to love would hate him. She never did. When she asked if the monster was gone, he nodded, saying he and his family killed it a long time ago. It was then she hugged him tightly, saying he wasn't a monster, he was her uncle, and she still loved him. Alexios broke down in tears and hugged her back when she said it.

Phoibe spoke up again. "He said he wanted to help because he wanted to make sure I made him look really strong and powerful... and to make Uncle Stentor ugly enough."

Kassandra snorted as she laughed, hugging her daughter close as she giggled back. "I see then." she answered.

For a few minutes she just held Phoibe close, admiring her daughter's handiwork. She was getting better at making her little toys. Her daughter was a fast learner both in creating toys, and in fighting. Kassandra made sure to keep with the family tradition of training her daughter to fight as well as the Spartan boys, better she hoped.

"Do you think Pater would be proud of me? I pray to Hermes all the time that he gets my messages." Phoibe asked innocently.

Kassandra kissed the top her head. "He IS proud of you Phoibe. And he loves you so much." She answered.

"Really?" Phoibe replied, looking up.

"Yes. He lives in Elysium now, and Hermes brings him ALL of your messages." Kassandra answered. "And one day, a loooooooong time from now, after you've had thousands of adventures, you'll get to see him. You'll get to tell him everything yourself."

"And Great Grandpater too!" the little girl added.

"Oh yes, him too. In fact I bet your Pater and he are fishing together in Elysium."

"Catch a big one Pater!" Phoibe called out towards the sky, causing another laugh to erupt from her mother.

While Brasidas had been taken from her life, he was not truly gone. He still lived on in her memory, in their daughter. It was during these moments, as Kassandra held her daughter in front of his memorial, on this day every year, she felt his presence beside her. Enveloping her as if hugging her and their daughter. As if his spirit was granted a brief visit from Hades on this day, to spend a small moment with his family until the day they could be reunited in Elysium.