Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Raise the sails,” he commanded. It would be dangerous to continue depending on the wind in this kind of weather. They must row in order not to wreck themselves.

“This storm reminds me of my early days at sea.” Despite the raging storm, Barnabas seemed enthusiastic. His remaining eye stared at the horizon, perhaps reminiscing about his early days at sea.

“Why?” Alexios asked. 

Barnabas glanced at him then back at the waters. “We were sailing to Messara that time. The Adrestia was young and all of us were not that experienced yet. When we reached the Volcanic Islands, we encountered a storm so fierce I thought Poseidon had brought us all his fury upon us. We lost two men—I still remember their names to this day.”

Through the storm, Alexios looked at the fading view of where they just came from: Thera, one of the Volcanic Islands. “You’re not really helping with that tale, Barnabas.” Before they departed, he watched the sky and the waves far beyond through Ikaros's eyes. He flew far, far. just marveling at the turquoise waters and the thin wisps of clouds in the air. Alexios saw none of that now. The calm waves were replaced by dark tides and the sky was grey like ash. The sea was angry, it longed to kill everyone sailing on it. 

"What?" Barnabas released a husky laugh. “That is not what I mean.”

Alexios surveyed his crew. These brave warriors traveled with him everywhere he went, valiantly fought with him no matter the enemy. From the shores of Kephallonia to the sea past the island of Lesbos—they had been through so much in such a short time. If it wasn't for his duties, Alexios could have reached Persia by just sailing in the Aegean and singing along the sea shanties of his men. Did Barnabas think he would lead them to slaughter? “I know. And don't worry because I will not—“

Herodotos suddenly stood from his seat behind them and cut Alexios’s words. He hurriedly pulled his hood back and pointed at the horizon. “Look at that.”

Baffled, Alexios just looked at the direction and narrowed his eyes, the storm making it difficult to see anything. He saw glimpses of arrows coming from what looked like a pirate ship. He released the nervous breath he'd been holding and looked back to Herodotos. “Sea battles are completely normal, Herodotos. We’ve been through many,” he assured. Alexios didn’t understand why he looked so alarmed. It was the first time he'd seen him act so differently from his calm demeanor. 

“No, it’s a merchant ship," Herodotos said. 

He cast his gaze in the direction for the second time. Alexios then saw what he was so worried about. The sails of what looked like an aristocrat’s ship were ripped apart, its hull was on fire despite the rain and it was stranded n the middle of an onslaught. The pirate trireme released another fire volley. He expected that the pirates would be boarding the ship to kill the passengers and claim the loot anytime soon.

“We have to help them,” Herodotos insisted. When Alexios looked at to his left, the determination the man’s eyes to save the ship was convincing. But to his right, Barnabas was looking quite the opposite.

“I’m not sure,” Barnabas said. “It’s too dangerous. Look at the sky.”

Just when Alexios thought he had seen everything—a Cyclops, the Minotaur, the Sphinx, and Medusa herself—another one adds up to the extraordinary list. Dark clouds were gathering above the ships, circling like it was going to suck everything into the air. Thunder and lightning clashed around the whirling anomaly and Alexios also noticed the sky became darker as they approached. Minutes ago, it was only dusk but now it suddenly looked like midnight. “Malaka, what is that?” he asked, more to himself. How could the pirates themselves stay focused on attacking that pitiful ship and not pay attention to what was happening around them?

“If we do not save them, they will die to those Pirates,” Herodotos said.

“If we save them, we will perish in that storm,” Barnabas retorted.

Alexios knew that the pirates had their reasons for attacking the other ship. He remembered Xenia, pirate queen in Keos. The same person who helped his mother. The pirates desired to rise in the war raging between the Athenians and Spartans. He even helped them a number of times but that was it. Alexios wasn’t a fan of their intentions. He couldn’t stand seeing the pirates kill innocents, storm or no storm.

Alexios's mind was being torn by the two men he trusted the most. He scanned his crew and glanced at the fearful thing in the sky. But by the gods, what is that? Should he risk all of their lives in a storm to save some merchants? Or should he simply stay away and forget everything about this encounter?

He made his decision quickly.

Alexios glanced at Barnabas then to Herodotos. With a heavy heart, he said, “I can’t leave them. They’re in my hands now.” He stared at the horizon and said aloud, “More speed!”

“Be careful. We’re heading too fast in the middle of a storm,” Barnabas reminded.

"Don't worry," Alexios simply assured him even though he himself was not certain of what would happen. The constant rocking of the ship was making him slightly dizzy and the pounding on his chest made him want to just tear his heart out and throw it to the sea. Something did not feel right.

As the Adrestia drew nearer to the ship and the strange anomaly in the sky, the fog began to clear. The pirate trireme was now slowly approaching the ship. What remained of the latter were red tattered sails with the image of a lion. Unlike the usual army ships, this one had a grand deck and hulls decorated with colorful, intricate patterns. It was a luxurious ship; it wasn’t built to survive storms like this one. “That is not just a merchant ship,” Barnabas said, perhaps forming the same conclusion in Alexios's mind.

“The Cult of Kosmos,” Alexios muttered. Only members of the Cult had access to ships as fine as this. "I ended them all. I've even killed Aspasia. How could this happen?"

Thunder roared above the them. A strong wave slammed against the sides of the ship, shaking everyone on board. Alexios tried to focus but his limbs were beginning to feel weak. And for the first time, nausea was clawing at the back of his mind. He shook his head and clenched his fists, trying to stay alert. “Archers, take your marks.” At his command, the crew prepared their arrows. “Volley!”

The Adrestia and the pirate trireme exchanged a few rounds of arrows before it was clear who would survive. Alexios didn’t want to linger in this place anymore. He just wanted to end this fight quickly. Something was just not right. He glanced at Barnabas and Herodotos but both men were speechless. The crew did not seem unnerved, though. The dark, whirling clouds, the tall waves, the lightning, and the deafening thunder—it felt as if Poseidon himself was telling him to abandon this foolish quest. “Let’s end this. Increase speed!”

The Adrestia rammed the center of the pirate ship so hard that the latter split into two. The dark sea swallowed it almost immediately, leaving flotsam and corpses food for the sharks. As the crew cheered on their quick victory, Alexios shifted his gaze to the remaining ship. He held firm as a strong wave once again surged against the hull. “Let’s board the other ship.”

“I don’t think there’s anyone left in there,” Odessa, his lieutenant, said. The fires brought by the pirate attacks were not being doused despite the rain. The deck was in chaos. Water was pouring inside the holes on the hulls quickly. Alexios scanned for any survivors left but found it difficult to see any movement. She could be right.

“What do we do, commander?” Arete, his mercenary lieutenant, asked.

“Let’s check. If there’s none then we leave immediately.” It was a beautiful ship, grand and designed to cut through waves quicker than usual ships. Its figurehead was a majestic sculpture of a lion bearing its fangs. Based on all his experiences, cultists at sea were always aboard elite ships. But they were never attacked by pirates. The pirates assisted them. If not a cultist, who is in here then?

Alexios was the first to board, followed by Odessa, Arete, then two soldiers, each of their steps producing a creak. He glanced at the sky and looked for any signs of Ikaros but the eagle was mysteriously out of sight this time. At the other end of the ship, Alexios heard clashing of two swords. Then a loud scream—a feminine scream. The smoke and the thunder were as loud as the waves but didn't stop him from hearing what sounded like Persian words. “Stay sharp,” he reminded, pulling out his weapons and preparing for a fight. 

“Did you hear that?” one of the soldiers asked.

“It means ‘just die,’” the other replied.

“You understand Persian?”

“I do but only a little.”

“How did you even?” Arete asked. 

“Quiet, you three,” Odessa said. Alexios first met Odessa when he was obtaining Penelope’s Shroud in Ithaka. Since then, they met a few more times in unexpected ways and eventually became friends. Just like him, Odessa always sought adventure, and she found it in the sea.

“Malaka. Perhaps this was a big mistake,” he muttered.

Once they carefully threaded through the burning part of the ship, Alexios’s eyes widened. The dread and the sickness he'd been feeling ever since Herodotos suggested saving this ship all crashed down upon him like a rock. “Malaka,” one of the soldiers cursed. A pirate stood in front of him, an arrow lodged in his eye. Another one was embedded through his throat. The man covered his throat and tried to stop the bleeding by his hands. Then he collapsed, just inches from Alexios's toes, revealing the attacker. In front of him stood a girl with fierce (E/C) eyes. Her stance was that of a killer, yet her face was masked with innocence. The girl had no weapon. She had a quiver full of arrows, though, but no bow was in sight. More pirates killed in the same manner surrounded her. 

Everyone released the anxious breath they’d been holding. It‘s just a girl. Alexios sheathed his spear and stepped closer. The looked as if she was offended and spoke in Persian. He glanced at his crew who understood Persian but he was speechless at what he just witnessed. Alexios sighed and faced the girl who was now pulling out an arrow from her quiver. He did not want to die like that pirate so he asked immediately, "Do you speak Greek?"

She nodded but did not put away the arrow. Great. "I do not mean you harm. We actually killed the pirates who were attacking your ship.” Above him, Ikaros flew past and made a high-pitched sound. The sea was becoming calmer, both the thunder and lightning were retreating to the clouds. Alexios glanced at the body by his feet then back to the girl’s piercing stare.

She replied, but an accent made it quite difficult for Alexios to understand. “Who are you? What do you want?"

"I’m a mercenary.”

Her brows knitted together. “A misthios then. Mother told me to be wary of your kind.”

On another day, he could've given her a witty reply. But a faint headache was pounding at his head and fatigue was laced in his bones. He could only shrug. “Is there anyone else in this ship alive?”

The girl shook her head. “They were all killed,” she replied casually. She spoke with no remorse as if she didn’t spend a long time with the crew and other passengers. Perhaps that was true.

He glanced at Odessa and received a nod. “Come aboard with us." She pointed at the Adrestia. “You can’t stay in this ship forever. It’s gonna fall apart. We won’t hurt you.”

She muttered something to herself in Persian before agreeing to her suggestion. 

They quickly returned to the Adrestia to avoid the falling debris. The girl remained just a step away from his ship, doubt and worry etched on her face. “Here,” Alexios said, extending his hand. He understood her hesitance. She did not look like a commander or a crew, but her clothes indicated that she was of high status. For all he knew, the vessel could be her last connection to Persia.

The girl met his gaze before holding his hand and stepping onto the ship. Despite her fierce look, her hand was cold and trembling slightly. 

Barnabas was the first to greet her, a wide smile plastered on his face. “Welcome to the Adrestia!” Herodotos followed and greeted her next.

The girl returned the smile. She was covered in blood and her (H/C) was a mess. Her smile looked like the smile a man would be terrified to see before his death, Alexios thought. He pushed the thought at the back of his mind. “Where is your commander? I would like to thank him," the girl said.

Barnabas dramatically motioned to Alexios. “The eagle-bearing misthios, Alexios of . . . “

Alexios realized he was still holding the girl’s hand. He glanced at their entwined hands, then back at her who happened to be staring at him too. They both let go at the same time. An awkward air just settled between them, Alexios didn’t know why. The girl looked away, to Barnabas, to the sails, everywhere. No one seemed to notice though. “I’m Alexios. A mercenary."

He noticed her consider each of his crew, all of which looked like they were waiting for her to speak. She still held the arrow—her only weapon—on the other hand. “I’m (Y/N).” Silence. Like everyone else, Alexios found himself waiting for more than that. But instead of cowering, the girl did the opposite and raised her chin in confidence. “I'm (Y/N), Princess of Persia.”