Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“So, Alexios,” Myrrine said casually, the family gathered round the table for dinner. “Nikolaos and I have spoken. It's time for you to be married.”

Alexios froze, a chunk of lamb nearly in his mouth. Kassandra's eyebrows rose, and a scowl began gathering on Stentor's brow. “Married? Just like that?”

“Of course,” said Myrrine, serenely, reaching for the pitcher of wine. “As the eldest you are the heir to House Agiad, and so it falls to you to be married and produce an heir. We've had several inquiries for your hand already since we've returned.”

Alexios let his hand fall, his face going flat and blank. When he spoke again, his voice was hard. “You want me to get married. Here. In Sparta. And raise a child, again, here. In Sparta.”

Nikolaos raised one eyebrow and set his cup down, gesturing with his other hand to cut off Stentor before the young man could speak. “Of course here in Sparta. Is there a problem, Alexios?”

“I don't know, father. You tell me how I could possibly have a problem raising a child here in Sparta. Where you threw me off a mountain when I was ten years old because a corrupt woman told corrupt old men to murder your baby daughter. Where boys are sent off to the agoge at seven years old to live or die at the hands of brutal trainers. Who wouldn't want to raise a family here?”

Nikolaos shifted uncomfortably, lowering his eyes, and Myrrine slapped her hand down on the table. “Alexios, you are the heir--”

Alexios gestured sharply. “I’m not even a Spartan citizen except by the declaration of Archidamos. I never trained in the agoge. Let Stentor marry and continue House Agiad. He is a much better Spartan than I am, and a much better heir for Nikolaos. What do I have to offer? I'm a mercenary, mother, and I don't want to marry anyone in Sparta, much less have children here.”

“Our bloodline is too important!”

Kassandra coughed into her hand as Alexios started to laugh. Stentor turned beet red. “Don't worry yourself, mama, I've spread our precious bloodline across the Aegean. Even a few Spartan women wanted the Eagle Bearer himself in their beds. The bloodline will continue, even if it isn't a part of House Agiad.”

Nikolaos rubbed at his eyebrows with his fingers and thumb. “Alexios, regardless of your behavior on your adventures, the time has come for you to be a respectable Spartan citizen. You simply cannot continue unmarried and participate in the fullness of Spartan civic life.”

Alexios shoved the bench back from the table, standing in a fluid motion. “Did anyone stop to think that perhaps I don't want to participate in it? I've seen more than enough of Spartan civic life and I'm not raising a family here where Mount Taygetos feeds on the blood and bones of children.” He strode to the chest where his weapons and armor had been laid away after the defeat of the Cult of Kosmos, pulling on his cuirass with a smoothness born of long practice. Ikaros made an inquiring noise from a perch by the door.

“What are you doing?” Myrrine demanded.

“Leaving. I'm a mercenary, that's what we do.”

“Where will you go? This is your home, Alexios.”

“Anywhere but here. This hasn't been my home since I was thrown off Mount Taygetos.” Alexios slung his bundled weapons across his back and yanked the door open, Ikaros hopping to his shoulder as he disappeared into the night, the door slamming shut with finality behind him.

Fast footsteps and a skidding stop behind Lykaon alerted him to the arrival of one of the boys the Spartans employed as messengers even before the lad burst out, “Doctor! Doctor! There are men here to see you, all the way from Athens!”

“I'm coming, child,” he said wearily, pushing himself up from where he knelt checking the work of an apprentice who had bandaged this particular soldier. The apprentice had done well, but it wouldn't matter in the end. The wound was bad, in the gut, and all they could really do was keep the Spartan comfortable with painkillers and wait to see if he lived or died.

Lykaon trudged out of the tent into the last light of the sun, wiping his hands on a rag. Two men stood amid the tired murmuration of the army camp post-battle, clean and wearing elegantly draped clothing. One was bald, the other pug-nosed and ugly. “Gentlemen,” he said. “I am Lykaon Arkadiou, the physician here. You wanted to see me?”

“Ah yes,” said the bald man. “I am Hippokrates Heraclidou of Kos, and my companion is Sokrates Sophroniscou of Alopeke. We're looking for a mercenary.”

“Hippokrates of Kos? The physician? I-- I read your latest treatise, I've read all of them, I have wished to study with you. It is a great honor to have you standing here. How can I help you? A mercenary, you say? I sent apprentices ahead to treat them, the Spartans contracted with me to care for the mercenaries who fought with them as well as for their own soldiers. It's this way.” Lykaon began to lead them to the edge of the camp, where a shabbier tent stood. He was aware he was babbling but somehow helpless to stop it.

“Indeed,” said the man identified as Sokrates. “A friend of ours, Alexios Nikola--” He was forced to catch Lykaon by the elbow as the thinner man stumbled.

“Alexios Nikolaou? A mercenary named Alexios Nikolaou? The Lakedaimonian? The Eagle Bearer? You think he's here?” Lykaon clutched at Sokrates's arm, remembering a ready smile, kind hands, and dark, dark eyes a man could fall into and never come out.

Sokrates raised both eyebrows. “Yes, that Alexios. Medium sized, disinclined to philosophy, starts battles as a profession if no one keeps him out of trouble.”

“We've-- we've met.” Lykaon released the other man's arm and turned, now hurrying toward the tent where the Spartans had gathered the mercenaries that survived the battle. “What makes you think he's here?”

Hippokrates chuckled drily. “When a battle breaks out in a previously stable deme, it does make a person suspicious. He disappeared from Sparta some weeks ago, and his sister contacted us asking us to look for him. We think he was behind the unrest in Megaris and Boiotia, but we weren't fast enough to catch him in either place. Then the Athenian general in Phokis died suddenly and in mysterious circumstances and we hurried this way.” A plaintive call interrupted him as they drew close to their destination. “And that's Ikaros, if my ears don't mistake me. At least we haven't missed him again.”

Lykaon led the way into the tent, pausing to let his eyes adjust to the dimness before sweeping them over the two rows of men lying here. Several of them lay very, very still. A few sat up, testing bandaged limbs. Across the tent, lying down, was a figure covered by a red chlamys he recognized, and he rushed that way, falling to his knees beside the pallet, his heart a painful thumping in his chest. “Alexios?” he whispered.

Alexios opened one eye, the other swollen shut, and something Lykaon could hardly bear blazed in his face. He clawed back the cloak covering him enough to grope for the doctor, who caught his hand, his fear a little relieved to find Alexios's grip strong and sure. Lykaon pressed his lips to the back of the mercenary's hand. “Alexios, what are you doing here?”

Alexios parted his lips, wincing a little as it reopened a split on his bottom lip, but then his eye flicked up over Lykaon's shoulder. “Who's this? Hippokrates? Sokrates? Why are you in Phokis?”

It was Sokrates who answered. “Your sister sent us looking for you after you left Sparta with never a word. We just missed you in Boiotia and Megaris. Then we heard about Athens's general and hurried here.”

Alexios closed his eye, blowing out a gust of breath. “I don't want to be found,” he rasped, his hand holding fast to Lykaon's. “Go home, Sokrates. Don’t tell Kass anything. She'll only tell Myrrine and Nikolaos where to find me. Hippokrates can stay and help Lykaon, then he can go home too.”

Lykaon rested the fingertips of his free hand against the pulse in Alexios's wrist, finding it fast but strong. Feeling greatly daring, he moved it to first brush the backs of his fingers against Alexios's cheek, then stroked the mercenary's hair gently. He watched, wondering, as the man's breathing slowed and deepened a little at his touch. Behind Lykaon, Hippokrates and Sokrates exchanged a look.

“I will stay,” said Hippokrates. “I have a feeling Lykaon might appreciate having another physician to assist him. And certainly no one is going to tell Kassandra anything without your consent, Alexios. We were all worried. Your line of work is dangerous, after all.”

Lykaon twisted around as far as he could without removing the hand stroking Alexios's hair. “Thank you. Your assistance will be invaluable. You and Sokrates both are welcome here, and I name you guest-friends. My home is open to you. You will find it just east of the animal pens near the agora.”

Both men recognized a dismissal when they heard one and murmured their farewells before picking their way out of the tent. Lykaon watched them go and then turned back to the man before him. “They're gone.”

Alexios opened his eye wearily. “Thank the gods. I don't know which of them is worse. Soon they'll have my whole family coming to Phokis to collect me.” He squeezed the doctor's hand. “I missed you, Lykaiskon.”

With a deft, gentle touch, Lykaon ran his fingertips along Alexios's eyebrows, soothing the tension away from his brow. “I could wish you were in somewhat better condition. Where are you hurt?”

“It's nothing important. Some bruises, some scrapes, a little bit of a stab that got through my armor by not my ribs. And I stopped a shield with the side of my face.”

Lykaon squeezed Alexios's hand. “I think you're supposed to get out of the way of those blows, my dear.”

Alexios started to chuckle, then winced. “Please don't make me laugh. I was busy stabbing a polemarchos at the time.”

Lykaon sighed. “Since you'll probably live, what are you doing here?”

Alexios fastened his intense gaze on Lykaon's face. “I came here to see you. But you were gone, and no one would tell me where you were. I looked and looked, all over Phokis, Lykaon. I thought you were dead. So I decided I would tear the deme apart around me until I found you. And look, it worked.”

Lykaon shook his head and leaned down to brush his lips across the mercenary's forehead. “Oh, my love. My darling man. My sister, Agave, moved to Boiotia, but was frightened after war broke out. So I went to help her move home. We got here just in time to hear that the Athenian general had died, and for me to answer a notice I found from the Spartans asking for doctors. And here we are. You can't start a war just because you don't get your way, Alexiskos.”

The mercenary closed his eye as Lykaon began stroking his hair again. “I thought you were dead. No one would tell me.” He could hear the petulant note to his own voice but seemed powerless to stop it. “If I'd found your grave I would have burned it all down.”

Lykaon sighed. “We'll talk about it later. For now, this is a terrible place to recover. Can you walk or shall I have the captain provide a litter?”

“For you I will fly like Pegasos. Tomorrow, maybe, after some rest.”

“Which you won't get here. My house will be much better for you, fresh air and sunlight and an actual bed.”

Alexios's eye flew open and he clenched his hand on Lykaon's. “Your house? Where you just sent Sokrates? And you think it will be restful?”

“Shhhh. I can defend you from one philosopher.”

“And when you're seeing to patients?”

“I think perhaps the tactful and accommodating Hippokrates realized there is only one patient who concerns me right now.”

Alexios smiled wearily. “Fetch the litter, then.”

Lykaon reluctantly released the mercenary's hand and set it on Alexios's chest, giving his hair one last gentle stroke. “It will be fine. You'll see.”

The trip by litter was worse than Alexios liked to admit, even with Spartan discipline keeping the bearers in step and cutting the jolts by half. By the time they reached Lykaon's house he was sweating and gripping the sides, his teeth gritted to keep from making a noise. The doctor fretted beside him the entire way, but he couldn't bring himself to care about word making its way back to Stentor and then to Nikolaos. If the word that his eldest son had fled to a male lover kept Nikolaos from trying to marry him off, it was all to the good.

Lykaon installed him in bed in the bedroom upstairs, with the shutters open to admit the breeze and clean linen that smelled of sunshine, and then went down to see what food was in the house. Alexios could hear the three familiar voices below, speaking quietly to each other. The sense of safety and peace had been unfamiliar of late, and he couldn't quite let himself relax into it for fear it would disappear as soon as he closed his eyes.

Footsteps on the stairs and the smell of food announced Lykaon before his dark, curly hair showed above the floor. He smiled to see Alexios watching him, his hands full of a bowl and a cup. “Nothing exciting tonight, I'm afraid. Some soup, and some well-watered wine with a painkiller in it. Then we'll see how well my apprentices did cleaning you up. Can you sit up by yourself, or would you like help?”

Alexios began struggling to get himself upright, and Lykaon rushed to set down his burdens next to the bed and assist. Finally, the mercenary leaned back against pillows, his lips tight and his breathing quick. Lykaon brushed his hair back from his face gently. “Breathe, Alexiskos. This will pass.”

Making an effort to smile, Alexios reached up and caught Lykaon's hand. “Thank you. For finding me, when I couldn't find you.”

Lykaon blushed. “If I'd known you were coming, I'd have waited for you before I left for Boiotia.”

Alexios kissed the backs of Lykaon's fingers, his stubble prickling against the other man's skin. “If I'd known your sister was in Boiotia, I would have turned down the job.”

Lykaon cleared his throat and picked up the bowl of soup. “What's done is done. Agave is well, she's back here in Phokis and caring for our grandmother Praxithea again. And while I know you can't stay forever, I have you here for a little while, at least.”

Alexios accepted the bowl and sipped at the soup cautiously, then took a larger drink when the sip went over well. “What if I could?”

The doctor furrowed his brow. “What if you could what?”

“Stay forever. For as long as you wanted me to stay.”

“You don't need to make impossible promises to me. I know you have...obligations that require you to travel.”

Sighing, Alexios finished off the last of the soup before setting the bowl aside. “It's been a long day, my heart, and I'm afraid I'm not being very clear. My obligations are done. I have left Sparta and my family. There is nothing now but my work, and my fees are enough that I don't need to take every job.”

Lykaon pressed the cup of wine into Alexios's hand. “Drink that. Of course I'd like you to stay. And at the moment I don't think you're up to leaving, anyway. Set aside all your worries, and concentrate on resting and healing, my dear. We'll sort out your future when you're up to it. But you have a place here as long as you want one.”

The mercenary took a gulp of wine to cover his attempt to swallow the lump in his throat, then made a face. “This tastes of bile and the kinds of things healers inflict on patients to assault them into getting better.”

Chuckling, the doctor motioned to him to continue drinking. “Hippokrates advised me on ingredients. You'll want it when we clean your wounds, he's discussed with me a method involving vinegar to prevent them becoming putrid. It was either painkillers, or we let Sokrates distract you. Was the wound on your ribs sewn?”

Alexios rolled his eyes, swallowing the rest of the wine quickly. “May the gods defend me from Sokrates. No, it was not. Your apprentices might have attempted it, but I didn't like the look of them and drove them off.”

“Silly man. I trained them myself, using the methods I learned from Hippokrates's treatises.”

“A mercenary has little reason to trust doctors, whichever army hired them. It's cheaper to let us die and take back our pay.”

Lykaon collected the bowl and took the cup from Alexios. “Well, you've no need to fear now. I don't intend to let you die when I've found you again, and in such an agreeable mood. I'll return in a moment with Hippokrates to clean you up, and then we'll let you rest. Your armor and weapons are in my chest downstairs, and Ikaros is preening by the fire. All is well, Alexiskos.”

Alexios let his good eye fall shut and leaned his head back against the pillows. “Maybe I can believe it now.”

He thought he must have lost some time dozing off. It seemed Hippokrates and Lykaon materialized beside the bed. His head was fuzzy from whatever had been in the wine, but he trusted both of them and floated in the warmth of the medication as Lykaon's deft hands unfastened the fibulae at the shoulders of his chiton. He smiled beatifically. “This was more fun last time.”

Lykaon blushed and Hippokrates tried to look stern as the younger doctor carefully folded back the length of cloth covering Alexios. The blush immediately disappeared and his face sobered. “I won't dispute that. I've seen you looking better.”

Hippokrates handed the younger doctor a bowl and a cloth. “Never fear, Lykaon. We'll have him back on his feet soon enough.”

Lykaon nodded. “Alexiskos, my dear, this isn't going to be pleasant even with the painkillers we gave you.” He gently moved the warrior's arm out of the way and pinned it with one knee, dipping the rag in the bowl of vinegar he held and beginning to clean the blood and grime from Alexios's side. The stab wound was a vertical slit with a shallow pocket behind it where the point of the spear had slid slightly against the rib. The area was bruised and discolored.

Hippokrates leaned down to look more closely at the injury. “I think we won't sew this one,” he said over the sound of Alexios swearing. “The inside must heal, then the outside, so that if there is pus it can escape. With it so close to the heart and lungs...”

Lykaon set the bowl and rag aside, stroking Alexios's cheek. “There, then. A clean bandage, and you're done until tomorrow, my dear. With this one.” Alexios clenched his jaw as Hippokrates helped him sit forward and Lykaon placed a pad of clean cloth against the wound, winding linen around him to hold it in place. After rearranging the pillows so Alexios could lie down, the two doctors lowered him carefully. “Let me just see to your minor wounds so they don't become major wounds, and you can rest.”

As Lykaon began tending to the scuffs on Alexios's knuckles and the shallow cuts on his forearms, Hippokrates discreetly retired downstairs. The mercenary's pain receded with the footsteps, Lykaon's voice quietly murmuring encouragement in his ears. “Stay with me.”

The doctor glanced up at him. “Hmmm?”

Alexios tightened his fingers on the hand gently cradling his own. “Stay with me tonight.”

Lykaon snorted. “My dear, I realize you're enjoying the opium but you're in no condition--”

“No. Just stay with me. So when I wake up I'll know this wasn't a dream.”

His expression softening, Lykaon gave Alexios's fingers a squeeze. “Of course. How thoughtless of me. Yes, of course I'll stay with you tonight.”

The tension melted out of the man's face and shoulders, his entire body seeming to slump as he said, “Thank you. I was so worried, when I came here and couldn't find you. I thought I’d lost you. I don't want to wake in the night and think I dreamed all of this.”

“Just let me take this bowl downstairs and clean it, and I'll be back. All really is well, my love.”

The mercenary let Lykaon's fingers slide from his, relaxing into the comfort of the mattress and the sound of voices from downstairs again. Finally, the peace carried him away.

The watery light of dawn and a full bladder woke Alexios. He came suddenly awake, lying very still as he tried to remember where he was and why. His head pounded, his side ached and burned, and the rest of his body was stiff and sore. Turning his head carefully, he found Lykaon still beside him, and memory came rushing back in. He smiled, then began carefully easing out of the bed. It took longer than he'd like, but finally he was on his feet, wrapping his chiton around him and fastening it at one shoulder before tying a belt loosely around his waist.

Padding quietly down the stairs, he found Sokrates and Hippokrates still asleep on couches, Ikaros perched on the back of a chair with his head under one wing. He made his way carefully outside to take care of his bladder, relieved as always after a battle to find no blood in his urine. Coming back into the house, he spotted Lykaon's chest and was checking to be sure his possessions were all present when he heard a quiet tread on the stairs.

“Leaving?” asked Lykaon, careful to pitch his voice low.

Alexios shook his head, closing the chest and pushing himself upright to go to him and rest his hands on Lykaon's waist. “No. Not unless you're asking me to. But it's difficult to rest without knowing how clean my blades are.”

The doctor smiled softly. “Of course I'm not asking you to leave. Come back to bed, Alexiskos, you need more rest.”

Alexios leaned his forehead gently against Lykaon's. “Are you coming with me?”

“If it's the only way to make you lie still a little while longer.”

“It is.”

“You drive a hard bargain, mercenary.” Lykaon slipped from Alexios's grasp and led him back up the stairs. “Besides, if we stay downstairs we'll wake my distinguished guests.”

Alexios slid back under the blankets, rolling onto his side so he could face the other man. “No one wants to deal with Sokrates questioning them at the first light of dawn.”

Lykaon laughed quietly. “I don't doubt it. But tell me what's happened to you since we last parted. You were so close to having your vengeance, to finding your sister.”

Alexios glanced down, finding one of Lykaon's hands and bringing it to his chest to cradle it there. “I did find the last of the Cult of Kosmos, and destroy them. And my mother and I found my sister, and we brought her home to Sparta. Then my parents began searching for a bride for me.”

The doctor found it difficult to breathe suddenly, his eyes searching Alexios's face. “I imagine there was no shortage of applicants,” he managed to choke out.

“I imagine not. But I don't want to marry and raise a family in Sparta. They threw me from a mountain there. They kill children in the agoge there. Even more...for these past many months, for so many people, I have been only a weapon. A tool to be aimed at their enemies, even for my parents. I thought... I thought when this was all over, perhaps that would change. Perhaps they would see me as a man.” Alexios stopped, breathing a little hard, and brought one warm, callused hand up to cradle the back of Lykaon's neck and gently touched his forehead to the doctor's. Lykaon, as always, was conscious of Alexios's strength, held carefully in check. “They didn't, Lykaiskon. Instead I became a tool for the expansion of the family's glory. You’ve always been the only one who just wanted me.”

Alexios smiled softly. “I was already thinking of coming back to you, but the night that they told me I must marry, I left their home and I left Sparta. I don’t want to be the Eagle Bearer, Lykaiskon. I just want to be Alexios who makes you happy.”

Lykaon brushed his lips against Alexios's, feeling his beard catch on the other man's stubble. “And Megaris? Boiotia?”

Alexios looked down. “And I was too angry to come directly to you. I was the weapon they wanted me to be. I didn't want to come to you like that. So I took a little work.”

Lykaon reached up with his free hand to lay the palm along Alexios's cheek. “Oh, you silly man, I would have been delighted to see you regardless. You should know that, by now.”

Alexios smiled and tilted his head just enough to capture Lykaon's mouth with his own, the kiss tender but with a little rising heat behind it. “I don't deserve you, healer.”

The doctor slid a little closer and tangled his legs up with the mercenary's. “Of course you do.”

Alexios kissed him again, hungrier this time, the hand at the back of Lykaon's neck tensing just enough to keep him close. His other hand pressed Lykaon's hand to his chest, where his heart beat strongly, speeding its rhythm just a little. “Do you think, if I were very careful not to exert myself more than my physician felt wise...” he murmured against Lykaon's lips, trailing off distractedly as he pressed his body into the other man's.

Lykaon laughed and nipped at Alexios's bottom lip gently. “Your physician thinks you should eat breakfast, and that later perhaps the eminent Athenians can be sent to the Spartan camp, or to consult the Oracle, and we will be able to have a proper reunion then.”

The mercenary groaned. “Let them hear us.” He kissed Lykaon, short and fierce, and then again. “I didn't ask them to come here, or my sister to send them. And it is possible I will die of longing if I can't feel your skin on mine.” He rocked his pelvis a little, his arousal evident.

Laughing again, a little breathlessly, Lykaon ran a firm hand down Alexios's back, reveling in having his lover back again. “Breakfast, Alexios. Then I'll sort out my responsibilities to my patients for the day. But I promise after that we'll find some time alone.”

Heaving a dramatic sigh, Alexios flopped onto his back, unable to suppress a wince as the movement jarred his side. “The gods are testing me. I should throw you over my shoulder and carry you away from all of your responsibilities.”

“As long as it's after that hole in your side closes up,” said Lykaon, levering himself out of bed and wrapping his himation around himself. “Perhaps the delayed gratification will teach you to parry or get out of the way faster.”

Alexios rolled his eyes, unable to keep a smile off his face nonetheless. “You drive a hard bargain, doctor.”

“Indeed I do. Come downstairs at your leisure, and we'll get some food into you. It's possible there was milk delivered yesterday that should have curdled nicely by now,” Lykaon said, as casually as he could manage but with a smile at the corners of his mouth.

His lover laughed. “You know me too well. For teganites I will even brave Sokrates first thing in the morning.”

By the time Alexios came downstairs a few minutes later, lured by the smell of the teganites, he managed a reasonable imitation of his usual saunter to the front door to stick his head outside. “Lykaiskon, can I help you with anything since these distinguished gentlemen are sitting like lumps?”

“You know where the honey and cheese are, and I know that you're going to make sad eyes at me if they're not on the table, so you might as well put them there,” Lykaon said from where he was sliding the last of the flat, unleavened cakes onto a stack of them. “I'll be right behind you.”

Alexios winked at him, then ducked back inside, leaving the door ajar, and went to fetch the honey and cheese, nodding to Sokrates and Hippokrates before placing his burdens on the table next to the plate Lykaon had brought in and dropping into a chair. “Chaire, friends. Did you sleep well?”

“Very well indeed,” said Hippokrates, reaching for the top cake and recoiling when Alexios swatted his hand away, deftly snagging it for himself. The mercenary blinked innocently at him and crumbled cheese over it before drizzling it with honey.

Lykaon laughed aloud. “My apologies, gentlemen, for failing to warn you that he gets possessive of breakfast treats. But now that he's got one, it should be safe for the rest of us.”

The rest of the men served themselves as Alexios stuffed the entire thing into his mouth, chewing contentedly. They all ate in silence for a few moments, until Sokrates looked up as the mercenary took his second teganite. “So what are your plans, Alexios?”

Alexios eyed the philosopher warily. “Plans? I thought I'd finish breakfast, then perhaps clean my armor and weapons while my doctor sees to his patients. After that we may disappear into the forest above Delphi.”

Hippokrates sighed and Sokrates rolled his eyes. “I meant in the somewhat longer term. Surely you can't intend to stay here in Delphi. Your family is worried. Don't you think family obligations are important?”

Alexios took a bite from his second pancake, shaking his head, then swallowing. “I'm not in the mood for your games, Sokrates. I do not think I have any particular obligation to a family that threw me off a mountain and has Stentor to marry off to perpetuate the house, no. And perhaps we will not stay in Delphi. We could go anywhere, after all, I've made quite the name for myself. Have you ever been to Athens, Lykaiskon? I understand they always need doctors and mercenaries.”

Lykaon raised his eyebrows a little. “No, I've never been to Athens.”

“Well, there you are, Sokrates. Perhaps we'll come to see you in Athens. And then, who knows. Aegyptos, maybe.” Alexios thoughtfully licked honey off his fingers. “I understand they have many wonders there.”

Sokrates frowned. “You really intend to exile yourself from Sparta.”

Alexios nodded. “Yes. If you weren’t friends of mine I’d have buried you on the mountainside already to stop you reporting back to Kass, I’m that serious.”

The philosopher gestured out the door. “You won't at least send word to tell them you aren't dead and buried on a mountainside yourself? Kassandra and Myrrine worry over you. When they said you'd disappeared, we were worried. You're lucky it was Hippokrates who came with me and not Alkibiades.”

Alexios laughed, short and sharp. “I can't imagine convincing Alkibiades to leave the city and come to a place as small as the Chora. Maybe I’ll send a message to him at least. I didn't imagine that my family would write to Athens of all places trying to search for me.”

Hippokrates laid a hand on Sokrates's shoulder as the shorter man opened his mouth to speak again. “We understand, Alexios. I thought we would rest here another day or two, perhaps, and then be on our way back to Athens. Lykaon, there were some patients outside for you earlier. I took the liberty of seeing them, thinking that you did not wish to be disturbed.”

Lykaon inclined his head to the older physician. “You have my gratitude, sir. Perhaps we can go together to the army camp, and see to the patients there. I left my apprentices to watch over them, of course, but I'll need to reevaluate.”

“I thought perhaps I might go and take Sokrates,” said Hippokrates, “if you'll write us a letter of introduction. I hesitate to leave these two alone lest we come back to find the walls painted with blood.”

Sokrates glared. Alexios crossed his arms on his chest. “I'm right here, you know.”

Lykaon rested a hand on Alexios's thigh under the table, giving a warning squeeze. “Believe me, we know. Hippokrates, I would be deeply grateful. Let me fetch my pen and some papyrus.”

Alexios stood as Lykaon did, following close behind to the next room and slipping his arms around Lykaon's waist to kiss the back of his neck as he gathered a pen and papyrus from the table he used for a desk. He leaned gently back into Alexios's chest, feeling tension in the muscles there. “Just a few moments more,” he murmured, “And then we'll be on our way. Either to a sunny grove on the slopes, or just back up to bed.”

Kissing his neck one last time, Alexios released him and followed him back to the front room. Lykaon seated himself and neatly wrote a brief letter, which he slid over to Hippokrates. “You sincerely have my gratitude, sir.”

The other physician smiled wryly, his eyes flicking over Lykaon's shoulder to where Alexios stood with arms crossed again, brooding and surly. “Between Sokrates and myself, one of us must have some tact and empathy. Come, Sokrates, I'll teach you to roll bandages.” Gripping the slightly rotund philosopher by the arm, Hippokrates took the letter and led him from the house.

Lykaon blew out a breath. Behind him, Alexios said, “I'm not going back.”

The doctor stood and turned to him, clasping his upper arms. “I don't know who you're arguing with, my heart. I am the least likely man in Phokis to attempt to send you back to Sparta.”

Alexios smiled a little at that, though his eyes were still dark and his body still tense. “Good. I won’t leave you again, Lykaiskon. The gods know I’ve done it enough hunting the Cult and family secrets. All that came from it was death.”

Lykaon squeezed Alexios's arms gently. “I know, my dear. I know. But it's over now, and the only thing we have to decide at the moment is whether you're feeling up to a short walk up the mountainside, or whether you'd rather go back to bed.”

Finally Alexios uncrossed his arms, reaching out to gather Lykaon close and nuzzle at his neck. “The bed is closer. We could start there.”

Lykaon tilted his head to the side, shivering at the prickle of his lover's stubble against his skin, a sharp contrast to the warmth and softness of the lips caressing his skin. “I won't argue,” he murmured. “But if you break that hole in your side open, we're stopping.”

Alexios bit softly at his exposed shoulder, pressing closer as if trying to melt into him, and smiled to hear Lykaon's soft gasp. “Of course. I wouldn't dream of disobeying my doctor.”

He found the open side of Alexios's chiton and slid a hand in, caressing his flank first with the palm of his hand and then dragging his nails over the skin softly. “Don't tell lies, Alexios, it's wicked.”

They were lying, sated and half-dozing all tangled up with one another, in a beam of late afternoon sunlight coming in the open window when they heard Sokrates's voice coming up the road. Alexios flopped an arm over his eyes. “Gods preserve us, they're back. And Sokrates has probably thought of six philosophical dilemmas with which to torment me.”

Lykaon propped his head on one hand, admiring the way the raised arm defined muscles in his beloved's chest and bicep. “I don't know why he vexes you so.”

Alexios shifted his arm enough to peer out from under it. “I'm not a man of words, Lykaiskon. And I can't fix everything with my fists. Even though Sokrates probably has it coming.”

“He does seem to delight in driving people to distraction.” Lykaon trailed his fingertips along the soft skin on the inside of Alexios's upper arm and down onto his chest, watching him shiver and his eyes light with the combination of desire and joy that always marked their time together. Alexios stretched, languid and enjoying the gentle touch. They could hear Hippokrates now, indistinct, replying to Sokrates.

“You're going to drive me to distraction. If you want to greet your distinguished guests, we should get out of bed now. Otherwise I might not let you up until morning.”

Lykaon leaned down and kissed him. “Amazing. You're being the practical one. What's next, Athens and Sparta signing a peace treaty?”

Alexios laughed as they heard footsteps come into the house. “I'd have to find honest work, then.”

They dressed, Alexios as usual rolling his eyes at the suggestion he borrow a himation but fastening his chiton at both shoulders. With each step down the stairs, Lykaon could see tension returning to his back and shoulders and knew that his face was closing down and the warm light was fading from his eyes. By the time they reached the bottom and Lykaon was greeting the Athenians, Alexios was guarded once again.

“Anaxilas sends his greetings and a bonus for you, Lykaon. Evidently he wasn't expecting so many of his wounded to live. He said to tell you they'll withdraw to the fort in the morning, and that he'd like to discuss permanent employment with you,” Hippokrates said, setting a small heavy pouch on the table.

Lykaon smiled with pleasure. “I'm glad things went well. I'll have to go up to the fort later this week to meet with him.”

The older physician nodded. “A patron in Sparta's army is worth having if they plan to stay. At least until they start losing battles. Although in your case I worry less about you being protected from the wrath of opposing armies.” He smiled over Lykaon's shoulder at Alexios, who leaned against the wall, arms folded on his chest.

Sokrates laughed at that. “Indeed, the Athenian army might worry about threatening you.”

Lykaon shrugged philosophically. “It's to be considered later. The future is still somewhat undecided, after all, since I might be dragged off to visit Athens at any given moment.”

“Sokrates and I thought we might set out to return ourselves, in the morning,” Hippokrates replied, drumming his fingers on the table. “Alexios, surely you will at least send word to your family that you aren't dead, even if you don't tell them where you are.”

Alexios barked harsh laughter. “I'll let you do it. Send a letter to Nikolaos and tell him his son is playing the woman for a farmer in Makedonia. Stentor wants to inherit, let him do so. I will neither return nor give them the opportunity to send more messengers.”

The other three men all winced. An awkward silence hung for a moment in the air, finally broken by Sokrates.

“Are you certain? Your family--”

“Isn’t your business. This isn't one of your pretty games and it isn't something you can talk me out of. I am done with Lakedaimon, with Sparta, with the ephors and Mount Taygetos, and I am done with House Agiad and Nikolaos who’s a slave to them all.”

Lykaon turned to study Alexios's face for a moment, then went to him, not caring that the other two men were watching, and carefully cradled his face. “I won't let anyone take you back there. You know that.”

A touch of tension eased out of Alexios's shoulders and his eyes softened as he met Lykaon's gaze. “I know. But I won't have them dragging you into their stupid, brutal games, either.”

Hippokrates coughed behind them. “Well, then. That's settled. You said you would also send word to Alkibiades?”

The mercenary's laugh was more genuine that time. “I was joking. But I should, before he holds a funeral feast for me unrivaled in its ability to shock and appall. You can tell him I’m still alive, and I hope he’s successful with Sokrates since I’m not available.”

Lykaon blushed, turning to sit at the table and pour himself a cup of wine. Sokrates's eyebrows climbed toward his hairline.

Hippokrates chuckled. “Indeed. Then let us all dine tonight as friends, and Sokrates and I will catch you up on all the latest Athenian gossip. Not all of it features Alkibiades.”

Pushing off the wall, Alexios came to sit next to Lykaon. “He would be disappointed to hear it. But who rules in Athens with Kleon and Aspasia dead?”

Pouring wine for Hippokrates, Alexios, and himself, Sokrates shook his head. “Now that does feature Alkibiades. Nikias attempts to bring back the rule of the nobility, blaming our failure to progress against Sparta on Kleon's excess of democracy. The recent losses here and in Boiotia will only strengthen his cause, I'm afraid. Alkibiades opposes him, giving speeches on the Pnyx.”

Alexios shrugged one-shouldered to avoid pulling at the wound on his side. The bruise on the side of his face made him look particularly warlike and recalcitrant. “Athenians should pay more, then maybe Spartan generals in the field would start having fatal accidents.”

The pug-nosed philosopher glared. “Do you even care which side wins?”

There was no one but the mercenary in Alexios's impassive face as he took a drink of wine and met Sokrates's glare with a level stare. “No. They both kill children. I won't weep if Sparta falls, and Athens would make a good funeral pyre for Phoibe.”

Lykaon and Hippokrates met each other's eyes, then Lykaon rested a hand on Alexios's knee, finding the muscles under his palm taut with restrained tension. Hippokrates's sudden movement and Sokrates's yelp suggested the older physician had kicked the philosopher in the ankle.

The younger doctor addressed the older in the conversational opening they'd created. “And how does the city recover from the plague?”

Hippokrates sighed. “Well enough. I worry that sickness will strike again, but conditions are less crowded now through that unfortunate method. Perhaps one quarter of the city was taken, in the end.”

“What tragedy,” Lykaon shook his head. “We were lucky to be spared it elsewhere.” He gave Alexios's knee a squeeze and stood to move about the room, gathering bread, cheese, and olives and setting them on the table. “I saw no cases corresponding with the sickness reported from Athens, and my colleagues in the Peloponnese report the same.” He refilled the pitcher on the table with water and wine and sat again.

“Indeed,” said Sokrates, eyeing Alexios warily as he helped himself to food and drink. “It seems the disease struck only Athens and her allies.”

“I have a theory,” Hippokrates began. Lykaon perked up with interest even as Sokrates rolled his eyes. Alexios, serving himself to bread and cheese, gradually let himself relax into the dinner, listening to the two doctors discuss what had to him been only nameless horror and burning bodies compounded by murder.

In bed, later, with a breeze coming in the windows and Alexios idly caressing his chest, Lykaon asked softly, “Did you really mean it about going to Athens, or was that only to torment Sokrates?”

His lover kissed the point of his shoulder and said against his skin, “My heart, if there is anywhere you wish to go, I will move the earth to take you there. Say the word. Athens? Argos? Mytikas where the gods live? For you I might even go back to Sparta, if for some reason you wanted to see it.”

Lykaon laughed and patted the hand on his chest. “I think I'm less likely to climb mountains than you are, darling man, and I’d never make you go back to Sparta. But I've always wanted to see Athens.”

Moving up to the juncture of his neck and shoulder, Alexios paused to bite softly, drawing a shiver from him. “Then we'll go. I'll take you to symposia, you can study with Hippokrates if you like. Alkibiades will try to steal you away from me.”

He traced his fingertips over the muscles in Alexios's forearm, moving his head a little to the side. “Try to steal me? I thought you two were...”

“Lovers, yes, once. But you are prettier than I am, no scars to ruin your hide. And you'll be a novelty. It will crush him to be rejected.”

Lykaon rubbed his fingers over a scar on Alexios's upper arm, shivering as the other man's hand wandered down his side. “It's hard to imagine you at Athens symposia.”

Alexios laughed against his throat. “I was very good at the drinking part. And the fornication part Alkibiades ran in the back rooms. Not so much the philosophy part that Sokrates and the others were engaged in, out in the respectable areas.”

Lykaon smiled, “And yet you'd attend them with me?”

“I would. And leave Alkibiades to entertain himself. You're stuck with me, physician. All we need to do is decide when we leave for Athens. I don't want to travel with Sokrates, I'll kill him. But otherwise there’s nothing but you keeping me here.”

“Oh. I still need to meet with Anaxilas, perhaps get started there. And I'll need to be sure my apprentices can handle my patients here in the Chora.”

“No. I don't want you working for the Spartan army.” Alexios's arms tightened around him. “You don't know what they're like. And what happens when Athens does start offering me more money and you're working in a fort I'm breaking into so I can murder your employer?”

Lykaon sighed, wiggling a little to get comfortable in the tighter grip. “It's a very good opportunity, you know. To have a patron, and to gain more experience with war injuries.”

“A Spartan patron, who will treat you like they treat everyone who isn't a Spartiate. You can learn about war injuries on me. Or work with Hippokrates in Athens.”

“Stubborn. And I prefer you uninjured.”

“I know the Spartan army better than you do. I don't want you involved with them.”

Yawning hugely, Lykaon said, “Can we argue about this in the morning, Alexiskos?”

Alexios sighed and dropped his head to kiss his shoulder. “I suppose. I don't mean to be a tyrant, my heart. If you truly want to work for them, of course you should.”

“Mmm. But you'll be lurking nearby every moment.”

“Unless you send me away.”

“As if I would. I prefer to know where you are, and if I sent you away you'd only be sneaking around.”

Alexios's voice was studiously innocent in the dark. “Someone has to watch your back.”

The morning was cool and quiet, with a hint of fall in the air. After the Athenians left and Lykaon saw to the patients waiting outside, he and Alexios relaxed in the sun, Alexios's head in his lap and eyes closed as Lykaon toyed with the small braids in the mercenary's hair.

“Do you know, I think your face is less fearsomely bruised already?”

“Thank the gods, I'd hate to think my good looks would be ruined.”

Lykaon brushed a hand over the other man's hair. “Alexiskos?”

“Hmm?”

“What happened between you and Alkibiades?”

Alexios opened his eyes to study Lykaon a moment, eyes searching his face. He seemed to be satisfied with whatever he saw there, because he closed his eyes again and sighed. “We were lovers. I did some favors for him. He told me I was... ‘useful’ was the word he used. I left Athens, and haven't stayed there long or seen him since.”

Lykaon brushed the backs of his fingers against Alexios's cheek. “Oh, my love, I am so sorry.”

Alexios raised and dropped one shoulder in a minimal shrug. “That was when I decided that however you felt about a mercenary wandering in and out of your life, for me there was no one else.”

Resting one hand on Alexios’s chest, Lykaon traced the bones in his face lightly with the fingertips of his other hand. “I'm not glad for how he used you. But I'm not sorry to have you, either. I've never met anyone like you.”

Alexios smiled softly. “The Chora of Delphi is a small place, my heart.”

Lykaon poked his chest gently. “But the whole Greek world comes to the Sanctuary. I've met people from all over. When we were small Agave and I would run around all day, waiting for grandmother to finish prophesying.”

“Funny, isn't it? When I was small I ran around Kephallonia, stealing for Markos. It's only been these past months that I've traveled, and not been able to stop. The Adrestia has been my home, and it was always moving under me.”

“I've never been out to sea,” Lykaon replied a little wistfully.

Alexios grinned up at him. “Well, I sent word to Barnabas, my captain, when I couldn't find you. In another few days he'll be at the dock at Thermopylae, and we can sail down to the port of Piraeus instead of walking to Athens.”

A delighted smile broke across Lykaon's face. “Is there any wish of mine you can't make come true?”

“Try me and see.”