Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“My dear sweet Lexie,

First, let me extend my deepest gratitude for your lovely gift. Though Iris has yet to come around, I am sure your glowing recommendation of involving goats in the bedroom will be noted and acknowledged. I see placing my trust in you continues to be a worthwhile investment but do not worry little goat. I can also ensure your trusting me in the past to bear good fruit, and what delicious fruit it bore, with nary a worm nor rotten core.

 And in case it has escaped you, mighty misthios, I am talking about the Cult of Kosmos and how effective you and your friends have been in eradicating them all but the two most elusive of beasts.

The remaining cultists prove to be more equipped in evading my eyes. Anthousa’s, surprisingly more so. I am pressed to even admit it has irked me, like that time you have accused me of imbibing too much. And cheap wine, of all horrid things that I will enthusiastically and voluntarily swallow! Yes, little goat, the grudge of an Athenian can last perhaps even a lifetime yet mine is the least of what should concern you.

But now I must end my letter here since your gift has started nibbling on the olisbos. Do come visit soon if you are up for it again, my sweet. At least, when I fail in convincing Iris - but we both know it is unlikely.”

Alexios turned over the document to find a note attached with a name, and he stood before crossing the one as it etched on the larger parchment stuck to the wall. “Filled with suggestive comments and condescension, this is Allie alright.” At least it meant their correspondence still wasn’t compromised.

Barnabas took a sip of his drink, shaking his head. “Cheap wine is good, no matter what that Athenian says.”

“Barnabas,” the young man said with a small chuckle, “you’re Athenian. I think.”

“Only by blood, Eagle-bearer, only by blood. But alas, a sailor in spirit and heart I am and will always be.” His friend downed the rest of his drink. “And we drink what we can afford on every port!”

Alexios shook his head, amused before his expression shifted into a severe one. And how could he be anything but, when staring at the many names that had hurt his family?

More damningly, who had hurt his little sister?

Brown orbs scanned every letter, tracing it with a bow-kissed finger and closing his eyes as he summoned his memory of every encounter.

He tried not to revisit the feelings left each time his arrow met its mark. But he did focus on the current one, overtaking the hope that briefly twinged in his heart.

The hope was that this nightmare would finally be over, and his family would be free of them.

A bony hand clapped his shoulder and he turned to his friend. “You’ve chased these cultists into Hades’ arms like a true predator to be feared.”

Alexios frowned, hands closing into fists. “And is it alright that I’m nearly consumed with vengeance because of this quest?”

“A little vengeance can help remind us that we’re mortal, fallible. Focusing on things aside from that though,” he nodded his head to the window of Alexios’ room, and he spotted the Adrestia and his crew, “makes the toll of it tolerable.”

Odessa conversing with Iola immediately cooled his rising ire, a fact that surprised and overwhelmed him. Just the sight of the woman he had known long as Barnabas warmed his heart.

He felt his chest easing with stiffness and heaviness, coaxing a series of inhales and exhales out of the Spartan. “Y-Your wisdom can come in handy from time to time. Almost made more sense than anything out of Sokrates’ mouth.”

A hearty laugh escaped the seafarer. “Just spent my time experiencing much of the gods’ given life than thinking how to live it. Sides, you said it yourself, Commander.” He jutted a thumb at the wall of cultists. “It’s almost over and my purpose might be nearing a new course soon.”

Purpose, Alexios echoed in his mind while Barnabas sat down to check for new letters. Once I finally find Chrysis and this ‘Ghost of Kosmos’, then what? Would I live out my days as a mercenary? An adventurer? Or… His gaze unwittingly returned down at the docks, to Odessa ordering three crew members where to unload the cargo they had finished recovering. …settling down here with her?

Gelon was already speaking to the client who had hired them, causing Alexios to check the letter on his desk before throwing it on the done pile. Barnabas saw the movement and grinned. “Another round of drachmae. Perhaps I could order more than cheap wine today!” At that he stood, his tone telling the misthios to relax as well but Alexios merely shook his head.

“I must finish organizing these. You go on ahead.”

Barnabas, bless him, said nothing more saved for a nod. He did, however, bring a document over. “Well, if you are staying perhaps you can look into this. Seems promising. An island trapped under the rule of an evil king, almost like the beginnings of an epic tale!”

He then left, bringing with him his boisterous cheer and leaving Alexios in silence. Physical silence anyway. The noisy thoughts now plagued his mind, unrelenting.

The Eagle-bearer sighed, standing, and ignoring the letter for the moment to return to the wall of cultist names. All marked and meticulously crossed out saved for two.

Chrysis, he read first, and, again, his blood boiled once he summoned the memories of their last encounter. Though he did not regret saving the helpless babe, there were times – like now – he scorned his conscience for that decision. The priestess appeared to remain hidden with Alexios losing more leads like Markos’ drachmae in his many failed get-rich-fast schemes of his.

Markos. More memories of the past, but he hadn’t heard from him in a while and Alexios could admit, his weakness was family. Even smarmy swindlers, somewhat finding themselves in that category. But what will I tell him? That I have uncovered a secret organization and have almost hunted them to extinction? That I reunited with my blood family yet learned some unsavory secrets? Should I even tell him that Deimos is my sister?

Alexios expected him to start planning a scheme to involve the Adrestia, perhaps to sell his horrible wine. Worst, maybe he’d find a way to involve Naxos if he learned his mater was the leader. Still, a nostalgic smile tugged at his lips, and made a mental note to pen a letter to Kos as he read the final name on the wall. The other unmarked one was a recent addition thanks to Allie’s sources.

‘The Ghost of Kosmos’ it read, and Alexios pursed his lips. This one, he was no closer to unveiling. His sister, though he swore to involve her less than possible, could only recall their voices.

“They had never shown their faces,” she had shared one night when he found her staring out into the ocean. Though Alexios had sworn off cliffs, he mustered his courage to sit beside the edge with his sister. “Their voices, from what few I can remember, might not help you anyway.”

“Anything you remember will be helpful,” he had replied, and he meant it. Although he did not elaborate, he also meant that it could be helpful for sharing what haunted his sister.

After what he learned and heard, he sometimes wished he hadn’t asked.

Just as he was deciding to join Barnabas for a well-needed break, a scream from the room opposite to his urged him to move. Unslinging his bow in one swift movement, he kicked open the door and prepared to shoot.

Instinct nearly forced him to let loose the arrow on the Spartan towering over the cowering servant. Control was what stopped him from hitting his sister.

“Kassandra!”

But not enough control to temper his voice into a normal volume. Already his heart twinged with regret at the wince from his little sister, yet he stood firm and nodded to the servant who took the offer of escape.

He surged forward, blocking his young sibling from chasing after the maid. “What is going on?”

“She stole my armor!”

“The servant who washes our clothes,” he began with a steady voice, raising both his hands up, “has to take them to be cleaned.” Even though I wished I wouldn’t see that armor again.

Apparently, that wasn’t the right thing to say as Deimos – Kassandra, he reminded himself – growled. “I know what they do,” thank Odessa for those anger management tips, even if they weren’t completely effective in softening his sister’s eyes that seethed with a fury of a thousand suns, “but it has not been returned to me, for two. fucking. days.”

“Language,” was out of his mouth before his mind could process it, and really, thank Odessa for those tips. Kassandra looked about ready to gut him here and now but held herself back. “Sorry, a force of habit with Ph- “he shook his head, forcing down the despair, and continued, “just, let me ask around. Maybe they just misplaced it.” Or took their time to summon their courage to approach the angry spartan woman. “But I’m sure they’ll find it and return it to you.”

The said angry spartan woman though, scoffed. “I’d doubt these weaklings would be capable of that.”

He shot her a look while he approached the armor stand to check for clues. He heard a huff when he glanced to the floor, finding no traces of foul doing nor anything that wasn’t his sister’s smelly boots and the disorganized pile of vambraces.

“You know I’m right.” He shook his head, disagreeing, but he knew his sister was scowling even if he couldn’t see it as she continued, “Needed to be led by Mater and even then, they struggled against Silanos’ Paros.”

“And yet, out of their generous hearts, they let us stay here.” Alexios stood and dusted his hands. Nothing out of the ordinary, he mused, but still made a mental note to ask around. “Even treat us a little bit like royalty. Truly unnecessary.”

Kassandra grunted as she hopped on the bed, the mattress squeaking in protest while Alexios’ own died on his lips. He sighed, though he supposed no other clue could be found in his sister’s mess of a bed anyway.

Searching brown orbs briefly glared at similar brown eyes that rolled in petulance, before they scanned the rest of the room. Nothing was amiss. Alexios’ gaze however narrowed at the uneaten bowl of food. She didn’t eat again.

He nearly missed the rest of the other’s response to his previous statement as he picked the forgotten meal up. “…and we’re gods, we deserve the worship.”

The misthios sighed while bringing the food to his stubborn sister. “What have we discussed about that kind of thinking, little sister?” His tone however brooked no argument to the protests that were no doubt about to emerge. Every time I thought the cult couldn’t do any worse, I get surprised. ‘Gods do not eat', my ass.

He tried culling his rising temper of the cultists’ cruelty – the latest piece of information being that they would even starve his sister. And all under the guise that it was a feature of her godhood.

Alexios watched her finish the meal with an intensity that rivaled even Ikaros. The clay material nearly cracked in his grip when it was returned but at least it was emptied as he set it on the table.

“We discussed, brother,” Deimos – Kassandra, he scolded his head – resumed her thought, “but it did not mean I agreed.”

“Kassandra…” Malaka, it was like talking with Ph- no. Do not go there, Alexios. But he did put his arms on his hips, unconscious though another misstep when the Eagle-bearer saw the twitching of an eyebrow. He shook his head, waving his hand in the air as he did an about-face. “Fine, be that way. What I will not tolerate however is your treatment of the people here. More so because it will reflect badly on our Mater.”

Another squeak of the mattress and he knew his sister flopped down on the bed now. “Far be it from me to disappoint Naxos’ leader, but I guess we are both unable to represent our parents’ ideals.”

Now that was uncalled for. “I’m going to –

“And yet,” she supplied all too cheerily - despite the threat of violence - standing and heading to the exit, “you won’t. You couldn’t in the past. Now, here I live, and here we hide from our failures to live up to expectations.” She patted him on the back and the agile Malaka simply ducked in time from his fist.

Her giggles faded as the doors swung shut while the elder pinched the bridge of his nose. She’s goading you. Revenge for getting her to eat. “I’m not hiding,” he just had to voice.

No one in the empty room was convinced of this lie.

With another shake of his head, he left the room and settled that telling the good news – one now forgotten thanks to his annoying sister – could wait to be shared tonight at dinner.

And thus, hiding from Pater and Stentor would no longer be an option.

Malaka.

Chapter Text

“It was a disaster!”

Kassandra winced at the voice of her brother and the despair that colored his tone. She lay atop the roof, staring at the stars while the two men continued their conversation, albeit unknowing of the eavesdropper above them.

Her arms folded unconsciously, before the instincts instilled in her forced her to drop them as if they burned. Though they might as well be, came the wry thought. Sometimes Kassandra hated being…Kassandra.

Deimos, when she had felt like Deimos, was untouchable. Powerful. Did not easily succumb to guilt and other weak emotions.

But Kassandra? Oh, how she hated her.

Kassandra would wince at the disappointment in big brother’s voice. Kassandra would try to please the idiots who could only see her as nothing but a danger to all. Kassandra would even hesitate to hunt down the thief that obviously stole her armor.

Yet Deimos doesn’t have a family. A tiny voice countered, causing the young woman to scowl. Who was she then, really? Kassandra? Deimos? No one?

The last one brought something into the surface, something that both Kassandra and Deimos had understood and were intimately familiar with.

Fear.

But whereas Deimos transformed it easily into anger, Kassandra had the urge to hide and disappear. Kassandra was doing a lot of that lately, since she and her brother made their home in Naxos. Since they decided Sparta held too many open wounds. Too many scars. Too much, even for proud Spartans and gods.

Shaking her head, she chanced a peek and sure enough Alexios was still ranting to Barnabas about dinner’s events. She saw the old man nodding while cradling his drink.

The tavern balcony was secluded enough that the normally calm-headed misthios allowed himself to spit out curse words that he seemed to have compiled over the years.

And he had the gall to scold me for ‘language’. Kassandra rolled her eyes but nonetheless, listened to the conversation.

“I shouldn’t have attended, Barnabas, it was a disaster!”

The elder man, however, patted his back sympathetically though a tinge of confusion apparently colored his voice when he asked, “You keep repeating that word, Alexios but you did not exactly share what happened.”

She could make out the blurry eyes that blinked and mirrored her own. Ones that blinked again as if to process the question before Alexios, slumped against the balustrade, focused on Barnabas. “What happened? Oh, I will tell you what happened…”

Kassandra bit her lip. Then coming to a decision, she shook her head and stood. With all the grace of a feline, Kassandra made a soundless leap. She landed upon the other roof and kept bounding each one until she had sufficiently distanced herself from whatever Alexios would whine about.

Malaka. Kassandra huffed, reaching the warehouse of statues after what seems like hours. She crouched, leaning her weight against the railing of the upper floor and watching the sculptors at work. The wood creaked and groaned under powerful calloused palms as Kassandra fought to quell her temper.

The sound of metal points meeting and chipping away pliable marble was usually enough to calm the raging storm within her. So far, the tempest persisted. And her pursuer.

“I thought I might find you here,” the newcomer’s voice finally spoke, sitting next to Kassandra who huffed once more.

“Did brother dearest send his mate to clean up after his sister?” Kassandra drawled.

Odessa rolled her eyes. “I was around, Kassandra. Besides, you did not exactly make your entrance quiet.” She pointed at the crushed wooden railings.

Kassandra huffed, hating how she lost control more than being followed. “Am I not free to go where I wish?”

“No,” and anyone else answering that bluntly would have been punched in the face but all it made Kassandra do was huff again. She begrudged it but it was better to have this honest mortal than the quivering fools lying to her face who could keep her company. Odessa never hid her emotions. The hate and the fear and the pity were prevalent the first few months they’d known each other.

The rest of Naxos couldn’t attempt a convincing act of the latter than the former if their lives depended on it. Maybe that was why Odessa grew on her.

Kassandra grumbled, crossing her arms. “Whatever my brother whined about, it’s not my fault.”

“And I believe you, surprisingly.” Kassandra’s old mentors would have flogged her for the blatant expression of surprise coloring her face then, but the words proved to be shocking enough.

“The fuck?”

“What?”

“You are not supposed to easily believe me.”

Odessa made a show of smiling with a raised brow at Kassandra, before shrugging. “You’d rather I don’t?”

“I’d rather you end this friendly nonsense.” The former god’s frown was apparent this time, on the cusp of a sneer. “How – why are you being so –

“Kind? Understanding? Benevolent?”

“Unafraid.” Kassandra struck first, taking the shorter woman by the shoulders and lifting her up.

Over the railing.

The gasps from this action signaled their audience but both Kassandra and Odessa remained locked in their staring contest. “I got to know you,” Odessa answered, calmly. She even gestured to the guards stationed here to not do anything. “It’s not every day one’s lover’s sister is a god.”

“And I am not a merciful one,” Kassandra snarled, while glaring at the sculptors and Athenians in their midst. “So, what will you do now? I can just drop you. It is a long way down.”

“I can manage.”

“I can crush you too, if you prefer. Your neck is a vulnerable target.” A hand seized Odessa’s throat.

“I can manage.”

“No, you will not,” Kassandra spat, “you are a mortal. A weakling. An ant meant to be crushed under my boot, insignificant and helpless to where I dare trod.”

“And you are a god, or one who was told you’re one. Since the moment you understood what that word meant. Since the Cult of Cosmos –” Kassandra hated herself more when she flinched at the name “– tortured you and pushed you beyond your limits.”

Odessa frowned even when Kassandra finally placed her back on the ground, pulling her away from the edge. “You can try to rationalize why I don’t hate you Kassandra or try to make more reasons why you think you should hate me, but I don’t just pity you. I am concerned for you.”

“That’s the same thing.”

“No, it’s not. Because I want you to get better and I want to be there throughout the process,” she didn’t place a hand against Kassandra’s shoulders, but her stare and look was damning enough, making rocks unpleasantly sink in her stomach. Alexious chose well. “So, tell me what happened? If only you’re ready of course.”

“I…didn’t even know what happened to me,” she whispered, gaze finally finding her hands.

“…and last I heard; the general’s son drowned. He was on one of the three ships that had sunk due to some trap I saw coming. I did warn him. Mykonos’ wars ships are built to be one of the finest blockades in Greece.”

“It was an obvious ploy,” groused Pater. “He was the son of a general who fought with Leonidas. He didn’t live up to his legacy.”

Kassandra fought down a yawn as the two Spartans droned on once more about the war or whatever news they deigned to share tonight. Dinners with the whole family were few and far between due to Myrinne’s meetings, Stentor and Pater’s battles, and her and her brother’s bounties.

But this was the first time that everyone was complete in a while.

Alexious nudged her, and she was glad the long sleeves muffled the action. She wouldn’t hide her boredom, however. Yet at his look, maybe she could try.

Kassandra was given an assortment of clothes and it was a thrilling feeling to be able to simply choose. Back with – no, Kassandra will not spoil her time with her family. She adjusted in her seat, making sure not to catch the folds of her dress before pouring herself a goblet of wine. Better do something productive while forced to listen to them talk.

Come to think of it, Alexios hardly said anything throughout the night save for nodding along to whatever criticisms Pater threw at his fighting style. So what if he favored the bow over a more dangerous-looking weapon? Kassandra was trained to use all but even she had preferences on which weapon to slaughter her enemies with. Especially on ‘missions’ where the death never really mattered so long it was a spectacle. In fact, she could remember this one time how beautiful her daggers gleamed as it –

“Kassandra,” hissed her mother, startling the warrior and causing some of the liquid to spill on the tablecloth.

Kassandra nearly hissed as well but the curse word didn’t slip past her lips as fast as Alexios’ hands who began to wipe the mess down.

“Sorry.” She frowned when Stentor snickered, yet she focused on Mater, if only to resist punching that malaka’s face.

Mater shook her head, smiling sadly. “No. I am sorry. It is just appalling that…oh, I wished I had enough time to raise you.” Kassandra didn’t understand and she begrudgingly looked to her brother for guidance.

Alexios, however, faced his father and mother – their father and mother. Kassandra corrected her thoughts – and said, “Forgive her. It is just, I told her she can eat or drink whenever she feels she needs.”

“We don’t expect you to explain normal customs to her,” Pater’s words shouldn’t have made her feel small, but it did. ‘Normal’, that word specifically brought worm-like feelings inside her stomach.

Sadness. Alexios had tried to explain. Kassandra would forever curse the cult for such gaps in her education. A God had no time to discern feelings aside from righteous fury, the Ghost said. I should hate you for ruining me, Kassandra said.

Stentor snorting brought Kassandra out of her thoughts, just in time to hear his next words. “We cannot expect much from Alexios all in all. Especially since he continued to refrain from joining us in battle.”

Kassandra found herself glaring unconsciously. She turned and waited for her brother to give him a verbal demolishing.

He said nothing, merely taking a sip of his wine. Kassandra gawked at him. He told her he wanted to focus on finding the cultists, but he didn’t mention stopping from engaging in the war. Was it because of me? Kassandra pursed her lips.

“Then again, bows do not deal much damage in a true fight.”

“He could slaughter more than you ever will,” Kassandra growled, startling Stentor.

“Kassandra, enough.” Alexios, that damned Malaka, wouldn’t let her have any fun. “And I simply grow tired of war. I wanted to focus on more important things.”

“What could be important than glory for Sparta?” Stentor asked.

And silence filled the room, long enough for Mater to stare at Pater. “…I suppose you did raise him, after all.” She shook her head, but Kassandra noticed the brief hitch in her voice. Sadness, Kassandra guessed and was about to reach out to her shoulder and do that annoying thing her brother did with her, but Mater adjusted in her seat.

And accidentally moved away from Kassandra.

Before she could ask why, Myrrine shook her head and reached out to pat Kassandra’s hand. “Nevertheless,” Mater continued, “it has been so long since we have a family dinner.” She smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes, when facing the former Deimos. “Typically, Kassandra, the men eat first. We serve their meals then we eat ourselves.”

“We have servants for that?” Kassandra did not understand.

“It’s custom. To show our gratitude for those who have provided for us and kept us safe,” Alexios murmured. Myrrine nodded.

Kassandra looked taken aback and couldn’t keep her silence. “Then it should not be applicable to us.”

Pater looked away and Stentor frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“Kassandra,” Alexious hissed.

He shouldn’t be defending that man. “No, brother. You understand, right?” Kassandra barked out a laugh, even in the face of her mother’s expression slowly morphing into sadness. Yet her pater refused to look at her. “We cannot ignore what is the truth.” She was exhausted from hiding this, honestly, and wasn’t he the one telling her to speak her feelings? Honestly, after finally having this moment with Pater she too wanted to ask him questions, but he always seemed busy before she got the chance.

Now it was time.

And yet, Myrrine shook her head while Alexios grimaced. “Kassandra -

“For once, I agree with Deimos,” Stentor piped in.

Kassandra barely remembered to hold back her strength, but the utensil looked a little bent. Better that however than the Spartan babbling away.

“Kassandra,” she spoke through gritted teeth. She had enough of this idiot. She could recognize all the sniveling and pathetic attempts to make himself look favorable. Kleon used to do the same, but she knew what they both knew.

But if he believed Kassandra’s name remained to be Deimos, then jealousy’s name would be Stentor. 

“Oh?” that weak mortal continued, “But you just said we cannot ignore what is the truth.”

“Stentor!” Mater scolded this time. Pater remained looking away. Of all things tonight, that made Kassandra angrier.

“No. Let him speak, Mater.” Kassandra smiled, a cold upturn of her lips, yet her eyes narrowed at the Wolf of Sparta. “It is the only way the adopted child feels like he belongs, after all.”

“That is –

“Enough!” Pater’s voice turned heads like his finally meeting Kassandra’s eyes. Just like she knew he would, if only to defend what he viewed to be the only child that didn’t fail him. “I remain what I said to Alexios, and he agreed –

“He agreed shit,” Kassandra savored the words escaping her tongue more than her mater’s shock. What rivaled such decadence was her brother immediately following it up with –

“Language!” He found her eyes next. About time, too.

Kassandra crossed her arms, taking in her brother and father’s expressions and gestured languidly. “I –

“Psyhi was right, she had foreseen trouble tonight,” Stentor muttered under the brim of his goblet.

Then Kassandra suddenly stood, yet she didn’t do it on purpose. She knew she didn’t. Her mind ran through possible thoughts of why but panic reigned supreme the moment she grasped the knife without her control.

And she lunged.

“…I was weak.”

Kassandra let out a small laugh, ending her tale. She supposed she did snap out of it, whatever that was, but it was too late. Luckily Stentor survived, though he needed to remain in bed to recover from the slash close to his eye.

Kassandra thought about killing him, yes, but she didn’t mean to do that last night. It had felt wrong. So wrong. She was unable to control her body. The knife in her hand weighed lighter. Wrong. She had needed her daggers.

Needed to attack. Needed to hurt her enemies.

When she had hurt her brother, the need faded. Kassandra barely managed to look at his disappointed expression as Myrinne quickly restrained her while Nikolaos rushed to Stentor’s side.

But Alexios had urged her to her room, stopping Myrrine just in time who was going to call for the guards. Kassandra was wise enough to take the opportunity to leave.

(Something in her chest constricted.)

She didn’t flee. That was what she told herself, but it was as convincing as her explanations to Alexios once he calmed their parents – his parents – down.

(Something was squeezing her insides, threatening to burst open.)

Now, hours from that dinner, maybe Kassandra should stop trying to delude herself. Because she finally understood, she cannot be Kassandra. No one believed she could be anything but Deimos, after all, so why be something she wasn’t. Right?

Something soft touched her cheek. Just below her eye.

Deimos frowned, glaring at the mortal that dared touch a God.

The mortal’s hand remained even as Deimos grasped her wrist, continuing to wipe at something she could not see. Though it was something watery and it stung her eyes.

“No, Kassandra,” She heard the mortal – Odessa – whisper.

“You were hurt.”

Kassandra didn’t understand why the words caused her vision to suddenly go blurry.