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When he hunted, Deimos’ favoured part was to see how close he could get to his prey before they noticed and he had to either pounce or lose it. As he was stalking Stentor through the streets of Sparta, he felt a similar excitement enflaming his blood.
Stentor had no idea that Deimos was following him. His demeanour was relaxed, he held no tension, no suspicion that someone would wish him harm within the walls of his home. And he was right because it was not harm that Deimos wished to do.
He had stumbled upon the custom by accident. Nikolaos and Myrrine had talked about a recent kidnapping and when Kassandra had gotten concerned, they had explained what a kidnapping meant in Sparta. Deimos’ thoughts had turned to Stentor immediately. If he took him, he’d show that he was the strongest of them all. When he had been with the Cult, the idea of marriage had been as foreign as the idea of a family, but keeping Stentor all to himself? Proving that he was the only man fit to bed him? The thought appealed.
Apparently most kidnappings in Sparta were pre-arranged, either between the families or just the couple themselves but what was the point of that? Besides, Stentor might not see sharing Deimos’ bed as a good enough reason for them to marry, but if he took him by force, no one could dispute his claim – especially not Stentor.
Deimos had everything prepared. He knew that Stentor was making sacrifices to Artemis Orthia and had a horse waiting nearby and would take Stentor to a hunting hut where they’d spent the three wedding days before returning to Sparta.
And if any man dared to question his claim on Stentor he’d bring him their hearts that he would personally rip from their chests!
Slowly, keeping to the shadows, Deimos crept closer. His step was light, almost soundless and his breaths measured and flat. Even if Stentor turned around, he’s struggle to see him in the dark, the torch he was carrying blinding him.
This close Deimos could see the sweat on Stentor’s skin – it was the height of summer and he was wearing only a loincloth - running down the strong line of his back. His braid was resting over his shoulder and there were flecks of blood leftover from the sacrifice.
He attacked like lightening. With one hand, he twisted the torch from Stentor’s grip. It fell to the ground and Deimos kicked it away. His other hand clamped over Stentor’s mouth and nose. No matter what, he couldn’t let go.
Stentor caught him with a powerful jab in the ribs but Deimos was used to worse pain. He kicked the back of Stentor’s knee, forcing him to the ground. Stentor was strong but not even he could fight long without air. His fingernails left bloody scratches on the back of Deimos’ hand but nothing he did dislodged Deimos’ hold.
Eventually he succumbed but Deimos knew that unconsciousness could be faked and held on for a few heartbeats longer. Quickly, because he did not know how long it would last, Deimos tied his hands and feet before hefting Stentor over his shoulder.
The gods seemed to favour his endeavour because Stentor did not wake up the entire time it took Deimos to get them to the hunting hut. Inside, he put Stentor down on the pellet and locked the door before untying him. Some other man might have seen him taking Stentor and thought to follow him.
Deimos had seen how other men looked at Stentor and while he couldn’t fault them for seeing what he saw, he could defend what was his.
“Deimos?” Stentor was the only one in their family calling him that. “What’s going on?”
“I took you”, Deimos declared triumphantly, smiling down at Stentor.
“I noticed that. Why?” If he had been anyone else, Stentor would’ve already attacked. Deimos felt his chest swell with pride.
“I took you”, he repeated. Stentor was a Spartiate, surely he knew their marriage rituals.
“Is this a bridal kidnapping?” Stentor asked, frowning slightly.
“Yes, I took you and now you are mine.”
“You mean to tell me that father gave you permission for this?”
“No, of course not.” Now it was Deimos’ turn to frown. “What is the point of a kidnapping if everyone already knows about it? How are you meant to prove your strength?”
Stentor looked him up and down as if he was seeing Deimos for the first time. He wasn’t of course, they had shared a bed many, many times over the past year, but it was a nice look.
“And what is this?” Stentor asked, gesturing around the hut.
“No one will find us here, and no one will disturb us for the next three days”, Deimos replied. He and Stentor had never gotten that much time to themselves and he had some ideas of how to make use of it.
“Three days?” Stentor asked. “Are you insane? I have to train with my men.”
“It’s your wedding, your men can do without you.” Deimos crossed his arms over his chest. Why was Stentor being so difficult?
“Who told you that weddings last three days?”
“Kassandra.”
“Oh, so she’s in on this?” Stentor grimaced.
“No! She mentioned it when she was talking about her friends’ wedding that lasted three days.”
Stentor covered his eyes with his hand. “Her friend is an Athenian. Spartan weddings do not last three days.”
“And how long do they last?” Deimos asked in a huff. How had he been supposed to know that?
“The kidnapping is the wedding.”
That was a disappointing turn of events but at least they had the entire night. When he said as much to Stentor, the reply he got was, “What if I don’t want to marry you?”
“Then you should’ve fought me off.” The idea hadn’t occurred to him. Stentor was in his bed every other night. What more was there to marriage, except that now he could tell other men to fuck off when they tried to seduce Stentor away from him.
“True.” Stentor gave him that look again that made Deimos’ knees feel a little weak. “Are you going to guard that door the entire night?”
“I was waiting for you to wake up”, Deimos protested, throwing his chiton over his head.
“I am awake and you’re still over there. Did no one tell you what duties a husband has?”
“Enlighten me”, Deimos growled as he joined Stentor on the pellet.