Hermes (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
messageforyou) wrote2025-02-08 01:13 pm
messageforyou) wrote2025-02-08 01:13 pm
For refusetofight
Lykos feels like he's in a bad dream that won't let him wake up.
Lord Neoptolemus disappeared from the ship. No one would admit to seeing anything. Lykos knows that there were men on the trireme with cause to kill the king, but there's also the concern of Queen Medea and potential curses, or maybe Lord Neoptolemus taking his own life because he was so grieved by his father's betrayal. If everyone thought the king was dead, Lykos feared that they'd come back to Epirus and kill little Molossus and the queen to install one of themselves.
Lykos isn't brave. He's not cunning. He's nothing like the heroes of legend. But he thinks that perhaps Lord Hermes blessed him for a moment, because when they all realized that Lord Neoptolemus was no longer on the ship, he summoned a lie that saved them for now.
"His grandmother, the goddess Thetis, gathered him for a visit. He'll come back in due course," Lykos lied with all the confidence he never had. The threat of the goddess watching kept the men rowing the ship in line. It convinced them that the king would return, so they must behave lest he crush their skulls between his palms. Lykos searched the men's faces for anyone who disbelieved him, anyone who might secretly know what happened to the king, but he couldn't glean anything.
Lykos knows full well that the goddess doesn't keep touch with her grandson. He knows full well that his lord wasn't spirited away by a friendly divine force, ready to return him safely. But he keeps his mouth shut until they're home, and until he's able to speak directly with the new queen.
Lady Ophelia is a little unsettling, unsettling in the same way as Lord Neoptolemus. They both have an edge to them that seems not of the world, the lord with dark strength that he carries with every motion and the lady with a strange air that she could float away on the wind at any moment, like she's not quite attached to the earth the same way as everyone else. Lykos pins it on their divine heritage, and it made it all the sweeter to watch them fall in love, two lonely creatures who couldn't quite fit in with normal humans finding homes in each other.
But the lady seemed bitterly, horribly human when he broke it to her that her husband of not even a year was gone. She sagged in shock, bracing herself against the wall, but her knees failed her. She demanded Lykos tell her everything, and everything he told her indeed.
Aspasia wants to kill all the men who whispered of mutiny. Ophelia wants to wait, wants to see if he comes home. He's a strong swimmer, she reasons, and his grandmother is of the sea. Maybe the goddess intervened on his behalf, maybe he's being healed by the gods, maybe he'll come home whole and healthy soon. Don't tell Molossus yet, we don't know that he's dead, don't put the boy through that if we don't know for sure.
Lykos doesn't delude himself. His lord is dead. And his corpse is somewhere in the sea, without any rites to put his shade to rest.
He doesn't know if it'll do anything. But as Lord Neoptolemus' innermost circle goes round and round talking about what should be done, he steals away to his quarters, to the modest household gods he and Galene keep figures of over the hearth. He lights incense, and he prays to the only person he thinks would care enough to listen.
Lord Achilles, please. Please ask your lover to find Lord Neoptolemus' body and lay him to rest. Please don't let him languish and rot at the bottom of the sea.
There are tears on his cheeks he didn't notice as he prayed. He wipes them, but there are more. More and more and more.
He pulls a straw mat close to the hearth and curls up, watching the incense rise to the ceiling, and he wonders how he'll explain this to Galene.
And then he falls asleep, dreaming fitfully of the trireme, of Athens, of turning his back too long to his master.
Lord Neoptolemus disappeared from the ship. No one would admit to seeing anything. Lykos knows that there were men on the trireme with cause to kill the king, but there's also the concern of Queen Medea and potential curses, or maybe Lord Neoptolemus taking his own life because he was so grieved by his father's betrayal. If everyone thought the king was dead, Lykos feared that they'd come back to Epirus and kill little Molossus and the queen to install one of themselves.
Lykos isn't brave. He's not cunning. He's nothing like the heroes of legend. But he thinks that perhaps Lord Hermes blessed him for a moment, because when they all realized that Lord Neoptolemus was no longer on the ship, he summoned a lie that saved them for now.
"His grandmother, the goddess Thetis, gathered him for a visit. He'll come back in due course," Lykos lied with all the confidence he never had. The threat of the goddess watching kept the men rowing the ship in line. It convinced them that the king would return, so they must behave lest he crush their skulls between his palms. Lykos searched the men's faces for anyone who disbelieved him, anyone who might secretly know what happened to the king, but he couldn't glean anything.
Lykos knows full well that the goddess doesn't keep touch with her grandson. He knows full well that his lord wasn't spirited away by a friendly divine force, ready to return him safely. But he keeps his mouth shut until they're home, and until he's able to speak directly with the new queen.
Lady Ophelia is a little unsettling, unsettling in the same way as Lord Neoptolemus. They both have an edge to them that seems not of the world, the lord with dark strength that he carries with every motion and the lady with a strange air that she could float away on the wind at any moment, like she's not quite attached to the earth the same way as everyone else. Lykos pins it on their divine heritage, and it made it all the sweeter to watch them fall in love, two lonely creatures who couldn't quite fit in with normal humans finding homes in each other.
But the lady seemed bitterly, horribly human when he broke it to her that her husband of not even a year was gone. She sagged in shock, bracing herself against the wall, but her knees failed her. She demanded Lykos tell her everything, and everything he told her indeed.
Aspasia wants to kill all the men who whispered of mutiny. Ophelia wants to wait, wants to see if he comes home. He's a strong swimmer, she reasons, and his grandmother is of the sea. Maybe the goddess intervened on his behalf, maybe he's being healed by the gods, maybe he'll come home whole and healthy soon. Don't tell Molossus yet, we don't know that he's dead, don't put the boy through that if we don't know for sure.
Lykos doesn't delude himself. His lord is dead. And his corpse is somewhere in the sea, without any rites to put his shade to rest.
He doesn't know if it'll do anything. But as Lord Neoptolemus' innermost circle goes round and round talking about what should be done, he steals away to his quarters, to the modest household gods he and Galene keep figures of over the hearth. He lights incense, and he prays to the only person he thinks would care enough to listen.
Lord Achilles, please. Please ask your lover to find Lord Neoptolemus' body and lay him to rest. Please don't let him languish and rot at the bottom of the sea.
There are tears on his cheeks he didn't notice as he prayed. He wipes them, but there are more. More and more and more.
He pulls a straw mat close to the hearth and curls up, watching the incense rise to the ceiling, and he wonders how he'll explain this to Galene.
And then he falls asleep, dreaming fitfully of the trireme, of Athens, of turning his back too long to his master.
no subject
He’s grateful to Hermes, but he would rather handle these matters on his own. Relying on others to get things done is a special kind of torture.
Hermes’ insistence forces Achilles to remember the Aesir: how foreign and difficult they were. How easy it was for them to hold him captive. How furious it made him. There’s a good chance he’ll walk right into the same.
“So be it, magpie. I’ll await help.” He gives a relenting sigh, then after a beat, he continues with new urgency: “What about Epirus? What can be done for Molossus and Ophelia? Pyrrhus’ servant told his men that he was taken by my mother, but I’ve no idea how long that lie will hold.”
no subject
“Ophelia and Lykos are both clever. Give them your blessing and I’m certain they could outwit anyone.” And if they have tools, weapons … anything from Hephaestus, that can only improve their odds.
“If you can find my mother, yes—please.” Achilles moves his hands to grip Hermes’ forearm. “Tell her that I need her help in any way she can give it. If not for her grandson’s sake, then for mine and Lyra’s.”
no subject
His arms relax into an easy drape around Hermes’ waist and his head rests on his lover’s shoulder. Gods, he wishes they had the luxury of enjoying this rare moment together—that the strange god in the Levant would disappear and that Pyrrhus was safely at home in Epirus.
But that’s not the case. Neither of them can rest. And Achilles winces at the prospect of dealing with another trickster from a foreign land.
“Please tell me that this Lugh isn’t another Loki,” he mutters into Hermes’ neck.
no subject
Before Hermes can disappear, Achilles pulls him into a long parting kiss. He knows full well that this is what little he has to offer Hermes in return for all of his help.
“Take wing, magpie,” he whispers, stroking one of his wings before finally releasing him to the dream. “I’ll await your return.”