Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Theseus froze when a swift arrow flew just under his nose and embedded itself in the bark. It had taken him by surprise, so he was lucky no real assassination attempt was actually taking place.

Turning in the direction the arrow had come from he crossed his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow. “Newt! Are you trying to kill me now?”

“Sorry,” The bushes answered in a sarcastic tone “didn’t see you under all that beard.”

The greenery parted and out stepped a young, lean man holding a bow. His full mouth was slightly curled upwards in a candid smile. Not for the first time, Theseus’ breath caught momentarily at the sight of him, drinking in with hungry eyes the peppering of freckles over the rosy skin and flaming red hair.

“Wait a second!” He rushed to the boy, extending his hand to run his fingers over the exposed nape. The last time he’d saw Newt he still had wild curly locks collected in a ponytail that reached his shoulders. Now it was cut to a finger length, the back shorter than the fringe, which still seemed determined to imitate an angry bush. The silver diadem of Artemis gleaming unchanged under it. “Is that a declaration of intentions?”

“It’s a declaration of no longer being able to deal with a very bad tangle.” Newt swatted his hand away, huffing. “But if I’m lucky it will also deter pesky men invading this shrine for other reasons than bringing offerings to my lady Artemis.”

Theseus laughed, relieved. “Good, and here I thought I would need to change my approach. I don’t look good in braids.”

“You can’t be serious” Newt actually seemed taken aback by the implication and Theseus winked, leaning down to peck his cheek “I’m always serious when it comes to you.”

Newt didn’t stop him but didn’t lean in either, just narrowing his eyes, as if trying to figure out whether Theseus was pulling his leg or not.

As any Attican youth, him cutting his hair meant he was now considered a man, and therefore could choose for himself and seduce an eromenos, a younger pupil and a lover. Younger being the key there, unless he wanted to be made fun of and his masculinity questioned. Not that it really mattered in Newt's case since, as a priest of Artemis, he had sworn himself to chastity. It had come as a huge disappointment to Theseus, who had been persistently courting him ever since he had first noticed how beautiful Newt was. He hadn’t been the only one trying his luck back then but, thankfully, remained one of the few people that Newt had kept in contact with once he’d retired to the sacred forest.

They fell into step with each other, walking back to the shrine following a wide path through the trees, Newt’s bow thrown over the quill on his back. “So how did it go at Delphi?” He asked.

“You got my message?” Theseus was pleased “Wasn’t sure you would. And… well, I have some things to tell you. I didn’t come here just to stare into your pretty eyes, you see?” He grinned, bouncing on the balls of his feet, suddenly excited now that he remembered the reason he’d rode there.

“I can imagine” Newt chuckled, shooting a sideways glance at his visitor. As if judging Theseus’ messy hair and beard. He was used to seeing a much cleaner version of the prince of Attica, who had never lost the underlying hope to “sway him from his priestly duties” and therefore always made sure to look as dashing as he could when he came to visit. “The oracle say anything good, or... comprehensible?”

That question seemed to put a damp on Theseus’ spirits, shoulders dropping momentarily. However, before he said anything, they came in sight of the shrine and a loud barking overwhelmed any other sound around. A giant, black dog came out of nowhere, rushing their way, powerful legs almost flying in the air, teeth bared and ears up. He jumped straight at Theseus, almost toppling him over and, with one long swap of his tongue, covered the full side of his neck and head in drool.

“Ouuuff! Fido! Get down! Stop, stop you giant oaf!”

Never one to obey orders given by anyone but his owner Fido continued to waggle his tail at the speed of sound and licking Theseus’ face.

Finally Newt, who had doubled over laughing, gave out a sharp whistle and the dog leaped away, running in circles around them and then skipping to Theseus’ side. He didn’t try to attack his face again but panted happily when the man ruffled the fur between his ears.

“See? He loves me.”

“I love you too.” Newt shrugged, still snickering under his breath “You just don’t know how to take a hand and stop trying to grab the arm.”

“I want to grab more of you than just the arm.” Theseus couldn’t resist, but Newt scrunched up his nose.

“Are you really trying to flirt with me while looking, and smelling, like a bowl of dog food?”

“Oh, right.”

In the end, he managed to clean himself up in the stream behind the temple and came back to Newt sitting on the steps with Fido’s head on his lap and a plate of figs by his side. Theseus took a seat too and helped himself to a few pieces of fruit.

“So, I take you came from Delphi with mixed feelings,” Newt asked.

Theseus nodded. “You know about the rumors coming from Crete and the Peloponnese? We’ve been providing sanctuary to people that decided to leave. They say dire times are coming. Something big, and bad.” Newt nodded, mouth drawing in a thin line. Yes, he’s been having troublesome dreams and feelings as of late too. “My father wanted me to go to Delphi and ask the Oracle about the future of Attica. I figured… I could get a prediction for myself as well, about you know,” he waved his hand “what I should do in life.”

“Still dealing with your crisis I see?”

“It’s not a crisis, but a valid concern. I’m a legal citizen and a bastard prince. My brothers are much older, well prepared, and very ready to take the throne the moment my dad sneezes the wrong way. I can’t spend my entire life hunting and showing up to feasts. And dad didn’t even let me join the army, even if he was the one that has been insisting my whole life I should have the best trainers. For what? Shooting geese? I’m named after the greatest hero in our history, and yet I feel as useful as a-”

“An infant princess, I know.” Newt rolled his eyes, very familiar by now with that tirade “The Oracle?”

“Oh, right.” Theseus pepped up “Well, I wanted to get two prophecies but the old hag only gave me one. Hear it out tho,” He cleared his throat, before speaking in a voice an octave lower:

By Ichor spilling in the East 

And blood of mortals in the west 

Dawn of the new gods reborn 

The mark of wisdom finds its home

Within the hold of his own kin 

The sword of Theseus blessed by sin 

And in the glory of Athens throne 

Shall western world bathe evermore 

Newt looked at him, puzzled. "Ichor is the blood of the gods... it's two mentions of blood in one couplet."

"Yeah, sounds bad. But then it talks about Athens' glory! That's so amazing, right?" Theseus grinned excitedly. 

"I guess..." Newt didn't seem very convinced, his brow creasing in deep thought "It mentions your sword as well?"

“Not mine! I mean, the prophecy is a riddle, as expected, but I'm pretty sure it refers to the sword of my great-grandfather, the most impressive hero of all times! Theseus, son of Aegeus! His sword must be the key to save the city. And it has to be wielded by one of his blood. So, anyone from my dad’s line, really.”

Newt seemed even more puzzled than before “That's a bit too straightforward, don’t you think? If it's supposed to be a riddle... are you sure it means his actual sword?”

“Well, it can’t be his dead boner, so I'm guessing yes. And it even makes sense! The sword that Aegeus buried under a rock until Theseus was old enough to lift it and find it. The sword that he used to best his first enemies and make a name for himself before arriving to Athens already a hero, the sword that saved his life when wicked Medea tried to poison him! It must be a divine relic now! Charged with power!” The current Theseus' eyes were gleaming. Newt put up a hand.

“Yes, I grew up in Athens, I know all the stories of the life of Theseus. Where is that sword now?”

“See? Here’s the problem-” The prince settled back down “It’s lost.”

“Lost?!”

A nod “I sent a word beforehand, had all the library searched. The last record we have of it is when my great-uncle Arcamas took it with him to Troy. My grandfather mentions in his memories that the last time he saw it was when his brother and he set off to rescue their grandmother, who was a slave to Helen. However, on their way back they faced many enemies and, at some point, Arcamas lost the sword and replaced it with a Trojan spear. That was the last time it was ever seen.”

A tense silence descended upon them, interrupted only by Fido’s heavy breathing.

“So the sword is still in Troy?” Newt asked finally.

“It’s a possibility.” Theseus agreed, looking up at the purpling sky. He should be departing soon if he wanted to reach the city before night fell.

“Theseus…”

“Yes?”

“What stupid thing did you come up with?”

Theseus chuckled. “Glad you ask. I convinced my dad to let me go in search of it!”

Newt turned to him, frowning. “You and what army?”

“No army. Troy might be burned down and abandoned, but we can’t risk the Thracians to think they are under attack. No, I’m going by myself and a small company.”

“That’s a long journey.” Newt mumbled, looking down at his hands, that had stopped cradling through Fido’s fur. He was right of course, Troy was way further than Delphi and god knows how long will it take them to dig through the ruins of the city. Like looking for a needle in a haystack. “Have you come to say goodbye then?”

“No” Theseus wondered how to put it into words and decided to go straight to the point “I’ve come to ask you to accompany me.”

“What!?”

“Look” Theseus raised his hands, trying to explain “The outskirts are becoming more dangerous day by day, with all these southerners coming and turning to pillage. It’s not advisable for you to remain here, living on your own in the middle of a forest.”

“What am I? A defenseless maiden?”

“Of course not! You are a skilled archer and the best tracker I know. And you are favored by an Olympian Goddess. But what if you are attacked by a mob? Or an invading army comes? I think, and father agrees, that it would be best for you to return to the city.”

Newt huffed, crossing his arms over his chest “I don’t like it. It’s too narrow, full of people and smells like piss.”

“I know. So the alternative is for you to come with me. Your skills will be of great use in the expedition and I can’t promise the ship isn’t gonna be crowded or will smell like flowers, but at least you won’t be stuck in one place, worrying about me day and night, right?”

Newt looked like he was gonna argue again but that last part actually made him shut his mouth. However, he wasn’t sold yet, so Theseus pressed on.

“C’mon. Killed and raped, probably in that order, by an invading army? Cramped in your father’s old home next to a rowdy market? Or going on to live a great adventure with me across the sea? We will be like the pairs of heroes of old! You can be my Pirithous.”

Newt smiled involuntarily, raising his eyes to meet Theseus’

“You are aware of how he ended, right?”

Theseus shrugged “Unless you find your lust and try to ravish the queen of the Underworld, you are safe. And even if you change your mind on the celibacy thing I will be right there too, so you are still safe.”

Now Newt full on snorted “How reassuring.” He said sarcastically. Then looked aside, into the darkening woods. “What about the rest of the prophecy? The blood of gods spilled in the west?”

"Could be Troy, could be even further west, irrelevant to our quest. I'm not planning to fight any god in a long-abandoned city in ruins, or dwell on lines I can't understand. I would rather focus on the ones I do, and I would love for you to help me out."

Newt smiled when Theseus gave him the pretty please look "I'll think about it."

Theseus beamed. “You can bring Fido if you want. His fat ass could use an adventure as well.”

The dog raised his head and looked at him with giant, betrayed eyes.

“Don’t listen to him” Newt cooed, flattening the animal’s ears to its skull, he’s just jealous of your powerful hindquarters.

“His hindquarters are bigger than a mare’s” Theseus kept teasing “Speaking of which- I should go now or I’ll be caught by Nyx.”

Newt agreed. He and Fido accompanied Theseus to the edge of the forest, where he had left his horse tied to a tree, but the younger man was distracted the whole way, lost in deliberations.

“We are leaving in five days,” Theseus said, smiling gently. “from the Athenian harbor.”

He bent down to kiss the corner of Newt’s lips; a dry, chaste contact of barely any pressure, but long and warm, feeling the flutter of Newt’s eyelashes on his own skin. When he straightened up Newt’s eyes were closed. He opened them slowly and gently leaned in, to rest his forehead on Theseus’ shoulder for a good minute.

“I’ll think about it.” He repeated, reluctantly stepping back.

Theseus beamed at him and mounted his horse. Coming from that man, it’s as close to an agreement as he was gonna get.

Chapter Text

The harbor was boiling with the populace. The merchant ships loading and unloading their contents: jars of oil and wine, salted meats and fishes, sacks of fruit and rolls of fabric. Men selling tools and women offering jewelry, herbs, and clothes. Animals tied with rope and dragged by their necks; pigs, geese, and bovines. Stubborn goats that refused to move, children chasing each other or stray cats, young couples walking hand on hand, slaves rushing after their masters…

Theseus greatly enjoyed the lively atmosphere of a sunny Attican morning. But the enthusiasm of the journey he was about to embark on significantly dwarfed any kind nostalgia he might have prematurely felt.

Even if the king had finally accepted that “the joy of his old age”, his favorite son, was mature enough to leave home and experience his own quest, he made sure to provide for the cause one of his best ships. A latest-model trireme of dark wood and bronze ram, elegant carvings, two strong masts, pristine sails and fifteen rows of oars on each side. All that topped with a catapult in the middle and an eagle carved into the prow. It was not a big or particularly intimidating ship, but that was the idea, to pretend to be merchants with only good intentions.

Theseus stood with his hands in on his hips, proudly admiring it from the pier as the helmsman and the captain shouted orders from the foredeck.

A heavy hand laid on his shoulder.

“You should get up there. It’s time to release the sails.” His brother, Thymoetes, said, not unkindly. And Theseus knew he was right. He looked up at the ship again, and then around the harbor of Athens one more time, disappointment settling in his stomach and damping his spirits. Well, it had been too much to hope for.

He turned to give a cordial hug to his brother, who reciprocated half-heartedly. Thymoetes was far from Theseus’ favorite sibling, but they probably wouldn't see each other in months. Then Thymoetes… started to knead his back with his fists making a lot of force? And he screeched, going pale?

Theseus tried to extricate himself but found out that he could not step back as the two points of pressure were applying a heavy weight on his back, accompanied by a throaty huffing and rancid stench. Turning his head to look over his shoulder he found himself face-to-face with a happy Fido, that was standing on his back legs, front paws on Theseus' shoulder-blades and tongue hanging out, drooling on Theseus’ shoulder.

“Why are you like this?” Theseus laughed “Down boy, down!”

The giant beast of a dog sat down and let himself be absentmindedly petted by the prince, that looked around for his owner.

Newt was standing a few feet away, clad in his traveling cloak — complete with a silver pin in the shape of Artemis’ holy stag — and clutching his bow in his hands, a sack thrown over his shoulder from which was poking what looked like a lifetime supply of arrows. He seemed excessively uncomfortable, eyeing the crowd and hunching his shoulders with a broody expression on his face. He always hated to be in the middle of a rowdy atmosphere, especially if he didn’t know a single soul. Theseus strode towards him and wrapped his whole body in a bear hug, practically lifting him off the ground. Now, that was a real embrace!

“You came!” He muffled happily into Newt’s hair, kissing his temple.

The boy smiled, bringing up his hands to push Theseus away, but kept his palms on his chest, so the prince could take one and kiss the inside of his wrist.

“On two conditions” Newt shot him a stern look.

“Anything!”

“First, I know you probably have your own chamber. I’m staying with you. No way I’m going to sleep in the common deck with a bunch of smelly, perverted seamen.”

Theseus practically skipped in one place with joy. “Sleeping in the same bed as you?! Consider it done!”

Newt shook his head, trying to stiffen a smile. “Okay, let us make it into three conditions. No being handsy.”

He could live with that. Theseus nodded. “And the last one?”

“We will have to stop at two islands on our way to fallen Troy; Lesvos and Lemnos. I want to visit some particular temples of my lady Artemis.”

Theseus thought about that. They were going to stop at Lemnos anyway, but Lesvos would mean a slight detour. Whatever, he was sure he could convince the captain to alter their course a few days. “Alright. Anything for you, my dear. You will see! We are going to be like the Argonauts!”

He put a hand around Newt’s shoulders, walking with him towards where Thymoetes and Fido were holding a distrustful staring contest. Thymoetes was the first to break it, frowning at Newt, who bowed his head in a sign of respect. “Your Highness.”

“Newton. Are you coming along?”

“Yes, Theseus invited me, counting on my skills as a bowsman.”

“Yeah, right…” He obviously wasn't buying it and turned to Theseus. “Remember what Father talked to you about?”

Theseus rolled his eyes and pushed Newt towards the ramp, following him to board the ship, where everyone was already waiting for them. “Yeah, you can tell him my answer is still the same.”

If Thymoetes answered something it got lost in the cluttering of the harbor and the noises of a working crew. Once the last three passengers, two human and one canine, were on board and the plank raised, the captain gave the order to unroll the sails and release the anchor stone.

The Mooncalf – for that was the name of the ship – plunged a little, as if ducking under the breeze, then came upright and surged serenely forward.

“What was that about?” Asked Newt, referring to the brother's remarks to each other.

“I shall tell you later.” Theseus promised, “Now I need to speak to the captain about Lesvos.”

As he had foreseen, Percival was not amused. However, not only was Theseus a prince, but he was in command of the quest. Rambling under his breath about spoiled, capricious children, comments that Theseus chose to ignore, the captain unrolled his maps and started to trace a new route.

Satisfied with the outcome of the negotiation, Theseus trailed along the ship, introducing himself and making small talk with the crew. He was aware that a friendly leader was more likely to draw in the loyalty of his servants, and so he smiled and complimented the sailors on their strength and various qualities. Then he devised a familiar flock of red hair on the quarterdeck. Newt seemed uncomfortable, enduring the conversation of two of the crewmen. He was stiff and looking aside, lips drawn tight, while one of the men cooed at him and made a move to touch his face. Newt drew back and hissed in return. But before the sailor could do anything else, Theseus was there, throwing one arm across Newt’s midsection to bring them together. The moment Newt realized who it was he instantly relaxed.

“There you are, sweetheart,” Theseus said, way too cheerfully, just as he cast a gelid glare at the two men, that gulped and started apologizing, visibly paling.

Theseus waved them away, well aware that they would not try that again and most surely were gonna tell the entire crew that the pretty boy was off-limits.

“Sorry, that’s what you get for being so beautiful.”

“I think they confused me with the ship’s assigned prostitute,” Newt mumbled, darkly, brooding into the distance.

Theseus laughed and let go of him, leaning on the railing to look out at sea as well. “Not a bad idea, we should pick one up at Lesvos.”

“You convinced the captain?” Newt turned to him, pleasantly surprised.

“Yeah, made a pretty satisfying deal as well. To save on resources in exchange for that detour we won’t be stopping at Skopelos.”

“Why is that a satisfying deal?”

“Eh...” Theseus waved a hand “My father wanted me to drop by to rely his greetings to the King of the island and to meet his daughters. Apparently, he’s got five of them.”

Newt tensed up by his side “What for?”

“What do you think?” Theseus turned to face him, crossing his arms over his chest. “He says I’m of age already which, I mean, he’s right, and that I should take this trip as an opportunity to find a well-connected wife.”

“So that’s why Thymoetes was so cross to see me.”

“Yeah well, I made it very clear that he already has two well-married off sons. I guess they think I should follow their example as well.”

Newt deliberated, not meeting his eyes for a while, looking out at the blue expanse instead. “Maybe you should consider it.” He said, finally, in a low voice.

Theseus snorted “Not a chance. I enjoy the company of a warm maiden on the weekends as much as any man, but when it comes to something real… I said so already, many times, it’s either you or nobody.”

Newt sighed, and Theseus was actually expecting him to keep arguing about not resigning himself to “nobody” because vote of chastity and life of cult and blah blah blah… but instead, his companion just rested his elbows on the railing, facing away from him and apparently dropping that conversation.

Theseus waited for him to say something but then shrugged and went in search of Fido, who might have been exploring his new home for the time, least the bumbass beast got itself into a tight place and broke something trying to get free.

They seemed to be having a good wind in their favor, which alleviated much the task of the rowers. The helmsman attributed it to the Gods being pleased with their sacrifices and Theseus didn’t argue with that. He had, in fact, made all the appropriate sacrifices to every god and titan that had a temple in Athens, just in case. Well, everyone except one, whose share he used to double up on the offerings to Athena.

Usually, that was a recipe for disaster, provoking the ire of an ignored deity, but what was she gonna do? Get down there for a change and yell at him? Yeah, there he was, waiting.

The rest of the day passed in idle little tasks: lunch, some conversations with Percival and the helmsman, hiding in the shade of the sails and studying maps... How Newt managed to avoid him in that tiny space was well beyond Theseus, but by the time he stumbled into his cabin at night the priest was already asleep in his bed. Taking off his sandals and changing into a night cloth, Theseus crawled under the sheet beside him. He was almost in the land of Morpheus when he felt Newt turn and stick his face in his neck.

Chapter Text

Theseus woke up alone.

Well, he woke up as the only human in the cabin, as Fido was snoring loudly with his head on the floor and his ass on the bed, almost crushing Theseus’ legs.

The peculiar picture was enough to will most of his morning wood away. Snickering, Theseus extricated himself and, stepping over the sleeping dog, walked out and climbed the ladder to the deck.

It was still early morning, the sky clearing up but dark enough, cloudless, barely marred by a streak of pink on the horizon that cast a warm tint on the sea mist. Shivering away the settling chill, Theseus alleviated himself, waved to the sleepy course lookout and set to walk through the deserted dock to the lone figure at the helm.

He sat beside Newt and closed his eyes, listening to the gentle rocking of the waves.

A barely audible whisper brought him out of his reverie. Turning to the priest he saw his lips move quietly as his gaze lay fixed on the line of sunrise.

Theseus scrunched up his nose.

“You are not praying to her , are you? Because that’s a waste of time.”

Newt blinked but didn’t stop murmuring for another few seconds. Then, he cleared his throat and turned to Theseus. “I was praying to Apollo, for your information. Brother of my Lady Artemis and the patron of the Island we are headed to. But you really shouldn’t show such hostility and disrespect to any deity, regardless of personal feelings.”

As an answer to that, Theseus made a really crude gesture to the east.

Newt snorted.

“You know? To an uninformed individual, it just looks like you’ve got beef with the sun.”

Theseus sighed and fell on his side, resting his head on Newt’s thigh. It’s not like he had anything against the sun in particular. He loved clear days and warmth, respected and venerated Apollo and the Titan Helios, even the Hesperides of sunset. Now, the goddess of dawn, Eos. Yes, you could say with her the prince had some beef.

Because she was his mother.

It was a long and sad story, really. Unlucky Eos had been caught in bed with Ares, the god of war, by no other than Aphrodite herself. Enraged and jealous, Aphrodite cursed Eos to be always lustful and lovesick, but to never find happiness in love for long. She had some significant romances, even bore mortal kings by her mortal lovers, but just as Aphrodite has promised, sorrow always found her in one way or another.

And one night, visiting one of her temples in Attica, she stumbled on another unlucky soul. king Oxyntes had recently lost his wife and was still grieving her passing. Even in his advanced age, he was still a fit and handsome man, emanating all the power and authority of a great monarch but so vulnerable in those moments that the sight of him melted the heart of Eos.

The passion between them was quick and abrasive. Healing and entertaining for both of them, but there was never any actual love there. Yet, she bore a son from him. A healthy but mortal boy that Oxyntes adored with his entire soul. Eos also checked up on her child from time to time, to see him grow and learn under his father’s watchful care. Until one day, when the kid was almost four years of age, she visited the court when the king was in a meeting with one of his advisors and wealthy merchants.

He was a young man of beautiful face and kind eyes, shapely body and such a melodic voice that Eos fell in love immediately. As she was used to doing in such cases, she abducted him to her Eastern Palace. But he begged her to return him home, to let him uphold the business his father founded from the ground. She let herself be persuaded but still visited him every day. As soon as she was done with her duty of opening the doors of hell to let the sun chariot, driven by her brother Helios, out, she rushed to Athens to play the role of a mortal housewife. She soon gave birth to a child from that man, another healthy boy.

Theseus remembered through the fog of distant memory being a kid and spending time in his mother’s temple of Athens. Playing with his little half-brother and listening to the goddess herself teach them stories of Olympian gods, of the birth of the world and the discords of the all-mighty.

Her lover would join them sometimes and he would laugh when she went on a tirade of the evils of Aphrodite. “Don’t poison their young minds, my dear” he would say “better teach them of the miracles of Apollo and Athena; of the mercy of Artemis and the power of Poseidon; or what about that time Achilles fought a river god and won?”

That idyllic family life lasted for seven years. Then, disaster struck.

Maybe it was the curse of the Love Goddess or just bad luck, but during one of the disease plagues that hit the city, Eos lost her beloved. It turned out to be his fate, decided by the Moirai upon his birth, so there was nothing she could do for him except wish him a safe journey to the underworld. Seven days and seven nights did Eos weep her disgrace. And then, she left.

Just disappeared one day for good. Never to come back. Maybe she found somebody else to fall in love with, maybe Athens just reminded her of him too much to bear. But in vain did Theseus pray, call out, and waited for her to come back. After several years had passed he understood that she had abandoned them. Him with his father, a prince and well cared for, but his brother as a complete orphan, left under the tutelage of her followers, many of whom decided in time that they would rather hail other gods. That whole debacle did Eos no good in Athens.

Maybe she remembered how mortal they both were and wanted to spare herself another heartbreak. Maybe she just didn’t care. Theseus couldn't understand what kind of mother would be so cold and callous and as the disillusion settled in, his love was replaced by bitter resentment.

Sunrise was a special moment of the day for him; he always felt more energetic and cleverer then. His divine lineage didn't make him immortal but yes, stronger and more resistant than the average mortal. It was difficult to flaunt it, however, when it reminded him so viscerally of the most painful sort of abandonment a child could suffer. 

The dawn was his best time, but he often chose to sleep through it. 

Chapter Text

They had been at sea for just four days and Theseus was already about to lose his mind.

Truth be told - when he’d been fantasizing about this journey he imagined himself as Jason and his crew as the Argonauts, living wild adventures, escaping the clutches of death every other minute, chasing away monsters and changing the world forever.

However, so far the most exciting thing that had happened was a crewman falling overboard and being rescued by his friend by throwing down a rope.  

Theseus secretly blamed Newt who, by the way, managed to invent a new sport. He just stood on deck for hours, bow at the ready and a long thread tied to the tail of an arrow, glaring into the water. Then suddenly he would draw the bow and shoot.

Eight out of ten times the arrow would come back up piercing some big fish.

Theseus tried to do the same but neither his aim nor his eyesight or patience were that good. In fact, his hyperactive brain got distracted after twenty seconds of concentration and he almost shot Percival by mistake. As a result, though, they always had fresh fish to eat and Newt insisted on offering the best pieces as sacrifices to the Gods, to ensure smooth and favorable winds.

So far, the gods seemed satisfied. Well, at least they would arrive at Lesvos soon.

It also served to win the admiration of everyone on board, and very soon Newt stopped being regarded as just “the royal concubine”.

And there lied the second problem.

Everyone just assumed that, going by their casual  intimacy, the fact that they were sharing a bed, and Newt’s youthful beauty, so fit for an eromenos despite his cut hair… well, that Theseus was constantly getting some. In truth, he hadn’t had to handle so much of his own wood since he’d picked up oak carving as a hobby at seventeen.

“I’m sorry” He apologized every morning, when they woke up tangled in each other and his erection poking Newt’s thigh.

“S’okay” Newt mumbled sleepily and kissed his cheek, extricating himself out of bed to go up the deck for his morning prayers and leaving Theseus to deal with his own body. And maybe it was just Theseus’ imagination playing tricks on his lovesick mind, or it was Newt’s pity on him what made him actually move his leg just the right way, tilt his hips or brush his hand more languidly than he needed to push himself away. Sometimes Theseus thought Newt intentionally played him, kept him on the hook by giving him hope. “You are the only one I have left. The only one I trust.” A much younger Newt had told him years ago, just after rejecting him again. “Even if it would be wrong, between us, in the eyes of society, if I were to choose a mortal to give myself over, it would probably be you. However, it’s a Goddess whom I promised myself to. And she demands from her followers to be their only love.” He’d laughed when Theseus asked if there was any way to make him change his mind. “You’re welcome to keep trying, but don’t actually expect my faith to waver.”

A cry from above brought Theseus out of his reminiscence.

“Land ahead!!” The watcher shouted, and the entire trireme sprung into movement. Theseus skipped over some coils of rope, a rolling barrel, and reached the captain, who was giving instructions to the helmsman, “aided” by an excited Fido, that panted and waggled his tail as if he understood what was going on.

“It’s Lesvos!” Percival confirmed “We could reach the nearest port in a couple of hours or change course and round the south coast. That will bring us to Thermi by nightfall but we will need to wait till morning to go into the port since the local nobles were not expecting us and might get defensive.”

Theseus looked around, not seeing Newt anywhere. He must have locked himself in their cabin again. “Let’s just go for land.” He decided. “We could use some fresh beer and send word by horse to the capital city.”

Percival nodded and started shouting out orders again. Theseus helped to secure a rope and loosen the sails, waited until all the rowers took their places, and then went in search of Newt.

He knocked on the door and announced himself, waiting for the reply.

“Land?” Newt asked, looking up from his doodling. He was sitting on the bed, a fresh ceramic tablet on his knees where he was carving the image of a boar. Leaving his utensils aside he made space for Theseus, who reclined himself on the pillows next to him.

“We are going to spend the night at the port ahead and leave for the capital tomorrow, if the conditions are still favorable. Do you want to go upside to watch the landing?” He asked it gently, placing an arm around Newt’s shoulders.

“I would rather not. I’m… just tired of all the noise and the amount of movement, of people outside. I need to be alone for a while. I’m sorry.”

Theseus smiled. Newt has always been like that: easily overwhelmed and a lover of quiet. “It’s okay. I just wanted to inform you. Get out whenever you feel ready. I’m going to leave the ship once we land and probably get a room in town for myself, some real food and sleep for once in a bed that doesn’t rock. Do you want me to take care of that for you as well?”

“Thank you!” Newt smiled at him brightly and with so much gratitude that Theseus could feel his cheeks flush. “And… I was thinking?”

“Yes?”

“If we can get restocked here and nobody else has any business in Thermi, I could go alone. The temple I need to visit is not in the city area but in a valley, further north. I could rent a mule and be back the next day, give time for the crew to rest and have some fun time with the locals.”

Theseus deliberated about that. While Lesvos was ruled by the Aeolians now, friends of Athens, it’s unlikely that the island had forgotten its centuries under the Trojan influence or forgiven the sacks and offenses committed to it during the war. On the other hand, the Islanders famously worshipped Leto’s twins: Artemis and Apollo. It was foolish to suspect anyone would ever attack a priest of one of them.

“Maybe I should come with you, just in case? It’s not like we won’t have to wait for favorable wind to leave port again anyway. We have time.”

Newt shook his head “What I have to ask her is private, and I also want to hunt and offer my Lady a sacrifice. You will just be a third leg for me.”

“How lovely. But alright. Just be careful, my love.”

Newt smiled at him  “I always am. Now, don’t you have a ship to run?”

“That’s Percy’s job.” Theseus snorted “But I get the hint: no more questions and to leave you alone.” He stood up and bowed to give Newt a peck on the forehead. “See you later, come out whenever you are ready.”

Standing on solid floors after half a week in a ship was an incredibly weird experience. Theseus was sure the ground had no business being that still. But the night of drinking in the tavern and sleeping like a dead man on a real bed was an amazing experience. Not so much being awoken by someone shaking him early in the morning “Leave me beee…” He mumbled, barely discerning through his clogged eyes a bush of copper hair. Instinctively, and despite his whining, he reached for Newt, whom he had missed in his bed, closing his eyes again and drifting back to sleep when he found a warm body to curl around.

He woke up several hours later, hungover and snuggling Fido.

The dog, being the good boy he is, licked his face and started drumming his tail against Theseus’ leg. Hungover, Theseus felt the urge to throw up but held it down. He went to push Fido away but it was like trying to move a mountain by blowing at it. Resigned, he climbed over the heap of meat and stood up wobbly.

“So? Did your owner abandon you as well?” Fido answered him with a mournful whine and licked his hand. Right, between dog slobber and the headache, Theseus really could use a bath, taking advantage of the fact that the guest house had a thermal well. He ended up getting it with a side of Fido that, in absence of Newt, decided to shadow him, and took the opportunity to scrub both himself and the dog clean. As difficult as it was because while the giant pup was very fond of splashing around in warm water, he did not appreciate the cleansing balm that Lesvos was so famous for. Theseus ended up wrestling to pin the writhing dog in place with both legs and one arm while the other furiously worked the foamy balm into the fur.

Finally, both he and Fido were clean and smelled better than they did in days. Or, in Fido’s case, probably ever. One of the crewmen found him while he was drying himself off and informed him that he’s been invited, along with Percival, to dinner with the town’s mayor.

Oh well, he still had some time, so they took a walk around town, which really didn’t impress him much as used as he was to the grand opulence of Athens. However, he found a beautiful bronze wristband with images of wild animals that he bought for Newt.

Happy with his purchase and thinking about his favorite priest he changed into a better tunic and met Percival on their way to the mayor’s.

Both the aged man and his wife were lovely and they spent a nice evening, marred only by a discussion of recent news.

“Have you heard?” the governor asked “about the fall of Messenia? Horrible, horrible really. These Sea Peoples… you know they say those are the descendants of Heracles? Coming back to claim their ancestor’s conquered land? I hope that means they won’t be reaching here. We are on alert, training all our youth.”

“Athens is in full military campaign as well.” Theseus confirmed “A war like the one that’s coming, the wise ones believe, haven’t been seen since Troy.”

“Oh, about Athens! Is it true that the King refused to give sanctuary to the exiled royal house of Messenia?”

Theseus, who was pretending to be a minor noble, not a prince, bit on his lip. “I haven’t heard anything about that, no.” It didn’t sound like his father at all, to refuse to provide help to a friendly kingdom.

And he told so to Percival on their way back.

“I’m sure it was just a rumor.” The captain tried to reassure him “After all, prophets and birds are not always to be trusted with information. We’ll see what else gets known in the next few days. Don’t dwell on it.”

But politics remained on his mind even as he went to sleep, turning around and struggling to find a comfortable space between the wall and Fido.

His dreams were full of warnings and deep shadows, voices of times past and storms. At some point, he woke up shivering in cold sweat and drew the sheet covering his body up to his nose. Fido nuzzled his hair, whining softly and Theseus burrowed himself against the dog’s side in gratitude, letting his warmth and reassuring presence lull him back into a shallow sleep that turned back into a nightmare early in the morning. He definitely woke up when Fido jumped off the bed, leaving him cold and confused, feeling as though it would have been better not to have gone to sleep at all.

Tired and fighting off the low throb of headache, Theseus stumbled through the door and down the corridor to the thermal well, feeling his way along the wall with a hand.

The path down to the hot springs was lit by the clearing sky in that windless morning, the movement of water, only sound on the sleeping island. Theseus followed the cloud of steam rising from the well and shed his clothes at the edge of it, stretching his naked body under the feeble light of the waning moon.

It wasn't until he had stepped with one foot in that he noticed somebody else was already there. Instinctively, he assumed a defensive stance, but relaxed at the sight of a familiar mop of red hair, immediately feeling better.

“Hey! You're back.”

Newt blinked owlishly, nodded, and sunk lower, so just the top half of his flushed face was visible, mouth making bubbles underwater.

Endeared, Theseus swam towards him, but when he was close enough to see his face in full detail the smile fell off his lips.

Newt's clear eyes were glossy and rimmed in red. He looked like he'd just been crying.

Theseus’ instincts kicked in. He drew Newt in, hugging him tight and whispering soothingly sweet reassurances “hey, shhh… it’s alright kiddo, everything’s fine. I’m here, I’m going to take care of you. It’s all fine sweetie.”

Newt exhaled on his shoulder, progressively relaxing into the embrace, from an awkward stiffness to their naked bodies melting against each other. Finally, he drew back, and there were fresh tears in the corners of his eyes. Theseus raised his hands and rubbed them away with his thumbs.

“What happened? Did something go wrong? You are not hurt, are you?”

Newt shook his head, looking aside. “No, everything went as planned. I visited the priestess and we talked, and I came back safe. It’s just that…”

“She said something bad to you?”

Newt bit on his lip, eyes closing with a frown. “I- I guess so. I’m not even sure yet to be honest, but I need to rethink a lot of stuff. I… don’t want to talk about this now. I will tell you later, once I figure out how I should feel.”

Theseus wanted to point out that if he was crying, then Newt already knew how he felt. But he didn’t want to pressure him, so he let that conversation die. Reaching for one of the jars with cleaning balm on the edges of the spring, he cupped some in his hands and stood behind Newt, proceeding to wash his hair. The foam smelled of herbs and smoke, and the sun rose slowly and languidly behind the trees and hills.

“I had a dream today,” Theseus said after a while. “Your father was in it.”

Newt turned to face him, spotting a frown “My dad?”

“Yes. I was having nightmares and I don’t remember much, but I’m pretty sure I saw him or heard in any case. He seemed angry. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him angry when he was alive. He reminded me, very sternly, that I had promised to protect and take care of you. Then vanished.”

Newt tilted his head “did you really?”

Theseus shrugged “I don’t remember doing so, but I mean… I didn’t need to. It’s implicit that I love you and will do anything to protect you, even if you don’t need me for that anymore. You know that.”

For the first time in the morning, Newt smiled. “I do. And I’m sure it was nothing prophetic."

"Aren't demigod nightmares always prophetic?"

Newt chose to ignore that statement. "Did anything happen to make you stressed?”

Theseus told him about the dinner and the news from Messenia. Newt nodded. “That must be it. Once we get to Lemnos we can ask around if any more information reached them. For now, there’s nothing we can do. Don’t you worry too much about it.”

Yeah, easier said than done.

Chapter Text

They stayed at Lesvos for another week, waiting for Notus, the southern wind, to blow and allow them to restart their journey. Theseus attended another dinner at the governor’s home, who introduced him to his grandson, a plump boy that blushed furiously every time Theseus glanced in his general direction. When he finally managed to extricate himself from that house with excuses of how he really couldn't take an extra person on board at this point of their journey and that surely he would pick up the kid as his pupil on their way back - a promise he had no intention to fulfill - he breathed a sigh of relief. Newt, who ended up accompanying him, seeing as Percival had been “abducted” by a pretty local widow, and had been no help at all, found it all very amusing.

“Yeah, you laugh,” Theseus grumbled under his breath “just because you don’t appreciate my sexual appeal and prime pedigree doesn’t mean that the rest of the world can’t.”

Newt shot him a weird look, then glanced up at the night sky, then back at Theseus, as if weighing something on his mind, but said nothing.

He had been behaving weirdly in general ever since he came back from his trip. That very morning they’d attended a sacrificial ritual for Artemis in the town’s shrine. As a high priest, Newt had been offered the honor of officiating it, but refused, alleging that he preferred to watch the island’s customs. Theseus had thought nothing of it until he noticed the complete look of misery on his beloved’s face as the light of the flames danced over it. It had taken him two hours and a very stupid stunt with Fido to cheer up Newt again.

“I will kill that stupid bitch for whatever she said to you!” Theseus finally lost patience after catching Newt brooding again.

“That will only bring the curse of the gods on you.” Newt sighed, grabbing his hand to stop him from marching out. “I never want you to hurt others or yourself for my sake.”

“Are you serious?” Theseus’ eyebrows shot up at that. “I would kill for the man I love in a heartbeat, but-” He put up a hand to stop Newt from interrupting him “I would just as readily die for my little brother, such is my duty. You can’t ask me not to do either.”

Newt looked like he wanted to protest but Theseus crossed his arms over his chest, cheeks puffing up like a defiant toddler and that coarsed a smile out of Newt, who beckoned him closer to kiss the crease between his brows away. “Just keep in mind that you are all I have left.” He said softly. “The way to fulfill your duty towards me is to take care of yourself.”

And it was hard to argue with that.

Finally, the day woke up with a strong breeze from the south-east. The Mooncalf had been at the ready for days so they just sent out word alerting the crew. Theseus personally extricated Percival from his widow’s horny clutches and before the sun had made its full climb towards the utmost point in the sky the ship, sails sprung tight with the wind, was speeding out of the harbor. Leaving behind the sandy-white shores of Lesvos and the rocky mountains at its heart, covered in everlasting greenery and grey rocks. Lesvos with its hot wells and cleansing balms that smelled of herbs and ashes, with its loyal worshipers of the twin gods Apollo and Artemis, dwelling in deep forests and seaside temples.

In just a few days, Theseus was going to be wiping the blood off his eyes and missing the easy comforts of that island, but the first day back sailing turned out to be rather uneventful. It transitioned into a cool, cloudy afternoon that cast the sea waters into shimmering silver. The sky only cleared up after sunset, and the winds died down under the infinite mantle of the milky way, stars, and images of gods, heroes and beasts lighting up a moonless night.

Theseus said goodbye to Percival and the rowers he’d stayed chatting with until late, feeling his way down to his cabin careful not to make too much noise and yawning sleepily. However, when he opened his door he was met with an oil lamp flooding the cramped space with its orange glow and Newt, sitting cross-legged on the middle of the bed with his eyes closed.

He opened them when Theseus walked in and there were too many emotions reflected on his face to read properly. Immediately, he knew that something serious was going on.

“Is everything alright?” Theseus asked quietly, closing the door behind him and looking around. “Where’s Fido?”

“With the crew. I need to talk to you alone.”

Theseus resisted pointing out that generally said, the dog was a pretty good keeper of secrets. Newt patted the bed beside him and Theseus obliged, lowering himself with one leg bent and another extended behind Newt’s back.

The priest inhaled sharply but visibly forced himself to relax. He was obviously nervous about something and biting on his lips, as if to stop or encourage himself to speak.

Theseus tried to give him time, but after several minutes passed his curiosity got the best of him.

“Is this about the priestess?”

Newt nodded. “Yes, but it’s a longer story than that.”

“Okay,” Theseus carefully wrapped his arms around him and fell backward, shuffling until they were laying on the bed with Newt’s head on his chest, comfortably locked in a supportive embrace with their legs intertwined. “we have plenty of time.”

Newt nodded against his collarbone and started talking.

“When late Iphigenia was training me to become her successor, she would tell me about the connection a priestess or priest had to the one god they worshipped. About how it felt to have an insight into the infinite mind of a deity. It’s a connection I felt only a couple of times, not dissimilar to the one I felt to Mother when I was little. In fact, she said she’d chosen me because I had first-generation divine blood, which was becoming rarer and rarer, so it would be easier for me. She told me that I would get better in time. But the thing is… in the past years, no matter how much I try, I can’t seem to get a hold of Artemis’ presence. It’s like she’s been retreating progressively from me. I have been noticing it like a growing emptiness, a solitude. And… I like being alone, I need it sometimes, but I don’t like being lonely . And the more I miss her presence, the more impatient I get... for your visits. Because I need to feel someone next to me, someone that can listen and reply to my thoughts, that can be trusted… and you always make me feel warm and good. And safe.”

Theseus smiled at that, starting to unconsciously rub soothing circles on Newt’s shoulder, who continued in a hushed voice:

“I believe... the fact that I know how you feel about me, makes me wonder. I mean, I’ve known for ages, you never hid it. But I am not that forward so I never told you but… I think about you too, sometimes. Not like I would always do before but… differently.”

Newt’s voice was cracking and wavering every few words and the tension in his body was probably why he hadn't noticed when Theseus stopped breathing.

“I- I wonder if you think about me when you- umm...pleasure yourself.” He cleared his throat and Theseus’ fingers twitched “I don’t mean to, but I keep dwelling accidentally on things like that and it worries me because… well, it distracts me a whole lot from my duties. And I made a vote! But then, in a moment of stupidity, I realized that no guide specifies what ‘chastity’ actually means, how much it implies. There is a huge gap between a few touches and full-on, well, sex. I couldn't stop thinking time and time again that if there was a silver lining, well…”

Newt shifted around and rose to sit back up, hugging his own knees. He looked miserable and Theseus felt a powerful, instinctual need to comfort him. But he was too shocked to actually act on his protectiveness, or to even move. The light of the lamp kept dancing over Newt’s flushed face and swollen lips, red and wet from biting on them, as they opened and closed with his deep breaths, silenced by the waves breaking over the ships’ sides in the night.

As Theseus found the determination to stretch out his hand, he only managed to reach the hem of Newt’s tunic, where it pooled around his hips. The skin of his thigh felt warm and tender to Theseus’ fingers and Newt gasped when he felt the touch, but didn’t pull away, eyelids fluttering shut.

“Go on,” Theseus whispered, one hand traveling up excruciatingly slow until it came to rest over one of Newt’s finely trembling ones.

“So I thought I could ask someone that knows more than me.”

“The priestess?”

“Yes. You see now why I didn’t want you to come along?”

Theseus nodded, and Newt continued. “I heard of her fame and the special relationship she has with Artemis. She is considered the best among us now. So I thought she could advise me. I guess I didn’t see it as asking her how to cheat out of my duty and our faith. It’s always been a matter of feelings for me, of love.”

His eyes darted briefly to Theseus’ face but immediately returned to stare into a dark corner. As if that word wore an instinctual association to the man beside him, and he couldn’t help but search for him when he was opening up his heart.

“But she was furious. She said that’s why men shouldn’t be priests of Artemis, that we are weak to the temptations of the flesh. She said-” He swallowed hard “that followers like me are the reason why the gods are retreating. Why Artemis is no longer reaching out to us as she used to. That it’s not a matter of body but of the soul, and that just by dreaming of being with you and doing these filthy things I had already failed on my vote.”

“She is an imbecile!” Theseus grunted out, gritting his teeth afterward and sitting up to wind his arms around Newt’s shoulders, his warm flesh feeling like a treasure under his fingers.

Newt let out a wet chuckle. “That’s what one of her disciples told me when she found me shocked after I’ve been thrown out. She reassured me that the old hag was mental and that having doubts was normal, man or woman. And that… as long as I did not give myself out completely, like a maiden would, and Artemis did not have to see it, I was allowed to indulge in love at least once. What kind of life would it be otherwise?”

“Who do you believe is right?” Theseus asked.

Newt shook his head “The priestess should be. She is more experienced and wise. However, there’s one thing that the girl is right in: the Gods are not all-seeing. They have their own methods of knowing but even they can be blind to what’s happening down here.”

“Artemis sees everything under the moon.” Theseus was afraid his heart would leap out of his chest as the realization started to sink in. Newt raised his eyes and their gazes locked in, piercing but gentle in their hesitancy.

“And tonight, there is no moon.”

Chapter Text

“Are you sure?” Theseus breathed out. His heart was pounding like it was trying to escape his chest. He had been dreaming of this moment for years, yet he had the duty to ask, to make sure that Newt was not rushing into something he didn’t really feel confident in or didn’t want more than for the sake of curiosity. “It doesn’t have to be right now, and…” as much as it hurt to say this “it doesn’t have to be me.”

But Newt just snorted, looking up at him with a smile full of affection and nerves “You are the only reason I am putting everything I ever knew in jeopardy. You, and nobody else.” He turned in Theseus’ embrace, spreading his thighs and climbing over until he was sitting on the elder man’s lap. This close, even in the feeble orange light of the oil lamp, Theseus could see every freckle on his cheeks and every contradicting spark of fear, determination, and desire in his eyes. “And… I don’t think I can wait any longer. Or after all these years, I’ll lose my mind.”

“What do you want me to do to you?” Theseus whispered in a hoarse, low voice, hands coming up to hold Newt’s waist, whose breath hitched, clear eyes clouding over.

“Just touch me for now, touch me and kiss me, and let me touch you, every inch of your skin.”

Theseus nodded and closed his right arm around Newt’s body, raising him up and rolling them over, so he would be hovering over him, hoisting himself on his free elbow. Newt closed his eyes and lifted his chin, lips parting slightly in a silent invitation. Theseus focused on them, leaning in slowly, as if he could spook Newt by not giving him enough warning. But truth be told, it was he who felt like this was a point of no return. Newt’s humid breath caressed his lips, their noses bumping slightly. Where their chests had come together their hearts beat in a rapid tandem, as if trying to escape out of the prison cage of ribs and melt into one. And how hard it was to kiss a person that meant so much, that meant everything? Not just a chaste peck but a real kiss, for the first time meant as a declaration of eros and a precedent to so much more. Their lips were a hair strand away, barely brushing, and Newt’s eyelashes fluttered like feathers against Theseus’ cheekbones.  The fine tremble of his skin a friend to his shaky respiration.

A single breath in, a step of courage and a fraction of eternity later their lips finally met, unsure and timid, but burning with shared desire.

Newt’s lack of experience was obvious, but Theseus didn’t mind one bit - it was all the sweeter because he knew it was his first. He took the role of a shepherd, guiding gently their kiss with his own movements, soft and languid like a dreamy dance, taking his time to feel out the give and curve of those full lips, tracing their shape with the tip of his tongue, oh so gently, scraping his teeth over them and catching the flutter of Newt’s breath in his own. He tasted the sea salt and the immense trust he was putting in him.  

Newt’s fingers twitched against his sides, chest rising as he inspired deeply and parted his mouth a sliver wider, waiting to be taken. And how could Theseus ever refuse him what they both wanted so badly? He breathed in Newt’s shaky expire, tongue carefully running over the underside of his upper lip, and then pressing further, sealing their lips together and sliding his tongue in a slow caress against Newt's, who responded in earnest, a tiny noise of pleasure emphasizing the way he opened up completely, giving himself over and taking his fair share, their tongues sliding and dancing against each other.

They broke apart and barely a couple of breaths in it was Newt who restarted it, pulling Theseus close by a hand in his hair. After the sacred hesitation of the first kiss was over it felt like a dam had broken, suddenly all the years of yearning, desire and unconditional love crashing over and overflowing into a shared pool of passion. It was raw and hot, Newt’s clumsiness an endearing match to his eagerness, as he panted on Theseus’ lips and sucked each one in turn, teeth scraping over and soothing with his wet tongue.

Theseus groaned from pure want and lowered is body, chest to chest and hip to hip. A hot line of contact, their shapes molding onto each other. Theseus could feel Newt’s lust rising between the folds of his tunic, a hardening mount rubbing against his own.

Newt felt it too and threw his head back, a broken moan accompanying the sharp thrust of his hips.

“Shhh… shh… it's okay, love. We have time.” Theseus inspired deeply and closed his eyes, counting down from ten. He was burning, but also wanted this to last. Newt's first, and maybe only time needed to be special, just as precious as he is, and Theseus wanted to get to know every curve and dip of his body, to see him lose his mind and call his name until nothing else mattered.

He sat up and started to undress, Newt’s hooded eyes following his every movement. With his tunic out of the way, he got rid of his sandals, just so they wouldn’t bother him laughed when Newt gave his thigh a light kick.

“Come back here”

“Aren’t you a bit too eager for a virgin?” Theseus caught the offending foot and gave it a light squeeze. Newt giggled

“That tickles!”

“Oh, does it?” He held onto the back of Newt’s foot and raised it, at the same time bending down to kiss the bridge, where the pale lines from the straps of his sandals crossed over his tanner skin. A shiver ran under his lips and Newt’s breath hitched, toes curling inwards. Smiling to himself, Theseus kissed the delicate inner side of his foot. He found the other with his free hand and gave it a squeeze, like a lazy massage, more meant to reassure his touch than to relax. Leading with the graze of his nose he kissed his way up Newt’s shin to his knee, teasing with his teeth the salty skin. He liked the way Newt’s body reacted to his mouth, unbeknownst to its owner, the clench of his muscles under his tongue and the goosebumps that rose every time he sucked on and bit harder than the usual.

Newt had very beautiful, long legs; youthful and strong calves, round knees and shapely upper thighs, deceptively soft and a bit pudgy on the inside part, as Theseus found out when his fingers sank into the velvety tenderness. Newt’s whole body shook and he mewled something between a moan and a whine when Theseus bit into that extremely sensitive part, his legs starting to shake. Theseus kept rubbing his stubbled cheek against that smooth softness, tongue and teeth teasing and tasting one thigh as his hand instinctively knead the other. Newt moaned again when Theseus sucked out a generous hickey, hips rolling around his head, Theseus’ hair catching against the tunic pooling over and around Newt’s arousal.

Theseus himself was achingly hard, but he didn’t even have a single sliver of thought left for himself. No, his whole attention was focused on Newt, on the occasion of being to intimate with him and explore every part of his body, make him feel like never before. He nuzzled against the folds of fabric, making his way under to bury his face in Newt’s crotch, inspiring deeply the musky scent of him.

“Th- Thes!” Newt pleaded, a shaky hand coming up to grasp the hair of the back of his head. “I’m…”

“Shhh… It's okay, my love.” Theseus nuzzled the underside of his balls, fully aware of the effect his stubble and beard were having on the extremely tender skin of Newt’s inner-upper thighs, virgin to another person’s touch and carefully hidden from the world. He positioned himself, so Newt’s trembling legs remained thrown over his shoulders and he could use his hands to part away the layers and folds of fabric, exposing his lover’s groin and soft underbelly to him.

Newt was really hard and wet, his adorably freckled penis glistering and dripping with pre-cum, balls drawn tight. Theseus smiled to himself, heart swelling, knowing that he did that by barely touching Newt. He’d gotten into his head long ago that he was the one who had to teach Newt the pleasures of body and soul, imagining how sweet it would be when their closeness and familiarity transcended into a physical level. The fact that he got to fulfill that “duty” so many years after almost, almost losing hope of it ever happening, filled him with unspeakable, overwhelming emotion.

“Thes…!” Newt called out his name in a hoarse whisper, his hand tightening almost painfully in Theseus hair, which made his neglected dick pulsate enthusiastically. But he focused on Newt’s instead, tracing his perineum and balls with a long swipe of his tongue.

“It’s fine, sweetheart, just let go whenever you want.” He reassured and took Newt’s dick in hand, tenderly running his thumbs over a swollen vein. He peppered his way up it, licking and kissing every freckle, delighting in the squirming and rolling of Newt’s hips under him, the way his belly clenched and the desperate sounds he made (“ Please, please… aaah! Oh Thes! I can’t- a-ah! aaah! Oh my- please don’t stop… please higher… more! AAH! Nnnggg... ”).

Theseus circled the crown with the tip of his tongue and kissed the leaky tip, before taking it into his mouth, sucking lightly, one hand coping to cup tightly Newt’s balls, massaging them at the rhythm of his head bobbing up and down. Newt’s entire body went stiff, drawn like a bow as he threw his head back with a high pitched moan, the hand in Theseus’ hair so tight it hurt way too good. His hips jolted, spasming with pleasure as he came into Theseus’ mouth.

Come never tasted good, but it had come out of Newt, which made it the best thing Theseus had ever tasted. He swallowed greedily and licked his lips coming up. Newt sunk into the bed, relaxing into the sheets but still shaky and breathing quickly. He looked a beautiful wreck, eyes shining and lips bitten to a cherry red shade, chest rising with deep breaths. Their gazes crossed and Theseus smiled. He intended it to be sweet but the arousal of his own body probably made it look predatory because Newt’s eyes widened and the blush crept back upon his cheeks.

Theseus laughed “Come up here, love. I’m not done with you yet.”

Newt obeyed like a good eromenos would do, disentangling his shaky limbs and sitting on his clutches to hold onto Theseus’ shoulders. He let himself be pulled into a deep kiss, breaking it to allow Theseus to finally pull his tunic over his head, leaving his lovely body fully naked. Theseus pulled him into his embrace again, arms around his waist and mouth sucking on the joint between his neck and collarbone. Newt hummed in appreciation, his arms roaming over Theseus’ naked shoulders and back, greedily kneading his muscles and leaving a hot set of trails with his nails on the skin.

He threw his head back, panting heavily when Theseus moved up to bite at that sensitive pulse point on his neck, hips coming in contact with the erection his lover was still spotting and jerking as if startled. He broke their hug to look down, eyes widening at the sight of the dark, strained dick, glistening with precum and sweat. His own twitched at the sight and he licked his lips, shooting Theseus a questioning look. But his own eyes were hooded with pleasure and desire. Newt shuffled on his elbows and knees, one hand keeping him upright and another coming to pump the hot length, learning its shape and tracing the swollen vein running from the base all the way to the slit. Theseus groaned, long and low, and rolled his hips, the tip of his cock releasing a bead of precum.

Newt leaned down and gathered it on his tongue, taking the head in his mouth and sucking just as Theseus had done for him earlier, coming up with an obscene pop.

“I wish to have you inside of me.” He whispered and Theseus didn’t know if Newt was talking to him or just the part of his body now hoarding all the attention, finally. In any case, it made him laugh, nevermind that he was well aware, even in his lust-filled state, that they couldn’t do that. “As long as you don’t give yourself over like a maiden ” had said the apprentice.

He pulled Newt up by the shoulder, trapping his mouth in a passionate kiss, fumbling with his hand for Newt’s semi-hard again cock, giving it a series of gentle pumps, swallowing his beloved’s moans and pants. “I have another idea” He whispered, breaking the kiss. “It’s not the same but I promise you are going to like it.”

“I want to make you come for me.” Newt bit on his lower lip. Theseus almost melted.

“Keep talking like that and touching me and I won’t be able to hold it together anymore. But I really want to do this. Do you trust me?”

Now that made Newt laugh, He actually guffawed, throwing his head back “What kind of question is that at this point in our lives?”

Theseus smiled, endlessly endeared, and leaned back in for another, albeit short, kiss. “Lie on your back. I will be right here in a second.”

Newt obeyed and Theseus stepped off the bed to rummage through the small cabinet, coming up with the tiny amphorae of the first press olive oil that he used for his skin. He popped up the cork and poured a generous amount over his hand.

Turning to the bed he caught Newt shamelessly staring at his backside and touching himself. Theseus kissed him and laid on the bed alongside him on his side.

“Now turn your hips a bit, yes that’s it, with your butt against me, damn I wish I could fuck it too, but it’s alright, no remain on our back, I want to see you. Are you comfortable?”

“It’s like the horseback bow drawing position.” Newt answered, “What are you-?”

Theseus kissed him, all the while fumbling with his dick, coating it in oil, and ran the rest of the oil on his hand over Newt's inner thighs.

“Oh” Newt breathed out, breaking the kiss “okay”

“Yeah,” Theseus gave him another peck and got a hold of his groin, “close your legs, yeah, just like that… oh damn…” He pushed into the soft, hot slide between Newt’s thighs, along the cleft of his ass and through the tunnel of tender flesh, the head popping out to drag forward Newt’s balls. “Yeh, this is good.” He took Newt’s cock in hand and played with it, pumping it to the rhythm of his thrusts. It was hot and messy, sloppy and shaky and absolutely perfect. His mouth on Newt’s neck, sucking and biting, and Newt’s hand in his hair, pulling at it just right.

At some point his movements became more erratic, as he was unable anymore to hold back his orgasm. Newt locked his ankles together and rolled his ass back, moaning openly when Theseus’ pumps on his cock became more aggressive as well.

A second before toppling over the edge Theseus managed to raise his head and look Newt in the eyes, his pleasure overtaking him and spilling its hot seed on the underside of Newt’s balls. Something about the sensation must have been too much for Newt as well, because he came barely a minute later, panting into Theseus’ mouth.

They lay like this for a good while, recovering their breathing. Theseus dick went soft but it remained well nestled between Newt’s legs, who turned on his side so Theseus could spoon him and kiss his nape and shoulders, their hands locked together over Newt’s stomach. After a while, however, he squirmed, making a face.

“What’s wrong?” Theseus mumbled sleepily into his hair.

“Nothing… but my thighs feel tender. I think it was your beard earlier.”

Theseus grinned “They are officially my favorite part of you now… after your face, of course,” He corrected himself when Newt turned to give him an incredulous look over the shoulder.

They stared at each other for a few seconds and then broke off laughing. Locked in a loving embrace and post-coital bliss as the gentle rocking of the ship lulled them into a deep sleep.

Chapter Text

Nothing in the world could top the feeling of being completely and absolutely, mindlessly, stupidly in love. It was a good thing Theseus didn’t actually need to do anything important on the ship because the next day he was basically as useful as a barrel of seawater. At least, he wasn’t alone, because the same could be applied to Newt.

If the Mooncalf’s crew noticed something, and it’s doubtless they did, they opted to humor the pair, who thought they were being sneaky by staying two feet apart from each other at all times. However, the coveted smiles, heated glances and that “just got laid” glow that surrounded them left no room for speculation. If anything, somebody might have thrown a confused question at the air that they thought these two had been fucking all along, so what was the deal all of a sudden?

Who wasn’t amused by the “royal couple” was Percival, that had no time for gossip. He kept checking his navigational equipment, using a random jar of watered wine to keep the unrolled leather maps from flying away and frowning at the horizon, where a cluster of dark clouds tainted the sky.

The day had awoken even worse than the previous, but instead of clearing up in the afternoon the weather was getting worse. The hot southern wind still blew, but with a humid heaviness that foretold a summer storm.

“I don’t like that.” Percival turned to see Theseus, Newt on his tail. Apparently even the honeymooning pair had noticed the worsening conditions. Theseus too, was looking at the fast approaching dark cloud.

“Roll up the mainsail and secure the deck!” Percival yelled at his men. The last thing they needed was to lose balance.

The preparations for the storm were as chaotic as expected. Everything that wasn’t nailed to the deck or tied with a secure rope was brought downstairs, the masts turned into a balancing position and the rems collected. But by the time the rain started to fall over them almost all the men had taken their position as good sailors should, holding onto ropes or hatches. The ship creaked and bounced unsteadily over increasingly furious water, high waves hitting the sides and overflowing into the deck.

“Go downstairs!!” Percival shouted over the wind, gesturing wildly at Theseus and Newt, that had stayed to help secure a load. The ship jumped over a wave, landing violently, and a part of the railing broke, cracking and shooting splinters everywhere. Percival couldn't reign in the helm and look after their charges at the same time, and Theseus knew that. He gestured to Newt, pointing to the trap that led underdeck. They had to run a short distance, but it was not far. A bolt of lightning broke the darkness that had enveloped them and the sound of thunder swallowed Theseus’ voice while he was gesturing to Newt to go first, who in turn whistled for Fido to stay close. They nodded to each other and Newt darted through the deck. He was at the trap door when Theseus saw what was coming. The yelled but it was in vain. The door was shut tight and Newt’s hands, wet and numb from cold, could not open the hatch. Theseus darted forward, the giant wave crashed over the side and Newt felt his feet leave the floor. He crashed violently against the mast. Instinctively, he tried to hold onto it, but the retreating wave’s force pulled him with it and he barely managed to grab a piece of broken railing before a hand enclosed his wrist. Theseus tried to pull him in but then another wind whirl hit the sails. With a deafening tear, one broke and the entire ship shook like something had snapped within its very core. The force of the jerk threw Theseus overboard and Newt with him, both hitting the water hard, Newt head-first, losing conscience before he could reign himself in.

“Newt!!! Newt!!!” Theseus yelled, tearing his throat out. Another lightning lit up the sky and he turned in the raging sea, unable to see Newt anywhere. A giant wave was upon him and he took in air, diving underwater. Lightning set the frigid darkness in stark contrast and he managed to lock his sight on a white shape, tossed around by the currents like a rag doll.

With all his strength, all his will and imploring all the gods and powers there be, he used the last of his air to push himself to it. But it was all he had, managing to close his fingers over a handful of fabric and releasing the bubbles from his mouth.

The feeling of his own heart in his throat, a sharp needle in the chest, a radiant spark of reddish gold… and then, a piercing pain tore through his forearm, and he was being pulled up by it following the streak of his own blood. With a loud cough, he broke the surface, tugging Newt up as well.

Fido didn’t release his arm and Theseus was grateful. The pain of where his teeth had broken the skin allowed him to focus enough to see that the dog was trying to take them to a floating piece of railing. Theseus gathered his remaining strength and jerked his legs at the same time the water pushed the piece of wood towards them. He grabbed it and secured Newt’s head on it, making sure he had him tight, trying to squeeze his waist rhythmically with his muscles as if that would do anything. Fido bit onto the other end of the railing piece, holding on as well.

They almost overturned from another wave and Theseus screamed for help. Newt jerked, coughing out water, and opened his eyes. He seemed disoriented for a fraction of a second but then caught up and grabbed the wood himself, allowing Theseus to use his other hand. They looked frantically around, spluttering water and shouting. But the lightning bolts showed them nothing but a stormy sea with no ship in sight.

Only the gods know for how long they held on, feet going numb and arms so tired they were only locked around the wood by the force of instinct. The rain started to waver and the sea to calm down, throwing them around less and less. Or maybe it was just the loss of sensation in the legs. Theseus was doing especially badly, he was bleeding, although not as bad as it had looked at the beginning, barely two scratches, even if he could have sworn that Fido almost tore his forearm off.

Finally, the feeble silver light between the waves, tinted yellow at the edge, seemed to act like a calming balm on the sea and gave them energy. It was sunrise, their strongest time by right of birth. Theseus locked his eyes on that light and, for the first time in years, prayed to their Mother. She couldn’t just let them die, not like this! He closed his eyes, focusing on the prayer and distantly heard Newt’s voice calling out his name. But he didn’t feel cold anymore, nor worried. Just so tired and weak. His arms and fingers, that had been locked in from shock, started to relax. An arm closed around his waist and, even if he wanted to, it was so difficult to open his eyes. It’s like his head was full of cotton. But he did realize when Newt’s voice shifted from desperate fear laced into his name to shouting into another direction, a tinge of hope in it. A few seconds and an eternity later he felt something hit his head painfully. That returned him to reality just barely. He saw a knotted, thick rope in front of him and held onto it as Newt was finishing tying it around his middle. Theseus tilted his face and instead of the open sky saw the shadow of a ship and beaten sails over him. Soon, they were pulled up, half a dozen arms helping them over the railing and down on the deck.

Theseus raised his head to look at the crew but was immediately overcome by a fit of coughing that left him heaving for air, and only when he felt Newt lie by his side he allowed the darkness to take over.

His last thought, before losing conscience, was that that ship was not the Mooncalf.

Chapter Text

A bucket of saltwater over the head was what woke Theseus up. He spluttered and, grimacing from pain in body parts he didn’t know he even had, looked around.

The man that had given him the unwelcome bath was walking away, shouting something among the busy crew of a stranger ship. A sole glance was enough to realize those were no Achaean merchants. If the clothing of furs, unsmoked leathers and rags, unkempt hair and beards or the strange language were not enough of a giveaway, then the fact that they had tied their rescuees to a pole, certainly was a reason to worry.  

Theseus tried the rope wound tight against his middle and on his left answered a pained groan. Newt tilted his head, squinting at him at first but then looking positively relieved. He looked horrible - exhausted, sunburnt, scratched and bruised all over, but alive. Theseus felt the same sense of relief that must have overpowered his love, and tried for a reassuring smile.

“How cute.”

They both looked up. A man of prominent stature draped in a bullskin and assorted pieces of armory was walking towards them. He stopped in front of Theseus, examining his face from up close.

“A noble, are ya? I know ‘em pampered Achaeans when I see ‘em. Well fed and trained, soft skin. Somebody mighta pay a fortune for yo’ head back.” He grinned an almost toothless grin, appraising Theseus’ body up and down. “Coulda make us some good money even before that.” He straightened up with a huff and walked around. Kicking something soft. Theseus heard a muffled whine. “Keep the beast alive. If it's trained to hunt will sell well. Now that…” He paused on the other side of Theseus, right in front of Newt. “Now that is a winning catch-a.” His filthy hand stretched out to tug at one of Newt's curls, then he grabbed his jaw, dirty fingers turning Newt's face from side to side and upwards.

“Pretty face, young, soft body… and what’s tha'? A band of Artemis? A virgin then! Boys, we struck a winnin' pot! I already know who gonna pay a fortune for this sissy!” The captain guffawed and some of the crewmen returned cheers of their own. Newt's face was burning with embarrassment and ire. “Maybe I can have some fun with ‘im before that, won’t leave the marks to lower his price.”

Don't do anything stupid! Theseus thought.

Too late. As the man dragged his thumb unceremoniously over Newt’s lips, Newt opened his mouth and bit down hard. Theseus could have sworn he heard a crack. The captain howled, tearing away his bleeding hand and jumping back. He recovered quickly though, using his other hand to slap Newt across the face and kicked him in the thigh right after. Newt grit his teeth and hissed, but held in any other noises. Theseus was struggling at this point. If that bastard hit Newt again… But the rope was holding him tight.

“Filthy scum… If I didn’t need ya alive-” Another kick, and that time Newt let out a tiny whine of pain. The captain brought his bleeding, unresponsive finger up to suck on it, and then spat down on Newt’s head, swearing some more and hurrying off the bridge, presumably to get it looked at.

“Are you alright?” Theseus whispered as soon as he was out of earshot. He got a dry sob as an answer. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“Now he knows what’s gonna happen if his dick gets anywhere near me.”

Well, Theseus could not argue with that.

It was hard to keep oneself conscient due to the sheer exhaustion and thirst. Theseus repeatedly asked for water but the crew either ignored or laughed at him. Luckily, the bad weather from the previous day carried on partly into the evening, the rain starting to fall in abundance even if the wind didn’t pick up this time. Theseus tilted his head up and opened his mouth, collecting the rainwater in there and gulping it down. It felt like a balm to his mangled insides. He nudged Newt with his foot, distracting him from his prayers to do the same.

At least they managed to satiate their thirst and the downpour cleaned and soothed their skin. However, another problem came with the rain: the cold, seeping in and taking root deep inside, made worse by the immobility. Theseus could hear Newt’s teeth clattering and bit on his own lips. Whoever tied them up did a good job, the wood on his back and the pressure around his chest and middle was unyielding. Even as he tried to wriggle it was obvious that the job would be futile.

Who knows how long have they been sitting there. It stopped raining and the wind picked up, a gelid breeze that caught on their wet clothes while the light died out, slowly disappearing from the gray sky.

Well past nightfall four crewmen came for them. Even if Newt and Theseus hadn't been outnumbered, with several limbs asleep, it would have been impossible to fight. The men untied them and dragged them underdeck, Theseus by the arm and Newt by his hair, ignoring his complaints and swearing.

Theseus also swore, when he was thrown unceremoniously into a cell, Newt following suit. Two men were needed to carry Fido, who was tied by all paws like a hog and around his muzzle. The poor thing looked miserable.

“And stay there.” One of the crewmen grunted, giving Newt’s side a brutal kick before walking out and closing the gate. “You are lucky you are a gold mine, ginger. The captain is not happy with you at all.”

“Are you hurt?” Theseus whispered once the men were out of earshot. The cell was pitch dark and smelled foul, probably dozens of captured men and women or animals had spent a night there before.

Newt sighed, stiffening a sob, and nodded.

Fighting against the pins and needles, Theseus crawled to him and leaned in close, reaching out to caress his hair. Newt had received beatings on his face, thighs and now ribs, but as soon as he got his breath back he tried to move.

“What-? Newt!”

But the priest ignored him, dragging himself to Fido he tried to untie him, starting by his muzzle. The rope was harsh and strong, but he insisted nonetheless, breaking two nails and sustaining several scratches in the process. Finally, and despite Fido’s jerking and whining, he managed to get off the muzzle, but when he started on the front paws, Theseus gently covered his hands, stopping him from doing any more damage to himself.

“Please, please love. Calm down.” Newt hadn’t even realized that he’s been sobbing uncontrollably, breathing fast and irregular, chest aching and heavy as if a ton of rocks was preventing him from taking any more air in, vision blurry and everything spinning, closing in…

He found a constant of something vibrant and warm to hold onto, something to follow and instinctively focused on it, on that feeling that turned out to be a faint sound, a lodestar. He tried to reach, to grab it and to clasp into his own hands, to become a part of it. The heaviness lifted off barely, slowly retreating as he accompased his breathing to the beat of Theseus’ heart, damaged fingers clasping at his big brother’s soaked tunic. 

Theseus didn’t know what to do. He was afraid of touching the shaking man against his chest, lest he hurt him any further by pressing on a sore spot. Now that his eyes had gotten used to the darkness he could make out the ugly bruises on his body. Finally, he opted for stroking his back until he thought Newt had calmed down enough. Now he was only shaking from the cold.

“I’m going to undress us, alright?” He whispered in his hair. “We will get sick if we keep wearing these.”

Newt Nodded, let Theseus undo his belt and lifted his arms to let him pull the cloth over his head. Theseus twisted it letting Fido lap at the water until he could no longer get any. Then repeated the procedure with his own clothing. He examined by touch the ropes that Newt tried to undo before and determined that there was no way to get rid of them with no light. In any case, the dog seemed comfortable on his side, emanating a pleasant warmth.

The three of them curled together, Net’s face in the crook of Theseus’ neck, and didn’t talk for what felt like hours.

“She knows,” Newt whispered when Theseus was almost asleep.

“Hm?”

“Artemis knows. This must have been her doing, her revenge. She is probably so angry at me…”

Theseus frowned into the darkness. “At sea? Does she have power here?”

“She could have asked Poseidon, or the keeper of winds, to do this.”

Theseus hummed, stroking Newt’s unhurt side “Don’t take it wrong, darling, but that’s quite far-fetched. What are the chances the Lady that had been retreating from her followers for a decade suddenly took so much offense in something that she couldn’t have known?”

“But-”

“Listen, love, storms happen. Often. Especially when the southern wind is blowing. And the waters have been filling up with pirates for the past few years like a plague. From every damn place. They are attacking coastal towns, assaulting ships… Why did you think we kept a catapult on board of the Mooncalf? I think we are rather fortunate to be alive, to be honest.”

Newt got ready to protest but seemed to think better about it and expired wearily. “So these people really are pirates?”

“Yeah, north-Thracian mostly, I know by the dialect. At least the captain is.”

“What are we going to do?”

Theseus considered it for a while. “Here, we can’t do anything except sit quietly and hope to get fed. They seem to be planning to sell you into slavery and ask a ransom for me. And while I have no doubt my Father would pay for you too a considerable amount, he knows I will never forgive him otherwise, I’m afraid they’ll want the immediate money from a direct sale.”

“Maybe if I get them to beat me up more…” Newt snorted.

“Yeah no, you are still very pretty and some sick bastards are actually into that. No, sit quiet and try not to bite off any more fingers. We will need the strength if we are going to try to escape once we reach the shore.”

“You think we can?”

“Well, we either try or the alternative is way worse.”  He yawned, exhausted.

“For me, not for you. Thes-”

“Don’t.” Theseus warned him, squeezing his shoulder. “Don’t you dare to insult me by suggesting that I could ever leave you. Let’s- let’s just try to sleep. We will figure out the rest after dawn.”

Newt obviously still wanted to argue but knew it would be fruitless. It’s not like he hadn't always known that Theseus loved him dearly, but being proven these past days, time and time again, just how much… it made him way too emotional.

“Okay” He finally mumbled. But Theseus’ breathing had already taken on the even rhythm of sleep.  

His own slumber avoided Newt, however. Between his empty stomach, the pain of the mangled parts of his body and all the dark thoughts rushing through his head, he felt like he was close to another panic attack, and only Theseus’ steady heartbeat kept him grounded.

It's going to be fine , he thought. As long as they had each other they would overcome anything. Right?

Mother, wherever you are. Please, remember your children and help us out of this one. We really need you now.

At some point, he must have managed to nod off, because a streaming sound and the absence of comfortable heat next to him woke him up.

“What’r’you doin’? He asked Theseus, squinting at his back framed by the cell bars.

“Aiming for the ladder. Revenge.”

Newt snorted and waited for him to come back before wrapping himself around Theseus like an octopus and falling back asleep.

The next day and night passed in a fog. They were all hungry but were only given some water to drink by a crewman that interrogated Theseus on his lineage. He told the truth and insisted that Newt would be very well paid for as well. However, once they were left alone it was for good. Despite trying to distract themselves by making escape plans there was no way for them to actually predict anything before knowing where and how they were going to be taken.

“What if they try to separate us?” Newt proposed, biting on his lips.

“Well, that’s when we fight.” Theseus tried to reassure him.

“Spoken like a true hero.” Newt snorted, shaking his head. Theseus shrugged, crossing his arms.

“This is not quite the adventure I was hoping for when I was planning this journey.”

Now that amused the priest and he tilted his head with a benevolent smile. “And what were you hoping for exactly? Remember all these stories of heroes and their quests. How many of them have a happy ending? Even Theseus, your great-grandfather fell in disgrace and was a pariah in Athens for decades, until his good name was restored. Heracles is a tragedy of mistakes and redemption that end in an excruciating death. Bellerophon succumbed to his hubris and fell hard. The argonaut Jason tho, his fate was probably worse than any other.”

"Perseus got a hot wife, founded a kingdom and lived happily ever after."

"Perseus was lucky and smart, he knew when to stop adventuring and stay put."

“Well, falling overboard was not exactly in my plans either.”

He said it as if it had been his fault, when he had actually been the hero in that instance, risking his own life to save his brother. Newt reminded him so and they curled around each other, silently making time until the status quo broke and they could do something, anything, anything at all that didn’t imply withering from inactivity. It was chafing for Theseus specifically, his mind racing a thousand thoughts at a time, unable to grab onto and focus on one, his body itching to move or fidget, to act.

At least their clothes were finally dry enough to wear again. And for Thereus it was a relief not to see at least a part of Newt’s bruises anymore.

Chapter Text

The next day fell on them being awoken by arms restraining them and tying their wrists together. They were led up to the deck and then into a boat, accompanied by several others.

The beach ahead was peppered with activity, barbarians running up and down, not unlike the harbor of Athens, minus the grandeur. All the way Theseus was trying to work on his ties, but they were tight. Once the boat hit the shore, the men dragged them up and towards a wooden cart, pulled by an old mule, holsting Newt up alongside some sacks of tinkers, several rolls of fabric and half a dozen anforas. Theseus was left standing nearby and painfully hit in the head with a club when he tried to climb in with Newt. He took a knee, dizzy and nauseous from the blow, but was dragged up by the collar, obligated to stand up next to a guard pointing at his ribs with a knife. a few minutes later Fido was thrown in unceremoniously by four men, his muzzle secured again.

“Hey, don’t treat him like that!” Newt complained, kicking one of the anforas hard. It topped over and shattered against the cart floor, spilling oil everywhere.

“Fucking brat!” One of the men yelled, climbing in and kicking Newt to the floor. He then raised him by the hair and shook him. “Stay down and don’t break anything else or you’ll regret it. Heard?”

Newt, that had a cut on his cheekbone, probably from one of the ceramic shards, nodded pitifully. He exchanged a watery glance with Theseus once the man had left (after cleaning all the spilled oil and shards, mumbling under his breath) as if they were trying to reassure each other, then closed his eyes and started to pray out loud, shoulders shaking with sobs as he leant against Fido’s stomach.

Unable to bear the scene, anxious and still disoriented, Theseus observed the situation around them; the shoreline had three ships anchored nearby and another in the distance, the beach peppered by several boats with buzzing crewmen exchanging salutations or arguing. Very obviously, all pirates. A series of men with carts or mules offered their services and scarcely clad women with dirty hair either tried to butter up or were already tugging the sailors towards the bushes and trees surrounding the shore, where they had their tents. Two paths, that Theseus could see, opened their way across that forest, just wide enough for a cart to go through. He had never been in a pirate harbor, but for some reason that’s just how he would have imagined it.

Some crewmen that he recognized dragged in a few sacks of grain and placed them in the cart, then came more anforas and rolls of fabric. Newt huffed and turned a bit to let them Set the goods where his legs had been before.

Looks like they raided a merchant ship before they found us . Theseus thought, trying not to imagine what happened to that crew. Obviously, none of them was probably important, pretty or strong enough, or they would have been made prisoners as well. Theseus just hoped they were released, but something told him that was too much to hope for.

Just as he was thinking that, a rider on a horse hurried past their cart and dismounted next to the sand, walking around and announcing his services. Theseus recognized him as a news carrier; men that went from place to place collecting fresh information and then offering it to interested clients for a price. So the barbarians had them as well, huh?

He followed the news carrier with his gaze and saw him approach their “rescue” ship’s captain, that was talking to a man of similar rank, if their clothing was anything to go by. After a short conversation Theseus saw the captain’s brow furrow and then he looked up and their eyes met. Without breaking the eye contact the captain threw the news carrier a coin and walked across the beach towards the cart.

“Ye’, prince boy!” He addressed Theseus “ How well do ya get along with yo’r brother?”

“Which one?” Theseus raised his eyebrows at the weird question.

“The oldest, the heir.”

“We are civil.” Theseus decided for the least revealing option. He liked Apheidas just fine, but there had always been a gap between him and his father’s legitimate sons.

The answer didn’t seem to satisfy the Captain, who brought up a hand with a bandaged thumb to stroke his beard, frowning. Finally he seemed to have reached a decision, sighed, and waved the hand in the direction of the cart.

“Throw ‘im in too.”

“We are not to take him to your house, sir?”

“Nah. Same way as the rest. But watch them well”

The guard that had been keeping Theseus obeyed and helped him to get inside. As weird as that change of heart was Theseus was just relieved about not being separated from Newt.

He was about to say so when the movement around them increased, the crew mounting mules and loading another cart.

“Let’s sit back to back.” Newt whispered against his skin.

“Why?” Theseus frowned.

Newt rubbed his cheek against his shoulder. To anyone else it would look like an affectionate gesture, but Theseus caught Newt’s intention to direct his eyes downwards. Theseus followed that line of sight discreetly until his eyes fell on the rope binding Fido’s front paws.

Oh.

It was torn and half broken, as if anyone had tried to cut it with an extremely dull knife. Not loose yet, but weakened and weedy.

Trying to suppress a laugh Theseus faked interest in the road ahead and shifted around to lean with his side against the front side of the cart, fingers twitching until he found Newt’s hands, closed around a shard of broken ceramic anfora. The little cunning genius had done it on purpose!

Trying to suppress his joy and overwhelming pride, Theseus pushed with his feet some rolls of fabric so they would hide their hands from the view of the sailors that just jumped into the cart alongside them, chatting in a different language.

All the commitive stated to move: the two carts full of goods and sailors, their drivers, The captain alongside them, and some of the crewmen mounting mules or old horses. The dirt road was full of bumps and raised roots, which made the ride extremely jumpy, jerky and uncomfortable. Not to mention Newt’s hands slipped constantly while trying to wear down Theseus’ ties. Luckily that also disguised his shoulder movement without having to pretend to cry.

Theseus grit his teeth against every accidental stab and cut, put on the best neutral face he could and worked in his mind all the possible escape scenarios at one time.

But seeing how outnumbered they were, even if they managed to get free, it would not be easy.

It was almost noon by the time the commitive exited the forest and a rocky plain extended to both sides of the road. A temporary fortification lay ahead, made up of dark wood and mossy stone, surrounding a myriad of tents and cottages making up a town populated by villagers, animals and dirt. Some folks stopped to stare and point at the carts, others saluted the crew or kept going their merry way. A couple of children ran after them, throwing stones inside until one of the sailors yelled at them to get lost. But most of the people, and outsiders, were cluttered at the center, where a big market had unraveled, full of goods, cattle and yes, slaves for sell. A series of Lords, obviously not of that cover-up town, walked around and listened to the advise of their agents.

“An illicit market” Theseus confirmed. “In Attica you can get skinned for participating in one of these.” Not that he expected the barbaric Thrace to abide by the same laws as his homeland.

They were dragged out of the cart and forced to stand by with a plaque hanging off their necks that appointed them for sale. Theseus’ ties were loose enough now to snap them if he wanted so, and he had had time to return the favor. However, they were still ridiculously outnumbered, even more so now that they were in that faux town. If they tried to make a run for it they would need a good distraction first. Discreetly, he kept an eye on the sword of the man grabbing his shoulder, making a note of its position.

A warlord came forth to talk to the captain and they clasped each other’s forearms, ginning with glee. While they were at it, something caught Theseus’ attention on the background. A woman’s eye. She was staring at him intently, an aged but still regal dame in the outfit of a priestess, accompanied by two guards. Their eyes locked and she walked forth, coming almost face to face with Theseus, even if neither of them spoke a word. Something in her was weirdly familiar, like a distant dream, or a faded memory that he didn’t have enough material to reconstruct.

“You have a good eye, m’lady!” The second-in-command of their ship broke the tension, slapping Theseus on the shoulder and almost making him topple over. “A prime young man of excellent health and strength! Very high ranked and educated in Attica! Perfect for both physical chores and script work. At the city’s slave market they would ask double for him!”

Theseus’ cheeks burned with humiliation at being talked about like a piece of meat, and the woman seemed annoyed by the interruption. She shook her head at the sailor. “Thank you, but I’m not looking for a new slave.”

That being said, and with one last furtive look at Theseus, she stepped aside, suddenly more interested in the rolls of fabric then in him. Theseus exchanged one puzzled look with Newt and shrugged his shoulders. The woman remained close but hid her face behind the veil at the arrival of another selling party, composed by three carts that stirred up the dust on the ground.

Meanwhile, The captain came forth with his friend and another well-dressed, fat bear of a man. Radiating good confidence and pride he stopped in front of Newt and pushed aside his fringe, grabbing the hair when Newt tried to wriggle aside, to keep him in place. The hold left exposed the band of Artemis, the only piece of jewelry that they’ve been permitted to keep.

“And because I know how ya like ‘em, my Lord Amerides, look at this cutie. Young, exotic and a virgin, if tis is to go by. These peeps of Artemis take their votes of chastity seriously. But be careful-” He advised when the giant grabbed with one dirty hand Newt’s jaw, forcing it to turn from one side to the other, as if examining it “-he bites. Then again, ya like this too, don’t ya?”

The two men laughed and Theseus grit his teeth. Newt was glaring daggers at the big one, who seemed to enjoy it rather than be deterred by the perceived hostility.

“I do like it when they struggle.” He agreed, grinning viciously. “But what about all the goods?” With that line he let go of Newt’s face and clutched the skirt of his tunic instead, pulling it upwards and using the other hand to grab at Newt’s crotch.

Everything happened in the lapse of a heartbeat.

Newt screamed and attempted to kick away the perverted pig, the captain shouted out and grabbed him by the neck, squeezing hard. Theseus saw red. He snapped the remaining ties binding him in a boost of feral rage and pushed away from the man keeping him still, using the momentum to grab his sword out of its holster and swing it at the pervert. A stream of blood hit him in the face from the severed carotid.

That moment a stillness overtook him. The bloodstream gushing like a fountain, his blade trapped midway into the man’s thick neck. He accidentally locked eyes with his victim and saw the soul leaving his eyes. Theseus knew he was supposed to feel guilty or horrified at the fact that he had just, for the first time ever, taken another person’s life. And maybe later he would. But right then the only thing he knew was that this person had tried to harm Newt, his sweet Newt. With a renewed ire he freed his sword just in time to block the captain’s. From the corner of his eye, he saw Newt, that had also freed himself, punch a sailor right to the jaw, but the entire crew and most of the market had realized what was going on and were going for their weapons.

Someone whistled and the clamor rose like wildfire. Theseus was locked in a stalemate but then Fido jumped from over his head and landed straight on the Captain’s head, toppling him over and sending him straight into two other crewmen. Theseus caught his sword and blocked with it another upcoming attack. He searched for Newt with his eyes and saw him grabbing an anfora of wine and swinging it at two sailors that were coming for him. But another was close behind. Theseus shouted for him to be careful and that moment of distraction was enough for his current enemy to twist away his sword and hit him hard in the side with his own blade. Hot, searing pain overtook Theseus and he fell on his knees, raising his head and realising he would have no time to defend himself before the next blow.

But then, a whirlwind of white overtook his field of vision and the priestess from before was in front of him, shielding him with her body and blocking the sword with her shaft, she swung it upwards and turned to impale the man with the pointed end. She then whistled again, sharp and loud, demanding, and that’s when Theseus noticed that the ground was trembling. He was bleeding copiously, one of the Priestess’ guards stood protectively over him and it was only then that he understood why they didn’t have the entire town attacking them: everybody was fighting everybody.

No, several dozen citizens had drawn weapons and were fighting patrons like seasoned warriors. And the tremors grew stronger as dozens of men on horseback, armed to the teeth, burst through the gates yelling battle cries. Theseus, holding onto his injured side, looked around frantically for Newt. He saw Fido sinking his teeth into somebody's butt, but no trace of red hair. Desperately, and feeling as if he was bleeding out by the second, Theseus dragged himself upwards and limped to the other side of the cart, that he used as support. And there! Newt was being restrained by two of their captors, kicking and wriggling in the powerful arms, almost getting away, but another man was running towards them, knife at the ready. Theseus could barely see the scene, dark spots dancing in front of his eyes, hands slick and knees about to give out, he summoned the last of his strength and launched himself forward, to intercept that blow and protect Newt.

The world went dark for him.

Chapter Text

Theseus remembered the sound of sobbing and a voice shouting commands. A flash of red hair here and there, white linen, searing, scorching pain, a pitiful whining. Darkness. Cold wetness, a strong herbal scent, the gentle voice of a stranger, a cry of distress. Darkness. Something licking his face, a cool breeze, overbearing heat, sweat, the taste of oil, a hand in his hair. Darkness. 

The next time he woke up he finally managed to articulate a thought: “It’s weird.” He didn’t know what it was about until he focused on the music coming from somewhere. Very carefully, he flexed his face muscles, reassuring himself that nothing hurt in that area, even though his shoulder and ribs were in agony. The light hurt his eyes, so it took him some time to open them and turn his neck. 

He was laying on a bed, in a small but very cozy and clean room, with white curtains gently swaying in front of a window and a bedside table covered in nursing materials; a bowl of water with a cloth, some oils and herbs, fresh bandages, a plate of mashed fruit… 

He heard a squeak, and Fido’s happy face filled his field of vision. Theseus was glad to see the dog, that nuzzled his neck and trotted out of the room with a happy bark. He returned sometime later followed by Newt. 

Relief flooded his entire body, soothing his pains almost physically. Newt looked unharmed. In fact, he looked so much better than the last time Theseus had seen him; the bruises and cuts on his body almost entirely faded, leaving only some yellow spots behind. He was clean and joyful, practically leaping to Theseus’ side, to prevent his attempts at rising. 

“Shhh… shhh… don’t move. It’s okay. Everything is fine. We are safe.”

He had tears shining in his eyes and Theseus wanted to kiss them away, but would be satisfied with managing to formulate a question. However, his throat was dry and the words died in it. Newt, very carefully, helped him to take a few sips of water. 

“Where are we?” He tried again, and it came out raspy but understandable. That water had felt like heaven on earth and he drank more of it. 

“Safe.” Newt repeated, and leaned in to kiss his forehead. Theseus closed his eyes, enjoying the affectionate gesture and suddenly feeling very, very tired. 

Over the next few days he woke up periodically and managed to keep himself awake for a longer period each time, feeling also better and more restored, the pain subsiding and giving way to curiosity. But answers were not forthcoming. Newt started to feed him soup and oil with bread when he was awake, and sometimes silent nurses would help him wash up, relieve himself and change his bandages. His more serious injuries were a deep cut on his side, a gift from that sailor that struck him, and another on the shoulder that he acquired when he threw himself on Newt’s defense. Be it out of love or out of duty, Newt took his nursing obligations very seriously, even yelled and threw a fig at Fido when the dog started licking Theseus’ uncovered wounds while Newt was occupied cutting the new bandages.

“You know, I would recover that much faster if you just told me where we are.” Theseus tried for the hundredth time to coerce a decent answer out of Newt. But before the priest could protest yet again that he needed rest and quiet, another voice interrupted him.

“I think I agree with your brother, my dearest Newt.” 

A stranger man stood in the door. He looked quite older than them but very handsome and strong, regal in his stance, elegant and with deep, wise eyes. Nevertheless, Theseus tensed and tried to sit up. Newt prevented it with a hand on his stomach and the stranger shook his head, smiling with benevolent grace. 

“Don’t overexert yourself, Prince of Attica, you are a guest in my house protected by the laws of Xenia.” 

“And you are…” 

The man chuckled, walking into the room. Only then Theseus noticed that another person was following him - the priestess woman from the market. “Of course, how rude of me. Let me introduce myself” The man put a hand on his chest and did a courteous nod “My name is Albus from the line of Dumbledore, king of the Free City of Abdera and lord of this castle that you’re welcomed in.”

 “Abdera?!” They were that far? Abdera… the only civilized city of Northern Thrace, a city founded by Heracles himself after the grievous loss of his young lover, Abderus, a boy mauled to death by cannibalistic horses. It had collected fame over the past decades as a fast-growing and developing fortress, gaining terrain from the barbarians of neighboring Ismarus, thanks to a series of gifted kings, devoted worshippers of Hermes and Athena, the protector siblings of Heracles that aided him in his labors. 

And then, Theseus suddenly remembered why that woman looked so familiar. 

“I know you.” He whispered, looking at her, past the king. “You were a guest at our house, many years ago.” 

“Indeed” Albus smiled, resting a hand on her shoulder “My dear sister Minerva, our high priestess of Athena, attended a festival in honor of the Goddess in Athens many years ago. Your father extended to us the courtesy of hosting her in his home. You are lucky she recognized in you the young boy that she was introduced to back then.”

“You’ve grown quite a lot, your highness,” She pointed out, with a thick and dry accent “but seem to have conserved your nag for getting into trouble.” 

“Now, now, dear sister.” Albus laughed, clapping his hand over Minerva’s stiff shoulder, “Don’t mind her. She is just resentful your intervention spoiled our plans to get our stolen cargo back. Even though it was her call to break out the plan before time to aid you. At least we managed to capture some of the pirates that have been raiding our ports in the first place.” 

“Thank you.” Theseus said honestly. He figured it was either extreme luck or the work of Gods that they happened upon friendly support in their troubles. “How long have I been asleep?” 

“Almost two weeks.” 

Theseus shot Newt an incredulous glance and winced at the pain reflected on his beloved face. 

Albus took a step forward and placed a hand on Newt’s back, bending way too close for Theseus’ liking, who frowned at the display of familiarity. 

“I think we need to leave you to discuss matters now. I came by to tell you that a missive arrived for you this morning.” 

“The answer?” 

Albus nodded, “Are you going to discuss it-?” Newt shook his head vigorously and Albus sighed, the upward quirk never leaving his lips. “I would advise not to delay it more than necessary, but it’s your call. Come to see me later and I will give you the packages.” 

“Thank you, your majesty.” Newt smiled at Albus and now Theseus was getting irky. 

Once the pair left he turned to Newt. “Okay, king or not but why is he so touchy with you? I don’t like that. And what was this all about? What are you hiding from me? The answer to what?” 

Newt’s face transitioned from an exasperated eye roll to a serious grimace, shadowed by guilt and sorrow “You’ve been out for commission for over a week. A lot of things happened. The healers advise to wait a couple of days and you will be fine. But for now, you need rest and peace.”

“I’m fine!” Theseus tried to protest and sit up to prove it.

“No, you are not!” Newt spat out sharply. His shoulders drove up and fists balled into the fabric of his tunic. “You lost way too much blood. By the time the healers got to you they were almost certain that you were dead. They said that had it not been for your divine line you would have been for sure! Fuck!” His voice broke on a sob, and Theseus suddenly felt incredibly guilty. “You were unconscious for four days and feverish for another two, light and night, mumbled stuff that made no sense, vomited everything we gave you…” Theseus covered his fist with one of his hands and Newt pierced him with a watery glare “Never do that again. Never- never again take a sword intended for me. Or I will cross the underworld itself, bring you back to life and kill you again!” 

“I can’t really help it.” Theseus tried to be as gentle as he could “It’s my instinct to protect you.”

“I can take a blow!” Newt hissed through gritted teeth “I cannot take losing you! So think about that the next time you follow your instincts like an animal.”

Theseus wanted to protest further, but Newt was tearing up and had their roles been reversed he knew he would have been worse for wear and would not want to hear any excuses either.  

“Okay,” he conceded then, feeling suddenly very exhausted, both physically and emotionally. Newt’s shaking hand brushed over his hair and Theseus reached for it, bringing it to his lips. “I want you to tell me what happened while I’ve been asleep.” 

“Maybe later. If you feel good enough. Now rest. The herbs that the healers are using to scar and numb the pain are supposed to make you drowsy. I don’t want to discuss serious matters like this.” 

“Hm…” Theseus yawned. 

Newt stayed with him until he fell asleep, gently combing his fingers through his hair. 

Theseus slept off an on until the next day, when he came to feeling like if he continued lying down his spine would fuse with the bed. His damaged shoulder didn’t ache anymore, but it felt heavy and slimy. Turning his head, Theseus found himself almost kissing Fido’s nose, who was resting on the edge of the bed happily drooling over Theseus’ bandages. 

“Newt will skin you if he sees that.” Theseus pointed out, and the dog opened his eyes, starting to happily beat his tail against the floor. With one long sweep, he covered Theseus’ entire face in drool. 

“Oh, fantastic!” He complained, shoving the dog away. Some of it had actually gotten inside his nostrils. Sitting up, and noticing how it was much easier to do now, even if his side was still achy and weak, he tried to get up on his own. His legs felt wobbly and cotton-like but he actually managed to reach the basin of water in the corner. He drank some and then cupped it in his hands, splashing his face with it, refreshing afterwards his torso, underarms, and head. Feeling cleaner and better since the last time he’s been on their ship. 

Theseus frowned, what could have happened to the Mooncalf? Looking around the room he noticed Newt’s things in the corner, but the boy himself was outside. Theseus could hear his voice. He approached the window, looking out. 

It showed a small patio with seating, a well, and some bushes. Newt was on the other side, talking with Minerva. Theseus noted with satisfaction that it was the Priestess who kept Newt company, not Albus, at least not for now. 

Figuring he could go outside and pleasantly greet them, he went looking for a robe to dress himself in. Newt would hardly bat an eyelash at his nakedness, but he would rather not flash the stern-looking woman. 

However, his robe was nowhere to be seen, contemplating using the bedsheet, Theseus noticed that Newt had some clothes over his bed. The fabric seemed foreign and felt nice, several tunics and some compliments. Theseus’ eye twitched. Probably presents from Albus. But then, he saw the bow and raised his eyebrows in surprise, picking it up. Either his eyes played a trick on him or that was the same bow Newt had left on board the Mooncalf. Theseus could hardly confuse that bow with any other, since it had been commissioned by him for Newt’s seventeenth birthday. The quill too… Theseus frowned, a piece of tightly curled parchment stuck out of it alongside the arrows. 

Theseus picked it up and unfurled, not really considering that it might not have been meant for him.

“Newton,

I received your second missive with great joy. Knowing that my brother is feeling better fills with relief my own heart and health. We don’t need another tragedy in this family so soon. I would advise you against returning to Attica for now. The situation here is getting worse. I decided to give sanctuary to king Melanthus of Messenia and his family. Thymoetes is not too happy, but we can’t rule out that my father’s distrust of them hadn’t been what angered the gods. However, just in case I prefer to have Theseus away from the palace for now. Besides, the roads have become unsafe and the seas are even worse. The Mooncalf avoided capture twice upon their return. 

I am sending you some of your things and monetary funds with my fastest horse, hoping that they will reach you. Take care of my brother. He is second in line now, we need him alive. 

Awaiting updates,

-King Apheidas of Attica”

“Thes? You’re awake?” Newt’s voice somewhere behind him reached Theseus like spoken through a waterfall, distorted like a dream, just as the light, the aromas in the air and the echoes of his own pain. Theseus kept staring at that signature: King Apheidas of Attica. King.  

“What happened to my father?” Somebody uttered that question and he was only half aware that it had come from his own mouth. 

“Thes-”

“When were you going to tell me?” 

This can’t be... This can’t be happening. It had to be a mistake, right? Maybe his father just was ill and Apheidas took his place. Or he just abdicated and that’s why… We don’t need another tragedy in this family... Another. 

He turned around slowly, the missive clutched in his grip so tight he was tearing into the leather without feeling the pain at all. Newt stood in the doorway, holding a bowl of fruit, his expression a mixture of shock and sorrow. 

“I’m sorry...” He whispered, hesitantly taking a step closer, and the pity in his eyes spoke volumes. Suddenly it made sense why the pirates decided it was easier to sell Theseus directly rather than negotiate with a brother that might not want a contender to the throne returned. This must have been among the news brought by the carrier. Everybody knew already then. Everybody has known for weeks except him.

“When were you going to tell me?”  He repeated, voice devoid of emotion. Newt flinched. 

“Once you were better. I didn’t want to perturb you too much, I-” He didn’t finish, figuring any excuses would be fruitless. He took a couple of careful steps in, leaving his bowl on a small table and approaching Theseus. But the prince took a step back. Suddenly the prospect of being touched felt like too much. 

“How?”

“A heartache. It happened suddenly, because of all the worries. Thes, listen-” His hand made a grab for Theseus’ but he took another step back, shaking his head. He felt a wave reaching shore, about to break as the understanding sunk in. 

“Go.” He heard himself more than felt his own lips move “Go away. I need to be alone.” 

Newt was looking at him startled, worried, scared… and Theseus felt like all that attention was weighing him down, he was afraid of how the would react to it, and the wave was closing in, the words “he’s dead” running on a loop at the back of his mind, wearing down his denial.

“Get out!!” 

As unsure as we were, Newt obeyed and, grabbing Fido by the collar, both fled the room. The dog’s tail hit the leg of the table on its way out and the bowl of fruit clattered precariously on the edge, the ceramic reflecting the light and its colors too vivid for the darkness descending upon Theseus’ soul, mocking him with its rich vibrancy. 

Wobbling on his feet and suddenly irate with it, with the entire world, with Newt and Apheidas and mostly himself, Theseus swat at it, hurling it to the ground and breaking it into a myriad of pieces, figs and apples rolling across the floor. The bowl was broken, like his father’s body, like his own life now. The table went next, overturned and broken. Theseus had always been violent in his mourning. He screamed, vision swimming with tears and heart burning with the most cutting pain he’s ever felt. Nothing, not his mother’s abandonment, nor two fatal wounds on his body could compare to a loss like this. The man that had raised him with so much love and dedication, that had taught him everything he knew and always showed pride and confidence in him… The man had should have been there forever… was gone.

A physical, more urgent pain on his side brought him back from his madness, the bandages on his side seeping through with blood. He must have torn his stitches in his fit. Shuffling back Theseus fell on Newt’s bed and, hiding his face in his hands wept like a little child, alone on a stormy night. 

Chapter Text

The rain came out of nowhere. Maybe it was just the time of the year, or maybe the manifestation of Theseus’ own grief. He lay on his bed, facing the wall, and refused to come out. His side and shoulder started aching again, almost as if trying to compete with the agonizing pain in his heart. The rest of his body, including his mind, felt completely numb. 

Even if he had been interested in counting days he wouldn’t have been able to tell how many had passed since he read the news of his father’s death. Newt kept visiting, attempting to talk to Theseus and running cold fingers through his hair, his voice drowning in the monotone pouring outside. He spoke words of reassurance and compassion, trying to coax an emotion out of his charge:

“King Oxyntes was a good man, a good leader. He also lived a long, eventful life.” Newt would insist, but it made no difference, Theseus already knew that. His father had been old, seasoned and beloved. His memory would not fade from his kingdom anytime soon. And yet… and yet it made no sense for him to be gone, to have just vanished like morning mist. 

Theseus didn’t want to hear reassurances or condolences from anyone. Who was he to receive them? Just a spoiled brat, a boy that hadn’t grown up yet to see life for what it really was, a child dreaming with the glory of a quest that left in a moment when his city needed him most. His father had asked of him only one thing his entire life - to marry well for the good of the kingdom. And yet he obstinately refused to even consider that simple request, accusing his father of treating him like merchant goods and parting on an angry note. Their last words to each other had been petulantly cold. After all his father did to fulfill his stupid adventure fantasy, Theseus failed to be a man or even a good son, refusing his father a parting embrace. If only he had known… 

He would not respond to visits and kindness, burrowing himself in the sheets. Sometimes he heard other voices outside the door, Minerva the priestess or the servant girls that took care of him. Several times the King came by, talking to Newt in a warm and sweet tone, the meaning of their words to each other lost to prying ears, but the closeness and affection growing with each new conversation, like a piercing blade slowly forged to cut through guts and bone.

When Theseus managed to fall asleep his dreams were no better. Shapes and shadows that he almost recognized but not yet, speaking bitter truths to him, reminding him of every failure, every broken promise he ever made. His brothers turning his back on him, the face of his mother evaporating into nothing, Newt’s father accusing him of putting his son in danger, Percival calling him a dumb child, Newt taking Albus’ arms and leaving him…

Then, one night, it changed. 

He stood in the cave of the oracle at Delphi, green smoke rising from the cracks in the floor, reeking of sulfur and putrid meat. The old oracle, sitting on a three-legged stool and swaying in her trance, her voice raspy and deep, echoing from the walls: 

By Ichor spilling in the East 

And blood of mortals in the west 

Dawn of the new gods reborn 

The mark of wisdom finds its home

The cavern walls started cracking and giant boulders fell around Theseus, burying the oracle in rubble and tearing down the mountain, until he stood in the middle of a temple, the sky outside painted red with flames dancing over a magnificent city, among cries of battle in the distance, the metallic smell of blood carried by the wind. A woman in a priestess's outfit, pushing something into a slave’s chest: Take this, the Lady doesn’t want it to remain here anymore. The fate of this city is sealed, I told them so but they wouldn’t believe me. Now they’ll see. The girl tried to protest but the priestess sneered at her: Take it away, hide it, hide with it. This is not its place anymore. We disgraced her. She wishes it gone, and safe, to find a new home one day by its own terms . The girl nodded and, hiding whatever it was under her cloak, ran away, diving into a narrow passage. 

The woman walked to the edge of the temple, overlooking the bloody scenes on the horizon, and threw her arms out, as if embracing the carnage. Her voice shook with might and madness alike as she screamed her lungs out, laughing and screeching like a murdered spirit between words “Hear me Ilion ! Hear me for I’ve been telling you you’ll fall!! Hear me wretched city! Hear Cassandra speak your death and ruin! It comes! It’s coming now! And we are all cursed! Condemned to the pits of punishment! Hear me and believe me!! Believe me now!! ” 

Theseus woke up with a startle, feverish sweat drenching his shaking body. The phantoms of burning buildings and brutality dancing behind his eyes, that woman’s crazy voice echoing in his brain. 

Still trembling and terrified, he extricated himself from the cocoon of bed sheets, using a hand to guide himself outside, into the patio filled with pouring rain, pitch dark in a lightless night. 

The downpour felt like a new dawn on his skin, soothing it with it a pleasant coolness, almost velvety in its embrace as he stood completely naked under it, head tilted upwards and eyelids closed. He was well aware of what he had just seen, but couldn't understand why . He should probably share it with Newt, see what the priest could gather from his dreams. It occurred to him that he hadn’t felt Newt’s presence in his room the past few nights, and a sliver of doubt and worry, the first emotion aside from dreadful self-loathing and apathy that he’d been submerged in what seemed like forever, wormed itself inside his chest, overpowering the former.  

However, that very moment his legs felt like they would give out if he even took one step, his arms soft like cotton and his entire body tired and thirsty. He stood under the downpour for hours, until the cold broke into his bones and he was forced to go inside, collapsing on Newt’s bed and burying his face in the pillow. 

He slept a dreamless slumber for a few blissful hours until the lack of sound woke him up. The rain had stopped, the sky cleared and the first rays of down barely broke the field of a starry night. 

Theseus dressed himself in a tunic he found folded on the repaired table and, for the first time, ventured out of his room. He walked through the sleeping palace until he heard voices outside the window. It offered a good view of the front entrance, where two figures were getting ready to mount their horses. With growing unease, Theseus recognized king Albus and Newt, both clad in traveling cloaks and assisted by the guards. Once mounted, Albus gave some instructions, turned towards Newt and smiled sweetly. Newt smiled back and shook the reins. The two of them disappeared into the darkness. 

Confused and disillusioned, Theseus turned the way he’d come from. Where were they going? Why would the King himself want to accompany Newt? Didn’t he have better things to do? Like, run a Kingdom, for example? What was he planning? With such brooding thoughts in his head, Theseus didn’t notice as the power-walked well past his room and got lost in the palace. The place was waking up, the servants peeking out of their rooms and frowning at the guest prince, but he didn’t feel like asking anyone for directions. 

Finally, he arrived at a deserted corner of the giant building, that led into a wide platform framed by tall columns and overlooking the city. At the center stood an altar with a marble statue veiled by shadows, and by her feet, a kneeling woman. She turned around when she heard Theseus walk in and he recognized Minerva, the king’s sister and high priestess of Athena. Theseus understood then the space was an in-house shrine to the Goddess. 

“May I join you?” He asked. 

Minerva nodded and made space for him at the feet of the statue. Theseus inspired and started praying quietly. He knew better than to demand anything without offering a sacrifice first, but he talked about his father, about what a good man he had been and how much he deserved Elysium. He knew Athena had no say in the ruling of the souls’ final destination, but he wanted Olympus to know about him and his virtues. He also spoke of his brothers and how they were now protecting the city that the Goddess had favored through the ages, of Newt and his dedication, of how they had relied on each other ever since their mother had abandoned them. He didn’t ask outright “please, don’t let him love anyone but me” but deep inside he was tempted. He opened his heart and soul to the Lady for what felt like hours, until his own rumbling stomach interrupted him. 

He hadn’t realized when Minerva had left, but a servant girl stood patiently outside, ready to guide him back to his quarters, where he was greeted by clean clothes, cooling food, freshly made beds, and a snoring Fido. 

Theseus woke him up and they shared the deer stew and bread in the patio, watching a flock of sparrows bathe in the fountain until Fido decided they looked rather like dessert. Theseus rolled his eyes but didn’t stop the giant dog from leaping inside and trying to catch the birds, rather unsuccessfully. 

He couldn't help but worry and wonder where Newt was. Now that he had grieved and more-or-less made peace with his father’s death through reflection and prayer, he realized how terrible he’d behaved towards Newt ever since he found out about it. He wanted to apologise and hold him in his arms again, breathe in his sweet scent and kiss the frown off his face. 

Fido’s enthusiastic bark interrupted his daydreams. The dog bounced his hind legs and trotted out of the patio, yapping cheerfully, no doubt feeling the presence of his owner nearby. Theseus jumped from his seat and followed him. 

Newt and king Albus were dismounting the horses when Theseus got close enough to see them. Fido ran to Newt’s side and circled him, waiting patiently for a pat on the head, that he received promptly. But there was something off about Newt, something different, not to mention his grim expression. Albus said something to him and was offered a weak smile back. 

Then, the king opened his arms and embraced Newt. 

Theseus gripped the doorframe with such force something cracked. Either it was the wood or his own fingers, he didn’t care, the bitter jealousy tasting like bile in his mouth as he watched Newt not pull away but reciprocate the hug, his arms clasping the fabric on Albus' back, and head resting in the crook of his shoulder. 

Time froze as he forgot to blink, staring at the scene in disbelief until Newt pulled away, his smile more genuine now, wiping tears from his eyes, then he looked aside and his eyes locked upon Theseus. His entire frame tensed and Albus must have noticed it because he looked in the same direction as well. 

Newt sighed, exchanged a knowing look with Albus and the king shrugged, waving at Theseus and walking away in the opposite direction, both horse’s reins in hand, despite the servant covering around him and offering to help. 

Newt crossed the entrance patio, his new traveling cloak shimmering as he approached Theseus. And there was definitely something different about him, something tangible had been added or removed from his typical image. But Theseus neither could put his finger on it nor did he particularly care. 

“What was that about?” He asked, and his voice came out harder than he had planned, once they were face to face. 

“Glad to see you out of bed. How are you feeling?” Newt chose to ignore his question, which definitely wasn’t suspicious at all, was it?

“Where have you been the past few nights?” 

Newt’s nose scrunched up and he crossed his arms over his chest defensively. “I asked for another room, since you refused to take a bath and kept talking in your sleep.” Not that I expected you to notice I was gone , his eyes seemed to say, but he didn’t say it out loud. “I needed peace and space to rest and think on my own.” 

“Think about what?” Theseus had some suspicions running around in his head but Newt just rolled his eyes.

“Thes, I’m glad that you are feeling better, but I’m exhausted and in need of a bath, also food. Can we please tackle your jealousy later?” 

Theseus blushed, recoiling at the directness and Newt huffed, pushing past him and into the corridors.

Theseus sat brooding in this room for a good while, until a refreshed Newt came back, holding a sword that he threw at Theseus. 

“What’s that?” Theseus unsheathed it partially, scowling at the blade. 

“The weapon you stole from that pirate and used to protect me at the slave market. The royal smith finally got to repairing and sharpening it. Which is just as right, since we should talk about when will we be leaving.” 

“Leaving?” Theseus set the sword aside, Newt lowered himself on the bed next to him. 

“Unless you are planning to impose upon our hosts forever. It’s been almost a month already.” 

Theseus winced. He really did lost track of time. But… “ You want to leave?” he couldn't keep the accusation out of his voice. Newt scowled. 

“Heeere we go again. Seriously? After all this time?” 

“What?!” 

“You’ve been acting the same way since I was twelve, every single time you noticed someone even blink at me funny, even if it was your imagination. It’s getting old and, honestly at this point, insulting.” 

“It was not my imagination what I saw today!” Theseus raised his voice, spreading his arms “Since when are you so touchy-feely with others?!” 

“I just did something really hard for me, for your information! And needed a friend around! Albus is a good man, so stop this!” 

“I’ve seen how that good man looks at you, and that is not my imagination! Nor is it when you hug and touch him back! Aw!” He yelped when Newt jabbed a finger in his chest painfully.

“After what I’ve sacrificed for you today, don’t you dare to accuse me of… of… “ His cold, growling voice broke on the last word, probably because not even Theseus knew exactly what he was accusing him of, much less Newt himself. Still, the anger in his eyes and the sneer he was giving Theseus didn’t subside.

"If you don't tell me..." Theseus left it hanging, leaning back.

“I went to the nearest temple of Artemis, for your information.” Newt finally said and pulled away, crossing his arms over his chest and scowling with a godly might. 

Theseus failed to get why was that information relevant. Newt was a priest of Artemis. The least he had to do was visiting her temples to pay his respects everywhere he traveled to. It’s not like doing his rank-appointed duty was anything out of the ordinary. After all, he was still bound to her by-

And then Theseus understood why, suddenly, newt looked so different. What was missing.

Halfway between Newt’s hairline and his brow, only a pale line of untanned skin marked the place where the silver band of Artemis used to sit. But it was gone, the band that singled-out Newt’s high rank in the clergy was there no more, somehow making Newt look younger and more serious at the same time. 

“I renounced,” Newt answered Theseus’ unvoiced question, the fight draining out of him. “Today I asked Albus to come with me to the temple of Artemis, so I could pray for her forgiveness, renegade of my vows and officially give up my duty as her servant.” 

“Can you even do that?” Theseus asked breathlessly. He couldn't stop staring at the spot the missing band should be. Newt shrugged, looking down at his own hands. 

“I don’t know. Chances are she will curse or smite me, or maybe turn me into a bear. But I thought about it a lot and... after what we did on the new moon, I just figured it was best to stop trying to insult her by pretending she could be fooled.”

“Do you still think it was her who sent the storm?”

“Maybe, maybe not. But I couldn’t possibly keep on warring with my own conscience. I had to choose and” he looked up, gleaming eyes full of a myriad of emotions “I realized I’ve already done it. Back then, on the night of the new moon, I chose you over her.” 

Theseus was speechless. He didn’t know how to react. All Newt has ever thrived for in his life was religious service. He could barely imagine Newt outside that life. 

“I’m so sorry” he finally choked out “I should have said no. Now because of me-” 

Newt shook his head “I’m an adult, Thes. I made my own decision in a moment of weakness, I lost control of my body and my emotions, and dragged you behind. If anything, it’s me who should apologize because chances are, if she is mad at me she will also be at you now. But what’s done is done, and I realized I couldn’t keep pretending like nothing had happened, or that… or that one time would ever be enough for me.” 

Theseus made a tiny squeak at the back of his throat, realizing where all of that was going. Newt smiled tentatively, no doubt amused by his startled expression.

“I just gave up everything I’ve ever known, for you,” he continued “so don’t you dare to accuse me of falling for someone else instead.” 

Theseus was still putting all the pieces together, realization settling in and blooming in a wave of hope. He felt like he could be dreaming, except that his dreams were never that pleasant. 

“Do you… do you want to kiss?” He managed to peep out, and immediately felt like a stupid goose, but it coerced a laugh out of Newt, who finally turned al the way towards him, rubbing the tears from his eyes. 

“What are you? A ten year old, asking such a question? Of course I want to kiss.”

Theseus was on him in a millisecond, toppling them both over the bed and stealing the breath from his lungs. 

Newt’s mouth tasted of salty tears and the grapes he’d had after dinner, warm and welcoming, hungry even, as if he’d been denied something vital for a long time. 

Theseus tried to apologize between kisses, he didn’t even know what for, maybe for lacking faith, but Newt shut him up with his tongue, rolling them over and taking charge, making it very clear that he wanted something else at that moment, not an apology, not to keep talking. He thrust his hips against his lover’s thigh, the thin fabric of his tunic doing little to conceal his growing arousal. Theseus responded by grabbing his behind and grinding their hips together, barely breaking their kiss to let Newt pant and moan. Or was it him who was doing that? 

Their kisses turned messy, still desperate but wet and ravishing as well. In the dying light of the sunset they rocked against each other and kissed to make up for a lifetime, legs tangled and hands clasped together. Newt’s lips were cherry red and glistening with saliva when he thrust his head back, mouth open in a silent cry of ecstasy, spilling hot between their bodies, and Theseus followed him as he would to the end of the world. 

Later they lay together, still intertwined, still kissing, lazily and with gusto, when something occurred to Theseus. 

“I dreamt of the fall of Troy” He confessed. “I feel like this quest must continue, despite everything, there is something there waiting for me.”

“The sword?” 

“Probably,” Although he didn’t seem very convinced. “or maybe something else. But I will need the sword of my great-grandfather anyway. The prophecy said so, it’s the key to the glory and the salvation of Athens. I can’t just give up now. I owe it to my father to at least try and do good by his last hopes for me.”

Newt nodded, squeezing his hand tighter. “I was going to suggest returning to Attica, when I came here earlier, but if you truly believe this mission is so important... Well, wherever you go, I go. We are stuck together now.”

And how could Theseus do anything else but kiss him senseless after that?

Chapter Text

Theseus was feeling uncomfortable. It’s not like he had a legitimate reason to, or still felt threatened, but walking through the palace grounds two steps behind king Albus he found himself stiff and out of small talk topics, which was unusual for him, a prince trained since birth to bullshit his way through political and social events alike. 

He had been invited by the king himself to accompany him that morning, which he found weird and suspicious, but Newt narrowed his eyes and stared at him very pointedly until he agreed to go, be civil, and give the king at least the benefit of the doubt, if not a hand in friendship. 

Albus, on his part, looked as fresh and well-rested as one could be, cheerfully walking around his palace, accepting and giving good wishes, stopping to talk to the guards, giving out instructions to the maids, letting random visitors and petitioners join them, and so on. It’s as if the could sense Theseus’ stiffness and revelled in it. 

Finally, they came to the armory, well equipped with all sorts of pointy and dangerous stuff. Albus invited Theseus to select one and, grabbing a sword himself, guided them to the training grounds, shooing away a couple of young trainees. 

“So, a little birdie told me you are leaving us soon?” 

Theseus frowned, adopting a defensive stance and wondering when could have Newt told Albus that, since he apparently decided that it was time to get going after coming back from the temple of Artemis, last night. 

Albus smiled, unsheathing his own sword and getting into a fighting stance. “Oh, I meant your maid.” He clarified, apparently reading Theseus' mind. “A good king should never forget that his palace’s walls have ears, my young prince.”  And on that, he surged forward. 

Theseus raised his guard, intercepting his sword just barely and feeling forced to take a step back in order to keep this balance. The king’s face was a few inches from his own now, locked in a stone-set smile, but there was something dangerous, something accusing in his eyes. Theseus pushed with his blade and they stepped away from the stalemate. 

“Why are we doing this?” He finally asked, sweating after another couple of attacks. Albus, however, wasn’t even out of breath. 

“Because you were badly hurt, my dearest guest, and then spent almost a month barely getting out of bed. Do you really feel right now that you would be capable of crossing treacherous lands, fight off countless wild beasts and bandits, and face whatever dangers the eastern lands throw at you? And protect your precious companion all the while?”

Theseus dropped his guard in surprise, which was a bad idea because the next second his sword flew out of his hand and he was caught between a wall and the point of the king’s blade. 

Albus stepped back, still smiling in that cold way of his. Despite his rising shame and tiredness, Theseus managed to stand straight and cross his arms over his chest, like Newt would do when he was being defensive. “He doesn’t need me to protect himself.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that. He’s got quite a talent with a bow, that wonderful young man.” Albus said, his smile turning a bit more genuine, and immediately mischievous once he saw the look on Theseus’ face. “Oh, I’m not trying to get between you two. I must admit I tried to test the waters, for a while there, but I don’t think I ever stood a real chance. However, I can’t help but care for the wellbeing of such a gentle soul. He doesn’t deserve to die because you are too weak to have his back.”

Theseus scowled, but Albuse’s eyes softened. He walked towards a bench on the side and sat down, a servant appearing out of nowhere to offer him a basin of water that he could wash his hands in. “I am going to impart a bit of wisdom on you, dear guest: every hero has a fatal flaw that ends up being their undoing. I suspect that yours is your hot head. You are impulsive, easily distracted,  and act before you think, something not uncommon at your age, but rather dangerous. That, paired with Newt’s fatal flaw, makes of you two a questionable pair of travelers.”

“Newt’s flaw?”

“His faith.” 

“That is not a flaw.” Theseus sat down beside Albus. 

“Most things aren’t, in moderation. However, his faith, his faith in you, in particular, is blind. And blind faith only leads to an early grave. “ 

“You barely know us, how can you talk so surely?”

Albus stiffened a grimace, looking up at the sky. “Because I too, made mistakes when I was young. That taught me the value of learning how to read people quickly, for what they really are. Newt has so much faith in you he gave up a Goddess, risking the wrath of Olympus, and is about to follow you on a suicide mission, all out of love. Not many people have the strength to do that. I certainly don’t, thank the gods.” He looked at Theseus from the corner of his eye, the crow’s feet around it twinkling. “I hope you’re worth such an honor, prince of Attica.” 

“You really do care for him.” Theseus swallowed around the knot in this throat. 

“He is a genuinely good youth.” Albus agreed “Those are the ones that deserve being cared for.” 

He rose from his seat, cracking his knuckles. “Newt believes in you, but considering your current state - I don’t. And for his own sake, I recommend you to stay for at least another week. Eat and sleep well, train as much as you can, recover your physical strength and your skill. My guard captains are at your disposal for practice.” 

“Thank you, your majesty.” Theseus was unsure whether he should feel insulted or grateful, so he went for the most diplomatic approach. Watching Albus walk away, however, he shouted at his back “Who was it?!” 

“Pardon me?” Albus turned around. 

“Who was your mistake?”

Albus considered him for a few seconds, then smiled, in that unsettling way of his “A grandchild of Eris, goddess of discord. I should have known better than to expect him to change his nature for me. Stick with the good ones, my dear Theseus, always stick with the good ones.”

And with that, he was gone. 

***

True to his word, Albus ordered his men to go hard and merciless on Theseus, who suddenly felt like he was in prep-camp again. Except that here nobody took into consideration his royal status. He was dragged out of his bed every morning before dawn for training and returned well after sunset. All the while Newt spent his days out hunting with Albus (supposedly to practice his marksmanship, claimed the king), racing horses and studying maps. Needless to say, at the end of the day, they both were famished enough to devour half of that day’s catch on their own. 

Theseus didn’t whine (too much) however. Even if sometimes it felt humiliating and completely inhumane, the hard training quickly began to pay off. With every day of wrestling, sword fighting, swimming against the river’s freezing current, lifting sacks of grain, stretching, spear throwing and grating his teeth every time the captain of the guard yelled at him and called him names, he felt his muscle mass returning, his tendons strengthening, his agility and resistance improving… his freshly healed wounds complained at first but the healer rolled her eyes and proclaimed him fine, he was a son of a Titaness after all. Besides, the busy schedule and physical exhaustion barely left him any time and energy to worry about Athens or grieve his father. 

He suspected years would pass until he was ready to move on from that blow, but he was able to push it deep inside his heart. He had other priorities now: the king’s stinging words worming themselves like the secondary effect of a healer’s balm into his head “ don’t let him die because you’re too weak to guard his back”. He had to be stronger than ever now, stronger and more capable and more dangerous than he’s ever been, in order to protect Newt on their perilous journey ahead. 

"You fight like a pissed off wife!" The captain would taunt him and spit at his face with surprising accuracy while he dodged Theseus' blows, "And you're supposed to be a servant of Athena? Her Ladyship must be ashamed of you." He swept Theseus' legs, making him fall into the dirt. "Stand up and show me that Athens is not just a bunch of gangly weaklings, underserving of their patron. On your feet, you go, princeling!" He kicked Theseus' ribs until the prince managed to roll off and drag himself up from the ground for the umpteenth time that day. 

Finally, two weeks later, came the day when he was able to disarm his teacher, yank his sword away, and fight off the two guards that jumped him as soon as the point of his blade touched their captain’s chest plate. He side-kicked one in the stomach, making him double over, and dodged the other's attack, tackling him instead into the Captain, so both bodies tumbled to the ground.

The captain disentangled himself from the other man and nodded proudly up at him, Theseus grinned. He had trained incredibly hard, learned new tricks, and felt strong again. Ready to take on everything the barbaric Thrace threw at him, and just as motivated to leave Abdera. 

Don’t get him wrong, he was immensely grateful to king Albus, who went above and beyond to grant them such hospitality Zeus himself would have been proud, but Theseus still hated how sickeningly sweet and handsy he acted with Newt. Oh, and there was also the matter of Attica waiting for the sacred sword or whatever. 

They began their journey first thing in the morning. Theseus and Newt both energized by dawn and the prospect of continuing their journey after over a month of stagnancy.  Minerva stood stern-faced and kept offering advice, king Albus either half asleep or deeply emotional (it was hard to tell). He hugged Newt at least four times, whispering something to his ear that made the, usually very averse to foreign touch, boy laugh and shake his head in endeared exasperation. Theseus grumbled at that. 

Both of them had a hard time saying goodbye to Fido. 

The giant dog lay with his paws on the ground, head resting on them, looking as miserable as a recent mother of a stillborn child. Newt had instructed him to stay in Abdera, spent almost a day making sure he would obey Minerva and promising time and time again to send for him or come in person as soon as their quest was over. 

Theseus had tried to find a way to bring him along but the overgrown brute was too heavy and big to ride on the back on a steed, even if he had been able to lay like a sack of potatoes for entire days straight. Nor could he follow them on the gallop for long. 

While Newt finished covering his best friend of a lifetime in kisses, Theseus tried to pay for the horses that they were given, but Albus waved it aside. They would need the money that Thes’s brother sent them, and Abdera was a rich city, famous for its horses (even the non-cannibalistic kind). 

“Consider it one last present” he’d said to Newt, that had finally joined them “not even comparable to the gift of joy that your company has bestowed on me, my dear.” 

The constant barking of Fido, as he raced after them for the first ten minutes, getting fainter with the distance, broke Theseus' heart a little bit. However, way too soon, their challenges began. 

***

Outside of Abdera, Thrace was a land beyond law, a landscape of white stones and dry ground peppered in high bushes, swarming with warlords and barbarians. Such as the ones that sprung from behind the rocks, blocking their path as Newt and Theseus were riding around the bay, having decided to take the coastal route. Eight heavily armed men with long, blazing torches meant to scare their horses. Abdera could still be seen on the hilltop in the distance and those were obviously the band of cargo thieves that the palace guards had warned them about. 

“Your money or-” The leader started, but an arrow rudely interrupted him, embedding itself in his shoulder. The man screamed and that unnerved Newt’s horse even more, as he struggled to control it and ready another shot from his bow at the same time, holding a spare arrow between his teeth. 

“Hold on!” Theseus, called out, unsheathing his sword. He held onto the reins tightly, as the remaining barbarians swung their torches, using them as spears to make them retreat towards the cliff. Their leader cursed and tried to extract the arrow, but it had embedded itself in a tendon. 

Theseus managed to direct his horse towards Newt’s catching both reins in his other hand. That allowed Newt to take two quick shots, one to a man’s thigh and another that was supposed to go for a shoulder but missed and hit a poor bastard directly in the chest. 

Newt froze, as the bandit wobbled on this feet and stumbled backward, clutching the shaft in his fist and falling down. One of his companions caught his fall but the wounded man just coughed out blood and shook one last time. 

Newt’s face betrayed his shock, he hadn’t meant to do that. Luckily, the rest of the attackers stopped as well, as if they hadn’t expected their prey to actually counter-attack for real and now were re-calculating their chances. 

“Hold this!” Theseus told Newt, thrusting his reins into Newt’s hand and jumping off. He swung his sword in a circle and whistled at the remaining bandits, beckoning them with his other hand. He was ridiculously outnumbered, even without counting the two wounded men but, as the captain of the guard had put it a few days ago, half of the trick with barbarians was bravado. And true to those words, they hesitated, three of them glancing dubiously between Newt and Theseus, while the other two collected the body of their dead friend and tried to stop the leader’s bleeding, who was screaming bloody murder. 

So Theseus attacked first, his sword swinging at the nearest torch and knocking it out of the bandit’s hands. Theseus stomped on the shaft of wood, breaking it to free his blade and charged again, this time encountering resistance from the bandit, that had raised his knife. Theseus knocked it out of his hands as well but another man attacked him from his left. Theseus jumped aside and ran his sword through the assailant’s side. It came out covered in blood and the man screamed, collapsing on one knee and clutching his ribs. 

Newt whistled, calling attention to himself. He had managed to keep control of the horses, that were behaving better now without torches thrust in their faces, and pulled another arrow into his bow, aiming for the bandit closest to Theseus. 

With one dead, two fatally wounded, one incapacitated and one completely disarmed members, the group decided to cut their losses and scrambled backwards, running away as best as they could with their human cargo. Once they were out of reach, Theseus ran towards Newt, who was balancing precariously on top of his mount, he helped him to dismount and as soon as his feet hit the ground Newt doubled over and threw up. 

Theseus held him, patting his back reassuringly. 

“Do you want to go back to Abdera?” He asked with concern. Newt shivered, leaning against his chest. 

“No.” He answered with relative conviction, and then “I’ve only... killed prey before. Deer, rabbits, food, I… never a person.” 

“Yeah, it’s not easy at first.” Theseus agreed “At least you didn’t kill an unarmed man, as I did at the pirate market. My sin is worse, but the furies haven’t descended upon me yet, so I’m guessing we are both going to be fine.” 

“You were protecting me.” Newt complained, rightening himself. 

“And you were protecting the both of us. Newt-” Theseus took him by the shoulders, looking straight into his eyes. I’m not saying you won’t feel guilty from now on, and it’s not like I have any more experience on this killing thing, but we have a long journey in front of us, full of folks that are going to want to rob and murder us. Or for a pretty boy like you, maybe even worse. They don’t care about proper and wrong. We have the right to defend ourselves, yeah?” 

Newt nodded, sighing and resting his forehead on Theseus' shoulder. “ s’just that I’ve been a clergy most of my life.” 

Theseus kissed the top of his head. “Well, you are not anymore. Are you sure you don’t want to return to the city?” 

Newt pulled back, turning around to spit on the ground and then gurgled down some watered down wine from his bullskin. “No, we have at least ten days on horseback in front of us, more if we keep getting derailed. I’ll be fine. I’ll just have to get used to the idea that I can and will have to do that now.” his eyes darted towards the bloodied patch of grass where the shot body had fallen, eyes hardening with steel-cold resolve. 

Theseus sighed. He hated to see Newt mature in front of his eyes, and this was not the first time it happened, not even since they left Athens. If it were for him he would take on all the cruelty and guilt in the world for Newt to remain an innocent goody-two-shoes for the rest of his life. Alas, it was not within his power nor his prerogative. He extended his arms, hugging Newt and kissed his head again. 

“First the pirates, then the resignation, and now this. You really are making the most of this journey, experience-wise.” 

Newt snorted, humorlessly. “And don’t forget the sex.” 

“Yeah, we should do more of that, to compensate.” 

Newt pulled back, shaking his head, but he seemed calmer and the tug on is mouth more genuine. “Let us go.” he prompted, going to saddle his horse again. "We can't waste all day standing here." 

Theseus followed his example. 

Chapter Text

One of the key moments of the voyage of Jason and the Argonauts had always been considered how the crew decided to risk crossing the Hellespont, the moving rocks that separated the Aegean from the Black Sea. The storytellers that relied that adventure always insisted on how it would have been easier to disassemble the ship, mount it on rolling logs, and transport it overland. However, not even the Argonauts were crazy enough to venture into the forests that bordered the treacherous strait. 

Now, Theseus could admire with his own eyes the Hellespont extending under their feet, as he and Newt stood on the top of the mountain that overlooked the lands surrounding the narrow strip of sea. 

Theoretically, the moving rocks stopped their movement, after the Argo escaped their trap, remaining open to welcome a new age of commerce through their mouth. The route became so popular that the one city that seized control of it quickly became the most powerful in the Hellenic world. That city, obviously, had been Troy. After the war, the order established by the Trojans collapsed and even if the Achaeans did their best to maintain it, it has never been as safe again. However, two settlements still stood on each side, the fires of their hearths producing columns of white smoke that rose in the background like sanctuary banners. 

Theseus followed with his gaze the road leading towards the heavily protected walls of the town. Even from that distance and with a swollen eye (courtesy of a recent encounter with a warlord’s scouting party) he could pick on two traps set for the lone travelers. 

“What do you think?” He asked Newt, who was assessing the same path. 

“If experience is anything to go by, the first group will pull up a rope.” 

Theseus winced. Two days ago they’ve had their worst experience with a group of bandits yet. Having seen the trap from afar, three men on each side standing in line behind some rocks, they decided to gallop by, as that usually worked fine. However, just as they approached, the bandits pulled up a rope across the road. Newt’s horse had been able to jump over by sheer luck, Theseus' tho… 

It was a miracle that the prince himself hadn’t broken his neck in the fall. The accident happened during the early morning, mist still swirling in the air and the time of dawn not yet over, his instincts sharper and body stronger, Theseus had reacted in a fraction of a heartbeat. He let go of the stirrups and the reins, clinging to the krin instead and using his poor mare’s body as a cushion, feet up, gripping her body with only his knees, just enough to mitigate the first collapse, rolling aside and away from her before she could crush him.

Newt had turned around immediately, bow at the ready and shooting two of the bandits right in the head, causing them to collapse and block the way for the rest fo the group that was about to bounce on his brother. It gave Theseus the necessary few seconds to unsheathe his sword and recently acquired dagger, swinging the first in a wide arch and thrusting the latter into some guy’s gut. 

Luckily, the group hadn’t been a big one, relying more on their trick than on numbers. Both Newt and Theseus made it out of the fray alive and well. The mare, hadn’t. Thanks to the gods the fall itself killed her so she did not have to suffer. 

So Theseus had been left without a horse but at least the group of bandits had managed to forget a mule in their wake. The animal was not impressed with the change of ownership and refused to walk half the time, which made Theseus suspect that her abandonment had not been coincidental. They’ve lost an entire day to her slow pace and stubbornness bursts. Thank god for that warlord scouting party! They’ve been gracious enough to exchange the overgrown donkey for a fine, even if a bit old and gassy, stallion. Okay so both sides walked away with minor injuries and there had been no explicit agreement signed on the trade, but Theseus still considered it fair. Try to rob us - you get a stubborn mule, we get your farty horse. 

“So we fight?” He confirmed with Newt, who ruffled his dirty hair and nodded his agreement with a tired grimace.

“We fight.” 

Their technique, discovered the day after leaving Abdera, was simple enough: Theseus went ahead, the bandits came out to meet him, Newt came galloping in and started shooting them one-by-one. He still insisted on not killing them if he could, but ever since that stubbornness almost cost him his head, Theseus let go of his own qualms, finishing off his adversaries whenever he could. 

Most of the time the fiends ran away, intimidated by the flawless way they worked together and the military training that they didn’t see often in the merchants with hired mercenaries that they were used to ambush. 

But out of the seven encounters they’ve had so far, one had been bad enough that they've needed to stay for five days in a seaside town while Newt recovered from a head wound and Theseus stopped bleeding from his underarm.

On the fourth night there, Theseus remembered between his feverish dreams a spark of reddish-gold and the feel of something wet and hot next to his face. He woke up covered in something nasty smelling and gooey, but feeling so much better, so he decided he had to give the local healers some credit after all. 

However, so far their planned 10-day journey had overextended into two weeks, and they were yet to cross the Hellespont. Luckily, the ambushes waiting for them on that last tram were lazy enough and by dinner time the boys finally reached the town that controlled the strait on the Thracian side, having made it out of the fights with both horses intact and only some minor bruises. 

“We should stay for a couple of days, rest.” Newt proposed once they’ve stumbled into their rented room for the night, tired as dogs but at least well-fed and safe. He untied the boar pelt that he had taken on wearing as a cape on the chilly nights, a single souvenir from another kind of encounter they've often had on the roads of Thrace, and started unlacing his sandals. 

Theseus watched him in silence. The quest had changed Newt; he seemed older, more aware of his surroundings now, still beautiful, but it was a different kind of beauty, a more seasoned one, a beauty that had to be respected, not protected. He wondered how he himself looked in comparison to the spoiled brat that had left the comforts of Athens for the prospect of a glorious adventure, for the chance to prove himself worthy of his bloodline. 

“I think you are right.” He agreed after considering it. “The other side is supposed to be more peaceful,”  The Achaean defenses stronger, as they’ve had been imposed after the war, and the land barren, still after so many years, full of ghosts and too unnerving for the living “but we've been wearing each other thin and our horses are exhausted. Let’s take some days to sleep it off, eat and buy supplies.” 

Newt smiled at him and Theseus raised his arm, inviting him into an embrace. They fell asleep in each other’s arms, covered in blankets but with a dagger under the pillow, just in case. 

The day of the crossing woke up cloudy and chilly, the water of the strait gray and choppy, but by the time Newt and Theseus had collected their belongings, including Newt’s newly replenished epic supply of arrows, the skies cleared enough to allow the ferryman to raise the anchor. The powerful but old ship, that they’ve chosen among the many that offered crossing services because it was large enough to be able to carry the horses as well, was nothing like the Mooncalf, however, it made Newt melancholic and Theseus had to admit it dampened his spirits as well. At first he thought it was related to their less than stellar experience at sea, however, the bottomless expanse of dark water surprisingly did not stir any post-traumatic fear, only the longing for a quieter time of their journey. 

The town on the other side was nearly identical to the one they left behind, but they didn’t stay to look around, taking to the road instead. The immediate difference was the decreased number of bandits and the increase in soldiers patrolling the route. 

“Oh, we are being overtaken on the south,” one old officer had told them when they’ve been stopped for interrogation “Trouble boils within the Hittite lands, their cities and crops are falling to sickness, so they are swarming us and turning our cities upside down as well, but here, around the remains of what used to be Troy… not even the invaders feel comfortable to rest for long.” He shivered looking around as if expecting an angry ghoul to sprout from the bushes. 

Only the least useful, the long injured and veteran, or the youngest recruits, were sent to patrol that area nowadays, Theseus noticed, the good men were protecting their homes and dying everywhere else. 

However, and despite the dire warnings of the guard regiment, Newt and Theseus rather enjoyed the newfound peace of their journey. The eerie stillness in the air a pleasant change to the war cries coming from behind every damn rock in Thrace.

They covered more distance in one day than expected and by the time nighttime drew close the banks of the river Simoeis glistened in bronze-red in the distance. Somewhere behind it, on top of the hill, the ruins of Troy awaited their coming. 

Newt and Theseus stopped to spend the night by a small stream waterfall that ran beside the mouth of a narrow cave. The entire hillside was peppered with them, but Newt liked that one because he could tie their horses to a nearby tree and light a fire at the mouth with enough space inside to place their furs and bags.

Theseus let him do as he took his clothes off and used the stream to clean the road’s dust and sweat off his skin. When he came back, shivering and wet but relieved, he flopped down on the extended furs, grateful for the heat of the bonfire. He started rummaging through their supply, pulling out bread, a piece of cheese, a sealed jar of fresh honey and some watered down wine. Newt came back from his own bath and practically threw himself into the fire, teeth chattering. Theseus laughed at him and offered a slice of bread soaked in honey. They ate and drank huddled together as the heat dried off their skin and the flames danced throwing the cavern’s shadows into stark contrast, making them seem almost alive. 

“If everything goes right,” Newt said, sucking at his fingertips to get the honey that stuck to them “this is probably the last night before we can enter Troy. Seems almost unreal that we are almost there, finally. Right?” 

“Uh-” Theseus couldn’t help but stare intently as his tongue flickered out, he was only dimly aware that he’d been asked a question. “Sure”

He felt noticeably warmer all of a sudden, and it had nothing to do with the fire. Newt caught his eye, looking up from his fingers and after a second of hesitation he smirked, a mischievous gleam lighting up his features. 

“You know?” He reached for the pot of honey, dipping the tips of two of his fingers in it. They came out covered in sticky amber goo that slid down to his palm as he brought his hand up to Theseus' lips. “We haven’t had any time together, safe and alone, since Abdera.”

“Hmm…” Theseus agreed, gently taking his wrist to keep his hand steady as he ran his tongue between the two fingers, and then over the sides, lapping at the honey and sucking it off. Newt’s mouth fell slightly open, pupils dilating in the orange light of the flames, his cheeks flushing a feverish red as Theseus kissed the inside of his palm and then his wrist, sticky and warm lips making their way up the inner side of his arm and shoulder right to his neck. “Come here” He whispered, winding an arm around Newt’s waist and pulling him closer, onto his own lap. Newt allowed himself to be manhandled and tilted his head, eyes closed and exposing his neck. Theseus smiled against his jugular, tenderly breathing in his scent, kissing, sucking and nibbling at the tender skin with single-minded devotion, hands roaming the expanse of his lover’s back. 

Newt’s chest rose as his breathing became deeper, coming out in sound, arhythmic exhales. His hands found their way into Theseus’ hair, gently combing through it until he pulled at a fistful to push Theseus’ mouth from his neck and kiss him. 

Theseus groaned into his mouth, answering to the kiss in earnest, tracing with his tongue Newt’s lips and letting himself be explored before taking control. He leaned forward, depositing Newt’s back on the furs without breaking the kiss, with only a fraction of his weight on top of Newt and the rest on his elbow he could feel every movement of the younger man’s body, the shape of his chest and stomach against his own, his hardening member trapped between their bellies… Newt pulled away, throwing his head back in a silent moan, and when he opened his eyes they were foggy with desire. 

“I want you inside of me.” He said, and Theseus’ heart skipped a beat. Newt had said exactly the same their first time. But now...

“Are you sure?” 

Newt nodded repeatedly “I know what they say about- but you won’t think less of me for wanting you.”

“No” Theseus kissed him “Not for this nor for anything else ever. I want you as well, you have no idea how much.” 

“Oh, I get an idea” Newt smirked and rolled his hips, the cleft of his butt dragging along Theseus’ manhood, who groaned and laid his forehead on Newt’s collarbone. He kissed the skin underneath his lips, hands finding Newt’s hips and holding them down as he kissed and suckled his way down. His desire burned holes in his patience, but he was determined to make this last, to enjoy every second of it, Newt’s body a beautiful dream under his, so responsive and eager. He dipped his tongue in Newt’s belly button and dragged his teeth down to the base of his groin, using his shoulders then to pin Newt’s hips down as his hands travelled up his sides, holding onto his underarms and starting to knead with his thumbs Newt’s nipples, on both sides, the little knobs firming and swelling under his ministrations as Newt threw his head back and moaned, his hand in Theseus’ hair twitching and pulling feebly. 

Theseus wanted to take him into his mouth, swallow him down and make him lose his mind, but he had another thing in mind. Bypassing Newt’s groin with a nuzzle he shifted, back, rearranging himself and lifting Newt’s legs over his own shoulders, he reached for the jar of honey, scooping a nice amount of sweet, amber goo, he sucked it off his fingers, keeping the honey in his mouth, not swallowing. 

“Thes, what are you?”

Theseus just smiled conspicuously. He kissed the skin of Newt’s inner thighs and nuzzled at the underside of his balls, mouth travelling lower over his perineum, leaving a trace of honey behind. He traced a circle around his opening and kissed the ring of muscles, starting to work his tongue in little by little, making a mess of saliva and honey that provided good lubrication. He started off slow, in and out, one of his hands spreading newt’s buttocks while the other coated his own aching cock in honey. Slowly, little by little diving deeper, opening him up and softening the resistance, twisting and turning his tongue within as Newt writhed and moaned over him, his thighs starting to shake. Theseus pushed as far as he could go until his tongue and lips ached, and he felt out of breath, which is when he withdrew and tried three fingers, that went in easily, accompanied by Newt’s approving sigh. He had taken to touching himself and greeted Theseus with a blissed smile and shining eyes, cheeks flushed and mouth red. 

“Please… “ He breathed out, and Theseus could have given him the stars in that very moment, but he couldn't resist teasing just a bit?

“You want it? Come and get it.” He encircled Newt with his arms and rolled them around, so the younger boy lay right on top of him, his spread legs on either side of Theseus’ hips. 

“Like this?” He rose to his knees, positioning himself over Theseus’ hard cock, one hand travelling around his back to hold the base. 

“That’s it, beautiful” Theseus rolled his hips experimentally, the tip of his member teasing the entrance. He brought his hand to help steady Newt’s whispering words of encouragement as his lover allowed himself to be breached, impaling himself on Theseus. 

Newt’s mouth fell open, head thrown back, as his insides filled up inch by inch. “Oh gods…” he whispered, body beginning to tremble as he sunk all the way down “Oh, wow…” 

“Are you okay?” Theseus managed, despite the fact that he could barely think straight, much less talk, and had to employ all his force of will towards staying still and letting Newt adjust. 

Newt nodded, falling forward with his elbows on top of Theseus’ chest. His hair hung over his face and a droplet of sweat ran down his nose dribbling on his clasped hands. 

“Oh wow…” He repeated, “I’m… very okay” shifting his hips a bit, experimentally. He buried his face in Theseus’ collarbone and did it again, panting heavily, which was about all Theseus could take. He encircled Newt in a hug and rolled his hips, his bent thighs pressing against Newt’s ass as he slowly moved inside him, the heat and tightness of Newt’s insides sending a current of pleasure from his dick up his spine that eclipsed his thoughts. 

Newt writhed and moaned in his grasp, biting on the skin in reach a few times before pushing up on his hands, his lithe body covered in sweat and love marks, as he rose almost to the top and fell down again, starting to ride Theseus with a plethora of pleasure sounds coming out of his mouth, his hands on Theseus’ chest leaving scratches that only added to the sensations. Theseus ran his fingers over his lover’s sides, thighs, and ass, kneading it with gusto as Newt bounced on his cock and he rose his hips to meet him. Finally, he found Newt’s member, heavy and full, bouncing between their bellies and started pumping it in time with their rhythm. He wanted so badly for Newt to come while riding him, and he was so, so close now. 

Luckily, Newt didn’t last much longer, his rhythm faltering and body tensing up as he spilled into Theseus’ hand with a broken cry. His elbows gave up and he crashed into Theseus who gathered him into a tight embrace and thrust into his body half a dozen times before his senses overloaded and he came inside Newt, vision going blank for a few seconds. 

They lay like that for minutes, gathering their breath. Theseus slipped out and immediately rolled them around, so he could cover newt with a piece of cloth. “How are you feeling?” He managed after a good quarter of an hour, when their hearts have calmed down. Newt mumbled his response incomprehensibly into this neck. “What?”

“Amazing… but sticky.”

Theseus grinned into his hair “Sorry, I didn’t want to hurt you. I guess we should clean ourselves while we are still warm.” 

“Noooo-” Newt whined “The water is coooooold”

Theseus couldn't help himself, he laughed. He laughed like he hadn’t in weeks, and Newt scowling up at him, doing his best to stiffen a smile didn’t help. Finally, the younger gave up and they ended up both on their backs laughing at god knows what in a fire-lit cave in the dead of the night. 

If only moments like that could last forever.

Chapter Text

Theseus stood waist deep in a river, in the middle of a red sunset. All around him the silence felt almost unnatural, the birds not singing, the winds still and almost nonexistent… as if nature itself had stopped breathing in expectation. But a voice spoke in his ear; a weak and barely understandable sound that could have been confused with water flowing between the gravel of the banks. “Nobody is left to remember me anymore. Nobody needs me. I shall go as well or pursue my brother’s fate. I choose to go, as they did.” 

And then, a wall of sound collapsed on top of Theseus as the world simultaneously lost a portion of its color. The breeze picked up wailing in grief and, somewhere far away, a gutural, unnatural roar of despair broke the skies. Theseus looked in that direction but only saw a crumbling heap of ruins outlined against the horizon, fiery red in the light of the eclipse as if they were still burning. The water around him became warmer, and when he looked down Theseus saw himself standing in a stream of rancid blood. 

He woke up with a scream caught in his throat, shaking and drenched in cold sweat. Instinctively, he patted besides him, looking for Newt in search of reassurance. However, the place besides him was empty. 

Theseus blinked the remains of the nightmare away from his eyes and  turned around, looking for Newt in the dark corners of the cave. It was empty, the ashes from last night’s fire smeared on the floor, as if somebody had carelessly walked over them. Newt’s bow and quiver were still there, as was his boarskin and tunic. 

Maybe he went outside to check on the horses? Theseus thought, but a dark and cold feeling descended into his gut. Throwing his own clothing over himself, Theseus took Newt’s in a heap in his arms and walked outside. It was still early morning, the heavy mist covering the forest in a blanket of eerie silver. The stream ran unbothered near the mouth of the cave and their horses slept under the same tree they’ve left them the night before. Theseus called out Newt’s name but only his echo and the snort of the startled horses answered him back. Newt’s ashy footsteps emerged under his feet and got lost in the grass, leaving barely an impression on the dew, but Theseus followed that direction, calling Newt’s name again and again. The still silence offering no answer back. He was really worried now, yelling higher and moving erratically through the forest, the cold and tiredness replaced by panic. Where could he have gone!? Why!? Newt knew better than to wander out… and naked?! In this cold? He called Newt’s name again, his voice breaking on a nervous sob, but that time the emptiness answered him. It wasn’t Newt’s voice, it was an animal sound, something like a scruffy howl or a bark, or maybe the neigh of a horse, or a big bird… Theseus ran in the direction it came from, fearful that some wild beast could have cornered Newt, he called out again and the distance answered again, now definitely more like a mixture between a groan and a howl. But when Theseus emerged to a clearing in front of the base of a hill peppered with low bushes and breaks in the limestone, he saw no animal, just Newt, naked and covered in scraps, apparently trying to climb into a crack. 

He threw his carry on the floor and hurried on, catching Newt’s elbow and dragging him away just before he could fall down. Newt’s whole body jerked like he’d just been shot by a flaming arrow and he squealed, frantically looking up at Theseus, then down the ditch and at his own body. 

“What-” He breathed out, eyes wide and startled like a cornered deer’s. 

“What were you doing ?” Theseus hugged him tight, the fear slowly seeping out of his bones replaced by irritation. “What the hell, Newt?!”

“I…” Newt seemed fascinated by his cuts and scratches. “I was following her, but… it was a dream.” He had started to tremble, his skin erupting in goosebumps from the damp cold. Theseus guided him to where he had thrown the clothes and helped him get dressed, but didn’t let go. 

“Following whom?” 

Newt still looked lost, eyes darting between Theseus and the crack in the hillslope. 

“A girl… she was floating in front of me, encouraging me to go with her, but… I thought I was dreaming… I felt nothing, as if I was not really there. She was telling me I had to come with her, that down this cavern was something I had to take back home-” He stepped away from Theseus in the direction to the crack. It was considerably bigger than the little ones covering the rest of the space, just at the base of the steep hill, with a tiny stream of water falling into its pitch black depths. Newt still seemed half-entranced by it. “We have to go down there.”

“Are you out of your mind?! You’ve just almost sleepwalked to your death!” 

“No, for real!” He turned, facing Theseus with a plea in his eyes. “There is something down there.”

Theseus shook his head, taking hold of Newt’s elbow just in case. “It’s the ghosts of Troy, dear. They are messing with us, we’ve been warned this could happen here.” 

“She didn’t seem hostile, just a young girl and she said it was important for Athens. Thes, I’m serious. I don’t know why or how to explain it… but we need to find it.” He swallowed tight and there was something about the determined set of his jaw, the raw urgency in his eyes… Theseus knew he would not let it go without a fight. 

“Wait over there,” he ordered, pointing at the big oak on the other end of the clearing “don’t you dare to go anywhere near that place until I’m back. Place your hand on the bark and don’t let go, no matter what happens. I don’t care if it’s some little girl, an old woman, our mother or the king of the Gods himself who tells you to move, don’t take one single step towards that cave. Stay still and guide me with your voice, focus on me, okay?” 

Newt agreed and took up position. Theseus gave him one last, extra-stern glance, and ran back to their camp, following his own footsteps in the fading dew. He grabbed a couple of loops of rope from his supplies, put on his sandals, and picked up Newt’s. He came back, periodically checking with Newt, who had, for once, stuck to his word and hadn’t moved from the oak. Shoes on and one end of the rope tied to the nearest tree’s trunk, Theseus turned to Newt. 

“One last chance to-” Newt walked past him, grabbed the rope and started to descend. He used his feet as leverage at first, but the wall was too steep and slippery to work, so he ended up lowering himself by the rope itself until Theseus could barely see the outlines of his white tunic in the darkness. A wet stomp followed by an “I’m down” told him that Newt had safely reached the bottom. 

“What do you see?!” He called into the crack. 

“It’s dark in here, but I- oh damn is this? AAaah!!” 

Newt cried out in surprise and horror and Theseus didn’t even think it twice. He grabbed the rope and jumped in, trying to get down as quickly as possible, but he jostled it too much and somewhere on the edge of the rocks the rope snapped, causing him to plumpet the last few feet into the cavern. 

He landed on his butt painfully, rolling on his side and directly into a bed of stagnant water. It covered the floor, raising to ankle level and felt gelid and putrid, slimy to the touch. Newt materialized on his side, calling him an idiot, and Theseus grunted in denial before he remembered why he’d dived into that mess. 

“What happened?!” He asked, jumping to his feet and frantically looking around. Down there it was almost too dark to see anything, but as his eyes adapted just enough Theseus understood, stiffening a horrified cry himself. 

The cave was full of bones. 

Mostly of forest animals that must have fallen and couldn't get out; wild pigs and tiny deer, wolf cubs and squirrels… but also humans. At least four or five skeletons partially cleaned down to the bone, their rib cages filled with trash and skulls overturned, bottomless, empty eye sockets fixated on the light above. 

For a second, Theseus stood there frozen in a wave to irrational terror, then, Newt stepped aside and pointed towards the far back of the cavern, where another human skeleton sat prompted against a corner. It was smaller than the rest and the position had preserved the cloak draped over its shoulders. 

“It’s her.” Both brothers said almost in unison, and stared at each other. 

“It’s the girl from my dream,” Newt said “it’s her cloak.” 

Theseus didn’t answer. Stepping over someone’s pelvis he approached the skeleton, carefully unclasping the chest button. The pile of bones crumbled under his hand, but he was left with the half-rotten cloak in his hands. A momentary glimpse caught his eye and something fell from an inner pocket into the water. 

Newt picked it up and turned it towards the feeble light.

It was a coin of some sorts, but the metal looked unreal; too reddish to be gold, but too shiny to be bronze. It seemed to emanate its own light, even after so many decades surrounded by rot, glowing spotless and warm to the touch. The shape of a snake biting its own tail made up the edge and each face was engraved with the picture of an owl. 

“The mark of Athena” Theseus breathed out reverently. This… this couldn’t be- right? The missing piece-”

Newt shook his head in wonder, opening and closing his mouth. “It’s just a legend, isn’t it? Spread to mitigate the shame after the loss of the Palladium.” He looked up at Theseus “How did you know to look for it?” 

Theseus relied his dream from weeks ago in full detail; Troy’s disgraced seer Cassandra, prompting a slave girl dressed in that peculiarly sewn green cloak to take something valuable outside of the city because it was not its place anymore, because it needed to find a new home some day, and the city exploding in fire underneath right after. 

Newt looked unnaturally pale even in the darkness of the cave, his body trembling finely as his eyes stared somewhere behind the walls of rock. “I think I understand now.” he mumbled. "The last line..."

Theseus touched his shoulder and shook him slightly. “Newt, are you alright? You understand what?”

Newt refocused on him, shaking his head. “I’m not sure yet, I will tell you once I am, but we better take this with us and get out of here.” 

Now, that proved to be a problem. 

The rope that they’d used to get down was broken, laying in a heap of coils under the spot of light. Theseus tried to climb out using his arms and legs, like he’d been trained to do in case he ever fell into a well, but the stone was too slippery. Newt started getting nervous, looking at the human skeletons laying around and Theseus knew they were thinking the same about how the poor bastards had died. Probably the ghost lured them in as well and they weren’t able to get out. That couldn't happen to them too, right? Not after everything they went through and got so far. 

“Use me as a ladder.” He proposed, presenting his linked palms for Newt to step on “Try to reach the edge.” 

“It’s too high up.” Newt protested, but did as he was told, climbing up to stand on Theseus' shoulders and raising up on tip-toes, his sandal soles digging painfully into Theseus' bones. “I can’t-”

“Stop scowling” He gritted his teeth, “Try to-” 

“I’m not scowling!” Newt protested, voice strained from to effort. “There’s something- WHAT THE?!” His surprised cry out was so startling that Theseus almost collapsed under him. But there was no alarm in his voice just a genuine awe as he repeated squeakily “what? how?!” 

A loud and cheerful bark answered him from above. 

Silhouetted against the light of the outside world, looking as dorkly and carefree as ever, was the giant head of… Fido. 

The dog barked again, and panted happily, reaching down with his muzzle but unable to reach Newt to lick him. 

“Fido how did you get here?!” Newt yelled, seemingly having forgotten temporarily about his current position. Theseus grumbled, wobbling dangerously. 

Fido barked again and disappeared from view, returning a second later with the other end of the rope, that had jumped out of the cavern when the whole thing had snapped. He threw it in and Newt managed, just barely, to reach it, using his arms to precariously climb to the surface. He threw his leg over the edge and rolled out. All Theseus could hear were loud panting, barking, and laughter, alongside with Newt’s happy squeaks. “Oh my Gods how? Hahahah! Aah- my face!” sputtering and gagging “Fido no! HHAHAHAHA!!! Stop!! Don’t lick my feet now! You giant oaf! I missed you so much!”

“Um… GUYS!” Theseus called out, waving from the bottom of the crack. “I’m still here!” 

“Coming now!” Newt fumbled up there for a bit and lowered him the rest of the rope. “Be careful now!” 

Together they managed to pull Theseus up, who was assaulted by drool the moment he came up into god’s light. 

Ouff! He didn’t even complain, laying down on the floor with Fido fussing over him and jumping between the two of them. Finally he sat down on his hindquarters, tail thumping the ground so brutally it was almost trembling, and half barked-half houled in a way that made Theseus sit up immediately. 

“Wait! It was you this morning! You were here!?” Between the echo of the forest and his own panic he hadn’t recognized the sound that guided him to where Newt was as Fido’s, but it was so obvious now. Fido, reasonably, didn’t confirm nor deny the accusation, panting and drooling happily as always, but Theseus was positive.

“ How exactly did you get here?” He asked, narrowing his eyes at the dog. He probably wouldn't be any more surprised if the animal just spoke with human voice to explain himself, but he didnt. 

“He obviously followed us.” Newt leaned forward to wrap his arms around the beast’s thick neck, rubbing his cheek on the fur between Fido’s ears. “Who’s the best tracker? Whooois the beeest tracker doggo?” Fido barked cheerfully “Yes, you are!” 

“For two weeks? Across the hellespont?” 

“He is a very good swimmer. Yes you areee… and very smart! Who is the smartest boy? You are the smartest boy!” 

“Newt-” Theseus wasn’t sure why he was feeling so uneasy all of a sudden. Fido had been following Newt wherever he went for a decade now. Ever since Newt found the abandoned puppy at the temple he lived in with his caretakers. He was big, strong, fast, smart and loyal to a ridiculous degree. It wouldn't even be the first time he disobeyed an order to stay put and trotted discreetly behind his owner, as if he knew he wasn’t supposed to do that. Still… between the impossible feat of tracking the two of them on horseback for two weeks and the convenience of the rescue… 

“Now who’s scowling?” Newt pouted, chin resting on the Top of Fido’s head. But when their eyes met, his gaze turned more serious, and Theseus realised Newt was thinking the same things he did, but played into his own excuses, just in case. Never before had he been suspiscious of Fido, of all creatures. But... 

They walked back to their camp, Fido trotting and jumping happily a few meters ahead, turning from time to time to look at them to make sure they were following. 

“Do you think it’s another trap from the spirits of this place? An apparition?” Theseus whispered to Newt. "Is it even your dog?" 

“Felt real enough” Newt shook his head. "And he has all his spots and marks." He took out the coin branded with the owl symbol, it glistened reddish gold between his fingers “Do you think the Palladium helped?”

“And did what? Transport a single dog from Abdera to here? Besides, it can’t be the real thing, can it?”

Newt frowned, trying to remember the story. “For ten years the troops of our allies sieged Troy, but it couldn’t be breached as long as the Palladium remained in it. The luck of troy, the wooden statue carved into the image of the Goddess Athena. It had fallen from the sky dozens of generations ago. However, Athena supported us in that war, and the grace she had bestowed upon Troy’s ancestors ran out, which is why she spoke to the Achaeans through the mouth of Helenus, and told them that as long as the Palladium remained within the city walls it would not fall to an army. So Odysseus and Diomedes entered Troy through one of its secret passages and stole the statue, aided by Helen herself.”

Theseus nodded “Aeneas then re-stole it and carried it overseas, but Diomedes kept claiming until the day of his death that the statue was incomplete, that when they took it a piece was missing from the chest, as if a medal or a talisman should have been embedded in it. But my father always told us it was a legend for the populace, that Diomedes was just embarrassed about losing the statue. Troy fell, after all, the horse plan worked and the whole city burned to the ground with an ease that after ten years of siege felt unbelievable.” 

Newt brought the coin up to the light, that seemed to bend and dance around it. “I don’t know, Thes. But whether this is the real palladium or not-”

Fido’s barking interrupted them. He was running circles around the horses and Theseus realized they’d come back to the camp. 

Newt put the coin away, smiling up at him. “We should get going. I would prefer to reach the ruins before nightfall.”

Chapter Text

The sun had barely reached its peak when Theseus had to face his second grave challenge of the day. He pulled on the reigns, staring ahead at the picturesque landscape, suddenly nauseous. Newt turned on his horse, realizing that he had stopped and shot him a worried look. Theseus shook his head, swallowing down the knot in his throat and waved at the pain in front of them. It crept in a smooth expanse of grass and pebbles towards the banks of the river Simoeis, that meandered around the hill on top of which the ruins of Troy rose in shadows. 

Theseus had seen this exact perspective before, but tinted in red. However, the water of the thin and swallow river ran clean and clear, reflecting the blue sky, carrying only the water from the mountains, not blood. 

He relied his nightmare to Newt, wondering if there was any old bridge nearby. Newt shook his head. 

“If there was one, it must have fallen long ago. But you probably just saw remnants of the war, like in that dream of Cassandra and the slave. It should be alright to cross. Look-” 

Fido had rushed ahead and jumped straight into the stream, splashing around like a happy puppy. His enthusiasm certainly took the edge off the creepiness of the scene. 

Theseus still didn’t like it one bit though, flinching when his feet touched the gelid water, hurrying his horse across faster than the poor animal would have liked, even if the deepest end barely reached his knees. The river in his dreams had looked much wider and deeper, spanning twice the width of what it was today, and no voices whispered in his ear, but Theseus was still glad to be out of it.

They ascended the slope in silence. It was a gentle, short and easy ride, but the tension in the air seemed to slow them down. The once mighty and impenetrable walls of the city, now ruinous, unkempt and dark, loomed in front of them, silhouetted in front of the clear sky and the gleam of the sea behind it. Troy had once guarded a privileged position; nestled between two deltas, overlooking the massive bay and isthmus that the Achaeans had used as a harbor for ten years. The side they’ve come from led back to the hills and forests, while the other was covered in salt marshes and white gravel banks that surrounded the southern river almost as far as the eye could see. 

“The bridges of war” Newt whispered as they came into view, “drenched in barrels of blood from Trojans and Achaeans alike. Are you sure that’s not the one you’ve seen in your dream?”

“No” Theseus was positive “But I don’t know which one is worse.” 

They were stalling, they both knew that. After so many months of hardships and travel they finally stood in front of the gates of Troy. Gates that gaped open, cracked and burned, that offered no resistance except for their meaning. And that resistance felt more powerful than any wood or bronze. 

“So, should we go in?” Newt asked quietly “What’s your plan?”

Theseus almost turned to him, but caught himself in time. He wouldn't have known how to look at his brother anyway. What has his plan? Well, when the young, naive and overly-enthusiastic prince Theseus decided to embark on this quest, his plan had been ridiculously simple: sail to Troy, which of course wouldn’t be imposing or haunted or creepy at all, spend a couple of days or maybe weeks digging around the ruins with the entire crew of the ship as backup, find the sword, return to Athens in glory and prove to his dad that he was not a useless party accessory, that he was brave and worthy of his bloodline. 

Afterwards, when they decided to leave Abdera, Theseus had been so focused on the dangers of the journey that he didn’t even think about what they would do once they reached Troy itself. Now, he had no ship or crew, no reckless enthusiasm, no bandits to fight, no father, and no actual plan. 

For the first time he realized the enormity of the task he’d set up for himself. Troy had been the greatest city of its age, enormous, rich and powerful. It had fallen as hard as it’d lived, layers upon layers of rock, rumble and ash burying human bodies and weapons underneath them. What kind of idiot had thought he could search a place like that and find a single sword in less than a hundred years?

Oh right, him. 

For the first time he’d wondered if his wise but late father had actually believed in his plan, or had he just wanted to send Theseus away? Maybe expecting him to settle in one of the islands on the way and get married, or just spend a few months in Troy until he got bored and the troubles back at home had passed so he could return to a safer Athens? 

“Thes…” Newt reached over to lay a hand on his arm, his warmth seeping in through Theseus' cloak. “It’s okay. We will figure something out. Now let’s go inside. The sun is starting to set.”

Easier said than done, when they tried to cross the entrance their horses rebelled. They kept whining and shaking their necks, stubbornly refusing to move forward. With a few curses, Newt used a few feet or robe to tie their reigns together so they had the freedom to roam around but wouldn't run too far away. At least Fido agreed to come along and even was nice enough to carry some supplies slung over his back. 

Walking through the destroyed city, at that time of day, it was easy to imagine her burning, the red light flickering like blaze over the skeletons of charred buildings. The street they followed had probably been the main artery of Troy back in the day, where citizens and soldiers walked in hoards, kids played games, and merchants set up their shops. Now it was full of potholes and rubble, entire buildings, rotten wood and piles of shattered clay bricks obstructing the way. 

Luckily, plants managed to grow out, moss and weeds sprouting from the ground, rooftops and walls. It should have helped but instead the stillness in the air felt even more suffocating, highlighting the absence of animals and birds, instead filling the city with the smell of nauseatingly sweet, heavy perfume. As if Persephone herself was trying to claim the place with obsessive frustration. 

It would have made sense. More than once Theseus thought he had stepped on a root, but when he looked down it turned out to be a brittle bone. How many people had died here and never received a proper burial? How many souls that belonged to the underworld but were unable to cross the Acheron? If he concentrated he thought he could hear their whispers, feel their hollow eyes following him from the shadows. 

“I don’t know where to start.” Theseus finally confessed, looking around the ghostly ruins surrounding them. “According to my great-uncle we should be searching on the southern side of the main road, but that’s all. This… this is too much of a ground to cover and… I don’t feel so good.”

Newt nodded, his face pale even in the sunset light, he was jumpy as well and kept sneaking nervous glances at the shadows. 

“This place is overflowing with otherworldly energy. I think we should take cover in sacred ground before night falls.” 

Theseus nodded “any ideas?” 

Newt pointed at the highest point of the hill, further up the road, where several temples and shrines were still recognizable despite their ruined state. 

They took refuge in the temple of Athena just as night fell completely over them, and ate some bread with apples in the moonlight. There was nothing to make a fire with and even if the heat from Fido and their clothes were enough to keep them warm, Theseus missed the comfort of light. In the darkness, even in the temple of his patron Goddess, the shadows seemed to close on them, almost tangible and viscerally malevolent, as if the slain Trojans could smell their western blood and yearned for revenge. Newt was trembling finely in his embrace, even if he stubbornly declared to be alright. Theseus kissed him, time and time again, trying to distract both of them from their surroundings, trying to focus on the feeling of togetherness and love and support. 

Yesterday, at that same time, they were making love in a safe cave, warm and satiated and content for the first time in weeks, having fun together, exploring and experimenting, pledging themselves to each other in body and soul. Tonight couldn’t be more different. 

Fido kept growling somewhere into the night, but even if that was worrying and his reappearance still put Theseus on edge, the familiar presence of the dog, mixed with their own exhaustion was what allowed them both to fall asleep. It had been a long, complicated day but, just as it had began with a nightmare, it also ended with one. 

In his dreams, Theseus saw the memories of these stones. A tapestry of lament and gore, of a decade of endless war and siege, of hunger and plague, and finally, of the night everything went downhill. The stones saw it all: they saw the disgrace of Cassandra and her cruel fate; they saw Helen triumphant, joyous and finally free or her captors; they saw Achilles fall dead from an arrow in his foot; they saw the gates open to let the Achaean army in; they saw Trojans run and hide for their lives; they saw bodies pile up on the pavement… Theseus felt like he was trying to run through streets covered in blades as the hands of dying Trojans tried to grab his feet and pull him down with them, but he wasn’t there, not really, he kept being saved by flashes of reddish gold light and transported somewhere else, blending with the stones and the walls, seeing what they saw that night. Witnessing in first person the end of their era.

But one particular set of stones saw something else. It saw a young boy helping his mother and baby sister flee the massacre, running under one of the city walls. On his way he noticed a sword hilt peeking from under a pile of rubble. On the pommel a crest gleamed in the firelight; an owl with an olive branch. The kid tried to lift it up, but it was stuck, and then his mother cried out-

Theseus woke up with a startle. His mouth was dry and his throat felt like it had been stuffed with cotton. His entire body ached, and he was shivering from cold, but the sun was already rising. He allowed himself a second of peace, trying to soak up the energy of dawn but he still felt more agitated and exhausted than before his sleep, the images of his nightmares clinging to his awoken conscience. He looked down at Newt curled against his side and barely held in a cry. Newt’s legs, every part that he could see not covered by his clothes, were peppered with stripes and spots of blues. 

His reaction startled Newt, who woke up as well, looking around frantically. Theseus tried to stand up but a jolt of pain shot up his left foot. A dark shape, like a hand that had tried to grope his ankle but slid down, flourished among a collection of smaller bruises. 

Fido whimpered pitifully and Theseus turned to look at him. The poor dog looked extremely tired as well, eyes sunk in and nose dry. He had clawed the stone floor in front of him and a sparkling of white hair had appeared around his snout overnight. 

“I… I don’t think the ghosts of Troy want us here.” Newt spoke with small, raspy voice.

“They do. Just not alive.” 

Reluctantly, Theseus relied his dreams and Newt grimaced. He'd had the same experience, but the part about the kid trying to free a sword caught his attention. 

“An owl and an olive branch? That’s the crest of the royal house of Athens! At least nowadays.”

“It was so back then as well. And well before… legend says it dates back to the great contest between Athena and Poseidon. However, my dad told me it had been the predecessor of king Aegeus the first in our line to use it.”

“Do you think it was the same sword we are looking for?” 

Theseus shrugged, and even that small motion felt tiring and sore. “I hope so. We know it was lost along the southern side, and unless that kid, or someone else, managed to pick it up, it may still be near the city wall.”

“What if it’s a trap, from the spirits?” Newt frowned, looking down at his legs. Theseus considered that. 

“I don’t know, but we have to start somewhere, right?” 

It was true, unfortunately. As they left the sparse cover of the temple of Athena, the city seemed to weight on them, the heavy breeze carrying whispers from the shadows. The sound of their own steps startling in its echo. As they made their way back towards the wall Newt, who couldn’t take the silence anymore, started to sing. 

It was an old song, that Theseus remembered from his childhood, a lullaby that every kid in Athens grew bored of by the time they were ready to go to sleep alone. It spoke of the war between the Gods and the Titans, in a child-friendly manner. However, while the traditional song portrayed the Titans as evil brutes and the gods as benevolent intellectuals, Newt’s version equated the two and even spoke of the Titans as rightful defenders of their place. Theseus remembered that when Newt was of the age to need lullabies he was still being raised by their mother, a titaness herself and a daughter of Hyperion, playing housewife to a mortal. She and her siblings, the sun and the moon, might have been spared from the wrath of Zeus, but their father was not. Figures Eos would have taught her children a different version, might have even sung it to Theseus at some point, because some parts of that song sounded weirdly familiar. 

In general, Newt’s singing voice might not have been any miracle, but it lifted a bit his mood and seemed to push back the earyness of dead Troy, at least for a while. 

They spent the rest of the morning looking around the edgemost part of the southern city, right under the once impenetrable wall, trying to locate the exact spot Theseus had seen in his vision, a similar corner, or an identical mount of rubble. More than once Theseus thought he’d found it, jumping to piles of fallen bricks and shoving them aside only to come up with more dirt or a set of crushed human ribs. But by the time afternoon rolled around, accompanied by a blanket of dark clouds obscuring the sun, both the memory of the dream and his strength had nearly faded completely. He stared in dismay at the alley ahead as Newt collapsed cross-legged on the ground and closed his eyes against the drops that had began to fall from the sky, the rain turning the dust and dirt on his arms and face into a dark brown sludge. 

They took refuge under the remains of a porch that seemed to be holding up with dry moss and pure stubbornness, Theseus leaning on the stub of a column and Newt laying between his legs, his back against Theseus' chest. They munched on the remains of their supplies watching Fido splash around under the rain. At least the sound of it drowned out the whispers from the shadows.

“We can’t spend another night here.” Newt said, his hand gently tracing the fading blues on Theseus' ankle. “They might kill us. Besides, we have no food left except some apples. Not even for ourselves, much less to give Fido.”

Theseus nodded. “What do you propose?” 

Newt nodded towards the wall “The spit, where our armies had their camp, across the Bridges of War and the river’s plains. It’s what? An hour away by foot? I should be able to hunt and fish there and if there’s any luck it will be less hostile towards our kind, we could set camp there and only return here to look for the sword.”

Theseus was all too happy to agree. The rainfall stopped just as soon as it had began and he denied Newt’s offer to search further for the day. They would only get more muddy and he was in desperate need for a fire and a few hours of rest, and what’s more important, Newt looked like he would fall over any minute. Besides, due to the clouds it was getting really dark sooner than it should have. He wasn’t in any mood to get caught by night within this cursed city again. Leaving the gates felt like breathing in air for the first time in two days. 

The Bridges of War, a three-mile long expanse of gravel plains and salt marshes surrounded the river banks and the delta, level and wide as the eye could see except for the metallic grey of the sea in the horizon. The two of them walked down the slope from Troy, with Fido trotting behind, relieved to be on the open again. Yet the significance of the ground they were stepping on wasn’t lost to either man. 

“This is where most of the battles transpired” Newt mused under his breath “All the glorious stories we’ve been told about.” 

“Don’t seem so glorious now.” Theseus looked over his shoulder at the ruined city, a shiver running down his spine. 

Newt agreed. They were on the banks of the river now, that looked wider and more abundant than its brother on the other side. Something about it didn’t sit right with Theseus either, but he decided it must have been leftover nerves from the morning. However, Newt stopped, his face haunted as his sea-green eyes examined the water a few feet ahead. 

“I don’t think we should just cross it like the other one. This river… its energy, feels poisonous. And, if the stories are about to be believed-” 

Theseus looked between the two of them, and then Fido, that was saying a few feet back, groaning and showing his canines. 

“There’s no bridge.” He pointed out. “We either cross or camp out here.”

Newt shook his head “According to the recountings there should be a spot down near the sea where it becomes knee deep. I would prefer to cross it there. 

“Okay, let’s do that then.” Theseus agreed, winding his arm around Newt’s waist and starting to walk downstream. Newt was a trained priest, more attune to the divine and the otherworldly. No matter how much he wanted to rest he wouldn't argue with him in a place like that. Besides “I remember the stories about this river and its god, how he fought on the side of the Trojans.” 

“Yes, even tried to kill Achilles three times, all three of them the hero had needed to be saved by his divine protectors.” 

Theseus nodded. “I even remember your father liked to tell us this particular one, about the time Achilles and Sca-” 

A̶̖͕͎͓̟͓ͪͭc̸̟̐̒ͣ͑h̙͇͍̦͎͚ȋ̹̹͍̥̻̭ͧl̰͌ͪ̀ͣ̉l̮̝̾̅ͅͅͅe̳̜̲̼ͫͫs̨̮̺͍͎̹ͥ̉̓ͣͣ?͙̃͌͂͛

All the hairs on his body stood up. That voice that just came from behind them… it sounded like the slither of a snake, a wave chasing, and a hateful wail all at once. So unnatural and alien it barely registered as a voice, but it was a voice unmistakingly. Fido started barking and howling, but it felt as if all the other sounds had been drowned in the the water. 

Slowly, Theseus turned around. The flow of the river itself had stopped and now was gurgling in the middle like a steaming pot, taking shape and substance as a humanoid form the size of a bear emerged from it, a head and shoulders forming from foam and a livid face from the algae, narrow eyes as white as marble targeted on them. Newt screamed and stumbled backwards, slipping and falling on his ass, but Theseus stood frozen in place, unable to believe his own sight-

As the god Scamander rose over them.

Chapter Text

He was as dark as the night waters and radiated malice and rot. And when he spoke, his words broke the air like a rainfall of spikes.

“Dishonored, abandoned, forgotten… we were left in oblivion, because Achilles, Odysseus, the Achaeans... They came here and took everything, and only left some of their blood, I smell it, my brother I smell Achaean blood, they have returned… they want to finish us, my brother!”

With a hurricane of gurgling water pooling under his waist the god turned monster leaned forward as if sniffing the air that carried their scent. Theseus managed enough control of his body to take one step back. That action seemed to alarm Scamander, his pure, white eyes opened wide and he screeched at them, the waters around him swirling faster until a myriad of sparks rose among the mud and slime. 

“The Achaean  scum! They will not escape me! Not this time! I prepared for this! Oh my brother you told me I was mad but I’m prepared now.” 

With a sinking feeling of absolute and paralyzing dread Theseus watched dozens… no, hundreds of weapons emerge from the river bed, wielded by tendrils of water, they turned their blades in his and Newt’s general direction. Over a decade of lost — Achaean  and Trojan — swords, daggers, spears, arrows, and broken shards of pointy garbage. The crazy god had hoarded them all, waiting for the moment an unsuspecting westerner would dare to approach his course. 

“I rose on the path on Achilles, three times, and three times his gods saved him, nobody will save him now! No Olympian will, my brother!” 

He laughed, a heart-shattering, dark sound, and his form morphed, losing its resemblance to anything human for a few seconds, before reforming, half as recognizable as before. If anything, the amorphism made him look even more grotesque. 

Run something spoke in Theseus's mind, and he obeyed, dragging Newt up by the collar, but before he could orchestrate his own legs a flood of water swept him off his feet and dragged them both into the river course. A thick sprout of water, like a giant squid’s tentacle, held them prisoner several feet over ground level, back to back. Theseus struggled, Scamander’s giant face looming a palm’s measure over his own. Up close he reeked even more of putrid fish and stagnancy, his toothless mouth like a dark hole of slime and grime. 

He was hissing and giggling, mumbling inconsistently to someone who wasn’t there about revenge and death, but kept gurgling on this own words, his form breaking and reforming. Even the tendrils of water that kept the weapons pointed towards them failed sometimes, dropping the blades and raising them anew. Theseus was terrified but through his dread he realized that it was not on purpose. The God was weak, really weak. Maybe they even had a chance to escape. Newt sobbed through his own anguish, laboring to breathe in, but Theseus tried the pressured bonds holding them hostage. 

“Puny stupid Achaean  what are you doing!? I will crush you! I will shred you-!

There, the next time his form’s integrity flickered, Theseus managed to free one of his arms. He opened his hand, expecting nothing but to make a fist and punch through that slimy mug the next time it got close, but yearning for something more and, unexpectedly, found his fingers closing around the grip of a sword, it had just flown into his hand and he barely had a millisecond to register the rusted owl on the pommel before instinctively slicing with the blade through Scamander’s body. The cut left a brilliant trail that started to steam like a sulfuric crack on the side of a volcano. Scamander howled in pain and dropped them, his humanoid shape dissolving and shooting into the skies as a column of an enraged tornado. Theseus plummeted hard onto the river bed, consistent of gravel and metal. Newt fell by his side, coughing and holding his throat. 

“Go! Go, go!” Theseus yelled at him, pushing himself upwards, they had maybe another fraction of a second while Scamander was distracted, he grabbed Newt by the arm and pulled him towards the shore. They scrambled out of the riverweed and the pebbles onto the grass and tried to make a run for it, but the water crashed violently into their backs. Theseus rolled around and attempted to slice at it again, but a wave shook him so hard he lost all the air in his lungs and the sword flew out of his hand all the way to the other bank. 

The river God, now reformed, emerged over them again, his hundreds of weapons at the ready, and this time Theseus was empty handed. He tried to summon the sword again but somehow knew he was too far. Scamander let out an insane screech that shook the ground and his tendrils hurled all the blades towards them. As a last instinctual feat, Theseus tried to cover Newt’s body with his own, expecting certain death in a fraction of a second. But then a heavy weight jumped on them both and a sudden burst of reddish gold light, as intense as the sun and searing hot, blinded him, both in sight and to the world. 

***

When Theseus woke up it was to the delicious scent of roasting fish. For a second he was afraid that the stench of Scamander would have ruined his appetite forever, but nope! His stomach grumbled demandingly and he rolled over towards the little bonfire that threw delicate ambers into the evening sky. Newt sat next to it, turning over a bass pierced on a stick, barbecue-style. His clothes were ragged and he had a nasty new bruise wrapping around his throat, but otherwise he looked unharmed and in good spirits. He smiled at Theseus and waved him over. 

“Where did you get the fish?”

“Caught it.” He handed Theseus a piece from a pile that had already been cooked and was cooling on the side. Theseus dug into it and almost moaned from pleasure. He had had his last hot and fresh meal three days ago but it seemed like an eternity had passed. He devoured the thing almost entirely before his brain caught up to him. 

Right… Troy, Scamander, the cascade of blades. 

He put down the fish and frowned at Newt, wondering if they were both afterlife illusions, but the other man just gestured into the air. 

“Look around.”

That was obviously the first thing Theseus should have done, which was just more proof of how hungry he’d been. 

They were sitting on a grassy beach, under the shadow of a broken wooden structure that upon closer inspection looked like the inside of an overturned belly of a ship, half buried in the sand. All around them similar wreckage parts emerged here and there. A few dozen feet away the remnants of cabins and structures lay half-destroyed and forgotten. Broken shields, armor pieces and spears scattered about… it was as ghostly as Troy, but not nearly as hostile. In fact, Theseus felt calm and safe. 

“Is this…?”

“The Achaean camp.” Newt confirmed. “I looked around a bit but didn’t want to move you.”

“How long have I been asleep?” 

“I woke up right where I am sitting earlier today, around noon. I think we’ve been unconscious at least since last night, when-” He waved in the general direction of the river “Scamander.” 

“Well, I feel rested.” It was the shocking truth. 

“Yeah, me too. Thank the Gods this place doesn’t want to kills us. If there are any ghosts at all here I think they recognize us as their own.”

He offered Theseus another fish once the one he was working on was done, so he could pick a juicy bass for himself. They restarted their meal with the most important question hanging heavy in the air. How did we survive?

But clearly, neither of them had the answer to that, and if anything the long road had taught them it was that food was primordial to anything else, specially, grim speculation. 

A few minutes later the nearby rocks barked and Fido appeared from behind them, cheerful and apparently not bothered by the fact that his snout was covered in blood. 

“Hey boy,” Newt lifted his arm so the dog could snuggle under it and lay his head next on his owner’s lap “didn’t you bring any rabbit for us too?” 

Fido panted happily, ignoring the question. 

“Do you think it was the Palladium?” 

It took Theseus a moment to realize that the question was directed at him, and not at Fido, and yet another few seconds to understand what exactly Newt was asking. He put the remains of his fish down, finally feeling satiated and warm. 

“I don’t think so.” It was difficult to remember the sensation itself, the weight on his back, a blink before the supposed end of all, and then the searing heat and a flash of light. That light… the more Theseus tried to remember it the more confusing it became. One moment he was on the banks of Scamander, another he was drowning at sea, in the middle of a storm, or running a fever in a Thracian town after a fatal wound. “I… I think someone or something out there is looking out for us-” It was a crazy idea and a stupidly positive one, the kind of positivity that could get a man killed “-and I hope it still does when I have to go back to face Scamander again.”

Newt dropped the head of his bass. “You… what?!”

Theseus recalled to him everything that happened during the fight, while Newt was busy getting strangled by a tentacle of water. The way he had called one particular sword to his hand, marked with the same banner he’d grown up under, and how it left a visible wound on the crazed God. 

“It has been in my family for generations, and just as I suspected, it’s full of power. Moreover, it was used to slay the Minoan bull, a creature both divine and monstrous. What are the chances it developed a connection to Tartarus? Or to wherever immortals go when they dissolve? Like… like where the other river god went, Simoeis. I- I think I saw him die, in that dream I had. Remember what mother told us once — gods and spirits just… disappear, when they are forgotten, when there’s no more use for them. People still remember Scamander sometimes when they sing praise of Achilles, but nobody remembers Simoeis. And there’s definitely nobody in Troy left to venerate the rivers that gave the city life. Scamander is weak, insane and suffering. He couldn’t even keep a solid form yesterday. I- I think I can do it. I have no choice, I need to get that sword back, it’s very powerful.”

“It also has a nag for getting lost.” 

“I should be able to call it again if I’m close enough. I also need to prove myself worthy of wielding it. ” 

“Or die. Which we both almost did yesterday.” Newt was frowning so much his sea-green eyes looked stormy grey. “Thes, this is crazy!”

“I know.” He wanted to protest, to accuse Newt of not believing in him, but even as he had spoken his plan he was terrified of it. He was risking another face-to-face battle with a literal god that almost tore him to shreds, no matter how weakened. “But the only reason we got this far is to get that sword, we can’t give up now.” 

Newt still looked grim and unconvinced, but he rummaged through his clothes and brought out the supposed Palladium, still as shiny and not bigger than a coin, turning it in his hands with intense concentration. Theseus could almost hear his brain churning and, not for the first time, he got the impression that Newt was working on understanding a picture that he couldn’t even see yet. 

Finally, he put it away and scrambled towards Theseus, hugging him tightly. A little bit surprised, Theseus returned the hug, burying his face in the crook of Newt’s neck, arms around the lithe form of his lover and companion. 

“I’m afraid you’re right” Newt mumbled into his hair “I hate it, so, so much, I hate it and I want to stop you, but you’re right. You need to kill Scamander.”

“Not if I don’t have to.”

Newt pulled away, sighing. His eyes were rimmed in red and worried, but certain. “I believe you actually do. And I think you’ll do him a mercy.” 

He didn’t elaborate, opting instead to lie his head on his lover’s shoulder, and Theseus didn’t dare to ask. They made love under the stars that night and Theseus tried to ignore the note of finality that hung in the air, to soothe the fear he tasted in Newt’s kisses. He wanted to reassure his beloved, to promise that everything would be fine, but how could he comfort another when his own heart was coated in a thick layer of dread? 

Chapter Text

When Theseus hit seventeen he decided it was time to officially become a man. He considered that he looked like one, strong and tall; walked like one, no longer a child that felt overwhelmed by the crowds of Athens; and wanted to be one, to find his purpose in life, no matter that everyone still thought him a spoiled brat of a prince with a teenager’s face and the attention span of a toddler. He had a very wise, just and affectionate tutor, but didn’t feel like submitting to him, his command and responsibility anymore. He wanted to take his own decisions and answer for himself in his own voice. 

Which is why he’d approached Auxentios after breakfast one morning with a pair of scissors and his hair down. His tutor barely looked up from his correspondence, but Theseus knew he’d stopped reading. " Are you sure?" He’d asked. It was considered a show of friendship, respect and gratitude between Athenian nobility, to ask one’s tutor to do the honors. It was not mandatory, but Theseus wouldn’t have it any other way. However, he’d had lying to Auxentios beaten out of him several years ago. He couldn’t answer that question with a lie, so he hesitated, because he’d expected protests and discouragement, not a honest inquiry. 

For a minute he stood frozen: was he really? Maybe he should wait for a few more months, life was easy and comfortable like that. But no... he was ready, or why else would he have such need to prove himself? An idea came to his mind, something he’d been musing over for months now, associated to the brilliant, sweet smile of his younger half-brother. He wanted to be a man in order to start doing things properly, he wanted to be able to court the boy he regretfully had fallen for, before he yielded to someone else’s insistence. Very few people knew of their true relation, which didn't really count, it being divine. As for Newt, surely he couldn’t be serious about dedicating his life to the service of Artemis, could he? Besides, his great-grandfather Theseus (the first) was seventeen as well when he’d already become a hero. 

“I’m sure.” He’d said, handing Auxentios the scissors. He had to insist on the same several hours later, when he showed up in front of his father with his hair cut and unshaven, wearing an adult’s toga. The king was less than thrilled, probably desiring to keep his favorite son a child, that he could dote on, for as long as possible. He glared at Auxentios with a silent question in his eyes. The former tutor just raised his palms as in “it’s his call” and stiffened a smile when Theseus complained that his father should be asking him now, talking directly to him, and that he wanted more responsibility. But when the King asked “what kind” Theseus drew blank. 

That had happened four years ago, during which Theseus did his best to find new ways to appear adult and responsible, while trying to solve what Newt dubbed as his “great existential crisis”. His father never had mocked or lost patience with him, for which he now was immensely grateful. 

That seventeen year old, that had decided he was ready to be a man just because he was tired of being treated like a kid and had fallen in love with a younger boy, that princeling that had grown in privilege but dreamed of glorious quests and overcoming hardships, that soft-minded and soft-hearted youth that had never before killed a man or stood before a real enemy, was just as much of a deep memory to the current Theseus as his mother’s embrace, and felt just as distant and hollow as her voice. 

In fact, everything but the past couple of months felt like a fogged up dream, a vision of a life and a personality that he could barely recognize as his own anymore. 

“It’s going to work.” Newt mumbled under his breath, probably misinterpreting his pensive mood. He bit on his lip, pulling on the straps until the two plaques of bronze and leather were tightly snug against Theseus on front and back. He tied them consciously and stepped back running his hands and eyes over the clasps and knots to make sure every part was well secured. 

“It’s going to work, I’m sure.” He repeated, eyes meeting Theseus's this time and cupping a hand over his jaw. Theseus covered it with his own and turned his face to kiss the inside of Newt’s palm. 

Neither of them fully believed their plan was all that great, but it was the only one they’ve come up with and certainly better than running towards Scamander waving their arms and expecting him to get spooked. Luckily, the Achaean  camp was an abandoned trash site fully stocked on scattered pieces of everything they needed, so after a day of rummaging around they managed to collect all the supplies. Which is why Theseus stood now covered in full, 100% original Trojan armor. Well, almost. He leaned in to give Newt one last peck on the lips and then lowered the helmet over his head. Newt nodded and did the same with his Achaean disguise. 

The armor was heavy and bumpy in uncomfortable places, so it was great that they were placing all their bets on Scamander’s insanity, Theseus thought. At least that way, if it didn’t work, he wouldn't need to bear with it for long before the God killed them. 

The river glistened ahead as they approached, the water of its course dark and sludgy, reeking of putrid algae, but flowing slowly into the delta. Theseus planted his feet, shield ahead of him, and took air into his lungs. 

“Oh powerful and great God of the river Scamander, that bathes the glory of Ilion and the lands of the Troes! Please grant me passage through your waters to deliver this Achaean  prisoner, who shall be questioned and put to death within the walls of our city!” 

He didn’t have to wait for long, the water course turning from a steady flow into a gurgling mess as a barely recognizable shape rose to a man’s height from the water, the white eyes shimmering within the darkness. 

“Who dares to ask for passage? Who are you, mortal?” 

Theseus hoped the way his knees shook was not obvious and that the helmet obscured his features enough so Scamander would not recognize him. 

“I am but a loyal warrior in the army of king Priam, a defender of this city, blessed by the gods since times untold.” 

“Priam is dead!” Scamander hissed. “Illion is fallen! My brother is gone!” 

“With all due respect-” Theseus hurried to retort “His Majesty king Priam is in excellent health, so is our city, as if these puny Achaeans could ever breech our defenses! Your brother sends his regards from the other side of the hill!” 

“Lies… I saw it… I saw the end!” But the hesitation in his voice gave Theseus hope. The god’s mind was broken beyond repair, and they’ve chosen deep night in hope that he couldn't see the ruins up the hill, only the imposing shadows of the city. “The Achaeans destroyed us and left.”

“Then how do you explain the fires in their settlement?” Theseus waved towards the camp where they’ve left dozens of bonfires burning and hung pieces of metal so they would clung against each other in the wind, creating a distant cacophony like an army moving around. Fido barked, tied to a pole, and his powerful lungs ensured he could be heard even by the riverside. Scamander hissed, his waters churning more violently! 

“The Achaeans are still here! That vile Achilles-”

“Achilles and his men are raiding the cities of our allies as we speak. Lemnos is where he is supposed to have headed! But we need more information and interrogating this one-” he shook newt’s shoulder “-might give us the key to destroy him. Please, great God, let me pass for we are on the same side. You already faced Achilles two times, the last one shall be his doom.” 

He didn't wait for the god to answer him, stepping into the water and tentatively dragging his feet step by step as he sang praises of the current glory of Ilion, king Priam and prince Hector. He talked about the sacrifices that the people of the city were planning to dedicate to both rivers soon, and about how impossible and silly it would be for Ilion to fall. He mentioned the turmoil in the Achaean camp in every few lines to keep directing the god’s attention towards it. All the while Newt thrashed in his hold and from time to time yelled in an Exaggerated Athenian accent about how they’ve been sieging Troy for seven years now and would sit there for seven more, about how they were planning to attack again soon and rescue Helen of Sparta that the cruel Trojans kept captive. With every step, they came closer to the other bank, but still waist deep in the river.

Scamander writhed and churned, his shape morphing from a beast to a man and down into an unrecognizable blob. He hissed and whirled his marble white eyes between the two men and the seemingly alive Achaean camp in the distance, his fractured mind stuck between two eras as Theseus and Newt did their best to confuse him and counter-argument his doubts. 

“I smell Achaean scum-” 

“It’s me, you overgrown creek! Now let me go, dirty Trojan!” Newt complained. 

“Yess… that Achaean  warrior… defeat Achilles.”

“Yes! Achilles is bad! He killed many of our men and he is still here, being a nuisance! We all hate Achilles!” Theseus agreed. 

“My brother hates Achilles too. Why is my brother not talking to me! Brother! Brother!” 

“I don’t know my lord, he was seen drinking wine with his nymphs and some young boys earlier today. Maybe he is just sleeping it off.” With every step they struggled to keep their balance, the current and the uneven floor covered in slippery rocks and broken spears making the task difficult. 

“Typical Simoeis… but he can’t be- he is dead! Like Ilion is dead!” 

“Please my lord, don’t be so grim. We are tired from this siege and the recent battles but we are resilient. Ilion stands tall and proud and venerates you as always.” Theseus was running out of arguments but the shore was so close now. And there! A few feet inland a familiar sword stuck in the ground. He could almost see the owl and the olive branch engraved in the pommel, could feel its energy calling him. The weapon was as powerful as its legend and it knew its rightful owner. Theseus was so focused on it he forgot to keep entertaining Scamander, leaving Newt to insult the god by himself. But they were so close now… 

As soon as his feet touched the shore Theseus extended his hand, his fingers itching to close around the leather grip, to have it in his hands again. Another step and the gravel around the blade trembled, slowly shifting apart and releasing it. With a blast of light it flew into his hand and a surge of electric power ran through his body. It felt right, it felt like this is where they both belonged, together. 

A shattering howl brought him out of his reverie. “TREACHERY!”  Scamander bellowed, his attention now turned fully on them and looking madder than ever. His shape growing and churning and shooting algae and gravel in every direction, his arsenal of weapons raising from the river bed in a field of tentacles. 

“Now!” Newt cried out, raising his shield. Theseus launched himself forward. Before Scamander could process his move and impale him with a hundred blades, he sliced through his body, a brilliant white streak breaking the watery mass like butter. Scamander yelled in pain, his voice shaking the ground. Some of his tendrils dissolved, dropping the weapons, some still managed to thrust a dozen spears and swords in an uncoordinated onslaught. Theseus diverted two of them with his own sword, a third one embedding itself in his shield. 

“Go away, Scamander!” He yelled at the God that was reforming anew. “Nobody needs you anymore! You are history!” 

“Puny mortal don’t you-!” 

“Hey, fishface!” A stone thrown with impressive accuracy hit him between the eyes. “Over here!” Newt shouted, which distracted Scamander enough for Theseus to be able to jump over and attack again, wounding his enemy twice more. The three dashes were trying to close unsuccessfully, sizzling and filling the air with steam from evaporating water. The river god writhed in agony and Theseus was even sorry for him now. 

“Give up!” Newt pleaded as well. “You there’s nothing left for you here!”

Yet even more weapons rose pointing in their direction, the tendrils writhing and flailing unsteadily, but ready to attack. Theseus wouldn't let him. He tossed his shield and helm away and took off, running to the riverbank and with all the strength he could master he jumped into the air, his sword held high over his head. He heard Newt scream and Scamander growl, he saw blades and spears soar through the air, even felt two or three sink into his flesh, but when his body connected with Scamander he sank his sword to the hilt in the dark, solid water. The light and heat erupted from the wound in a wave of power, deafening, blinding, but Theseus held on. It was a battle of wills, him against a god. 

He held on for what felt like hours but was probably less than a second, his hands glued to the grip of his sword, Scamander writhing and thrashing under him, the steam swirling from the stab more scorching than the depths of Phlegethon, turning the poisoned dark slime oozing from within into liquid gold. Theseus felt like he was being boiled alive, and to his horror just like the net of light spread through Scamander’s body, dark cracks appeared on his blade. His hands trembled, his strength leaving him. He- he couldn’t hold on anymore. Then, just as he was about to give up, another pair of hands covered his. Newt helping him to hold on as he cried out to the dying god in broken voice. 

“Scamander go! Go to your brother! You are free now! Go to him!” 

The tension became unbearable, the god’s body shaking like an earthquake and his wails drowned out any other sound in the world. Then it stopped. For a second, Theseus thought it was all over, the light had reached the darkest depths of Scamander, his face became vaguely humanoid and a clear, beautiful voice, spoke from his wretched mouth. 

“Brother…” 

Then, several things happened simultaneously. 

Theseus caught a glimpse of two women standing over Scamander’s shoulder, the sacred sword shattered in his hands, and the cracks of light erupted in an explosion of pure energy. The last thing he managed to think before passing out was that at least he and Newt would die together.

Chapter Text

Theseus became dimly aware of one thing: he was not dead. Or at least he thought he wasn’t, because the feminine voice speaking gently somewhere to his left sounded nothing like he imagined the ferryman of the dead would. 

“You played a very high stakes game, my friend.” 

Right above him, someone else hummed softly, and Theseus became aware of more sensations. He was not in pain, for the first time in forever. He was also comfortable, relaxed, and a gentle cool breeze danced over his body. His head was lying on something soft and warm, and somebody was running thin fingers through his hair. 

“And what other chance did I have? Let your father fool me again?” 

He knew that voice, he was sure he knew that voice, he just couldn't quite place it, but it filled him with warmth and comfort, and the sweet scent of simpler times. It was sad and melancholic by nature, beautiful yet subdued. And when that voice spoke again something in his heart ached. But he was not ready to wake up yet, to open his eyes or move, so he kept listening to it.

“And don’t pretend you weren’t just as invested. You need them, and you've had Scamander’s madness weight on your conscience ever since your last great champion.” 

Scamander. The river god that they were fighting. Him and Newt. Where was Newt? 

“Newt!” He tried to call and sit up, but it came out more like an incomprehensible mumble and body wiggle. The hand in his hair moved to his face, gently caressing his brow. 

“Shhh… shhh… my dear. Newtie will be alright. You both will, now sleep, my love, let your body be healed.” And her voice was so soothing, so calm, that he let himself be guided back into unconsciousness. 

The next time wakefulness came easier to him. His head was still resting on the woman's lap, but he knew who it was even before he opened his eyes and moved away. 

“Mother-” He croaked out, throat dry and uncooperative. She presented him with a sphere of clear water hovering over her palm. After a moment’s hesitation he accepted and drank from it. 

“What are you-? Eos?” He could look at her now, and she looked exactly like the last time he’d seen her, so many years ago. The same rosy skin covered in sparkling freckles like morning stars, the same blue eyes striked with specks of gold, the same long, coppery hair and saffron-colored robes, and the golden wings sprouting from her back. She was like a mirage from the past and it hurt more than he ever thought it would. He thought he was over it, he thought he had nothing but indifference and resentment left in his heart for her, yet, it hurt to see her again. 

He wanted to ask her where she’d been, why she had left, what was wrong with him to warrant her abandonment, why had she returned… 

“Where’s Newt?” He asked the one question that was more pressing than any of the former. But even as it was still leaving his mouth he’d already spotted him. Curled against Eos' side was Fido, and draped in his protective warmth Newt snored like a baby. 

Theseus dropped his shoulders, relieved, and then shook Newt until the younger man opened his eyes. They had a momentary, silent exchange of "thank the gods you're alright" and then Newt surged forward and hugged him tightly. Theseus buried his face in the crook of Newt’s neck, breathing in his scent, and closed his arms around him, one hand gripping his waist and another kneading gently his shoulder blade, enjoying the sensation of Newt’s nails scratching up and down his back as his trembling fingers tried to get a grip of his tunic. He was momentarily shaken by the simple realization that they had, somehow, both survived impossible odds for the second time in a row and Newt’s body, solid, warm and breathing against his own felt like a gift from the fates themselves.

Suddenly, Newt went still and tense in his arms.

“Um… Thes-” He tried to vocalize feebly. 

“Yeah, I’ve seen her.” Theseus mumbled into his skin, not really willing to let go yet and face their estranged mother.

“No, I- not… she-” 

“I think your brother means me, prince of Attica.”

Theseus almost jumped out of his skin, because that was not Eos. He had been so focused on her and Newt that he completely overlooked a third person in their company, the voice he’d heard before in his fever. 

She lounged under the shade of an oak, her long white skirts spilling like milk on the grass but held together by a full body gleaming armor. A shield rested next to her face-down and her helm lay on her lap, leaving her face fully uncovered and her golden hair pooling around her shoulders. Her features… Theseus knew them by heart. He’d never seen her in person but her image had surrounded him wherever he turned his head to through his entire life. Every day she was one of the first things he saw and one of the last before he went to bed. Always unemotional, regal, and carved in marble. 

If he hadn’t been on his knees already he would have fallen on his ass automatically, but as it was he only could bow his head in reverence, feeling unworthy to look into her piercing eyes. 

“My lady.” He whispered in fascination, risking a furtive glance up to see her reaction. Next to him, Newt had bowed as well, although not as mystified.

The Goddess Athena smiled, apparently satisfied with the treatment. Her deep gray eyes looked warm and familiar, reflecting the sunny blue of the sky. 

“Such pious boys. No need for so much formality, we are all mostly family here, aren’t we, dear cousin?” 

Eos sighed and grumbled something under her breath that Theseus couldn’t hear, but Athena’s eyes sparkled with mirth and just a tang of malice. 

“Now, now, Eos. You should be happy, your plans worked out. That is always a reason of celebration.”

That snapped Theseus out of his reverie “Her what now?!” 

Eos looked at him, shaking her head “Theseus-” 

“You’ve been gone for over a decade!” He jabbed a finger in her direction “You abandoned us! Now what do you have to do with anything that happened to us!?” 

Eos recoiled, her wings drawing in to cocoon her sides, and Theseus was glad to see a tinge of guilt in her eyes. Rationally, he knew that as a Goddess she had no obligation to even care about her mortal children, after all, their lifespan was no more than a speck on her immortal existence, or so his father had always told him to console him. However, emotionally… if he had to be manipulated into fulfilling godly plans or to be an unknowing pawn in their games, he would rather it not be his mother who dared to orchestrate them. 

Athena tsked in his direction, waving one finger. “Careful, my hero. Your mother is still a deity, and she is also the only thing holding back Artemis's anger away from you.” 

Newt recoiled “So she is angry…” 

“She is not amused.” Eos told him, “and neither am I,” she raised one eyebrow “but who are we gods to judge?” 

“Damn right” Theseus grumbled, fishing blindly for Newt’s hand. He squeezed it staring his mother right in the eye, daring her to press further. “Maybe if you had shown up to give your opinion to me a few years ago-” 

Newt jabbed him in the ribs. Theseus yelped and turned to look at him with betrayed eyes. Newt ignored him but didn’t let go of his hand. He addressed Athena instead. 

“If you allow me a question, my lady,” He took out the coin-sized emblem they had found in the cave near Troy. “This is the real palladium, isn’t it? The Luck of Troy?” 

Athena nodded. “Both your mother and I were invested in your quest for different reasons. I needed you to do something for me, she was just looking out for your own sake.” 

“I’m confused.” Theseus confessed, looking between the two goddesses. 

“It’s a long story.” Eos sighed. 

“I think I understand part of it.” Newt pressed on. “The prophecy of Delphi spoke of this, right? The mark of wisdom finds its home . I’ve been thinking about this ever since we found it. The palladium used to be the protective talisman of Troy, but you sided with the Achaeans in the war. You made sure your blessing left the city, allowing it to get conquered. Now you want us to bring it to Athens, your protégé city.” As he spoke, Athena’s regal face broke into a proud smile “What I don’t get is how Scamander features into any of this.” 

“His actual name was Xanthos.” She answered him “Scamander was the name of the river he used to rule over, but not his own. And he is where my interests and Eos’ align.” 

“Can you tell us? The entire story?” 

Athena exchanged a look with Eos. “You first” their mother said, looking dejected. As if sensing her melancholy mood Fido moved from his previous position and curled around her, laying his head on her lap, that she proceeded to scratch. In that moment, she looked so human and mortal that it was hard for Theseus to stay mad at her, even as he tried. Instead, he stood up and started pacing around the clearing. For Newt it was enough to fidget with the Palladium, but he focused better on the move. Athena’s voice was clear and all-encompassing, even if she spoke softly and evenly. And as she wove her tale Theseus could almost see a tapestry of events unfurl behind his eyes, like a set of memories he couldn’t have possibly been a part of, yet was witnessing now with a borrowed pair of eyes. 

“Long time ago, before Athens was even a village on the coast of the Aegean and I was young, I used to play war games in the sky with my beloved friend Pallas, a nature spirit and a warrior. However, my father once saw us fight and, overprotective as he was of me back then, decided to intervene. He struck Pallas with a lightning at the same time I delivered a blow that she should have had no trouble dodging otherwise. The combination killed her. It was the most terrible moment of my immortal life and as I cried over her corpse. My tears intermixed with her blood and fell off the sky, forming this medallion that you are now holding, my young hero.” Newt stopped fidgeting with the Palladium then, looking at it in wonder. Athena continued, “It fell on earth in the vicinity of Ilion and when its king, an ancestor of Priam, found it, he joined the talisman with a representation of me, granting the statue the power to defend the city forever. I adopted the name Pallas Athena in honor of my dear friend and allowed Ilion to keep the Palladium for dozens of generations.” 

“Until the war broke off between Troy and the Achaeans, including Athens.” Theseus concluded. She nodded. 

“And this is where Xanthos comes in. Another great regret of mine. As you know, the war was as much of a battle between mortals as it was between the Gods. We all blame Aphrodite nowadays, she was the one who manipulated the mind of Helen, allowing Paris to kidnap her and kept her under a spell all these years. But when it comes down to it, all of us are at fault. We allowed this to happen, and it almost destroyed our Olympic family. Using our champions as avatars we fought God against God, old grudges coming out and new offenses and rivalry fueling the fires that burned for a decade. Can you believe Ares left the battlefield and ran to Zeus to complain about me being too violent? Ares! Complaining about violence! He survived both the scare and the humiliation, of course. Most of us, major gods, did. The war was terrible as it unveiled but nothing compared to the Titanomachy or the war against the Giants, just a childish fight to get it out of our systems. It wasn't until later that we realized the effect our games have had on lesser beings. The world of mortals would never be the same, the carnage so devastating the memory of it would last forever. Even Zeus understood that we had overstepped our boundaries. So he decided to retreat from the daily lives of mortals, to stop intervening in your affairs, and ordered us to do the same. Little by little, we’ve been getting used to stay away from you.”

“This is why Artemis doesn’t talk to her servants anymore!” Newt gasped. 

Athena shot him an amused glance. “Artemis is one of the few that could always circumvent Zeus's orders, but she is busy leading the search for Pan. The titans are another unpredictable bunch, always on the periphery of Olympus, not quite ours, not quite independent, which is why your mother was still roaming the Earth when you two were born. Until Zeus noticed her sneaking around, that is. And obviously, me, his favorite.” She winked at Theseus at that, like oh us, daddy’s boys and girls, always so naughty!  “But even I must obey the King of the Gods at this point, he is getting impatient and it’s not wise to anger Father. However, I can’t leave before fixing some unresolved troubles down here on earth.”

“Wait!” Theseus stopped her before she could continue because he'd latched on a very crucial part of what she had said. He turned on his mother, that hadn’t moved from her spot in all that time. “ Zeus ordered you to leave!?” 

She regarded him with a sad smile, and swimming in her eyes was an ocean of emotions, preceded by regret and affection. 

“My story comes later, my beloved boy, but yes. I would not have chosen to lose you two otherwise, not so soon after losing my brother. And as you will see later, I’m not planning to either.”

“But-” He was speechless. Somehow, that knowledge changed too much for him to process in one single sitting. His legs gave out and he flopped down besides Newt, suddenly empty inside, unsure about how he should be feeling. In all these years he had come up with a hundred reasons why their mother would have left them, not in a single one had contemplated a direct order from the King of the Universe himself. 

“Mom…” Newt reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. She blinked the moisture out of her eyes and took his hand between her two, running her thumb on his knuckles. Fido scowled and tried to nuzzle her cheek, but she shook her head. “This is not something your powers can heal, old friend.” 

“I knew he couldn't be a normal dog.” Theseus stared at Fido, not really surprised, who panted happily at him like the giant dork he was. 

His mother chuckled “He is a pup of Laelaps, the hound that never loses her prey, suckled on the milk of the mares that drive the sun chariot across the sky. I brought him to them personally before every sunrise for many weeks. As a result, he has many talents. He can heal the worst wounds and dissolve into light. He is stronger than any dog and just like his mother, loyal to the bone. I made sure he would put all his powers to good use, protecting you, as I could not. And give you all the love I had to keep to myself.” 

“You left him at my door! He refused to follow anyone in the temple but me. You were looking out for us all this time!” Newt rose to his knees and leaned in, hugging her carefully. Eos looked startled for a second, like she had never been given a hug before, but then reciprocated, gently closing her arms and wings around her youngest son, tears shining like morning dew in her eyelashes. She looked up at Theseus over his shoulder, but he recoiled, still unsure about how he should feel. The implication that his mother did, in fact, still love him, shocked him to the bone after years of believing otherwise. 

Instinctively, he looked at Athena for guidance, like any good Attican always did. The Olympian was contemplating the scene with scientific curiosity, as if calculating in her mind the probabilities of any of them reacting in a particular way. Their eyes met and she smirked “This is a very moving moment,” she said in a tone that didn’t sound moved at all “but I would like to finish my explanation, Eos.”

Theseus felt grateful. 

Chapter Text

Theseus could feel his mother’s sad eyes boring into the back of his head, but he was not ready to face her yet, so he did his best to focus on Athena, restlessly bobbing his knee up and down. 

“As I was saying, before somebody dared to interrupt me, the war at Ilion was as much of a battle between mortals as it was between gods, and while most of us, olympians, came out of it unscathed, not everyone had that luck.” 

“Scamander… Xanthos?”

“Exactly. River gods are minor deities, barely above nature spirits. They prosper in the wild or when they are being honored by humans. They give life to cities and receive tributes in exchange, or they protect nature from damage. But ultimately, they are born of the water that comes from the sea and they spill back into the sea. For eons, the rivers Scamander and Simoeis flowed on these valleys and steppes. They saw the birth of Ilion and nursed it in its cradle. They also saw many wars, but none like the last one. The Great war finally broke them, specially Xanthos. Not only did it annihilate Ilion, not only the blood and violence exceed any other, but he had to battle his wills against the Olympians.”

“Three times the river Scamander rose on the path of Achilles, and three times his patron gods protected him.” Theseus recited from memory. Athena nodded. 

“Hera, Hephaestus and I measured our power against his and easily overpowered him all three times. We supported our chosen champion, Achilles, even as he choked the course of the river with a pile of Ilian men that he killed to make a bridge. With each time Xanthos not only lost a battle of wills, he lost his sanity, sinking further and further into a poisoned abyss. After the war ended and the site was abandoned, the only thing left for him was his rage and the spirits that had never departed. They fed one another, retroactively poisoning and anchoring each other to this cursed land. And then Simoeis left. He dissolved into primordial mist, tired of a meaningless existence and longing to go back to the ocean forever. I don’t have to tell you the kind of shock that supposed for Xanthos. We, Olympians, humiliated him, broke his mind and then abandoned him, alone and hopeless, to wither in a wrecked existence.” 

“So you feel guilty.” Theseus concluded. 

“Guilt is a very… mortal concept. Hera and Hephaestus never cared, but with me it never sat right, to leave a fellow God to suffer for the rest of eternity in such a way, specially if he fed the curse of this place. However, Xanthos was so far gone that even Apollo couldn't heal his mind. To be freed, he had to die.” 

Theseus nodded. Athena raised an eyebrow. “You are not asking how could a god die?” 

Theseus shrugged it off “You can’t die from old age or injury, but mother told us that all immortals can just stop existing, dissolve and fade or be reborn anew if they wish so.” 

Athena shot Eos a reproachful look. “Yes, that’s how it is. However, it has to be either our choice or the result of being forgotten, when we start feeling so insignificant and unneeded that it’s easier to just stop existing. But before Xanthos could realize that it was time for him to give up, he needed to be purified. Rivers come from the rainwater that rises from the sea, and they flow back into the sea, he needed to remember what it felt like, to be part of that circle. Luckily, he hoarded the means in his own waters.”

“The sword!” Newt proclaimed. “It was coated with the blood of the Minoan bull, a gift from Poseidon, born of sea foam and sacrificed to Zeus by Theseus.” 

“Yes” Athena agreed. “But Theseus and his children were active men. It ended up also blessed with many noble deeds and cursed by sins unimaginable. Both battled inside that sword for generations, creating a field of magic energy more powerful than some gods. But ultimately, it all came back to the blood of the Minoan bull, to the sea, and only a descendant of the sea could wield its full power. That’s why we needed you, Theseus. Only you could save Scamander from himself.” 

“But the sword is gone now! It was destroyed!” Theseus spat out bitterly. He remembered now, the last moments of the mad god. How the sword of his great-grandfather shattered in his hands. “It was the whole reason we came here! The prophecy said it was the key to save Athens.” His voice took on a desperate edge. He had failed. He had tried so hard and yet he had failed. 

“My son,” Eos spoke softly to him “Prophesies seldom mean what you think they do. And neither trying to avoid them or manipulate them into fulfillment works like we intend them to. You lost a sword, but during this quest you gained a much more powerful means to save your home, not once, but for the ages to come. And what’s more - through all the hardships you overcame on your quest, you proved yourself worthy of invoking its power.” 

“The Palladium.” Newt looked down at the talisman in his hand. “So the only reason for this quest was to find it? Bring it to Athens?” 

Eos shook her head and some of her freckles fell down like a dribble of diamond dust. “That was Athena’s plan, but I had my own reasons to let you do this as well. I’m very sorry, my sweet children. I am afraid some of your hardships have been brought on you because of our influence, the overload of bandits, for instance, but we helped you as well. I just- I needed you to complete a real quest. A quest of ages past, so I could keep you with me.” 

“Okay, okay” Theseus shook his head, pushing aside his feelings of incompetency in favor of confusion. He put up his hands. “What?” 

“Your turn.” Athena waved at her. I’m going to Olympus for a while to make sure Father is still distracted.” And with that, she was gone. The patch of grass where the goddess of War and Wisdom sat just as green and lush as if it had been caressed by a soft breeze instead of bearing her weight.

Eos exhaled in relief, wings sagging, and bit on her lip, the same way Newt used to do when he got nervous.

Theseus looked around. They were alone now, on a clearing in the middle of a forest God knows where, and there was no Athena now to focus on. Eos looked pleadingly at him and he relented, sitting next to Newt, across from her and Fido. 

“You sent the dog to protect us.” He started with the simplest part of the story. 

“And held him back many times on this quest so he wouldn't make it too easy for you, yes.” 

“We almost died.” Newt pointed out. “Specially Thes, several times. How was that easy ?”

“I know.” She lowered her gaze. “I never stopped watching you, I swear I would not have allowed you to suffer any real damage. But I needed you to do this, to overcome your own expectations for yourselves. Or else you wouldn't have been able to face and win against Xanthos.” 

“Which was important… why exactly?” Theseus grit his teeth. 

Eos winced and Newt gave him a warning look. The younger boy paced one hand gently on his mother’s back, his voice gentle and calming. 

“We only want the truth mom, please.” 

She inspired deeply and nodded. “Tell me, my loves, who are the gods of the sun and the moon?” 

Such a simple question, but it has always been difficult for Theseus to answer it. “Technically, Apollo and Artemis, but you used to tell us it was your siblings, Helios and Selene.”

“Yes” Eos looked up at him with sadness. “The twins were never meant to be anything more than their supervisors. Zeus doesn’t trust us, children of Hyperion, you see. But with time, people forgot about my brother and sister, they started to worship Apollo and Artemis instead, forgot that somebody else had to drive the chariots. And a few years ago I came down to open the gates of dawn as always, and found Apollo in the seat of the sun, instead of Helios. To his credit, he seemed as confused as I was. I looked everywhere for my brother, for years I couldn't think of anything else, yet I know I will never be able to see him again. And Selene… we never crossed paths much, how long has she been gone? I don’t even know. I am all alone now. My siblings disappeared, my father and mother were thrown into Tartarus for siding with Chronos in the Titan war. And that damned curse of Aphrodite…” 

She let out a sob and Newt drew her into his arms, exchanging with Theseus a worried look. She buried her face in his shoulder, tenderly running her shaky fingers through his hair, all around them morning dew sprang on the glass but vanished under the midday sun as quickly as it came. 

“Your father was the last straw, my dear Newt. I thought we had many years together, maybe I could even figure out a way to keep him, the way I couldn’t my last great love, Tithonus, I tried to save him but that was when Zeus noticed my disobedience. He recalled me to Olympus and forbid me from ever setting foot in Athens again. I tried to find his mother to alert her and beg her to save him, but it was already too late.”

“Wait, what? Grandmother Lea? But she has been dead for half a century!” 

Eos snorted and moved back, wings fluttering feebly. 

“Newt, your grandmother was a Nereid, a sea nymph. She didn’t die, just moved on like Gods and nature spirits do. That’s why your father’s voice was so captivating and beautiful I fell in love the moment I heard it.”

“Oh…” 

“Yes” She looked between them “And old Theseus was a son of Poseidon as well as of Aegeus. Both of you, my boys, are descended of the sea as much as of light. You wouldn't have survived that storm otherwise, but I knew you had it in you.” 

“Did you… did you sent it?” Theseus narrowed his eyes, thinking about the night they fell off the Mooncalf. But Eos shook her head adamantly. 

“No, but it kickstarted your trials of valor, which both Athena and I were waiting for. Do you remember the story of Cyrene?” 

“The city or the woman?” 

“The woman that founded the city.” 

Theseus glanced at Newt, who was more on a history expert. Newt tried to recall, frowning his brow. “She was a princess from Thebes, granddaughter of a river god, that would wrestle wild beasts and kill them with her own hands. Apollo fell in love with her and stole her away, giving her reign over her own city that she raised into a kingdom. She had two children by him, and one son by Ares, whom she fought as a way of courtship.” 

“Yes, a truly exceptional mortal. How did her story end?” 

“She… died?” Newt went with the most obvious. 

“No, she didn’t!” Theseus snapped his fingers, remembering it now. “Apollo turned her into a Naiad, a nature spirit of the river that runs through the city that she founded. He made her an immortal!” The moment he said it, his face went white. 

“Oh no! No, no, no…!” Newt jumped back, starting to wave his hands “Mother please tell me you didn’t think of something crazy!” 

She beamed at him like the sun that just rose from the horizon. “It’s perfect my dearests! Last time I asked Zeus to make someone I cared for immortal he played me over, so this time I went to Athena, who is more honest. She needed new champions to carry on her plans for her, I wanted to know how I could keep you with me forever, and do it properly.” 

“You want to turn us into nature spirits!?” Theseus gaped at her. She couldn't be just that crazy, right? 

“Not nature spirits my love, they are, uh, fragile, but actual gods! Think about it! You are both descended of the sea, just like a river is born of evaporated sea water that eventually flows back into it. You carry the sea within you and you can both return to it. And now your path is clear!”

“Path?”

“With Xanthos gone, the river Scamander, that has always been looked over by a god, is buzzling with empty energy. It will purify itself in time but will always miss a god in it. Specially around here, where the river meets the shore. A Hero is made of a different energy than a regular mortal, a Hero that has survived great disasters, overcome death several times, and killed and immortal, even more so! Such a Hero is closer to divinity than any other mortal, even more so if he has divine blood inherited from different generations. And now, after this quest, you both are so, so close! Athena promised me she would help me give you a new life, an immortal life, so we could be together forever so… I didn’t have to be alone anymore. Please, my boys, at least consider it.” 

“You made us kill him so we could take his place?!” Theseus gaped at her, trying to digest that terrifying possibility. 

“Not exactly. Listen, you don’t have to decide now. In fact, you still have trials ahead of you. Dire times are coming, my sweethearts, a drought like never seen before, famine and plagues and invasions. Invest in Iron. Everything you know will collapse around you. Civilization itself may perish. We can’t interfere, but this is exactly why Athena has chosen you as her champions among mortals. She wants someone strong to keep the fire of knowledge and the memory of our glorious history burning in her city. She wants rulers worthy of invoking the power of the Palladium to guide Athens through these dark times. Be that kind of rulers and she will keep her promise to me. The river Scamander will still be here, waiting for you, when the right time comes.”

“I need a moment.” Newt breathed out, staring up at the sky dumbfounded. Theseus figured he didn’t look any better. 

“You are insane.” He declared, and immediately regretted it when she looked at him with the most pitiful, hurt, baby cow eyes he’s ever seen. 

“I miss you so much, my babies, I just want us to be closer. I would have never left you if it was my choice, please believe me.” She darted her eyes from Theseus to Newt, who was biting at his lip and frowning at the clouds, like he was trying to unravel a convoluted idea. 

Great, now Theseus had a headache. “Okay, first of all, don’t call us babies, second - I believe you, I do. But you can’t possibly expect us to-” 

“I think it’s in the prophecy, Thes.” Newt interrupted him, rubbing his temples as well. “ By ichor spilling in the east is obviously about the death of Xanthos. But Dawn of the new gods reborn ? It's a very specific phrasing, don’t you think?”

“Newt, are you okay with it?” Theseus asked, incredulous. 

“I-” He bit on his lower lip “I don’t know. Immortality doesn’t sound that bad, specially if we would be together.”

“Yes!” Eos pepped up, clapping her hands. “I wouldn’t want to ever separate you two! You would always be together, and I could see you anytime, doesn’t that sound great?” 

Theseus kept looking between the two of them trying to figure out what to even begin to think. “Okay, you know what? We don’t have to decide now, right? Just… give us some time, mom. I’m more worried about the remaining part of the prophecy right now: and blood of mortals in the east . What does that mean?”

“It means you need to return to Athens immediately.”

Theseus almost jumped out of his skin, he hadn’t noticed Athena reappearing, but now she stood anew in front of them, tall and regal, both incredibly beautiful and imposing in her amour, but her grey eyes were dark like an upcoming storm, swallowing the light of the setting sun. 

“I am sorry to tell you this, Theseus, but king Apheidas recently passed away, and I am afraid his guests are not being very respectful of the ancient laws of Xenia. Go to Athens, our people need you, and my protection.” 

“What!?” Theseus felt like she’d just punched him in the chest. “Apheidas… how?” 

“How do we get to Athens?” Newt asked instead. “We don’t have a ship and by land it will take us too long.” 

“Eos can take you, I will distract Zeus.” She looked at their mother “Drop them there and return immediately. “Do not interfere anymore.” 

And with that, she was gone. Eos rose gracefully, despite the tears still shining like molten gold on her cheeks, and spread her wings. 

“Wait, what happened to my brother?” Theseus tried to protest as she pulled him to her chest by the shoulders, her other arm around Newt. 

“You will find all the answers in Athens, my love. Now you need to save your city.”

“But the prophecy said- I don’t have the sword of Theseus!” He'd had it, for a short period of time, the whole reason for his quest, the sacred weapon of the greatest Attican Hero of all times. He had the sword of Theseus and he'd let it be destroyed."

“Oh my dear son,” Eos said, holding him tight “Don't you see it? You are Theseus.”

And with that, the entire world turned upside down in a flash of light. 

Chapter Text

They tumbled down onto the stone floor with an undignified squeak from Theseus and a flock of loose, white feathers. 

“Mom?” Newt rolled around and tried to sit up, turning his head in all directions, but she was gone. She had deposited them on a terrace of the Athenian palace, the same one where, all these years ago, she had met Theseus's father. But while that one, according to her recounting, had been a quiet and solitary night, this one was not. Fires burned down in the courtyard patio and a hundred voices were yelling and arguing at the same time. Looking down from the terrace Theseus could see a bunch of soldiers in foreign armor running around and chasing after citizens. Even more were coming from the open gates of the city. Why were the gates open? Who were these people? 

Theseus unsheathed his sword, realizing he was still mostly dressed in Trojan battle regalia, safe for the metal chestplate and helmet. Newt was holding his bow, the quiver slung over his shoulder, and looked pretty confused about possessing both. They didn’t have time to wonder about their weapons however, something was terribly wrong in Athens. 

“To the Throne Room” Theseus decided, “If Apheidas truly is dead, then Thymoetes must be king now."

The passages were a mess of horror. They passed several guards laying face down in a pool of blood and busted doors with signs of struggle inside. Theseus' heart broke with every ashen face he recognized and every corner of his home defiled like that. On one of such corridors somebody called barely loud enough to hear:

“Prince Theseus?” A palace guard with a dash in his ribs tried to sit up, but Theseus crouched down next to him, a hand on his shoulder. 

“What happened?” 

“The royals from Messenia. King Melanthus… It was a trick they- they brought their army. Said they only wanted a place to stay and regroup before taking back their city. But our army... we had to send it to Marathon, the raids there-” He was overcome by a fit of coughing, breathing shallowly and with great effort. “Lord Thymoetes wanted to expel them he, he didn’t trust- somebody opened the doors. They took the nobles and the scribes to the patio. I fear- you must stop them.” The poor man’s eyes were losing their light almost on sight, but he managed to push at Theseus, urging him to leave. There was nothing Theseus could do for him but let him rest, and he knew it. Yet he waited until the guard's eyes closed and his body went slack on his own. 

“Thes!” Newt called to him in a frantic whisper, before dodging a corner, bow at the ready, and shooting twice. Theseus ran to him, wiping tears away from his eyes with the back of his sleeve, only to see two foreign soldiers, with arrows poking out of their skull and neck respectively, collapse. With one last look at  the guard's body, Theseus grabbed Newt by the elbow, urging them forward. 

“The patio.” He led the way through the palace that had been his home, his safe haven, since he was born. They overcame another pair of invaders and joined with a small group of allies that were still in fighting condition and very surprised to see him, but the voices and noises sounded closer then, coming right from the courtyard patio. And one voice rose above all others. A stranger’s commanding baritone.

“Common enemies drove us from our home! We asked for asylum yet how long until your city granted it?! Do alliances mean nothing in Athens?! Now your second king died and this one broke the laws of Xenia trying to expel us! Well, this is how Messenia answers to offenses!”

“NO!!” Theseus yelled, breaking into the patio just in time to witness a giant man swiping his sword through the air. In the other, he was holding by the hair the battered form of his middle brother. Their eyes met for a fraction of a second and Thymoetes managed to mouth out “run” before the sword tore through his neck, spraying blood everywhere like a grotesque fountain. 

Theseus was petrified, unable to move as he watched life leave his brother’s eyes, his body sagging like a wet rag and the gold diadem of the king clatter to the floor. His entrance, however, attracted everyone’s attention. The patio was occupied by a dozen high administrators of Attica held on sword-point by hordes of invading soldiers, all surrounding the king of Messenia and his crime,

“Prince Theseus!” Some idiot accountant squeaked and Melanthus raised his dark eyes, a grin spreading through his blood-splattered face. 

“Oxyntes’ bastard. Perfect, now I don’t have to go looking for you. Come here princeling, be a good boy and share your brother’s fate. Guards!” 

Theseus was still in shock, barely registering that he had been spoken to, still unable to tear his eyes from the limp form of Thymoetes, but an uncontainable rage started to burn in his chest. He unfroze and howled at the top of his lungs, and then tried to surge forward, to meet the men that were coming for him, ready to tear through them and fight the murderer to the last breath. However, Newt tackled him by the waist, dragging him backwards. 

“Cover us! Protect your king!!” He yelled at their guards and the assembled noblemen alike, doing his best to contain Theseus, to push him the way they’d came. “Please!” He begged, catching Theseus’ mad gaze. “We can’t fight them now, they are too many. We need to retreat, for now, please!! Theseus for me!” 

That brought him out of his grief-induced madness. With one last glance at the raising mayhem in the patio, they fled, aided by a pair of their own men, down the corridor and away from the patio, pursued by two dozen enemy soldiers. They broke into a room that connected three corridors.

“Scatter!” Theseus ordered. “They are following us by sound. Scatter around, divide them!”

“But your majesty-!”

“Make as much noise as you can, then hide or lay down and pretend to be dead! I know another way, now go!”

He grabbed Newt by the wrist and dove into the left corridor, which led the kitchens. “Through the service window, behind the curtain.” 

Newt pushed aside the small curtain at chest high and with Theseus’ help pushed himself out of the opening for baskets and trash. He landed in a pile of peels and helped Theseus to climb out as well. The opening was barely wide enough for his shoulders but they managed and took off running into the city under the cover of the night. 

The situation there was barely better than in the palace. Altercations broke off almost on every major street they passed, very few local guards and brave citizens against enemy soldiers, which were, sadly, more numerous, better prepared and more motivated. From every window, frightened faces peered into the street. Theseus thought if they just helped instead of covering… But he couldn’t blame them for being afraid. Fires burned on every corner, either torches or entire houses with families trying to evacuate or help their neighbors put down the flames. 

Finally, they left behind the epicenter of the fights and stopped to catch their breath in a dark alley. Theseus collapsed to his knees, sobbing through broken breaths, his entire body trembling. After the past two months, after Thrace, Troy and Scamander, he thought nothing else could shake him anymore. However, losing both his elder brothers in a matter of minutes, actually seeing one being murdered, in front of his own eyes… He couldn't shake the grotesque picture from his mind, couldn’t even begin to comprehend what had just happened, couldn't breathe, think, control his own body, his heart beating like a scared animal’s trying to escape his chest. He had never been close to them but… but they were his family . And he loved, respected them, counted on their strength and wisdom. Now they were gone, and he was left alone to save a city that was under-protected and losing a battle. 

“Thes…” Newt crouched next to him, arms around his shoulders, and guided Theseus’ head to his chest, peppering his hair with kisses and whispering soft words of support and encouragement. 

“It’s okay, my love, take your time, breathe, in and out, that is, yes, just like this sweetheart.” He guided Theseus, his hand tenderly caressing his back up and down, with the rise and fall of his own chest. “I’m so sorry, what happened is horrible, but Thymoetes wanted you to escape, now we have to concentrate on our safety. We have to be safe, regroup, that's it, very well, breathe… You still have me, and mom. I will never leave you, no matter what. You are my nuisance of a big brother and I love you to the end of the world and back. This is nothing, nothing compared to what we already survived, we can do it. Shhhh…” 

Newt was shaking as well, and trying not to cry, but he was trying his utmost to be strong for Theseus, he needed to take care of him. His gentle voice, so familiar and loved, his warmth all around Theseus, his touch, his smell and the tickle of his hair as Theseus buried his face in Newt’s collarbone… it all felt so far away, like it reached him through a layer of water. But it worked. Who knows how long they sat there, cuddled in the dirt, in the dark alley with the echoes of battles and the panic of the citizens all around them, drowning it out and focusing on the heat of each other’s living bodies, the beat of each other’s hearts, until they found a common pace. 

Slowly, clarity came back to Theseus, his mind filing the recent tragedy under another rock to deal with later, once his current problem was dealt with. He remembered why they came here. Athena had warned them that something terrible was happening in Athens and that they would need her protection. 

“How do we activate the Palladium?” He asked, even if it came out more like an incomprehensible mumble against the leather of Newt’s armor, but his lover understood. 

“I think it needs to be joined with an image of Athena, like it was in Troy.” 

“Any image?” Theseus pulled away, rubbing the tears from his eyes. “There are hundreds of them in Athens.” 

Newt bit the corner of his lip. “Yeah, sounds too… common. We can try, however. Where is the nearest one?” 

Carefully, Theseus peeked around the corner. He had grown sneaking around this city, he knew every square and street by heart. “There should be one a few blocks down, at the entrance of the honorary quarter. 

Newt readied his bow and tucked one arrow in it. “Alright, lead the way.” 

And so, they ran. Incredibly, Newt had only needed to shoot once. Theseus almost ran into a scouting group head-on, but managed not to get noticed. They did, however, overhear the men talking about new orders making rounds through their side; to be on a lookout for a young man whose description matched Theseus perfectly. King Melanthus himself had organized and was leading a searching party for him. The pair exchanged an uneasy look and snook around, taking another alley until they finally reached a square that stood at the mouth of a lavish, long street that extended in the direction to the Acropolis. The houses on it were bigger, more beautiful and sturdier than the ones in other quarters, a drinking well coronated with a sculpture of Athena stood guard at the entrance. 

Frantically looking around, the pair rushed towards it, Newt taking out the palladium and climbing the edge of the well to press it against Athena’s chest. 

“Please, please, please!” He mumbled. “Lady Athena accept this talisman of yours, we bring it to you as you ordered, please help!” 

Nothing happened. Newt grit his teeth and resumed praying, precariously tip-toeing at the edge of the well.  But then a shout from one of the connecting streets made him lose his balance and he fell into the water with a loud splash. 

Three enemy men, two with their swords out and one dragging a struggling woman, had noticed them. 

“Hey! It’s the guy His Majesty is looking for!” The two armed soldiers attacked Theseus head front. Theseus raised his guard, jumping aside and stabbing the nearest one in the side, thrusting half of his blade into the man’s guts. He tore it out in time to block a swing from the other swordsman, twisting the blade in his hand and stepping forward, right on the guy’s foot. That distracted the poor bastard enough for Theseus to elbow him in the face and immediately slice his throat. 

He didn’t expect the move to trigger an emotional blockage. For a second he saw the stream of blood shoot from his brother’s neck, not the enemy’s. He froze, suddenly lost in time. 

“Thes! LOOK OUT!” Newt’s scream brought him back to reality a split second before the third man’s sword would have impaled him. He dove to the side so the edge just grazed his hip, but it still sent a searing jolt of pain through his body. An arrow hit the soldier in the stomach and then in the shoulder, another missed his head. Newt had climbed out of the well but he was drenched like a rat and his hands were shaking. Theseus hurried up to stab the dying dude once for a good measure and ran back to Newt, whose teeth were chattering. 

“You’re bleeding.” He squeezed out. 

Theseus brought a hand to his hip and it came up covered in blood. It hurt pretty badly too, but he’d dealt with enough wounds in Thrace to know it was nothing serious. Still, they needed to clean up and regroup. 

“Come with me,” he told Newt, dragging him up the street until they reached one particularly sturdy house with spartan gates and drawn curtains. He pushed Newt behind the fence and turned around only to be faced with a big, black dog guarding the entrance door. The beast started to growl but Theseus stepped towards it, bringing a finger to his lips, and the animal lowered his ears, scowling a bit but it didn’t attack. 

“Good boy, Spotty.” Theseus whispered, pushing the front door open and slipping inside behind Newt. 

The inside courtyard was not much warmer than the outside, but at least they were shielded from view. Theseus slid down the wall, breathing out a sigh of relief and a bit light-headed from the blood loss. 

“We need to bandage you!” Newt hissed through clattering teeth, kneeling by this side. 

“Which is still not a good excuse to break into a house.” 

Newt jumped up at the sound of a man’s voice coming from the darkness, instinctively going for his quiver, but Theseus grabbed his ankle in warning. 

“Hey teach,” he breathed out, looking up at the face outlined by a flickering candle “a bit of help?”

Chapter Text

A few bandages soaked in healing balm and a hearty bowl of hot porridge later and Theseus was feeling so much better. He beamed at Auxentios across the table, despite being in the process of retelling a short version of their misadventures in Troy. Meanwhile Newt did the best to scowl at his old tutor while wrapped in a cocoon of woolen blankets. However, he picked up the narration when it came to what they’ve witnessed in the palace. 

Their host sighed and leaned forward, with this hands clasped on the table. Even if his posture was as impeccable and strong as always, an almost visible bundle of sorrow and worry weighed down his shoulders. “So that means you are the king now.” He told Theseus, more like an affirmation than a question. He made a secretive gesture to his servant, Helga, and then focused on his former pupil again. “You know? I was the one who advised your father against letting the Messenians in. I have dealt with them enough in the past to question their loyalties and sense of gratitude. Apheidas didn’t want my advice. I believe he felt overwhelmed and saw in the expelled king Melanthus a friend and a mentor, not someone who would turn on him.”

“What happened to Apheidas?” Theseus asked. 

“Officially - his health has never been good and betrayed him now. But we both know he was stronger than he looked. I don’t believe for a second that his death was a matter of bad fortune. Neither did Thymoetes.” 

“Why weren’t you at the palace today?” Newt narrowed his eyes. “It was his coronation, right?”

“It was.” Auxentios agreed “And from what news reached me, his first decree had been the expulsion of the Messenians from Athens. A bold and rather unintelligent move to make with the full of Athenian army on the other shore of Attica. Impulsivity has always been his major flaw. However, he was the one that asked me not to attend, because he trusted me with another task.” 

Theseus tilted his head, inquisitively. He was still grief-stricken by the death of both his brothers, but he had to agree. Even if he had been the only one to be taken by Auxentios as a pupil, the former general had been a trusted advisor to his father for many years, and he had known his brothers well. Apheidas grew up to possess a benevolent heart and had always been too trusting, while Thymoetes compensated for his more distrustful nature with rash decisions and a lack of tact. 

Years ago, Auxentios had told Theseus in confidence that he believed the youngest prince would make a better king for Athens than either of them, if he received a proper education and learned to focus, that is. Back then Theseus thought his tutor was trying to motivate him into studying more, quite unsuccessfully, since Theseus had never wanted the throne. Funny how the fates weave their tapestries, he doubted Auxentios was happy to have gotten his wish now. 

“Uncle Theseus?” 

The squeaky voice brought him out of his thoughtfulness. Theseus’ eyes widened when he saw the tiny boy that Helga had brought in. Sliding off his chair he knelt as the four year old rushed to hug him with his chubby, short arms. 

“Codrus! What are you doing here? I thought you were with grandpa this year!” 

“Carystus City is being overrun by pirates these days. Apheidas thought bringing him back to Athens would be safer.” Auxentios supplied. 

“Da- daddy…” The boy’s brown eyes filled up with tears.

“I know, I know, sweetie.” Theseus hugged him tight to his chest, kissing the top of his head as the kid started to sob. “Thymoetes asked you to hide him?” He asked Auxentios, who nodded. 

“I wouldn't be here otherwise, staying home instead of defending my city. But right now he’s almost in as much danger as you are, even if by age alone he doesn’t pose any threat to the usurper’s crown.” 

Theseus looked down at the bundle of hiccuping nephew in his arms. Apheidas’ only son, mostly cared for by his mother, that had returned to her native island to care for her ill father, taking the child with her months ago. Apheidas had chosen a bad time to call him back. “We can’t stay here any longer. If they come looking for us and find him…” 

“But what can we do?” Newt asked, “The Palladium didn’t work! I tried to join it to the statue but-”

“Maybe the statue wasn’t right.” Auxentios interrupted him. “Objects of power must have meanings, they must be symbols, connected to the Gods. You can’t just take any old sculpture over a well and expect it to be good enough to host the power of a Goddess. In Troy, the figure of Athena was a relic centuries old, and it stood in the temple that overlooked the entire city. Maybe you need something grandiose and as close to the heavens as you can manage, think about it.”

“The Athena Parthenos!” Newt’s eyes widened. “Thes-”

“We need to reach the Acropolis.” Theseus nodded. “Whether it works or not, that’s our only chance.”

Newt agreed to change into Auxentios’ old under-armour, since his was still wet and also 70 years out of vogue. While he was away, Auxentios put a hand on Theseus’ shoulder, leaning in conspiratorially. 

“You know, if even half of what you told me you went through on your quest is true, that is most impressive. I can see in your eyes as well, how much you have matured since the last time I saw you, and certainly since the day you asked me to cut your hair.” He ran his fingers through Theseus’ mess of tangled locks. “You may have only believed yourself to be a grown up then, but you certainly are a real man now.” 

“It’s all true” Theseus swallowed hard, “I wouldn't lie to you.” 

“I know.” Auxentios smirked, a rare treat in him. “And for what it’s worth, I believe your father would be very proud of you. I know I am.” 

Theseus nodded, suddenly very interested in his own sandals, but reciprocated when his former tutor pulled him into a quick hug. He smelled of medicinal herbs and the sea that had permeated his entire being after so many years in the navy. His arms and chest solid and unyielding as always, as if he had decided one day to stop changing and by sheer force of will actually won the battle against time. Theseus wouldn't have been surprised at all if that were the case. A tiny part of him wanted to stay like that, to metaphorically crawl under his tutor’s wings and let go of all responsibility. But a much larger part knew that those days were far behind and far beneath him. He had a job to do, a job that he had inadvertently trained for. He had been chosen by his Patron Goddess herself and he would not give up until he fulfilled his duty, no matter the cost. 

“We are counting on you, boy. Aren’t we, pipsqueak?” 

Codrus nodded enthusiastically from where he was clinging to a table leg. Theseus smiled tenderly at him. “Take care of my nephew, please.” He told Auxentios. 

“With my life, Your Majesty.” He assured, patting the sword hanging from his belt. 

“Are we leaving or not?” Newt reappeared, fully dressed and with a quiver full of arrows. Trust an old general to have a veritable arsenal in his house. 

“Good.” Auxentios nodded. “Now get out of my house, you two.”

And so they were back on the streets and running under the cover of the night. Sadly, several scouting groups of invaders were patrolling the main street, so Newt and Theseus had to sneak behind the houses, stopping at every intersection to make sure nobody was coming around the corner and killing or disabling anyone who was. The acropolis rose tall and imposing, an unreachable shadow under the moon, impossible to misplace but way too far to see the eternal torches burning inside the temples. 

The problem was that the only way to access the hill was through the west gate, which turned out to be heavily guarded. The pair exchanged a look. 

“I’m counting twelve. How many arrows do you have left?” 

“Around twenty. Thrace?” 

“Thrace.” Theseus agreed. He leaned in and kissed Newt, short but deep. “I love you.” 

“I love you too.” 

And with that, Theseus turned the corner, sword in hand and facing the squadron seemingly by himself. 

“Hey! Isn’t that they guy the king is looking for?!” A few of the men noticed him. A couple of them attacked immediately, they both fell before either of them could reach Theseus, and so did the lone archer on the wall. 

“There’s a shooter! Find him out!” The captain cried out. 

“Oh no, you don’t!” Theseus growled and charged the men that had broken from the group.

He fought with the viciousness of somebody that had lost enough already and was not going to tolerate losing anything else, his instincts, naturally sharp since birth and honed during his quest alerting him of every attack on the periphery, dancing through the gaps between his attackers. He didn’t need to come to them, they came to him, all he needed to do was protect the alley Newt was shooting from and entertain the soldiers until they got an arrow in a vital or extremely inconvenient spot. The soldiers were good, but they hadn’t trained with the Abderans, faced down Thracian warlords or fought Gods. 

Until it was only two guys left and he was out of breath, exhausted and bleeding from several swallow cuts. He thrust his sword across the closest man’s gut and kicked him back, but barely had time to block the captain’s onslaught. However, as he did so, holding their swords in a stalemate, he turned with extremely bad timing and an arrow pierced his shoulder. The pain was more than any sword had ever caused and he felt his grip falter, his sword falling from his hands. Luckily, as he faltered, another arrow hit his adversary right in the temple, piercing his head. 

“Thes!!” Newt hurried over to him, “I’m so sorry! Oh god what have I done?! THes!”

“I’m alright.” Theseus grunted through gritted teeth. Newt’s arrow had gone straight through his underarm. It was not a fatal wound by any means but he found himself unable to properly move his sword arm. He broke the head sticking out from his armor and ripped the rest out with Newt’s help, who had tears running down his face. 

“Hey, hey…” He gripped his jaw with his other hand, making Newt look him straight in the eye. “It’s fine! I’m fine we have to go.” Even now he counted one less dead body on the ground than there should have been. 

They crossed the gate and ran uphill, past other temples and lavish sculptures, past theaters and plazas, with only one goal in mind: the gigantic temple at the summit, the pride of Athens, higher than any other in the known world. For Theseus it was agony, he was losing blood from his wounds and his right arm hung limp and barely responsive by his side. Even as they advanced — so close, every step closer, almost there — he could hear horse hooves rapidly approaching. 

They were almost at the top of the steps to the temple when Newt veered around and shot from his bow. His arrow hit one of the two horsemen at the bottom, knocking him out of his steed. The other rider raised his shield, guffawing out as if he knew that he didn’t need that protection. 

Newt threw aside his bow and empty quiver. From the top of the stairs, they faced the imposing figure of Melanthus himself, the crown of Attica nestled in his hair. 

“Finally, little princeling. You have been not easy to find, as all cowards rarely are. So will you be man enough to face me and join your father and brothers in the banks of Acheron?” 

Rage gave Theseus strength. He made an attempt at reaching for his sword but his arm didn’t obey him, shooting a wave of pain through his entire body and making his knees waver. Instead, Newt stepped in front of him and tore Theseus’ sword from his sheethe. 

“Go!” He ordered, pressing the Palladium into his’ working hand. “Bring this to Athena. I will entertain him.” 

“You are not a swordsman!”

“Then hurry up, GO!” Newt yelled, turning to face Melanthus, Theseus’ sword clasped firmly in both hands. The usurper grinned at him like a predator, dismounting calmly, his own sword at the ready. He knew he had them, wounded and spent, outmatched. 

Theseus hesitated, he couldn't leave Newt to face that man by himself, he couldn’t let Melanthus take the one person he loved the most from him as well. 

“I won’t forgive you if you fail.” Newt gritted through his teeth and stepped down one step, just as Melanthus stepped up. And that did it, cursing himself and everything he knew, Theseus turned his back on them and ran inside the temple, past the magnificent columns ringed in lit torches and across the entire expanse of marble floor, as fast as his mangled legs could carry him, the Palladium burning like liquid fire in his hand, the forty feet tall statue of Athena Parthenos raising like a dormant giant over him, her serene features, pale alabaster skin and pure gold armor gleaming in the light of the torches and the first streak of a new day lighting up a thin stripe on the horizon behind her. In one harm she held the Aegis, carved into the likeness of Medusa, and in the other a human sized figure of Nike, the harbinger of Victory.

Theseus flew the past few steps on the last of his strength, collapsing at the feet of the statue, lungs and eyes, and every muscle in his body burning from the effort and the force of the impact, his bad arm pinned terribly under his chest. He didn’t care. With all the resilience he could summon from the upcoming dawn he pressed his trembling fingers to the stone. 

“Please, please, Athena. Lady of wisdom and war, Pallas Athena you who chose me as your champion. Please hear my prayer and accept your divine tears back. Please help us, we need you more than ever, great goddess. Please!” His voice broke, his throat too dry to keep talking and praying aloud, but he kept shouting the prayer in his head just as his tears smeared the cold feet of the stone statue under him, his body in absolute agony and hope leaving his heart. Nothing was happening, nothing would happen. Athens was done for, everything Theseus’ great-grandfather and his predecessors had built would fall. Nothing any of them went through would amount to anything. And he would be executed as well, here by the feet of Athena, at dawn no less. And maybe that was for the better, because surely Newt was probably dead already, he had never been good with a sword, how could he win without a miracle? Theseus couldn't, didn’t want, to live in a world without Newt. 

Then, his scattered attention picked up on something. 

Through his tears and dim vision he felt more than saw a light, like a kindling bonfire raising from a single spark. From within, the marble was heating up like real skin, dimming and raising in a surge of energy, like a beating heart. Confused, Theseus raised his head and his hand, where the Palladium had been clutched in. It was gone. There was no trace of the talisman anywhere, but the figure of Athena was definitely pulsating with energy. Every surge more powerful than the last, it washed through Theseus’ body, filling him with warmth and alleviating his pain. He raised his right hand to touch the statue and only then realized it didn’t ache anymore, and he could move it again. His bleeding wounds were closing, and even as he marveled at the serene power refilling his body with strength, a fine dribble of sand fell over his head. He raised his gaze and, dumbfounded, watched the figure of Nike come to life, crouch on her knees and extend her marble wings. With an ear-piercing crackle she leapt form Athena’s hand and dove in flight, shooting through the columns out of the temple. Theseus followed it with his gaze and then ran after her, his legs light and strong as he sprinted through the temple towards the front steps.

He stopped at the top of them, shocked by the scene that greeted him. Blood and human limbs, torn and scattered in a grotesque mess all over the temple’s steps. At their feet stood Newt, his face expressionless and eyes milky grey and distant.  In one hand he held his borrowed sword — the same that Theseus had stolen from a pirate at the illicit market and used to commit his first murder, the same sword that had proven a worthy companion through Thrace, Troy and tonight — and Melanthus’s severed head grasped by the hair in another. And just as Theseus watched, his wounds closed, mending themselves at the speed of a flower opening under the sun, and color returned to his eyes, as if he had just been awoken from a bottomless dream. 

Newt tilted his head slowly, regarding the carnage like an old acquaintance he tried to figure out the name of. “I did this” He said uncertainly “I don’t know how, I was going to die and then, I don’t know where it came from, the strength, the skill, the rage. I… was not… myself-” 

He turned to look down at the city at their feet. Bathing in the rising sun it felt different than mere minutes ago. Something had changed, something neither of them could put into words. Nike flew in circles over the buildings, flapping her stone wings and at her wake every Athenian citizen, every man, woman, senior and child spilled out of their homes. Even from that far away Theseus knew instinctively that they were not answering for themselves. They were possessed by a cold ire that drove them to take up every weapon and utensil underhand and charge, not only to kill, but to tear apart and stomp over. Not blindly, but dirty, fighting like a beehive, relentless, merciless, brutal but coordinated, an entire city on a rise, an army under divine command, filled with divine energy and spite. And those who did not fight were putting down fires, closing the gates or setting traps.

Most of them would not remember even half of it, none of them would understand what happened that night or what made them lose control at dawn. Simple folks, children and their mothers coming to themselves hours later covered in gore and smolder, their streets drenched in blood and a newfound fear of their own capability that would drive the city to bury that day in the annals of silenced history.  

Theseus lowered himself on the top step, just as Newt came to kneel between his thighs. He had ditched the severed head, but picked up the crown first, a circlet of gold and silver that he gently deposited on Theseus’ head. “I think this belongs to you now, my king.” 

Theseus took Newt’s trembling hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss the knuckles despite the blood smeared over them. “Will you stay by my side, as my queen?”

Newt smiled tenderly at him despite still being shaken by his unwitting brutality, and leaned in for a kiss, soft and gentle, so in dissonance with everything that happened to them in the past two months. “I will stay, as your companion, your advisor. But remember what mother said? Dire times are coming, civilization will crumble, the wisdom of our forefathers may be forgotten.” 

“I guess we have a job to do then.” Theseus grinned, in his eyes a pool of love and affection shining like the aurora. He kissed his beloved again, pulling him closer by the waist and combing his formerly injured hand through copper hair. “You and me, together. To fulfill the last lines of our prophecy.”

“Is that an order, Your Majesty?”

“To you, it’s a promise.”

Chapter Text

Thebes, the seven-gated wonder citadel that stood tall and proud since the beginning of recorded times. Founded by Cadmus, the first great hero of their civilization. He who had slain the dragon and seeded its teeth in the earth to raise a race of warriors, he who brought the gift of the alphabet and built a commercial network that connected all city-states, that his descendants extended throughout mainland Achaea and its islands. He was the grandfather of the god Dionysus and the father of Ino, known as the goddess Leucothea. Throughout history, Thebes became the site of the most tragic and grandiose stories of their time, the home of Oedipus and the birthplace of Heracles, but the proud citizens of the First City never forgot their founder's legacy, worshiping knowledge, culture and art. 

But that was ancient past. Now, a good chunk of the once impenetrable wall lay collapsed and the palace on the top of the hill ruined and abandoned. The streets here mostly empty and the few people that lived there, descendants of Achaeans and barbarians alike, had forgotten what Thebes had once stood for. The commercial routes that had made the region rich had been abandoned as well. Once the throne fell, so did the order and army that protected them, leaving the roads to the mercy of bandits and thieves. And without roads — there’s no bronze. 

Not for the first time, Theseus was glad that he had decided years ago to abandon the difficult alloy of copper and tin, both imported goods difficult to obtain nowadays, and invest in Iron. In the previous times it had been overlooked, being so much harder to work with, but Attica had natural sources and the risk paid off. 

The iron chest plates and spear tips of the safeguard glistened under the sun with a cold grey light, reminiscent of the eyes of the goddess Athena, as they passed Thebes, leaving its wreckage behind. One day it would rise from its ashes, be a rival and a threat to Athens anew, a city like that should, but not for a long time yet. 

Mount Parnassos, the home of Delphi, where once a line of hundreds of petitioners queued at its ridge every day, waiting their turn to leave their tribute and be admitted within the cave where an oracle of Apollo sat upon a three-legged chair amidst volcanic fumes and recited prophecies. Now not a single soul wasted time with such frugalities, maybe once in a while a warlord or a struggling nobleman still holding fort made its way to the sacred cave wondering when would he have a male heir or whom would kill him, but not today. 

Parnassos was nothing compared to mount Olympus, however, as it rose above the skies, even seen from far away, its summit shielded in clouds on the horizon while the furious sea broke over the steep rocks surrounding the cliffs their convoy was travelling on. Time long ago, Bellerophon tried to reach the home of the gods on the back of Pegasus but plummeted to his death on these same rocks. 

For the past sixty years Bellerophon, alongside Heracles, Jason and his Great-grandfather had become great inspiration for Theseus… on what not to do. “Look at Perseus” Newt would remind him every time Theseus got some crazy idea into his head. “He knew when to stop, he never allowed himself succumb to hubris. Our time is yet to come, my love, but not if we fail on our one and only task.” 

Abdera, the stronghold of culture and order in midst of savagery, once ruled by a pair of siblings that had saved their lives, so, so long ago. Newt insisted on visiting the memorial site of Albus and Minerva, tears welling up in his half-blind eyes. At least they haven’t lived long enough to see their work crumble when the nobleman elected to succeed the childless king opened the gates to the barbarians. Abdera had remained Athens’s sister city and closest ally until the very end, but no help sent in shape of men or money had been enough to alleviate the siege.

However, the citadel was starting to full up with life again, a strong citizen guard holding up the fort. Trade and artisan crafts, as well as iron-working, shyly picking up strength again. Abdera may have lost its glamour and former glory, but not its potential. It would take centuries, but the Herculean city would stand, with any luck, as a great ally to Attica again.

They passed many other towns and cities, some destroyed, some taken over, some that they remembered, some that they didn’t. Thrace hadn’t changed much — there was nothing much to lose where there hadn’t been much to begin with. The only difference was that no bandits dared to attack the two old men guarded by thirty fully armored soldiers. 

An exaggeration? Theseus thought so, but Medon had insisted. He was a prudent young man, so prudent in fact that he didn’t want to rule as king, believing the title to be bad luck ever since his father, Codrus, perished in times of siege because of some rumored prophecy. Theseus had abdicated in favor of his nephew and adopted son a couple years prior, remaining as advisor in the court, but had been forced to wear the crown again after Codrus got himself killed. It had been a difficult time for the family, but kingship in wartime left little time for grief. Meanwhile, Newt might have overdrilled the virtues of caution into the young heir’s head. 

It was just as well, prudence and stability was all Attica needed now. Theseus had set the base for Athenian resistance, changed its economic system, reinforced the pledged towns, built new, safer trade relations, invested in civic innovation, but above all, spent decades of rule doing everything in his power to preach the priority of teaching writing, history and science to the next generations. 

“Only this way will Athena keep protecting us” Newt repeated to the nobles and administrators every time they questioned their sponsorship of philosophers and artists instead of planning an expansion of the kingdom. “The world our ancestors built with the help of the gods is going down, but Athens must be the vault that preserves its secrets and knowledge. We must be the bridge between our past and our future. We must reach out to our neighbors and remind them what their lands had done to prosper yesteryear, not surrender them by force. We must be the beacon of culture in this new era of illiteracy, and trust the gods to protect us from savagery.” 

One day, that protection would be stolen, Theseus had seen it in a dream, with trickery by a foreign superpower. But they would take more than a statue with them. Fascinated, they would carry the culture, history and religion of the conquered aegean lands back home, embrace it and seed it over their own domains. Millennia later, some of those would grow into great empires themselves and the Achaean legacy, never forgotten, just as Athena had intended,  would spread through whole new worlds, taking roots and interlacing into the western civilization’s sense of self. The finale Theseus and Newt had set in motion would persevere, surviving everything history threw at it, from these current dark ages and beyond, fulfilling the last two lines of their prophecy. 

But for now, Theseus was happy to see that not everywhere the past few decades had brought only destruction and fall from grace. The once deserted plains and hills surrounding Troy were peppering up with villages and new towns, built by the Hittites, Achaeans, Thracians, Dorians, and a multitude of peoples that had come together to populate an area they realized was not haunted anymore. The old ruins themselves still stood alone and dark, slowly rotting away, but the river Simoeis had gained a couple bridges and a few fishermen sat mending nets by its banks. 

Theseus called for Newt’s attention, they grinned at each other. “I can feel it too.” He whispered, excitement lighting up his wrinkled face. 

“This is it, captain.” Theseus turned to the head of their guard. “You can return home now. We will continue on our own from here on.” 

“But sir!” The man’s eyes widened in confusion behind his helmet. 

“It’s alright.” Theseus raised his hand.  The Archon Basileus knows we will not be coming back from this journey. Thank you for all these weeks of good service, please continue to serve your state with the same dedication you did for us.”

“Sir, we can’t just leave you alone here! It’s dangerous, and you're not in shape for-” He shut up, but Theseus smirked. He knew what the captain was thinking. How could a pair of geriatric old men, — one of them almost blind — and unable to saddle horses for more than a couple hours before needing a break, walk these lands alone? Even if they were notoriously strong for their age, it was an extremely advanced age, rarely seen these days.

“The sun is going down, at least let us camp with you tonight.”

Theseus shook his head. The timing was just perfect. “These are the last orders you will ever receive from me, Atticans. And they are not complicated, are they?” He smiled widely.

The soldiers exchanged puzzled looks, hesitating, but finally, the captain dismounted his horse. With the reins in one hand and his spear in the other he took a knee and bowed low.

The rest of the company followed his example. All of them getting off their horses and paying respects. The old king left behind a legacy difficult to surpass. Every one of these men, and for some even their parents, had been born already under Theseus’ rule. Not to be any less, Newt had been the heart and head of civic and religious life of Attica for just as long, half the temples in the kingdom had been built after his orders and just as many public buildings. In many ways, this final goodbye felt more like an end of an era for them than the collapse of the entire Achaean civilization.

Still, there they remained, inmobile, kneeling at the other end of the Simoeis bridge until Newt and Theseus wandered out of eyeshot, faithfully obeying their last orders.

Newt and Theseus had no intention of camping. They did as much distance as they could during the night, periodically stopping to rest, Theseus holding Newt’s reins so he wouldn't accidentally guide his horse off a cliff, until it was time to release the mounts. By the time the mares found their way back to the safeguard party, as they’ve been trained to do, their riders would long be gone. 

A hundred steps away, Scamander glistened under the full moon like a current of diamonds, no longer infected with a raging god, clean and full of life again, but nevertheless empty in another way, an absence that pulled on the air around it, calling for a purpose it was yet to live up to. The closer it got, the more welcoming felt the water. Even as they sat at its banks appreciating the scent of camomile flowers in the air and reminiscing of the first time they’ve been in that place. 

“Together?” Theseus finally told Newt, as he helped him to carefully get up. They interlaced their elbows for support and stepped into the river at it shallowest point, just as the first streak of light broke the horizon. With the rising sun at their backs they walked towards the sea. The river bed tricky and slippery, but the water current swirled around helping to support them even as every step got easier and easier. 

Theseus glanced at Newt, who was blinking in amazement as the milky whiteness retracted from his corneas, his once perfect vision returning, the first sun rays getting tangled in his hair and dying the white strands in a bounty of red copper, his skin clearing up and posture getting more confident, stronger and taller with every step he took deeper into the delta. 

Theseus could feel the same happening to him, his arms and legs got stronger, his spine didn’t hurt anymore, his lips felt full and smooth when he licked the salt breeze off them.

His senses were sharpening as well, he could hear a dog barking somewhere from the clouds and see a bird gliding circles over their heads, casting shadows on the surface like a vulture. But it was not a vulture, it was an owl, and it was waiting.

And weren’t deltas just so nice? A magic spot where the river came back to the sea as nature intended. They were chest-deep now, the freshwater mixing with the salt currents of the bay in an underwater dance around their bodies that burned on the surface like liquid gold. For Newt, who was taller than an hour ago but still shorter than Theseus, one step would be it. He turned to his partner, looking not a day older than he had when they killed a god in these waters sixty years ago; red hair and sea green eyes and a skyscape of freckles on the bridge of his nose. He pulled him down for a kiss, all the decades of devotion, love and codependency poured into that simple contact of lips. 

“Whatever happens” Theseus whispered into the air between them “I love you.”

The smile that Newt gave him spoke more volumes than any word. He clasped their hands firmly and surged forward, pulling Theseus after him. 

The urge to fight against drowning was overwhelming, just like it had been during that storm, after falling from the mooncalf. But he let go, let the water fill his lungs and his world went dark as he closed his eyes. 

And when he opened them again it was to a completely different kind of light, filled with colors and shapes that no moral could ever imagine. 

He and Newt were standing on the surface of the sea, still hand in hand, as the Scamander delta came alive and bowed down to their presence. In front of them, a woman of flaming red hair and saffron robes beamed at them around the silver tears running down her face, opening her arms and wings, to welcome them into her warm embrace and her world. 

.