Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Music (Basically Tarzan soundtrack)

Son of man

You’ll be in my heart 

The whole camp was once again filled with triumphant roars and shouts of victory after the two favored duo of Athene came back with the Palladium. Menelaus soon joined the other commanders as the announcement of their return reached his ears. Strangely, apart from the objective of the infiltration, Diomedes was also carrying another being with him, a child to be exact, being wrapped neatly in a thin blanket. Before Agamemnon and Menelaus could even ask anything, the king of Argos suddenly locked his intense gaze on the younger brother, and after a brief exchange the child was handed to Odysseus, who now walked toward them. 

“ Menelaus, a word.” The king of Ithaca said and seeing the urgency in his eyes, Menelaus complied. Agamemnon turned to them, seemingly wanting to say something but the king of Sparta just shook his head, and led Odysseus away, toward his own camp, distancing themselves from the celebrating crowd.

Only after they entered the king’s hut and all of the slaves and guards were sent away, did Odysseus start to lay the unconscious child directly on Menelaus’ bed and gently unwrapped the blanket to slowly reveal the face. The short curly auburn hair revealed itself, now reflecting fully in Menelaus’ red brown eyes, whose body had now frozen as if he was facing the Gorgon Medusa. 

“ Helen helped us find the Palladium,” Odysseus finally said something, “ And in exchange, your son will be brought here.”

“ My son,” Menelaus repeated mindlessly, his eyes never left the unconscious child.

Odysseus nodded, looking with the gaze full of empathy and sadness at his friend. He patted the man lightly on the shoulder before turning on his feet to leave.

“ She said you would know what to do.” He breathed out the final word of Helen as Menelaus’ face turned to him in confusion. “I’ll leave you two to it, but if you need to talk, then you know where to find me.”

And with that the king of Ithaca left the younger son of Atreus with the newfound child, alone in the storm of emotions raging inside the man’s mind.

Menelaus didn’t know how long he was standing in front of the child until his mind stopped thinking in statics, and for once there were some types of thoughts that he could name.

A child.

A son.

His son.

Born within the walls of Troy, been living within those walls all this time. For ten years. Ten years with only a wall and a battlefield apart. Why? How? What happened to them? How is he here? Why is he here? Why now? What now ?

He needs a drink.

“Care to explain why the king of Sparta decided to grace me with his company now? In the middle of the night?” Diomedes, who was somehow sharpening his sword while sitting on the edge of the bed, now looked at him quizzically, as Menelaus entered his place with a sack of wine in hand. Ignoring the owner of the hut’s pointed look, he waltzed inside as if he owned the hut and dumped himself on a chair nearby, which was pillowed with soft animal furs.

“Because Diomedes my friend, you can’t judge, scold or gossip even when your life depends on it.” He started drinking directly from the sack. “Now let me be.”

Diomedes looked back at the other man with an unreadable expression, but did not say anything further. He stood up and put the sword away, then returned with his own sack of wine and two cups. The king of Argos raised one toward Menelaus, only for the man to slap his hand away in annoyance, yet he did not take any offense in it, but simply put the cups neatly on the table between the bed and the chair Menelaus was sitting on. The wine was poured in one of them, and then Diomedes joined the drink with the other man in mutual silence.

The wine and the silent company dulled Menelaus’ mind enough to stop it from spiraling deeper along the flow of the whirlpool of emotions that was lurking right beneath the surface. Yet whenever his mind started drifting away from its shaky anchor of numbness, the same images would always came back to him:

“This cursed family. Sometimes, I wonder if there’s an escape.”

“ And do you know what it’s like when freedom is taken away from you!?”

“Mother! She’s gone! I- I tried to look for her, but-”

“You will both die for this. Remember my words Atreides.”

“What will you do when this is all over?Do you have the guts to do what it takes?”

“Your son-”

“You know what to do.”

...

“Talk to me.”

“What?”

“Just talk, please. Anything.” His voice cracked.

“Okay.”

“...”

“ Why did you drag Sthenelus into fishing the other day?”

“I didn’t do anything, he just went with us.”

“What actually happened, aside from the fact that the Argos camp suddenly had one giant tuna for dinner and my brother declared that he would, quote, “ never join the younger son of Atreus in any kind of activity " ?"

“The Myrmidon commander lured in a school of tuna, and I told Sthenelus to pull in one each. I had cramps on both my hands and legs, and he was dragged into the sea. Neoptolemus had to swim out to save him.”

“That explains things.” The man eyed him carefully. “He is not very fond of the ocean.”

“Nausea?”

“All the way from Aulis to Ilium.”

A weak laugh escaped his throat. “That’s horrible.”

“Okay this, this is ridiculous.” Another voice cut them both. Odysseus, who was now standing in front of the hut, arm crossed in disbelief, “Why is he here?”

“Why are you here?” Menelaus bit back tiredly.

“My nighttime scheming routine.” He leaned on the wooden frame of the entrance, “Stop drinking, you drunkards. I need your brain to function. And you, I told you to come to me.”

“You will judge the hell out of me.”

“I do that to everyone, now why are you here?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“The boy’s here now. You can’t just toss him aside and wait for some damn miracle that this mess can solve itself.”

“I know!” He also sat up and shouted back, almost toppled the chair, “I know. Just not today, please.”

The room became dead silent, except for the ragged breathing of the Spartan king, trying his best to hold onto the ground as the vortex of turmoil approached.

“I don’t know what to do.” He croaked out in the end, breathless, as if the sentence required his entire strength.

“Talk to him.” Odysseus began gently, he was now kneeling in front of Menelaus, whose eyes gaze mindlessly into the ground. “He is a child, now finding himself in a strange place, alone. He will be confused and scared. As a father, you have to show him that you welcome his appearance.”

“And what should I do with her?” His voice became more fragile, like glass.

“One step at a time, my friend.” The Ithacan king lightly touched his knee, “One step at a time.”

Megapentheses rubbed his eyes and tried to raise up his blanket to block out the sun, as daylight had found a way to shine its way into his chamber. His room was supposed to be graced with an old olive tree right next to the window, the light could have not even shone into it before noon. Strange. The blanket was too heavy for him to maneuver as well. The one on his bed was weaved by his own mother, so light yet warm enough for the autumn nights. The one that was draped over his shoulders, however, he could even smell some unpleasant scent in it. Heavy, and metallic, not flowery and soft like mother. Eugh.

Wait? The smell. The sound.The feeling. All wrong.

The young boy jolted up, his sleepiness vapourized into the air. In front of his eyes, the ceiling was no longer made of smoothly done stones, but rough wooden palettes patched together. The walls surrounding him,instead of polished tall marbles and detailed pillars, were now of wood and dirt.The soft curtains were no longer there,to float along the morning wind as usual, but swords, spears and shields, staining the already dark place with their smell of iron and foulness.

This is not his room.

Looking down on his knees, now lay the heavy blanket of animal fur being cut out unevenly, instead of soft cloth from his mother’s weaving hands. Something brighter lay underneath the ugly, heavy and smelly cover, something familiar. Megapenthes scrambled to pull it out. His blanket, his actual blanket, from mother, faint with his mother’s comforting scent. He hugged the cloth closely to his heart, the whiff of flowers and its softness grounded him. 

There were some incoherent shouts outside, like those in the front gate every morning. Mother never let him see what it was unfortunately, saying he was too young to witness. Curiosity got the best of him, and the boy sheepishly walked to the entrance, using his whole body to lift the curtain out of the place.

The scene that bombarded in his eyes was nothing he would ever expect: a sea of men, of soldiers, running back and forth, shouting numbers, barking orders at each other, carrying piles and piles of wood, and they all had that same scary look in their eyes. Of hunger, of determination, of something he did not know.

He should not cry.

He is ten.

He must be strong.

He must be brave, so that he could protect his mother.

Stop flowing at once! Stupid tears! Stupid nose! Stupid hiccups!

He did not notice a shadow now looming over his own. Tall, scary, murderous. His eyes met the ones of the shadow. 

“Hello.”

The boy immediately ran away as fast as his short legs could muster, ignoring the call of the man. His blanket of his mother’s scent was left on the dirty ground.

Menelaus was pacing back and forth in a storage tent near his own hut. No slaves, soldiers or commanders were allowed to see a king freak out over a small child. The boy should wake up at any time soon. What should he say when they meet?

Good morning, I am your father, Menelaus, king of Sparta. Sorry for disappearing for ten years of your life. Too formal.Too much. 

Hello, I am your father, Menelaus. I hope you like this place. Too short. And no child likes a soldier camp.

Hi-

“Woah!” 

“Woah!”

“My king.” A soldier was standing at the entrance, being as surprised and startled as he was, “Do you need something from here?”

“No. Ah, yes, yes,” He picked up some random stuff on the ground, “I require this!”

Really? A corn ? Great job Menelaus.

“I-see.” The soldier looked at the thing in his hand confusedly, “Do you need anything else?”

“No,” Menelaus answered hastily and quickly left the storage tent, “Keep up the good work!”

Only after the storage tent was faded from view did the king of Sparta continue with formulating his terrible greeting speech. Unbeknownst to him, his traitorous feet had carried the man right toward his own hut, and by the time the king realized it, he had already put half of his body through the entrance.

His body froze. His mind started to spiral. His face full of sweat. If he was to name one thing that these ten years of hellish war had taught, is that fear would always be there, to poison your mind, to turn your limbs to stone, to null your sense, yet a man would still be able to move, to fight and to win, even when his heart was of nothing but fear, by believing in the will of the gods, in the strings of fate, and most of all, by his sheer will and courage. 

If fate had decided now would be the time Menelaus faced the child of him and Helen, so be it. 

Breathing in a large gulf of air, the king put his other foot through the threshold and entered.

His bed was empty.

His room was empty.

He did not see the child.

His child had disappeared.

Menelaus ran.

Megapenthes ran and ran, until his throat dried, until his small legs tripped on themselves, until his face hit the ground below his feet. The sand entered his eyes and nose, and the boy futilely smeared them with his already sand covered arms, only for more sand to be spread over his face. The hiccups had not stopped, so did the tears.

He hates this place.

He wants his mother. 

Where is she?

Why has she left him here?

Where is she? 

Where-

A soft hand touched his arm, a soft and small hand like his mother, with a smell of flowers. 

His body froze. His wailing voice stopped. His breath hitched. The hand removed one of his sand stained arms out of his face. He let it.

It removed his other arm too, the final defense. He allowed it.

A voice uttered, full of warmth and gentleness, just like a warm meal after a cold day outside. “Close your eyes. Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you.” He knew she wouldn’t.

A damped cloth touched his face, swept the sand and dirt away. His eyes cracked open slightly.

The owner of the lovely voice and soft hands was kneeling in front of him. A beautiful woman with a kind smile.

“Now is better, isn’t it?”

He nodded with a weak smile. She started cleaning his arms as well, and his scratched knees. Her hand reached out to pull the boy up, and Megapenthes took it without question.

After brushing off the dirt on his clothes, she kneeled down again at his eye level.

“Do you want something to eat?”

He agreed.

He was led to a room almost similar to the one he woke up in, except there were no weapons to be found, only a bed at one end and a very large shield standing next to it. A warm meal with soup and bread was presented to him on a table in the middle of the room. The woman walked in first, her hand still held onto his.

She guided him onto the table and tucked him in like his mother always did. Brushing the wild locks on his forehead, she smiled warmly and the boy finally had enough courage to take the first bite.

The woman moved away all of a sudden, and Megapenthes’ hand dropped the bread to hold onto her dress. She turned back in surprise but realized immediately as her eyes landed on the stretched out arm. Taking his arm and the other pinched his cheek gently, she assured the scared child, “I’m not going anywhere, don’t worry.”

The boy’s arm lowered but his gaze did not leave her, even when she just maneuvered herself to sit on the chair to his left. He looked at her, expecting any questions coming out, yet it seemed his sudden appearance did not bother the woman, rather the fact he had not resumed eating, so Megapenthes being the dutiful child as he was, continued munching on the bread. Contently.

“What do you mean you don’t know!?” 

If Agamemnon being honest, he had thought the scream came from an Odysseus being woken up in the middle of the night again and had to stay up till sunrise, not from his little brother.

The king of men was in his hut, discussing with Odysseus himself regarding the final siege, until a roar from the Spartan camp made the both of them jump off their seats. Rushing toward his brother’s camp, he was bombarded with the scene of Menelaus shouting at his soldiers with his warcry voice, as his men all dropped whatever they were doing and scrambled in different directions.

“What’s happening here?” Odysseus asked but Agamemnon overlapped the question with his own, “Are you alright?”

Menelaus did not even spare a glance on both his worried brother and his concerned friend, rather kept shouting at his soldiers and slaves to go and find something.

As his patience ran out, the king of Mycenae grabbed his brother’s shoulder, forcing the other man to look him in the eye, “What’s wrong?”

“My son’s missing.” The other king finally surrendered to his brother’s insistence.

The elder brother’s eyes widened, “Your son!?”

The king of Ithaca seemed to have picked up on something, as he suddenly ran off to his camp after shouting, “I’ll call for help!”

“You don’t have a-” Wrong. Menelaus does now.The child from yesterday. The one that Odysseus brought back along with the Palladium. His little brother’s eyes were now looking at him, glittering with helplessness and desperation, just like ten years ago, when he lost Helen, or decades ago, when their mother was gone. The long years of age and experience could help Menelaus hide his tears and pain from the world, but not from Agamemnon. “What does your son look like?”

The thundering sounds of thousands footsteps alerted both Tecmessa and Megapenthes in the hut of the late mighty Ajax son of Telamon. The boy had just finished his meal and  now was introduced to the little Eurysaces, while Tecmessa watched them play around the giant shield in content.

Eurysaces eagerly clapped his hands along the sound of the footsteps, but Megapenthes tensed up and looked at Tecmessa in plea.

Signaling the boy to stay put, she stood up and went to the door. Her eyes peeked out as the door was pushed open slightly. There was some sort of commotion all over the place. The soldiers were not preparing for any attack, but rather trying to find something. There were strange men entering as well.Strange.

Suddenly a shadow of a man blocked out her peripheral vision.Teucer, Ajax’ brother. He was scratching the back of his head. His eyes bore to the ground.

“Tecmessa!” He called out. “Can we talk?”

“Little one,” Shutting the door tightly again, Tecmessa rushed back to the boys, “You have to leave.”

“Is someone here?” The boy asked worriedly.

“Yes, and I don’t know if it’s safe for him to see you. He’s a good man but we can’t be certain.”

“Tecmessa!”

“I need you to go through the backdoor,” Her hand guided the boy toward the very back of the room, behind the curtains on the left of the bed, there was a door that led to the training ground, “And to the hollow ships. Soldiers are thinner there. Stay hidden until I come for you.” 

The boy nodded and ran through the curtain, which was now opened for him. Only to halt his steps right after and look back at her, “Promise?”

“Promise.” She smiled warmly, “Now go, before anyone sees you.”

The child beamed with reassurance and relief, and his little legs started to carry him away. Tecmessa’s eyes followed his childish form until it disappeared among the tents, only then did she return to the front door and welcome Teucer.

“My apologies,” She mustered the most innocent smile on her face, “Is there anything you need from me?”

“Do you happen to see a small boy, about ten years old with red hair?” He asked sheepishly.

Oddly and suspiciously specific.

“No. I am here with my son at all times. Why?”

“He’s someone’s kid. Agamemnon made all of the camp go find him.”

“Maybe that’s his.” She giggled and he laughed as well. But no, Tecmessa refused to believe that sweet child was Agamemnon’s. She would fight the gods for that.

“Good point. How’s Eurysaces?” 

“Why not see him for yourself?” The door was opened wide and the toddler smiled as the eyes of the superb archer met his own. With his wobbly little legs, the only son of the late mighty Ajax ran into the opened arms of his dear uncle.

“Finding another kid?” Sthenelus was not having a good day. Like at all.

Right up the bat, the moment he opened his eyes this morning, he thought he was blessed with another day off, no fighting, no killing since the Trojans had lost so many fights terribly that they preferred to stay within the wall for another day. But no, Neoptolemus had to show up at the crack of dawn, kicked open the door of his hut and demand co-op training between Myrmidon and Argos. A valid, noble excuse even, in the eyes of the outsiders, but the soldiers of the two camps all knew what it was for: another rematch between him and Diomedes. Probably boxing this time.

Why not call Diomedes only? His Dio had always loved a good spar, just call the man and let Sthenelus have his beauty sleep.

Even better? Diomedes had the nerves to show up and refuse the kid, because he needed to scheme something with Odysseus! But he still let the kid lead the co-op training!

And of course, the Myrmidon commander was livid, but he could not release his rage on the king of Argos, so the poor soldiers of both camps suffered in his stead. The godlike man fought everyone at the same time, things got worse as predicted, and Sthenelus had to run off and fetch Diomedes in the middle of his scheming with Agamemnon and Odysseus.

Agamemnon gave Diomedes an earful about “letting the youngster commanding him”, and typical Diomedes just shrugged, so Sthenelus once again had to stand up for his brother. Yet he was not allowed to say the last words because Euryalus arrived to announce things got even worse than the moment he left!

Diomedes returned to camp and saved the day like the hero he always was, only for Neoptolemus to sulk and storm off somewhere. And disappeared for 6 hours straight, and still counting. 

The old general Phoenix was the one who freaked out first. He flipped their whole camp upside down and found nothing, even at Achilles and Patroclus’ tomb. At least the teen’s late father could be found either on his ship or in his hut. It seemed the new commander had an innate ability to vaporize out of thin air whenever he pleased.

Desperated, the old man turned to the Argives to help, in which Diomedes, being the great hero as he always was, agreed again. To avoid greater commotions, only Sthenelus and Euryalus were sent to find him, as usual.

The moment Eurylochus of Ithaca appeared in front of the camp, with his face full of sweat and being a bit out of breath, the second commander of the Argives could already feel the arrival of another catastrophe. However, courtesy did not allow him to leave the man unanswered, so he reluctantly approached the other second commander,

“Is there a new message from Odysseus?”

“Worse, from Agamemnon. Where’s your king?”

“Busy. Just tell me and I will deliver the words.”

“Fine, either way I’ll have to run to Lesser Ajax soon. If you find a boy, about ten years old with auburn hair, bring it to him or Menelaus.”

The Atreides knew Neoptolemus was missing? Dear Zeus, spare him.

“Look, just tell them we’re trying our best to find Neoptolemus, we did not know he would react like that.”

“No, that’s not- Neoptolemus is missing too!?” Eurylochus cried out. 

“Ten years old, red hair, who else can that be?” 

“No! Not him. Another one!” 

“There’s another one!?”

Menelaus had turned up every corner of his camp, of Agamemnon’s camp, of every single camp on the left side of the whole Achaean camp. Three times. The only things he could find were a blanket that was wrapped around the boy yesterday, which was left near on the ground near his hut, and Helen’s knife which was found on his bed.

Clutching the two into his hands, he took a silent walk along the beach with the hollow ship to cool himself down, after almost punching Teucer in the face.

Inspecting the soft fabric and the fainting smell, he could tell it was her handiwork. She had improved a lot, the king chuckled slightly, as the sight of a frustrated Helen filled his mind, trying to recreate some flowery patterns that she had seen her mother did.

She picked up weaving again during her first pregnancy, when she could not move around much, when they could still look at each other in the eyes, when they still talked to each other about their haunting pasts, when everything was, dare he say it out loud, perfect.

Then his eyes landed on the knife, the final gift he gave her, not out of love, but out of precaution, of fear, of cowardice. Menelaus dared to think that their love, her love, was not stronger than his family curse, and now he paid dearly for it. She had found someone new, someone better, whose love was strong enough for her to relinquish her status, to leave her home and abandon her family to run off to a distant land. He wanted to kill the both of them for what they had done, to punish Paris for stealing his wife and riches, for betraying his hospitality and xenia, to punish Helen for running away with another man, for making him and his daughter suffer. Those were the ugly thoughts that drove him during these ten miserable years, helping him survive countless bloodsheds, injuries and pain. Yet, seeing the child sleeping soundly on his bed last night, Menelaus’ previous convictions all but crumbled down to ashes. Why him? Why did Paris let the child live? Why gave the boy to him? Why now? Why agreed to punish herself? Did she run away on her own account, or was there divine intervention aiding Paris? What did she want then? What does she want now?

You know what to do.

No, I don’t. I don't.

“I don't.” His tired whisper was drowned by the tumbling waves and the creaking hollow ships.

“Don’t what?”

Apparently he was not the only one on the beach, as the king of Argos now standing face to face with the Spartan king. It seemed he had done some walking on his part as well.

“It’s nothing. Did you find anything?”

“No. The boy still eludes me.”

“Why are children so difficult?” Menelaus dropped himself onto the sand. 

“It’s in their nature to be.” Diomedes sat down next to him.”They’re still figuring out themselves. And it’s the adult’s job to-”

“Guide them to the right path. Yes, but what if,” He looked down at the knife in his right hand, " the adult is also lost in his course to the future? How can a lost man be someone’s guide?”

Silence engulfed the space between them, as both of the kings were deep in thoughts, fighting their own kind of storms.

Megapenthes soon arrived at the beach, where a thousand giant hollow ships of the Achaeans slumbered like giant beasts from the edges of the world, the sounds of the wood creaking harmonizing with the dousing of thousands waves against the sandy beach and the howling wind of the open sea like the growl from the beasts’ throats. There were a few soldiers on deck, so he decided to walk along the keels to avoid being seen. The boy followed along the length of one ship as quietly as he could, and unbeknownst to him, towards the deeper water. Water started reaching his mouth and nose, so the boy tried his best to raise up his neck and inhale every small gulf of air.

Megapenthes’ feet suddenly tripped and his head was completely submerged, water entered his mouth and nose. His eyes burned. His arms and legs waved and kicked in desperation. Yet he could not sense any of the ship or the sea bed nearby. 

His limbs burned in protest, his mind screamed in panic, his soul yearned for a safe haven to land. His whole body was cold, he wanted to go home, to his mother, to his soft bed and large room, to the soft blanket and the nighttime story of his father. His vision blurred with the blue color of the ocean, just like the blue curtains of his room. It was beautiful. Maybe he had gone home. Maybe none of this happened, maybe it was just one of his dreams.

All of a sudden the boy was jerked violently out of the water and into something rock-like. Something else hit his chest, as strong as a kick from a little faun. Megapenthes coughed out water. Another hit, and the boy turned his face sideways to cough out whatever liquid still resided in his stomach. Tilting his face forward once again, he could make out a face which was blocking out the sun from his blurry vision, and red hair, blue eyes, with more hint of green than his own. A grown man. His body was fully drenched, as if he had just taken a dive.

“You good?”

He could only nod weakly.

“Speak up,” The man said sternly.

“I’m- alright. Thank you.” He whispered weakly.

A shout from a bunch of soldiers alerted the both of them. The man’s eyes snapped toward the direction where the sound came from, like a wild wolf picking up on the sound of its prey. The sound became louder and louder. The men were coming toward them.

The man swiftly stood up to leave for the sea. The water only reached his knees when Megapenthes hastily rose up as well and tried to follow him.

“Sir, please let me join you!”

The man did not even turn back and kept walking. Megapenthes ran into the water, ignoring his fear of being drowned,

“Please, they’re after me too! Don’t leave me here!”

The older teen abruptly stopped and looked back at the little child. Turquoise of the great Aegea met the blue of Sparta. 

The sea.

For ten years Megapenthes had heard of the sea.

The vast body of water that surrounded Ilium, but also provided it with plenty of resources. The domain of unparalleled danger, but also unimaginable beauty. The place of treacherous storms, bloodthirsty sharks and unconquerable monsters, but also of eternal adventures, of timeless stories, of riches and color.

His mind had dreamt of it. His hand could never reach it, but now, grabbing tight onto his new acquaintance as the man swam along the coast, Megapenthes’ eyes tried to capture the magnificent sight of the open celestial sky of red and orange meeting the dark-wine sea on one side, whilst meeting the land on the other.

The flock of birds flew past them, squeaking and calling each other happily. Fish swam right next to them, as if trying to race against the older teen. Water splashed into the little boy’s face as he dared to reach his hand out to touch them.

“You swim so fast!” He shouted excitedly.

“I am the grandson of the goddess Thetis, daughter of the Old Man of the Sea. Of course I understand the way of the oceans.”

“You’re of divine’s blood. How cool!”

“Watch this.” The teen abruptly stopped and created some animal-like sounds. As if per command, a bunch of seals appeared from under the depth and resurfaced around them.

The older teen reached out to touch one of the seal's noses, and it squealed back like a dog meeting its owner. Megapenthes’ hand crept out timidly, but the other teen’s firm hand caught it and guided toward the friendly seal. The animal swam toward his hand, and he could feel its oily fur and warm blood underneath. An uncontrollable laugh escaped his throat, and by the time Megapenthes realized, he was trying to high five the seals on their noses.

The seals soon said goodbye and started swimming toward the horizon. The man also turned himself around and kept swimming further away.

“Where are we going?” Megapenthes asked worriedly.

“Nowhere.”

“Are you upset?”

“No.” 

“Alright.”

“Why are they after you?” The man asked him back.

“I don’t know. I just ran when they came to me.”

“Then why were you running?”

“I don’t know.”

The man stopped abruptly in the middle of the ocean. Megapenthes’ arms crawled into his shoulders and neck for leverage.

“Answer or swim back by yourself.”

“I really don’t know!”

His hand came up to remove Megapenthes’ own out of his neck. The boy clutched even tighter.

“I don’t know!” He cried out uncontrollably, “I was home last night, and then today I am here. I don’t know this place! I don’t know anyone and everyone looks scary, and I want my mother!”

Neoptolemus’ eyes widened in realization. His hand released Megapenthes’ smaller one.  “No one in this Achaean fleet is more scary than I am. Tell me if anyone bothers you.”

The child spoke between hiccups, “Really?”

“Really.”

“Thank you sir.”

“The name’s Neoptolemus, son of Achilles, commander of the Myrmidons. Tell me yours.”

“Megapenthes, son of king Menelaus of Sparta.”

“Are you afraid of me now?”

Was he? His heart was thundering in his chest, his mind was spinning as if he was inside a whirlwind, his lung was trying to grasp in even more air.

“No commander!”

“That’s more like it.”

The whole afternoon.

The camp was turned upside down for a whole afternoon, because of one child. None could find a ten year old with red hair per Agamemnon’s description. Some suggested the possibility of being drowned or captured, but after seeing the king of men’s wrath, shutting their mouths would be a better choice. The rest of the fleet decided it would be the wisest choice to just keep looking, even when the chance was slim. 

Menelaus was exhausted by sundown. All day, looking over camp, flipping up every tent, every hut, every stone he could see. He even endangered himself by scouting on the battlefield in between. Nothing.There was still no sight of the child. 

He wandered aimlessly along the Achaean camp, until Odysseus abruptly stopped him in the middle of his path.

“Get lost.” He said weakly.

“Not before you eat something.” Odysseus pointed toward the nearest kitchen.

“Never.”

“Then eat my salty fish.”

“No.”

“Either the food in the kitchen or the fish. Pick your poison.”

Suddenly an owl call reached their ears. Odysseus put his hands around his mouth, and he answered back with a similar call. Another call, a confirmation of sorts.

“To Achilles and Patroclus’ tomb. We have company.” His gray eyes met Menelaus’.

And both of them sprung toward the destination.

“Why do you have to climb like this?” Megapenthes asked, whose arm and legs wrapped around the older teen like an annoying octopus, whilst the Myrmidon commander climbed up, along the cliff right under his father’s tomb. 

“Why do you ask so much, little hitchhiker?” The man retorted.

“My arms are sore.” He answered in earnest. The Myrmidon commander bristled.

A sound from above startled both of them. The sound of footsteps. Neoptolemus signaled the younger boy to be quiet.

“I know you’re here.” Neoptolemus jolted, and leaned himself flatly against the cliff. His eyes widened. 

“Who’s that?” Megapenthes mouthed to the other teen, but the man was still being frozen to the core.

A soft sigh. “If you are ready, meet me at the training ground tonight. We will try to talk things out.”

“Never.” Muttered the son of Achilles after a minute of thought, and his hold on the rocks loosened. Gravity welcomed them.

“Wait wait wait, Neo!” Megapenthes screamed out of his lungs. They were free falling! 

Neoptolemus maneuvered to clutch the young lost prince to his chest and fell into the deep sea with his back first. The water splashed all the way up along the cliff, reaching the tomb, and Diomedes. 

“Understood.”

“Diomedes!” Menelaus called out and grabbed onto the Argives’ shoulders as soon as he reached the man. The king of Argos was standing in front of the former trio’s tomb, his head facing the wide ocean below. “What did you see? Who did you find? Tell me!”

“Your son is safe and sound-” 

“Then where is he?” He shook the man’s shoulders hard. Odysseus jumped in and separated the two.

“Where is he, Diomedes?” The Ithacan king asked carefully, after Menelaus finally released the other king.

“With Neoptolemus.” The king of Argos answered. “They seem to accompany each other willingly.”

“They won’t return anytime soon, will they?” Odysseus eyed the man.

“No. At least not tonight.” Diomedes answered, and then looked Menelaus directly in the eyes, who was ready to charge at him again with a lesser intent.

“Perhaps it’s for the best to let them be, with the strongest man of Greece as company, there is nothing to worry about.” Odysseus turned fully to Menelaus, blocking him from Diomedes, “He has someone his age to talk to, it will help with this sudden change of environment. Besides, Neoptolemus is the strongest man of Achaeans, your son will be safe by tomorrow.”

“But-”

“You can talk to him tomorrow with a clearer mind, and a fresher perspective. Us adults can wait for a night, can’t we? ”

“Yes.” Surprisingly it was Diomedes who answered, and with a quick turn he left the cliff. “See you two tomorrow.”

“See? He gets it.” The king of Ithaca beamed up a bit. 

Menelaus laughed bitterly. He was trying to be brave today, he had tried to believe in fate, in the gods. He had decided to meet his son, even with tons of questions weighing in his mind. But his own son had decided not to do the same. And what could he do but agree?

The boy was not ready, then it was the father’s duty to patiently wait for him.

“Your words are sound. I shall go back and wait.”

“That’s more like it.” His friend patted his shoulders playfully.

“I might need some words of advice as well.” His gaze rose, meeting Odysseus. “I wonder if the favored one of Athene is available.”

“Always.”

“Wanna get Diomedes?”

“What? One is not enough for you?”

“He looks like he might need some words from the wise Odysseus too.”

“Pfft. Sure. Go get your man, I’ll prepare the wine. This is going to be a long night.”

Chapter Text

  The stars were glittering above them, as if his mother’s jewelry was being used to decorate the dark sky of Nyx herself. The freezing wind brushed over his hair and face. The waves flapped gently along the coast, the moving water reflected the moonlight and the stars every now and then. And Neoptolemus was alarmingly quiet, even more subdued than when they first met.The man had not uttered any word after dropping both of them off a five meter cliff and then swimming for an hour nonstop. 

His turquoise eyes were fixed onto the unknown path ahead. 

A sneeze from Megapenthes disrupted their pregnanting silence.

“Sorry,” The boy rubbed his nose, “It’s a bit cold.”

Neoptolemus said nothing, but his speed immediately doubled. 

After a while, they reached an abandoned beach, significantly smaller than the one on which the Achaeans camped. The small hills surrounding it offered a sense of seclusion and quietness, and on the left end, there was a small cave digging deep under one of the hills. 

Neoptolemus’ legs touched the ocean ground first, and Megapenthes hung like a tired monkey on his back as the teen crossed the sandy ground to walk into the cave. 

From the outer perspective, the cave looked just as deserted as the whole place, yet as the boy was carried deeper inside, he could make out under the moon and starlight some primitive wooden spears, a fireplace in the middle of the cave, partially filled with wood, a fairy secluded sleeping quarter on the higher on the right, with pots of fresh water lying in the other corner.

”Is this where you live?” He asked innocently. And as an nonverbal answer, he was shaken mercilessly into the ground.

”I am the commander of one of the biggest armies of the Greek fleet, and you think this rundown place is my hut!?” 

“You brought me here for the night, so I thought- Wait where are you going?”

“Stop asking nonsense.” Neoptolemus bristled as he picked up one of the wooden spears. After taking a few experimental swings, he walked out again, “Start a fire and find some new clothes to wear.”

 Megapenthes stood up obediently and started looking around. Nothing on the ground, so he decided to climb onto the rocks to the sleeping quarter. It took him a few trials to find the safe foot placement, the boy ended up with a few more scratches than before, and he was not surprised with the interior setup. The bed was simply made use of the flat surface of this higher rock pillar. Neoptolemus also spread ox skin and wolf fur on top. A sack could be found on the very end, where the pillar met the cave’s ceiling.

Inspecting the object, Megapenthes could find some clean chitons, all in the same size, and absolutely not for a ten year old. He still picked the green one, at least that one looked good enough. He found a spare belt to wear as well. The boy folded the lower part twice, and then secured it again with the belt. Now he could move just like usual!

Climbing down proved a bit more difficult, as it was harder to figure out where to foot himself with touch alone. His right foot wrongly stepped on a slippery surface and the boy fell down. Luckily the final way down was too low to create any permanent injury, only a sore butt and more scratches.

“Where’s the fire?” Neoptolemus returned sooner than expected, balancing a spear on his left shoulder, on which many fish were impaled. Under his other arm were a few small tree branches, sticks and dried grass.

“Sorry,” The boy hastily stood up to find any fire rock but the older teen beat him to it. Flipping the rock into Megapenthes’ forehead and letting the younger boy scrambled comically to catch it, he sat down and started impaling the stick into the fish.

Megapenthes used the newly retrieved dry grass to fuel the sparkle and blew gently it with his mouth, before putting the bunch inside the fireplace, then added more wood inside.

As the fire grew strong and stable enough did the older redhead put the fish on top. And Megapenthes made a pseudo hanger for his wet clothes.

They sat together in comfortable silence, facing each other, with the lost prince eyeing the Myrmidon commander every few minutes, whose eyes never stopped reflecting the burning ashes, his hands turning the fish every once in a while.

“Is the man earlier your father?” Megapenthes started playing with his own fingers.

“What?” The absurdity of the question seemed to have snapped Neoptolemus completely out of his limbo state. “No. My father’s dead!” 

“I’m sorry.”

“Whatever.”

“Do you remember what he was like?”

“...”

“No.”

“Me too.” The lost prince of Sparta answered. Neoptolemus’ eyes snapped up to look at the boy. “But my mother told me a lot about him. He is very strong and powerful. And he has a voice that terrifies the enemy. But he is also kind and nice.”

“I recognized king Menelaus’ enthusiasm, but he is not that good.”

“Yes he is.” Megapenthes retorted, crossing his arms.

“My father’s better. I am better.”

“I will not acknowledge it without solid proof.”

“Then I shall demand a practice match with your father. I win, and you will call me the strongest man of Achaea.”

“If you lose, you have to call him the strongest instead.”

“Deal. You have some guts, little one.”

“I am not little, I am ten!” 

Neoptolemus looked at him in awe, and then bursted out a full blown belly laugh, even toppling himself over onto the ground.

“Hey, not funny!” Megapenthes shouted in protest, but his voice only made the other teen laugh harder. 

Only after a while did the laugh subside, the Myrmidon commander was now lying sideways, his gaze wandered aimlessly into the void. 

“You really are ten?” Neoptolemus whispered, his voice small and fragile, like a layer of frost above the leaves in the morning.

“Uh huh, I always remember my birthdays.”

The man did not answer, rather kept laying still like a stone statue.

Megapenthes bravely approached the silent figure, stationing himself right next to his back.

“Does your mother ever tell you about your father?”

“No.” The man’s voice became even quieter, like Echo’s fainted whisper in the air. ”Never.”

Before he knew it, Megapenthes started patting the son of Achilles’ on his back, just like soothing Astyanax whenever the baby was crying. The man’s whole body jolted as the boy’s hand came to contact, but luckily he did not say or react further. 

“Maybe we should eat, or the fish might be burned soon.” He started pushing the teen lightly. “Neo?” 

Neoptolemus tiredly sat up and took one of the cooked fish out, and handed it to the other red haired child. He himself took hold of one fish out of duty, but did not eat.

“Aren’t you going to eat? How can you be the strongest if you do not have any nutritions?” The boy cooed at him like a baby.

“You said it like Phoenix.” The man looked at him in annoyance but did start eating.

“Phoenix? Is that the man from earlier?”

“No. He is my teacher. The man you asked about is Diomedes, king of Argos.”

“Is he strong like my father?”

“Stronger. He is the second strongest.”

“No way. Then I should demand a match between them as well.” Megapenthes considered.

“Don’t bother. Diomedes doesn’t even want to fight me.” Neoptolemus kicked the dirt under his feet, ruining the fish in front of him.

“Maybe he’s just busy. He’s a king after all.”

“It was me who asked for it! And what, it’s not like he has better things to do. A wooden horse? Really!?”

“Not everything revolves around us, you know, people are just complicated.”

“You advocate for the likes of them now?”

“It’s just something I’ve noticed over time. The others always have many things that they can’t tell us, even when we can take it.”

“...”

The duo did manage to finish most of the fish, except for the ones that were ruined due to being kicked into dirt. Neoptolemus suddenly turned to Megapenthes, his voice commanding, 

“Go to sleep.”

“I’m too full, can we wait a bit?”

“ Go to sleep .” Neoptolemus raised his voice even louder. His larger shadow casted over Megapenthes’ smaller form. The younger prince nodded quickly, and scrambled to climb up to the higher rocks. Using the fur to cover his entire body, leaving only a small space for his eyes, the red haired’s eyes followed the movement of Neoptolemus, who was adding more wood into the fireplace and rearranging them. He then stationed himself still in front of it once again.

“Aren’t you going to sleep?”

Neoptolemus glared murderously.

“Got it. Good night!” The boy turned his body around in a flash.

  “Okay, first off, both of you suck.”

They were at the far side of the beach near the Myrmidons’ camp, which was too shallow for the ships and secluded enough, with Diomedes and Menelaus sitting in front of a small fire, next to each other, and Odysseus on the opposite side, waving his hands dramatically while walking back and forth.

“You!” He pointed at a confused Menelaus first, “You almost pulled a whole mobilization of the Achaean fleet and then ventured out on the battlefield on your own! Just to find your son!”

“Hey!” Menelaus jumped up, insults right on the tip of his tongue but Odysseus beat him to it.

 “Have you ever considered the fact that you could be killed before even meeting him? Have you ever considered, for just two seconds, to call for an attendant? Me? Your brother? Anyone?”

“I- You’re right.” He said down again obediently.

“And you!” Odysseus turned to Diomedes, “Thank you for not causing another commotion on the same day!”

“I understand this is a compliment.” 

“Yes! But your approach sucks! You know Neoptolemus always returns by climbing up from the cliff, why in the name of the gods did you ambush him right then and there?”

“I thought the sooner we talk about it, the better.” 

“You really used war strategy on a child?” flabbergasted Odysseus, “Athene please help me.”

“The strategy has worked before, I still don’t see why I should not use it again.” The king of Argos answered stubbornly. Odysseus’ eyebrow twitched. Of course, the other favored one of Athene would not yield easily.

“He is still a teenager. You have to approach him from another angle. He is not the enemy’s line, you can’t always physically burst in and demand an answer.”

“Aside from Phoenix, you are one of the very few people whose opinions he actually takes into account. We cannot afford you to lose your grip on him.”

“Then he is supposed to come to me instead?”

“And let him initiate first, then you can use your reasoning like usual.”

“Understood.”

Finally finished, Odysseus threw himself tiredly down to the sand, next to Diomedes. He heaved out a long sigh and pointed at his two friends accusingly, “If you two bust it tomorrow, I will curse you for the rest of my life.”

“For a new father, you’re surprisingly adept in handling teenagers.” Menelaus said. 

“I’ve been with you lot for ten years. I know how to handle a bunch of immature psychos.”

  A scream. 

Megapenthes startled awake. The boy started to panic.

Fortunately the hard exterior under him immediately reminded Megapenthes of his new reality.

This was not his bed, but a makeshift bed of stone and fur.

This was not his room, but a cave in a deserted beach, somewhere far from the wall of Troy.

Nothing was his, but rather Neoptolemus’, son of Achilles, commander of the Myrmidons in Achaea, a new friend.

And two days ago, he was brought into a strange place, a soldier camp, with many strange things and scary people, but also people like him and the lady. His heart still yearned for the protection and warmth of his goddess of a mother, but he now understood this want might not be able to be fulfilled. Maybe never.

Another scream echoed from outside of the cave. Angry and animalistic.

Megapenthes would prefer to check it out, but his heart full of fear pleaded not to, and he listened.

Laying down low onto the flat surface, letting the angry shouts and occasional crashes of rocks echo into the caves and onto his eardrums, the boy counted every second, praying to the gods for whatever being created those sounds did not venture near the cave. He didn't even dare to turn around and look.

Where is Neoptolemus? Is he hearing this too? Would he go out with his spear to fight the creature? 

Megapenthes hoped he was too deep in slumber to notice, that man had proved that his strength and endurance were immense but-

There were footsteps! And they were getting louder and louder.

The boy held his breath. At the same time, a ragged breathing of an injured and tired animal could be heard in the entrance.

The creature entered the place with alarming precision, like this place was in the back of its palm. It wrestled through some stuff and restarted the fire.

So a human? A human was capable of making those sounds? Megapenthes would keep that idea in his head.

“Ouch.” 

Megapenthes could physically feel his heart drop.

The scary creature was Neoptolemus ? The raging, uncontrolled beast out there minutes ago was the same person who carried him on his back the whole afternoon, the same person who taught him how to call seals? The same person he just sat next to and had dinner with? 

Wait . Hadn’t he introduced himself as the commander from Achaea? Hadn’t he been talking to a fellow man all day? Which meant, the camp he had woken up in, might just belong to them! 

To the Achaeans.

To his people.

His father.

Megapenthes started to sweat like pigs in a slaughterhouse.

He had eavesdropped on some stories from the slave girls and the Trojan waiting women in the palace, about how scary Achaean men were. For them, they were the men from the far ocean, traveling on one thousand hollow ships, carrying fire, shields and spears, with which they would bring terrors to the gate of Ilium. They had blocked their way into the sea, seized their ancestors’ lands and rivers. Sometimes he would see smoke coming from the outside of his house, and the slaves would say it was from the pyres of fallen men, under the spears of the Achaeans. Paris and Hector sometimes mentioned their names in slow murmuring tones, as if they were from the house of Hades themselves, but they always stopped all together when they noticed his little head peeking out under the curtains or behind the doors.

He had seen many soldiers whom he personally knew losing parts of their bodies. Some never returned to guard the palace gates or delivered the news like usual. Some luckily did but their eyes never looked the same, instead of the light of life shining in their eyes, they were haunted by darkness and violence. 

The stories contradicted whatever his mother had told him, about a noble and loving father, a welcoming family, a land of prosperity and beauty. And of course, Megapenthes had confronted her on this. 

“You lied to me! Achaeans are all savages! My father is a murderer! I have seen what they have done to the people of Troy! Maybe it’s better when Paris has brought you here, away from those monsters!”

That was the first time the lost prince realized the true terror of the former queen of Sparta. She did not scream at him, no, she just bore her celestial blue eyes into his head. 

Then she ordered him in the voice rivaling Hera, queen of the gods,

“I will pretend this talk did not exist. And you will never speak ill of your father and your people again. War is a complicated thing, my son. All of us are but disposable pawns of the gods, we can only do with what is given. If you want to blame anyone, then blame me, Helen the slut, the one that left her marriage bed and her homeland. ”

Megapenthes decided to ask king Priam on this, since he was wise, and nice to his mother whenever he visited their house from time to time.

“I do not blame your mother for this devastating war, but her words ring true. It’s the will of the gods that forces us to fight each other, and if that’s what they want then it must be done. We are anything but savages at war, Megapenthes, that’s how men survive. The Achaeans, Hector, Paris, all my sons, all have to fight brutally to be able to walk out of it.”

“My heart burns for you, my grandson Astyanax, and all children born during this time of peril. I cannot decide for you, whether you hate the Achaeans for attacking us, or hate us for separating you and your destined family. Whatever you choose, I would accept it, and I believe both your mother and father would as well.”

“His battle cry echoes like thunder of Zeus, stills the fear into their heart and makes them quail and run away like sheeps.”

“ Fear not little one, as he is the most gentle person I have come across.” 

“ He would never wish any harm upon you.”

“Then why hasn’t he come for us yet?”

“He is trying every day to reach you. Have faith my son, one day, he will.”

Breathing all his fear out of his lungs, Megapenthes mustered any courage he had gathered and turned his back around.

His eyes had caught no monster of fire and ashes, no savage beast covered in metal and blood, but the scene of a young man sitting quietly in front of the newly fueled fire, bandaging his now blood covered knuckles, his face having a few small scratches.

Every once in a while a small hiss or muttering could be heard under his breath.

“I told you to go to sleep.” The stern voice startled the young prince. Turquoise eyes with fire irises glared at him.

Yet the fearless prince of Sparta, with the fur blanket still on his shoulders, slowly crawled down to the fireplace and sat down on the opposite side of the godborn commander.

“Do you do that a lot?” The young boy’s gaze landed on the now blood soaked bandages.

“Does it matter?” 

Megapenthes nodded.

“Then no, I don’t do that a lot.” 

“Are you upset?”

“No. Just angry.”

“Why?”

The commander glared again. Megapenthes promptly changed the subject.

“How long have you been in Ilium?”

“Six months.” Neoptolemus finished the last roll around his left arm.

“But the war has been going on for years, hasn’t it?”

“Yes.” The commander looked at him with an unreadable expression. “This year is the tenth.”

“And my father has been here all of those years?”

“Yes.”

Ten years and only a wall apart. 

“Sorry for dragging you into this.” Hugging his knees closer to his chest, Megapenthes whispered. 

Pyrrhus laid his head on the raised knee. His irises reflected the glowing ashes falling to the ground.

The commander in front of him suddenly looked smaller, the shadow behind him no longer loomed all over the cave, only above himself.

“Doesn’t matter anymore. I’m already here.” 

  “Sit down.”

Agamemnon greeted Menelaus as the younger brother entered his tent. By dawn, the king of Sparta was officially summoned by the Mycenaean king, as they had an “extremely urgent” matter to discuss. The older brother himself was sitting on a table, the spare chair was placed on the other side of the table, opposite of him. 

“I don’t-”

“Sit. Down.”

Menelaus slowly complied. The chair scrapped uncomfortably onto the ground as a he dragged it out agonizingly slow and sat on it. The moment his body touched the seat, his brother began.

“You can’t just-”

“Of course the first thing you do is berate me!”

“I haven’t finished!” The Mycenaean king’s commanding tone quickly overlapped Menelaus but retreated just as fast. He then sighed, his hands lacing on the table. “When did it happen?”

“What are you saying?” Menelaus leaned back to his chair.

“The boy, Menelaus. You know exactly what I’m talking about.” The older brother’s voice was firm. “ Why only yesterday was I aware of the existence of my nephew? What exactly happened?” 

“Odysseus met Helen when he infiltrated Troy two days ago, she helped him find the Palladium, and in exchange, my son would be brought here.” Menelaus chuckled dryly, “Just like you, I am only aware of his existence the moment of their return.”

“I am sorry.” Agamemnon said.

“It’s fine.”

“This still changes nothing. At least in the scope of this war.”

“You’re right.”

“Not exactly, it changes everything as well. You have a son, with Helen!”

Menelaus promptly looked down to the table surface instead of his older brother.

“Are you ready to see him?”

“I- Honestly, I don’t even know. He’s my son, with Helen, and I don’t even know about it. I was kept in the dark about my very own child. And we were only a field apart. I was even there , inside the walls. I’ve spent all these years puzzling whether Helen had run away on her own or had been kidnapped against her will. And I have tried to be positive, tried to think that she was taken unwillingly, that she still loves me even after what I have done. But what Hermione said and the way she looked at Paris when he was in Sparta- I’m no longer certain of my own judgment. ”

“That is where you get it wrong.” Agamemnon looked at him in amusement.

“What do you mean?” Menelaus looked up at the older Atreides.

“The thing you’ve just talked about, is between you and Helen. Not the child.”

Oh.

 “You can fall apart, but don’t take the children along with you. Don’t make your problem theirs.”

“Figure out what you have to do about him first. She is not your current problem. He is.”

The younger Atreides nodded slowly as the truth sunk in.

“Now has the child returned?”

“Not yet. But I already have my men stationed at the beach.”

“I hope you can let him meet me soon.” His brother smiled. “Orestes and him would make good friends.”

Finally being released from his brother’s hold after promising the umpteenth time that his son and Orestes would definitely meet, Menelaus stepped out of the Mycaneaen camp, with Odysseus already waiting for him at the gate.

“What did he say?”

“The same thing you said yesterday,” which earned him a triumphant “ha!” from Odysseus, “And that he will support all of my decisions.”

“First thing first, just get your son to meet and like you. We don’t even know what Paris had told him.”

“Now you mentioned it, I want Paris to be resurrected so I could kill him again.”

“Don’t jinx it. What are you going to do now?”

“I have some work at camp. See you later.” Menelaus started walking away.

“Yeah yeah, after ten years you still are a terrible liar.” Odysseus waved at him.

The king of Sparta steered all of the slaves out of his hut and the moment the hut was clear, he immediately crashed head first into his bed. His hand blindly reached for the blanket his son had left behind after his escapade, the one his former wife had made. The flower scent still resided, but now mixed with the hut’s metallic one.

“You’re truly the death of me. What am I going to do with you?”

“You turned our world upside down, you made our daughter motherless, you made me the most pitiful and miserable king of Greece. And then, you bore me a son, raising him within the Trojan walls for ten years and expecting me to just take it?”

“But would I have a kingdom without you? Would I have a daughter and a son without you? Would I be able to stand equally to these great kings and warriors if you did not make me one?”

“Tell me, Helen. What should I do to you?”

   “Any sign?” Diomedes asked a soldier who had just announced his entrance. It was his turn to manage the building of the wooden horse today. 

“No my king. The beach is still empty.”

“Keep looking. Report every two hours. Do not leave out anything.” Then he waved the man away.

“You’re getting jumpy.” Sthenelus appeared next to him. His voice was laced with sarcasm.

“I should not. But my mind keeps expecting the worst.”

Sthenelus laughed like a madman, “It seems the gods have finally made my wish come true. Someone has to help me pay back all of those times trying to look for you on the battlefield.”

“Was I that terrible?”

“By Zeus, yes!” The second in command clasped his shoulder, “Angsty, cold, unresponsive, bloodthirsty, you’re almost like a wild animal.”

“But you were always there to get me out.” He smiled at his comrade.

Sthenelus patted on his shoulder twice, his gaze was of fondness.

“When do you think he will return?” Diomedes’ eyes landed on the giant horse in front of them. Its giant towing platform had been finished yesterday, and now the legs and body.

“When the boy is ready,” Sthenelus followed his gaze, “All you can do now is, well, be ready, too. Every step counts.”

“You’re right.”

“I am always right. Take that Odysseus.”

Somewhere in the Ithacan camp, a loud sneeze could be heard.

  They wouldn’t leave until late afternoon. That part was made abundantly clear by Neoptolemus. 

The teen intended to take off somewhere else after breakfast but Megapenthes had another idea. 

“Can you teach me how to swim?” He blocked the older teen from going further away. 

“Why by the gods do I have to?” The older red haired asked in confusion. 

“My mother has never let me go out much. And you’re an excellent swimmer, and a descendant of the ocean god.”

“You get that part right.” Neoptolemus crossed his arms. Megapenthes’ eyes immediately shone in anticipation. “Yet flattery gets you nowhere. There are weak men who bend under those sweet nectar words, but never the Peleides.”

Megapenthes lowered his head in shame and quietly moved aside.

“However, it’s better if you know how to swim, in case you drift away from me.”

The younger boy’s head snapped up again, looking at the older one, whose head was cocked to one side in mischief.

Before he could even express his gratitude, he was grabbed by one of his legs and now his vision was upside down. The moment Megapenthes opened his mouth, he was already flung into the sky then crashed head first into the ocean.

The water swallowed the boy’s smaller form like a snake inhaling its prey. The water once again entered his system through the open mouth and the nostril, his arms and legs flapped around futilely. His heart and lungs tried to expand against his chest, which was being crushed against the pressure of the water.

An arm grabbed him out of the deep by the collar again, and the boy instinctively clung onto the older teen’s body. His mouth constantly coughed out water.

A hand hesitantly crept up and lightly patted his back.

“Maybe a warning next time?” Megapenthes finally finished his coughing spree.

Neoptolemus said nothing, but the teen did not throw him down to the water again, instead walking towards the shallower water. Then did he try to untangle the smaller child away, leaving one hand grabbing on the back of the child’s chiton. Megapenthes’ body relaxed when he realized he was indeed not going to float away.

“Now do this.” Using his other arm as an example, Neoptolemus guided the younger prince to copy his movement. 

“Hey, I’m swimming! I’m swimming!” The child shouted out, “I’m swimming!”

“Not quite, now move your legs like this.”

After a few trials and errors, the young boy was capable of moving by himself in the end.

He started to take a few experimental laps around the older teen, his smile never faded, even when he almost sunk a few times, as there was always an arm ready to reach out, whenever his head started to submerge.

“Do you see it? I can swim now!” Megapenthes’ smile was blinding as he emerged from the deeper water, his eyes wrinkled with happiness and excitement.

“Not before you can prove it. Follow me.” Neoptolemus started swimming parallel against the beach in the shallower water.

Megapenthes froze in his spot, looking at the other man’s form moving further and further away from him. Fear crept up into his heart, but it was nothing compared to the courage and a lust for adventure that was already there.

He started swimming and trailed behind the young man, albeit clumsily. The older teen’s speed was noticeably slower than yesterday, and Megapenthes soon caught up with him, like a duckling trailing behind his mother.

They swam together until the lost prince of Sparta’s stomach rumbled in protest and his limbs were sore and full of pain.

Both children then climbed up to the shore and ate all of the remaining fish, like young wolves devouring their hard earned meals after days of walking with empty stomachs.

The remains were settled to the sides as their hunger was fulfilled. The dust flew along the breeze as Megapenthes’ back touched the ground with a thump, sparks of fire among the burning branches flickered between them, while Neoptolemus casually turned his head upward to look at the orange sky and the fluffy pink cloud. The sun of Helios lazily moved toward the faraway horizon, while the wind from the ocean caressing their inferno hair. This moment was perfect, they had nothing to worry about, they could be free of everything, no responsibility, no fighting, no battle, no pain and bloodshed. Nothing.

But this place never belonged to them.

Peace was not the place their loved ones dwelled.

War was.

The lies were always sweet like ambrosia and nectar, which lovely callings would weaken any lesser men.

But never the son of Menelaus and Achilles.

“We should go back.” Megapenthes murmured, breaking the fragile illusion that was always destined to end. “Or else they will be worried.”

Neoptolemus startled, but he did not say anything, rather inhaled a deep breath and exhaled again. Gathering all of his courage. He stood up, proud and strong.

“I’m ready.”

Chapter Text

“Still nothing?” 

“For the thousandth time, no!” Eurylochus greeted whoever arrived with a scowl on his face.

It was Sthenelus who approached this time. He regretted nothing.

The man now stood right next to him, even when there was no invitation from the second in command from Ithaca. He promptly ignored the newcomer, favoring watching the wide ocean again. The other man mirrored his task.

Their eyes followed the sand on their feet to the crashing waves and to the further horizon. The sun was setting.There were flocks of birds flying in the sky full of orange and red hue. And still no kids. 

“I will punch Neoptolemus the moment he shows up.” Eurylochus grumbled.

“Get in line, my friend. If you are that certain of your prowess.” Sthenelus sympathized with this man, but after constantly witnessing the spars between the godlike young man and his equally noble brother, forgiving and forgetting were the wisest decision he had ever made, even when there were a lot of times Sthenelus would love to disregard his own safety and just jumped right in.

“Please, I am not that out of my mind,” Eurylochus scoffed,“I still want my head to bother my neck for a while longer.”

There was a strange black dot on the horizon.

Both of them tensed up and were on alert. 

“Enemy ship? Or ours?” Sthenelus’ eyes darted between the other man and the strange object.

“Too small for one.” Eurylochus put a hand over his squinting eyes. 

“Maybe-”

“Maybe-”

They looked at each other at the same time. The idea clicked in their mind.

“Call your king!” Sthenelus shouted at a Spartan soldier stationed near them, as he dashed toward his own camp.

“Thank you for carrying me on the way back.” Megapenthes said as he once again grabbed the older teen’s torso. Neoptolemus huffed in answer.

He slowed down as they entered the shallow water. Suddenly his whole body jolted, alerting the younger boy on his back. A group of men had already occupied the vacant beach: they all seemed tense as if they were holding their breath. So were the son of Achilles and the younger son of Menelaus.

Megapenthes tried to inhale some air, as he looked around. All eyes were on them, full of tiredness, hunger, and pain just like the eyes he saw when he first arrived here. 

He wanted to go back to the safe deserted place. 

His hand gripped tightly on Neoptolemus’ one, who was also shaking lightly, but stopped all together the moment his foot set on the shore, making way toward the men like marching into the battlefield with thousands of enemies in front of him. 

The group of men fell back and gradually retreated as the Myrmidon commander set foot on shore, his larger body still shielding the smaller prince. 

Neoptolemus walked in stride, yet his eyes never ceased to dart around like a lion looking out for potential enemies. His hand now gripped painfully onto Megapenthes’ smaller one, but the boy promptly ignored the pain, rather focusing on following the footsteps of the older red haired.

There were three men who still stood their ground: an old man with long gray beard and sad eyes, a taller man with wild brown hair and scar on his face, and finally a man with red hair. 

Red hair.

A shade darker than his own.

With red brown eyes. Glittering with tears.

Of longing.

Relief.

Glee.

Anticipation.

And somewhere amongst those, a hint of fear.

Megapenthes stationed himself behind Neoptolemus, even then the man’s eyes did leave him, but he was patient enough to not approach closer.

The old man’s lower lips wobbled, his eyes watered, the elder ran to Neoptolemus like an old mother seeing her only son returning safely from battle. His sad eyes filled with immeasurable joy and relief, his arms stretched out as if he was trying to pull the whole wide world onto his chest.

Surprisingly, Neoptolemus did not deny the old man’s advancement but embraced it warmingly, as he even released his hand off Megapenthes to return the hug.

“My child!” The old man sang with joy, his tears dampened his own cheeks and the commander’s shoulder “You have returned! Oh how worried I have been.”

“Phoenix, I am fine.” Pyrrhus released him to move a few steps back, yet his hands did not leave the old man’s shoulders. “There is nothing to worry about.”

Phoenix nodded with his tear filled eyes, his gaze never left the teen’s form.

The other man, with wild brown hair and a big scar on his left cheek, stepped forward. His brown eyes reminded Megapenthes of a lion in the old stories as it bore on both of them, but mostly on the taller teen. Yet there was no fear emitting from the Myrmidon commander, only anticipation and a hint of worry.

Megapenthes promptly hid behind Neoptolemus to hide from this man as well.

“Where have you been?” The man’s loud voice demanded. Pyrrhus did not answer.

“Where have you been?” He asked again. Firmer. And marched closer toward them,

only stopped when he was at arm length with the teen. Megapenthes took a few steps back, his hands did not leave the other boy’s hand, but he wanted to run. The human shield in front of him unfortunately had already planted his feet firmly on the ground.

“I’m not a dog to be put on a leash.” He spatted out, his eyes were of anger and bitterness. “I will not be controlled by anyone, even when that person is my father, Phoenix or you. You all think I’m some child who knows nothing, or a wild horse to be tamed, so that I can do as you please. I have my own opinions and thoughts, king Diomedes of Argos, and they will not be ignored.”

The man, Diomedes, looked at the enraged young man, and without uttering a word, he reached out only to pat on Neoptolemus’ shoulder. The teen’s whole body froze by the touch.

“Where have you been?” Diomedes asked again, his voice lighter and full of fondness this time. 

Pyrrhus’ eyes widened in surprise. He immediately turned his face away from Diomedes in annoyance, even crossing his arms in front of his chest. His body however was no longer tense.

“Somewhere that I will never tell you about.”

 “Fair.” Diomedes huffed, and he dragged the teen to a headlock. And started rubbing his already wild hair with his knuckles.

“What the-” Pyrrhus tried to wrestle out of the man’s iron grip, however he was betrayed by his own voice, now mixed with laughter, “Unhand me at once, this is not a fair treatment for a commander!”

“I believe you have boasted about being the strongest among us, now where is that godlike strength?” 

Diomedes was toying with him. With the scariest man of Achaea. As if he was just another child.

Yet the godlike son of Achilles did not even try to fight back. Not really. He was enjoying it. He was laughing, not like the painful one from yesterday, actually laughing with scarce happiness laced in every fiber of it. Even when Diomedes dragged the teen around and started an unofficial wrestling match right here and there.

Megapenthes had to physically jump out of the way before he was wrangled into their violent game.

Diomedes suddenly stopped when he saw movement out of the corner of his eyes. His eyes landed on the lost prince.

Pyrrhus looked up in confusion but soon followed his gaze to the smaller red haired child.

Then their eyes landed on Menelaus, who was still watching the child with a plethora of emotion, ready to burst out of his very flesh which was barely held back by the chain of his will.

Pyrrhus jerked the boy forward with his knee, pushing him out of his potential hiding place. He, with Diomedes and Phoenix, backed further away, leaving Megapenthes and the king of Sparta alone.

Now standing right in the middle of the red haired man’s vision with no place to hide and no mercy from his newfound ally, Megapenthes could only lower his head and make himself as small as possible. His hands found the edge of his tunic and grabbed it tight till the nails implanted on his palms. It stung.

He didn’t need anyone to confirm the truth. He just looked at the man standing in front of him and knew. The intangible line of kinship, like a lion recognizing its own kins with just a sniff in the air, even when they had never met. 

His lady mother’s fond words echoed softly. He put one attentive step forward.

The king of Sparta kneeled down slowly, planting himself firmly into the ground before he could physically lose it and ran up to hug his son, scaring him more than he already had been in unknown territory. One arm gripped on his own thigh, the other on the sand.

“Hello child.” He began as gently as a commander who screamed orders and barked out bloodlust warcry every day for almost ten years could muster. 

“I-” Something in him cracked, he cut himself before his voice could reveal it. He was the king of Sparta, ruled over the rich land of Lacedaemon, commander of sixty black ships, and master of warcry. He did not hesitate, he did not waver, he never tripped over himself when addressing his men or his enemies, but now as a father, words failed him.

He needed to say something, anything, to assure the child that he was safe, that he was with his father now, among his own people. That he had nothing to worry, that Menelaus would bring his mother, Helen-

“You’re taller than I imagined.”  

His head snapped up. Megapenthes’ one still hung low, his gaze bore into the ground where one of his feet were tracing some wavy patterns, but no doubt it was him who spoke.

“Mother used to say you are only a head more than her. But I think you are taller.”

Menelaus unconsciously smiled, “How much taller?”

“Maybe one head and a half, maybe two.”

“She’s biased, you know. She never likes it when I use my height against her. Such thing would never stop your dearest mother though, she would jump at me like a feral cat to take her necklace back.”

“Mother is not feral. She’s the queen of Sparta! She's graceful and proper!” Megapenthes eyes lit up, he felt the urge to defend his lovely mother against whatever spills of lies this man, whom he should have called father , started.

“You’ll see.” Menelaus' smile grew wider, “Helen has never been afraid to show the world who she really is.”

The spark between them flickered away as the name of the runaway queen was uttered. Silence raised back the hidden barrier that was once cracked open, separating them again.

“Are you hungry?” Menelaus asked this time. His voice hopeful. “I can make you something. Swimming can be tiring, especially for a smaller child like you.”

Megapenthes did not give him a verbal response, but wordlessly nodded again. Menelaus’ arm almost reached out when the boy walked towards him but withdrew the moment the smaller body jerked slightly and stepped back.

His arm raised towards his camp instead, guiding the way.

They walked in silence, staying an arm’s length away from each other. It did not stop Menelaus from stealing glances at his son.

He was probably taller than Hermione when he left the palace of Sparta, the warmth of his home to embark on this war. His hair was red, just like him. But it was curly, like Helen. His eyes were blue, just like hers as well. Megapenthes caught him staring once or twice, a smart and intuitive child he was. But he immediately looked away when accidentally meeting the king of Sparta’s gaze.

Menelaus’ hand once again yearned to be able to physically touch his child, but he bailed it into a fist before it could reach out on its own.

“What do you like to eat?” He asked again when they entered his hut, trying to lighten the mood, “We have a lot of things back here,bread ,lamb, beef, anything! Or maybe something lighter?”

Megapenthes planted himself at the doorway, his eyes darted around. Menelaus tried to reach the boy for comfort but the child backed a few steps away, again. Of course.

He straightened whilst trying to remain as unthreatening as possible, then stepped aside to leave more space between him and his son.

Then did Megapenthes sheepishly step in, each step careful and quiet, his eyes never left the king of Sparta. He moved toward the dining table and sat himself diligently on the chair, his arms folded neatly in front of his stomach.

Menelaus stepped out of the hut but did not fully leave. He stood in the doorway, and called back to his son, “I will find something for you. Okay?” 

No answer. 

Menelaus used all of his might to tear his gaze away and stepped out. 

Only when the sound of footsteps faded away, did Megapenthes leave his seat to fully inspect the place. It was not as dreadful as he saw it the first time, there were indeed multiple spears and shields, but now they looked similar to what he saw in Paris’ house, albeit less shiny and small flecks of rust could be seen on the tips of the spears and the edges of the shields.  

His light blanket was there, folded and now lying neatly on the bed. He reached out to take and wrap it around his body, the flowery smell soothed him like none others. There was a hint of the smell of metal, but it no longer bothered him. This place no longer troubled him as much as before.

Menelaus returned a bit later with two bowls of simple lamb soup. He put one in front of the young boy, while stationed himself face to face against Megapenthes on the other side of the table. 

He crossed his arms on the table and looked at his son expectedly. Megapenthes looked back at him in confusion. Menelaus’ eyes looked between him and the soup bowl. The young boy prayed he read the room correctly and sheepishly dipped his spoon inside the bowl. Menelaus did not stop looking. He started raising the spoon up. Menelaus was still looking. Megapenthes put the spoon in his mouth. Nothing’s changed. He swallowed.

Menelaus suddenly nodded, making Megapenthes unconsciously mirroring his action.

“Great!” Menelaus’ whole posture deflated. “And there I thought you didn’t like lamb soup.” 

Megapenthes was never a picky eater, but he did not like lamb soup. He continued eating either way.

They continued in relative silence after that, although Menelaus never touched his food, rather he kept fidgeting and stealing glances at Megapenthes, which did unnerve the boy. 

Megapenthes slowed his eating to look at Menelaus in earnest.

For all those years of his life hearing the stories of Menelaus of Sparta, he had thought the world of his father. For him, that man is but almost a god, a hero of the old tales, unyielding and unbeatable, but also in a way unreachable. He had dreamt of being brought to the other side of course. His arms then being held by both his mother’s and father’s. But he could never pinpoint the actual face of Menelaus. 

He once thought the man would look like Ares, handsome and fierce and powerful, the war god who leveled cities and lands to ruin. And just like that he would sweep him and his noble mother away, leaving Troy to be burnt and crumbled. But Megapenthes also liked Troy, he liked king Priam, little Astyanax, and even Hector, so he stopped imagining his father with Ares’ face.

Now looking at the man he should have called father. He could tell that he looked-

Tired.

With circles under his eyes. With ugly scars all over the place. With burnt palms.

He is human. He is mortal, reachable, and may be unlike the gods with their unbreakable rules and judgements-

He could be challenged.

“Will you get mother back?” His mouth uttered before his mind could stop it.

Menelaus looked at him in surprise.

Megapenthes closed his eyes and forced it out, “Will you get mother back? Even when she did leave you?”