Sing O Muse (Rework)

Act One:
And I will swallow my pride (In hopes of a final

goodbye)
Chapter 1
I knew I was in trouble even before the explosion rocked the base.
The military base was quiet that night, a few soldiers running drills and the such, but not much movement, and
definitely not enough entertainment.
I wasn’t even supposed to be on base. I’m only sixteen, and it’s technically a huge security risk for me to even
know my dad had a meeting that night, but since it was an emergency thing that made the plane turn around and
everything, I got shuffled off to the side and into some random private’s care. Perks of being a General’s
daughter I guess.
The reason for the meeting was interesting, because all I managed to overhear is that someone found some
weird glowing rock in the Mojave Desert, and suddenly a bunch of America’s top scientists and military leaders
are being called. My bet was on aliens- not this.
So I was curious, and really I thought it my right to escape from my babysitter’s clutches and go looking
around; I’ve always behaved and gone to all those military schools that dad set me up in, and I just thought it
was time for some teenage rebellion. I cannot believe that it was teenage rebellion that got me into this
situation.
“Miss Johnson!” The panicked voice of the private called out, searching for me.
I rolled my eyes and ducked around another patrol. I’ve practically grown up on bases, I know the patrol routes
patterns by heart, it’s impossible to catch me. Besides, if they do, dad is just going to ground me for a week and
make me join the privates’ drill exercises for a month.
Chapter 2
The man who dragged me away from the beach sat across from me.
I haven’t said a word since he took me away; crying the whole way, he had to carry my limp body onto his
horse, where he took me up to a large building of marble and stone, and he gently laid me on a cushioned
couch. He’d wrapped his cloak around me when he’d carried me up to the palace, and I shivered as I pulled it
closer around me.
Shock: that would be my official diagnosis if I was back home, but I’m not home.
The man had dark brown hair, curly and tied back and the top of his crown. He was young, probably in his late
twenties, and his olive-ochre skin held no wrinkles- only a few scattered sun-spots. His tunic was something I
could only describe as ancient, bordering on a chiton but not. He wasn’t very tall, but he was broad and strong.
“My Lady,” he began as if he truly believed me a lady while wearing blood covered jeans. “Are you alright?”
“Am I okay?” I asked, looking up from my fingers that had the blood of so many under my nails. He spoke a
foreign language, and a vague part of me is screaming about how I shouldn’t understand what he’s saying.
“You’re covered in blood, and it is clearly the blood of someone you know: I’ve never seen someone scream
like that for the death of someone they don’t know.”
“My father.” I answered numbly. “He pushed me aside.”
“Do you know where you are?” He asked kindly, looking like he genuinely wanted to help.
“No,” I answered. “Where am I? Far from home, that I know, but I cannot tell where he has sent me.”
“You are in Ithaca. I am the king of this land, Odysseus son of Laertes. What is yours?”
My head snapped towards him.
Odysseus. The hero of the Trojan War. King of Ithaca. Holy shit.
One of the greatest heroes of all time is sitting right across from me. A man that I have heard bedtime stories
about is sitting across from me.
“My Lady? Your name?”
“Raya,” I managed to answer through my shock. “Raya Johnson.”
He blinked. “Johnson? I have never heard of such a name before.”
“Where I come from gives their children two or more names, usually three.” I tried to explain, but probably
doing really badly. “A first, middle, and family name. One of my ancestors’ was the son of a man named John,
and his name was passed on through the years. My dad was a Johnson, and my children will be too.”
Explaining the concept of family names to the fictional hero of the Odyssey was strangely calming, grounding
me to the here and now.
He nodded, “The land you hail from sounds fascinating.”
“It is... Was.” The light from my eyes dimmed as I corrected myself.
Sympathy grew in his features, “Do you know what happened to bring you here? I saw the light of your arrival
myself, the gods themselves sent you here, do you know why?”
The gods? This was science! A mad scientist decided to mess with something they shouldn’t, they broke a law
of physics and now I’m in Ancient Greece!
“My town was under siege,” I said instead. “My dad is a general, and they discovered something that the rival
country-” his confusion made me quickly correct myself, “-kingdom wanted. They attacked, and I was in the
wrong place at the wrong time. My dad- He- I-” My voice failed me for a second. “My dad shoved me towards
the discovery and told me to run with it, they killed him, and then I was here.”
He leaned forward, “The gods have a reason for taking you away, they saved you. What was that discovery?
Where is it?”
I looked at him warily. “It was just a weird glowing rock. It melted as soon as I got here at the beach. I don’t
know what it is, but I do know that it was no good.”
He gave me an assessing look. He nodded and stood up. “You are welcome here for as long as you need. I will
have the servants set up a room for you and draw you a bath with fresh clothing, you will be comfortable here. I
know my wife will enjoy the company.”
I quickly stood too, “Thank you, King Odysseus.
“If you would follow me, princess,” he offered his arm out to escort me.
I gave him a surprised look. Princess? Me? Where on earth did he get that conclusion from? “I’m not-”
“You said your father was in command of your entire city- was he not a king? You have no need to hide your
status with me.” He gave me a knowing look as if he wasn’t completely wrong, and extended his elbow out to
me again.
With a trembling hand, I took it.
“We fear the words, ‘Atlas shrugged,’ but why do we not commend Atlas on his freedom? After all, it is
what he has given us for the price of his broken collarbones. It is only fair that we bear our own burdens
for once.”
I slipped out from under the water.

The large basin that was affixed to the floor of the room, and delicately decorated with mosaics, didn’t let the
water splash out.
At first, the cold water of the tub had shocked me. But then the servant women descended onto me with cloths
and pumice to scrub the dried blood from my skin, and I forgot all about the temperature of water. Scrubbed
raw, they helped me clamber out and then refilled the tub with water steaming hot. This is much nicer, the water
has cooled to a soft warmth and my skin was pink. There were perfumes and oils lathered into my hair and it
had dripped into the bath.
“Your hair is beautiful,” a servant remarked as she brushed it. “Long and wavy, the only way you could be any
more blessed is if it was tawny.”
Some of the other servants tittered and giggled, eyeing me up and down.
“And so pale too! You have too much muscle, but you should lose that soon, our king feeds his guests well. In a
moon or two you’ll have curves for days!” Another young girl joined in.
I raised a brow, “I have plenty of curves, thank you very much. And my muscles are just fine, thank you very
much.”
The girl flushed, looking down at her feet. “I meant no offence, Princess.”
I sighed, sinking back down into the water. I was angry, too angry and with no way to stop and think, taking it
out on anyone who looked at me wrong.
The other girls had also paused, looking tentatively between their friend and I.
“If you are waiting for me to punish you, you’ll be waiting forever.” I said bluntly, “I do not care for people’s
opinion on my body. I’ve just left a war and watched my family and friends die. All I want right now is for this
bath to be finished and for me to go to sleep.”
“Well said,” came a stranger’s voice.
I shot back up, ready and waiting, my hand reaching out towards the bundle of clothes I had shed where my
taser and pepper spray were hidden.
A woman, twice my age, stood at the doorway. She had the most beautiful bronze-gold skin, with small red
suns tattooed on her cheeks, and her black hair spilled down her back in thick and heavy curls. She wore a light
chiton, obviously not dressed up, yet at the same time the fabric was dyed in the subtle way that showed wealth.
The servant girls were hasty to bow down to her, showing respect, and I suppose this must be Penelope,
Odysseus’ wife.
“Queen Penelope,” I greeted, and tried to give a joke. “I’m sorry for not being better dressed for our first
meeting.”
She smiled kindly and waved off the girls, who practically tripped to escape the room.
“It is I who has to apologise, Princess Raya is it? When I heard from my husband what had happened and who
we were hosting, I wanted to come greet you as soon as possible. I know I should leave you to your bath and
rest, but you would not mind?” She picked up the brush that one of the girls was holding before.
“Oh, no, no! You don’t have to!” I protested, realising what she meant to do.
“Nonsense, you are our guest.” She gave me a motherly smile, and began to pass the comb through my hair.
I forced myself to relax and my heart to stop beating so quickly.
“My husband tells me you are from a far away land, one which is currently at war. I’m sorry for your loss, it
must be difficult.”
“It is, I miss my dad dearly.” I said, fixing my sight on the way that the water slipped through my fingers.
She hummed sympathetically, “I understand. I lost my mother, it is a yearning that never leaves you.”
I sighed. That’s not very nice to know.
“How old are you my dear?” She asked casually.
“Sixteen,” I swallowed a lump in my throat.
“Oh,” she put her comb down to gaze down at me in pity. “I’m sorry that you had to lose so much at such a
young age.”
I turned away from her look, “There are others who have lost just as much at a much younger age.” I’ve met
them before- living in a military base since I was a baby meant that I’ve met a lot of military kids like me who
lost their parents to a battle.
“Yes,” she takes the hint that I wasn’t going to talk about it. “Let me help you out of that basin.”
I shivered a bit as the cool air hit my body. I hate being cold and wet.
“Oh!” Penelope stared at me, surprised.
I frowned, “What?”
“You’re dry.” She said plainly, and I looked down to realise that I was.
“It’s a warm night, I must have dried quickly,” I muttered, confused.
“Maybe,” She waved me off but with a weird glint in her eyes, “I suppose that we can’t use the oils on your
skin since you’re dried, we can do that tomorrow. Let’s get you into a slip for the night.”
-
Penelope led me to a connected room, obviously styled for their richer, more important, guests.
“You have no spare clothing, but I can have my older chitons and peplos sent to you until the seamstress and
tailors come. Would you prefer to sleep with a slip or a light chiton?” She held up two pieces of fabric, one
shorter yet smoother and obviously finely woven, and a longer yet lighter and near transparent fabric.
I gestured towards the light chiton, “It’s a warm night.” I felt like a broken record, repeating things over and
over.
“So it is,” she helped me slip it over my head and clasp it.
“Would you like help with your hair?” She asked, already leading me towards a vanity.
I didn’t have to answer as she was already braiding it.
“Are you happy here?” I asked her, curious. The myths never painted a pretty picture, especially not for any
woman whose name I might recognise.
“I love my life with Odysseus!” She beamed, “I got married around your age, a bit older. I will admit, I miss the
company of my sisters and cousins, but I love my husband. The only thing to make my life even more blessed
is if I can give my husband a son soon.”
I smiled at that, “I am certain you will.”
She patted my head, tying off the braid. “You are a kind girl, you should try to hold onto that gentleness,” she
advised me.
“I’ll try,” I told her.
I once promised my mom that I’ll always be her sweet daughter, and I wonder if she would still say that to me
now.
She stood, and walked to the door. “Goodnight Raya, I shall see you in the morning.”
I gave her a shaky smile, “Goodnight Penelope.”
She left me alone in the room.
The bed was stuffed with feathers, soft to the touch, and the starlight from the window above it illuminated the
room.
I sighed deeply as I lay down, staring out of the window as the curtains blew in the warm night air.
What now? There’s so many dead, so many gone, and now I’m gone too. Do they think I'm dead? Have they
burnt my shroud? Or do they not even realise that I’m gone? Has the butterfly effect taken place? Will I ever
even be born?
No. I can’t think like that. I brushed the tears that had begun to fall down my face and onto my pillow with the
back of my hand. I have to stay strong, be smart, figure out a way home.
“If we dream a thousand dreams, how many would you wish are true? I would wish for none, for I
know that the truth is always a falsehood and that dreams are better to stay as sweet lies.”
{Dream rewrite}
“If I smile, can you sense the thousand and one emotions that I hide behind pearly teeth? Or does the
comfort of a fake smile wash over you like waves on a beach?”
The servant girls returned to dress me for the day not long after I woke.
Even in the future, I’ve never worn clothes so nice. The chiton they draped me in was beautifully fine,
expensive and lightly woven to the point of being transparent, a pretty cream that was pinned with a delicate
gold broach over my left shoulder. A peplos of a heavier blue material was draped across my body, pinned at
both my shoulders and tied with a golden rope around my waist to accentuate my hips, just as fine as the chiton.
They sat me down in front of the vanity and braided then sewed my hair into an updo at the base of my skull.
They pinned a head veil to a circlet made of seashells that decorated my hair, and it fell over my hair and
shoulders, trailing down to my hips. One of them attempted to put makeup on me, but I refused anything
beyond the crushed berry lipstick and kohl eyeliner. I’m far too aware of the fact that they used lead and
poisons in historical beauty treatments to let that powder anywhere near my skin.
A different young woman came to greet me at the door. Her clothes and jewellery were nearly as expensive as
mine, and she had her hair fully covered under a veil of thick yellow linen. She looked friendly and a bit shy
from the way she fiddled with her bronze bracelet.
She curtsied to me when I approached, “Princess Raya, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
I felt a bit uncomfortable with her deference to me, “You too. What is your name?”
She blushed a bit, “Andrea, daughter of Andromadus. My father was one of Queen Penelope’s father’s
generals, I was sent with her as a child to serve her as her lady.”
“Ah.” That made sense, politics are essential to any functioning kingdom.
“My Queen has sent me to lead you to breakfast, are you ready?”
Am I ready? I’m dressed, but I don’t know if I’m supposed to do something else too. How do princesses even
act? I grew up around soldiers- if someone offends me, I tend to yell and punch, not smile prettily and sip tea.
“I believe so. Lead on, Lady Andrea.” I nodded towards the door with a polite smile. She gave me another
curtsy and turned to lead me down the hallway.
I was surprised that three of the servant girls followed me, but I suppose they must be specifically assigned to
serve me?
God, how am I supposed to pull off being a princess if I’m already so uncomfortable with the idea of having
servants?
“Raya! I am glad you made it.”
Penelope rose from her seat to greet me with enthusiasm, and Odysseus gave me a small smile and nod from his
seat.
I was surprised to see that the dining hall was full. Penelope and Odysseus ate at a table at the small platform
overseeing the rest of the hall. Multiple young boys dotted the lower tables, and there was a separate table filled
with young girls and women.
Penelope descended the platform and came to give me a kiss on each cheek. “You look well-rested, how have
the accommodations treated you?”
“They are perfect, thank you.” I replied sincerely.
She waved me off, “Come, come, as our guest of honor you will be sitting with my husband and I. You can
share your story in more detail if you wish.”
I nodded, feeling a bit awkward.
I followed her up to the main table, picking up my skirts and hoping I wouldn’t stumble when I stepped up, I
sat on her left, in between her and Odysseus. Dear gods, is it normal to sit in between a married couple?
One of my shadows- a servant whose name I am pretty sure is Deme- laid a plate of bread, cheese, and figs in
front of me. My stomach gave a low growl and I delicately tried not to devour a slice of flatbread.
“I see my wife has taken a liking to you,” Odysseus said with a wry grin.
“She’s made me feel welcome, I have taken a liking to her too.” I gave him a warm smile back, hoping beyond
hope that isn’t some sort of Faux Pass or too awkward.
He chuckled, “Careful, Penelope has a tendency for fosters. You might end up being officially taken in soon.”
“Odysseus! Leave the girl alone. Besides, I don’t think there would be any problem with another foster,”
Penelope chided her husband before turning back to me. “You are more than welcome to stay as long as you
need, Raya. The gods have brought you to us, and perhaps it may even be for our hospitality- they knew you
would be safe here.”
Despite my doubt about any of these gods, I gave her a grateful look. “You’re too kind, I hate to impose on
you.”
“Nonsense,” Odysseus waved the thought off, but there was a slight furrow in his brow. “Unless you have
plans? We can help you get to wherever you need, Princess.”
Says the guy who managed to piss off Poseidon so much it took more than a decade to sail a 18 month
maximum journey.
No. I shouldn’t get angry with them. They’re being kind, taking me in when nobody else would. This stupid
bitterness should be directed at the guys who attacked me, not them.
“To be quite honest,” I said. “I want to learn. I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing. Well, I do have some
ideas, but they’re not anything good. I mean, I come from a completely different culture with completely
different expectations and roles and I’m still not certain how much of a language we share because you speak
so formally compared to me and I’ve already noticed that some words I say don’t translate at all. I can’t even
read your alphabet! I’m certain that I’m going to end up saying the wrong thing to the wrong person.”
I was rambling. I knew I was rambling but I did not shut up! Dear Gods, Raya! At least I was being honest, and
now they know what to expect from me.
“It’s quite alright,” Penelope placed a motherly hand on my shoulder, cutting my embarrassed thoughts off. “I
understand what it is like to be so far from your home and culture, and I know it must be a thousand times
worse for you. Do you have any ideas on how you would learn this though?”
I shook my head, blushing.
“Then you can stay here until you want to leave.” Odysseus declared.
“Thank you,” I felt like a broken record, constantly conveying my gratitude to them, but I have no idea what
else to do.
He gave me a reassuring nod. “Of course, princess.”
They didn’t bring up my past again for the rest of the meal.
The day seemed to crawl by slowly.
Penelope introduced me to the ladies who served her, and two of her fosters that were my age.
Agnethe was from Libya; she was a stern woman, with a motherly and fussing tendency who took one look at
me and said that I need to eat more. Cyanea is native to Ithaca; her family has worked for the royal family for
many years and she didn’t find my parentage something to fawn over me for, something that I was grateful for.
Elene has been serving Penelope since childhood; she was cynical and her greeting wasn’t very warm, but I
could respect that.
Sofia was a foster from Athens, she was 15 years old and happily told me that she was to marry Leodros-
another foster- in the coming spring. She was easily excitable and smiled often- she fluttered over me when I
gave my name and she insisted that we become friends.
Iola was from Thebes, and was the same age as me. She was a demure in the way that she’ll let anyone say
anything until they want to hurt someone close to her, and then she’ll appear with blackmail she got from
overhearing things because nobody thought she was listening.
I spent the afternoon learning to weave with them in Penelope’s solar.
I’ve never even touched a loom before and that was apparently something scandalous according to Agnethe
who took to teaching me immediately. I wasn’t doing too well, but I got reassured that I just need practice.
Sofia was chattering loudly about how two of her fellow foster boys kept sneaking off together when they’re
supposed to be helping tend the goats and Penelope had an amused motherly glint in her eye that said she knew
exactly what they’re getting up to.
“-and you, Raya?”
That snapped me out of my concentrated thoughts.
“Hm?” I hummed, wondering what she asked.
“Do you have any men waiting for you?” Sofia gave me a knowing smirk, “You’re so pretty, and a princess,
there must be princes and kings lining up for you!”
I was a bit shocked at the direction this had gone. Sure, I knew that in the past girls married young, but it’s
different to know that objectively and to be asked if I have a husband.
“Oh! Oh no, I don’t. I’m too young to marry where I’m from- I have to be 18, and most wait still until they’re
21 at least. I never really gave much thought to such things.”
“Did your parents not search for a marriage for you? No plans or alliances?” Elene frowned.
My hand rose to scratch a nervous itch at the back of my neck, “No. There was a war going on and that took the
precedence.”
Penelope nodded sympathetically, “We understand. Do you wish for a husband?”
Absolutely not. I saw what happened to my dad after he lost my mom, and I’m not going to let that happen to
me, ever.
“No,” I gave her a small smile. “I’ve seen too many people lose their partners to risk doing that to myself.”
They all gave me pitying looks.
Turning back to our weaving, the heavy weight of what I’d said pressed down on us, souring the mood.
I tried to keep smiling anyways.
“The pen is mightier than the sword, yet when all is said and done, we all say that Peace was impossible
to maintain and War was the only way.”
{Introspection here?}
Chapter 3
How long I just stood there, trembling, I don’t know.
Deme and her three companions came in to help me get undressed for bed, and I glared at them.
“I can do it myself,” I ground out.
She frowned delicately, “Princess, I understand your grief, but at least let me undo your braids.”
My braids? Why the fuck do my braids matter? I’m alone. I’m alone in this foreign and familiar world and I
have no family! I have no home!
“I said that I can do it!” I screamed at her, “Leave me alone!”
I threw a comb at her direction. It missed, clattering against the wall instead, but it was impossible to miss the
flinch she gave, the fear on her face.
She ran from the room.
Fuck. Fuck.
I sighed, putting my head in my hands.
She didn’t deserve that. I shouldn’t have- shoot, she didn’t deserve that.
Tears began to stream down my face.
I’m sorry.
I stared at the polished bronze mirror that was reflecting my too-pale face.
Bags- like bruises- rested under my eyes, my hair was ratty from where I tugged the neat plaits out of my hair
myself, kohl was smudged on my cheeks from the tears that streaked down my face.
I looked like a wraith. More of a ghost than whatever cursed apparition that took Luke’s form down at the
beach.
I laughed, high and slightly hysterical.
What else could I do? I’m stuck, far from a home that I won’t ever see again, confused and lost and slightly
bitter. It’s better to see the stupid irony in my situation than give into the urge to smash pottery against the
walls.
I’m pretty sure that if anyone oveRayard me right now, they would think me as at least slightly insane. Maybe
Penelope was right to tell me that I should hide in my rooms for a while until I get a grip on myself again.
Numbly, I stumbled towards the bed, shedding the layers of linen that I wore, baring my scars and smooth skin
to the warm night air.
I curled up under the fur blanket, shivering despite the heat, and wondered.
What do I do now?
“Sometimes, those who wander the earth are those who know the most, and those that stay forever
fixed are the most lost of them all.”
The sand between my toes was familiar.
The man sitting next to me even more so.
Hermes.
“Family isn’t perfect,” he said, staring off into a sea with a horizon that stopped suddenly. My sight blurred
trying to see what he was seeing, and a heavy daunting feeling weighed on me at the thought of trying to find
what’s beyond the horizon.
“I think I’m well aware of that by now.” I responded, narrowing my eyes at his image.
This isn’t a memory, I’ve never been here before, but this scene mirrored that morning where Hermes asked me
to try and reach Luke on the Princess Andromeda near perfectly.
The figure of Hermes turned to face me and I froze.
His eyes.
Instead of the bright sky blue they were supposed to be, pure white greeted me. His pupils, pure pits of void
black, were the only shade in his piercing sight.
“Then why do you keep expecting it to be?” He raised an eyebrow, “If you do not have a family, make one.
Reach out to the ones you do have here. Learn to move on. Your family- your home- is what you
make it.”
What is that supposed to mean?
“I can’t just make a new family,” I told the Not-Hermes angrily. “I’ve just lost my entire life, you can’t
just expect me to move on like nothing happened!”
He stood up, brushing the sand off of his jogging sweats, before looking down at me, unimpressed.
“I never said to move on like nothing happened, I told you to move because everything has happened.”
His gaze softened, “And you deserve happiness. Move on, Raya.”
 “A step forward can make you want to turn back, to look at all you’re leaving behind, to feel guilty
and doubt yourself. We are all Orpheus. Don’t look back just yet, there will be time for that once you’ve
moved on.”
I woke up abruptly.
My face was wet.
There were tears on my face. I’ve been crying in my sleep.
Sighing, I scrubbed at my eyes, tired. Why can’t I ever get a good night’s sleep? Or even a dreamless night? I
hate being a demigod.
I rose from my pallet, letting the blanket drop and pool around my waist.
The sun was above the horizon, I could hear sweet songs from the trees and the faint whisper of the city below
waking up.
It was beautiful.
A timid call came from the doorway, “Princess?”
I turned to see Deme standing at the door, awkwardly holding a jug of fresh water and a plate of breakfast.
My stomach growled.
“Come in,” I said softly.
My throat was a bit scratchy from last night’s tears and slight breakdown, and my head ached, but that doesn’t
mean I can be rude to Deme. I shouldn’t have gotten angry with her last night.
She shuffled forward, lightly placing the food on the table as if she was afraid of it making a sound, and turned
to leave.
“Deme,” I spoke up. “I apologise for last night, I shouldn’t have yelled at you, I was wrong.”
She was surprised, mouth dropping open into a small ‘o’.
I stood up, wrapping my blanket around me to preserve the little modesty I have left (Deme had literally bathed
me, I’m not sure why I was even bothering.) and walked forward to give her a small smile.
Deme gathered her wits, “O-oh! It is quite alright, Princess! You have caused me no grief, I am used to such
treatment!”
“Pardon? You’re used to this? Are you mistreated?” I frowned, concerned.
Odysseus and Penelope are lovely, they treat me well, but I knew better than to think that they were like that to
everyone.
“No! I mean, the foster boys get a bit rough when I show no interest back, but that’s the same with any other
servant girl.” She stuttered out.
“That does not mean it is right,” I insisted. “Come, sit down.” I gestured at the low table and it’s soft sitting
cushions.
She did, folding her legs on the cushion like she was ready to spring up at any moment. I joined her.
“Deme, I’d like you to know that if anyone touches you, as your current mistress, I have the right to demand
their apology. You’re safe with me,” I gave her a smile.
“I- Thank you Princess.” She ducked her head.

I sighed. It’s my own fault she doesn’t trust me, I have to earn back her trust.
I studied the young girl in front of me. She’s about 12 or 13, with russet tones and black hair and eyes. Her
clothes were obviously cheap, and her veil was ratty- I knew the only reason it wasn’t worse is because she
works in the palace.
“Where are you from?” I asked softly.
“Oh, um, I’m Anatolian. My grandmother got taken by Laertes when he fought a battle with the king of her
tribe over horses, and she became his bed-slave. My mother and I were born to the palace.” She explained,
fiddling with her veil.
My mind blanked. “You’re a slave?”
“Yes, Princess.”
A slave. Slavery. Oh shit, fuck no, this isn’t okay at all. Fuck, my own ancestors had been slaves. It's
deplorable! I didn't realize it was done here and now as well... This isn't right! I can’t… oh fuck, I can’t free
her- I don’t own her… Shit, I can't believe I have to think in such terms. This is horrible.
“Princess? Are you well?” Her wide-eyed face brought me back to the present.
“I- yeah. Yes. I’m sorry.” I shook my head to try and snap me back to the present, “Where I come from, slavery
is deplorable and any slave-owner should have the death sentence.”
Deme blinked like she’d never heard of such a thing before, “Oh. That sounds… lovely. King Odysseus is a
kind master, but I wish he would set me free… Wait! No! I’m sorry, Princess, please don’t tell him I said so!”
She panicked as she realised what she just said out loud.
My heart ached, “I won’t say anything, I swear. I agree with you, you should be freed.”
She gaped, hope in her eyes.
I shook my head, hoping beyond hope that maybe, one day, I can free her.
“Join me for my meal. I need the company and I don’t know enough about Ithaca, perhaps you can share some
stories?” I asked her instead.
She gave me a small, shy, smile.
Deme is a sweetheart.
She told me all about Ithaca: how it’s considered a barren rock by many of the richer Achaean cities and they
look down at it for being so, how Ithaca may be barren but it is a booming trading hub as the last Greek island
before the journey west towards the Etruscan lands, how many may call Odysseus a pirate because of his way
of sailing and coming back with crates of gold, how Odysseus has men and friends in every city in the known
world who tell him of news, and how Athens may be Athena’s patron city but Odysseus is her favourite ruler.
Everything.
We ate and talked about everything, slowly getting to know each other and our differences.
The Achaeans hate the Anatolians: they find them barbaric, that their men wear too much perfume, and that
their way of riding horses everywhere is strange. The Anatolians are indifferent to the Achaeans, but hate that
they terrorise their coast and bring their gods with them.
She fixed my hair and drew up a bath, calling the other servant girls to bring the water and oils up to my room.
I asked each of them for their names, home-lands, and stories, and they did not hesitate to tell me.
Iida was from Persia, she was bought from a brothel when she was four and has been working at the Palace
ever since; her 13th birthday is approaching soon. Mayet came from Egypt, she was a dancer and was lithe like
a cat, the oldest of the group at 17. Lais was born in Ithaca and her entire family has been on the island as long
as Odysseus’ lineage has ruled, she was the nearest to my age at 15 and she quietly admitted that she had a skill
in braiding hair.
Deme, despite being the second youngest of the group, was the leader. She spoke multiple languages and had
experience in serving foreign ladies who visited the island, so she was in charge. The other girls deferred to her
and I watched as she easily took the role of commanding them.
Deme is shy, but not afraid to lead. I smiled as I realised this- it reminded me of myself when I was her age:
scared, on a field trip to find a stolen lightning bolt.
As I left the warm bath and let the girls oil my skin, I let my mind wander.
One thing that was on my mind is Luke’s armour. Where is it?
When I asked, Iida nervously looked over to Deme for help.
“King Odysseus has ordered for a priest to bless it before he returns it to you,” she explained hesitantly. “The
wandering wraith gave us all a fright and we do not wish for it to haunt you because you own the last of its
possessions. The blessing is to help it move on.”
The Camp beads around my neck seemed to grow heavier.
“I understand,” I sighed. “When can I have it back?”
“Late afternoon, Princess.” Deme promised.
My fingers ran over the nicks and grooves of his armour.

Not three days ago, my worst enemy wore this. How funny it is that time seems to warp strangely with grief.
His breastplate was wiped clean of his blood, yet I could still see the ghostly visage of the coppery liquid
drenching it.
I pulled his greaves on, adjusting the straps so they would fit.
Strange, truly, that I have stolen armour off his corpse and do not care about it.
It’s easy to reminisce now that the sun is low, evening setting in and the darkness of night creeping up. There’s
no one around to watch me weep over the losses of a war that will never happen. Silena, Beckendorf, Michael,
Ethan, Luke, Annabeth, Thalia, Nico, Tyson, Clarisse, Conner, Rachel.
I wonder how many of them had drops of their blood on this armour?
I screamed when I realised that the knife I held- Annabeth’s knife- would never pierce my skin and let me bleed
like they did. The Curse of Achilles is still in effect and I cannot bleed.
I played with his sword belt.
To my surprise, a golden drachma fell out of a hidden pocket.
Picking it up, I eyed it with suspicion until I realised exactly what it was.
“Oh, you liar,” I laughed hysterically.
Luke said he didn’t have the money to pay for Charon’s fare to the Underworld. Liar only wanted a funeral
since I see a perfectly good drachma sitting in my hand right now.
But…
I played with the drachma as an idea formed in my head.
Silently, I took off his armour and set it aside.
There’s only a few minutes of sunlight left, but maybe…
Carefully, I created a rainbow using the water from a jug and the sunlight coming in through the window.
“O Iris, Goddess of the Rainbow, accept my offering! Show me Poseidon-bas in Atlantis!” I cried and threw the
drachma through the rainbow.
The image shimmered, but it didn’t connect to the other side. It was blank.
Father was refusing my message.
No.
“Pater please!” I begged at the empty image, “I need your help!”
The image didn’t change.
Despite my calls and pleads, the message didn’t connect.
My heart sank with the sunset as the rainbow disappeared with the daylight.
He refused me.
I stood up numbly and turned away towards my bed, desperately trying to blink tears away.
Then I froze at the warm glow that permeated my room.
“For all the claims of man, truth does not yield to their will. Truth escapes even the sweetest and
most silver of lies, and it always comes out. Be wise, my dear, and speak the truth from the start; do not
let your heart break when your lies come back to you, wounded.”
My dad stood before me.
No, not my dad. He’s my father, but not my dad- this isn’t the god who I spent my weekends with in Atlantis,
learning from his knee about the Sea.
He was tall, all muscle and toned skin, with the oppressing weight of his godly aura filling the room. His green
eyes- something he had no matter what form he took- were like tidal waves, staring into me under furrowed
eyebrows. His hair, same as mine, was as dark as the depths of the sea and fell in loose, tousled waves to his
shoulders. His chiton was loose on him, uncaring that it slipped around his waist, yet held to his form by a
string of seashells in the way of a belt. His trident was in his hand.
“Hyisi,” the word slipped from his mouth in confusion, his voice rough and deep as he frowned down at me.
I closed my eyes at the familiar word. ‘Daughter,’ he had called me in the language of the sea.
“Pater,” I responded.
“How?” He looked at me with incomprehension, “I have not had a daughter in nearly four centuries, yet you
stand before me anyways. The sea is in you but it should not be.”
The fact that he didn’t recognise me hurt. I’m his daughter and he doesn’t recognise me and even though it isn’t
his fault it still hurts.
“I am your daughter, Poseidon-bas, but I’m also not. I was born millenia from now, in a different land, but there
was a war and Kronos rose. I killed him, but he cursed me to- to be thrown back in time!” My panic leaked into
my voice the more I spoke, and I hugged myself in an attempt to soothe myself.
“Kronos?” His grip on his trident tightened. “My father rose again? Curses, how could the Fates do such a
thing!” He snarled.
I’ve never seen my father so unrestrained, and I could feel the waves grow in intensity as they beat savagely
against the shore.
“Pater, please! I’m lost and I need your help- I don’t know what to do!” I reached out and grabbed at his arm,
pleading. “He took everything from me: my Meter and Aidipas and friends! Pater, I’m scared!”
He stopped, the sea stilling as he focused on my words.
“I’m sorry, Hyisi, I didn't mean to frighten you.” He looked at me, really looked at me, and took the sight of my
slightly disheveled and frightened form. “How long has it been since you’ve appeared on Greece’s shores?”
“Tonight is my third night in this time,” I told him.
He frowned and pulled me closer, drawing me into a hug and pressing his face into my hair. “You understand
that I cannot do anything? Time is beyond my sphere of influence- all I can do is watch over you and help you
in your path.”
“I understand,” I whispered into his chest.
If I closed my eyes, I could pretend it wasn’t my father but rather my dad holding me. Mom is at home waiting
with a fresh batch of cookies to hear about my latest lesson about father’s kingdom and Triton is rolling his
eyes as he watches me eagerly attach myself to dad in search for any piece of attention. But this isn’t my dad.
He pulled away slightly, watching me as I shivered slightly at the sudden lack of warmth.
“Have I taught you about the sea?” He asked me, “You know our language, but do you know of our ways?”
“Yes. I used to spend each weekend shadowing you and Sa’Meter, learning about the politics and culture.
Aidipa Triton taught me the art of war and battle. My lessons were cut short, but I paid my fullest attention to
them.” I said seriously, earnest for his approval.
“Hm,” was all he said, musing a thought out-loud.
I waited a beat, but I’m too impatient to wait for whatever he was thinking about to be said. “Pater, what am I to
do?”
He smiled.
I’ve never been afraid of my father’s smile before. There’s something different in his grin now- a baring of
teeth almost like a predator to their prey. I don’t want to be prey.
“You can come live with me in Atlantis. You are a princess, I can make the seas recognise you as such. My wife
liked you in the future, she will have no qualms about you joining the household once again.”
A million stories flashed before my eyes. Gods- jealous, obsessive, predatory, controlling, impulsive gods-
hunting down those they deem as theirs. Holding them close and refusing to let them go. Hiding them
from the world because they simply want to.
A shiver of fear ran down my spine.
This isn’t my dad. This is my father: the powerful and temperamental god who used to drown sailors for not
praying reverently enough to him and appeared in mortal queens’ bedrooms to demand their worship.
This is not the god I’m used to. Fuck, all the gods aren’t the ones that I’m used to. I have to tread far more
lightly than I’m used to doing.
“Pater… I don’t know what to say,” I began, but he cut me off.
“Then don’t say anything.” He spoke as if it was obvious.
I fought the urge to dig my nails into my arm. “Pater, your offer is kind, but I am also half mortal. I cannot live
in Atlantis forever- it is not in my nature. I need to be on land as much as I need the sea.” I tried to turn down
his offer kindly.
He frowned, and the pressure of a thousand hurricanes appeared over the sea. “You would turn down my
generous offer?”
“No! I mean- I…” I stuttered uselessly.
His frown grew more pronounced.
“Pati!” I exclaimed, panicked. “I love you but you need to understand: an immortal life of a princess is not for
me! Forcing me to join a household that I’m not used to, and with Sa’Meter and Sa’Aidipa dislike of me
because they do not know me is simply not a good idea. Aren’t you the one who said that the Sea does not like
to be restrained? Do not attempt to restrain me in Atlantis!”
He looked shocked to be addressed in such a manner, eyebrows raised and green eyes wide. I realised what I
had just done- shouting at a temperamental god is NOT a good idea- far too late and slapped a hand
over my mouth in horror. Oh fuck, he’s going to smite me.
He didn’t smite me. Instead, he laughed.
“I see that the Sea truly is unrestrained in you, paidi mou.” He told me, amusement yet disapproval in his eyes.
“You should be wary when speaking to other gods, they won’t take your insults as easily as I.”
“You’re not going to force me to go to Atlantis?” I asked tentatively.

“No,” he responded, returning to his serious visage. “I may disapprove of your choice to stay on the land, but I
will not force a hyisi mou to do something that will make them unhappy.”
Relief washed over me like a riptide, and I beamed up at him. “Thank you!”
“Hm,” he hummed. “Do you have any idea about what you are going to do? Where on land you shall stay, call
home, have a hearth? Or do you plan to travel and quest?”
“Well, um, that’s kind of why I tried to send a message to you?” I said nervously, “I don’t want to go on another
quest- I just left a war- but I have no idea where to stay.”
He looked amused, “And you have given no thought to staying here?”
“What?” I said stupidly.
“Ithaca is a great sailing kingdom- their ships are some of the best in the Aegean even if the rest of the Aegean
refuses to admit so- you would be at home with their connection to the sea. I have no quarrel with their King,
and I know their Queen is kind yet wise- she’ll be able to give you a proper land education. Ithaca does not care
if their women learn a blade or learn to weave, you will be able to continue wielding your sword. The island is
remote, monsters do not care for it and you will be safe here.” He listed carelessly.
I gaped, is he serious about this?
“Besides, did you not get an offer of fostering from the Ithacan Queen?”
“How do you know about that?” I asked, confused.
He raised an eyebrow, “I’m a god.”
Touche.
“Are you certain that I will be safe here?” I questioned nervously.
“I am a god. If anything happens, I can easily interfere. Do not worry paidi mou, I won’t let you get hurt.”
My eyes flickered down as I played with my nails. I haven’t had anything but perfect nail beds since I took on
the Curse of Achilles, but I still picked at the skin. “I thought you aren’t allowed to interfere in mortal affairs-
it’s against the Ancient Laws.”
He nodded, “Yet we do it anyways. My brother does not care to enforce that law unless it serves him, and from
the way he watches over his godling daughters with a careful eye, he has no ground to stand on.”
I smiled at that.
“Thank you, Pater,” I said.

He smiled and leant down to press a kiss on my brow. “I have not had a daughter in a long time, and I miss
having one. Be careful, paidi mou, and take heart.”
I opened my mouth to ask him what he meant by that, but he was gone.
The scent of salty sea spray lingered in the air.
“Family is complicated, daughter mine, but is that not the nature of the Heart? Love deals only in
complications and ruthlessness; it is our job to soften it with trust, loyalty, and truth.”
I bit my lip and pulled the fabric of my shawl closer to me.
Standing outside the door to Penelope and Odysseus’ solar, I hesitated. Is this really the right thing to do? If I
stay here, I might be attracting monsters and putting them in danger.
But Father said that I will be safe here, and my dreams… they told me to stay and find a family here. I have to
at least try and settle here. There will be time for me to fulfill Luke’s promise.
I let a guard announce my presence and waited for Odysseus’ call, “You may enter!”
I strode into the solar, skirts billowing behind me as I walked.
Coming to a stop before the Queen and King, I gave a modest curtsy.
“Princess Raya, what is it that makes you seek us so late at night?” Odysseus asked, a calculating look in his
eyes.
“I was wondering if your offer of fostering is still available despite the events of last night,” I began to their
obvious surprise. “My father came to me not long after the sun began to set and advised me to stay on Ithaca
where I will be safe.”
Odysseus looked a bit thrown off at my admittal that a god had been in his home and he hadn’t known about it,
but he recovered quickly and smiled. “Of course! You are still welcome here, the wraith’s appearance is no fault
of yours and we enjoy your company.”
I let out a breath of relief, but when Penelope stepped forward to draw me into a hug, I stepped back.
“There’s something you need to know about before you accept me into your household.”
Penelope frowned, “What is it Raya?”
I took a deep breath.

“I’m from the future.”
Chapter 4
They believed me.
I almost thought they wouldn’t, but they did.
Odysseus quizzed me on everything he could, and although I said the words ‘I can’t tell you that, it may upset
the Fates’ way too many times, he wasn’t discouraged.
“So we’re remembered?” He asked so earnestly, “Greece is remembered?”
I smiled softly at him, “Yes. Greece is remembered as one of the greatest civilisations ever- the foundation for
the modern world.”
Penelope gasped, eyes shining and Odysseus pulled her into a hug.
“We’re remembered,” he whispered fervently. “Greece is remembered.”
I left quietly, giving them some space.
Penelope and Odysseus summoned me back to their solar the next morning.
“Raya,” Odysseus greeted. “Penelope and I have been discussing the information you revealed to us last night.”
I kept my eyes cast towards the floor, “I understand that it was a lot to learn.”
“Yes.” Penelope spoke up, “And I imagine that it is a lot to experience.”
My eyes shot up to meet hers. She stood primly behind Odysseus’ chair, hand on his shoulder. The curtains let
the sun shine into the room, casting her shadow on the ground in front of me.
“Raya; we are not here to scorn you, especially with everything you have gone through these past few days.”
Odysseus told me, “We did not lie when we said that you are welcome here.”
“Does the truth not frighten you? I have been cursed, many would turn me away without a second thought.” I
frowned.
Penelope looked disgusted at the very thought. “You are still a child- condemnation is wrong.” She shook her
head, “No. Instead, we would like to welcome you fully. Odysseus and I extend an offer of adoption.”
I gaped, shocked. “Adoption?”
Odysseus stood up, “We understand if you want to turn down our offer, but I can swear to you that we make it
with the purest of hearts. We-”
“Yes!” I cut him off.
He blinked at me, a bit shocked. I flushed.
“Yes. I’d love to be your daughter.” I said a bit more calmly.
Penelope beamed, and rushed forward to pull me into a hug. “I’m so glad that you’ve agreed!”
Odysseus chuckled and came to join the embrace, “So am I.”
I smiled at them, blinking back tears.
Moving on is something I may actually be able to do.
“One step in front of the other. Go ahead and let the tears fall as you do. You’re moving
forward.”
You know what is something that’s hard to get used to? Speaking in a foreign language everyday.
I’ve had my lessons on Ancient Greek like any other camper, but that’s a completely different thing to speaking
it everyday. My speech is stiff and sometimes clunky, with a heavy accent and words that didn’t flow well into
one another.
Not to mention that the Greek that I’m speaking now is a completely different dialect than I was taught.
Mycenaean Greek is a millenia older than Hellenic Greek and it hasn’t gone through any Doric invasions either,
so I might as well be speaking Spanish to a bunch of Portuguese speakers and crossing my fingers in hopes that
they understand. At least I have an advantage since I also know Halmaheran- Annabeth and Grover would be
completely lost.
Penelope and Odysseus, as my new parents, have elected to continue my princess-y education and I now spend
mornings with a tutor, Erymas, who teaches me how to read and write. He tried to teach me maths, but I
suppose a perk of the future is that Calculus got invented and so did a lot of other areas of maths, so we quickly
realised that I far outstrip him in that subject. Thrice a week, we put away the slates and scrolls and pulled out
the Lyre.
I’ve played the Lyre before, it’s the one instrument I used when I did music at Camp with Cabin 7, and I have
fond memories of Lee teaching me how to tune it. I was far from perfect, and Erymas was quick to point out
my flaws and show me how to improve, but I managed to dazzle him with my rendition of ‘My Heart Will Go
On.’
Fun times were when I went tit-for-tat with some of the foster sons on politics, economy, and philosophy.
Odysseus and the tutor Pytheas taught the boys themselves, and since I was the only princess from the future
and the only girl there who will be wife to a kingdom’s leader, I got to join them. I’m pretty sure
Pytheas regrets letting me into his lessons considering the fact that as a modern American woman, I’m down to
educate any idiot on the importance of democracy.
Odysseus ended up hiding his laughter behind his hand when I absolutely pulverised Melas in a debate over
taxes- what kind of idiot thinks that we shouldn’t have taxes?- even with my ridiculously bad greek. Leodros,
Sofia’s shy betrothed, was infuriatingly good at debating foreign affairs and, if he ever managed to get over his
tendency for shrinking away from talking, he could talk any enemy into becoming an ally.
“Princess Raya, I understand that as a foreigner you are not used to the… finer… points to Aegean
politics, but here, young women do not yell to prove their points. We have a long tradition of civilised
discussions and debates about civilised topics- I do not understand who educated you on this ridiculous idea
that we should tax every citizen, but it is better placed in the more… radical of Athenian debate chambers.”
Pytheas lectured me.
I raised a single eyebrow, “So the other boys may yell their points so they are heard over each other, but I
cannot? And this ‘ridiculous idea’ was taught to me by my Pater. My Pater the god of the Seas who rules
Atlantis with such a taxation system.”
Odysseus laughed out loud, clapping Pytheas’s shoulder as the stuffy old tutor spluttered. “She has a point, old
friend! Besides, I know for certain that when my wife starts yelling at me- my point is invalid and she is right!”
The foster boys laughed and scowled, some of them agreeing more than others.
As I left the room to go to another weaving lesson with Agnethe- I hate the stupid loom, why do I have to be
ladylike and learn to weave?- Melas and his friend Kyros approached me.
“Princess Raya,” Melas caught my attention. “You have a silver tongue even when it has difficulty wrapping
around the words of the language.”
I gave a polite smile, noticing that the others were watching from the side. “Thank you, Prince Melas. Your
ideas of improving the trading system were valuable too.”
Read: That was actually genius and you soundly beat me in that area of economics, but I still believe that my
idea of taxing luxury goods is right.
He grinned, and I felt the tension leave me as I realised he didn’t hold our debate against him. “Your words are
kind. We were planning to go charioteering and I heard that as a daughter of the Father of Horses, you handle
horses well?”
I blinked, “Yes, I can understand them.”
Kyros butted in, ignoring Melas’ elbow that met his ribs for interrupting. “Can you truly? That is brilliant!
Would you join us this afternoon then?”
Melas glared at his cousin but turned back to me with a smile, “You do not need to ride with us, we merely
thought you might enjoy meeting the horses.”
I gave Odysseus a quick glance for support, but he nodded with the clear ‘go on’ signal, so I turned back to
them.
“I’d love to.”
Deme bustled excitedly after me when I told her that I got invited to hang out with the foster sons this
afternoon.
“This is great! And especially since you’ve only been here for half a moon’s turn!” She chirped, fixing my hair.
I rolled my eyes, “They’re not trying to court me- they want to see the daughter of a god in action.” I replied,
and then pushed her hands away from the makeup. “I’m going to drive a chariot, not go to a feast, I don’t need
rouge.”
She frowned, putting her hands on her hips. “Prince Melas is the fourth in line to the kingdom of Pylos, you
could at least put a little bit of rouge on your cheeks.”
“If he is the fourth in line to Pylos then what is he doing in the pirate-ridden barren wasteland of Ithaca?” I
pointed out, “I am not looking to be anyone’s wife. Deme, put that rouge down.”
She grumpily put it down.
I stood up, ignoring her squawk that I wasn’t ready yet. “Lais,” I turned to the quietest of my servants (I refuse
to call them my property even if they’re slaves). “Can you grab my sandals?”
“Raya! You don’t have a veil on!” Deme scolded as if she wasn’t the younger one, the smaller one, and the
servant out of us. I would have smiled at the fact that she’s so comfortable around me, that we’re actual
friends, if it wasn’t for the fact that we’re arguing right now.
There may have been a slight whine in my voice as I responded, “Do I have to? I’m gonna be riding and racing
and it’ll just get in the way.”
“You’re a princess, of course you do! We can use one of the smaller headbands,” she suggested and I
reluctantly sighed and let her pin it on.
Despite our arguing over ‘formal and royal’ and ‘athletic and casual’, Deme and I managed to get me in an
appropriate outfit. My blue bordered peplos was open at the side, but carefully belted and pinned so none of the
boys would be getting an eyeful (like I sometimes got- is it so hard to wear something other than just a chlamys
when you’re wrestling or delivering messages? Dear gods). A thin golden belt accentuated my waist and held
my peplos closed. The only jewellery I wore was <strike>Luke’s</strike> my camp necklace and Riptide in it’s
pendant form. My veil wasn’t more than a prettily embroidered bandana that pulled my hair away from my
face.
“Are you going to drown me in perfume too or can I go? I don’t want to be late,” I told her.
She gave me a look. “Are you going to let me put perfume on you?”
“No.”
“Damn it Raya!”
A laugh came from the doorway and we whirled around to find Penelope looking at us, amused.
Deme paled, quickly dropping into a curtsey.
Penelope waved her off, “None of that now. I’m glad to see that you and my daughter are getting along so
well.” She smiled down at her.
Deme gave a weak smile back, looking absolutely terrified.
“Penelope!” I quickly stepped in. “I suppose you heard about my chariot watching this afternoon?”
She turned back to be and grinned, “Yes, that’s what I came here for! Odysseus said that Melas invited you to
watch them go charioteering!”
I shrugged, fiddling with a hairbrush. “That he did. To be quite honest, I’m only going to get out of the palace.”
The teasing glint disappeared. “I know that it’s a difficult thing to move on- are you feeling a bit stifled?”
I nodded, “I haven’t picked up my sword since I arrived.”
She sighed and dropped down to kneel in front of me, “Raya, you are my daughter now- you can tell me if you
wish to join the men in the training arena.”
“Are you not upset? I’m supposed to be a princess and weave- not use a sword.” I asked, confused.
“I am from Sparta, do you understand what that means?”
Huh? “Sparta is the most militaristic of greek states, their patron god is the Red War.”
She smiled, “Yes. Spartan women and men are trained to fight from a young age.”
Wait…
My head shot up to meet her gaze, “You fight!?”
I didn’t mean it rudely, but Penelope reminded me more of my mom if she was an Aphrodite kid. Nurturing,
loving, pretty and always with perfect posture. Not exactly the image you would think of when you imagine a
badass Spartan woman. Well… I would think of my mom as a badass- just not as a Spartan.
“Unlike my cousins, I did not marry for power- I married Odysseus for his cleverness and the fact that he saw
me as an equal. I still carry a dagger strapped to my thigh in case I need it.” She winked, then straightened and
stood up. “Now, if you prefer a more Spartan women's education- I have plenty of time in my day to teach you.
Odysseus is likely to encourage it too, so don’t you fear disapproval from his end.”
I shot to my feet and threw my arms around her, “Thank you!”
She laughed, patting my head. “Now run off. I believe the boys are waiting for you.”
I gave her a kiss on the cheek and hurried to do so, uncaring that it’s not technically ‘proper’ for a princess to
do.
I don’t have to give up sword fighting!
“Cut your hair, learn an art, sing your song, hold your ground. You’re free little mockingbird:
fly.”
“Princess Raya!” Melas called, approaching to drop into a bow. “I am so glad that you have made it!”
I smiled back at him, flushing slightly. “I am glad that you invited me, Prince Melas.”
Melas was, admittedly, handsome. Golden-brown skin, oiled and smooth, stretched over muscles. A blinding
white smile that complimented his hazel eyes. I can definitely understand why some of my fellow foster
daughters’ knees knocked together whenever he entered the room.
He ran his hands through his curly, light brown, locks. “Shall I introduce you to my companions? With your
many lessons, you haven’t met many of our fellow fosters.”
“If you please,” I agreed.
I truly haven’t met most of the 30 fosters of Ithaca- my lessons with Erymas were private, and then I weaved
with Agnethe or joined Melas, Leodros, Kyros, and Icarious (the fostered princes) with their tutoring.
He gave me a crooked grin and introduced his friends. “You know my cousin Kyros. Heirax is of Sparta, one of
Queen Penelope’s distant cousins, and he has a deft arm with a spear. Diokles is of Thebes, from the stories
Odysseus has told of you, you will get along well with your ability for numbers. Theodron is of Ithaca, he
knows every growing thing of nature from memory and can tell you a great deal about it. Cylon is of Crete, he
is currently studying to be a healer from the priests of Apollo. Xanthos is of Opus, he is our fiercest fighter and
has recently returned from a trading mission with Argos.”
I turned to them, giving a polite nod of my head as each boy approached to kiss my hand and bow to me.
“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” I said carefully in my best Greek.
Deme walked up behind me, basket in hand.
She told me on the way down to the courtyard all about each boy. Mostly about how none of them have women
waiting for them (How many times do I have to tell everyone that I don’t want to date?), and how the boys
would invite ladies to watch them show off.
“My servant Deme will be accompanying me,” I introduced her.
Melas glanced at her but didn’t pay her any mind, Cylon, on the other hand, gave her a quick greeting.
“It’s a short walk to the horses,” Kyros spoke up. “I hope that you do not mind?”
“Of course not,” I answered quickly. “Some fresh air shall be good for me.”
“Perfect!” Melas said and offered me his arm in escort.
I’m not going to lie, my mind short-circuited. Oh. Ohhhhh. I get why Deme kept pressing me about Melas now.
He likes likes me. In my limited amount of etiquette lessons, I’ve learnt that the gender divide between
women and men had this whole weird secret language and an unmarried guy offering an unmarried girl his arm
means that he ‘wants to get to know her better.’
“Oh.” My face felt like it was on fire as I delicately took his arm, letting my hand barely brush the skin of his
upper forearm in a very polite turning down of his advances.
Melas barely acknowledged it, nodding in a quiet ‘I understand, I’ll back off’ and continuing onwards.
Unfortunately, Theodron and Diokles absolutely caught every bit of our unspoken conversation and Diokles
elbowed at his friend and nodded at me.
Oh dear.
“So, do you do this often?” I asked as we climbed the steps towards the stable.
“Occasionally. We go hunting together more often than charioteering, but it’s almost always just us. Leodros is
not one for the thrill- the Grey-Eyed Maiden has touched his mind and he refuses to waste such a gift, and
Icarious dislikes horses so he only joins if we go hunting.” Cylon answered me.
“Oh yes, we swap Theodron with Icarious when it’s hunts,” Diokles joked to his friends ire.
“I can hunt!” He insisted, then turned to me. “Princess Raya, I can assure you that I can shoot an arrow nearly
as well as the archer twins themselves- I simply find hunts distasteful.”
“I am sure.” I reassured him, “I also find hunts distasteful if they are not necessary.”
He beamed, and I watched Diokles roll his eyes fondly at him.
I heard a whinny, and I shot to face where the sound came from.
There, waiting for us, were two beautiful bronze and wood chariots being pulled by four horses each.
I gasped, “They’re beautiful.”
The boys preened with pride, though I’m pretty sure Xanthos’ was more mocking and Cylon grinned at his
friend.
“Hello there,” I crooned at the beautiful palomino stallion closest to me.
The stallion reared, and the other joined in surprise and awe as they cried, “My Lady! Lady of horses!”
I smiled, “Well, it’s actually more of ‘Princess,’ but Lady works too.”
“Princess! We apologise, princess!”
“That’s quite alright. Now, your riders told me that you pull your chariots very well.”
“Yes! We are the best chariot pullers in Ithaca! Would you like to see, princess?”
“Wait, you can actually understand them?” Melas asked in wonder.
I raised an eyebrow, “Of course, why would I lie about that?”
All the boys gaped at me.
I smirked and climbed on a chariot, uncaring that it’s not very ladylike to ride in one. “Now, are you going to
show me your chariot driving skills or do I have to drive it myself? I must admit it’s been a while since I drove
one, but I did win a race against my fellow demigods.”
There was a mad scramble as the boys climbed on their chariots; Melas, Kyros, Deme, and Heirax with me, and
Theodron, Diokles, Cylon and Xanthos on the other.
“Hyah!” Melas cried and we were off.
“A horse does not care who is the rider, merely that they have the freedom to ride. Perhaps they
should not think so, after all, do you care who your master is? Or do you not know your master?”
Because the chariots were only made to carry three men at most when actually racing, we all got out at the
beach when we arrived.
We rode over a small road towards a stretch of beach that was private and there were no boats docking, where
the sun shone golden over the ocean and the sand was soft.
Deme set up a small blanket next to some rocks so I could sit, then handed me a shawl to protect against the sea
breeze. Theodron settled on the blanket next to me, so did Diokles, and Heirax chose to sit on the large rocks
instead.
“Watch,” he leaned down to tell me. “Melas and Kyros are the best with the horses, natural charioteers, both of
them, but Xanthos and Cylon are older and have more practise.”
“Who usually wins?” I asked.
“Melas and Kyros, but Xanthos and Cylon have beat them thrice,” Diokles said.
I watched as they lined their chariots up against the sand, side by side, and got ready.
“So, Princess Raya, I heard that you are from a foreign land in the East?” Theodron awkwardly tried to start a
conversation.
“Yes,” my eyes tracked every movement of the teens as they put on their helmets. “I am.”
“How do you like Ithaca?” He continued.
“It’s very different as to how I lived in my own lands, but I like it,” I tilted my head as I looked back at him.
“Much warmer too.”
“And your family? Do you have siblings or perhaps a husband waiting for your return?”
His question was innocent, but I stiffened. The waves crashed noisily against the shore.
“My land burned in the war that led me to flee here.” I stated blankly, refusing to look at him.
“I apologise, I did not know.” He flushed and looked horrified.
“I know,” I watched as the horses stomped on the sand. “I do not speak of it.”
The chariots were off, racing across the sand.
I understand what they said about Melas and Kyros being naturals- they rode a full two meters ahead of their
competition, gaining ground easily as they lashed on the reins. I could hear their whoops and shouts of joy as
the adrenaline warmed their blood and Xanthos screamed taunts and insults while Cylon focused on controlling
the chariot with perfect intensity.
I gave a cheer as they crossed the finish line- a pair of rocks on the opposite side of the beach- and they slowed
down.
They laughed, clapping each others’ backs and giving what I can only assume are teasing jokes in the distance.
They rode back towards us.
“So, Princess, what do you think of our chariot driving?” Kylos said with a grin, shaking his brown hair loose
from the helmet.
“You are passable,” I teased, standing up to help tether the horses.
“Just passable?” Melas grinned.
“Well,” I took Cylon’s helmet from him. “I think I can beat you easily.”
Cylon’s eyebrows shot up, “You think you can beat the best chariot racers on this side of the Aegean?”
“Yes,” I smiled sweetly.
Deme was glaring at me, the look in her eye clearly means that I have a whole lecture on proper princess
behavior when we got back to the palace.
Cylon smiled, “Well, if you say so.” He lowered himself down on the blacket, leaning back on Xanthos’ chest
and into his embrace.
Melas looked at me expectantly and I climbed on the chariot the couple had just vacated.
“Let’s race!”
One race turned into two, then three, but I didn’t care.
“Hiyah!” I urged the horses forward, projecting my desire for speed.
The wind whipped my hair around my face and made my peplos blow in the wind, but I didn’t pay any
attention to it as Melas and Kyros’ chariot was on my heels.
Is there anything better than racing chariots?
The rocks that signalled the finish line approached, and with single-minded determination, I sped towards them.
“No!” I heard Kyros scream as I whooped in joy.
The horses slowed down as we turned back to the resting spot, and we hopped off.
“I won again!” I beamed, taking off the helmet I borrowed from Cylon.
“That you did,” he said, taking his helmet back. “Three times in a row.”
Deme was a bit more annoyed than amused like the rest of our peers. “Princess Raya, perhaps you should stop
now? You’ve messed up your hair.”
I gave her a cheeky grin and plopped down on the blanket, “Of course, I still want to watch a few more races
and I can’t do that if I’m beating them all myself.”
Heirax laughed and tossed me his waterskin, “That’s true. Now, how about I get a turn?”
We all cheered and jeered as he and Diokles put on their helmets, climbing on the chariot I just clambered off
of.
We stayed, racing chariots and hanging out, until the sun hung low over the sea and we had to return to the
palace before it got too dark.
This was fun.
“There’s no time to sleep when there are worlds to conquer. Dreams are not reality, fight for reality
to be better than your dreams and you shall be the strongest of them all.”
“I grew up with Clytemnestra and Helen,” Penelope spoke. “My cousins were hailed as the most beautiful
women in all of Greece, meanwhile I was unwed at 19. Clytemnestra was always fierce, she may care about her
hair and clothes, but she also didn’t hesitate to stab my brother Perileos when he broke her doll and angered her.
Helen, on the other hand, has always been flighty and indecisive and she could barely wield a single dagger
without crying about how it hurt her delicate little wrist. I am quite certain that she married Menelaus only
because as a second son he inherited no land, so she wouldn’t have to leave Sparta, but he also had the full
power of Mycenae under him.”
She continued, “Compared to my cousins, I wasn’t exactly getting many suitors, but that was alright because I
was actually turning all the ones that asked for my hand away. My cousins were taught to marry well,
but my father taught me to be clever and marry a man who would value that. I was taught to wield a sword, a
spear, a dagger; to rule a kingdom without a husband and to make everyone underestimate me.”
She looked me in the eye. “And I believe that was a much more valuable education than what my cousins ever
got.”
She tossed a bronze sword to me and watched me catch it while she twirled her own.
“Raya, I am going to teach you how to survive in this world of man.” Her eyes twinkled as she smirked, “Now,
raise that sword and show me what you can do.”
Chapter 5
Isn’t it funny how quickly a year flies by when you get comfortable? It’s like no time has passed at all since I
arrived on Ithaca’s shores, yet I’ve changed so much that I doubt Annabeth would recognise me now.
“Shoulders back, head up.” Penelope instructed, “Don’t look at the cup.”
I followed her instructions, straightening my posture as I smiled demurely, passing her a wine cup.
“Too much eye-contact,” Penelope said. “Again.”
I wrinkled my nose, but took the cup back from her. “I don’t really understand why I have to learn how to
poison a man. I mean, I have my powers- I can easily just kill them like that.”
“The point is not to kill them, but also to incapacitate them.” Penelope frowned, “If your husband is rough with
you, you do not just kill him because that would cause an uproar, you add sleeping draughts to his wine so he
won’t join you in your marriage bed. If you are being mocked by a group of men, you add laxatives to their
wine. If you are being held captive, you poison them in a way that makes the death seem natural. Drugging men
is an art, and you would do well to learn it.”
I nodded.
Poisoning men, hiding daggers, lying, bribing, manipulation, breaking out of a hold: all lessons Penelope had
me learning. How to use gossip circles as a spy ring, how to bring the servants and slaves on your side, how to
use jewellery as trade instead of coins, how to escape a kidnapping. Penelope looks like she’s the picture of
perfect femininity, and honestly, she is. She just also happens to know how to fuck you up.
“Slip that vial in more carefully, if a drop of it gets on the cup then they may be able to trace it,” Penelope
warned.
“Sofia!” I shrieked, giggling madly.

“I’m just saying!” She said, “My husband has a lot of muscles!”
Andrea had doubled over, snorting and cackling.
“You were not ‘just saying’!” I said breathlessly, “You were definitely implying much more!”
“And if I was?” She asked coyly, “What would you do about it?”
“Tell your husband the filthy things you’re implying about him to your friends!” I countered.
She gave a dramatic gasp, hand on her forehead, falling back on the blanket. “Traitor!”
Andrea laughed harder, falling over.
The three of us had decided to have a picnic, breathe some fresh air, and say goodbye to Sofia as she and
Leodros would be returning to Athens next week. The sun was shining, with only a few clouds, and we were all
enjoying the outdoors that we’d painstakingly climbed a rocky hill for.
Sofia had married Leodros not two months ago, and had been enjoying married life immensely. Penelope had
joked the other day about them being parents soon, and I couldn’t disagree. She was glowing with happiness,
and this is probably the proudest she’d ever been with herself.
“Andrea!” She chirped, “What about you? I heard that Penelope found you a betrothed!”
She blushed, “Just rumor, but I wish. No, Penelope found a betrothed for Tylene, but Tylene turned her down
and asked about Theodron.”
“Theodron?” I gasped, “Our Theodron? Who likes to collect mushrooms and hates hunting? Miss ‘My Mother
Was An Amazon And I Will Settle For Nothing Less Than Blood’ likes Theodron?”
“Yes!”
We all gasped and tittered over this piece of gossip like a bunch of hens.
“I heard that Kyros was the one to set those chickens loose in the kitchen!” I suddenly burst.
“Really?!” Sofia laughed, “My servants were all up in arms over that! Parthia even swore!”
I giggled, “He did! And of course, where Kyros was…”
“Melas was too!” They joined in.
I nodded, “Iola told me.”
Andrea’s eyebrows rose, “Iola tells you some of her precious secrets? I’ve been trying to bribe her with ribbons
about Cyanea’s secret wine storage, but she won’t budge!”
“Cyanea has a secret wine storage?” Sofia gasped, “No wonder she never blinks at anything! I saw that woman
not even give Heirax a second look when she found him with blue hair and teeth, she must be drinking so much
to be so…”
“Done with everyones’ bullshit?” I offered, “Yep.”
Andrea huffed, “I can’t believe you got her to spill. What’s your secret?”
I shrugged, “I taught her how to pick the lock on the sweetwine cupboard. You know she has a sweet tooth.”
“Damn it!” Andrea cursed, not very lady-like.
We just laughed.
“ Femininity is a tool, my dears. Poison your lips, make your nails claws, have snakes as hair, sing
like a banshee. Make them underestimate Medusa.”
“Your game is silly,” Deme grumbled.
I just laughed, grabbing all of her checkers. “You just hate it because you always lose.”
“I do not always lose!” Deme shrieked, throwing her pillow at me. “I just don’t see the point of this game!”
“Oh? And you see a point of knucklebones?” I quipped, catching the pillow and punting it back to her. “It’s a
game, Deme, there’s no point to it other than fun.”
She huffed, but began resetting the board for another round of Checkers.
Deme ran her fingers through her hair, pulling the thick, straight black strands away from her face and back
under her veil. “So…” She began, “Are you going to tell me why I heard a rumor of you and Melas being found
together in the stables? In the stables, alone.”
I rolled my eyes, “Deme, I swear, you find romance where there is none.”
“So you’re telling me that Kyros and Heirax didn’t find you two in the stables by yourselves?”
“No, I’m saying that you are making a tsunami out of a wave.” I played the first move, shifting on my pillows
to lean forward.
Deme took a sip of her wine, exasperated. “That man has been pierced by Eros' arrow. He only has eyes for
you! Raya, truly, you are wasting a perfectly good match.”
I wrinkled my nose, “I told you Deme, I don’t want to get married.”
“Then court then! Courting isn’t marriage and you can stop it from going any further at any time!”
“Deme.” I gave her a look as I took one of her pieces.
“I really don’t see what the problem is, Raya! You have all these rich, handsome heirs wanting your hand
and…” She trailed off, squinting at me. “Ah. I see. You like girls don’t you?”
I choked on my wine, “Deme!”
She looked positively smug, “I should have known. Bet you want to join the Hunters of Artemis too, huh?”
“No!” I put my cup down, “Deme, no! I mean, yes, but no! I like men too! Unfortunately. I just... I-”
Is my face on fire? I think my face is on fire.
Deme sipped her wine primly, “That’s nice. You know, you could always marry Cylon. He’s inheriting a sizable
amount of land in Crete, with a lovely trading port, and Xanthos has sworn himself to him. Cylon can be with
Xanthos without a wife being in the way, and you can choose from a large selection of lady partners.” She
winked, “I heard Cretean women are… different, yes?”
I’m going to strangle her.
“No. I’m not marrying Cylon- Nor Xanthos!” I quickly stopped her from opening her mouth. “Deme, if
I do want to get married one day, I will do it. But I am not getting married to any of the foster boys, nor will I
be courting them.”
Deme rolled her eyes, “I can still dream.”
“Why do you even care so much anyways?”
She frowned, looking at me, completely serious. “Raya… You are my mistress. Where you go, I go. Unless, of
course, your husband decides to sell me or replace me. You marrying well affects me too.”
My blood ran cold. Of course, Deme and I may be best friends, but she’s still technically my slave.
“Sorry,” I muttered.
She flipped her hair back and downed her cup, “That’s enough of that. Now, back to the original subject: If you
weren’t kissing Melas in the stables- what were you doing?”
I smiled, and watched her take one of my pieces. “Well, there are horses in the stable.”
-
“You are not a bubble, nor can you be one. So embrace it, find your community, your love, your
home. Share with them what they share with you. You are not a bubble- pop it.”
“I’m so excited!” Deme whispered to me, “I get to see the Agora!”
The Agora was a public meeting place in the lower courtyards, midway between the ports and the palace, where
the King goes to address the citizens and soldiers about the current social and political going ons. Well, at least
that’s what it’s supposed to be.
The Ithacan Agora was one of the more modern Agoras in Greece. Odysseus had opened it to more than just
citizens and soldiers, and it’s slowly become a blooming marketplace filled with stalls of spices from India,
silk from China, and even ribbons from Egypt.
Unfortunately, a lot of the goods were ridiculously expensive, and slaves weren’t allowed in the Agora if
they’re not grabbing something for their masters.
I sent Deme a quick grin, then turned back to peek out of the curtains of the litter.
Servants were carrying us ladies (Andrea, Penelope, and I) down to the Agora in litters, these covered beds that
4 men were carrying, while the foster sons rode in front and behind in their horses.
I had begged Odysseus to let Deme come with me when Penelope said she needed escorts down to the Agora
for a shopping trip, and he’d relented.
“We’re nearly there!” I squealed into a pillow, giggling in excitement with Deme.
I was thoroughly distracted by a peddler selling golden bracelets when Melas appeared.
“Princess Raya!” He called, making me turn around to greet him with a small bow.
“Prince Melas,” I gave him a grin. “How may I help you?”
Deme gave me a rather unsubtle elbow to the ribs, probably trying to convey a message of ‘Be Polite To The
Pretty Heir,’ but all it did was make me glare at her. How many times do I have to remind her that I have
impenetrable skin and if she elbows me too hard, she might break her elbow? I swear, one of these days…
“More like, how may I help you.” He corrected, “Kyros and I were about to eat our mid-day
meal, would you like to join us? I’ll pay.”
“I’d love to,” I delicately slipped my hand into his crooked elbow like Penelope taught me to.
Deme and Kyros shared a Look from the corner of my eye, and I gave them a rude hand gesture from where
Melas can’t see.
It’s not my fault that Melas has the absolute biggest crush on me! I’ve made my feeling on the matter
perfectly clear to him, and all the other foster sons, but crushes don’t disappear overnight and he likes to invite
me along to whatever he and Kyros are up to. At least one good thing comes from me unable to say no to his
begging face, Deme and Kyros have struck up a very good friendship.
We passed a Heirax nursing a black eye, which I stopped to heal and tell him off for gambling on our day out,
and went straight towards a stall selling grilled pork and crackling.
Kyros took the opportunity to buy us all Celtic Ale, and we ate in a small corner, watching a performer juggle.
You know, when you are in the future and you look back at history, you don’t think that all these people travel
very much. But as I stand in the Agora, watching a muslim man peddle mosiacs and an asain woman dance in
fiery silks, I realise that the Ancient world is just as interconnected as the Modern world.
“Christopher Columbus was so not the first person to realise the world was round,” I muttered,
watching a woman spin, revealing chinese scripture tattooed on her ankle.
“What was that?” Melas asked.
“I was just thinking about buying some ribbon!” I quickly lied, “Do you think green or blue would look better
in my hair?”
“A deep blue that matches your eyes,” He said a bit dreamily.
I frowned, “My eyes are green.”
“No, they’re not.”
“Huh?”
I haven’t been able to see my reflection properly since arriving in Ithaca as they use polished bronze plates as
mirrors, but I’m pretty sure I haven’t forgotten the color of my eyes.
“Raya, your eyes are blue.” Deme told me, “The same color as the sea right now. They’re more green on
stormy days. I think they reflect the sea pretty well.”
Oh. Oh. Is this a Sea thing that I’ve never noticed? Probably.
“Oh, my mother has always just said they were green. I never realised they changed color.” I chuckled
awkwardly.
Luckily for my embarrassed self, Diokles appeared dragging Theodron by the arm.
“This sparrow,” Theodron shot a glare at Diokles at the name, “Just tried to buy what I am certain are baked
seeds at far too high a price.” Diokles groused.
I raised an eyebrow, “Really?”
“The seeds are rare! Do you know how hard it is to get your hands on Poppy seeds? Their milk is valuable!”
Theodron whined.
“Wait a second,” I nearly choked on my ale. “Are you trying to make Poppy milk? Isn’t Poppy milk a super
strong painkiller and drug?”
“Yes.”
I didn’t know what to say to my friend trying to create drugs, so I kept quiet.
“What did you buy?” Diokles asked, sitting beside Kyros.
“A pendant made of Amber from a Carthaginian stall and some henna from an Indian stall,” I answered.
“Melas and I bought a new pair of twin daggers and some nuts. You?”
“I got a new sword!” Diokles beamed, “Haggled with the seller down to 7 gold drachmas!”
Kyros whistled, impressed.
“I managed to buy papyrus and ink,” Theodron added. “The Egyptian stall was selling it at a discount.”
“Oh? Have you told Cylon about that yet?” Melas asked.
He shook his head, “Cylon and Xanthos got distracted a while back and I think they’ve spent all their coin
getting trinkets for each other already.”
We all rolled our eyes. Those two are joined at the hip and are the most responsible of all the foster boys, but
leave them alone for too long and they’ll do something stupid like get into a competition trying to show each
other up on who loves who more.
“Ah, I see you are all here.” Penelope said, appearing with the rest of our companions and some servants with
their arms full of swaths of fabric behind her.
Icarious was playing with a remarkably sharp knife, and I squinted at the most silent of the foster brothers,
wondering who he’s going to try to kill.
“Yes Queen Penelope,” Melas quickly answered, standing up to bow. “Are we to return back to the palace
now?”
She smiled, “Yes. Are you done with your shopping?”
Knowing that there was a stall of seeds right next to the stall of ribbons and that Theodron isn’t finished, I
spoke up. “May we pass by the ribbon stall as we return to the litters? I want to buy a ribbon.”
Penelope nodded, “Of course.”
Theodron gave me a grateful smile, and I winked back.
“One, two, Eris is coming for you. Three, four, Can you hear the lion roar? Five, six, something’s
wrong, isn’t it? Seven, eight, the dominoes have fallen, you’re too late.”
I shared a concerned glance with Odysseus.
Penelope had sent a runner to us when we were in the middle of a sword lesson, telling us to come as soon as
possible to her solar.
“What could it be?” I asked him. “Am I in trouble?”
“I am certain not,” he tried to soothe. “Penelope can be dramatic sometimes, you know this. Remember how
she summoned us a few moons ago, panicking because she accidentally put two generals with a blood feud next
to each other at Leodros’ wedding? Aetes and Evios didn’t even have a blood feud- Aetes just broke Evios’
nose for calling him fat.”
I raised an eyebrow, “And men’s ability to start massive fights over small blows to their pride is nothing to
belittle.”
“See! Now you’re starting to talk like her! They were fine: I gave them extra wine and a pretty slave to serve
them each and they didn’t say a peep!”
I wrinkled my nose, “Men.”
He gave a full body laugh, and I couldn’t help but join him.
We arrived at the solar with much lighter spirits than before.
That came to an abrupt end the second we saw Penelope’s face.
“Penelope, what is it?” Odysseus asked, by her side in seconds. “Has a war begun?”
That question chilled me. War: the Trojan War is supposed to start soon. Has it begun?
“No, no.” Penelope answered to our relief, “It’s nothing like that. I have received a letter from Clytemnestra.”
She waved a piece of Papyrus as proof.
“What does your cousin want?” Odysseus frowned, “Has Agememnon been treating her cruelly?”
“No. She thinks that Raya is our biological daughter.”
“What?” I blurt, walking forward to inspect the letter myself.
Dearest Cousin,
I hope this letter reaches you well. I have been hearing many things from sailors who have passed by Ithaca in
these past couple of months when I have inquired about your well-being, and one of them is the daughter you
have.
As you can imagine, I was quite surprised at the news that you had a child, especially since you have never
mentioned any children to me, but then I heard more and more from the sailors. A daughter with a god! The
pride you must have at birthing Poseidon’s daughter! I have been told that she has been raised in the Sea and is
as powerful as she is beautiful, and this is the reason you have kept her secret for all this time. I understand, of
course, a mother must keep her children safe.
Because of this, I am extending an offer of fostership. Your daughter sounds like she would make a lovely friend
to my daughter, Iphigenia, and I know that she can learn much from me. I’ve heard that she is a deft hand with
a sword, and I think Orestes would adore matching swords in the arena with her.
I have spoken to Agememnon about all of this, and he found it a wonderful idea. Spoke of finally having a foster
daughter, when we have so many foster sons. He sends his best wishes to you, cousin, and to your husband and
daughter.
I do hope you consider my offer,
Clytemnestra.
I blinked at the symbols written on the letter. Did she seriously…?
“Clytemnestra is a power-hungry bitch,” Penelope groused.
Odysseus barked a laugh, “And a bit bold too.”
“Did she really just imply that I could marry ‘my cousin’ who is 10 years old?” I gaped. “Orestes can barely
swing a sword at that age!”
Penelope sighed, “Yes she did. And she is going to be very upset when I tell her no.”
“You are?” I asked bewildered, “I’m sorry, but isn’t your cousin one of the most powerful women in the
Aegean? Why would you destroy a tie with her?” She’s also the woman who went bat-shit and killed her
husband with an axe, but he deserved it and she was completely right so I won’t judge.
“She’s already vexed that she wasn’t told these… lies… directly- not that she would have believed the truth-
and she wants to keep you as a hostage, Raya.” Penelope explains, putting the letter down on her desk and
reaching for the wine. “She’s implied that I have been cuckolding Odysseus, that Ithaca is unsuitable for me
and has been negatively affecting my health, that I am not a good mother, and that I am a liar. You are going
nowhere near her and her husband.”
Odysseus nodded, “You are our only heir too. If we send you to her, eventually Orestes will inherit Ithaca too.
That cannot happen, I refuse to surrender my only daughter to that man. You are staying here.”
My heart swelled. Odysseus just called me his daughter.
He smiled, opening his arms, and I barreled straight into them.
“I am keeping my daughter safe, and that is by keeping her by my side.”
“Thank you,” I whispered. “Papa.”
He pressed a kiss to my head.
“Raya…” Penelope hesitantly interrupted, “I understand you don’t wish to marry, but we really should start
discussing marriages for you.”
“What?” I pulled away, feeling hurt.
Odysseus sighed, “Penelope is right. It’s best to get you betrothed soon, before another kingdom finds out about
you and asks for your hand.”
“But I’m too young! Can’t this wait another year?” I tried to protest.
Odysseus looked like he was going to cave, but Penelope sent him a glare. He sat down on his chair heavily,
looking conflicted. “Melas has asked me about your hand. I understand that you do not love him, but he
respects and loves you. He is a prince, yes, but he is fourth in line to the crown. It is a good match.”
“Papa, please, no.” I asked him, “Melas is a great man, but I don’t want to marry him. I can speak to Pati, get
him to interfere, I know that he wishes for me to stay a maiden.”
Papa gave Mama a look that clearly said, ‘I’m not going against the gods, besides, she’s begging’ and Mama
was close to caving.
“Please Mama!” I pleaded, and she crumbled.
“One more year,” she agreed. “Then after that we will be finding you a betrothed.”
“Thank you!” I beamed.
“But remember, Raya.” She said sternly, “You inherit Ithaca if we don’t have children. You will have to marry
one day, sooner rather than later.”
I knew that they would have Telemachus soon, yet a small twist in my stomach worried whether my presence
here changed enough things that he will never be born.
“I know.”
-
<big> Deleted Scene</big>
“When I was younger, a little younger than you now, my cousin Helen got kidnapped by the Athenian king
Theseus,” Penelope began the lesson.
I did a double-take, “My brother did what?!”
“He was your brother? Hm,” Penelope had a distinctly unimpressed look on her face. “Well, he decided to
steal Helen to be his bride when she was 12, ridiculous, I know, she wasn’t even of marrying age. As any
Spartan woman, I was taught how to defend myself against a kidnapping, but I do believe Aunt Leda was
teaching Helen how to fuck a swan or something similarly ridiculous during every important self-defense lesson
we were ever given, so Helen had no idea how to defend herself from his advances. I was the one who raised
the alarm about her kidnapping, did you know? I watched Theseus and his foolish cousin carry her out of the
Palace- she barely kicked and screamed, honestly, I sometimes wonder if she thought it romantic or something
equally silly- and onto their boat. Helen had multiple openings for escape, yet she didn’t take them.”
“Because she wasn’t taught how,” I stated.
“Perhaps,” Penelope said. “Or perhaps she thought it wasn’t very princess-like of her to stab her kidnappers. I
could never tell what was going on with her: one second she would bite any wandering hand on her, the next
she would faint at the sight of the blood she drew from her own bite-mark. At least she has grown out of it a bit
more now…” She frowned, “I hope.”
“You saw her getting kidnapped, you followed her to the boat, but you didn’t interfere?”
“Interference might have meant my kidnapping too- it was safer to wait and alert Uncle directly afterwards.
Besides, I wasn’t going to risk myself over her, she cut my hair for telling her to stop crying over a dead cat just
that morning and Castor and Pollux saved her later. And she learnt a valuable lesson from that: one that you
will learn today.”
I have quickly realised that anything Penelope says about Helen of Sparta should be taken with a grain of salt-
she really doesn’t like her cousin.
“So,” Penelope said. “Remember this, Raya, always have a dagger on you as you never know when you might
get kidnapped.”
Chapter 6
“Raya!” Mama called, standing up. “Come, sit.”
I walked over to her, a bit bewildered at the sudden request to have lunch with her and Papa in their solar.
“Am I in trouble?” Was the first thing to come out of my mouth, “I swear I didn’t know Heirax was going to
put a lizard in my thread bag! I was screaming along with all the other girls!”
Papa laughed and shook his head, “You’re not in trouble. We just want to have a talk with you.”
I relaxed a bit, coming to lounge down on a pillow.
Mama was beaming, twisting her fingers in her chiton’s hem. “We have news.”
I was puzzled, “Oh?”
Papa grinned, “You’re getting a little sibling.”
I froze.
She’s pregnant. Mama is pregnant. I knew this was coming eventually, but god, no, not now. Telemachus was
only a few days old when Odysseus left for war- Helen must have been stolen by now.
My smile was shaky, “A little brother! That’s lovely, I’m so happy.”
It was Mama and Papa’s turn to stop.
“A brother?” Mama asked lightly, “You know that for certain?”
Oops.
“Sorry!” I squeaked, “I do. I shouldn’t have said anything, I don’t know if you want it to be a surprise or-”
Papa just cut me off by laughing. “You’re alright, Raya. Just surprised us.”
I shyly smiled, and the tension disappeared.
Mama tittered and began making plans of how I’m going to be a lovely big sister and how Papa and I could
teach him how to wield a sword. Papa was breaking a thousand and one etiquette rules by pulling Mama onto
his lap and smiling brightly as he toasts with his wine cup.
This is okay, we’re okay.
“A life given is a life taken- that is always true, and balance is always required. It is not always Life and
Death- sometimes it is a babe’s life and a mother’s life in devotion. Balance comes with life, and death
comes with balance.”
I reached out for the apple.

The pretty golden color caught my eye, simple yet beautiful. It pulled me in to the point that I could nearly
ignore the screams surrounding me.
A battle raged; men crying out as they breathed their last breath. Innocent figures falling to the blades of both
sides. Bodies littered the ground with more joining them every second.
A woman screamed desperately as her crying child was torn from her arms and thrown aside. The house burned
behind them as the child fell silent to a sword across her throat, the mother’s screams silenced a moment later
with a spear through her chest.
The flames that burnished the city golden-red burned all the brighter, their red glare turning the night sky
orange as it devoured the remaining homes of the city.
Turning the apple in my hands, the reflection of the flames danced across it’s perfect, golden skin.
A boy in armour too big for his still growing, skinny frame, desperately tried to fend off a man twice his size.
The man simply roared a bone-chilling battle cry before slaughtering him where he stood.
A mother stood knee-deep in the waves, her pleas for the battle to stop unanswered. She begged her son to put
his spear down, to end the war, but he deafens himself. An arrow flies and his spear falls.
The apple’s shimmering gold is flawless. Like a miniature sun trapped within the ripe fruit- beautiful.
A horse, galloping rogue in the midst of the madness, drags the corpse that was once its rider behind it; foot
caught in the stirrup.
No. That horse pulls a chariot with three other beautiful steeds, it’s rider drags a corpse around the city walls,
screaming their fury that sends shivers down the spine of gods.
I go to take a bite of the golden apple, only to make eye-contact with the god standing in front of me.
Hermes.
His white eyes bore into me, “Would you go to war for that apple? Let Discord get her claws into you too?”
I let my eyes fall to the apple to question, but it’s rotten; maggots crawl over it. I yelp, and let it drop to the dirt
ground.
The battle continues to rage around us, death and horror, and I whip around wide-eyed as I take it in.
This is a battlefield.
No.
No no no.
I can’t-
Not another battlefield.
I turned wildly, searching for an escape.
I won’t do this again, not now, not when I’ve finally found a home.
“Raya,” Hermes drew my attention once more, his eyes cold and yet his expression pitying as he studied me.
“You know where you must travel next. They need you.”
“No!” I shook my head in denial.
“No, you- you told me!” I yelled, pleaded. “You told me Ithaca is my home! It is my home!”
His expression didn’t waver.
“Please,” I whispered, falling to my knees. “I- I listened. I made it my home. It is! I’ve moved on- tried to
forget my past, them…”
I was shaking, “I can’t do this again.”
He just reached out a hand, not even bothering to acknowledge my begging. “Raya-”
“You told me to move on! I’ve moved on! I- I’ve been moving on… You can’t make me- I can’t give it all up
again.”
I’ve worked so hard, I’ve done everything I could to move on from my past.
How can you mourn something you don’t talk- that you don’t even think about? You’ve forgotten it, there’s
nothing to mourn.
And now… now they decide to drag me back into the Gods’ war?
I can’t…
“I’m sorry,” he said softly, his hand held out to me. “But it’s time.”
I don’t want to.
I wiped at the tears.
I want anything else, not this.
…But I have to.
I shakily raise my hand, taking his.

The air warps.
The background faded, just for a split second, everything twisting and muting. Am I waking up?
“What?” A familiar, alarmed voice asks. “Where- who are you?”
I turn to Hermes, and his eyes are sky-blue.
“Hermes?” I asked, shaking as I stumbled forward, still holding his hand. He, rather confused, caught me as I
fell.
“My Lady? Princess? What- What is going on?” His brow furrows as he looks down at me, then his gaze
sweeps across our surroundings. Blood splatters our heels as another man falls to a soldier’s blade. “Why are
you crying?”
That was evidently not the best thing to say. I shattered, tears welling up as I tugged at his sleeve, “They’re
going to kill each other! Hermes, they- I can’t- They won’t stop- I can’t stop it- But- Someone- I have- I don’t
know!”
He tried to steady my hands, blinking in confusion. “I… little princess, please stop crying. Princess, I don’t
understand; is this a prophecy?” his gaze swept around again. “Are you one of my brother’s priestesses? Please,
take a breath, calm and tell me what’s happening.”
“N-no, no, no, he- it’s the- the dream. Can’t you see! It’s a dream- it happened- it must happen- it’s going to
happen if-” I stumbled over my words as I frantically tried to make him see. “They’re going to destroy it all!
The city will fall and they’ll- they’ll puppet it- they’ll do it! They’ve done it! He told me- he said- I have to
come here- I don’t-”
“Who? Princess please, you’re not making sense. One of my aspects was here- barely attached to me but here
and then it detached itself from me when I noticed… Did you talk to it? What is this? Did it do something?
Princess, what happened?”
“A message! You’re the messenger and you brought a message,” I hugged myself now, standing on my own.
“He told me I have to move on-and I did! Now he tells me… he tells me to come here.”
This isn’t my Hermes, just like Pater isn’t my Pati… but he can help me, right? He’s always helped heroes,
always been a kind God. He’s always been one you could turn to.
“Who is the message from? Princess-”
“I don’t- I don’t know. I don’t know, I want to know, who did it?” I stared up at him. “Who’s sending me
back?”
“Princess, what’s your name? Who are your parents? I can find you when you wake if you…” He trailed off as
his eyes landed on the rotting, golden apple.
“Eris’ Apple,” he whispered in disbelieving horror. “This is… Ilium. Then the city, the city of Troy is- it’s
falling. But… but only the Fates- only they could know this outcome…”
He looked around in growing horror as the scene began dismantling with his realisation. Men crumbled to dush
mid strike, buildings dissolved into ashes, and the decay faded away to nothing.
“Princess,” he cried, his hands grasping for mine. “Seek the Oracle!”
His voice was as if he were a thousand miles away, a faint whisper I could barely hear.
“You need-”
The scene bleached white, though I could still hear an echo of his instructions being yelled at me.
The Oracle.
Those were the words branded into my mind as I woke up. I have to seek the Oracle.
“No,” I whispered, tears welling up in my eyes.
The sun, high in the sky, appeared to be laughing at me. Hot rays hitting my already boiling tears, illuminating
my grief for anyone to see.
“Princess? Raya!” I heard Deme gasp.
She ran over to my side, kneeling down to check on me. She brushed my hair away from my face, taking in my
tearful eyes. “What happened?”
“A dream.” I said shakily, gasping lungfuls of air. “A message from the gods.”
Deme gasped, bringing a hand up to cover her mouth. “We must tell the king.”
“No!”
My hand shot out to grab her wrist, stopping her from leaving. “A message from the gods.” I stressed, “Nobody
is to know of it until I tell them.”
Her eyes were wide, and she slowly nodded. My grip on her wrist relaxed.
After a few beats, I dared to let myself speak again. “How late is it?”
“It’s nearly noon. You slept even more than usual.”

Deme, along with Mama and Papa, were the only ones to know fully about the Curse of the Styx and how it
affected me. I was allowed to sleep more and have larger meals, but they thankfully had no tolerance for my
temper and I had learned to reel it in around them.
“Go fetch Lais and Iida, I wish to bathe.” I turned away, looking out the window.
“Yes, Princess.” Deme replied obediently.
I flinched. My friend shouldn’t address me like that.
“Deme,” I said softly. “I need some time, okay? I…” I sighed, frustrated. “I’ll be bathing in the ocean, get some
emotions out there.”
She nods, hesitates, opening her mouth, but then leaves without saying what she wanted to say.
I collapse backwards on my bed, mind whirling with thoughts.
The Trojan War. The Trojan War. The biggest mess of Olympian in-fighting. The Olympian’s version of a
civil-war. The domino that eventually led to Rome being founded. That war.
I’m so screwed.
The waves crashed against the shore violently.
I’d stripped the second we got to a private area of the beach, leaving myself only in a light under-chiton, and
ran into the surf.
At first I’d ruthlessly manipulated the water; bending and creating a whirlpool of anger.
Now, I was tired. The waves were still angrily battering at the sand, but I had sunk to the bottom- lying on the
seafloor.
Playing with his necklace.
I promised Luke that I wouldn’t become bitter or angry, that I wouldn’t let demigods be used by the gods, that I
would change Olympus.
A hefty promise that would be impossible to fulfill… if this war, this singular war, didn’t mean I could do it.
“Fuck.”
“Hyisi, watch your language.” An amused voice drifted in the currents.
I whirled around only to see my Pater’s form.

He had his arms crossed, an eyebrow raised, and a slight smile on his face. His chlamys was formal, perfect
golden embroidery edged the borders depicting elaborate scenes, and he was wearing light armour.
“Pater.” I gave a light bow, “Forgive me.”
“Perhaps I shall if you give me a reason for you forgetting yourself,” He stated.
I hesitated, “I… I’ve been having dreams: of a golden apple and a war. Pater… do you know what is
happening?”
He sighed, “As I feared- many of my children were touched by the gift of prophecy. There is a war brewing,
and Olympus is far too entrenched in it.”
I straightened. “You came to warn me.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes.”
“My family will not take kindly to kin, and they will show you no mercy.” His face turned stormy. “Neither will
I.”
I froze. Fuck.
“Your new ‘Papa’ is on the opposing side to mine. If you are to follow him into war, I shall be neutral, but do
not mistake my mercy, Hyisi. I will not defend you from my fellow Olympians any more than I shall any other
child of mine. If you are to protect yourself, I suggest you make allies.” His eyes soften just a fraction, “Or, if
war is not for your hunger, you may rest peacefully under the Sea. I can protect you there, paidi mou.”
“Pater…” I sighed, coming up to hold his hands in mine. “I am proud to be your Hyisi.”
The pride in his eyes was visible.
“But I cannot stay in the Sea- that is not my fate.”
Disappointment.
“Nor is it my fate to stay in Ithaca,” I twitched but refused to show weakness in front of him. “Nor is it for me
to sail off to the war.”
He frowned, “Then what do you believe your fate is?”
I gave him a small smile, “I don’t know, that’s why I am going to seek the Oracle- perhaps they will have the
answers I need.
“The Oracle’s answers are not always clear.”
“But their answers are always what you need to hear.” I countered.
He sighed. “Reassure your Pater only this: Do you want to be involved in this war?”
“No, but I’m old enough to know that life and fate do not care about my wishes.”
He pressed a kiss to my forehead then drew himself up. “That is your choice. I only hope that I will not see you
on the opposing side of the battlefield- that you are safe.”
“Goodbye, Pater.” I say, a lump in my throat.
“Goodbye, Hyisi.”
“A thousand choices, a thousand words. They are all for you, my sweet. For the love that I have for you is
what I live for- what my life is for. I’ll always choose to say ‘I love you.’”
Deme is worried about me.
I don’t blame her, I have been rather private these past few days. My veils have been worn liberally; over my
face and eyes; and my mantle wrapped around my shoulders. Excuses could be made as late autumn was
creeping across the lands, but everyone close to me had noticed something was up.
Melas and Kyros had come to Deme the other day- they asked about my health. Deme, the sweetheart, had
made excuses for me- saying that it’s been a year since I’ve left my first home and that I was experiencing a
late bout of grief. And she wasn’t wrong about that.
The cousins left unconvinced, and gave me some space whenever we were together in lessons- something the
other fosters copied- but still gave me concerned glances.
Considering that my temper (or perhaps Pater’s? I can’t tell sometimes) meant that several of the final trading
ships of the season came to shore a little battered, Papa decided to interfere.
“Raya, I understand that having godly blood running through your veins makes you different to the rest of us
mortals, and that your moods are… delicate… but you must remember that causing a hurricane is not the way
to deal with your problems.”
“It was a small hurricane!” I reflexively protested, “Far off the coast! It didn’t even sink any ships!”
“Raya.” I withered at his unimpressed tone. “What is going on with you?”
“I’m sorry,” I muttered.
He knelt down to the side of my chair, “I just want to know what is wrong.”
I looked away. “As a demigod, we have… dreams, and often these dreams can show us the future or important
events we need to know.”
He frowned, “And?”
“Queen Helen of Sparta was kidnapped by Prince Paris of Troy. The missive of war will come to you before the
winter begins, and ships will come for you before spring. There will be a war.” I answered tersely. “A thousand
ships will sail to Ilium.”
I didn’t need to look at him to see the shock and horror on his face.
“What will you do?” He asked me.
“I will be seeking the Oracle, as instructed by several gods.”
“Several?” He asked, before realising that wasn’t the point. “The Oracle? I can take you to her.”
“No!” I whipped back around, catching his eye. He seemed more focused on the tears falling from them.
“Papa… without you, the Acheans cannot win. Stay, have those precious moments with Telemachus, I can go
alone.”
He cupped my cheek with a delicateness that betrayed his warrior visage. “You have no idea how much it hurts
a father to see his daughter leave his home. I will pray to the gods everyday that you will one day return home
to me.”
“Papa…” I made an aborted move.
“It’s okay sweetling. I understand.”
That’s the problem. I wish you didn’t and kept me locked up here forever; at least then I would have an excuse
to not go.
“One, two, three, four. A step in the right direction means that you open a new door.”
“The Oracle!” Deme bustled as she helped me pack for the late autumn voyage. “Like the great heroes!”
“Yes,” I distractedly answered, picking another chiton for travel.
“The gods told you to seek the Oracle!”
“Mhm.”
“Do you think the golden archer stands watch over his Oracle?” She stopped packing to ask, wide-eyed.
“No, he’s far too busy for that.” I brushed the question off.
“Oh! I can’t wait to meet the Oracle!”
“Mhm…” The statement slowly registered in my mind. “Wait- what?”
She stared at me like I was being stupid, “I’m going with you.”
“No, you’re not!” I immediately protested. “Do you realise how dangerous this journey is? Monsters will be
attacking me every step of the way- not to mention the bandits, kidnappers, and slavers I might meet on the way
too! You’re staying here, on Ithaca, where it’s safe.”
Deme scowled. “I am a slave, we are never safe. At least with you, none of the men will touch me. Once you
leave, I will probably be reassigned to the kitchen or the cleaners. I’m going with you- King Odysseus said.”
I frowned, opening and closing my mouth but unable to find a good argument. Except… that would be the
perfect moment to set her free.
Away from Ithaca, able to start her life anew… yes. That’s perfect.
“Fine,” I said. “You’re coming too.”
She smiled, “Good.”
“Is anyone else…?” I asked, but she already knew.
“Melas and Kyros will be returning to Pylos now that they are of age and their fostering is over. They
volunteered to escort you to the mainland and the King agreed.”
My eyebrows shot up, “Possibility of Melas trying to propose marriage one last time on the journey?”
She smirked. “High.”
“Damn it.”
Goodbyes were far more tearful than I wished they were.
Mama was weeping by the time we arrived at the port, and Papa was being strong for our sake.
“My sweet daughter,” Mama hugged me. “Never forget what I taught you. I love you.”
“I love you too.” I whispered into her embrace.

Papa smiled, “Be strong, my daughter. I know you can do this.”
I left a kiss on his stubbled cheek.
Other fosters and friends I have made came to wave me off. Andrea, coming over her shyness, shouted
well-wishes from the dock. Some, like Heirax, shouted more specific goodbyes (“I won’t miss you nearly
slicing my dick off in training, but I’ll miss watching you do the same to Icarious!” is a farewell I’ll never
forget) with their waves.
At least I had a goodbye this time…
“Raya, are you ready?” Melas asked, standing at the bow of the ship.
I smiled.
Chapter 7
“Princess, the ship will reach the Chalkis port by midday.” Melas said, leaning on the rail of the ship.
“Sooner.” I replied simply with a smile, “I’ve played with the currents- we’ll make port within the hour.”
He frowned and eyed the waves warily. “Have you been doing that throughout the journey?”
I hummed noncommittedly. Our journey, through my delicate interference, had been half as long as it should
have been. Despite my heritage, I didn’t want to be at sea any longer than I had to be.
...I haven’t been on a ship since Princess Andromeda… since Beckendorf…
“Princess? Princess! Raya!” Melas called, and I quickly snapped out of it.
Leaving Ithaca seems to have brought all the memories I’ve suppressed, back.
“I’m fine, Melas, simply lost in thought.” I waved off his concern. “Where’s your cousin?”
He raised an eyebrow, “Kyros is with Deme, helping pack.”
“Hm.”
“Princess Raya…” He began hesitantly, “I know you’ve refused my marriage offers before, and I understand
that you do not love me, but may I ask why you’ve refused me? I’ve promised you love, children, riches, even
freedom! But you still… I don’t understand- is it because I am mortal and you are not?”
My pity for him was obvious as I grasped his hands. “Melas, you are a kind man, truly, but I can never be your
wife. It’s not just our different heritage. I cannot be chained to one place, to one time. I am a hero- a child of a
god- do you understand what that means? I’ve killed more men than you, I will continue killing monsters and
men for the rest of my life. Being your wife will only cause you pain. Please, Melas, understand that I cannot.”
He looked away, fists clenching. “Very well.”
“Melas-” I reached for him, but he grabbed my hand before I could touch his cheek.
“Raya, you have captured my heart. Understand that it causes me pain. I wish you all the best, and I strive to
overcome this, but I will always wonder what would have happened if you said yes.” His hazel eyes bore into
me.
He walked away.
I sighed, taking off my veil as I entered my room onboard the ship, only to yelp and yank it back on when I saw
Kyros was inside.
He squeaked, slapping a hand over his eyes and babbling apologies.
Deme quickly led him out.
I was barely able to sit on my bed when she whirled back on me. “Raya, what’s wrong?”
I gave her a shaky smile, “I love that you know something is wrong immediately.”
“Raya…” She breaths, coming forward to pull me into a hug.
I spilled everything.
“Melas is a fucking idiot.” Was her first reaction, and I can’t say I blame her.
“Weren’t you the one who kept pushing me to marry him?” I laughed weakly.
She pulled a face, “That’s before I knew he’s the type to blame others for his own faults. You are beautiful- yes,
all the foster boys liked you- but the fact that he fell in love can only be blamed upon himself and Eros. He’s
asked you several times, you have refused several times with- admittedly good reasons- why not, yet he still
insists.”
I sighed and pulled away. “I don’t blame him for being bitter, I understand that being denied is harsh-”
“-Yet that is still no reason to be cruel!” Deme insisted. “He wanted to hurt you because your refusals- though
not your fault- hurt him. That is cruelty, plain and simple.”
Deme, at 14, had the same righteous fury I remember having at her age. My fondness for her grew.
“Perhaps.” I said. “Perhaps.”
Melas and Kyros didn’t leave the ship with us at Chalkis.
“We will continue to sail down to Pylos, where my father and grandfather are waiting for us.” Melas spoke,
eyeing the horizon. “Our journey will be harder without you blessing, Princess.”
I smirked, “Your journey shall be the same as any other mortal’s. Besides, my Pater is in a kind mood, all ships
are sailing smoothly.”
The captain stumbled at my words in the background, realising exactly what that means.
Kyros grinned brightly, like a golden retriever with a wagging tail. “I’ll miss you, Raya. And you too, Deme.”
Deme blushed at my side, and I tried to resist the urge to roll my eyes. “I’ll miss you greatly also, Kyros, but I
suppose I shall miss your mischief most of all.”
He laughed brightly, and that was our goodbye. A smile.
My mind, unwittingly, drew comparison to another pair of mischievous boys with the same nose and smile.
Conner was upset with me when we broke up, and I remember Travis retaliated by being overly friendly.
No. This is not the place for this.
“Come on, Deme.” I called, “We better find lodging for tonight.”
“That is not a lion’s roars, or a boar’s trot. It is not a dragon’s flames, or a serpent’s fangs. It is not
cruelty, or hatred. It is a broken heart, my dear. Heal it.”
We left Chalkis as quickly as possible, trying to make it to Delphi before Winter truly begins.
It was a full day’s walk from Chalkis to Naupactus, so we left in the early hours of the morning only to arrive
near dusk. We grabbed a room at the cheapest inn for nobility, three silver drachma for two nights, and sunk
into our beds, exhausted.
At least breakfast was included with our fee.
“So, the plan is to stay another night here, we can’t exhaust ourselves too quickly.” I told her, reaching for
another slice of bread and cheese. “We still have a full week’s hike to Delphi.”
Deme happily helped herself to a Lady’s breakfast- I’d insisted to the inn owner that she dines with me and not
with the other servants and slaves, and the owner relented after a lot of grumbling and an extra silver drachma.
“I underestimated how tiring this journey would be.” She commented.
“Be glad I carry my own bag, else it would be much harder for you.” I joked, and she rolled her eyes.
“So what are we going to be doing in Naupactus?” She asked, biting into a fig. “We’re here all day.”
“We’re getting you new clothes.”
She looked up at me in shock. “What?”
I raised an eyebrow, “You thought I would let you continue walking around, looking like a slave? No. I’ll buy
you finer clothes- if we get robbed on the road, then they won’t slit your throat without a care. Noble women
are valuable, and if we get separated then any city would take you in.”
“It’s illegal for a slave to dress like a free woman.” She said numbly.
I smirked, “Good thing you’re not a slave. I’m setting you free this afternoon- Papa may have owned you but
he gave you to me, and as such I can free you at any time, especially if we are not in Ithaca.”
She gaped, and I remember fondly Rachel telling me of a term called ‘Blue-Screened Computer made Human’
which I think is the apt way to describe poor Deme right now.
“What?”
“Deme, do you want to return back to our room to freak out? I think we might get kicked out if you do it here.”
I asked her.
She blinked. “Raya, you’re a bitch and I love you. Please never surprise me with something like this again.”
I grinned.
Deme looked beautiful.
Her russet skin was washed and oiled, scraping off years of dirt and dead skin. Her straight black hair was
brushed through, removing any tangles, and piled up into a braid on her head. We lined her eyes with kohl, and
pined a red Palla-style veil onto her head.
“There!” I beamed, “You look like a Colchis lady.”
Deme was desperately blinking back tears so she wouldn’t mess up her makeup. “This is the finest clothing I’ve
ever worn.”
They were quite fine: a light yellow chiton with an orange and red peplos on top, small leather sandals in the
Anatolian style, and gold bangles and earrings from my personal collection.
“You look perfect- you’ve been serving ladies your whole life, you blend in just fine.” I assured her.
“Thank you,” she gave me a soft smile back.
I hooked my arm with hers and began strolling around the Naupactus marketplace, eyeing the few food stalls
open.
“Do you eat beef?” I asked, bending over to see a spicy beef stew.
“Yes, I-”
“Oi!” A man’s deep voice cut her off.
We both turned around to see what the commotion was, only to spot a Lord, possibly a guard, staring straight at
us.
Oh dear. Naupactus was a busy port city- one of the biggest in the Corinthian Gulf- and we were taking full
advantage of that to blend in with the crowd, but this guy apparently couldn’t take a hint.
“Follow my lead.” I whispered to Deme in English, grateful that I taught her a few sentences. She nodded.
“Yes, My Lord? Is something amiss?” I asked, demurely.
“Yes.” He frowned, his large eyebrows furrowing together. “I’ve heard talk that you are a Princess, yet you are
travelling unsupervised and you haven’t paid tribute to the king.”
I raised an eyebrow, “Princess? I’m Lady Sallia of Ithaca, and this is my sister-in-law, Demitra. Our husbands
are in port, they’re generals of King Odysseus.”
He crossed his arms, bulging muscles on display. At least I’m the same height as him- gods are all Ancient
Greek men short.
“And where is your escort?”
Deme smiled sweetly, “The men were being crude so we slipped away from them- just while we eat. Is there
something wrong with that? I’m sure our husbands will punish us, but a Lady likes her peace.”
He narrowed his eyes at us and I thought that I was going to have to stab a man today.
“Very well,” he snorted. “I pity your husbands for having such rebellious wives- I would have gotten a mistress
if mine was so chatty- no matter how pretty she is.”
He threw us a wink and swaggered off, pleased with himself.

It took all of my will-power to not stab him.
“Bastard,” Deme muttered under her breath.
“You said it.” I agreed. “I can’t wait until we get out of the city.”
“What are you wearing?” Deme demanded.
I had come back from my bathroom break in the woods wearing much less finer clothes than before. I was still
obviously a noblewoman, but the rich navy peplos I was wearing had been swapped out for a light blue chiton
with a light green himation. My prettily embroidered veil was now just a basic blue one.
“This is my other set of clothes I packed,” I told her. “As you saw in Naupactus, I was still dressing like a
Princess and that just spells trouble.”
We’d left Naupactus yesterday, taking the quieter mountain pass so we wouldn’t be bothered by bandits or
traders on the way.
“Of course,” Deme rolled her eyes.
I gently elbowed her for her cheek. “Come on, we still have a long journey to go.”
Deme opened her mouth to agree, but we both fell silent at the faint scream in the air.
“Did you hear that?” She whispered, her eyes darting frantically around to see where it came from.
My fingers drifted to Luke’s necklace around my throat. “Monsters.”
“What?” She hissed, looking terrified.
I hadn’t seen any monsters since arriving in Ithaca. Monsters were rarer nowadays, many of them still haven’t
been created nor had they learnt that they could come back after being killed, so I hadn’t been bothered by any
of them in truth.
I yanked on Riptide’s small sword pendant, transforming it into it’s sword form. “Stay close to me.” I
whispered to Deme.
No monsters stumbled upon our path, but I was paranoid for the rest of the night.
“Pretty words are just that: Pretty. The truth does not lie in the poetry, for the poetry is a tool. Lies are
sweet, truth is blunt. Rarely, oh so rarely, truth is sweet. Savour it when you can.”
-
One day.
One more day on the road and then we will reach Delphi.
Winter was beginning to creep in, and I was afraid that we may not be received by the Oracle. The Oracle
didn’t give prophecies in the winter, supposedly that’s when Apollo was with the Hyperboreans and Dionysus
was left in charge.
Since I wanted a prophecy, not an invitation to a party, we had to arrive as soon as possible.
“Raya, could we stop for a break?” Deme panted, looking ruffled from our week-long hike.
I winced, “We only have one waterskin left, and we ran out of food this morning.”
She wilted.
“Oh!” A melodic voice called, “Here, take mine, I have plenty of spare supplies and I’m nearly at Delphi
anyways.”
From the bush, another traveller appeared.
He was wearing only a chlamys, covering practically nothing despite the late Autumn cold. His golden skin was
oiled and gleamed in the sunlight. Blonde curls tumbled down his back, and perfect blue eyes peered down at
us, a blinding smile on his face.
Apollo.
The divinity was practically drifting off him like smoke. If I was any other demigod, I wouldn’t have noticed,
but after my long time around gods it was easy to spot them in the crowd.
...A blush rose to my face as I finally realised what he was wearing.
A naked Apollo.
Chaos damn the Ancient Greeks and their complete lack of modesty.
“Oh!” Deme gasped, “Thank you kindly.”
He handed her a waterskin and a wrapped slice of bread from his bag, smiling mercifully at her. He turned and
offered me the same.
Fighting to keep my eyes on his face (Don’t let your eyes wander down, gods Raya!), I smiled politely as I took
it.
“Thank you kindly, sir. Would our saviour grace us with his name?” I looked up at him through my eyelashes.
Wow, the first time I’ve met a man since arriving that is more than 2 inches taller than me. The six inches of
height difference was nice, he stood at a solid 6’1.
He smiled, but I could see the smirk hidden behind it. “Phraed of Delos.”
“Fred?” I blinked. Did he seriously use the same alias as when he helped me rescue Artemis? Has he been using
Fred for millenia? Goodness, how hasn’t Hermes taught him better yet?
“Phraed.” He stressed, annoyed.
“Sorry, I’m tired and my ears aren’t working right.” I quickly apologised, not wanting to tempt a god’s temper.
“Phraed is a pretty name, very unique.”
He relaxed, “That it is. What are two ladies doing, travelling alone?”
“We’re trying to reach Delphi.” I told him, “We need to reach the Temple of Apollo before winter hits.”
He looked smug, a pride radiating from his blue eyes. “Two new priestesses for the Oracle, hm? You’re in luck,
I know on good authority that Apollo will still be in Delphi for another week.”
Deme squealed with delight, and I was tempted to join her. But something held me back.
He was telling us himself, which means he is interested in us. Did Hermes tell him I was coming or does he
personally vet each person who enters Delphi? Or perhaps it’s the fact that we’re two noble ladies travelling
without an escort? Either way, we’d caught the attention of a god.
“Is something wrong, Lady…?”
“Raya.” I smiled at him, “Princess Raya of Ithaca. And this is my lady, Deme of Ithaca.”
His eyebrows skyrocketed upwards, his surprise at my truthfulness clear. “Is something wrong, Princess Raya?”
“I simply worry for what awaits us in Delphi.” I waved him off. “Papa told me stories, but I fear reality is not
like the songs.”
He smiled flirtatiously, “That’s because you have not heard my songs.”
My polite smile was very forced.
“Perhaps I can ease your mind by travelling with you?” He offered, “My sword is in my pack, I am quite
capable with it.”
Deme has no shame, her eyes trail his abs and she mutters “I bet you are.”
His smug grin gets smugger. Curse godly egos.
I made eye contact with him, “I would be eternally grateful.”

-
“He’s quite handsome,” Deme giggled. I rolled my eyes.
Apollo was walking ahead of us, giving us a lovely view of his back, humming softly.
“That he is, but he is an awful flirt.” I whispered back. “Pater would not approve.”
It was her turn to roll her eyes. “Doesn’t mean we can’t still look.”
Deme might be appreciating the view, but I was more worried as to the fact that the view is an Olympian god
with notorious moods.
“Ladies,” He called and climbed a rock. He offered us a hand to help us clamber up with him. “May I present to
you: Delphi.”
Following his line of sight, I spotted a sprawling city down below. Beautiful marble temples were everywhere,
and a bustling marketplace promised everything from jewels to prophecies. The Phocis valley was beautiful,
and the olive trees that lined the rocky mountainside were divine.
“Beautiful,” I gasped.
I leant forward to try to get a better view, but my foot slipped and I nearly took a nasty fall down the rocks.
“Woah!” Apollo said, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me flush against his side. “Careful.”
“Thanks.” I squeaked. My face was on fire, and I was far too aware of the lack of layers he was wearing.
“Of course.” He said, staring into my eyes.
Awkwardly, I stepped back, and his hands definitely lingered when he drew back.
Deme eyed us both, a smirk on her face.
I gave her a quick glare and mouthed ‘Don’t you dare!’
She dared.
“So, Phraed, I’ve heard the most wonderful stories of Delos and the Great Archer’s stories- especially from
Raya, she knows so many of them, she wishes to see the island one day.”
“Oh?” He smiled, “I can tell you stories about Delos if you wish, Princess Raya.”
I cursed Deme to Tartarus and back.
“I’d love to hear them!” I chirped.

Apollo opens his mouth and starts singing.
Deme gasps in delight at his beautiful voice, and I just internally curse everything and anything that happened
that led up to this moment.
...Curses, I’m crying, he’s such a good singer, fuck.
It was like all the birds and the winds joined with his voice to be even more melodic. The sun hit his features
just right, he was like marble yet so very lifelike. Perfection in human form… but he’s not human.
When he stopped, he put on a sympathetic face that didn’t match his gloating eyes at all. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I
didn’t mean to make you cry.”
Deme hastily wiped her tears away, “No, don’t apologize! That was beautiful!”
He smiled softly, and to my surprise, reached forward to wipe my tears off my cheek with his thumb.
Oh fuck. I’m screwed.
“Princess Raya, I find myself intrigued by you.” Apollo comments.
“Oh?”
“What princess leaves her comfortable life to become a priestess? Well, of course, I understand why you would
be a priestess- especially for Apollo- but why travel alone?” His eyes bore into me.
“Perhaps a priesthood is not what I seek?” I smirked, ignoring Deme’s sharp inhale. “Perhaps I wish for an
audience with the Oracle.”
The trees shadow us from the evening sun as we walk down towards the valley.
“And what would make you seek such a thing?”
“Is there not a war right now? My father sent me to the Oracle.”
He stopped. “The War Missives haven’t reached Ithaca yet.”
Motherfucker.
I turned to him. “And that’s why I wish to seek the Oracle. Demigod dreams of wars are nothing to laugh about,
are they, Lord Apollo?”
His lips curled upwards, “No, they are not.”

He glows softly, and his form becomes even more godly.
Blond curls that shine like literal gold, eyes that reflect a sunny blue sky exactly, skin that glowed softly like the
gentle laps of sunshine.
It suddenly hit me that the gods like to conceal their divinity in the future, and the gods of now don’t. Pater was
barely concealing his true form, I thought that was just because I was his daughter- but Apollo has just proved
that theory wrong. These gods love being gods, they revel in it, and I am just a little demigod.
My heart rate picks up.
Deme had fallen to the floor, kneeling, but I stood tall in front of him.
“Do you wish for me to not enter Delphi, my lord? I will return home if that is your wish.” I spoke carefully.
He tilted his head to the side. “You think I would help you towards Delphi just to send you home?”
“I cannot presume to know a god’s thoughts.”
He huffed a laugh, “That you cannot.”
Apollo raised a hand that cupped my chin, gently tilting my face this way and that. “You are interesting to me.
A godling of the Sea, raised in secret, now seeking my Oracle? And your prophecy skills…”
I smiled, “Inherited from Pati.”
“And capable of concerning my brother. Hermes didn’t say much, but it was enough for me to connect the dots.
A godling important enough that the Fates took over my brother’s body to deliver a message. What was the
message?”
I swallowed. “Go to Ilium.”
He narrowed his eyes. “That is far more straightforward than the Fates usually deal with. What was the
message?”
“I saw a war happening in Ilium, and your brother telling me that I have to ‘move on’ and that I can’t hide from
it. If there was any other message, it is one that has escaped me.”
He dropped his hand, and I missed the warmth that radiated from his skin.
“You truly are a fascinating one, Raya.” He smiled, “And I allow you to seek counsel with my Oracle.”
“Thank you,” I whispered fervently.
He tucked a stray hair behind my ear. “You have me curious.”
“And I of you.”
He smirked, “I have that effect. Come, I will walk with you until the gates of Delphi.”
He offered me his arm, and I took it.
“Humans are stars, rarely nearing each other, but when they do… it’s a supernova.”
“What will you do?” Apollo asked, breaking the silence.
Poor Deme was terrified, and it’s not exactly easy to reassure mortals that the god won’t kill them, so she’s not
very reassured by my smiles.
“Seek the Oracle? Listen to her?” I shrugged, “Not much else I can do.”
He raised an eyebrow, “Don’t lie to the god of truth, darling. What will you do once she tells you a prophecy?”
“I don’t know.” I answered honestly, “Follow the Fates’ directions? Fulfill the prophecy? Go home? I don’t
know yet, I have to find out.”
“And I shall be watching as you choose.” He smiled, “This is a farewell. I wish you luck.”
I smiled, “And I thank you for it.”
He bent down and slowly pressed a kiss on the back of my hand, then disappeared in a ray of sunlight.
Deme had to sit down on her shaky legs. “Did we just get escorted to Delphi by a god?”
“A god who was flirting with me, yes.”
“And you didn’t warn me?” She asked hysterically.
“Sorry,” I winced. “He didn’t realise I knew until I said so, I didn’t want to give up the game just yet.”
“Raya, I love you, but you’re an idiot.”
I grinned. “I love you too. Come on, let's find an inn.”
Chapter 8
The only inn available wasn’t exactly one that most ladies would stay in, but we were tired and I could see
Apollo’s chariot disappearing in the horizon.
I lit a candle as Deme prepared the bed.
“I still can’t believe you let me lust over a god for a full day without telling me.” Deme sniped, draping a sheet
over the hay-bed.
“Don’t worry, Sunshine takes that as a compliment.” I smiled, inserting a nail into the candle to wake us up
early tomorrow. “And I was too.”
I laughed as Deme spluttered, “Don’t call a god ‘Sunshine’!” She shrieked.
“Why not?”
“It’s not respectful!” She glared at me.
“Deme, darling, I think I’m past that. Besides, he should be flattered, I only give my friends nicknames.” I
waved her off.
She paused, looking at me. “You really are the daughter of a god, aren’t you?”
I gave her a strange look, “I should hope so, where else would my powers come from?”
I’ve entertained Deme with my powers before: little water figures of dolphins that leaped around the room,
slivers of water whips that tripped my foster brothers in pranks, the hurricane that drifted over Ithaca, the tidal
waves that brought seashells that we would line against our window sills.
“I know… It’s just-” Deme faltered, sitting down on the half-made bed.
“Different to see me actually interact with gods?” I offered, sitting next to her.
“Yes. You talked with him so casually, the entire time.” She frowned, “Did you speak with the gods often when
you were…?”
“In the future?” I said what she refused to, “Yes. Every weekend, I would travel to my Pati’s palace in the Sea,
and I would learn from him. Often, the Olympians gave me quests. I’ve met every Olympian, and even knew
some of them as… Well, you could say almost friendship.”
“Do you miss them?”
“Perhaps.” I ducked my head, “I miss my family more.”
Deme slinged an arm around my shoulders. “I understand.”
I leaned into her, “Thank you.”
There was a pause.
“...Raya, since your father is a god, would he arrange a marriage for you?”
I laughed. Same old Deme, always a matchmaker.
“Perhaps, but one time Tri brought the subject up and he grumbled that I was too young for hours.” I giggled,
“And if he did, I would be lucky to be matched to a minor god. No, I prefer not to be matched with anyone.”
“So you can do the matching yourself?” She wiggled her eyebrow, and I snorted and pushed her away.
“If it is love!” I shrieked, “Then I shall elope!”
We both burst into laughter, smiling at the ridiculous idea.
“And I,” Deme declared, “Shall marry no one!”
I smiled at that. “Perfect! You can help me murder my husband then!”
Deme choked, “Raya!”
“Deme!” I mimicked.
There was a pause.
“...Murder him for revenge or for his kingdom?” She asked, smirking.
“Why not both?” I smirked, “And then we can become pirates!”
We laughed hard enough to fall backwards on the bed, tears in our eyes.
“Moments in time pass so quickly, and when we look back, they are so immortal and yet so fleeting.
Appreciation for every sunrise is a gift, the knowledge that you will be without regrets because you
remember every happiness.”
The ancient alarm clock- a single nail pushed into a candle that’ll drop into the metal candle holder as the wax
melted- woke up Deme all right.
But not me. Curse my stupid Achilles’ Curse; I wish I could wash it off.
“Raya, you lump, get up!” Deme demanded, yanking at my blankets.
“Nooo,” I whined. “Too early, still tired.”
“Up!” She commanded, then grabbed my leg and dragged me off the bed.
I yelped, then kicked out at her. “Deme!”
She giggled and dodged, “We have to be at the Temple of Apollo before the sun fully rises, up, up.”
I poked my tongue out at her, then ducked my head in water. Like coffee in the morning, it wakes me right up.
“What are we wearing today?” She asked, peeling off her own shift.
“Our best clothing,” I told her. “We’re going to meet the Delphic Oracle, we have to look the part.”
Deme quickly took out her lemon yellow chiton and orange peplos, and my navy blue peplos and a vermillion
pink chiton, and laid them out on the bed. “Should I wear my red or yellow veil?” She asked, holding up the
two.
“Yellow, the golden color balances the lemon and orange colors.” I called back, pulling out a jar of olive oil.
“I’ll wear my crimson veil. Where did you put the perfume?”
“My pack, wrapped with the soaps.” She replied. “Crimson with pink and blue?”
“It’s expensive.” I shrugged, “Besides, the colors work well together.”
“Your eyes are green,” She pointed out.
“Not if I-” I swirled a jug of wine around, “-do this!”
Her brows shot up. “Since when can you do that?”
I smiled proudly, “I’ve been practicing that for a month. Does it look correctly blue or is it more purple?”
She peered into my eyes, “Dark blue, the purple is very dulled.”
“Perfect! Let’s get dressed!”
The Temple of Apollo was both beauty and grace.
The foundations and walls were marble, something rather new for the current ancient times, and it was a great
structure of 6 by 15 columns. The roof was plated with bronze, reflecting the sun’s light in a clear dedication to
it’s god. The walls and roof were decorated by laurel wood; a carved depiction of Apollo’s figure, hunting
down Python. Laurel and cypress trees grew all around the temple, pathing the way to the front doors.
“Well, here we go.” I smiled at Deme, hopefully looking more brave than I felt.
A woman was waiting for us at the door.
“Do you seek an audience with the Pythia?”

I snuck a glance at Deme. The temple was equally open to the public for prayer and talking to the Oracle, so for
her to be asking meant that they were expecting us.
“Yes, I am.” I raised my chin, “Will the Pythia receive us?”
She didn’t answer me, simply turning around with a simple command. “Follow me.”
I have to admit, I haven’t been commanded around in a long while, and it did shock me to be ordered around so
blithely. I’ve been a princess for too long.
The attendant took us to a separate side room, where two middle-aged attendants prepared us.
They took our clothes, then bathed us in one of the natural pools and smoked the room with bay leaves. They
didn’t answer any of my questions, but they did ask what offerings and gifts we were giving the Oracle. I
presented the Phoenecian dyed veil, worth probably around 500 golden drachma, and they nodded and left the
room.
Plain white chitons and veils were given to us to dress, and we were then left alone.
“Is this normal?” Deme asked tentatively, confused by the proceedings.
“No idea.” I frowned, pinning the veil into place. “The oracle of the future didn’t have attendants or priests, she
lived plainly and met any demigod who asked. Any records of the oracle of today that survived didn’t explain
what happens when you meet her, nor how the priests prepare you to meet her. To be honest, the only records
about the Pythia are from a thousand years from now.”
“So you are walking into this blind?”
I winced, “Yes.”
Deme sighed, “I should have expected this, shouldn’t I?”
“Probably.”
“My ladies,” An attendant called. “The Pythia is ready to see you.”
She led us through a tiny corridor, barely wide enough for me to walk through, and down a stairwell. We
arrived in a giant chamber, where the floor was natural rock, and fumes rose from cracks on the floor.
A single tripod was elevated above one of the larger cracks, a singular laurel branch was curled around the
tripod, and a heavily veiled figure sat upon it. Several young maiden attendants surrounded her, kneeling or
stoking large braisers, a few curiously eyeing us.
My first thought was to worry about the health of these girls’ lungs with all this trapped smoke. My second was
awe at the underground cavern with the temple built so perfectly above.
“Apollon warned me you were coming.” The veiled figure spoke, and I startled to realise that the Pythia was
probably a young girl no older than ten.
“Yes, I met him on the way.” I confirmed, finding my voice. Priestesses and attendants shared glances and
murmurs.
“Princess of Ithaca, Daughter of Poseidon, Hero with a path chosen by the Moirai. Ask, and I shall answer.”
I took a deep breath and raised my eyes, making contact with hers through our veils. “What is my journey
home?”
Green smoke raises, and vapours exit her mouth. I refuse to be startled by the familiar sight of prophecy.
“You cannot return to where you once called home,

But a path, before you, lays to the East,
With the sun’s rise, guiding, you roam,
When the battle’s won, you are released,
To your hearth, immortal, family won.”
The vapours receded. I closed my eyes
“Do you have your answer, princess?” The Pythia asked curiously, a childish undertone lilting.
I can never go home- to camp, to Mom and Pati, to Annabeth and Nico and Rachel, to everyone I once cared
about- I am still the plaything of the gods, at least, until whatever battle I win gets me released from their
service.
“Yes,” I whispered. “I do.”
“Fate is stardust: always was and always will be. Dust to dust, stars to stars, every action a reaction.
Reach a hand out and feel the passage and creation of time. This is fate.”
We were quickly ushered out of the Pythia’s cave and back into the room we were in before, our clothes left
hung up for us to redress and only those same two attendants there.
“Raya?” Deme asked, slowly leading me into the cleansing pool. “Are you okay?”
“It’s a bit overwhelming.” I admitted, “I need time to think about everything.”
“That is alright.” Deme smiled, “I can help or I can wait- either way I’m here for you.”
I quickly gave her a hug, whispering “Thank you,” in her ear.
Then let myself float to the bottom of the pool.
I had to think: Prophecies are tricky things, and running around trying to escape or fulfill it without any sort of
plan was something I never plan on doing again- five of those damn things have finally gotten that little tid-bit
into my head.
You cannot return to where you once called home
That’s the first line and the simplest: There’s no way back to the future, just like Luke said.
But a path, before you, lays to the East
The East. Anatolia and beyond; from Turkey to China, the world’s my oyster.
...You know what would be really funny? If I had to go to Jerusalem and help Jesus or something… but that’s in
another thousand years, so I’m guessing not.
East probably means Anatolia and, subsequently, Ilium.
With the sun’s rise, guiding, you roam
The sun rises in the East and sets in the West- that’s the opposite direction of the path, unless my path is
following the sunrise? That would take me East.
When the battle’s won, you are released,

To your hearth, immortal, family won.
These final two lines confused me.
What battle do I have to win? Perhaps the Trojan War, but that’s a war not a battle. Is it a personal battle? And
what, exactly, is released supposed to mean? Released from my curse? Released from life? Or released from
being the gods’ plaything? What hearth or family will I win?
Urgh, I hate prophecies!
I startled at the gentle shoulder tap Deme gave me, then nodded when she pointed upwards. Thinking Time is
over, time to go back to the surface.
We broke the water gently, and the attendants stared as they approached with towels. Guess they’ve never seen
any demigods use their powers before.
I quickly redressed, not wanting to deal with the winter chill for any longer than I have to, and wrapped my veil
over the top of my head and around my shoulders like a shawl.
They lead us to the door, and bow their heads as we exit.
“What’re you thinking about, Raya?” Deme asked softly, threading her arm through mine as we walked away
from the temple.
“I have no idea how I’m going to do this.” I admitted.
Deme had fussed when we got back to the inn.
“I’m okay, Dee.” I waved her off, taking my veil off myself. “I just need time to think.”
She still looked concerned, but she let me brush her off. I do need just some space, too much has happened in
too little time.
I moved mechanically through lunch and dinner, eating and cleaning up after myself, but chewing on my thumb
as I kept pondering my options.
And as I grieved.
I will never go back to New York, never see camp again, never see mom or Pati or Annabeth and Grover and
Thalia and- and-
They’re gone. They’re gone forever.
I fiddled with Luke’s necklace, watching as the water in the bathtub swirled in a mini waterspout.
Deme was asleep on the bed, blanket drawn around her body, but my mind was too busy to sleep. I slipped out
onto the balcony, pinning my veil to my hair and wrapping my shawl around my shoulders.
The cool night air made goosebumps rise on my arms, and I rubbed my arms, approaching the balcony rail,
side-stepping a table and sofa.
The stars were bright, constellations of heroes and monsters spread across the skies.
“Raya.”
I turned around to spot a golden god, looking about 18 years old, blonde curls tousled and falling off his
shoulder, a modest gold chiton wrapped around his body.
“Path to the left, path to the right. Robert Frost said that he took the path less travelled by, but all paths
make the difference. Take the path that you will love the difference.”
-
“Apollo,” I greeted.
“What, no title?” He purred at my informality. I internally cursed myself, lack of titles is less a lack of respect
and more of an implication of relationship in Ancient Greece, especially between a man and a woman.
“I apologise; Prince Apollo.” I corrected myself, “It is ‘prince,’ correct?”
“I can be your prince if that is your wish,” He smirked. “But, hm, my father is a king and I am his son, so I
suppose so. Not that that stops everyone from preferring to call me ‘lord.’”
I refused to respond to his flirtations, instead moving around him to pour myself a cup of wine and after a
second of thought, him too.
“Well, what is the reason for this visit, Prince Apollo?” I handed him his cup.
He took a sip, “I told you I would watch you choose.”
“I haven’t made a choice yet.”
“No, but that’s why you are here now, yes? You came here to think and choose.” He gestured at the balcony,
sitting down on a sofa and spreading his arms.
“You are correct.” I pursed my lips and leaned against the balcony rails.
He smiled, “Well, how about you sit here and tell me your choice.” He patted the cushion on his lap.
“I have many choices,” I replied instead. “I can return back to Ithaca, become a priestess here in Delphi, travel
on to Ilium. I simply dislike all the choices.”
“Oh?” He cocked his head to the side. “It sounds like you don’t have a choice about your choices.”
I sent him a scathing look, and his flirty smirk disappeared.
“I suppose you won’t like my counsel then? I have a few ideas.”
I frowned, “What are your thoughts?”
He offered a hand out to me, and when I took it he gently pulled me down onto the sofa next to him. His flirting
demeanor was gone, but there was something else in his eye that made me shiver: Amusement. Like I’m a
particularly interesting toy, he’s playing with me, yet with a gentleness one reserves for fine china.
“I heard your little prophecy, and while one doesn’t ask me to explain a prophecy just like you don’t ask a poet
to explain his poem, I have a few suggestions.”
I forced myself not to roll my eyes. I am fully aware that you don’t know what your own prophecies mean,
Apollo, you told me that in the future.
“Your battle- the one that you have to win- you don’t know what it is. And I think it’s not happening anytime
soon, and from the look in your eyes, you don’t think so either. In fact, I think that little battle has something to
do with Troy’s little war problem.” He surmised, sipping his wine, fingers coming to dance against the hem of
my shawl.
“So, that means that you need something to pass your time until that battle comes. And, great for me, it seems
that I’m your guide in your path to the East, and I have a path you will like.”
“Oh?” I say, discreetly trying to flee his wandering fingers.
“Yes.” His fingers drift up my shawl and to my veil, pulling it away from my face so he could look in my eyes.
“Would you like shelter? To stay at my hearth this winter?”
I froze, and his fingertips brushed against my skin. I pulled back.
“Your hearth? Do you wish for me to be your priestess, Prince Apollo?”
“No, that’ll be interesting, but I have a task for you yet, and one can never run from a prophecy. No, If you
agree to do a quest for me, I will allow you and your servant to stay in my temple for the winter.” He smiled,
like a cat who got the canary.
My first instinct was to deny, and tell him to keep his hands to himself, but I didn’t. “The sun’s rise, guiding,
you roam”- He’s offering to guide me, to be my ally in this godly world. I roam, but I am guided, not lost. Papa
has a god in his corner with Athena, Achilles has Thetis, Aeneas has Venus, Herakles has Hera, I need a god in
my corner and I see that it can’t be my Pater anymore like in the future.
“What kind of quest?” I ask, letting his stupid fingers tuck my veil behind my shoulder as he smirks.
“An important one.” He responds simply, “Do you agree?”
I smiled back, eyes sharp. “I do.”
He knocked back his wine cup and stood. “Good. Return to my temple tomorrow at noon and my priestesses
will welcome you, and I will tell you your task.”
“Very well,” I stood.
He bent down with the obvious intention of a goodbye kiss, and I stepped back and offered him my hand
instead. A flash of annoyance appeared in his eyes, but then amusement at my attempts to refuse him appeared.
He kissed the back of my hand, “Until then.”
“Until then.”
He disappeared in a flash of godly power.

I sighed and collapsed against the sofa, draining my cup. So much for not fighting the gods’ wars anymore.
Fuck.
“Agape and Eros are the loves everyone lauds: ‘O to love someone you are furor for, to love someone you
are selfless for.’ Yet no one comments on Philia, the love of our friends that transcends blood and bone,
sex and passion, heat and flame. Philia, that lovely flickering candle we light for our friends in our
heart.”
The Temple of Apollo is busy at high noon, a difference to yesterday’s whisper at dawn.
A smiling priestess, probably some thirty years old, greeted us at the door and introduced herself as Ledeia.
“The Pythia said you are Lord Apollon’s sacred guests and that you are staying with us this winter.” She took
our shawls and bags.
“That is correct.” I smiled.
Her eyes lit up, “Fascinating! We’ve prepared our lord’s personal room for you, as per his request.”
His WHAT?!
My teeth grinded against each other, “Pardon, could you repeat that?”
She looked confused. “Apollo’s personal room was prepared for you to stay in, as he requested.”
That little-!
Deme put a hand on my arm, silencing my outrage. “And we are thankful.”
“Yes.” I gritted out, “We are.”
Ledeia, baffled at my reaction, led us into the stupid room.
How dare he make us stay in his room? The nerve of him! Practically screaming that I’m his-his- his whore! I
don’t belong to him, he could’ve left us in the servant quarters and I’d have been perfectly happy, but instead he
has to humiliate me- and Deme- by implying that we are sleeping in his bed with him!
Why I ought to throw his offer back in his fa- Oh.
His room was the most elegant and luxurious thing I’ve seen, and I’ve spent a year and a half as a princess. The
walls were ivory, and by that I mean real ivory; ivory was carved up in detailed images on top of the marble
walls. The ceiling was painted a bright blue, probably worth thousands of drachma to paint, and crystals on
lines, like suncatchers, were strung up. The bed was silk, with curtains of what appeared to be spun gold giving
privacy, and made of laurel wood. Furniture, beautifully crafted probably by Hepheastus’ own hands, were
placed around the room. The open balcony, yet private with it’s view over the Temple’s gardens, was tiled with
blue, gold, and white depictions of arrows and bows. Perhaps the most beautiful thing in the room, a golden
harp and a golden lyre rested by a red velvet couch.
“By Olympus!” Deme gasped, her hands flying up to cover her mouth. I had to agree.
Okay, so maybe I’m not going to demand a room change as soon as I see that stupid Olympian, but I am still
pissed at him.
Ledeia puts our bags down on top of a mahogany chest, and smooths her skirts down. “My ladies, I was told to
let you get comfortable for an hour, and then lead you, Lady Raya, to the private meeting room of Lord
Apollon.”
Deme gives me a look. I sighed, guess it’s time to let her shower me in perfume in preparation of speaking with
him.
“Raya!” The god smirked as I entered the room. “I trust your new living arrangements are to your agreement?”
I leveled a glare at him. “When you said that I was welcome at your hearth, I didn’t think you meant literally.”
“Oh? But I always mean what I say- god of truth, darling.” He stood to welcome me, to my ire.
“I dislike the implication.”
“And what implication is that?”
I let him kiss the back of my hand, the pull away. “Aren’t you also the god of knowledge? You are quite aware
of what I mean.”
He laughed. “Fond of your reputation, aren’t you?”
I raised an eyebrow, “A demigod without any heroic stories to my name, what else do I have to keep my head
above the water in this world?”
“You’re a daughter of the Sea, and now, my champion. I suggest you stop focusing on keeping your head up
and more on what I want you to do.”
I leant forward, stealing his nectar cup from his hand and taking a sip, smiling at the taste of mom’s blue
cookies. “And what is it you want me to do?”
His eyes were wide at my audacity, “I want you to escort my daughter to Athens.”
“Not the typical quest,” I took another sip then handed the cup back, careful not to burn myself up. “Is there a
catch?”
“No, I just thought the quest needed a feminine touch.” He offered a seat with the wave of his hand, and I let
him pull out a chair for me.
“Does your sister know you said that?” I said, then paused at his glare. “Sorry.”
“I am trusting much to you with this task, do not make me regret it.” He sat down opposite me, leaning back on
his chair to assess me.
“I understand.”
His face hardened, “My daughter is pursued: she is born with the rarest of my two gifts, Prophecy and Plague.
Chiron has, of five months ago, lost his two students Achilles and Patroclus, and will be making his way south
towards Athens to meet his newest student, my sister’s son, Zethus. I want you to take her to meet him there.”
I nodded, “Has he been notified that she is to be his student?”
“Yes, he’s consented to it already, even with her being much younger than his usual students.” He sipped his
nectar, then frowned down at it. I’m guessing he can taste my lip tint.
“When do I have to leave?” I asked, “And may I meet your daughter beforehand?”
He relaxed, a smile returning to his face. “When I return to this Temple after Winter. Yes you may, in fact, I will
be giving you primary guardianship on her for the winter.” My mouth dropped open, but he just smiled and
whistled. “She has been raised for the past two years here after I brought her when her mother died.”
The whistle must have been a signal of some kind, because a priestess suddenly led a little girl, probably no
older than five, through the door.
She was a sweet, cherub faced thing, all chubby cheeks and wide blue eyes. Her hair was thickly curled, a light
brown that I know would shine gold in the sunlight. She looked shy and curious, and my heart melted.
I crossed the room, kneeling down and smiling at the adorable child. “Hello, what’s your name?”
She smiled shyly, and offered a sweet “Apollide.”
I laughed. “Your name, sweetling, I know who your father is.”
She just looked confused at me, “I’m Apollide.”
I glanced up at Apollo, concerned. “What’s your daughter’s name, Apollo?”
He drained his cup with a wince, “Her mother never told me before she died, and I see the priestesses neglected
to do so either.”
My face went slack, then burning with fury, I stood up. “Nobody named her?!”
“Her mother did.” He raised an eyebrow, amused at my indignant response.
I stalked up to his, ready to scream and shout, but refrained from doing so for the little girl’s sake. “You!” I
poked a finger at his chest to his disbelief, “Are her father! Your daughter! How dare you be so cruel?! Name
her you- you-!”
His hand curled around my finger, lowering it, a smug look creeping onto his face. “And this is why I know you
are a good guardian for my daughter- you are protective of her even after knowing her for a few seconds. The
priestesses never showed such care, only awe; they never cared enough to find out her name.”
My fury went from hot to cold, “You still haven’t named her. You haven’t shown much care either.”
His head tilted to the side, eyes narrowing as he looked me up and down. “How about you name her then?”
He hadn’t let go of my accusing hand, instead just holding it tightly in his own. I turned my head to the little
angel watching us.
“Olivia,” I decided, looking back into his watchful eyes. “Olivia Apollide.”
He smiled, pure and genuine. “Olivia. After the olive trees?”
My lips twitched, “Olives are precious, expensive, a luxury. She is precious.”
He beamed, and gently let go of my hand, stepping around me to bend down and hoist his daughter against his
hip, the first fatherly action I’ve seen him do and it looked startling considering we both looked the same age.
He kissed the top of his daughter’s curls. “Olivia Apollide,” He whispered reverently. “My precious daughter.
I’ll be watching over you.”
My fury vanished at the clearly caring parental display. Maybe he does care…
“Olivia, Raya is going to take care of you, okay?” He told his daughter, “You listen to her like she’s your own
mother- you’re her ward now.”
He pressed another kiss to her forehead, then gently passed her to me. I kissed her forehead as well.
He smiled at seeing me carrying Olivia, “Good luck.”
I gently shielded her eyes as he vanished.
“Is that a child?” Deme gaped.
“Deme, meet Olivia Apollide. My quest is to get her to Athens where she will meet her teacher, Chiron.” I gave
her a shaky smile.
“Sweetling, do you wanna sit on the bed?” I asked the little girl, who nodded and let herself be dropped on the
bed.
“Athens? With a child, that’s quite a long journey for us.” Deme offered me a wet towel to wipe my makeup
off.
I frowned, “Us? Only I have to do this quest, Deme, you don’t have to come.”
Deme stepped forward and grabbed me in a hug, “I want to come.”
I buried my face in her shoulder, “It’s dangerous.”
“I don’t care.”
“It’ll be a hard task: you can stay here and live in comfort.”
“You’re my best friend, you are my comfort.”
We stayed in that hug for a few seconds, clinging to each other.
I pulled back slightly, “Want to go raid a god’s bookshelf?”
“Raya!”
I grinned, “There’ll be some nice stories for Olivia, come on.”
She’ll leave me, I know she will, everyone does. At least I’ll enjoy my time with her and I’ll treasure it.
Chapter 9
“Olivia!” I called, picking up my skirts to run after the giggling young girl.
I’d taken the little girl out of the temple and into the snow-covered garden after she’d sneezed and given a poor
servant the flu, but I’d quickly come to regret the action as she was full of energy and didn’t mind the cold
snow. In fact, she had kicked off her boots and was running through the once grassy garden barefoot.
“Olivia!” I called, sharper. I caught up with her, quickly snatching her up and holsting the little brat onto my
hip. “Don’t run away like that!”
She just giggled in response, “Did you see? I was as fast as Papa’s arrows!”
“I saw.” Sighing, I turned back towards the temple, trudging through the snow. “You were very quick, but you
shouldn’t run away from me like that, it can be very dangerous.”
“Sorry!” She smiled sweetly, and all my annoyance melted away.
Internally, I sent a prayer for all the mothers and cabin counsellors who have to watch over demigods, goodness
are they a handful. Stopping to pick up Olivia’s discarded boots, I contemplated sacrificing an apple to Luke’s
spirit, just as a small acknowledgement of the absolute hell he must have gone through as the cabin head of all
the Hermes children and the unclaimed and minor kids.
Deme laughed at me, holding out a rag for me to wipe the mess off of Olivia’s legs. “Little one is a
troublemaker.”
“Little one is just like her father,” I corrected, trying to get the squirming child to put her boots back on.
“Olivia, hold still please.”
“No,” She whined, but I managed to put her boots back on. In a second, she was racing back inside the temple,
nearly running over an attendant.
“You’ve got snowflakes in your hair,” Deme amusedly notes.
I rolled my eyes and pushed her fussing hands away from my hair. “You’re not my servant anymore, Deme, I
can do things myself.”
Deme gave me a sharp glare, “I was your slave, Raya, call it what it was. And I am fully aware that you can do
things yourself, but given that you don’t, I’m helping you.”
I immediately deflated, “Sorry.”
Deme raised an eyebrow, “Now, are you going to just keep standing here, apologising, or are you going to catch
your runaway ward?”
I blanched, realising Olivia was nowhere in sight. “Olivia Apollide!” I shrieked, and began running.
Deme just sighed.
I sighed, brushing Olivia’s hair away from her sleeping face.
The little troublemaker looked angelic as she slept, curled up in Deme’s arms in our bed. The moonlight cast
her face in a glow of peacefulness, and I wish I could have that in the daytime too.
I tried to close my eyes and sleep, but the nightmares kept creeping behind my eyelids.
“Raya.”
My lips twitched, and I turned my head to see Apollo standing by the bed.
“Prince Apollo.”
He’d done this three times already, silently appearing just to check up on Olivia, never staying long.
“How is she?” He peered down at her sleeping face, soft smile on his lips.
“Just fine,” I said. “She gave a servant the flu this morning and then decided to run barefoot in the snow, but
she behaved after.”
Apollo chuckled, “How are you?”
I startled at the question, he only ever asks after his daughter. “Well, I enjoyed the solstice, I lit a candle for
you.” He inclined his head at that. “How was the solstice for you? Pati told me that you have a full counsel
every solstice.”
He pursed his lips, “It’s just more squabbling about the war. Chaos forbid I bring up the fact that Sparta has
forgone their sacrifices to us for nearly a month now- they don’t want to do anything other than fight each
other. Uncle Hades is in agreement with me, but the only other truly neutral god is Dionysus, and he’s not
paying a lot of attention to this as he’s in India with his new wife.”
“Oh,” I frowned. “And the war hasn’t even truly started.”
“Exactly,” he growled. “I fear that when this war starts they’ll forget to rule and just fall over for their own
petty war, bowing to their heroes’ demands.”
I winced, “And is that why I’m your champion? Because you think I won’t get involved with this ‘petty war’?”
“In part.”
I sighed, watching as Deme shifted to hug Olivia tighter in her sleep. “I am your champion, not your weapon. I
won’t be a tool for you to use against the other gods if it comes down to it.”
“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow. “You demand much from a god.”
“I ask only what I know you can give,” I refuted
“True.” He nods, “And if I don’t want to give it to you?”
“If you do not want to give it to me, then you do not truly want me.”
He smirked, “Well played, princess.”
I smiled back.
He brushed my hair away from my face, and I closed my eyes.

I was asleep seconds after he left.
Penelope is one of the best weavers of the Aegean, and I was so lucky to learn at her knee.
A year ago, I had more knots than thread on my loom, but with her careful tutoring, I was a good weaver. My
first piece of cloth off the loom became a lumpy cloak for Papa, my second became a cape for Pater, my third a
blanket for Mama, fourth and fifth a tapestry.
With the cold of the Delphi winter, I had taken the opportunity to use the golden loom in Apollo’s room,
weaving what was probably the finest wool cloak ever so I could be warm this winter, and now an offering for
Apollo.
It was also an opportunity to teach Olivia how to weave, but I think she might be a bit too young to do it just
yet.
“Gently, gently,” I cautioned her as we laid the fabric out onto the basin, letting the fabric float. “Now I’m
going to gently knot and tie off the fabric, and now we’ll have a cloth to make your father’s chiton from.”
Olivia tilted her head, “And we’re dyeing it first?”
“Yes, we’ll be dyeing it with Saffron and Turmeric to make the cloth yellow-gold, but first we need to tie it
off.” I told her, carefully using my water powers and precise fingers to finish the weave.
“And…” I carefully pulled the fabric up, “Ta-da! We’ve got a cloth!”
Olivia shrieked with delight, “Can I get the dyes now?”
I laughed at her enthusiasm, knowing full well it would taper off as soon as she actually started working the
foul-smelling dyes and ended up staining her arms with the itchy colors. “Go on.”
Dyeing is hard work, and Olivia soon grew tired of it. Deme came to take her place after a while, and between
us we managed to get it done. The sun was sinking under the horizon by the time I hung up the fabrics to dry.
The next morning, I was back at the fabrics again, this time with a bone needle and some embroidery thread.
Small suns dotted the fabric from handpainted dyeing of the night before, and now I stitched arrows into the
hem and put straight white stitches along the collar. The chiton slowly transformed from a bundle of threads to
a finely decorated fabric with my careful attention, something a king could wear to a feast.
It’s a pity nobody would ever wear it.
The chiton is to be an offering for Apollo and would be burnt in his name if he doesn’t claim it after three days;
spring is to start in three days, and the Temple is in a buzz preparing for the return of the god and his
prophecies.
To be honest, I’m actually being rather petty about the chiton. The priestesses had sewn cloaks and blankets,
and others had offers of gold and incense. To sew such an ‘intimate’ thing such as clothing would be something
only a wife or daughter would so, and I am well aware I am neither, but since the priestesses whisper about me
being his mistress, then I’m gonna show them mistress.
Hmph, Penelope would support this. I thought as I lay the finished chiton onto the offering slab on the altar.
Perhaps Apollo would find it funny too.
I didn’t look back at it, not seeing the fabric shimmer and disappear. “Come along Olivia, it’s time for your lyre
lesson.”
“Insane how time passes. A child is now a mother, lovers now buried, singers now silenced. It drives me
crazy growing old, but it blossoms a thousand memories, like a dream.”
With spring came back the busy crowds of travellers seeking the Oracle, and us hiding in Apollo’s rooms more
often than not.
Apollo hadn’t returned to see Olivia since three weeks before spring began, and I was beginning to note his
absence in the past month of spring. The prophecies were flowing, but he hadn’t shown his face.
Well, until I asked Deme for an afternoon off, and let her teach Olivia how to make her own olive oil while I
stayed indoors and played the lyre on the balcony. Trying to recreate Sweater Weather on a lyre is definitely not
something I’d ever thought I’d do, yet it is the most relaxed I’ve been this week.
“What song is that?”
I startled badly, suddenly plucking several wrong notes. “Phoebus Apollon! Don’t startle me like that!”
He stared at me in confusion, “Did you just call me Phoebus Apollon?”
“Mortals say people’s full names when they’re angry or annoyed at them,” I explained, sitting up.
“Oh? And what’s your full name? Or are you only named after my grandmother?” He grinned, sitting down
beside me.
“Raya Amara Lilian Johnson.” I sniffed, giving him an unimpressed look.
“That’s a lot of names.”
“Says you.”
He laughed, “Fair enough. But you didn’t answer my question, what is the song?”
“One I am writing.” I lied, “Patience, or else you will never hear it.”
“I’m not known for my patience,” He said, leaning towards me, a finger coming to trace the hem of my veil.
“Can I hear what you have written so far?”
I gave him a glare, but began plucking the strings. “~And if I may just take your breath away, I don't mind if
there's not much to say, Sometimes the silence guides your mind, So move to a place so far away~”
“Pretty,” he hummed. I could feel his breath against my ear, he’d leant so close to watch me play.
“Yes,” I agreed, moving away from him. “But my song isn’t what you came for, is it?”
“No it isn’t,” He sighed. “It’s time.”
I stood, walking to put the lyre away on its stand, looking away from him. “I think she’s too young for this. I
didn’t start training until I was twelve, Olivia isn’t even half that yet.”
He came up behind me. “You saw her: she infects sickness on others. How long can she go untrained before she
starts a plague? And her power of prophecy… It may be small now but it won’t always be.”
I whirled around, looking up into the blue eyes of the god in front of me. “I don’t want her to get hurt.”
“I know. But we can’t be selfish.” He smiled sadly.
Finally, for once in my life I understood my mother who never wanted me to go to camp, who tried her best to
protect me from the mythical world for as long as possible. I closed my eyes to stop myself from tearing up. I
miss her, I miss her so very much, I wish she was here to help me.
“Raya?”
“I’ll- I’ll pack her bag. We’ll set out tomorrow morning.”
He nodded, “I’ll watch you leave in the sun chariot. I can’t interfere, but I can watch over you.”
I swallowed thickly. My hand was paler than his; I vaguely noted as he brought it up for a gentle kiss.
“All my children mean so very much to me,” He told me. “Take care of her- I’m entrusting much to you.”
“I will. I’ll do everything in my power, I promise.”
He smiled, and he was gone.
“For all that my bones may be immortal, it is my heart that decides when it is time. A simple cardiac
attack, and my skeleton is alone.”
-
Olivia doesn’t remember the last time she left the Temple.
Deme and I have taken her to the gardens, and to the marketplace, but she never truly left Delphi. And now she
is.
“There’s so many trees,” she comments. “Why are there so many trees?”
“They’re the homes of Dryads,” I answered. “And they’re the homes of the birds and animals.”
“Does that mean there’s no Dryads in Delphi?”
I gave Deme a mystified look. How am I supposed to answer that?
Deme smiled, “The Dryads in Delphi are really shy.”
“Oh.”
I mouthed a quick ‘thank you’ to Deme, glad I don’t have to explain that Dryads don’t live in cities to a five
year old. That’s a pout session we can avoid.
“What’s that?”
“That’s a sign: ‘a day’s ride to Delphi.’”
“But we just left Delphi?”
“That’s why the sign isn’t for us.”
“How does the sign know who it’s for?”
“It doesn’t?” I replied baffled. “People know if it’s for them or not.”
“Okay. Can I have an apple?”
Deme smiled indulgently, “We don’t have any apples, but we can buy some in Thebes.”
Olivia frowned at her, “There’s an apple tree just down the road.”
“Then you can have some if the apples are good,” I told her.
All mothers have the patience of saints. Gods, how did my mom deal with me on road trips?
“What is that?”
I turned to tell Olivia about the silence game where you can’t talk or you lose, only to realise Deme said that.
...And Deme was pointing at Harpy, asleep in an apple tree.
Oh for Hades’ sake!
“Harpy,” I hissed and tugged on Riptide hanging on Luke’s necklace, transforming it into a sword. “Take Olivia
and hide.”
Deme quickly followed my instructions, putting a hand over Olivia’s mouth so she couldn’t scream. I started
slinking towards the Harpy, sword up and ready to attack.
Until I stood on a branch. Fuck.
“Scree!” The Harpy screeched, launching herself at me.
I ducked and rolled, slicing at her with Riptide, but barely nicked her.
She tried again, and hit my sword arm, but thankfully the Curse of the Styx worked strong. Her foot she
scratched me with broke.
“Wanna try that again?” I taunted her, smiling.
She did not.
She tried to fly away, clearly deciding I wasn’t worth the trouble, but it’s my first monster in over a year, I’m
not letting it go without a kill. A snarl appeared on my face.
I didn’t know where the water came from- though later I would notice the completely dehydrated circle of grass
around my feet- but it whipped out and pulled the Harpy back towards the earth like a rope around its waist. It
screeched as it fell, and I raised Riptide above my head.
The Harpy stopped screaming.
I huffed in disgust, wiping my sword on my thigh. First monster I see in a year and it doesn’t even get me to
break a sweat.
“Raya?” Deme’s voice broke through the silent forest, high and horrified.
I froze, disgusted by my own thoughts. I don’t fight for sport, I fight to protect.
“It’s okay, Deme, it’s dead.” I called back to my friend.
Deme appeared from behind a tree, Olivia on her hip, wary. “The body?”
“Monsters turn into golden dust,” I said, pointing at the pile of dust and feathers. “It’s best we keep moving-
Harpies like to nest together.”
Deme nodded. “Are you uninjuried?”
I smiled, “I’m just fine,” and touched Riptide’s hilt to the camp necklace.
“Halt! Who goes there?” A soldier shouted, spear in his hand.
The road to Thebes was filled with soldiers watching the roads. The seven gated city was nearly as militaristic
as Sparta, though not as extreme in culture, and the walled city was vigilant at every traveller that approached.
But this soldier has curly light brown hair, sky blue eyes, an upturned nose, and a mischievous smirk.
“I am Raya of Ithaca, Deme of Ithaca, and my daughter Olivia. We are heading to Athens and will be spending
only a night in Thebes.” I quickly explained.
He raised an eyebrow, “No husband?”
I gave him a smile as I lied through my teeth, “He is waiting for us in Athens.”
He looked up and down, clearly taking a note of my answer, then nodded. “You two ladies take this road to the
large oak tree, then follow the left path. The gatekeeper will ask you your names, and make sure to tell him you
are travelling alone and without any trade, he’ll suggest a safe inn for you to stay.”
“Thank you,” we quickly bowed our heads at him, smiling.
“You ladies travel safe.” He nodded, and let us pass.
“He was nice,” Deme commented idly.
After the last time we met a god and she freaked out about me not telling her straight away, so I’m not gonna
comment on the (hopefully) inconsequential visit of Hermes to her. Wonder what he’s doing; checking up on us
for Apollo, maybe?
I smiled and ribbed her, “He was handsome.”
“Raya!” She hissed back, smiling. “I wouldn’t, you know I wouldn’t.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I waved her off. “Now let’s find this oak tree.”
Thebes, once you enter it’s walls, is a bustling city.
Olivia immediately tried to chase a chicken, and I scooped her up so we didn't get yelled at by a vendor. “Oh no
you don’t, missy.” I said to the squirming girl, “Dinner and an Inn, that’s it.”
“Squared Marble Inn, Squared Marble Inn, Square Marble-” Deme muttered as she scanned the buildings for
the name of our suggested inn.
“Pleaseee,” Olivia whined, doing little ‘gimme’ hands at the ground.
“No.” I said sternly, pulling her closer to me. “You can chase chickens once we’re in Athens, not here.”
“-Marble Inn, Square- There!” Deme pointed at a small, tile roof inn with a marble entryway.
“Oh good,” I hitched my bag up higher. “We can ask them if they serve dinner too.”
“Welcome to the Squared Marble Inn, how many I help you two ladies?” A woman said. She had a serving tray
of ale on her hip. “We have two rooms available, but no cribs for the little one.”
“That’s alright, she’s old enough for a bed.” I smiled at the innkeeper, “Just one room for tonight. We’ll be
leaving by noon tomorrow.”
“A silver drachma,” She said decisively. “Two Obol coins for a bath, and an extra two Oboloi for dinner and
breakfast.”
I handed over two silver drachma and smiled at her shocked face, “Keep the change if you keep our travels
quiet.”
“Yes my lady,” she quickly nodded and shouted at a serving girl to take us to our room and bring us dinner.
“Cheap,” Deme muttered.
“We’re not travelling as royal ladies anymore, we’re just two unaccompanied ladies.” I corrected, “Of course
we’re paying cheaper.”
“Still doesn’t mean I can’t be suspicious, can I?” She refuted. “If I miss anything from being a slave is the
anonymity. Could walk right into the slave’s quarters and hear every gossip, secret, and lie the master’s were
telling.”
“As useful as that was, I rather prefer you free.” I chided her, “And I’m the war veteran here, I can fuss plenty
over what I find suspicious myself.”
Deme rolled her eyes, “Then I’m the one to only fuss over your horrible fashion and ability to refuse every
marriage offer that comes near you?”
“I’m not that bad!” I pouted, letting Olivia down on the straw bed. “Remember Diamita? Girl would dress in a
servant’s gown and an undyed veil if her servant’s were less vigilant.”
Deme scoffed, “Diamita’s mother was simple, she was probably a bit simple too.”
I scowled at her words, “Simple or not, she was the best nurse of all the foster girls.”
“Yes, I suppose so.” Deme agreed, “Now, let’s get these travelling clothes off.”
“With a final step I complete my journey, and long for the first step. My legs ache from walking so far, so
long, but the ache is dulled. Familiar. Perhaps now is a time to rest my legs, sit down. Yes. There will be
another journey soon, and another and another.”
The walls of Athens were far less impressive than those of Thebes, yet still quite a sight to see.
Even from the distance, I could see the Acropolis rising in the horizon; the ground where my Pater and Lady
Athena once fought over this city, creating springs and olive trees.
“Halt!” A guardsman and his partner told us, and gestured us to the side so a cart may pass as we spoke.
“Citizen, Guest, or Trader?”
“Guest,” I quickly replied.
These guardsmen, who are clearly not Hermes, looked suspicious. “Where’s your husband, lady?”
“In the city already; Apollodorus of Delphi. He told me that he’ll meet me at the cave of Apollo, on the side of
the Acropolis.”
He frowned down at me, “Have you a place to stay until your husband collects you?”
I smiled sweetly as I lied, “We have enough coin for several nights in an inn, but my foster sister and foster
brother live in Athens now that they’re married and I was intending to briefly be their guest.”
“Hmph,” He looked us up and down. “Your names, including your daughter?”
Deme answered, “Raya of Ithaca, Deme of Delphi, and Olivia of Delphi.”
“Very well, you may enter.” He nodded at us, and waved his arm towards the city gates.
“I hate Athens,” I muttered. “Don’t know why Pater ever wanted this sexist mess.”
“At least we’re here,” Deme smiled, and hooked her arm around mine. “We just have to find the old centaur
and the quest is over.”
I laughed, and entered the city.
DELETED SCENE:
“What does it mean?” Apollo asked, baffled and lost. “What does it mean?!”
“Why are you asking me?” Hermes replied, “I only met her once, and she spent the entire time crying and
panicking.”
“Hermes, Sweet Brother-” “-I’m not sweet-” “She made a chiton for me!”
Hermes raised an eyebrow, “Bit bold, but it’s not like we haven’t had a few who’ve done so.”
“No, she made a chiton for me, she didn’t just sew it! She wove the fabric, dyed it, embroidered it, and sewed
it! And then left it on my offering slab!” Apollo hissed, “She very clearly called me her husband.”
“And you haven’t slept with her?” Hermes frowned. “Beyond bold.”
“No!” Apollo threw his hands up. “She barely lets me kiss her hand, much less get near her bed! But she stole
my goblet right from my hand and drank from it, and she agreed to stay in my rooms without even a polite
protest!”
Hermes looked even more confused than Apollo, “She announces that she’s wife, but she doesn’t even flirt
back?”
“Yeah!” Apollo looked close to confused tears, “I have no idea what she wants from me.”
“Marriage?” Hermes said, “If you’re not already married? Maybe the mortals have a new custom and you
accidentally married her.”
“Ugh! I don’t understand women! Maybe Artemis would know what’s going on?”
“Maybe?” Hermes said, clearly having several other selves searching for the answer. “At least you didn’t accept
it.”
“Uh,” Apollo looked sheepish.
“Oh great, you agreed and announced yourself as the Not-Husband to her Not-Wife.” Hermes let his head fall
on his hands, “Poseidon is going to kill you.”
“It was a very nice chiton and I was very confused at the moment! What was I supposed to do, leave it?”
“Yes!” Hermes groaned, “You leave the marital gift if you're not married!”
Apollo let out a whine and fell down to lay on the couch, “I messed up and I’m confused.”
Hermes paused. “We’re not telling anyone about this.”
Apollo quickly nodded, “Anyone except Artemis.”
“She’s going to yell at you.”

“That’s fair.”
Hermes sighed and stood up, “I’ll go check up on her. You said she is taking your daughter to Athens? She’s on
the road through Thebes then.”
“Thank you,” Apollo sighed.
“She called you her husband and said your daughter is hers too?” A very very confused Hermes appeared back
in Apollo’s temple on Olympus.
“WHAT DOES IT MEAN?!” Apollo screamed into a pillow.
Chapter 10
The city of Athens is nothing to scoff at.
Great gleaming streets with merchants peddling anything from jewels to fabrics, white marble and grey stone
buildings, the great Agora and the Acropolis rising up in the middle of the city. Men and slaves walked through
the streets, crowds expertly weaving around the stands.
Despite the city still being in it’s fledgling stage, not yet the great empire and epicentre of the arts it will
become, you can see the beginnings of it. The reason why two gods fought so ardently for it, and eventually
began a millennia old grudge because of it.
But for goodness sake, can a girl just enter the city without being stared at?
“Why are they looking at us?” Olivia tugged on my sleeve.
I hitched her higher on my hip, “Because we’re beautiful.” I lied, picking up my pace a bit.
Deme stuck close to my side, head bowed. “Where did Lord Apollon tell you Chiron is waiting for us?”
“Apollo’s cave on the side of the Acropolis.” I answered tersely, not looking forward to letting Olivia go. To see
Chiron again. “He’s staying there to hide from all the mortals, and we are to meet him there at sundown.”
Deme glanced quickly up to the sky, “We only have a few short hours until then. I think it’s best that we go
there straight away.”
“Yes,” my hand snuck out to grab hers. “That would be best.”
We were both uncomfortable at the lack of Athenian women on the streets- I’ve only spotted five women since
entering the city, and they were either merchants with their husbands or a heavily veiled lady with a whole
revenue of escorts.
My fingers twitched towards Annabeth’s dagger, sheathed under my skirts and against my thigh. I hate Athens,
but oh, I can just imagine Annabeth’s happy reaction to being here- seeing history happen and able to be in the
beautiful architecture. My heart ached for my best friend.
But then Olivia nearly yanked my veil of my head with her restlessness, and I was back in the moment. I have a
little girl to protect.
We arrived right at the cave just as the rosy fingers of Astraeus began to touch the horizon.
The climb was tiring, but the view over the city was beautiful, and the olive trees and cool wind provided us a
reprieve from the strong spring sun.
We stopped before the cave, my eyes carefully tracking the slight blur in the corner of my eyes. The Mist is
strong here, Chiron must really dislike mortals finding him.
“Raya… I think this is the wrong cave.” Deme frowned, and turned to leave, but my fingers quickly wrapped
around the collar of her chiton and yanked her back.
“Oh no you don’t!” I held her still. “There’s magic around the cave, it’s tricking you. The cave is very much the
right cave.”
Fresh hoof prints, sleeping mats on the floor, pots out and a used firepit. Definitely the right cave.
“Where is he?” I muttered, seeing the tracks lead away from the cave.
“Right here, daughter of Poseidon.”
I am a well trained demigod, a veteran of a war against the Titans themselves: I let out a war cry and drew
Annabeth’s dagger. I absolutely did not shriek and nearly stab a tree and Deme should stop spreading such dirty
lies about me.
Chiron raised an eyebrow, “I would prefer it if you put the blade away, daughter of Poseidon.”
I blushed and tucked it away, Chiron always knows how to make you look like a bumbling toddler compared to
his perfect maturity. <strike> That is, the ‘Maturity’ that led me to seeing him distracting Mr D by kissing him
midway through an argument over poker, making him win.</strike>
“My name is Raya,” I corrected softly. “And this is Olivia Apollide and Deme of Ithaca.”
He looked just like he did in the future, except maybe missing a few gray hairs and wrinkles. My heart panged,
and it took Deme’s hand in mine to stop me from bursting into tears at the sight of someone from home.
Someone who will never be part of home. Gods, I fucking hate Kronos.
He eyed us carefully, then addressed Olivia. “Zethus is gathering mushrooms for the stew, perhaps you can help
me with the cooking?”
Olivia gave a toothy smile and nodded, shyly reaching out to hold his hand. My eyes watered as she stepped
away from me to go to him.
“Thank you for bringing her to me, Raya, Deme.” He nodded to us. “She will be safe in my hands.”
I didn’t answer him, afraid that if I even looked at him I might start crying. Instead, I knelt down before Olivia
and pressed a kiss on her head. “Goodbye little one,” I whispered into her ear as I brought her into one last hug.
She had no idea what was going on, but she hugged me back.
I stood up, and with Deme’s arm around me, I began to make my way down the hill again.
Olivia finally noticed that we were leaving, and whined. “Ray!” She cried out, wriggling in Chiron’s arms.
“Ray! Deme!”
My heart broke at her cries, but I refused to look back at her. If I looked back, my resolve would break.
When we finally reached the bottom of the Acropolis, and Olivia’s cries were only echoes in my ears, I broke
down. I sobbed into Deme’s shoulder.
“Shh,” She hugged me. “She’ll be okay. You’ll be okay. Everything will work out well.”
“I left her!” I clung to Deme like a babe, “She’s just a little girl and I left her!”
It’s always me leaving everyone. Leaving Mom, leaving Annabeth, Thalia, Conner, Nico, Pati, Mama and Papa,
leaving home. I always leave everyone behind.
“Shh,” Deme stroked my hair, wiping my tears away. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay, Raya.”
It isn’t.
“Passing a life by and starting anew is nothing easy. One, of course, cannot start completely anew, as all
lives you have passed will always have a fundamental effect on you, but you can say you have started
anew. And, as Marcus Aurelias said, if you truly believe you are, it will be true. Perhaps. Or perhaps you
will live a lie. Either thought doesn’t lie easily on one's mind, so be careful when starting anew.”
Without Deme, I don’t know how I would have managed.
She dragged not only my weeping self to an inn, managing to get us a room despite the late hour and lack of
male chaperone, but also kept me away from the wine and tucked me into bed. Truly, I am lucky to have her as
a friend.
“Thank you,” I croaked when I woke up the next morning, dehydrated from all my tears.
“There’s nothing to thank me for,” She bustled over and poured out a cup of water. “I’m your friend, this is
what friends do.”
I smiled as I drank. I can always depend on Deme to be there, and gods do I wish to do the same with her when
the day comes and she needs me. “I still think I need to thank you.”
She glared at me, but it was soft. “You’re an idiot.”
I sighed, and got up from the bed, letting my hair fall softly down my back- unveiled and untied. “I know.”
“Raya-” “Deme-”
We both stopped as we spoke at the same time. I smiled and gestured for her to go first.
“Raya,” She seemed to struggle to say the words. “You carry a lot of grief with you. I know that I am lucky that
you’ve spoken of the truth with me- about the future and your promise- but I cannot help but feel you are still
hiding so much. This burden does not need to be just yours, I can help you.”
She was earnest with her kindness, and I could never fault her for that. I had told her about me coming from the
future, but never in detail. Never personal. Never the people I left behind.
“I’ve met Chiron before.” I began. “Look, I never wanted to be a half-blood.”
We spent the whole day talking about before. She was right, it was a burden I needed to share.
Now we just need to know what to do in the future.
I didn’t bother putting my veil on all day, and as the cool air of our second night descended on us, the breeze
felt nice through my unbound hair.
Deme had fallen asleep, today’s long talk exhausted her just as much as me, and she had a lot of new
information to consider. I had too much on my mind to sleep yet.
The room didn’t have a proper balcony, but it did have a floor to ceiling window that extended a bit beyond the
room’s dimensions, with a small iron rail to stop one from just falling out of the room. I sat on the cool rock
floor, my sheer slip pooling on the floor and half hanging off my shoulder, as I stared up at the stars.
I blinked, and I wasn’t staring up at the stars anymore.
Apollo was looking down at where I was now kneeling at his feet, staring at me stunned.
“Hello there, my prince.” I leaned my forehead against the cold rock of the window frame, slow with
exhaustion. To my confusion, he blushed and stepped slightly back so his back hit the rail.
“Lady Raya,” His voice came out a bit strangled as he looked like he was avoiding looking everywhere but me.
Rude.
“I know mortals aren’t as beautiful as the nymphs and goddesses you’re used to, but I would hope I am not so
ugly that you would refuse to look at me.” I said, for some reason upset at his refusal to look at me. I must be
overtired.
His eyes snapped back to mine, “No!” He looked pained, and the blush was still on his face. “I mean- no. You
are one the most beautiful creatures I have ever seen, and you rival the beauty of the fairest of the Olympian
ladies. I never meant you any insult.”
I blushed at that, my mouth moving to say a soft, “Oh.”
He hesitated, then offered me a hand. I took it, and he helped me up from the ground.
He kept his eyes on mine as he spoke. “I simply came to give you thanks for protecting my daughter so well
this past half-year.”
Half a year. So little time, but it felt like forever. I’ll miss Olivia dearly.
“It was my honor,” I said strongly. “Thank you for letting me have the pleasure of doing so.”
I moved forward to ask about what my next task was, when the strap of my slip slid fully off my shoulder and
my collar dipped, exposing my cleavage.
Apollo paused, swallowed, and then carefully pulled the strap back up my shoulder, covering me again.
I blushed when his hands lingered on my shoulder, where his fingers were brushed by my hair.
...My unveiled hair. Oh gods.
I had been kneeling there, at his feet, unveiled with my hair loose, in a bloody sheer slip! And I had the
audacity to complain to him when he politely looked away! ‘Raya, you hussy!’ I chatisted myself, blushing a
bright red and pulling away from him.
Oh gods, if Pater ever hears about this he’ll be furious! ...And Deme, she can never find out about this.
I was so embarrassed at my own unintentional actions, I had completely missed the look of confusion and
disappointment on Apollo’s face.
“I shall be visiting friends in the morning,” I told him. “If you would like to bestow another quest, I will ask
you to wait a few days so I can rest from my journey.”
He nodded, and I noted how he was forcing himself not to look away from my face. “I will. I have no quests for
you right now, but I can offer only a Eastern destination; Delos. It is a sanctuary and nobody will bother you
while you rest there until your next quest.”
My eyes widened slightly at his offer for Deme and I to take rest on his sacred island, but I smiled politely and
thanked him.
He opened his mouth like he was going to say something else, but closed it. He turned away and faced the
balcony, and I knew he was going to flash away.
“Apollo,” I called out softly.
He turned his head, eyes meeting mine. “Yes?”
I didn’t know what I had planned to say, or if I had even thought about saying anything. “Thank you,” I said
instead, pushing all of my gratitude into one smile and two words.
His eyes shined, and for one second he looked just perfect against the backdrop of the night sky.
And then he was gone, and I was alone.
I dropped back against the bed, careful not to wake Deme, and groaned.
Fuck.
“Boldness is a lie the world has told you. To be bold is to be confident, to be honest. Is that not something
we should all be then? Boldness is merely the absence of meekness, and we are not mice. Be bold.”
“I can’t believe you’ve done this,” Deme whispered to me as we walked the halls of the Athenian palace.
“Sofia told me that if I ever wanted to visit her, I could.” I shot back.
Deme glared at me, “I am certain she meant by sending a letter first.”
“I did send a letter this morning.”
“A letter before you arrived in Athens.” Deme hissed, “It’s rude to show up uninvited.”
“She was my foster sister, I think she’s perfectly aware of my habit of appearing out of nowhere.” I sniffed.
“Your habit of ignoring all social etiquette more like,” I heard Deme mutter under her breath, and I went to snap
at her but the serving girl who was leading us stopped.
“Through here my ladies,” She bowed.
“Thank you,” I said gently, and walked through the open door.
Only to get ambushed by Sofia throwing herself in a hug at me.
“Raya!” She squealed. “It’s lovely to see you again!”
I laughed and hugged her back, “You too!”

She hastily stepped back, remembering to have some decorum, and smiled gaily. “Might I introduce you to my
ladies?”
A young girl, barely into her teens, was introduced as Lanike, and Sofia’s new cousin-in-law. She had tight
brown curls, and skin as dark as midnight. She smiled easily, and had a needle and cloth in hand. An older
woman, probably only three or four years than me, was introduced as Maripessa, the wife of General Abasdoro
of Athens. She had the sweet longing on her face, one that gave me the sneaking suspicion that her Husband
was one of the men on the Thousand Ships sailing for Troy.
“Of course, you remember Deme.” I told her, and politely ignored her shocked face at Deme dressing like a
Free Woman.
“Oh yes!” She overcame her surprise and very politely came to grab poor Deme in a hug. “It’s nice to see you
again too, Deme.”
Deme was very much off-kilter, stuttering out some pleasantries that I had to hide my laughter from.
“Oh!” Sofia smiled. “I have someone to introduce you to!”
I raised my eyebrows, and Sofia giggled. “Follow me!”
We did, following her through the maze of halls that was the palace, until we reached a room with a wooden
door frame that was carved with these beautiful depictions of Hera, Hestia, and Artemis.
I shared a confused look with Deme, wondering what this could possibly be about, and followed Sofia into the
room.
Oh.
A beautiful curly haired babe was sitting in a crib, wide awake and cooing for his mother.
Sofia reached into the crib, holding her son delicately and lovingly. “How’s my little prince this morning?” The
little boy gurgled happily.
She looked up at me, “Do you want to hold him?”
I grinned, and carefully took the baby.
“Oh Sofia, he’s lovely,” I breathed, staring at his little cherub features. “What did you name him?”
“Andoros,” She smiled.
“Gift to man?” I translated the name easily. “That’s just perfect. I’m so happy for you!”
“Thank you,” She beamed. “It was a hard pregnancy, especially with all the news of war, but I am so glad to
have him.”
“Leodros must be so proud,” I said.
Sofia took her son back, lowering him into his crib. “He is. All his elder brothers have left for Illium to take
back that Helen, but he decided to stay because of Andoros.”
“Yes I did.”
We all turned around to see Leodros standing at the door, then pull his wife into his arms for a chaste kiss. “I
apologise for intruding, but I was notified that my old debate partner had decided to visit, and I just had to
extend an invitation for dinner.”
“Prince Leodros,” I gave him a small curtsy, which he waved aside and instead pressed a kiss to the back of my
hand. “Princess Raya.”
He had grown since I had seen him. He’ll be turning 20 soon, and he had stubble on his cheeks. He looks far
more like a prince now, strong and straight-backed.
“It’s been too long,” He told me, and then offered his arm. “Might I escort you two lovely ladies to dinner?”
I smiled politely as Sofia giggled, and took his arm. “You may.”
Dinner with Leodros and Sofia was a cheerful thing, with plenty of wine and laughter.
We spoke of serious topics; of the war and how Leodros was coping as suddenly being the second in line for the
kingdom of Athens, how the city was suffering with the loss of all the military aged men, and how they were
vulnerable to attacks. Sweet, shy Leodros’ eyes were as hard as rocks as he talked about the loss of several
farmers and traders to Athens’ economy would mean tightened belts.
“Everything for our men on the battlefield,” Sofia insisted.
Things turned to the kinder things in life; how quickly Andoros was growing, how Sofia had knitted a quilt she
had spun the wool from herself, how Leodros had bested his eldest brother on the sparring grounds using the
tactic I taught him, and how blissful their marriage had been.
“Oh how he cried when he first held his son!” Sofia smiled.
“How could I not cry at such perfection?” Leodros asked, grinning.
I was so happy for them. And, I will not lie, I was jealous. I wish I could have what they have: a home, a
family, love. They were so very happy.
“Our home is open to you,” Leodros insisted to us. “You can stay as long as you wish.”
I gripped his hands in thanks, bowing my head lightly. “We will not abuse your hospitality. A week to
reacquaint ourselves would be wonderful.”
“A week it shall be then,” He agreed.
A week. Let’s see what paths lay before me at the end of this week.
“Friendships are a gift to humanity by the gods. They are heartbreak, betrayal, anger, and pettiness.
They are also support, love, joy, and laughter. Cherish your friends, they are blessed.”
In my defense, it was the right thing to do!
We had left the palace that morning, packs refilled and with new gifts from our friends. I had been on the
lookout for godly signs, but since Apollo hadn’t reappeared again since that day, I guess the plan for Deme and
I to sail to Delos remains.
We were on the docks, looking for someone who might take us to Delos, when a man walked into me, sending
me sprawling to my feet.
“Watch where you’re going, bitch!” He growled at me as Deme helped me back on my feet.
“Oi!” Deme growled protectively, “You should watch where you are going, sir!”
“What did you say to me?” He turned on her, and many men paused to see the commotion going down.
I smiled cooly, “She said you should watch where you are going, sir.”
“Do you know who I am?” He spat at me.
“No.” I said simply, “Because you are beneath my notice. You obviously don’t know who you were just calling
a bitch, so let me enlighten you. I am the Princess Raya of Ithaca, niece of Helen of Sparta and King Menelaus,
and friend to your own Prince Leodros of Athens.”
I watched as the captain turned several different shades of red, then paled when he realised I could have him
killed for his offense. “My-My Princess- I apologise, I didn’t know.”
“No you didn’t, so you shouldn’t have assumed.” I bit back.
“Of course, of course.” He clumsily said, “Perhaps to smooth over this incident, I might offer you a free
sampling of my stock?”
I frowned, “Your stock?”
Then I noticed with horror that he was holding a chain. Slaver.
“Yes my lady, freshly trained slaves from Troy. The first of the prizes of the great war.” He said eagerly.
I wanted to drown him, there and then. The sea shifted uneasily, ships groaning. I had to save them. I have to
set them free. I had to… My eyes shifted to the fully stocked ship, probably full of slaves.
“Is that your ship?” I asked.
He followed my eyes, “Yes Ma’am. I’ve concluded my business here and I am sailing for Megara at dawn.”
A plan started to bloom in my mind. I remember the Sea of Monsters, and the Queen Anne’s Revenge, and the
pirates…
“I have no need for your stock,” I sniffed at the slaver. “My father will bring back much better than such lowly
slaves when he returns from Troy.”
I spun on my heel, stalking off with a snapped “Come Deme.”
“Deme, remember that time I joked about becoming a pirate with you?” I asked my friend innocently.
“Raya, I love you, but what the fuck do you mean by that?” She squinted suspiciously at me.
We had found a restaurant to eat dinner in after an unsuccessful day of trying to find passage to Delos, and we
were huddled in a corner with cheap ale and fish.
“That slaver we met today,” I smiled devilishly. “Do you want to help me commandeer his ship and set all his
slaves free?”
Deme went through a myriad of emotions really quickly- surprise, exasperation, resignation, determination.
“Yes.”
“Perfect!” I smiled, “When we finish here, we sneak on board his ship, throw all his men and him overboard,
then I use my powers to make the ship sail out of Port by itself, and once we are far enough from shore we will
cut all the slaves free and sail for Delos!”
Deme smiled, “And we are going to do all that all by ourselves?”
“Oh yes,” I nodded. “I once exploded a volcano and unleashed the gods’ worst enemy on them by accident- I
have this handled.”
Deme grinned, and I handed her one of my spare daggers. “Aren’t they going to be surprised.” She giggled.
I laughed with her, and I am once again so very thankful she’s by my side.
We stood, careful to pay for our food, and snuck towards the docks.
They’ll never see us coming.

Chapter 11
Sneaking carefully through the docks, it was laughingly easy to climb aboard the slumbering ship.
No security cameras, no police officers, nothing to deter thieves other than the threat of slavery and mutilation
and the two men on watch on deck.
I crouched on the ramp to the ship, and turned to Deme. “I’m going to throw them overboard, you focus on
freeing everyone.”
She nodded, and I walked onto the deck.
“Oi, Lady, wrong ship!” One of them told me, laughing.
“I just gotta… I just gotta…” I giggled, immitading a drunken slur. “Hiya boys.”
The one that spoke before smirked, looking at his bald friend. “Ha, looks like the fun has come to spend one
last night with us.”
Baldy wasn’t so easily convinced. “What are you doing here? Where’s your man?”
I smiled, standing up straight. “Behind you.”
They turned just to get grabbed by whips of water, and they were yanked off the ship screaming.
I turned to Deme, hands on my hips. “See? Easy.”
“You missed one,” She pointed out.
I whirled around just to see a young man dart back under, shouting about being under attack.
“Fucking damn it,” I muttered and readied another few gallons of water, floating it above me. “Go and find the
slaves, I’ll take care of this.”
Ten more men appeared, including the one from this afternoon, and they gaped at the sight of the giant wall of
water.
I smiled thinly at the captain. “You should have watched where you were going.”
They came at me with swords and daggers, and I batted them away with seawater and my own hands. Watching
with glee as they paled with disbelief at my calm invulnerability.
One, two, three overboard. Four, five knocked out. Six, seven, eight gone running. Nine injured and bleeding.
And where is ten?
“Yield, monster!”
A mocking quip about me not being a monster died on my tongue as I realised who was being held hostage by
the captain.
Deme had fear in her eyes as she kept her chin raised high to avoid the blade. The captain held her close to him,
yet he still glared at me with a disgusting intensity.
“Put. Her. Down.” I growled out, and the ocean reacted, a storm beginning to blow in.
“Not until you yield.” He replied a bit shakily. “We have done you no wrong.”
“Haven’t you?” My teeth were on display, and anyone watching would say I was more lioness than human at
that moment. “Every soul you enslave is a wrong.”
His grip on his blade was trembling, eyes wide. “What are you?”
“A godling.” I said mockingly.
He cried out, hands flying up to cradle the wound at the side of his neck. Deme slipped to my side, the knife she
usually kept strapped to her thigh dripping blood.
I didn’t care for his dying breaths, I flung him and all his men off the ship.
I turned to Deme, heart pounding. “Are you okay? Are you-?”
“Yeah, Yeah.” She nodded, her brown eyes boring into mine. “I’m fine.”
I pulled her into a hug, relieved. “Thank gods.”
She pulled away, squeezing my hands. “I’ll finish freeing everyone below, you get this ship sailing- the dock
guards will have noticed the commotion by now.”
I smiled and nodded, turning to return all the water to the Sea and to raise the sails.
We did it.
“Freedom is a right to go where one wishes, and love who one wishes. Unfortunately, humanity isn’t very
free, but we have will. Will and determination for our Free Will.”
We left the port behind far quicker than any ship could ever catch us, and I delighted at the shouts of rage and
lit lanterns coming from the land we left behind.
Between my powers and the easy breeze of the night, we had sailed 3 hours in ten minutes, and I jumped down
from the bow of the ship to go find Deme.
I found her talking to what I’m guessing where the leaders of the newly freed while the others were looking in
awe as the oars of the Trireme rowed themselves.
“Deme!” I said happily, “The ship is so friendly and the Sea seems to like her too; we’re on an easy course to
Aegina where we can claim Sanctuary from Athens.”
Aegina is a well-known Sanctuary island in the Aegean, and it has a long standing dislike of Athens. It’s
currently under the Minoan empire’s rule, so we wouldn’t have any trouble with them. Many of the freed would
find work or a home with them.
“That’s good,” She smiled at me, relieved. “May I introduce you to those we’ve just saved?”
“This is Roshana and the eldest of them all,” She slipped back into Anatolian to say something to the elder, then
turned back to me. “She says that all of them were taken from the coastal village that worked the beachy
harbour of Ilium, and that all the elders and most of the men and babes were killed. Half of them aren’t even
native Trojans, just children of traders that were left behind.” She said this part with disgust.
I nodded and gave Roshana a gentle smile, one that usually had grandmothers pinching my cheeks. Roshana
wasn’t very tall at all, and I stood nearly a foot taller than her. She had inky black hair pulled back into a single
braid, and her russet-brown skin was dotted with liver spots. She nodded back to me, and I noted that we’d be
needing a translator.
“Ekrem,” Deme introduced the next man, who stood two inches taller than me. “Is a Libyan trader and speaks
good Greek.”
The midnight skinned man smiled at me. “Princess, I am grateful for your rescue. Your father is a great god,
and I am sure the stories my people will tell of you will be just.”
I blushed at that, but I could see he wasn’t being flirty, he truly believed it. “Stories will not be needed, merely
the fear in slavers' hearts.” He laughed deeply at that.
Deme smiled as she introduced a woman, “This is Shloka, her son and daughter are on board.”
Shloka was a beauty, probably in her mid to late thirties, with straight black hair and brown eyes, and an even
deeper red-brown skin that was smooth with barely any scars, only calluses. “Thank you,” She said stiffly, her
Greek obviously rusty.
I held her hands in mine. “Freedom is your right.” I don’t think she understood me fully, but she smiled.
The last man she introduced had olive skin and kind eyes with a scruffy beard. “Finally, this is Avraham, he is
from Ilium and can speak Greek.”
I blinked at the name. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard a ‘modern’ name, and isn’t that biblical?
“Avraham? Like the story with the son and the God?” I asked.
The man didn’t flinch. “Yes, he was the Father of Judaism.”
Huh. To be quite honest, I don’t know a lot about Judaism other than when Hanukkah is and I don’t think
Hanukkah is a thing yet, so I just nodded. “Okay. I’m Raya.”
If he was surprised by my handshake, he didn’t show it. I smiled.
“So how long have you all been onboard?” I asked.
Ekrem replied, “About two moons turn. They raided the village in the night, no way of escaping; they
slaughtered all my guards when they tried to raise the alarm.”
I frowned, “And there’s only two dozen of you?”
“Half sold,” Shloka spoke up. “My Husband in Phthia, with my brother.”
My heart sunk. “I’m so sorry.”
She patted my hand, “I can find again. My children safe now.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that. How can she be so optimistic when she’s lost everything but her children?
I can remember my depressed daze of those first few months on Ithaca, and the relapse I had when I got told
that the war has begun.
Ekrem spoke up again. “You said we are going to Aegina; are you planning on getting a new crew there?”
I raised an eyebrow, “You saw me and Deme take over this ship and sail off by ourselves and you’re saying I
need a crew? The daughter of the Sea god?”
Roshana, not understanding a word we’re saying, still huffed in amusement when Ekrem looked sheepish.
“She asked what your plan is,” Deme translated.
“To be completely honest, I don’t have a plan.” I admitted. “Getting you sanctuary in Aegina is my main goal
right now, and I know I have to eventually go to Delos, but I have no plan between then.”
“Will you help others?” Avraham spoke up. “You freed us all with nary a sweat broken- you can help others
too. There’s many ships carrying slaves between Athens and Delos, and you have the power of the sea behind
you.”
I didn’t even think about it. “Yes.” I promised, “I will.”
He smiled and nodded.
I turned my eyes back to the Sea. “Everyone settle in for the night and divide the beds between you, I have a
ship to Captain.”
-
“It’s never too late to dream. Dreams are a wish the heart makes, but dreams are never too late to be
unfulfilled wishes. Wish, Dream, and Achieve.”
With everyone asleep, I was free to wander the deck by myself, softly singing songs in English.
“Oh my father often told me when I was just a lass/ That a sailor’s life is very hard/ The food is always bad~” I
sang, gathering rope into a pile. The slavers were so messy, I’ll have to have a day of just cleaning everything.
A soft glow that wasn’t from the moon appeared behind me, and I quieted, whirling around to see the annoyed
face of Apollo.
“This is not what I meant.” He grumbled. “Why did you steal a ship?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Well, Delos is an island.”
He gave me a completely unimpressed look. “So what was it? Hubris? You wanted a ship all for your own that
came with slaves- is that it?”
“What?” I hissed, “Absolutely not! How dare you-”
“How dare I?” He bit back, and I had to stop myself from flinching away from his gold-glowing eyes. “How
dare you! You could have gotten killed!”
“I have the curse of the Styx, there’s no way they could’ve killed me.” I said steadily, though my ire showed
plain on my face. “And I couldn’t leave all of these innocent people enslaved.” I stressed the word, trying to
make him see sense.
“They’re mortals.” He refuted, angrily. “You’re mortal! They’ll live and die and be utterly inconsequential!
You’ll die!”
His eyes flashed gold again, and all I could see was Kronos. Kronos, in Luke’s body, mocking me for trying
because it’s all useless and worth nothing at all.
I flinched away, fear flashing on my face as I reached for Riptide.
But then the gold was gone, and it was just Apollo standing there, looking horrified.
“Raya, I-” He reached for me, but I stepped away from him.
“No.” I shook my head. “No. You don’t get to come here, yell at me, scare me, and then try to say you didn’t
mean it. You did. You’ve broken my trust. Leave.”
He looked devastated. “Raya, please, I’m sorry.”
“No!” I yelled. “I may be mortal, I may die and be insignificant, but you do not get to scare me like this. Either
come back when you're calm and with a proper apology, or don’t come back at all. I thought you respected and
trusted me, but I see that wasn’t the case. Go.”
He opened his mouth to say something else, but closed it.
I closed my eyes, ignoring how a tear slipped down my cheek as I did so.
A soft glow and he was gone.
“Well, that was dramatic.” A bland voice comments, and I jump nearly a foot into the air, drawing Riptide out
fully.
...And falling into the Sea. Damn it.
Triton looked at me unimpressed. “You are the powerful little sister the entire Sea is talking about?”
I glared at him, pushing my wet hair off my face. “You are the heir to the Sea?”
“What is that supposed to mean?” He scowled.
“Why are you watching my private conversation?” I shot back.
“Private, huh? Does Pater know you’re the Archer’s mistress?” He drawled.
I spluttered, and suddenly remembered exactly how much Triton and I bickered. Shouldn’t have missed him at
all. “I am not!”
“Sure looked like it,” He pointed out. “He seemed awfully concerned for your welfare, and you were standing
very close to him. That looked just like any other dramatic lover’s spat.”
“Oh? And how are you such an expert on this?” I snarked, drying myself off with my powers.
“Pater and Meter.” He said, “Who, by the way, are arguing about you right now.”
I paused. “Oh shoot.”
“Yes.” He plucked a piece of seaweed from my hair. “Meter is angry Pater kept you secret and doesn’t believe
his excuse that he didn’t know about you until two years ago, and Pater is insisting you’ll bring the Sea
powerful alliances. Which, if you are sleeping with Apollon, would be true- though I’d suggest you hurry up
and marry.”
“I am not-” I began angrily, then stopped. “Wait, Pater wants to marry me off for alliances?”
“Yes,” Triton nodded. “Wars need alliances, and supporting the Achaeans isn’t cheap.”
I was seething, and then I actually heard what he said. “The Achaeans? Pater told me that the Sea is neutral.”
Triton frowned. “What? No, we are not. Why would he say that?”
‘Your new ‘Papa’ is on the opposing side to mine. If you are to follow him into war, I shall be neutral, but do
not mistake my mercy, Hyisi.’
Oh that little-!
“A trick,” I hissed out from between clenched teeth. “He told me he wanted to support Troy, but would be
neutral for me. So I would feel indebted to him.” I huffed out an incredulous laugh, “I have no idea why he
thought I wouldn’t find out.”
“You didn’t until I told you,” My brother said.
I gave him a glare, “And I’m heading towards Ilium. I would have found out anyways.”
He sighed, tucking his black hair behind his slightly pointed ear. “You’re more headstrong than Pater.”
“And you aren’t?”
“Unlike you, I take most after my Meter.”
I snorted, “I’m diplomatic like my Meter, but I have Pater’s temper. Doesn’t mix well; I start yelling at gods
while still being respectful.”
He gave me a flat look. “Oh really? I could never have guessed,” He deadpanned, sounding more sarcastic than
I thought should be capable.
In a fit of pettiness, I splashed him. His disbelieving face was worth it.
“I can’t believe you’re my sister.”
I smiled sweetly, “I can’t believe you’re my brother.” I dropped the act after a beat. “And I can’t believe I’m
meeting you.”
I wasn’t, not really. We’ve met a million times before, but he hasn’t met me, and I haven’t met this version of
him.
He softened a bit. “What’s your name? Pater won’t tell me.”
“Raya,” I smiled at him. “After our Memeter.”
He nodded. “Nice to meet you, aidime.”

“Nice to meet you too, aidipa.”
He glanced at my ship. “So you stole that old thing?”
I laughed, “I was mostly aiming for the people inside it, but it’s not that bad of a ship.”
“Sure,” He drawled. “Don’t come crying for my help when it starts sinking.”
“I won’t.”
I thought for a second, then nodded towards it. “Do you wanna come on board? Deme is probably still awake
and she’ll have a heart attack if she met you.”
A glint of mischiefness appeared in his eyes, like that one time we went hippocampi racing through the palace
halls, but he shook his head. “My Naters are going to notice I disappeared soon. I should go.”
I nodded, a bit disappointed. “Yes, sorry.”
He ran his tongue over one of his fangs, one of his nervous quirks. “I can visit again?”
I grinned softly. “I’d like that.”
He nodded. “Aoas, aidime.”
“Aoas, aidipa,” I replied.
He dived back into the waves, leaving me to climb back aboard by myself.
“Trust is sweet, like wine in a crystal glass. But drop the glass? A crack is created, and wine spills. A
crack only gets bigger, so be quick, fill it with gold, and realise that Trust is sweet but spilt it is sour.”
“Uh, Raya?” Deme asked, watching me storm into the Captain’s quarters, still slightly damp with kelp on my
shoulder.
“Not. A. Damn. Word.” I bit back.
Stupid Styx Curse, stupid Apollo, stupid Pater! I’d gotten so angry that instead of gently being dumped back on
deck, I had dumped half the Sea with me.
“No, I am going to say words, because you look like you want to commit a murder, and I think we’ve done
enough crimes for one night.” Deme replied.
“Apollo!” I shouted at her. “He came to me, angry at me for stealing the ship insisting that I could have died
and flashing his godly power everywhere!”
“Okay, and you’re mad.” She surmised.
“Of course I’m mad! He scared me! I looked at him, and for a second I saw Luke and Kronos! I thought we
were becoming friends, but then he tried to enforce his power over me!” I huffed, throwing myself down on a
chair and yanking my sandals off.
“That’s fair, but did you remember he’s a god and used to doing this?”
“Yes! But that doesn’t mean it’s right. So I told him to get the fuck off my ship until he apologises and learns to
respect my choices.”
Deme sighed, but helped me with my hair. “At least he didn’t kill you.”
I resisted the urge to glare at her. “And my Pater isn’t getting any sacrifices or prayers until he apologises too.”
She paused. “Raya, we’re at Sea.”
“I can protect us just fine, but he tried to use me so he’s not being acknowledged.” I waved her off.
“So, is there a god you aren’t mad at tonight?” She asked me.
“Triton,” I said. “My brother is annoying, but he told me a lot of important stuff.”
“You realise that I have absolutely no idea what you’ve been up to on deck and I’m just nodding along with no
context to your ramblings?”
I blinked. “Oops.”
She laughed. “Yeah. Now, let’s get the kelp out of your veil and you should nap. Sleep off all that anger.”
“I love you,” I told her, goofily.
“Love you too, Princess Mood Swings.”
I yelped at that, indignant, but then giggled. At least Deme is beside me.
Chapter 12
Laying on my back, watching the clouds drift by, I felt calm for the first time in a long while.
I will always be grateful for Deme distracting me, but sometimes I really do need to feel my emotions. We were
untouched by the hurricane, my powers capable of that at least, but I exhausted myself. I told everyone that
Deme was in charge, then knocked out, sleeping from midnight to late evening.
Annabeth would have called me a Seaweed Brain for yelling at a god, and then would have listed out a hundred
and one strategies for how to best stage a revolution. Grover would have given me that nervous smile of his,
and a suggestion that maybe my Pater didn’t really mean to lie to me like that. Mom would have given me a
hug and told me that no matter what, she’ll be there for me.
Deme called me an idiot and told me my veil was crooked. I mourn my old family, but I’m not disappointed at
my new one.
The ship wasn’t sailing faster than it would normally be, I had tired myself with that hurricane. Well, not tired,
but I am tired, and if I tried to use the amount of concentration that sailing quickly required, I would lose focus
after five minutes and zone out until Deme pulled me back to the present to tell me that we stopped moving
again.
That’s fine, it gives me plenty of time to just stare at the stars.
Annabeth taught me the constellations, but they’re all wonky right now. Three thousand years have changed
their positions a bit, and I was left to puzzle out where the familiar ones were. Orion, Ursa Major, Cassiopeia; it
was strange to think that they have only been constellations for less than 500 years, but they have. Several
constellations weren’t even in the sky yet; Zoe, Centaurus, and Libra.
In the quiet night, with only the waves crashing, it was easy to identify Deme’s footsteps.
“Aren’t you going to bed?” She asked, wrapping her shawl around her.
“I woke only a few hours ago,” I pointed out.
She didn’t reply to that, only kneeling down on the ground next to me. We sat in silence for a few minutes.
“Do you think we’ll become stories too?” She asked softly.
“What?”
Deme flushed. “Like the stories of the heroes. Herakles and Jason. I want to be spoken of like my grandmother
spoke of Ahurani.”
“The goddess of healing?” I asked. She nodded, “And protector from evil spirits.”
My eyes drifted back up to the sky, where Zoe should be. “Maybe. I don’t think we’ll be forgotten so quickly
after our death.”
“Mother once told me that immortality is never being forgotten,” Deme whispered. “I’m afraid of death.”
Something in my heart panged. Deme isn’t a demigod; she doesn’t have powers or godly blood to help her.
She’ll die, and sooner than I would naturally.
“It’s okay,” I told her. “Death isn’t scary, it’s kind.”
“How do you know?” She asked. “I mean, how are you so certain?”
“Because I lost so many,” I whispered. I reached over to hold her hand, squeezing it gently. “I’ve been there,
the Underworld. It’s not a bad place; you’ll get Elysium, I’m certain of it.”
She squeezed back. “I’ll still fear, I know I will, but that is comforting. Thank you.”
We stayed there, staring at the stars until we stumbled back inside, clutching each other for comfort.
I startled when Avraham approached me.
It’s not like I’ve been avoiding him, I just don’t know how to talk to him. Most of the other slaves I’d freed all
looked at me and saw the daughter of Poseidon, or a water spirit, or even the descendant of a Pharaoh.
Avraham, and two other ex-slaves named Levi and Kelila were Jewish, and I was honestly awkward around
them. I haven’t talked to many monotheists in the past two years, and while I was very aware that the Egyptian
gods were real (meeting Carter Kane proved that), I had no idea about all the other gods, but I could only
assume they’re real too.
“Lady Raya?” He asked, holding up a map. “May we talk?”
“Of course,” I smiled at him, stepping back from the prow. “What is it?”
He handed me the map, “I’ve been looking at possible routes. You said we would be staying in Aegina for
seven days, yes? Well, Kythnos and Naxos are on route. Kythos has some of the best metalsmiths in the Minoan
seas, and Naxos is an Olympian sanctuary too, is it not?”
I nodded, “Yes. They’re close, and Sifnos is a slavery hub with their mines; we might be able to free a ship or
two passing by. Good work.”
He smiled, taking back the map. “My father was a cartographer and navigator before he and my mother settled
in Ilium, he taught me how to guide a ship.”
“It’s a good thing I have you on my ship then!” I said, cheerfully. “I may have perfect bearings at Sea, but I
have no idea where I’m going.”
He laughed. “Yes, I’ll say.”
He tucked the map away into his belt, then ran a hand through his hair. “Actually, my lady, I was wondering if I
could talk to you about your powers.”
Oh dear. “Yes?” I said nervously, “Is there something wrong?”
He realised that I looked defensive, and smiled gently, eyes sparking with kindness. “No, nothing. I was just
wondering if you have the ability to turn seawater into freshwater? I understand that you have no trouble
bathing in the sea, but the rest of us are just using a single barrel of water a week, and I was just wondering if
you could help.”
I flushed, “Sorry! I forgot that- I didn’t realise! I have no idea to be honest, but I can try.”
He laughed. “It’s alright. Just do your best.”
I did manage it, but it also meant we had a barrel full of salt alongside the two barrels of water.
“Well, we have something to trade now,” Ekrem commented. “You will be one rich pirate, Raya.”
Rubbing my temples, trying to stave off the headache from doing something with my powers I’ve never done
before, I sighed. “A salt-trading, slave freeing, pirate princess of the Aegean. Pater would be so proud.”
Deme stifled a laugh. “I’m sure. This’ll be easier next time when you don’t do it already tired. Let’s get you to
bed.”
“Goodbyes are a stage of living, a requirement for us all. We shall all regret it once it is done, but it is
necessary for us to learn to say goodbye, no matter how bad we are at it. Goodbyes be bittersweet, and
may the See You Again ring true.”
Aegina was on the horizon, and the ship buzzed with excitement.
Shloka had grabbed her two children, Sandhya and Raja, and had them running errands all day, trying to get
everyone who was leaving the crew packed and ready. Rashana was directing the younger ones around with her
cane, yelling in anatolian for them to hurry up. Levi was climbing the mast in his excitement, and Deme had
yelled at him no less than four times to get down.
All the while, Avraham, Ekrem, and I just watched the chaos, passing a wineskin between us.
“Everytime we dock, it’ll be like this.” Ekrem commented, “Making landfall is a chaos all of its own.”
“They’re excited, leave them alone,” Avraham said, watching as Raja nearly fell on his face trying to carry a
stack of rope taller than him.
“I would step in and help them,” I took a sip. “But I think Deme is enjoying bossing them all around.”
Ekrem snorted at that. “You can say that again. Deme is half my height yet enjoys staring me down like I
couldn’t snap her in half like a twig.”
Avraham shook his head, “I very much doubt that. Have you seen the dagger she carries with her?”
I smiled proudly. “I taught her that.”
“We can tell,” both men said dryly.
“Oi!” Deme marched over to me. “Raya, why are you just sitting there?”
“I’m sailing the ship,” I pointed out. “And I’m all packed.”
She gave me a look. “Fine,” I groaned, handing Ekrem back his wineskin. “I’ll get it ready.”
They watched me go below deck to grab the gifts for the island as a thank you for sanctuary.
I hate bureaucracy.
We headed straight for the Hearth of Hestia, leaving our offering of a small bowl of salt, and registering our
ship as an official Aegina guest.
I quickly realised that I was out of my depth when Ekrem stepped up to talk to Lord Karinax who welcomed us
into accepting the barrel of salt in return for a dozen ex-slaves asylum. Mama may have taught me how to
poison a king who talks over me in diplomatic treaties, and Papa did teach me how to talk circles around my
enemies in the courtroom, but when it comes to negotiating trades and doing bureaucracy, I realise I’m far too
blunt at this to do it properly.
When Ekrem stepped back, and a servant was being called for to help incorporate the ex-slaves into a new and
better household, he turned to me with a smug grin. “For a princess, you are quite bad at this.”
“Good thing you’re sticking around,” I grinned back at him. “My crew will need a good trader.”
He winked, and stepped up again to help give orders.
Goodbyes are tough.
I will admit that I have a bit of Abandonment Issues, and this makes saying farewell all the tougher, but I was
comforted by the fact that they’ll all be safer now.
Roshana pulled me into a hug, touching foreheads, and she patted my cheek like a loving grandmother would.
“You keep your chin held up high, understood?” Deme translated for her, “You have a good heart, don’t let
anyone spoil it.” I was blinking back tears as I pulled her into another hug.
Shloka pushed her son forward, and I was surprised to see Raja shyly hand me a little pouch of Henna. “As
thank you,” Sandhya said for her mother. “A gift.”
I tried to refuse, but Shloka was adamant. I was touched, and I promised to treasure it.
Levi, scrappy young helion that he is, asked that his goodbye be a kiss on the cheek. Avraham and Shloka both
moved to hit him upside the head as soon as the words were out of his mouth, and he just laughed. In good
humor, I gave him a light peck on the cheek that had Deme screeching about impropriety and then ruffled his
hair.
There were a lot of goodbyes, sixteen of twenty-five had decided to stay on Aegina rather than sail on, and I
was near tears for all of them.
They were happy tears though, and that in itself was a blessing enough.
Maybe I am learning to let people go.
“Sweet friendship, bless me with your love, your kindness, and your mercy. Let us walk together, hand in
hand, until the light dims and dusk turns to darkness. May your golden light stay.”
Aegina is a small island, with only a single city, two major temples, and a lot of white sand beaches.
While Aegina was a trading hub, with many ships sailing in and out constantly, the population of the island was
low, only three hundred permanent residents. Not exactly a good place to find new crew members.
So the newly dubbed ship, ‘The Black Pearl’ (I was having fun, sue me), would soon leave Aegina with a crew
of 11, nine of whom were once it’s slaves.
Ekrem and Avraham had both elected to stay, and I named them second and first mate, respectively. They had
no idea what that meant, and I stumbled over my explanation, having not much idea either other than Captain
Jack Sparrow had them.
Hyrmione, a Greek-Trojan dancer, was the only one younger than me at 17, but she was a deft hand with small
blades. Her older brother, Dolops, was 24 and the only one other than Ekrem with experience sailing.
Nysia was 28, Anatolian, and the best damn cook I’ve ever met, second only to my mom. She has no trouble
smacking my hands with a wooden spoon if I get anywhere near her stew. Kelila, 22 and Jewish, if she was not
found sewing and dyeing wool, was always found beside Nysia, chattering about fashion and hair.
Brison was 19, and he knew Leon before they both got taken from Ilium. Leon was 31, and the guard in charge
of training Brison. They both carried swords, and were capable with spears, so I had no problem asking them to
spar with me.
Lastly we had Ammeris, a sullen man of 27, who was always carrying around papyrus and ink, ready to scribe
down all our possible adventures. He was Egyptian, and wore neat cornrow braids that I was a bit jealous about.
We had restocked the ship pretty easily with the sea salt I harvested easily, and Ekrem leading our negotiations.
All that was left for us to do is finish packing up, but as Avraham and Kelila had asked for a day off as it was
Saturday and Shabbat, I had given everyone the day off.
Some, like Ekrem and Dolops, left to have fun in the town, others like Hyrmione, Nysia, and Brison decided to
spend the day in the marketplace. Last I saw Leon, he had grabbed ale and had been coaxing Ammeris into
telling him what he was writing. Deme and I ate mid-day meal with Avraham and Kelila, then left them to go
explore the city a bit more.
As Deme got distracted by a vender selling face veils, my eyes caught the Temple of Apollo Delphinios down
the pathway. The sun was catching it in just the right way that it seemed to glow gold, like a god was… in
there.
Oh.
I guess he’s finally ready to apologise.
“There’s a horse at the gate, and you must figure out if it is a blessing or a curse. Either requires trust,
and my the gods forgive me for not being shy with it.”
As my sandalled feet climbed the marble steps up into his temple, I wondered what I would find inside.
Not this.
Apollo was laying on the floor of his temple, wearing a familiar yellow-gold chiton that brought a blush onto
my cheeks, with a deer skin peplos I think is his sisters’, and his hair braided in a way that I am certain is
Artemis’ doing as it was the style she favored. He didn’t look at me as I walked in, continuing to stare up at the
ceiling and it’s beautiful depictions of his achievements.
“Hey,” He said.
“Hey.” I replied, tilting my head to the side as I took him in. “Is the floor comfortable?”
The priests and priestesses weren’t around, but I saw the wisp of a chiton whipping around a column, making
me think he had dismissed all of them.
“Not really.”
I sat down on the floor beside him anyways, legs tucking under me in a way that let my short chiton fan out
beside me on the cold stone.
His head tilted to the side, and soon he was looking up into my eyes. “I sorely regret ever causing you any
distress.”
I raised an eyebrow, “Causing me distress? You tried to control me, got angry when I refused, and then gave me
a flashback when you started using your godly power.”
He winced at the reminder, cheek twitching. “I was reminded of the fact that you are mortal, and as a mortal,
you can die and be injured very easily.”
“So you were worried for me?” I translated what he refused to say, and the flicker downwards of eyes
confirmed it. “Apollo, look at me, I have the curse of the styx, even if they tried, it’ll be pretty damn hard for
them to succeed in killing me.”
“Blessing of the styx,” He corrected, trying to change topics away from his vulnerability.
“It’s a curse,” I stated firmly. “And you aren’t changing topics so easily. Apollo, you were worried for me, so
you tried to control me. You don’t do that, would you do that to your sister?”
He flinched plainly, and I sighed. “She also spoke about this with you?”
He looked angry for a second, defensive and golden, then he caught my eyes again and calmed. “I visited her
for a few weeks, I needed her insight.”
“Look,” I forced his attention on me. “I’m angry that you broke my trust when you tried to control and scare
me. You haven’t apologised for that.”
“You demand a lot from gods.” He said.
“Only what you can give,” I said, a defiant tilt to my chin.
His lips twitched upwards. “I apologise for exerting my power over you.”
I couldn’t help the soft smile that graced my features. “I accept your apology.”
His eyes turned to his altar, and he sat up, blonde hair snaking down his back. “You’re still coming to Delos?”
“Never wasn’t going to.”
He laughed in surprise. “So certain I was going to apologise?”
“I know your sister would step in eventually,” I told him. “That peplos suits you, by the way.”
He winked at me, “Don’t tell Artemis I stole it from her.”

He stood up, and offered me his hand. “That offering stone has a lot of good food, want to share?”
I was taken aback for a second, a shared offering is something for married couples, but the earnest look in his
eyes as he tries to win back my trust makes me push propriety aside. “Sure.”
He beamed, truly sunlike.
Something in my heart fluttered, but I pushed it down. ‘It’s just nerves, last time I saw him he hurt me,’ I told
myself. ‘I’m just afraid that he’s going to hurt or betray me again.’
I’m not so sure.
Chapter 13
I stayed the night with Apollo at his temple.
It was an accident; past sundown, it’s hard to judge the passing time, especially with the new moon. Deme had
come looking for me, but as soon as she spotted the god with me, she turned on her heel and left without Apollo
ever noticing she was ever there.
Sharing Apollo’s offerings was so friendly and intimate, it made my stomach do flips, but it felt strangely
natural- no awkwardness between us.
The offerings on the slab were overflowing. A vase of wine was poured out and shared between conversation,
and a plate of figs enjoyed together. Fresh bread and a small sampling of cheese was eaten on the floor, our
casual posture meaning our chitons were dirtied by the ground.
Every once in a while, we would share the food we were eating, feeding it to each other.
“Try this one,” Apollo would offer, and I would take a bite of the offering in his hand.
He asked about my life, and while I had to heavily edit my futuristic childhood, I told him it with a smile. How
I grew up not as a princess, and I only learnt about my father when I turned twelve; how Pater left me in Ithaca
and how I found a home there. I refused to be the only one talking about myself though, and I gently coaxed a
few stories out of him about his childhood with Artemis, and he waxed on and on about how much he loved his
mom and how great she raised him.
Slowly, throughout our talking, I began leaning towards him.
Nights in Greece are cold, and the sun god is warm. Just sitting beside him warmed me, and I didn’t think much
of it.
At one point, Apollo began playing with the jewellery he’d been offered. He put on a pair of golden armbands,
but the rest he continuously draped me with.
“It makes you shine,” He smiled softly as he put another necklace around my neck. “A gift; an offering from
me.” He said, in a way that made me think he wasn’t quite joking.
I laughed, and my entire body jingled from all the jewellery at the movement. “Apollo, it’s too much! It’s rather
pretty but truly, I don’t deserve so many! It’s yours.”
He frowned, “You do deserve it. Jewels that pale in your beauty is the bare minimum of what you deserve.”
That stunned me to silence for a few moments, a blush overtaking my features as I gaped at him.
Unable to formulate an appropriate reply, I instead finished off the wine and loudly asked him about his favorite
place to visit.
Eventually, between the warm conversation and the warm wine, I fell asleep.
I woke up to the cawing of a raven, perched on the offering brazier, staring down at me.
Sitting up, a cloak slipped off my shoulders, and I smiled as I recognised it as Apollo’s. The thinly knitted
woolen cloak was a bright yellow, and it felt like him- like his power.
The jewellery he had piled onto me the night before jangled as I stood up, and while I wanted to return them to
him, I know better than to refuse the gift of a god.
Unlike last night, there were no temple workers to watch me as I left; the sun was barely lightening the sky yet.
With a handful of my skirts in one hand, pulled up to avoid getting any more dirt on the hem, I set off on the
beaten dirt path back towards where The Black Pearl was docked.
Nobody spared me a glance- other than a few greedy traders eyeing my new gold pieces- too busy with their
early morning tasks.
Boarding my ship, I was greeted by Ekrem’s too-bright grin and his cheery “Good morning!”
I raised an eyebrow, “Morning.”
He wasn’t deterred, “Did you sleep well? You look like you had a rough night.”
“Ekrem!” Nysia snapped from where she was carrying breakfast dishes, “Must you?”
He just chuckled. “Deme told us that you were with a god last night, and when you didn’t show up…” He
waggled his eyebrows and gave a cheeky smirk, which vanished as he got smacked over the head with a scarf.
“I most certainly didn’t imply anything!” Deme sniffed, holding the scarf she just ruthlessly used as a whip. She
paused, then squinted at me, “Of course, I would love to hear as to why the girl who was yelling at the god not
two weeks ago was snuggling up to him again. Alone. In his temple. Acting very… wifely.”
I groaned, throwing my head back even as Ekrem laughed. “Nope. I don’t have to take this. I’m going to take a
nap. Goodbye.”
I ignored Deme’s shout of “Is that jewellery from him too?!” as I headed below deck.
“To dance a dance is to invite intimacy; for your partner knows all your movements, knows all your
emotions, the words you sing along to and the beat of your heart.”
We were the only ones to leave Aegina that week.
A hot wind had settled over Greece, making ships have difficulty setting sail, but with my abilities as a
daughter of Poseidon, I was able to make The Black Pearl set off without much of a hitch.
“Such a hot dryness is unusual for this time of year,” Dolops commented. “It’s summer, it should still be
hurricane season.”
I sighed, knowing exactly what it is. “It will pass in another month, until then, most ships will be grounded.”
“How do you know?” Ammeris asked, and I noticed that he had his cuneiform clay tablet on hand.
I gave him a bitter smile, “The gods. It’s been like this for nearly a whole month now in Aulis, and it spreads as
Artemis gets more and more annoyed. Agamemnon has pissed her off, and she won’t let any ship sail towards
Troy until he sacrifices his daughter to her.”
Hyrmione gasped, and ducked back into her brother’s arms. “That’s horrible!”
Deme just snorted, “They’re gods.”
I gave her a look, but it was half-hearted. I may believe the gods can do better, but that doesn’t mean I don’t
know how bad they can be.
My fingers brush the bronze dagger strapped to my thigh. Annabeth’s knife.
I turned my eyes away from the horizon, “Iphigenia will be fine, she will go to Elysium for her sacrifice. Now,
come on, this deck won’t wash itself.”
I handed Dolops a bucket and reached for one myself, ignoring how Deme eyed me.
“A thousand sacrifices do not guarantee miracles, but a thousand sins do guarantee hell.”
-
I was in the middle of instructing Avraham through a sword fighting lesson when Brison came sliding down the
mast of the ship, looking excited.
“There’s another ship on the horizon!” He said excitedly, “Are we going to attack it?”
I sheathed Riptide. “Where? Show me.”
We followed him to where Leon was staring out towards the horizon, hand on his sword. “There,” He pointed
out.
Squinting, I could make out the vague shape of a ship.
“We don’t know if it’s a slaver ship,” Avraham pointed out. “It’s too far away to tell and we shouldn’t attack a
ship for no reason.”
“Of course,” I said. “That’s why I’ll be checking it out. Turn around, boys.”
Before they could question me as to what I meant with that, I started stripping off my outer layer, making them
yelp and quickly avert their eyes, until I was left only in my chiton. I carefully took off my veil and folded it
before jumping overboard.
“Raya?” Avraham shouted askance, “What are you doing?”
“I’ll be back in an hour!” I yelled back, “I’ll just go check out the ship! Tell Deme that I’m gone.”
I ducked under the waves, swimming far faster than humans are capable of.
A few fish stopped and stared at me as I swam past, but I paid them no mind. The ship wasn’t that far away
from ours, and it would be rather easy to direct either of the ships into each other with my powers, but I’d rather
avoid that if it isn’t necessary.
Coming up to the surface next to the ship without being spotted, I swam around it, looking for any clues as to
who was on board.
I stopped, hearing voices drifting down from above.
“Another week to Aegina, sir.” A young voice called, “Do you think we have enough to be protected from
Athens as we pass by?”
A deeper voice snorted, and I heard footsteps approaching. “I think we got enough to buy a whole temple’s
protections from that last loot- Aegina won’t care as long as they get paid and they piss off Athens.”
“Maroula won’t be very happy with us, and they’re Aegina’s allies.” The younger voice pointed out, “We
raided one of their diplomatic trading vessels, this may end badly.”
“You really like making us out to be in between a rock and a hard place, aren’t you?” The deeper voice sighed,
“Look, Glaukos, we’ll stop at Aegina for three nights, and then we leave. There’s no way they could have
gotten any message about the attack, and by the time they realise that we’ve swindled them, we’ll be long gone.
Relax.”
The younger voice, Glaukos, continued to worry, but both men seemed to go below deck and I lost them.
So this is a pirating ship. Steals from the state vessels, tricks others, and makes off with the gold. Great.
I ducked under the waves again, and headed back towards the Black Pearl.
“Raya!” Was the first thing I heard from Deme as I resurfaced.
“I’m fine!” I yelled back, watching as Deme’s annoyed face popped out from over the rail to scowl at me. “Can
you throw down my veil and shawl? I’ve got news.”
She rolled her eyes, but did so.
I boosted myself on board, hissing as Deme immediately moved to smack me upside the head.
“Seriously?” I adjusted my veil from where she knocked it askew. “You’re going to break your hand hitting me
one of these days.”
“You and your veil are a mess,” She sniffed. “Stop jumping overboard.”
I rolled my eyes and turned to where Avraham was patiently waiting for our squabbling to end. “Pirate ship.
They haven’t spotted us yet. They’re heading to Aegina, and they just attacked a Kythnosi trading vessel.”
“Are we going to attack them?” Brison asked, looking a bit too excited. Leon put his hand on his shoulder,
“Slow down there kiddo, they’re pirates. We’re here to stop slaver vessels, not pirates- they don’t leave any
survivors.”
“So we’re doing nothing?” Ekrem spat, “We’re just going to let these pirates continue to attack innocents?”
“We never said that-” Avraham held his hand up, but I cut the brewing argument with a sharp whistle.
“If you all would just listen.” I snapped, having all them turn back to me, wide-eyed. “Thank you. No, we’re
not going to attack them, but we’re also not going to just let them sail on without facing any consequences.”
“Yeah?” Nysia spoke up for the first time, “What do you plan on doing then?”
I smiled. “Dolops, go signal them with the distress flag. Boys, grab your weapons. Hyrmione, you and Nysia
will be staying back and protecting the ship with Ammeris. Kelila, go hide down below. Deme, you’re with
me.”
-
Standing on the deck of the Black Pearl beside Ammeris and Deme, I watched as the pirate ship approached.
I had gotten changed, switching from my more casual chiton and veil to a tight bun with a headband veil and a
short huntress’ chiton. If this went wrong, it’ll be easier to fight in this outfit.
I watched as the Dolops got helped on board by Leon, and all the men disappeared inside the pirate ship.
It’s much harder to make other people walk on water than it is to make myself do so, and I had to keep the
waves steady under their feet so they didn’t get little mountains to climb over. But they had all made it to the
other ship, and soon their sabotage would begin.
“You are insane,” Deme hissed to me.
“Thank gods for that, or else this plan would never work.” I grinned back at her.
The pirates finally got close enough that they could shout over at us. “We saw your distress signal! What’s the
problem, mate?”
Ammeris shouted back clearly yet with distaste in his tone. “Pirates stole most of our food supply! They passed
us by a week ago, and left our ship in disrepair!”
The man who must be their captain shared a look with one of his crew, “Oh? Perhaps we can change your
fortunes a bit. May we board?”
Ammeris gave the signal, and the other ship began to prepare to board, slowly inching closer to us so we were
parallel to each other.
Brison gave a little wave from where he stuck his head out of one of the portholes, and I steadied the water
under it.
The men got in and out without a hitch.
The captain, about to put the board down between our ships, sword clearly on his hip, seemed to finally realise
that something was wrong.
“Oi! Where are all your men? I can only see women!” He yelled, and I smiled.
With a single hand thrust outwards, a giant wave rose between our ships, and I watched as the pirates shouted in
terror, many nearly falling overboard.
Running forward to jump onto the wave, still growing between our ships, I laughed.
“I’m sorry boys, but it seems that you did change our fortunes, and your own.” I taunted, letting a whip of water
rise up from the sea and yank their sail off the mast. “Perhaps next time you’ll think twice about being pirates,
hm?”
“Sea witch!” One man yelled, terrified.
“No, that’s my sister.” I corrected, annoyed. “I’m Princess Raya of Ithaca, daughter of Poseidon, and protector
of innocents at sea. Do spread that message around.”
With a thrust of both my arms outwards, I sent the wave crashing onto their ship, watching as men shouted out
and fell under the water pressure. The ship was pushed away, nearly capsizing under the pressure.
I slowly lowered myself back onto my ship, careful not to let the wave crash onto us too hard.
“Holy shit. You’re scary,” Ekrem said, staring at me. Avraham was muttering a prayer under his breath.
“She’s an idiot,” Deme corrected, coming up to throw the yellow cloak that Apollo left behind for me over my
shoulders. “You’re going to sleep through the day again, aren’t you?”
“You don’t let me have anything,” I whined, but leant on her gratefully.
“We do have something!” Brison corrected, and held up a small chest he was carrying. “We looted the looters!”
I blinked. I sent them in to untie knots and hack at the oars, not steal from them. But I couldn’t help but be
satisfied with that. “What did you find?”
“Silver, mostly. Lead pieces, good pottery, dried herbs. A good 400 silver drachma worth of loot,” Dolops
answered.
Roughly 25 thousand US dollars of loot then. Wait.
“Lead?” I asked, and then sighed when they nodded. “Throw the lead overboard.”
“What?!” Ekrem protested, “It’s lead. Do you understand how much it’s worth?!”
“Yes,” I told him. “I also understand how poisonous it is. Lead poisoning is serious and will kill you far quicker
than you think. Throw it overboard, we’re not having anyone die of any easily preventable deaths. Lead could
kill even me, and you could stab me in the stomach and break your sword.”
Ekrem looked devastated at the loss in profit, but Brison had dropped his chest so quick like it would bite him
as soon as I said it was poisonous.
Avraham just shook his head, “Of course, Raya. I’ll take over now, go rest.”
-
“Even as we run on empty, we work on. Think of the good you bring, the kindness and mercy you are,
the love you can give. Give in not to cruelty, but the hope to make others' lives better.”
Saturdays are the days the entire crew gets time off.
I let go of any power making the ship sail any faster than it should, leaving only the small strain that keeps it
running smoothly. Deme sleeps in and relaxes for once, and when we finally get up at noon, we skip breakfast
in favor of girl talk and having fun.
Nobody does any work other than Nysia, but as she insists that cooking isn’t work, none of us argue with her.
In fact, most of us spent the day on deck, blankets laid down to protect us from the splinter-filled wood, having
a picnic.
I took out my lyre, Avraham joined with his flute, and Hyrmione danced.
Then, at night, we would have dinner together, sharing stories and anecdotes of our lives.
“-And then,” Deme said, face flushed from wine, “Queen Penelope comes into the room, looks at the both of
us, and asks ‘Why is my foster son stuck on the roof?’”
We all started laughing at the image of Deme and I’s antics on Ithaca, and how we terrorised the boys.
“Heirax had it coming!” I defended loudly, starting another chorus of chuckles. “I kicked his ass in sparring,
and he asked if it was because all my sweat was helping me win!”
“Gross,” Brison said, “But does it?”
“Sweat isn’t seawater, even if it is salty water,” Leon told him dryly.
“I don’t know,” I shrugged, “Should I try it out on you?”
He yelped out a “No!” so quickly it sent us all back into laughter.
“Well,” Kelila said, raising her winebowl. “I think we should make a toast!”
“Oh?” Ekrem said, pouring himself more wine. “I’m always down for more drinking.”
“Alcoholic,” I elbowed him. “Go ahead Kelila.”
She smiled, and made eye-contact with Dolops. “I just think we should give toast to all of us. We found each
other despite all the odds, and I thank God everyday he blessed us with our friendship.”
Nysia and Deme let out an aww, and many of the men laughed, clapping each other in friendship. I was quite
focused on the way Kelila and Dolops were eyeing each other, and it looked like young love was blooming on
board.
“To us!” I echoed her, and raised a toast in delight.
“To us!” We drank together.
Chapter 14
It’s his cawing that wakes her up, the rough sounds making her blink sleep away and sit up.
He had left his cape draped over his young wife, warming her as he watched from his perch. She had slept
peacefully through the night, only twitching twice with what appeared to be the beginnings of nightmares that
he had easily soothed away.
After a few seconds of waking up and searching for him, she’d stood up and left the temple, wrapping his cape
tightly around her. He spread his wings and took off.
Watching carefully to make sure she’s safe on her way back to her ship from above, once he saw her getting
greeted by her crew, he flapped his wings harder, flying straight up, towards Olympus.
It was strange for him, having a wife, it’s something he’d never managed to have, Eros’ petty interference
stopping every love he ever had from staying. However, this young demigoddess somehow married him- in
some sort of ritual that he still has no idea what it is (his current theory is when he saved her life by catching
her before she fell down that hill)- and threw his entire worldview upside down.
He’d once vowed to never marry, though he’d attempted to break that vow several times, but that fact still
didn’t stop him from not having any idea how he should act as a husband. Most of his reference came from his
father and Hera, but even then he recognised that while they were happily married, they also had their
problems.
He understood that he had to protect and provide for her, but nobody had told him what to do when his wife
didn’t want him to do that. She yelled at him when he tried to stop her from doing dangerous stunts, and he had
to ask Artemis to explain exactly what he did wrong (he begrudgingly accepted he was maybe a bit too
controlling there, but he still thinks she shouldn’t be putting her life in danger over a bunch of mortals), and
then when he tried to share his wealth with her and she tried to refuse confused him, though she did accept
them after a little bit of coaxing.
That’s something he’ll have to ask his sister. She’s much better at romancing women than him, unfortunately,
though he’ll never admit that to her.
Coming up to Olympus, he spread his inky black feathers and glided down, straight through his window and
into his temple.
Landing on the table, he transformed into his humanoid form, golden and youthful.
“So how did it go?” Artemis asked from where she was lounging on his bear skin rug. “Did she accept your
apology?”
“Of course she did- it’s me after all!” He smirked, stealing the goblet from her hand, ignoring her cry of
annoyance.
“Sure,” The sarcasm was thick on Hermes’ tongue as he rested his elbows on the table. “Did you actually listen
to everything she said, or did you give a general apology and let her assume the rest?”
“I’m sorry, who invented that tactic?” He shot back pointedly at his trickster brother. “Oh that’s right, you did
because you are too petty to ever apologise properly.”
He raised a single eyebrow, and Apollo sighed. “The latter, but she’s too smart and pointed it out that I was
avoiding saying anything directly, and made me do it properly.”
Artemis laughed, stealing her nectar back from his hand. “I like her. You said she’s going to Delos? I’m
definitely going to meet her there.”
“Do not scare my wife away,” He glared at her. “And don’t go telling her stories about me either!”
“Of course I won’t,” She lied, and then winked at Hermes right in front of him.
Hermes hid his snicker by stealing the goblet, ignoring Artemis’ whining about then getting their own nectar.
“Are we sure she’s your wife? I still don’t understand how you got married.”
“Don’t a few mortals consider saving the other’s life a marriage pact? I caught her from tumbling down a cliff,”
He pointed out.
Artemis snatched her goblet from Hermes, draining it so they couldn’t steal it again. “True, but you’re
forgetting the fact that you haven’t slept with her. Mortals and Immortals agree; a marriage is only complete
once you share your marriage bed.”
“She’s shy,” He weakly defended his wife. “She’s probably just scared or something.”
“Yeah, scared to get married fully without her father’s permission,” Hermes said. “Which, how’s it been going
with buttering Poseidon up?”
He wrinkled his nose, leaning back to rest his back on the table. “We’ve bonded on the fact that we both don’t
like Troy. He’s confused as to why I’m talking to him- thinks it’s about the war, he definitely doesn’t know
what Raya has been up to, nor the fact that I’ve been with her.”
“Oh, so her father doesn’t know. Perfect.” Artemis snarked, “I’m all for girls breaking out of the control of
men, but if the man is the most volatile god in the pantheon, maybe we should, you know, tell him?”
“And end up with me skewered on his trident? I think not.” He argued.

“Hey!” Hermes said, stopping the brewing argument. “Maybe we should convince her to tell him? Artemis,
you’re right, but that will also probably end up with another war. Apollo, continue to charm him and then we’ll
throw Raya at him and let her explain. He likes his children, play on that.”
“This is why you’re my favorite brother,” Apollo told him with a smile.
Artemis rolled her eyes, “No, it’s because you sleep with him.”
Both men squawked in protest, pretending as if their illicit affairs wasn’t an open secret.
“Yeah, yeah.” She waved them off, “Now, can you please tell me where your cloak went? And stop stealing my
peplos, brat!”
“And so we will travel far…”
Deme was nervous about the future.
For all of the confident demeanor she puts on around others, she was in reality a rather anxious person. Her
entire life she has relied on the good will of others- of her master’s, the king and queen of Ithaca- but now she
doesn’t have to anymore.
Deme was a free woman, her fate in her hands and the gods’.
And Raya’s.
Raya set Deme free, and for that she was eternally grateful. From the first moment they met, Raya has always
treated her with kindness, and in the few moments she’d lashed out, she’d immediately apologised, treating her
like an equal. Deme was Raya’s closest friend, in a way that Deme could barely comprehend, so rare it was to
see before she’d met Raya, and for that she would follow her to the ends of the earth.
If she worries exactly what the end of the earth entails, then there’s no need to bother Raya with that. Her heart
aches everytime her friend thinks she will abandon her, so she’s promised herself she would do her best from
ever leaving her permanently.
Until then, she’ll fuss and hover and annoy. Make sure her friend is alright, and maybe open her fucking eyes to
the god that is obviously in love with her.
Honestly, after what she walked in on (and isn’t she glad that they still had their clothes on), Deme was ready to
shake her friend and yell at her. Lord Apollo was giving her bedroom eyes, and Raya was still chatting about
how they’re such good friends. Idiot.
But still, her idiot.

She needs to pray to Astarte that those two work it out soon, not to mention her offerings to Eros, Ishara, and
Aserdus. Hopefully if she catches enough love and fertility gods’ attention to the problem, they’ll help out.
Deme likes matchmaking just as much as the next girl, but Raya’s vehement objection to ever being with any
man, ever, is just strange to her and drives her batty. Even if they prefer the same gender like Deme does,
people still get married and have kids, and simply have their lovers on the side. Raya refuses even that. Even
the god she is head over heels for, and who reciprocates, she won’t entertain a thought for a relationship.
Maybe if she set up a trap with a nice private dinner-
“Deme?”
Blinking, the girl turned around to stare up at the gentle first mate who was looking at her in concern. “I’ve
been trying to grab your attention for a while now, are you alright?”
“Just thinking,” She smiled up at him. “What’s wrong?”
Avraham frowned, “The dry air is gone, like Raya predicted.”
“Oh.” She hadn’t even realised, but Raya had the sail down instead of just using the oars. “Poor Iphigenia.”
He shook his head, “A god should never ask human sacrifice, to kill a daughter- despicable.”
“No they shouldn’t, yet they do and we act.” She said bitterly, before noticing the absolute disgust the man had
spoken with. “Do you have a history with…?”
“Not personally, no. Do you know the story of my namesake?” He asked.
“No,” She replied with curiosity, “Though Raya does. Can you tell me?”
“Sure, kid,” He patted her head as if she was a five year old and not recently turned fifteen.
She sat on a barrel as he told her the tale in that soothing voice of his.
“...Over mountains and rivers…”
As Penelope stared out at the dining hall, she couldn’t help but notice every empty space.
Just one year ago this hall was bursting at the seams: full of laughing and shrieking teenagers, boasting soldiers,
meek servers, and gossiping ladies.
She would sit beside Odysseus, watching carefully as their foster children became more and more rowdy
around food and drink until either an older, responsible one reigned their group in or an adult stepped in to tell
them off.
Raya in particular liked to start eating beside Penelope until she heard something of interest at the lower tables,
then she would disappear into the chaos. Occasionally, a particularly loud shout would come from the
youngsters, and she would always find Raya right in the centre, oblivious to how everyone would naturally
gravitate towards her. Smiling so brightly as she laughed, a few times her eyes would raise to seek out hers or
Odysseus’, looking for their approval.
But there were no circles of excited children anymore.
It began with Raya, leaving to seek the Oracle in a desperate attempt to avoid war, and Melas and his cousin,
Kyros- both faithfully leaving to go support their family as war approached on the kingdoms of the Aegean.
Suddenly, despite it still being early spring, all the children were called away in droves; girls being married off
in rushed contracts, boys being shipped off to a war they were too young for, and lord and ladies called home to
support their kings.
Penelope was left with a newborn and a husband desperate to escape the mess he started all those years ago by
having men swear oaths to her cousin, Helen.
Oh, Helen.
Penelope had never been fond of her cousin, always jealous and fighting pettily with the girl who all the men
longed for and left no suitors for Clytemnestra and her. Especially with her powers, the way Helen reflected
everything anyone ever saw when they looked at her, the way she could look the perfect angel to Aunt Ledo
and a sweet wife to Menelaus and a petty brat to her even when all three saw the same interaction, Penelope
never stood a chance in knowing her cousin enough to like her.
But this? Castor was the one to send the letter to her, detailing how Helen had been stolen by Paris just like she
had been stolen all those years ago by Theseus, but this time it was so much worse. Not only did Odysseus have
to play the madman to escape a war by Helen’s mistake, but every other woman of the Aegean had to lose their
husbands too.
Her husband got taken away, as if he’s Helen’s husband instead.
Just like Raya said, Odysseus’ plan didn’t work, and she was left alone, with a newborn, governing over an
empty Ithaca.
A little hand slapping her face, babbling not-quite-words at her with a beaming smile, and the emptiness in her
abated just a little.
Bouncing Telemachus on hip, she smiled down at her son.
She shouldn’t dwell on the bad, she must focus on raising her son to be the best prince he can be.
Standing, she left the hall.
“...To the dark crevices of our world…”
Melas felt sick to his stomach.
Kyros didn’t seem to be taking it much better, leaning on the ship’s rail, eyes closed and pale.
“They killed her,” Melas whispered to his cousin. “She had no idea, Odysseus tricked her, and they killed her.
We started a war with the death of an innocent.”
“Mel, please.” Kyros whined, burying his face in his hands. “I can’t.”
Neither of them could. Seventeen years old, and sailing off to war. They’ve never seen real bloodshed- never
killed a man. They were unprepared for the reality of what was to happen. The horrors they will see before they
die.
They missed Ithaca, the gentle comfort of childhood they didn’t appreciate enough until it was too late. Left
reeling as the last of their innocence has been brutally ripped away from them.
“What are you thinking about?” Melas asked his cousin after a long few minutes of silence. The wind was
blowing through their hair, that stifling dryness to it gone, but the sickly scent of copper seemed to follow them.
“If Raya was here, she would have stopped it.” Kyros replied, still refusing to open his eyes. “Probably would
have offered herself up instead, or talked to her Pater about it. Hells, she would have made the ships sail herself
with her powers.”
“But she’s not here.” Melas bit out, “She escaped this war; don’t you dare be selfish enough to wish her to be
here.”
Kyros finally opened his eyes, staring mournfully at him with big doe eyes. “Is it selfish to wish innocents
saved?”
The older boy had no answer for him.
“Melas! Kyros!” A voice called out, snapping them to attention. “Don’t just perch like a bird on the rails- do
you want to fall overboard? Come here and help your fathers with their numbers.”
“Yes grandfather!” Both boys replied obediently to King Nestor.
They let the topic go uncontinued.
-
“...All in the hopes that I will see you again…”
Odysseus has never been a fool.
As Athena herself has dubbed him, he is a warrior of the mind, and his tricks are his main weapon.
When he came to find Achilles for the war, he had to admit he wasn’t all that surprised by his dress-up trick,
especially once they sat down afterwards to talk about it. The boy with him- the boy he was obviously madly in
love with- reminded Odysseus of Raya and her compassion even while her anger burned bright. He thinks that
Raya would love Patroclus, and she would probably start a fist fight with Achilles after one conversation.
Maybe that’s what made him look at those boys like they were another pair of his foster sons, maybe it was the
fact they let him wax poetics about Penelope without complaining like Diomedes does.
Either way, that’s what led him to be standing beside them that day as they approached the shores of Illium,
watching Achilles throw spears, one after the other, each landing a killing blow.
As they approach the shore though, Odysseus grows very aware how while every man is itching to attack- to
kill- not a single one approaches the edge of the ship, too afraid of the consequences of doing so. They’ve all
heard about how an Oracle said that the first man to land on the shores of Troy would be the first to be killed,
and not a single man will take that chance.
Odysseus wanted to growl in annoyance: cowards, the lot of them. But he was quick, he believed that he was
far smarter than any man here.
So he took his shield, his sword, a prayer to Athena, and jumped off the ship with a battle cry.
Instead of landing on the white sand below him, he landed on his shield, thankful for the strange wind that
helped steady him as he wobbled.
The trick did it’s job, because Protesilaus was landing behind him a second after, and running up towards the
shore.
He didn’t make it very far, a spear suddenly pinning him to the ground through the stomach, but he did get the
rest of the men moving, the fear that they’d be the first to die dismissed.
Soon, the air was filled with battle cries and the grunts of men dying.
After the battle, Odysseus will pay his respects to Athena- thank her for her help.
Then, as he sets his tent for the night, he would turn his thoughts to his family; his Penelope, and how Raya and
Telemachus are coping without him.
He doesn’t know whether to pray that the war ends quickly so he can go home to his family, or for a long and
glorious war where his name will be immortalised as one of the greatest heroes of all of the Aegean.
So, he doesn’t. He just plans for the campaign that will happen the next day, and hopes for both.
“...Where I will finally swallow my pride, and let you say goodbye.”
My eyes briefly flickered away from the landmass on the horizon to the cawing of a raven flying oveRayad.
Hair whipping around my face, I kept my focus on my target.
For all that Delos is now anchored to the earth, it’s still a mythical island and a home of an immortal. The ship
seemed confused, the gentle tugging at my gut getting more insistent, like how Olivia would pull on my ear as
she whined that she was tired.
Standing on the bow of the Black Pearl, I gently coaxed the ship past a valley that seemed to glow with godly
power and towards the nearest mortal port.
My crew is mortal, and so they couldn’t stay nor visit the godly side of Delos, I have to go there myself.
The persistent raven cawed again, and to my surprise, landed beside me on the ship’s railing.
It was a rather large bird, as big as a small child, and with the boldness of a creature that knows how big it is.
It’s black feathers shimmered with iridescent shades when the sun caught them, like they were covered in oil,
and I believe that if it wasn’t for those bright rays, it would’ve been like staring into a void.
“Well aren’t you a beauty?” I muttered, reverting back into my native English. It cocked it’s head to the side,
like it was trying to figure out what my words meant. “Are you one of Apollo’s?”
It definitely recognised his name, cawing, and hopped forward towards the fingers I held outstretched.
Scratching around its head, I smiled at the content sounds it emitted.
Switching back to Greek, which the raven seemed to understand, I mused out loud to my animal companion as I
maneuvered the ship.
“Apollo keeps you well-fed, hm? Hopefully he’ll extend that same kindness to me when I find him. I’m craving
that herbed goat cheese we ate together back in Aegina, that was delicious.” I said over the waves crashing
against the ship’s prow. “I’ve missed him. He’s a good talking partner… and I’ll admit, a good partner in
general, if only he would stop being so bossy.”
The raven fluffed up it’s feathers, both preening and annoyed at something or other.
“We’ve got a lot to catch up on, actually.” I continued, eyes automatically searching out a free docking space.
“My birthday is coming up, my 18th birthday- it would be the year I reach complete adulthood at home now-
and I want to spend it here on Delos. I still have to ask him if it’s okay, this is his home after all, but I do hope
he’ll say yes.”
The raven gave another crooning purr, then startled, flying off with no warning.
“Raya?” Deme’s voice reached me, “How close are we?”
“One hour until we’re docked,” I told her. “Does Avraham have everyone ready?”
She came to stand beside me, black hair pulled back into a single braid over her shoulder, and green chiton tied
low on her hips. “Yes, he does.”
I squinted at her, confused. “That’s not your chiton.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“Whose chiton is that?” I asked, mind reeling.
“Whose cloak and jewelry is that?” She shot back.
I paused. “Fair enough.”
She snorted, defensiveness falling away. “I just borrowed Hyrmione’s spare chiton because Brison tripped and
let mine get dirty while moving our things for docking. Relax, Raya, I’m not crawling into any beds that I
shouldn’t be.”
I blushed, “You’re three years younger than me, I have to look out for you there. Shut up.”
She laughed, and gave me a hug. “Sure. I’ll go make sure Brison hasn’t fallen overboard while nobody was
looking.”
I didn’t watch her walk away, knowing that she’ll be just fine onboard. Instead, my eyes caught the strange
raven’s shape again, observing how it faded into the distance.
I returned to steering the ship.

Sing O Muse (Rework)

Uploaded by

Copyright:

Available Formats

You might also like

Sing O Muse (Rework)

Uploaded by

Document Information

Original Description:

Copyright

Available Formats

Share this document

Share or Embed Document

Sharing Options

Did you find this document useful?

Is this content inappropriate?

Copyright:

Available Formats

Sing O Muse (Rework)

Uploaded by

Copyright:

Available Formats

Act One:

And I will swallow my pride (In hopes of a final

“My father.” I answered numbly. “He pushed me aside.”

My head snapped towards him.

“My Lady? Your name?”

“Raya,” I managed to answer through my shock. “Raya Johnson.”

He blinked. “Johnson? I have never heard of such a name before.”

I quickly stood too, “Thank you, King Odysseus.

With a trembling hand, I took it.

I slipped out from under the water.

“Well said,” came a stranger’s voice.

I forced myself to relax and my heart to stop beating so quickly.

I sighed. That’s not very nice to know.

“How old are you my dear?” She asked casually.

“Sixteen,” I swallowed a lump in my throat.

“Oh!” Penelope stared at me, surprised.

“It’s a warm night, I must have dried quickly,” I muttered, confused.

I didn’t have to answer as she was already braiding it.

I smiled at that, “I am certain you will.”

“I’ll try,” I told her.

I gave her a shaky smile, “Goodnight Penelope.”

She left me alone in the room.

“Raya! I am glad you made it.”

“They are perfect, thank you.” I replied sincerely.

I nodded, feeling a bit awkward.

I shook my head, blushing.

He gave me a reassuring nod. “Of course, princess.”

The day seemed to crawl by slowly.

I spent the afternoon learning to weave with them in Penelope’s solar.

“-and you, Raya?”

That snapped me out of my concentrated thoughts.

“Hm?” I hummed, wondering what she asked.

Penelope nodded sympathetically, “We understand. Do you wish for a husband?”

They all gave me pitying looks.

I tried to keep smiling anyways.

How long I just stood there, trembling, I don’t know.

“I can do it myself,” I ground out.

“I said that I can do it!” I screamed at her, “Leave me alone!”

She ran from the room.

I sighed, putting my head in my hands.

I laughed, high and slightly hysterical.

The sand between my toes was familiar.

The man sitting next to me even more so.

The figure of Hermes turned to face me and I froze.

What is that supposed to mean?

My face was wet.

There were tears on my face. I’ve been crying in my sleep.

A timid call came from the doorway, “Princess?”

“Come in,” I said softly.

She was surprised, mouth dropping open into a small ‘o’.

“Pardon? You’re used to this? Are you mistreated?” I frowned, concerned.

“I- Thank you Princess.” She ducked her head.

“Where are you from?” I asked softly.

My mind blanked. “You’re a slave?”

She gaped, hope in her eyes.

She gave me a small, shy, smile.

One thing that was on my mind is Luke’s armour. Where is it?

When I asked, Iida nervously looked over to Deme for help.