The moon shone brightly off of the water. It was calm, with only the soft, twinkling sound of the oars flowing through the water. The god stars pierced the darkness, the mighty huntress moon reflecting out if the deep, black crystal water. Our boat swiftly flew across the surface, making good time for the shore. I stood on the bow of the trireme, bathing in the soft breeze of the night.
"Alexandra, what are you doing up here?" Callisti whispered as she joined me, beholding the devout image over the bow. Her long, dark brown hair tied behind her, her pale servant's dress flowing in the unhindered wind. "You'll catch your death up here."
"The cold doesn't bother me."
Callisti played with one of my free locks of hair and watched the moon. "Artemis must wish us home safely."
I didn't answer. I just listened to the waves lapping against the hull, searching the water for any divergence in the unblemished surface. Forlornly, the seamless picture was shattered by a figure bobbing along in the waves. At first thought, I believed it was a weed or rock, maybe a broken splinter of wood, but Callisti noticed its anomalous shape as well.
"What's that?" she asked.
The trireme was approaching it quickly. The figure submerged fleetingly, returning to the surface seconds later. I stretched over the bow for a closer look. The silhouette was oblong, boughs floating to the side, a mass of tresses pulsing along with the rhythmic waves.
"Someone's in the water," I said, stunned. "Fetch Kleitos."
Callisti bobbed her head and ran down the trireme, shouting below deck. Rowers watched as she hustled by, nevertheless, they kept their rhythm perfectly. The man, now discernible as a young man, was meters from the ship. He seemed to be unconscious, or at least too weak to move.
Callisti's cries were met with speed. Sailors and slaves rushed to the starboard side with ropes and hooks in order to catch the castaway.
A slave, whose name was Eucleides, dove into the water, swimming over to the man and wrapping his arms around him. The slave tugged on the rope and was slowly hulled back to the ship. A hundred hands reached for the pair, grappling with the limp figure until they could carefully lower the young man to the deck.
"Get back to work!" Kleitos ordered, smacking a nearby rower. "Give the boy room."
It was true, I saw. The man was younger than I had thought. He looked to be around my age, sixteen or seventeen. I knelt beside him and brushed his black hair from his eyes. His hand flew to my wrist, his eyes snapping open. They were a vibrant green, like the sea during its cycle.
"Sh," I yanked my wrist from his enervated grip. "What's your name?"
His eyes flailed around him like he couldn't focus on one point. Finally, they settled on me and the other faces overlooking him. He had to swallow a few times before he could answer.
"Percy—Percy Jackson," he finally croaked. He let his head loll to the deck, coughing wetly. He turned to his side and heaved long, racketing breaths. His clothes, sodding wet and torn, were foreign, like his accent. A vibrant orange with strange carvings on the front, covered his torso while a separate, longer cloth wrapped around his entire legs. Maybe some form of monk clothing from a foreign land, I inferred.
"Where am I?" he asked once he had regained his breath.
"Off the coast of Piraeus. We should reach the port by midday." Kleitos answered gruffly, his way of speaking softly. The old ship master was tough but compassionate once one took the time to know him.
Confusion played across Percy's features, but he hid them as soon as they flickered by.
"What happened, son?"
"Don't know," Percy hesitated. He coughed again so I asked Callisti to fetch an ampulla. She returned quickly, the two handled flask unscrewed. I took it and placed it against Percy's lips, letting the dark liquid to flow down his parched throat. "Thanks," he murmured.
"Come on, boy. The healer is below. Callisti, take him down stairs and find a bunk for him to rest after he is tended to." But even as Kleitos spoke, Percy's eyes rolled back into his skull, causing the old master-in-arms to heft the boy onto his shoulders and carry him down himself.
I followed closely behind. Something about the boy felt familiar, a flicker of sentience that I could not place.
The healer inspected the young exile, rubbing oils and ointments on the skin, burning sage and rosemary, and chanting. I fell asleep to the healer's musical voice calling to the gods of healing and life.
The crew was wide awake and hustling when I joined them on the main deck. The Νίκη, being one of the largest ships in the fleet, had three decks: the bottom was the sleeping quarters, the second for the majority of the oars, and the top for the captain's deck and a few navigation oars.
Callisti was standing in the shade of the captain's deck, a small hut with room for war preparations or councils. She waited behind the table covered with fruits and drinks, her hands crossed in front of her, her head respectively bowed. A man with greying, traditional black hair and a full beard held his hands behind his back as his training had taught him. A dagger clipped at his belt, his armor perfectly aligned, Kleitos looked like the hand of the king. Sitting with a plate full of food, the boy with a mass of black hair picked at his food. He was dressed in a white tunic and sandals, an improvement from his previous, strange attire.
"I am glad to see you're alive, Percy Jackson." I said as I sat down opposite from him. He smiled shyly and nodded.
"Me too." He paused and glanced at me indirectly, "You know my name?"
"Yes. You incoherently whispered it when we enquired to your title; although, I'm not completely sure you understood what we were asking of you. You seemed puzzled by our language."
Percy, seemingly at a loss for words, grinned sheepishly and muttered, "I was just tired."
I bobbed my head in acknowledgment. "I am Alexandra."
"I was told you're the one to thank for saving me," Percy said while fidgeting with his water vessel.
"Well, I had need of a new slave, and you are pleasant to look at. It was an obvious decision to spare your life," I said with all seriousness. Percy's face fell as he gaped at me, shifting farther away from Kleitos and the guards. I held a straight face for a few seconds then laughed. "Relax, Percy. I am merely joking."
He laughed but nervously and cautiously, like we were to clap irons on him that second. Too early for jokes apparently. I searched for a change of subject, choosing something that seemed simple, "Tell me, Percy, where are you from?"
"I don't remember," he replied bleakly. His face clouding with misery and a sense of deep loss.
"He claims he remembers nothing save for his name," Kleitos grumbled disbelievingly.
"And my Mom. And Paul. And—my—Dad." Percy rubbed his head harshly and groaned. "It's like at the tip of my tongue. Something trying to break through but isn't strong enough."
"Who's Paul?"
"Blofis. He married my mom." The answer came naturally enough, but the answers vanished as soon as they came. Percy let out a frustrated growl and knocked his plate away.
Kleitos simply rolled his eyes and motioned for me to join him off of the captain's deck. I sighed but rose from my place and joined him, knowing full well how he felt about our new guest. Kleitos kept walking to the prow and breathed in the salty air before stating his mind:
"I don't trust 'im."
"I see that. Do you have a reason or just had an epiphany of his malevolence?"
The commander settled a scathing frown on me before continuing, "He has no memory. He appears in the middle of the wine-dark sea at midnight? That is no coincidence." He clenched his hands on the railing and stared at the passing coast.
"I believe the gods sent him."
Kleitos turned back to me, "Is that your belief or..."
"Intuition. He seems normal enough and poses no threat. He could barely speak last night let alone slay us in our sleep. Do not scorn Poseidon by abandoning someone lost at sea."
Kleitos's eyes flashed with anger, but it subsided as soon as it came. He respected the gods more than most of our time, the gods slowly falling out of favor with the suffering people. Mostly only those of the old century still feared and worshipped the harrowing gods.
"Prepare for landing, my Lady." He stalked away and barked orders to his captain, who in turn ordered the rowers to change direction and pace. An eerie drum played over the echoing sea, bang-bang—bang. It had an off-beat so that they angled the trireme into the upcoming port. A cliff-side city opened into the bay, white buildings lined the coast. Fishing boats and their fisherman watched wide-eyed at our incoming warship.
Wooden docks flooded with merchants and vendors trying to sell their belongings and tickets, pack mules and donkeys brayed along with the shouting men. The Νίκη pulled into the harbor and was tied off by various slaves. Almost immediately, our belongings and soldiers and shipments were taken off board. Callisti smiled excitedly at the thought of returning home. She gave me an enthusiastic tug towards the docks and draped a thin silver cloth over my shoulders, pulling it over my head, covering my dress and wealth. Percy wandered over, curiously watching the on goings of the market. I gave him a reassuring smile and offered my arm.
"Come then, Percy. We have a party at the other end of the city."
"You want me to come with you?"
"I don't see why not. We did save your life. Pity to have it stolen by a robber in the alleys," I smirked.
Percy chuckled and accepted my offer, walking beside me and down the creaking ramp leaning on the ship.
As glorious as the city appeared from far out, closer it was piteously disheartening; beggars lined the streets, calling out for relief. Men and children shoved past every citizen without a second glance. Percy watched the uncaring with disgust, but the ghost of a smile lit up his face as he saw two boys running through the crowd. Lighter brown hair and similar looks, they worked well together, bumping past multiple rich, flamboyant merchants and pausing a few feet away. They emptied their tunics full of bracelets, necklaces, and drachmas and smiled over the successful run.
"They better not get caught," I said quietly.
"What? What do you mean?" He grinned, acting obliviously.
"If they are caught, they'll lose a hand each."
Percy started. "A hand? Each? Isn't that a little extreme?"
I motioned towards the beggars. "The people believe the gods are too cruel. They challenge the laws, the king." I spoke bitterly, the cruel punishments that do not fit the crime.
He looked back at the brothers, who were making another run towards the farther end of the dock. "They look familiar," he mumbled so quietly I barely registered that he had said.
I hurried away from the scene and through the crowds, eager to return home from the long voyage.
Callisti and Percy were right behind me when we found the welcoming party. An entourage of fifty royal guards and advisors with horses and tents ready for the slow journey back to the capital. They scrutinized the newcomer but, after a quick word from Kleitos, allowed Percy to pass unhindered.
"Gods, it's like they're protecting royalty," he muttered.
I contemplated him for a moment but shook my head. He would learn soon enough.
Instead, I adoringly greeted my horse, which was saddled and ready. Corax, a black stallion whinnied in greeting and nudged my shoulder. I instructed Callisti to find a horse for Percy, who was jumping back and forth to avoid being trampled by the camp guards. He seemed in higher spirits than earlier, especially when they brought him his horse, a speckled brown black mare. He cupped its muzzle and leaned his forehead to its head, whispering affectionately to it. He mounted without a saddle and a hand always in connection with the mare's neck.
"Ready?" He asked brightly.
The journey was long and arduous, the sentries and soldiers carefully redirecting any travelers we happened to come across. For the most part, the apathetic militaries stayed silent, occasionally sharing inside jokes and words with each other. Callisti had wondered off to speak with her fellow servants, leaving me to speak with Percy alone.
He spent much of the ride in his own mind, frequently bent over to pet his horse's neck. But, about halfway through the midday meal, he began asking questions about back home.
"So, I've noticed—uh—" he stuttered.
I gave him an encouraging smile but hoped he wasn't about to ask what I thought.
"The gods."
I let go of my breath and frowned slightly. I hadn't expected him to ask of them so I nodded for him to continue.
"People seem a little—hesitant to call on them. I thought that back then the gods ruled every aspect of life?"
"They did. But times have become…stressed. People suffer and fall from grace much more often than before. The citizens blame the gods, and the kings have become more powerful. They believe themselves to be close to gods. After all, the gods are closely resembled to ourselves, are they not?"
Percy nodded half-heartedly, stabbing the earth with his sleek cylinder. His emerald eyes were so full of pain and anguish as he tried to remember his past. Even relaxed at the afternoon meal and warming in the archer sun, he probably was still as alert as a soldier at the cusp of a battle. For one so young, he looked as strong a warrior as Kleitos.
The old battle-master came before me, nodding to the sky, "We are to head out as soon as we break camp. We should arrive by night fall."
With one sidelong glance at Percy, Kleitos marched away to deal with the upending of camp.
"Is he always that happy?" Percy asked after we had continued on our journey to the capitol.
"Who? Kleitos? Oh, he is not so bad once you get to know him. He is really a lovable pup on the inside."
Percy snorted, smothering his laughter when Kleitos straightened in his saddle.
"In fact," I continued, fully aware of frustration rolling off of the commander, "he used to tell me the same joke every day when I was younger. Do you wish to hear it? Wishing to teach his donkey not to eat, a scholar did not offer him any food. When the donkey died of hunger, he said 'I've had a great loss. Just when he had learned not to eat, he died.'"
Percy made a strangled sound, somewhere between a laugh and an incredulous snort. I had to laugh, if not at the mirthless joke but at the green-eyed youth's expression. A few of the surrounding officers chuckled silently, but quickly reverted to their professional, expressionless poses when Kleitos's quiet voice made its way to where we were:
"I only told you that story, so that you would cease asking me of the wars."
He nudged his horse into a light canter, setting a new pace for the retinue.
By nightfall we reached Athens. The city was almost barren from life, most unlike Piraeus. Only a few soldiers wandered from lit brazier to brazier and greeted our party with a salute.
Percy was in awe at the architecture. Turning his head back and forth to see every building, he kept muttering something about the buttresses and archways and columns, and saying, "Annabeth was right."
But he was even more confused when we didn't stop at an inn or any other mansions but went straight to the palace. We climbed the everlasting stairs and reached the grandiose royal home. Columns and arches lined the white marble building, statues and guards surrounded the acropolis. Little temples stood at the corners of the platform, a more incongruous temple perched along the cliff. A bell rang from one of the high turrets, signaling our arrival as a man in splendid clothes walked hurriedly towards our group. Embroidered tunics and capes and golden sandals, the man made an effort to appear sober, but he was off-balanced and awkwardly smiling. He stuck his hand out to Kleitos, who kissed one of the man's many rings. It was not looked upon lightly, the kissing or asking to bow to a king. People were only expected to bow to a god, but King Achas believed himself to be a god, along with his wife Kassandra.
"Kleitos, good to see you, man! I warned you of eating those Loti Berries, but you've gone and ate them anyways!" The king laughed, jovially poking his general in the stomach.
"My king," Kleitos said respectfully.
"Maybe some training will help put you back in shape," Achas laughed, slapping the shoulders of Kleitos then moving on to greet me. I looked him straight in the eyes and gave no respectful bow. "Alexandra, the moon cannot attest to your beauty, my daughter."
"Daughter?!" Percy exclaimed, his mouth gaped with surprise. Achas turned to Percy as if just noticing him like the inept king he is. Percy acknowledged the attention and shut his mouth.
"Who is this?"
"This, Basileus Achas, is Percy Jackson. He was a castaway off the coast of Piraeus." I said delicately. I knew how to manipulate the king into my view points in certain areas. "I believed the gods wished him to be saved by our voyage."
The king held Percy in his gaze for a moment then gave a full-hearted smile. "Well then, Percy, you are welcome to stay in my humble palace. I insist." My father clapped his hands, and servants rushed to his sides. "Take Percy to the west wing. You all must be hungry from your long journey! A feast!" he called. The servants rushed away, towing Percy behind them to his new room. He glanced back at me, but I encouraged him to go, shooing him with my hands. But as soon as he was gone, I briskly turned on my heels and walked straight to the corner of the acropolis.
"Alexandra, where are you going?"
I didn't turn around, but called back, "To consort with the gods."
My temple was as it was before I left. The brazier was lit as it always was, and the marble was clean from any dust and blemish. The twelve statues remained still on their precipices, regal and imperial. Before Zeus the Storm-Gatherer was a chalice filled with a crimson liquid.
I moved through memory, dipping my fingers into the wine and casting the droplets onto the base of the white marble. I whispered and closed my eyes and waited until a cool breeze ruffled my hair and travel-weary dress.
"It has been a long time, Alexandra."
I re-did this chapter, slowly reworking all of my fanfics...
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