(11,000 years ago)

Ireneus, a strong, composed demon was not one to panic, nor to give in to the urge to cry. But some things could not be ignored.

The sobs coming from his new akra, for one. They were heart wrenching, they tugged at his heart until a single tear fell from his own eye. What could that man have possibly done that made him so important, so dear to her that she'd drop all dignity and cry in front of all the gods on Olympus? She was a proud woman; though he did not know much about her, he did know that,. So why had she crushed all her pride for one man? He was atractive, yes, but he didn't believe that had anything to do with it.

Damatra fought off the hands of her mother and brothers, the chastising of the others. He longed to help her, but she'd ordered him to stay put until she called out to him. All he could do was watch her. Her golden blond curls fell to her shoulder blades when her hair was down but today all but a few strands were tied back with a white silk ribbon, her favorite, so he could see the tears that ran down her agonized face. She looked like she was in physical pain. Being bound to her, he knew what the pain was. Her heart.

The heart he'd been told had stood strong through too much, was breaking. Crumbling into piece as she saw the man Irenus now knew she loved lying in his own blood.

Finally, she called out to him. "Ireneus. Please, get me home. There's nothing left for me here."

He never saw that white ribbon again.

Jurnal of Damatra Agape of Atlantis

Part One

(Written one month after the 'Death' of Acheron Parthenopeaus)

When I first met Acheron I did not know of the heartbreak he would bring me. Or the joy. All I saw was a boy three years my senior being treated as I had been only the year before.

You see, my father, Heron of Atlantis, had been gone most of my life, lost at sea, then helping out in the peace meetings between the Greeks and Atlantians. Then he'd returned to find my aunt selling my body to her friends, for money and amusement. I hadn't seen her since that night. But now, at the age of 13, I was being treated better. And my father had gone to see Estes, taking me on my first trip. I'd been wondering around and bumped into Acheron. Later I learned that love slaves were trained to read in the faces of others what was wanted of them, so something in my eyes must have told him I was not a costumer.

I don't know what it was that drew me to him; as a child I'd learned good looking people could be the cruelest, so that wasn't it. Maybe it was the way he didn't look in my eyes. Maybe it was the way the chain on his arm dug cruelly into his arm. Either way, I caught my father alone later that day and explained.

"Papa, I know we can't take in all of them. Or even most of them." I'd replied to his comment. "I've seen others of the kind, I've never felt the need to help them. Just him Papa, I'll never ask for another! I just want to help."

So it was that, on the day we left, I ran to Acheron's room, clothing in hand, and knocked. "Um, hello?"

The door swung open slowly, revealing a still nude Acheron. He gazed at me uncertainly, confused. Probably he wondered why I was here if I didn't plan on using him. But I smiled and told him to get dressed, he would understand soon.

The carriage ride home was a bit akward for him, He was silent and wouldn't look me in the eye. Yet. But I was in the best mood of my life and father drew his happiness from that. He really was trying to make up for the last twelve years. It wasn't until the next day, on the boat ride to the island I lived on, that he spoke.

Rubbing his wrist where the chain had once been, he looked up once. My father was elsewhere.

"I don't quite understand, My Lady."

"I know you don't. A year ago, I wouldn't have either." I pulled up my sleeves to show him the scars my own arm, I'd explained my fathers absence to him a long while ago. "My aunt was a cruel woman. It's been a year since Papa returned, but I'm still learning to be normal again. To look people in the eye and be proud of who I am. I don't know you, or who you are, Acheron, but I know you deserve your pride."

"I'm a whore My lady."

"So was I. My point is, we aren't anymore. You'll be a part of the family at my home, and I don't ever want you to feel otherwise. And please quit calling me 'my lady'. My name is Damatra, but my friends call me Agape."

"Isn't that Greek, my lady?"

I nodded, "It means love. I've been told my mother was an important Greek woman, but thats about it. She named me. And please, call me Agape."

It was nearly six months before he could comfortably call my Agape. But I got him to do it, and eat at the table. I was making progress. And by the time I was 16, and he 19, we were the best of friends. He was looking me in the eye, calling me Agape, and talking to me about everything, including his childhood. When he told me his family thought he was a monster I'd snorted.

"Acho," I laughed, using the affectionate form of his name as I had for two years, "There's nothing mosterus about you, you're too sweet to be anything but a wonderful friend."

We'd laughed, then he'd chased me around a bit.

"Look mommy!" the voice of a servants child drew our attention, "They act like you and Daddy!"

My gods, was it that obvious? Did every one know? Did he know. Oh dear.

The mother of the little boy came up to me as said boy ran to hug Acheron. "My Lady, you have a visitor. A lady named Ryssa."

I nodded. "I sent for her. Tell Acheron to join my in half an hour would you?"

Ryssa and I didn't see eye to eye at the start. Her first words to me were a demand to know why I was keeping Acheron as a slave.

"I don't care who you are, your highness, you need to do your research. We took Acho so that he would be treated right. It was only recently that I figured out that the tails he told me about you being ashamed of him were from Estes alone. I called you because he is your brother and you would want to know."

She seemed to be calmed by my objections and we quickly agreed that sending him home with her would not work. Her father would go mad. When Acheron came in, and I explained, they got right to talking and the look on his face brightened with every passing second. It was then, standing in the doorway about to leave them, that a pain started in my chest. I wasn't sure how I knew, but I did. Someday, Acheron would leave me to be with Ryssa. The realization hurt me. But I knew he'd be happy. That was the only thing that mattered. I would move on. I would be fine.

It was only a year later when that time came. And then the letters stopped coming.

'Can you believe it?' I wanted to write, ' my mother is Aphrodite!'

But it was no use. Either he wasn't getting my letters, or he didn't care. I favored the first. I only hoped he was okay. Last I'd heard, he had a nephew. But Ryssa had written me once and told me he was being treated horribly by his father. He didn't want to worry me. My mother came to me one day, sad.

"My priesious Agape." she murmered, "I have bad news."

Acheron, my Acheron, was to be executed the following day. Of course I was hysterical. My mother told me that all she could do was take me to see him. But she warned me.

"Your cousin Artemis was unkind. He doesn't remember you. I've tried to regain his memories but I couldn't."

So up to Olympus we went. Acheron was in chains, kneeling on the floor. Again he wasn't looking anyone in the eye. It didn't take a genius to realize that he 'remembered' only the beatings of his uncle and none of his days with me. Then something surprised me. They asked for objections. I knew the Objection law on Olympus, it was common knowledge after all. It took one god to object, one to second the motion, and three to confirm it. Five people.

"I object." my uncle Hades shouted.

"I second it." Poseidon yelled.

"I object as well!" Athena confirmed.

Two people away, Acheron was two people away from freedom. But when I looked to my mother and her son Eros, they were silent. It hit me then. I was all alone. My father had died a week ago, and now my mother and one of my brothers had betrayed me.

I dropped to my knees now and cried. Cried for the man I loved, for my father, and for the pain my other brother Priapus and Archon, king of the gods, had inflicted earlier this day. Finally I called to my new friend, the only one I had left.

"Irenus..."

Much of the rest is a blur. I don't think I was completely sane until now. And now that I am, I swear on all that is, I will not stop until Acheron is happy. Under the threats of Tarterus and the barren plains of Kalosis, I will not waver. Because that is what you do for the people you love.