Written for the Last Ship Sailing Competition
Pairing: Barty/Regulus
Prompts: 1. AU: gods/goddesses!AU, 2. word: delicate, 3. word: fresh, 5. dialogue: "I don't understand.", 7. color: turquoise
Bonus Prompts: 1. emotion: jealous, 2. word: useless, 3. object: bouquet, 4. color: white, 5. dialogue: "That tickles!"
Words: 4098

Thank you to Rachel for betaing!

Very much inspired by the Zeus/Ganymede myth. Also, there are some POV changes in here, from Barty to Regulus (mentioning this to avoid confusion), but I think they're pretty obvious.

Enjoy! :)

Regulus threw himself backwards onto the cloud he was sitting on. Landing with a thump, he ran his hands over his face and through his hair. His brother, had he been there, would have laughed. But, Regulus sighed, his brother wasn't there. No, Sirius was partying down in the Underworld, and if Regulus wanted any support, he would have to ask for it.

Regulus sent a quick owl to Minerva, telling her where he was going and how long he would be gone for, before taking his staff and Apparating off Mount Olympus.

Seconds later found him next to the River Styx, waiting for Hagrid. Just as he finished smoothing down his tunic, the man appeared.

Well, he didn't appear so much as row his boat to Regulus's side; and he wasn't strictly a man.

The half-giant smiled amicably at Regulus and patted the seat in the boat, which Regulus took. As soon as he was seated, the boat started moving and Hagrid started telling him about the playmate he had found for Cerberus.

"Thanks, Hagrid." Regulus got onto solid land and handed the ferryman a Galleon.

"Yer welcome, Boss." Hagrid smiled again and disappeared into the mist.

Regulus rolled his eyes at the nickname—despite, or perhaps because, of hating the modification of his name, he had plenty of nicknames—but proceeded into the Underworld without stopping. He passed by Cerberus and the large door with no problem, and soon found himself facing the throne.

It had once been a black, wooden chair, hard and uncomfortable; now, it was an armchair, almost a loveseat, with purple and turquoise trim. James, god of the dead and the Underworld, lounged upon it, a goblet of wine in one hand, his beloved tucked into the other. Loud music played from somewhere and souls danced their way around the chamber.

Regulus raised an eyebrow and waited for someone to notice him. Surely it wouldn't take long. After all, he was king of the gods.

Sure enough, a voice soon cried, "Reggie!" and he found himself with an armful of elder brother.

"Get off me," Regulus muttered.

Now, all the souls had noticed him, and had slunk away, fearing his wrath. But Regulus simply walked over to James, Sirius in tow, and conjured up a sofa.

"Oh, hello, Regulus," Lily, James's wife, said easily.

"Hi, Lily," he replied courteously, then let out an 'oof' when Sirius dropped down onto the sofa next to him. Regulus waited for the music to completely stop before addressing the room at large. "I've got a problem."

"You've more than one problem, Reggie," Sirius snickered.

"It's a love problem."

Sirius abruptly stopped laughing at the declaration. "That's—"

"Wonderful!" Lily beamed. "What's their name? Where do they live? Ooh, when are you getting married? I can—"

"I said problem." Regulus crossed his arms and huffed. "I know you guys are useless at everything else, but your love stories are epics! I… I need some help."

"Well—"

"And please don't spin anything about how that's not true," Regulus quickly interrupted. "James, you pursued Lily for seven years, just trying to free her from her sister. And Lily… you never gave up hope in that—in him."

"The rescuing was only for a year," Lily pointed out. "It was mostly stalking before that."

James stared at her. "You do love me, though, right?"

"Yes, I love you n—"

"That's beside the point. And you, Sirius. You gave up your status as king of the gods, as well as your immortality, to be with the person you love. Which, I want to add, stuck me with the title. And you're both dead now! And you're still together!" Regulus rolled his eyes as Sirius exchanged a love-struck look with his lover. "That's what I'm talking about!"

"So you're in love and you want our help?" James summarized after a moment.

"Yes."

"So, who is it?" Lily leaned forward. "Anyone we know? Or have you gone the way of your brother and fallen for a mortal?"

Regulus said nothing.

"You have!"

"That's perfect!"

"You can't abdicate! There's no one to take your place!"

"Have you spoken to them?"

"Oh, who is it?"

"Are they pretty?"

"Are they nice?"

"How often do you hang out?"

Regulus closed his eyes to block out the overlapping voices. This—this—was why coming to his brother had been a last resort (he hadn't any other options in the first place, however). Sirius and his friends were more interested in the gossip—and what gossip it was: Regulus in love at last!

He didn't have the best reputation with lovers, he would be the first to admit that. But he'd never before said he was in love, so—

"He's in love!" this exclamation was that of Remus, Sirius's lover. "This is the real thing!"

"You mean…"

"He'll settle down?"

"No."

"Yes."

"It's so cute!"

And so on, and so on, and so on, and so on… "I can smite you all!" he yelled at last. "Now help me, or I'm leaving. I'm not here to be mocked, I really need the help. Please."

"Reggie, of course we'll help you." Sirius clapped him on the shoulder. "Let us have a laugh, you know? There's not much news when you're surrounded with dead people all the time, and you don't visit enough."

"We're just excited," James pitched in.

"And curious," Lily added.

"And we'll help you." Remus finished, sternly looking at James and Sirius, who were still

giggling.

.oOo.

The last time Regulus had courted someone, he had done so without help. The woman was now on the opposite side of the world and the less said about that, the better.

The time before that, Regulus had tried to woo two different women at once. One of them had been a goddess, the other a mortal, and the latter had ended up being turned into a cow in a fit of jealous rage. Thankfully, that had been about a century ago.

Thus, Regulus had a horrible record, had been alone for the better part of a hundred years, and had no idea how to go about a successful courtship.

That was where James, Lily, Remus, and an overly-excited Sirius came in.

Despite being all-powerful, Regulus had no control over the dead; James did, and was the only one who could bring souls up from the Underworld to Olympus.

Once the foursome arrived in Regulus's chambers, he showed them to the sofa. As they got comfortable, he owled Minerva that he had returned but would be very displeased if he had to be disturbed.

With that done, Regulus joined his guests. "So, I haven't actually been down in about ten years, but I like to watch."

Sirius quickly spouted some lewd comments, at which Regulus rolled his eyes. Then, he waved his hand at one of the outside chamber walls. It disappeared to display the clear sky, with the clouds at foot-level. Regulus gestured to his friends to follow, and they walked across the clouds.

"I saw him from here the first time, a few weeks ago" Regulus said, pointing to a hole in the clouds. They arranged themselves to look down. "Look! There he is!"

.oOo.

Barty hummed to himself as he navigated the Greek countryside alongside his father's sheep. He carried a small bag in one hand, a flute and water gourd inside of it. In his other, he held a shepherd's staff. A belt made of sturdy rope cinched his short tunic into his waist. A pouch for coins hung at his belt, but was completely empty. Still, there was no one in the mountains to pay, so he wasn't bothered.

A breeze billowed past him, sending his hair flying, and Barty looked up. He brushed his unruly shoulder-length hair back with a smile and continued walking, stumbling slightly on the uneven ground before regaining his balance.

"Wait!" he called to the sheep then, realizing how far ahead they'd gotten.

They didn't, being just as temperamental as their owner, but allowed Barty the courtesy of being several meters away.

When they got to a clearing, soon after, Barty leaned against a boulder, and, before the sheep could wander off, said, "Come back when I call. Father's the one that feeds and houses you, and I'm the one getting you back to him."

With that warning, the sheep left Barty to his own devices, going off to graze.

.oOo.

James looked up to meet Regulus's face, his eyes wide. "That's…"

"A sheepherder!" Lily exclaimed.

"A boy!" Remus added.

"Him?" Sirius raised an eyebrow.

James frowned. "Not what I was going to say. Reggie, that's the most beautiful mortal in the world. And I don't mean that casually. He's literally the most beautiful person in the world."

"So d'you think I should carry him up here as an eagle?" Regulus wondered. "You know, like courting. 'Cause I did the rain thing with—"

"No."

Regulus stared at the unanimous protest. "But—"

"No."

"I don't understand…"

"Are you trying to woo the boy or do you want a prostitute?" Lily exclaimed. "Because if you just want some sex, then you can find plenty of volunteers."

"She's right." James nodded. "You can't just whip him up here, not if you want him for real."

"So, what do I—"

Sirius grinned. "You go down there and meet him."

.oOo.

Barty slouched against the giant boulder. It was covered in moss, therefore soft, and had a bench-like ledge. It was on this ledge that Barty always rested on, his staff next to him and his flute, more often than not, at his lips. He blew a quiet melody into the wooden instrument.

He looked up at the sky when a flock of birds flew past. They did not return the sentiment and were soon out of sight, oblivious to Barty's thoughts, let alone to his existence.

Please take me with you.

Barty blew a sorrowful note. Then another. And another. And another, until his mournful tune

played through the hills and valleys.

So on he played, only stopping for breath and to make sure that his sheep were still there, until a voice called out, "Is anyone there?"

Barty stopped playing and stood up, staff in hand. The voice had come from somewhere close by, and he'd heard tales of bandits. Granted… the old man about a meter away from him wasn't a bandit.

Feeling foolish, Barty lowered his staff. Upon a closer inspection, he could see that the stranger would pose no danger to him; he looked haggard, old, and tired, saggy skin hanging off a grey face.

Barty waited for the clearly older man to speak first. When the man did, his voice was raspy and quiet. "I have come a long way… I am tired. Youth, if you have no food to spare for an old man, might I rest beside you?"

"Yes, uh…" Barty fumbled, looking for his mid-day meal. When he came up with nothing, he looked apologetically at the man. "Of course, but I don't have any food… but sit, traveler. Here."

He pointed to the moss-covered boulder, and waited for the man to sit down. The man visibly relaxed as he did. "Thank you."

"Traveler, I have no food," Barty said again. "But you are tired. I can get you water. There's a stream, some seven minutes' walk from here, if you could wait… with the sheep, I mean… I can bring you a gourd."

"They're your sheep, then?" the man wondered; he had passed them as he'd walked.

"My father's."

"It is an admirable thing," the man smiled, "for a son to care for his father's possessions."

Barty didn't respond, save for returning the smile. Sheepherding had been his father's idea, and not because it would put him onto the path of adulthood; no, the elder Bartemius had found himself at a loss for servants.

"Youth—" the man started again, but stopped and shook his head. "I can't keep calling you that, not if you plan on helping me like this. What's your name?"

"Bartemius, traveler," Barty replied. He grimaced inwardly; it was the same name as his father's, and he despised it. "But… 'Barty', for convenience."

"Barty, then," the man nodded in introduction. "Well, Barty, I would not say no to a drink."

"Of course." Barty rose and grabbed his gourd. He took his staff, as well, to support himself on the uneven path to the stream, "Rest, traveler. I will be back shortly."

Barty walked away. He still felt his earlier embarrassment at mistaking the old man for a bandit, and getting his water would alleviate it, however private it had been. He didn't pass the sheep on his way, but trusted that they wouldn't run off, because as much as they despised him, they loved his father and would not abandon him.

He was so engrossed in his thoughts—however trivial they were—that he slipped on the wet grass near the stream. Swearing, Barty righted himself and picked up his staff. He found himself uninjured and barely covered in mud, and allowed himself a smile before glancing down.

"Oh," he said eloquently, looking at the two pieces his water gourd had broken into. "Oh."

Barty stooped and picked up the damaged vessel. He'd known it was delicate, but the loss was untimely, to say the least. He let out a fresh wave of curses before apologizing to whatever gods he'd offended. He'd been several steps away from the stream, could hear it rumbling below his feet, and all he had were two uneven halves of a gourd and a thirsty traveler waiting for his water.

He looked at the gourd again. Individually, the halves were useless, the cracks being too uneven to hold any water. But together—Barty smiled—they would still work.

"Thank you," he whispered to the gods. Barty knelt at by the stream's steady flow of water, pressed the two halves of the gourd together, and submerged them. When the gourd was filled, he carefully stood up, and again said, "Thank you."

With both of his hands holding the gourd, Barty wouldn't be able to carry the staff, and so left it where he'd placed it. Gingerly, he started making his way back, knowing that he would take longer than the promised seven minutes.

When he made it back, his hands and the front of his toga were soaked and cold from the water. And, when he neared the boulder, he noticed the suspicious absence of the old traveler.

Instead, a man not much older than him sat where his guest had been sitting, his pose regal and intimidating. The man wore a blindingly white toga that clashed with his dark hair, but his face was kind, if frightfully pale.

Barty approached the man in a half-bow, still clutching the gourd. He stopped two meters away, considering the distance safe but respectful. Once again, he waited for the visitor to speak first.

He didn't have to wait long. "You're very kind, Barty." The man laughed at his widening eyes. "Well, minding your father's sheep when you don't want to and fetching water for a man you don't know—fetching that water in a broken gourd, at that—it's admirable."

"You're not the old man," Barty said. He did so almost to himself; it was a statement and question addressed to nothing but the air around them.

"I am." The man pointed to the ground in front of him. "I am a traveler, Barty. I had to fear you just as much as you had to fear me. But sit. I trust you now, and I thank you for the water, although I must apologize for you having to break your gourd on my account."

"Who are you?" Barty wondered. He sat as told, then handed the man the gourd. He waited until the water had been drunk.

"My name is Arcturus." The man put the two halves of Barty's gourd onto the ground. "And I have nowhere better to be."

.oOo.

Arcturus came back the next day.

And the next.

Barty asked him, then, how long the trip was to visit him. Arcturus had replied that he'd had to walk for less than an hour.

And it was true.

That is, that he had to walk very little. In truth, there was no walking involved. For—and this was something Barty did not know—Arcturus was no mortal. He also wasn't called 'Arcturus'.

Regulus—for that was indeed him—had followed his brother's suggestion to meet the object of his affections in person. His entrance, he admitted, had been dramatic. But it had shown him the purity of Barty's soul, and had given the young shepherd a lasting memory.

Now, sitting above Barty on the mossy boulder, Regulus was listening to him play. The flute's melody was louder and clearer than the first time he'd heard it, and so much more beautiful. That time, he'd thought Barty a master. Now, as Barty's soul shone through the music, he knew it for a fact.

"You're very good." Regulus smiled as the young man stopped playing in surprise. It had just been a casual comment, but he decided to say it again. "I mean it. You're great."

"And you're insane," Barty laughed, looking up at him.

Regulus's smile widened. Their age difference—or what Barty perceived their age difference to be—had caused the young man to be distant and overly courteous. It was several weeks after they had first met, and Barty was finally warming up to him.

.oOo.

"I've got you something."

"Did you?" Barty raised an eyebrow at Arcturus, who had not bothered with a greeting.

"Yes."

"Well, what is it?" Barty took his usual seat on the ground, leaving the comfort of the boulder for his friend. "Arcturus?"

From the small bag he carried, Arcturus procured a water gourd. It was larger than Barty's old one, but not so large as to be cumbersome. He stared at the gift, having almost forgotten about what it was replacing.

"Barty?"

"Oh," Barty started, having almost gotten lost in his thoughts. His friend looked at him expectantly; Barty could almost say nervously. "Arcturus, I… thank you."

"Hey, it's the least I could do."

Barty laughed along with him, taking the gift and putting it into his own bag. Arcturus looked down at him still, but not unkindly. Barty had gotten used to his features, as well: his long, black hair, his piercing grey eyes, and even the fact that his skin seemed incapable of tanning.

His back was to the sheep, but Barty found himself not caring—not in the slightest—about his father's wrath if he lost any of them. Instead, he focused on Arcturus's smile, and on how much happier he himself felt.

.oOo.

It was a sunny day several months after he and Barty had first met. Regulus was on the boulder again, and Barty was at his feet. It was an almost symbolic position, considering his status as a god and Barty being mortal, but Regulus had other concerns at the moment. The main one was about the comfort of a certain blonde shepherd's behind.

The ground, despite the thick grass, was hard, and, as it was nearing autumn, cold. Barty was in the same clothes he'd been when they'd met: sandals and a short toga. While it was an incredible view, only one of them was having fun from it.

"Come up," Regulus finally said; Barty had just grimaced and changed his position again. "On the boulder, with me."

Barty hesitated. "I…"

"You're not enjoying yourself, are you?"

"Um…"

"Come up here." Regulus moved over on the ledge. It would be a tight squeeze, but it would be an improvement. "Please."

"I…" Barty looked at the space dubiously. Regulus saw the need for comfort win out over manners. "Alright."

He got up, smoothed down his toga where the grass had messed it up, and walked the two steps over to Regulus. Unabashedly, he looked at Barty's athletic legs, and only stopped when Barty began attempting to sit next to him.

"Let me just—" Regulus moved so that Barty could reach the ledge. "There. Now… um… sit on me, here."

"On you?"

"On me."

"That's… oh, alright."

They shifted around until they managed to maneuver into a semi-hug. Regulus grinned. "Comfortable?"

"No." Barty grumbled, moving again. "I can't feel my feet."

"Oh." Regulus moved in a way that would have made any athlete jealous. "Better?"

"Ye—that tickles!"

"Sorry."

"It's alright."

"Good?"

"Yes."

.oOo.

Barty had become used to this.

He was curled up against Arcturus, both of them covered by the animal furs that the clearly richer' man had brought. They weren't talking, for once, each in their own thoughts. Barty couldn't speak for his companion, but he was completely content.

Winter was coming, and he wouldn't bring the sheep out to the countryside for several months.

Barty felt the contentment disappearing.

He hadn't told Arcturus yet, but he suspected that he already knew. Arcturus had a way of knowing things, sometimes, that Barty couldn't even begin to understand. Perhaps it was their age difference, but he thought it was something more.

Quickly, Barty stopped that train of thought. It would do no good to dwell on something so out of reach. Surreptitiously, he moved closer to Arcturus, and could feel the man doing the same.

Barty looked up, and, sure enough, Arcturus was much closer than he had been before.

"Barty…"

He grew puzzled at Arcturus's suddenly-serious face. "Yes?"

"I have something to tell you."

That phrase had never ended well for anyone he'd even known, but Barty nodded. "Yes?"

"I need to show you something." Arcturus motioned for him to sit up. When Barty had done so, he got off the ledge and picked a handful of yellowing grass. He held it out for Barty to see. "I'd like to give you a token of… of my affections."

"That's—"

"Dead grass, I know." Arcturus closed his fist and covered the grass from view. "But what is it now?"

Barty stared at the bouquet that was being given to them. Lavish flowers, ones he didn't even know the names of, wafted their smells towards him. "You…"

"My name's not Arcturus."

"Oh."

"It's Regulus."

"Oh."

Barty felt his mouth go dry. In front of him, wearing simple, if expensive, clothes, was the king of the gods. The lightning-thrower. The man before whom mountains crumbled and other gods trembled. The man who… the man who Barty had been cuddling into for the past months. The man who Barty had fallen in love with.

"I…" He turned away. "I need some time."

.oOo.

The next day, Barty brought the sheep out to pasture again. He hadn't been expecting the pleasant "Hello" that had greeted him.

"A—Regulus," he breathed, puzzled. "I thought you'd—well, I don't know what I thought, really. That you'd be gone? That you'd smite me? That—I'm talking too familiarly for this, aren't I? I'm sorry."

"It's alright." Regulus walked closer. He stood an arm's-length away. "I didn't mean to spring this on you. I thought you'd stay."

"I'm sorry, Regulus, I…"

"Then I realized that it wasn't the best introduction I had come up with." Regulus took a visibly deep breath. "Barty, I came down here for you. First time in ten years that I've come down to earth, and I'm coming down for you. I'm coming down because I saw you, weeks ago, and I can't tear my eyes away from you."

"You can't possibly—"

"And I wanted to tell you yesterday that I'm leaving. I don't like the winter, you see, it's too cold. And, well, I didn't want to go alone. I can take you with me. And I'd be honored if you agreed."

"You're so…" Human. Loving. Caring. Kind. Considerate. Surprising. "You can't be serious."

"The day you met me, you were wishing to fly away."

"How do you know that?"

"I heard your plea. The birds you said it to didn't, but I did. And I can take you away from here." Regulus shook his head, and then it wasn't his head anymore; Barty was looking at an eagle. "With me."

Barty stepped forward, arm outstretched to touch the soft feathers. Regulus inclined his head and let him, his large eyes still posing the question.

"Yeah." Barty smiled. "I… yes. I want to come with you, yes."