A/N: So right now this is just a silly one shot. Everyone has names that start with the same letter, save for "Zephyr" which is a nickname. But really, who else would you give a nickname that means "West Wind" to? It's just so fitting? Anyone who follows me on twitter, should I continue this or not? Anyone who doesn't... review? They make it that much more fun to write, although I don't know where I want to go with this just yet.
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. Hence FAN fiction :) I only wish I owned Leverage and the Greek Gods.
The hallway was pitch black, darker then even the skies violet shade. It was the perfect time for being asleep, but the streets weren't as empty as they should have been. A young woman weaved between buildings, searching for something. Her hair was a muddy brown, although it seemed almost artificial, and it whipped her in the face as she ran. It was cropped short, mimicking the style often found among slave boys. The girl caught her reflection in a puddle on the road, and she couldn't help but smirk a little. She could easily pass for a commoner at worst, a slave at best. It was just the opening that the thief needed; no one payed attention to the slaves until after they discovered something was gone, and she'd have moved on by then. Her gaze finally settled upon a door with a symbol carved near the top. A safe haven. She glanced around to make sure no one had followed her, then entered the doorway. Although it seemed like any other home on the street, the place she had entered was another refuge for nomads and thieves like herself. One young boy ran up to give her a hug, and she couldn't help but let out a slight chuckle. "Lucas, you should be asleep." The girl ruffled the kids hair as she spoke. Her Celtic accent was thick, but she could be understood and that was the important thing. The child nodded, looking down at the floor.
"I'm sorry, Zephyr. I just wanted to make sure you got home safe." The thief, Zephyr, pulled away from the boy's grip and started to walk to the alter. She didn't want the younger child to see her get too emotional. They both knew that she should have moved on by now, that she was taking a huge chance staying in Greece. The longer she stayed, the harder it was for her to leave, and that fact seemed to trouble her more then anything. Zephyr grabbed some coins from her pocket and placed them onto the makeshift alter. Many of the refugees had adopted the Greek gods as their own, and she was no different. A quick prayer to Hermes escaped her lips before she turned back to Lucas.
"Well, maybe next time you won't have to wait for me here." The boy looked confused for a second as the words sunk in, but once he understood it was all he could do to keep from shouting for joy.
"Really? That'd be great Penelope!" Zephyr flinched at the use of her real name, and Lucas gasped as he realized what he had said. "I'm sorry! I was just so excited and -" Zephyr cut him off.
"It's fine. Just be careful, ok?" She patted him on the head a couple times before suggesting they both retire for the night. As she settled into her bedroll, thoughts of her past resurfaced and she tried to brush them off once more. She wouldn't get a good rest, that much she knew.
"Evander! Commander's office, one hour." Evander gave a curt nod as the messenger ran off to continue his route. He knew what this would be about, even if he didn't want to admit it. His training in Sparta had been very helpful, but his loyalty would always lie with the highest bidder. His time was almost up, and there had been a noble in Athens who had been eager to see the young man prove his skill. When he reached his commander's office, he walked straight in. The man in front of him was far past his prime, but still had an aura of power around him. He was someone who had seen many battles and would live to see many more. The commander in turn studied Evander. His pitch black hair had been cut almost all off, leaving very little left. The young man had a rough youth, and it showed in his cold blue eyes. It was an odd combination for a Greek, but if he was to be believed, it was explained away by his Corinthian lineage. The man had come from a long line of assassins and mercenaries, and it had been an honor to work with him for as long as he had. "You called for me, Commander Lysander?" The commander nodded and dismissed the guards from the tent.
"Evander, your time here is almost up. I need to ask you as both your commander, and your friend. Do you think you're ready for this?" Evander didn't even need to hesitate before he nodded. Lysander sighed and turned around. He had trained the boy's father, and had seen the child grown from a young immature boy into a disciplined young man. It pained the older man to see him off like this, but it had to be done eventually. "Very well then. The noble needs you for one reason or another. He wasn't quite clear. Do you need his name? No, let's not for this one. He just wants you to show you off I'd assume. He sent a messenger earlier today, and his people will be here to escort you in two days time. Until then, feel free to use anything you'd like. Stay safe, and may Hermes guide your way." Evander nodded again, opting not to speak. He was a man of few words, and although he would talk to his friends, he was also a man of few friends. He turned to walk out, but he did stop to say one thing before he left.
"I thank you for your hospitality. May Ares keep battle from you, or barring that, may you die honorably." They exchanged respectful nods, and with that the assassin walked out of the tent for the last time.
The rain had stopped earlier that night, but Nathaniel hadn't really noticed. He had gone outside to enjoy the one thing that his homeland hadn't really had. Athens really was a nice city, and he knew he was very lucky. Not many slaves got to roam as freely as he was able to, and even less got to wear the clothes of a commoner. Then again, it was usually the Romans taking the Greeks as slaves, not the other way around. Nathaniel could have laughed at the irony. He came from a family of Greek slaves who had finally bought their freedom in Rome, only to be brought back to Greece as slaves. Bright hazel eyes turned to the heavens, trying to sort through that days problems. Tomorrow he was teaching the children mathematics and philosophy, and neither child cared for either subject. On his off time he would go to the temple, maybe try to get some reading done. His master had a party later in the week, and the invitation had been extended to a couple slaves, Nathaniel included. It had been a surprise to him, but no one else seemed to think anything of it. It was his chance to mingle as a free man, or at least that's what his master had told him. If Nathaniel didn't know him better, he would have thought that his master wanted him to be free, even if it meant losing his best tutor. Not that he would stop teaching the children. It was something he did for fun, free or enslaved. Teaching, learning, planning, it was all the same. It was something he'd never be able to stop doing, no matter the circumstances.
The sharp sound of metal on metal rang out as sparks flew. As more hits sounded, the blob of hot iron started to flatten and take shape. A young man watched as his mentor started to make a sword from what had started as an impure ore. It was fascinating watching how far civilization had come, from wild tribes of nomads to vast cities that could function without the need to travel. His chocolate brown eyes took in every bit of information as it came, his ears listening to every word spoken. He knew it wouldn't be long before he would have to get back to the temple. The priests there had taken him in, but he still had to pull his weight. In addition to that, a local metal smith had taken him as an apprentice, which was more then anyone could have hoped for. Most mentors tried to avoid orphans, but Andrew had taken him in without a second thought. When he learned that the boy had no name, Andrew had taken it upon himself to name the young boy. "Hector," he had declared one day. It was a powerful name, and the young boy was surprised to say the least. Over time, he learned the reason behind his name. "I had a friend, you see. He was a great guy, very nice, always tried to make sure everyone else was taken care of. He was a soldier, though, and a job like that is risky. I always thought I'd have a son to name after him, but I never got married." Hector had nodded and felt honored if not a little nervous. He wondered if he could live up to his namesake, which was a daunting task to be sure.
"Hector! Get you head out of the clouds, son!" Andrew boomed, laughing as his apprentice jumped.
"Sorry sir. I was just wondering if you could explain the process to me. Why does metal get so workable when it's hot? And if we could fashion it into swords and shields, couldn't we also make other things?" Hector wanted to continue, but the look on Andrew's face told him he shouldn't. Andrew didn't know the answers, and he didn't pretend that he did. He offered the boy a quick shrug before realizing what time it was.
"By the Gods, you're going to be late again! Just be glad it's Hades you serve, otherwise you'd have one mighty fine afterlife to look forward to! Make sure you live long enough to meet my friend though!" the man joked, practically pushing the younger man out the door. Hector waved as he sprinted for the temple, not at all worried about his punishment. He knew how to smooth talk his way out of anything too bad, and for the most part Hades was a passive god. He reigned over the dead, so why did he care what the living did until it was time for their judgement? Hector pondered the idea as he ran, looking forward to stumping the others in the temple once again.
Sophia looked around the room as she entered, not liking what she was seeing at all. She was supposed to be there to help her friend plan for some big event he had going on, but he hadn't shared any other information with the woman. She couldn't help but sigh as she watched slaves rearrange the couches and made sure the room would be ready in advance. The party wasn't until the next day, but it would be better to get the room done early so that the rest of the time could be used on other trivial things. To be honest, she wasn't a big fan of planning the parties as much as she loved attending them. "Cyril, come here please," she shouted, knowing he would have heard her regardless. He walked into the room, and she stopped for a second to give him a once over. He was wearing a plain white tunic, but his red sash stuck out like a sore thumb. It went well with his bright emerald eyes and dark brown hair, even if it didn't quite fit with his tanner complexion. He had a small scar on running from one edge of his mouth down to his chin, a reminder of an attempt on his life that had occurred a little less then a year ago. Sophia had been nervous when it first happened, considering it was her boyfriend at the time who had ordered the hit, but when he didn't shun her she decided everything was ok between them. She still remembered everything vividly, and even found herself wondering if the person she thought she knew had changed because of it. Indeed, he did seem more serious now, but that could have been because he often found himself surrounded by scholars for his job. Sophia nodded once, then spoke. "I'd go with yellow or blue. Red just doesn't suit you, dear." Cyril scowled and went back into his room. While she enjoyed parties, he wasn't a fan of social events. There was one big surprise that he was looking forward to, but no one knew what it was yet. If she had to guess, however, Sophia would have put all her drachmas on a gladiator or something similar. Cyril loved his fighting, and he loved to prove how good he was. It made her just a bit nervous, if she was honest with herself. There had been many times where she saw the feral look in his eyes as he watched the lions in the pits, and it was a similar look he gave those who angered him. 'Like a cat playing with a mouse,' she thought, shivering a little bit. She didn't need to be an expert at reading people to know that he enjoyed the chase and the catch more then the actual kill itself. But that was only one side of him, and it wasn't even the side that usually was in charge. She was just being silly, worried over nothing. She gave one last nervous glance to Cyril's door before she started ordering the slaves around again. The fast she was done, the sooner she could get home.