AnimeWriterTycoonGirl: What's this? Two chapters in a row? Is this really happening?! Well it is! I decided since there's a huge chance I won't be able to free-write like I'd love to (I do…really!), I am churning out the first two.

I hope you were interested enough, even though the first chapter was pretty slow. This chapter is definitely move faster. Grimmjow and Isidore meet! However, Grimmjow isn't going to be known as Grimmjow for a while after they do. It took me a long…long ass time finding a good name for our favorite blue haired hollow, so please bear with me.

Grimmjow's new Greek name is Mikolas. Pronounce it as ME-CO-LASS. It's not a super hard name, and I think it might have been rather common, but it sounded better than the rest I came up with (Trust me…at one point I looked at Ahellona; meaning masculine). Both meanings for Isidore and Mikolas will be revealed in this chapter. So, let's get this chapter going!

Chapter Warnings: Slight Stalking, Flirty Grimmjow/Mikolas, Swearing, Mild Angst at the beginning; First Date! (Unknown to Isidore)

Chapter II

….

After Claas left, Isidore spent longer than he really needed tending to the olive trees that afternoon. He felt awful, knowing he would likely never find a wife for himself. As he tried to recollect himself, he felt even worse upon entering his family's house, because his mother continued to show no signs of recovering.

Mannara laid on the cot as weak as ever, with no noticeably symptoms, as usual. Her once expressive face, known for her smile that had shone like her namesake, was gaunt and blank. His youngest sister Yalena look at him with tears in her eyes. His other sister Karin refused to look at anyone as she placed a cool cloth on her mother's forehead. Their father, Iason, was nowhere to be seen.

Motioning to Yalena, the two headed to the courtyard. "She's getting worse, isn't she?" Isidore pressed, worried for his mother but knowing there was nothing he could personally do for her.

Yalena shook her head. "Nothing is working. She keeps losing weight and loses her stomach contents all the times. I've prayed and prayed to Apollo. Why won't he listen to our prayers?" tears spilled over her cheeks.

Isidore sighed heavily, embracing his sister as she sobbed. This sickness was taking a toll on the entire family. Iason was spending as much money as he could spare on learning how to be a healer, convinced if anyone could heal his wife, it was him. Yalena was already working as hard as she could to make their mother as comfortable as she could. Both girls worked hard to make up for the chores Mannara couldn't complete anymore.

He pulled away to grasp at her shoulders. "We're not giving up! If Apollo won't hear us, we'll pray to other gods. Asclepius, the god of medicine, Hecate the witch, or Caerus for luck! I'm not going to let her waste away like this!" Isidore insisted, dark eyes bright with determination.

Yalena wiped her tears. "But still…big brother…momma is in pain. I don't want to see her like this. Anything but this!" she whimpered. "I'll…try to pray to those three…but why Hecate? Wouldn't a witch goddess only make things worse?" she asked, sniffing.

Isidore sighed. "I don't know," he admitted. "But even a witch hearing our prayer is better than calling out to no one. I'm willing to do whatever it takes to cure her illness. I'll put Atlas into retirement, or Prometheus if I have to!" he said with strong conviction.

Yalena gasped. "No! Momma wouldn't want to live in a world where your liver is eaten every day! Neither would I! Please, Isidore, there has to be another way!" she begged, tears forming again.

Her older brother was silent. He truly didn't know what to do if the gods wouldn't help. They had no reason to help a lowly farmer and his family. His patron goddess was not known for her healing. She couldn't help him if he begged her; it wasn't in her power.

Isidore sighed again. "I won't promise anything Ya-ya. I can't." He admitted, hoping her favorite nickname would make it sting a little less. Yalena wiped her eyes, but she couldn't say a word back. She was just as clueless about how to heal their mother. "Papa will be back from his training tonight. Maybe he can make her feel better?" she tried, a little hope in her voice.

Again, Isidore said nothing, not wanting to crush her fragile hopes. He only offered a weak smile and headed inside to help with the other chores while their father was out.

…..

Meanwhile, Grimmjow had heard and seen everything, even what was unsaid between the siblings. Now that he knew Isidore was his soulmate, he had snuck in using darkness to conceal himself. The matron of the house really was sick, and from the looks of her, she had less than a month left if nothing was done. He couldn't possibly court his beloved if he was mourning the loss of his loved one, especially when he would be furious later for not being able to save her after revealing himself.

He thought about healing her himself to give her more time. But his healing powers were pretty weak, and was mostly used to treat his own wounds, not mortal ones. And he definitely knew the gods they spoke of; any one of the mentioned gods or goddess had immense healing powers (even the god of luck, because it could count as a miracle). But if he had to choose just one of them, it was easily Asclepius – or Jinn as he knew her – who was best for the job. Besides, the brilliant but clumsy god owed him plenty of favors.

Come to think of it, there was plenty of gods who owed him something. This could work to his advantage when he needed something to impress his soulmate while he paraded as a human himself. To be honest he was a little excited to try it out. He was beginning to grow bored of the luxuries above. Sure, there were plenty, but he wasn't a very social god, which limited him. Perhaps that would change once Isidore was made into an immortal. Given his less than social nature as a mortal though, perhaps they would merely be antisocial together. And wasn't that just beautiful?

He shook himself back to reality when he realized his soulmate was leaving the small house. Thank the heavens, the atmosphere was depressing. With confidence in his plans, the primordial god of light and darkness followed his mortal half.

He was back to tending his olives. Grimmjow had to give him credit, the man took pride in his work. And Athena – Sunnera – bragged about the magnificent olives she is gifted every year. Clearly, the woman knew who grew those olives and blessed him with harvest every year. Sunnera was indeed limited though, and the goddess of wisdom knew she wasn't qualified to heal her favorite farmer's mother.

And that arrogant little shit Apollo…he definitely could have healed her…but Mr. Sun God didn't care much for helping mortals heal. Grimmjow never liked the bastard, but then again, the feeling was mutual. Apollo (and yeah, the little shit preferred that name, fucking narcissist) never liked the god of darkness; it came with holding the power of the sun. He wouldn't lift a finger for the older god without pressure from the Fates.

Which is why he felt confident to ask Jinn. She was a remarkable healer, and kinder to Grimmjow to boot. Her healing powers rivaled Apollo's, and in fact, was responsible for most of his 'healing miracles.' Of course, the sun god took the credit. Dick.

Grimmjow was jolted out of his less than savory thoughts by a melodious sound. His little farmer was humming as he worked. The god stood still, transfixed by the gentle harmony.

Isidore, bless his heart, was unaware of his audience as he diligently tended his trees. Humming helped him tune out the misery in his life, but he wouldn't dare sing in front of anyone else; he'd be too humiliated. And it wasn't exactly manly to sing either.

Man and god spent the rest of the afternoon sun like that; Isidore humming softly as he worked and Grimmjow staring as he did so, all while hidden in the shadows.

Once the sun started to set low in the sky, Isidore packed his things and headed back to the house. Grimmjow naturally followed.

Mannara was awake, and calmly peeled the carrots from her sick bed, while the twins cooked the fish. It appeared Iason was home too; mixing something with a mortar-pestle.

"What is that, Father?" Isidore asked, washing his hands and feet in the basin by the door.

The man grinned. "A new cure! The other healers and I have seen a lot of success with this paste lately, and I feel it will be the beginning towards the path to recovery!" he stopped his work and clasped his wife's hands, carefully avoiding the crude knife. "Mannara darling, I promised I'd be the one to take away your pain, and by the gods it will happen." He declared boldly.

Grimmjow gave the man credit. That determination of his was refreshing compared to the misery plenty mortals wallowed in, and he made a note to himself to reward the man somehow for that. He was the god of light as well, and dedication was a (minor) aspect of his power. Not to mention, he had to reward the parents who brought his beloved into the world. Not that any of the mortals here were aware of such a feat.

Isidore smiled weakly. "That's excellent news father. I will pray for it's quick success tonight." He promised sincerely. Grimmjow noticed a speck of hope in his voice.

Iason smiled brightly. "Thanks, Isidore…I appreciate your support. How goes the harvest?" he asked, waiting for his son to put his tools away.

The farmer nodded as he placed his tools in the hand carved box by the door. "Athena smiled down on us yet again; I will need two oxen to cart to the big city." He explained.

Yalena's eyes widened. "So much! Will you be able to sell it all?" she asked.

Isidore's expression became more confident, allowing the god to see the similarities between father and son. "I swear I will. This year has been very bountiful for Crete, and I see no reason why wealthy patrons will not want to please the gods yet again. My olives are the best in the market every year Yaya." He boasted.

His mother put down her tools to look up at him. "Is Claas going to loan you the animals again? He's such a generous herder." She praised quietly before smiling at him. "And you are an excellent farmer Isidore. You should be very proud of yourself." She added warmly.

Isidore felt a surge of pride at his mother's praise. Indeed, it had been hard work to grow the olives himself. He ducked his head in shyness afterwards. "Thank you, mother. I do the best I can every year." he answered honestly.

Iason stroked his well-kept beard. "When do you head out for the market in Syracuse? It should take you several days even with two oxen." He pointed out.

Meanwhile, Grimmjow grinned at the unexpectedly helpful information. Syracuse huh? A perfect place to approach his soulmate without appearing suspicious. He truly could not have come at a more convenient time.

Isidore hummed. "Well, the olive oil the twins helped me made in the spring should be ready to sell, so if everything goes smoothly the next few days I'll leave before the next white moon."

Five days, Grimmjow thought to himself. Five days until the next full moon, and then Isidore will be off to Syracuse. It would not be a short ride for the mortal; even by cattle back it would take two days with a heavy cart and oxen to rest, water and feed, and the farmer would need the same. That was fine; he could wait one more week. He had been waiting for ages for the chance to find his soulmate, and he wasn't going to let anything get in his way.

The humans processed the same information, and they assured the young farmer they would be fine while he was in Syracuse.

"We'll pack you some meals so you won't be hungry during the ride!" Yalena promised.

Karin shrugged. "I'll gather extra water in the next few days so you and the oxen don't go thirsty either." She offered, which was very generous of the quiet girl. She could not hide her dislike for gathering water, but it was a woman's job, and their mother simply couldn't handle the task anymore.

"Ahahaha! Look how well cared for you are by your sisters!" Iason guffawed with a large grin. "I'll help seal up the fruits and oils so you can work on your cart. It's going to need some repair before you make the trip." He offered.

Like most things in their name, the cart used to sell their olives was older and often needed work before use, only to break down again afterwards.

Isidore sighed. "We have a lot of olives and oil this year. perhaps it is time to sell the old cart and buy a new one." He suggested, though the looks on his parents' faces said they simply couldn't afford a new cart.

Karin huffed. "I'd build us a new cart if I was allowed to purchase the supplies." She grumbled. Surprising as it was, she was an excellent carpenter. She had been taught by her eccentric grandfather, who saw the talent in her despite being a girl. As it were though, it was near impossible for anyone to take her seriously as a craftswoman, and went to male carpenters instead.

Iason gave her a gentle look. "Karin, honey, you know we couldn't afford the wood needed for a new cart. If anything, it's more likely your brother will have to trade in the old cart for supplies anyways. It's incredibly old as it is." He reasoned calmly, grinding the paste once again.

The girl grumbled and went back to her cooking.

Grimmjow listened to all of this with an amused smile. These mortals had no idea just how much their lives would change. He could give them chariots made of gold and a house made of marble. Karin would be able to work in her true craft with no complaints as she'd have the wealth to perform the craft.

Either way, Isidore's family would be well cared for in gratitude for the beautiful man he'd call his own.

He was brought out of his musings to see the men being served their meals while the women cooked their own. Isidore took a small sip of his wine before speaking again.

"Claas is trading one of his older goats, Herms, in exchange for three additional baskets this year." he explained to his father.

Iason dropped his food in surprise. "Five baskets of olives are nowhere near enough for a goat! Isidore, you have to offer him something more." He pressed, a frown on his face.

Isidore sighed. "I tried, I truly did. He wouldn't accept; claiming Herms was too old to be worth more than five baskets of olives. You know how that man is; stubborn as the bulls and goats he tends." He pointed out, calmly eating his dinner.

Iason stroked his beard again. "Well, it would be profitable to have a goat. He could give us cheese and wool for the cooler months. When will the lad be here for the trade?" he asked, knowing it was pointless to argue the trade; it was incredibly generous given their lack of wealth.

"Tomorrow. We'll do our annual exchange as usual with Herms as an addition."

"I see. Well, there is hope for our family to prosper then. Having animals is good for the household." Iason reasoned, though to who wasn't specified.

Yalena giggled. "I can't wait to see Herms. He's such a good animal." She praised.

Karin made a face. "You and Isidore are the only ones who the old goat doesn't bother. Dumb goat." She grumbled to herself.

Mannara tutted softly. "Now Karin, you just need a gentle touch when it comes to older animals. Herms needs more care in his advanced age. I daresay he is more stubborn than you." She teased.

Everyone laughed, even Karin despite her pout afterwards. The men finished their meals and the women ate their own soon after as the sun fully set.

Grimmjow's power over darkness did not require him to actually be there to drive Apollo out. Contrary to what the mortals thought, the world was round, otherwise it would have been a never-ending, exhaustive chase between the two rivals. So, he had time to continue learning about his mortal.

The girls helped their mother to her chamber after cleaning up from the meal, and Isidore took to the second floor of the house to get to his room. He sighed as he got into prayer position; with hands stretched to the sky for the gods who resided in the heavens.

"I call upon the generosity of Asclepius, god of healing and medicine, the healer, and Caerus of luck and opportunity, the miracle worker. I am poor, and cannot offer much to you, oh powerful gods residing in Olympus. But I can offer my devotion to you, whomever is gracious enough to heal my mother's illness. I will be kinder to my fellow man in gratitude of your gift. I will offer all of this, so I beg you for help in her recovery. Please spare my mother, who is the heart of this home. Your gift would be praised and paid for in exceptional sacrifices. Please…" and here Isidore faltered. "Give us a sign that you have heard my prayer. I shall be forever in your debt."

Grimmjow was moved by his soulmate's prayers. To be so selfless as to offer his devotion to the god who heard him and granted his wish. Well, that brought an idea to the god, one that would ensure the man fell hopelessly in love with him.

He waited patiently as the young man added prayers to his patron and for the paste to work (a committed man to boot) and finally fell into his bed, asleep within minutes.

Grimmjow removed himself from the shadows and carefully placed a hand over the mortal's eyes. Then, he began to speak.

"I hear you, Child of Man, in your plea for assistance for the sake of a loved one." He said, his ultramarine eyes glowing bright and his voice took on the unnatural echo that followed when speaking to humans as a god.

Isidore's breath hitched, but remained in his slumber. "I thank you…I thank you wholly and mostly humbly for listening to this lowly mortal's pleas. To whom is my gratitude for hearing my prayer?" he asked, breathless as he looked to the shadows of his dream, unable to see the deity who answered him.

Grimmjow smiled to himself as the dream logged human searched for him. "I am Aether, god of light and atmosphere." He replied, showing his form to the farmer, relishing in his shock and awe.

Isidore fell to his knees immediately to show respect. "I thank you sincerely from the bottom of my heart, Aether of light and atmosphere." He looked to his beautiful form with hope in his eyes. "Forgive me, I was unaware you had healing powers, least I offend you with my ignorance." He returned to his bow, awestruck by the god's unnatural beauty.

Grimmjow chuckled. "Your fears are unnecessary, as unfortunately, I am not well equipped to heal your mother." He answered honestly. "However," he added, as confusion and disappointment threatened to permeate the mortal's natural aura as he slowly looked up. "I cannot deny the call of someone with so much determination and fortitude, as they are aspects of my own nature." He explained.

"Your desire to heal your mother and the degree of sacrifice you offered to ensure her health reached my ears long before your prayer." This in itself wasn't a lie; he had witnessed Isidore's determination. "While I personally cannot take away your mother's illness, I will personally call upon Asclepius the healer to ensure your mother lives." He announced with finality in his voice.

"Rise, Isidore of Kamarina."

Isidore must have been used as a placeholder for Atlas, for his entire body felt lighter and full of hope upon Aether's promise. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the electric blue eyes; he has never seen such eyes in his life, and felt something strange within. He passed it off as his gratitude, having never felt a reason to be happy for the sake of someone outside of his family.

"I cannot express through words my gratefulness of your praise and assistance. How may I return the favor, lord of light, determination and atmosphere?" he asked, willing to do anything and everything for this generous god.

Grimmjow laughed, the sound lovelier than anything Isidore has ever heard. "I do not ask for much. After all, I cannot heal your mother personally as you had prayed for." He placed his hands on either of the mortal's shoulders. "My only request is for you to pray to me for the next seven days and seven nights. After you have done so, I shall appear to you once again with the cure for your mother's illness, crafted by Asclepius, and personally hand the potion to you."

Had Grimmjow not placed his hands on Isidore's shoulders, he would have collapsed in surprise. "You ask for nothing more?" he asked in astonishment. Smiling, Grimmjow shook his head. "You are far more generous than I could have ever imagined." He shook his head lightly. "I shall do so in earnest, and with unwavering resolution." He declared.

Grimmjow chuckled again. "And this is why I answered your prayer. Such tenacity is a rare and beautiful thing to witness in children of man. I thank you for such a rare gift." He smiled brightly as he removed his hands from the mortal, both quietly mourning the loss. "Never forget how blessed you are to be gifted with such strength." He added, before allowing himself to fade out from the young man's dream.

Isidore woke the next morning with joy in his heart and longing for the beautiful god to return. He turned to the side and his breath hitched.

Delicate but heavy with meaning, laid a pure blue iris on his wooden chest.

…..

Grimmjow returned to the heavens with a near permanent smile on his face. Some of the other gods noticed and wished him well, which he returned brightly. Nothing could bring down his mood.

It was perfect. He would appear before his soulmate under his human guise, and once the young man was nearing the end of his time at the market, would hand him the cure in his disguise, revealing who he was. it would be only a matter of elaborating his interest to the mortal, one that would hopefully be returned.

He scoffed to himself as he approached his destination. Naturally Isidore would fall in love with him; he saved his mother's life and is destined as his soulmate dammit! His prayers for help only made everything much easier…and faster. The primordial god entered Jinn's house without announcing himself.

The goddess of medicine was too engrossed in her project to really notice the other god until he cleared his throat. She let out an eek of surprise, and turned around. "Grimmjow! You frightened me!" she accused, a frown on her face.

Contrary to what the Greeks thought, Asclepius was a female god. Somehow, she was turned male without much explanation, and she changed her appearance if she ever assisted the Greeks, as it was quicker than explaining the truth. She was a youthful but tall woman with silver hair that shown in the light, and naturally endowed, as most goddesses were.

Jinn sighed as she placed her project to the side. "How can I help you, Grimmjow?" she asked wearily. It wasn't often the god of light and atmosphere needed her help. She feared she was being used for entertainment.

Grimmjow smiled. "Oh, come now, is that anyway to treat your elder?" he teased as he took a seat before turning serious. "I helped you create that cure for typhoid, so now I'm calling in that favor." He admitted.

Jinn blinked in surprise. "Oh? Something that needs my expertise I assume?" she guessed, turning fully to her guest.

Grimmjow nodded. "Yeah. I found my soulmate…" he paused so the woman could gush and coo at him with congratulations. "But I can't court him yet. His mother has come down with some sort of sickness, and the death of a love one would impede my courting, not to mention ruin the atmosphere I'm going for." He explained.

It might seem cold to only care about Mannara's health for the sake of his courting, but Isidore would also see it as his dedication to making the young man happy. It was a win-win scenario for both, really.

Jinn leaned back in her chair, humming. "I can probably help, but I need to know exactly what she has been plagued with. Where is the mother?" she asked.

Grimmjow sighed in relief. "Kamarina, Crete. I can only show you what I saw, but she truly is ill." He warned, before summoning the image he had of Mannara in front of the healer.

Jinn studied the image carefully, making quiet noises throughout the examination. She pursed her lips. "I will need a more thorough examination, but it appears she has been struck down by a serious disease or that new virus Lukki created." She huffed.

Grimmjow made a face. Lukki was the god of strife and disease, and known by the Greeks as Eris. In his case, he was mistaken as a woman instead of a man. He personally took insult to it, much to Grimmjow's amusement. "Can you cure it?" he asked quietly.

Normally, Jinn would be able to cure an illness quickly, but if it was still new, she needed to practice and perfect the cure, which unfortunately would be too long for newly plagued victims.

Jinn shrugged. "It depends. If it is a disease I already know about, I can cure it. if it's the new disease Lukki designed, I will need time." She answered honestly. "She is definitely ill, and will need healing regardless within the next two months or will be a target of Ulquimorrta's.

Ulquimorrta was the god of death, or Thanatos, as the Greeks knew him. Grimmjow actually got along well with the morose god, due to his darker powers being a force in the underworld.

Grimmjow sighed. He didn't want to strain the relationship between him and the god of death. "I promised him a cure within seven days. Is that reasonable for you?" he ventured, also knowing it wasn't a good idea to push the only person who could really help right now.

The goddess crossed her arms. "Geez, way to give me advanced notice." She grumbled before looking at him again. "I'll be able to answer you once I have a good look at her symptoms. Hold on." And with that she disappeared, heading for Kamarina.

Grimmjow poked around the house. It was far more modern than what the mortals had. Glass windows were extremely rare and only for the wealthiest humans, and marble was also reserved for the wealthy. That held no traction in the heavens. Even the lesser gods and immortals lived in opulence, incorporating their own style into their homes. Jinn personalized her house with warm colors and science based decorations and mementos sacrificed to her.

Grimmjow himself didn't decorate his house much, at least not from sacrifices offered to him. As Aether, he had little followers in Greece. The same applied for Erebus, who was feared more than beloved.

Grimmjow frowned to himself, reminded of his darker powers. His darkness form was frightening to humans, and he couldn't bear to see his beloved fear him. He resolved to withhold that side of him from his beloved, at least until he was made an immortal.

He wasn't left alone with his grim thoughts for long, as Jinn returned with a confident grin. "Well?" he pressed as she returned to her seat.

Jinn crossed her arms. "I checked on the woman personally. This is not Lukki's latest disease. While severe, I can heal her within a matter of months." she answered assuredly.

Grimmjow sighed. "Is there any sort of cure I can offer him within seven days? I had vowed to bring him one."

Jinn shrugged. "This illness happens to be one of the trickier ones that needs several months to fully dissipate…but I can't see a reason you cannot offer a pain reliver imbibed with moderate healing under the guise of being a true cure. It will take a lot more than just one potion, but the mortals don't need to know that." She surmised.

Grimmjow chuckled and pat the woman on her head, embarrassing her. "You're a good girl Jinn. Thank you." He praised.

Jinn blushed as she fixed her hair how she liked it. "I'm hardly a child Grimmjow; I'm three thousand years old." She pouted, looking every bit like the child she protested about.

He laughed again. "Everyone's a child compared to me. You know that." He teased, which lessened her pout. Good, he didn't want to actually piss her off or she wouldn't make the cures needed. "Send me a message when the temporary cure is ready." He turned to leave.

"Congratulations Grimmjow. You've waited long enough." She offered with a gentle smile. The primordial god paused, and smiled back as he left. Jinn sighed as she was left alone again. "Aahhh…I can't wait to find my soulmate." She said dreamily as she returned to her work.

…..

Isidore felt completely refreshing after his miraculous conversation with the god. An ancient one, at that. True to his word, he began his morning prayers, thanking Aether and Athena for his good fortune, respectively. He couldn't help but share his great news with his closest friend.

Claas couldn't believe it. "You gained the favor of an ancient god?" he repeated in astonishment. "Isidore, that is incredible!"

Isidore grinned. "Indeed, it is. I cannot believe my prayers were heard so quickly! All in part to my determination." He sighed as he looked to the sky. "Our troubles will be over. Mother will recover, and we can be a happy family once again." He turned to his friend with a grateful smile.

When Isidore smiled like that, Claas could not believe the man was still unwed. He was a kind and genuine man, and Claas wished the best for him in his search for a bride. But still…there was something troubling him.

"I do not wish to dampen your spirits, Isidore, but why did a primordial god even offer to help despite not having the power to heal your mother, and then ask for merely seven days and nights of prayer? It just…seems bizarre." He admitted.

Isidore shrugged. "It is just as you said and he admitted; he did not have the power himself to heal mother. But he vowed to bring the cure to me anyways. Is he not rewarding me for my patience and refusal to give up?" he countered, raising an eyebrow.

Both mortals were unaware of Grimmjow listening to their conversation. The god resisted the urge to curse the larger man for attempting to make his soulmate doubt his intentions…true as it might be that it was strange.

Claas sighed. "I do not know. But you are my closest friend, and I would hate to discover the god you spoke to was no more than a spirit or a nymph raising your hopes for their entertainment."

All three grimaced; that was an unfortunate fate for many mortals. Spirits had a flair especially for that type of trickery, and destroyed the hopes of hundreds. Many even took their own lives as a result of being deceived.

Isidore shook his head violently. "No…no…I refuse to believe the man who called to me is a lowly spirit! You should have seen him, Claas. He was beautiful in every way." He stated with conviction in his eyes.

Grimmjow couldn't help but preen at being called beautiful by the very man he called beautiful as well. Normally, he didn't care how people saw him, but it was very pleasing to hear his soulmate already found him attractive.

Claas decided not to press, because Isidore looked ready to vehemently defend the man who entered his dream last night. "Well, what did he look like?" he asked, humoring the notion.

Isidore looked to the skies again, a tender look in his eyes. "His eyes and hair were the color of the sky, and his skin glowed like gold. Athena held the same glow to her skin when I saw her as a child, and that is how I know he is a god." he sighed before turning back to his friend. "He had the most brilliant smile and laugh Claas. It was like seeing and hearing the heavens itself." He added.

Well damn, Grimmjow thought with a small blush. That's flattering as fuck. He had no idea he had left the farmer already smitten over him. Of course, that didn't hurt his objective of courting the man. On the contrary, he was certain the man would be his by time he left the market. He smiled at the oblivious man singing his praises. He would be sure to return the favor once Isidore was truly his.

Claas chuckled at the description. "Sounds like a deity alright. Though perhaps we should not find you a bride but a young man partner." He teased, laughing outright at Isidore's horror. "I merely jest, Isidore, though you cannot deny your description of this god could be mistaken as a lover." He said with a smile.

Isidore flushed pure red. "I am only describing what I saw! Gods are far more beautiful than men and women alike. It is not unreasonable to…" he growled as Claas resumed laughing at him. "Why do I put up with you?" he groused.

Claas gave him a knowing look. "Because I am your closest and only friend." He reminded cheerfully as Isidore contemplated bashing his head with a rock.

In the end he let the subject drop with a huff and crossed his arms. "Speaking of brides though, how is your wife to be?" he asked, desperate for another topic.

Claas smiled warmly. "She is so beautiful Isidore," he explained lovingly. Grimmjow took that as a good sign the man would not be competition. Good; he didn't have to curse his soulmate's closest companion. "I cannot wait for Gamelion to come. Perhaps by then, you too could have a beloved of your own. Your appearance cannot hide the wonderful person you are, Isidore. Man or woman would be lucky to have you as their own." He stated warmly.

Isidore turned red again as he turned away from his best friend, unknowingly turning to Grimmjow, who silently agreed with the taller man. "You give me too much credit Claas." He muttered out loud. "And you really need to stop implying I'll end up with a man. It's too scandalous, and I wouldn't want to shame my family with such a pairing." He stated.

There wasn't anything truly wrong with a man being in a relationship with another man actually. But the stigma that came with being the passive male, the one who was considered the 'woman' of the relationship, was harsh and unyielding. And Isidore inferred Claas calling him feminine. There was no greater insult for a man, though Isidore could not be so angered by his friend. He knew he didn't look like a typical Greek man.

Claas shook his head. "That wasn't my intentions at all, Isidore. I merely meant anyone would be lucky to have you as a husband. Forgive my crassness." He offered sincerely, before grinning and taking a step back. "But you cannot deny your lack of a beard…" he laughed, ducking as the younger man's fiery temper took hold and lobbed a stone at his teasing friend.

Grimmjow chuckled to himself at the display. Well, he certainly learned a lot from his little soulmate today. It was obvious the young man had budding feelings for him (fuck yeah), but mortal society made him fear being the passive one in a relationship.

Grimmjow didn't care a bit about that last part. Hell, he was an equal opportunist, contrary to what people might think of him. He wouldn't feel less of a man if he was being fucked by his soulmate. He made a note to himself to assure the man of that.

As for that temper of his, it could make things interesting. He didn't want a subservient lover anyhow, and he welcomed his argumentative nature. Life wouldn't be boring, that's for sure. For now, he just needed to wait. He watched as the two men bickered and harassed each other. Eventually, Claas needed to go back to his herd, and bade the farmer a good day as he headed home.

Isidore sighed. "What a pain in the ass you are Claas." He grumbled as he resumed his work. His scowl faded away though, as he thought back to the beautiful god who heard his prayers. As he worked, he never knew the god was smiling fondly at him.

…..

The days passed by in a blur for Isidore. He kept his promise, and prayed every morning and night to Aether. Every morning, he was rewarded with another blue iris. He finished up his work with the olive trees and gave explicit directions to his father, who would have to tend to them in his stead during his three days in Syracuse. He was surprised to see the cart wasn't as damaged as he recalled, and only had to make small repairs in order for the cart to be in working order.

He had given the irises to his mother, who had smiled brightly and immediately placed them in a vase. A blue iris meant hope and faith, which cheered everyone in the house. However, he had neglected to share his dream with his family as he had with Claas, fearing they might also believe he had been visited by a spirit instead. He refused to believe Aether had been only an illusion, and therefore kept the information to himself.

True to their words, his family helped however they could for the market in the past four days. Normally, Iason would have gone, but for the last two years, Mannara was sick, and he could not leave her side. Isidore had feared he would come home and she would be gone, but now he had too much hope to have that fear this year.

In addition to his olives and olive oils, Isidore packed pottery made by his mother and sisters, and a few hand carved wood pieces by Karin, who insisted he sold them for additional money to help their mother. Isidore only smiled and thanked her, knowing it wouldn't be necessary. He asked if there was anything they wanted; as there were plenty of goods not available in Kamarina that could be found in Syracuse.

The girls shyly asked for honey pastries, which was a bit of a luxury. Iason wanted to know if there were any exotic medicines being sold. Mannara didn't ask for anything, but Isidore planned to get her a new dress if he had a generous amount of money at the end of his time at the market.

Soon, it was the morning he would leave for the marketplace. He had just finished tightening the ropes securing his merchandise when his father came outside.

"Isidore, please be careful. There has been a lot of tensions between the Carthaginians and our city. If there is the slightest implication of battle, return home. We can wait." He assured him.

Isidore frowned. He knew things had been getting tense between Kamarina and Carthage for a while now, but war was always a frightening possibility. He shook his head. "Father, don't worry; I'll be fine. I have made the trip to Syracuse before during periods of war, and I have always returned. I promise I will be alright." He swore, offering a small smile.

Iason sighed and grinned despite himself. "It's only a father's duty to be worried about his son and daughters. I will worry anyways." he chuckled before getting serious again. "Just be careful. If war breaks while you are gone, just wait it out in the city of Akri." He pressed.

Isidore groaned but agreed, if only to get his father to stop worrying. He had never had an issue before. It was pointless to worry now. Not now when he would be bringing home the cure everyone desperately prayed for.

With a wave, Isidore set off, his family waving back until he could no longer see them. Isidore set himself up for a long ride, already planning his rest stops. His first stop would be during a late mid-day meal so the oxen could rest for a while near the city of Akrillai. Then stop to rest for the night in either Kasmenai or Morgantina, depending on how fast the oxen move. From there, it would take far less than half a day to get to the big city.

Iason had warned about tensions between the rival city-states, but he could not see any tensions at all. Rather, people looked up from their farming and waved as he passed. It was a relief, to be honest, as he had no way to really defend himself from a battle. A few thieves, perhaps, but not a fully trained army.

He had been riding for several hours when he finally spotted the city of Akrillai. It was another good trading city, but the real profits came from its mother city; Syracuse. He found a good resting spot to let the oxen rest and graze, and he took the time to stretch and think about starting his mid-day meal.

"Oh? Is that Isidore Karousakis I see?" an oily voice rang out. Isidore stiffened and turned to the owner of the voice.

It was an old tormentor of his when he was just a boy – Vavara Lastis. Even now, the older man grinned as he took notice of the unusual red-yellow hair.

Isidore's face hardened but nodded politely. The man chuckled. "I knew it was you. People can spot your vexatious head color beyond the mountains." He grinned, not a pretty sight. "What brings you to Akrillai, farmer boy?"

The farmer heaved a sigh. "I'm off to Syracuse to sell my olive oil and fruit. I am merely letting my oxen rest before we take off again. I had no idea you lived here now, Vavara." He stated calmly, doing his best not to let his old bully get to his head. He wasn't a child anymore…he could defend himself now.

Vavara scrunched his nose. "What? You think you're some sort of noble now because you own a few oxen? You're nothing Karousakis!" he snarled.

Isidore smirked. "Oh? That's why I'm heading to the big city to sell my wares…and you're here wearing tattered clothes."

Okay, not the best choice in words. The man snarled and went to throw a punch aimed straight for his head. Isidore immediately jumped back to avoid the hit. This went on for three more attacks, with Isidore dodging and Vavara getting more and more frustrated. Unfortunately, Isidore did not see the roots sticking out the ground, and fell with a surprised yelp. Vavara cackled at his misfortune, and stalked forward to pummel his old victim.

A sharp neigh cut through the air, and a black stallion suddenly intervened between the two men, causing Vavara to jump back in surprise. An equally sharp whistle had the horse turning back to it's master, who glared at Vavara.

Isidore couldn't help but stare at the man. He was the pinnacle of Grecian beauty. Raven locks tangled in the gentle breeze, and sun kissed skin covering hard muscles almost glowed wherever his pristine clothing did not cover. His clothing and the fact that the horse obeyed him told the two rivals this man had money.

He continued to glare as he stalked forward. "You seem very confident in your skills to attack a man who is disadvantaged. Very cowardly, if you ask me." He sneered, offering a hand to the stunned farmer.

Vavara scoffed. "I was only finishing what was started. This has nothing to do with you stranger, so get lost before I rough up that nice outfit of yours!" he snapped, but faltered when sharp brown eyes practically burned into him, taking the fight right out of him. The bully felt something off about this guy…and decided he wasn't going to take the risk of messing with him.

"I make it my business when brutes try to take advantage of others. How am I not to assume you were going to assault him and pilfer his wares? You know what this country does to thieves…don't you?" the stranger offered with a smirk.

Isidore watched with wide eyes as his old bully paled and ran away, then laughed softly to himself. Harassers…they never changed, he thought bitterly. He finally took the hand offered to him and dusted himself off. "Thank you…I'm so sorry I forced you to intervene good sir." He apologized.

Now close up and no longer angry, the man's eyes were a warmer color and he had the physical attractiveness of a charismatic leader. A strong nose, sharp eyes and a well-kept goatee accentuated his good looks, as well as the crooked smile offered.

The man waved him off. "Don't be. I couldn't stand idle while that…waste of human flesh attempted an assault in broad daylight. Utter fool." He scoffed in the man's direction before smiling softly at the farmer. "Are you alright?" he asked.

Isidore chuckled. "Yes, thanks to you. Please, what is the name of my protector?" he grinned back.

The man bowed slightly. "Forgive me, that was rather rude. Mikolas Gerasimos of Gela, at your service."

Isidore offered a lower bow in respect. "Isidore Karousakis of Kamarina. I thank you graciously for your intervention."

Mikolas raised an eyebrow. "Kamarina? That's the city at the southern east is it not? Have you come to Akrillai to sell your wares?" he asked with polite curiosity.

Isidore shook his head. "Not at all. I am merely resting here so…my oxen are not overworked. I am actually heading to Syracuse to sell my olive oils and fruits." He explained, gesturing to the cart and animals. He wasn't sure why, but he was reluctant to admit his true status to Mikolas.

The Gelan citizen chuckled. "Is that so? As it so happens, I was also on my way to Syracuse for business as well. Akrillai is usually such a nice city, but now my memory of it has been tainted." He grimaced and shook his head.

Isidore sighed. "As has mine. I always loved the view of the mountains when I travelled here as a child with my father. I was unaware Vavara had migrated here."

Again, Mikolas frowned. "You know that brute?" he asked in distaste.

Isidore shuddered. "Not fondly, I assure you. He had been very fond of torturing me as a child, and I can see that infatuation has not ebbed in the slightly." He muttered, mostly to himself but the other man heard anyways.

"Tch…what a repulsive man. Anyhow, how long do you plan on resting here? Perhaps we could travel to Syracuse together?" Mikolas offered with a smile, smoothly changing the subject.

The farmer blinked in surprise. "Together?" he repeated before laughing quietly. "I would only slow you down, good sir. My oxen are nowhere near as swift as a stallion…and a beautiful one at that." He added, mesmerized by the large pure black beast.

Mikolas whistled for his horse again, and the stallion trotted to his side. "Panthera is a patient horse. He wouldn't mind making friends with your oxen." He winked, and the farmer blushed as the wealthy man laughed. "Please. I do insist. We are heading towards the same city either way. The journey will go much faster with someone to conversate with."

"Well…if you do insist…then I would be more than happy to join you on your journey." Isidore relented with a smile.

Mikolas grinned. "Excellent! We shall let the animals rest for now. Let us learn more about one another over the mid-day meal." He decided, wrapping an arm around his companion as he guided them both towards the trees for a reprieve from the sun.

Isidore flushed at the constant skin to skin contact the other man insisted on having. Perhaps citizens of Gela were just very friendly people. Isidore gathered a small basket filled by his sisters and a container of olive oil to dress the bread with.

"So…Isidore eh? Your parents must have felt blessed to name their child Strong Gift." Mikolas grinned as he pulled out the jug and cups (red painted pottery at that!) for their wine and oil.

Isidore flushed even as he poured a small amount of the oil into one of those elaborate dishes. "My father enlightened me to the reason when I was a child. As it were, my parents had struggled to conceive." He explained sheepishly. Mikolas nodded, intently listening. "They had been married for two years, but a child never came for their efforts. They decided to pray to Hera for fertility, and not long after, they were blessed with me. I was known as their miracle child." He explained with a smile.

Mikolas returned the smile brightly. "What a beautiful story. It would seem your family as a whole is quite blessed. You are a very kind and good person, I could see that right away." He said sincerely.

The younger man ducked his head, laughing quietly. "Even so, the gods may have taken pity, but they surely could have refrained from giving me such a strange colored head." He joked, but was surprised when the other man failed to laugh along.

Mikolas raised an eyebrow. "Forgive me, I fail to see the humor here. You were clearly blessed as a child by the gods, yet you hold contempt for your appearance. Why is that?" he asked, and Isidore was startled to realize he was completely serious.

He frowned and pointed at his head. "You find nothing curious about my appearance?" he asked incredulously.

Mikolas shrugged. "I have traveled across many lands in my youth, apprenticing in different crafts honed by countless cultures. There were people in the far west who had similar colorings. Many of them, in fact, the more northern you went." He described.

Isidore was stumped. He had no idea there could possibly be others who looked the way he did. "And they…were treated well and with respect?" he asked cautiously with a glimmer of hope.

Mikolas smiled softly. "The ones I encountered were royalty of their own cultures. There is no reason to be treated so harshly based on the color of ones' hair." He declared, ruffling his new friend's hair to make a point, his smile morphing into a teasing grin.

Isidore coughed and swatted his hand away. "Yes well…that is enlightening to hear. You must be well traveled and experienced then. I would love to hear stories of your travels during our excursion." He said in earnest. Traveling merchants always had such fascinating tales.

Mikolas laughed. "My tales are not as adventurous as you might hope, but I am happy to oblige!" he picked up his casket of wine, pouring a small amount into one glass, but a larger amount in another before adding water to each.

Isidore raised an eyebrow himself. "Are you not worried about imbibing too much to ride properly?" he asked politely. No Greek drank wine straight; it was barbaric. Wine was meant to be watered down.

Mikolas laughed. "Now THAT is a story worth sharing over horseback, but I'm happy to share now." He leaned forward artfully. "As a young child, I forwent water entirely, and drank an entire casket of wine unfiltered." Isidore bit back a chuckle; that surely didn't end well. "I ended up horribly sick as a result. Almost swore to never drink wine again. But as I aged, I returned to it gracefully, and discovered I would need to imbibe much more wine, watered or not, to return to such a humiliating state. I was quite embarrassed at the time though." He chuckled at his own expense.

Isidore laughed outright. "Oh, you poor man. That must have been a dreadful time for you. Must have bee a shock for your parents, especially when you were gifted with the equally heavy name 'The people's victory.' I cannot imagine their embarrassment." He teased lightly.

Mikolas rolled his eyes. "Oh yes you can. It's the same for anyone whose child makes a fool of themselves. And I cannot imagine why they burdened me with such a heavy name; perhaps they assumed I would go on to great things." He shrugged, accepting the bread smeared with olive oil.

Isidore gave him a soft look. "Really? Because from my viewpoint you did go on to achieve such greatness. You are very well traveled." He expressed warmly before raised an eyebrow as the man froze after taking a bite of his bread. "Is something wrong? Has the oil been out in the sun too long?" he fretted.

Mikolas shook his head rapidly. "No, no! Not at all! I just…this is…the purest olive oil I've ever tasted!" he declared with a wide grin, polishing his bread in two more bites. "You grew this yourself? Incredible!" he raved.

Isidore blushed; he was always so shy when people praised the – literal – fruit of his labor. "Thank you. Athena blessed my family with excellent fruit. There is very little I am responsible for." He insisted.

Mikolas laughed as he took a sip of his slightly watered-down wine. "Hardly! Indeed, Athena may have blessed you with the fruit trees, but the fruit itself is solely the responsibility of the farmer. You grew these delicious olives, not Athena." He shot back with a knowing smile.

Isidore felt red again. It was such a shock to be treated so kindly. He was used to people helping him out of necessity, but Mikolas was treating him like an old friend who needed a pep talk. It was…nice.

He smiled brightly, still pink around his ears as he offered more bread. Mikolas's eyes lit up and they traded his olive oil spread bread for some dates and nuts the other man had brought with him.

They ended lunch after a few more minutes, realizing if they wanted to get to Morgantina before sundown, they needed to leave soon. As they packed up, the two chatted a little more about their lives.

Mikolas was an only child, it turned out, and he had been a terrible prankster as a child, which prompted his father to send him off around the world and become well rounded to make up for his immaturity. He had just returned from the mysterious China, and planned on negotiating some trade routes open to the ancient country through Syracuse.

In return, Isidore opened up about his two sisters and the usually crazy antics of his father (he hadn't been able to joke around much since Mannara's sickness). He also, sheepishly, admitted the oxen weren't his, merely a loan from his good friend. Mikolas scoffed at the notion he would have looked down on the other man for being less fortunate, and they began a friendly banter as they continued their journey.

Isidore had never felt so secure around another person who wasn't his family or Claas. He wasn't sure why, but he was just so comfortable around Mikolas. It was a pleasant feeling, to know he had gain another ally, and one so interesting and wealthy in knowledge and coin. He didn't concern himself too much with that last facet of the handsome man, but he was eager to absorb the stories of his travels, having never left Crete, much less Greece. For once, he was looking forward to the journey of heading to Syracuse.

….

Grimmjow was ecstatic underneath his mortal skin. Isidore really was a beautiful person inside and out. Having those warm honey colored eyes stare at him, actually looking at him this time, in happiness, made him almost blow his cover and reveal himself too early.

He really had to offer some gratitude to the loathsome man who tormented his soon to be love; it was a perfect excuse to swoop in and protect his soulmate, which would only make the young farmer adore him even more. He could tell Isidore was already attracted to 'Mikolas' by the change in color of his aura. He had shown signs of the same attraction when he entered his dreams as Aether, but dreams make auras appear faint.

Coming up with Mikolas's story and life was painfully easy, and Grimmjow made sure he would apologize to his lover once he was indeed his lover and aware of the truth. Though, to be fair, some of the stories he was sharing while they rode towards the mountains weren't false. He really had visited a lot of countries across the world and taken interest in some trades (taking an appropriate guise to learn firsthand) while performing his work as the god of darkness and light. Though he definitely altered the story about getting drunk on wine at a young age.

First, he was never a child; he was created by his elders the Fates and Chaos (who thankfully was in an eternal sleep). Secondly, gods never watered-down wine. It was a travesty for Shanes – Dionysus – to see his lovely wine spoiled by the Greeks, but then again, he was often too drunk to remember unless someone brought it up. Finally, the god who had gotten drunk off their ass surprised everyone; Thanatos: the dour god of death. Grimmjow had laughed so hard he pissed himself at the normally monotonous and serious god grinning and…holy shit…making jokes.

It was easily one of his favorite moments in his impossibly long life. He was so eager to share his old experiences and be introduced to many more with Isidore at his side. However, if everything went as planned, Jinn would have the semi-cure ready for him in two days, and during Isidore's last night of praying for him, he would reveal who he was within that time. As the two men finally reached Morgantina after many hours of conversation, he looked forward to his time spent in Syracuse.

AWTG: Oh my god you have no idea just how hard it was to finish this. My winter break was not relaxing at all and I was forced to put this way behind schedule. But here it is. Please feel free to offer criticism; it's why I post here.

Gela was a real place just like Kamarina and the other cities I listed, but if I'm missing something please feel free to correct me.

Oh, and from what I learned, red pottery was very expensive back then. Thank you!

Ciao~!