i.i Wolf General, Wolf Pup and Lionheart

"Leave us." His voice was deep, strong, and kind of intimidating to Dakota.

She looked to the younger man that stood next to his commanding officer. The moment he spoke, there was a bit of disappointment that flashed on his face. She was certain that she saw a hint of sadness there, but the young man did not dare speak back. Obedient soldiers never question their authority figures or else they will face consequences. Dakota had a history of always getting under the skin of officers. She would question their authority when it came to the safety of her team. The many times she gotten many counseling's and put on extra duty was worth being right; most of the time.

A good leader always knew what was right. Dakota had a deep sense that there was always someone behind the curtains of her mission. Being briefed, going out there with her team, and coming back with bruises and cuts. She would get angry at the fuck ups that had happened along the way. Never truly understating the purpose of their extractions, only that the people they were transport and guard were civilians. Strange and weird people that kept to themselves and spoke among their own.

Then Egypt happened.

"Your name." He spoke, causing Dakota to blink. She was in her thoughts of the past and she was rather enjoying the memories of sticking her middle finger behind her officers back and having her comrade's snicker. Those memories were just reminders of a happier Dakota, before everything went South. Memories that were shadowed by the bad ones. The nightmares that haunt her when darkness falls.

The man was waiting for her answer. A simple answer, but one that could better identify the you ng woman. A name was used to identify her family or where she comes from- a birth land. Unfortunately, Dakota already knew that her name- both birth and last name- were strange. No one would have that name in this time period.

"Dakota Whittaker. Retired sergeant. Blood type O positive. That is all I will have to say, but you have asked for my name. Other information is just protocol that is useless here because my former rank means nothing and my blood type will not help." She said, looking up at the man. Her eyes giving way to how hollow and empty they are. The dark circles under her eyes could have made her delirious, but she was focused.

The man was not sure how to take the strange way she talked as he was quiet for a moment. He has never heard her name being common in the land- a foreigner. Retired Sergeant? He does not know what that could mean, but by looking closely at Dakota- a strange name- he could see the bruises and her physical features. She was strong and rather lean with muscles twitching under her skin.

She is no slave. She cannot be a runaway. He thought to himself as Dakota moved to ease the tension off her sore wrists. Seething with pain, she could not help but clench her jaw.

"Women are not permitted to fight, unless it is to defend their home when the men go off to war. A foreign woman, such as you, cannot hail from Athens or Sparta." Dakota wanted to hit her head against something hard. The many times she has heard being called a foreigner or where she comes from becomes tiring after the hundredth time.

She might as well be called an Amazonian, because it's the only explanation that could make sense to these people. Fuck!

"I have seen my share of war from enemies who hide in plain sight and they hide in mountains. I have fought alongside men and women from different walks of life. Now, I see that you are a busy man by the way you look and talk, so, what do you want to know?" There it is. The old Dakota that used to talk back to officers. The snug faces of past would feel offended and demand that she shows them respect. There was a saying: you do not have to respect the person, but respect the rank. Some people did not deserve to be put on a high regard because they get muddled.

Enlisted always paid the price for an officer fuck up. It was of any wonder why Dakota never got kicked out. Someone higher up wanted to continue their sick game.

"Stentor did mention you had a tongue of a viper." He was a bit amused, but also annoyed at having a woman of so little status talking back. It could get her killed, yet, he had wanted to know more of this strange woman.

Dakota, sometimes you need to keep your mouth shut. She thought to herself. This was no ordinary soldier. This wasn't even a low ranking one. Men of his status were dangerous and unpredictable.

"You have caused a distraction among my men. A lone woman, near a cave, being captured without a fight, and not thinking of escape. It can be suspicious. It would not be the first time a woman has been seen as a spy." He places his hand on a sword on his hip. Dakota swallowed some spit that was accumulating in her mouth. Even though she has not had any water or food, she somehow had spit in her mouth.

"I am no spy, I assure you. What would I gain out of this? Resisting soldiers would only get me hurt or killed. I am answering truthfully, because I want to return home. I also want to get the bastard that took my blood." She seethed with anger thinking about the grey-eyed man. Her fists clenched behind her; the scar that was on her palm had healed. Another reminder of that day when she felt weak. The man who haunted her dreams.

"Blood?" He spoke.

Dakota should have kept her mouth shut, but she could not help but speak haphazardly. What was it about this man that made her speak as if she was speaking freely to Alexios? She scolded herself closely to almost biting off her tongue. Looking away from the man, Dakota listened closely to what he had to say.

She was in trouble. Her instincts were telling her to think of options of escape. Anything to get away from whatever was causing her to stay. The shadows of the hooded men were not coming forth, as if scared of what is to come. What did they know that she did not? Why hide all of a sudden when she needed some kind of protection? The shadows are becoming troublesome to understand.

"Why would someone want to take your blood. Unless," he paused for a moment. Thinking about what he was going to say next. It sounded like he knew something Dakota did not, which made her curious about the matter. She looked back at the man to see that his gaze had darkened the moment their eyes met. A chill went down her spine.

"I should kill you now and pray to the gods that the curse placed upon you be wiped clean." Dakota wasn't sure what she should make of the matter. Dakota you idiot. Now you might not get out alive. This, this is where your fate leads too. You are going to die. She could see that behind the darkened glare, there was also a bit of fear. Dakota knew that there was someone behind the scenes, pulling the strings and leading her. Death was where all roads end.

"Killing me will not make whatever you fear go away. Believe me, whatever I have done to upset the gods, will not make them happy." She tried to not to sound desperate. Dakota wanted to understand what he meant by these riddles. The more he was willing to say, maybe, she could come to terms of why she was in this place. Someone had called for her to come here and now, she might have some answers to the puzzle of her reason.

But first, she had to convince this man that she needed to live. At least long enough to understand why she was being pulled through these dangerous roads that might lead to nowhere. There has to be reason. There just has to be! Dakota was growing tired of these games the shadows were pulling. She wanted names. She wanted faces to the cowards that hide behind their hoods!

"You do not understand what lies in wait. Long ago, I lost two of my children their fate had been set, and they also spoke of a woman coming from the sea. She would be tied to my family by blood." Dakota looked wide eyed with confusion. Listening intently with a racing heart at what she was hearing. How could she have not seen it? How could she miss how the man standing before her looked so familiar? It had clicked in her mind that she was talking to Alexios's father. This man, who lost both his children. The one who had caused Alexios pain from a past he had run away from. The one who cast him over a fucking cliff!

This is bad. This is so bad. She thought. The soldier within Dakota had vanished the moment she felt as if she were caught in some trap. This man will not hesitate to kill her; with possible hope that her life would be enough to keep from whatever happening, to come to pass. This was much deeper than what Dakota had expected. What the fuck?! She had to think quickly to save her skin. She could not tell this man that his son still lived and coming for his head. She had to reason. Not too much could be said, because if he found out that she was travelling with his son, things could end badly for her.

"I do not understand what you mean. I am not related to you or your family. I am only trying to find my way back home without causing too much trouble. It is by mere coincidence that I am here before you. I am not the person you seek to kill or harm, whatever have you." Dakota needed to survive. Her fight instincts were getting the better of her. Being in a weakened state, no food or water, she does not have enough strength to fight the man. He was a fucking Spartan general!

Nikolaos of Sparta: the wolf.

"The gods have sent you from the sea. A woman, alone by a cave. Being captured without a fight. You were willing. Killing you, here and now, will spare me and my family from your cursed blood tie." He grabbed the sword; the sharp weapon being pointed at her neck. Dakota's body tenses from the contact made upon her skin. She was now on her knees to keep the weapon from digging into her skin. Her body was now shaking from the pain of moving too quickly. Her head was pounding from the lack of drink.

"You do not understand. I do not understand. If whoever called to me and brought me here, I want to understand. I am not here to bring trouble. I try to avoid battle because of what I have seen. Those I have loved killed before me. I want to see the face of my enemy. I grow tired of them hiding from me." She closed her eyes tightly. Her wrists were moving, but the rawness of her flesh was burning against the ropes.

"These words you speak to me. I am not one to cause harm. If my blood has ties to you and your family," she couldn't think of much to say. She didn't know what else to say. Her mind was racing with any possibility of what it meant that her blood had ties to his family. It confused her and frustrated her at the same time.

What does that mean? As far as I know, we are not related. My family tree does not even start in Greece. My mother was an immigrant from Colombia and my father's side of the family are Iranians who came to America and changed their last name to better fit in. I don't even look Greek! Dakota's headache was growing worse the more she thought about it and the fact that she was going to die like some pathetic dog. If only she had enough strength to attempt escape, but if she were to look at herself, she would see nothing but a sad case.

This world has broken her down to the very core. Dakota was already defeated, tired, and lost. She hated it. She hated being this shell. She opened her eyes to tears trailing down her cheeks. Her gaze staring in anger at Nikolaos. These were not tears of sadness. Her tears were of anger and despise. That spark within her growing for the act of survival.

I will not go down without a fight.

"I am Dakota Whittaker. I was a soldier, who has seen war. I live everyday with the memory of my past. If you take my life, whatever you fear, will not bring peace." She gritted her teeth angrily. Her body began to rock back and forth until her eyes rolled behind her head. She plopped to one side in an awkward angle. All remaining strength within her were bound to give way to her exhaustion that Dakota herself mentally scolded herself with a fuck, not again. It was to no surprise that she even had strength to begin with.

The way she looked. The way she spoke. Nikolaos could have killed her right then and there, but something kept him from doing it. Was he afraid of what would happen or of the unknown that kept itself in the shadows? He could sense something watching the woman. Dakota.

Such a strange name.

"I want you gone. Go back to your homeland. Do not stay within Greece any longer." Nikolaos said as he moved his sword. Looking down at the unconscious woman, Nikolaos could not help but feel pity. He will give her mercy for the time being. He walked to her side, kneeling down, he used the sword to free her wrists.

It was a simple relief for her muscles to ease. The bruises and scars on her body were like that of a warrior who has fought many battles. The clothing she wore were no longer going to be of use to her. Nikolaos would have one of his men bring the woman food, drink, and clothing to better suit her journey back home.

For now, there was a battle to be won and a lone mercenary was to join them. Let he prove himself in battle and be a willing ally to do the work only a sword for hire could achieve.

Though, what the wolf did not know, yet, was that his own blood would be coming for his neck. Two wolves could never hold the same mountains. Even Lionheart would not dare enter that fight.


The sound of a raven's croak was heard in the distance.

Flying a great distance, following from above a Spartan army heading further inland. In front of his capable army, the wolf- old, worn, but still deadly, leads his troops to a small encampment. The raven's one eye has been watching the soldiers, for they keep the woman within a large red tent. When the wolf goes off to war, the raven follows. Knowing well that the eagle flies high in the sky and the wolf's pup will bare his fangs.

Father and son.

The battlefield was littered with bodies. The birds above circling, waiting to feed upon the dead. He could feel his legs grown weak and the ache within his bones from the battle had worn him thin. Phobos stood by his master, being his support from collapse. The battle had taken its toll on him, but the strength to carry on was his only choice.

Watching the remaining Spartan soldiers kill the remainders of the weak and dying. The sound of groaning men, waiting to die, could be heard. It won't be long now before the smell of death filled the air with its sweet scent. This day, this victory belongs to the soldiers. Alexios did not feel the need to celebrate, rather he mounted Phobos and proceeded to return back to the Spartan camp that was settled further in. Ikaros soared high into the sky, watching below his master make his journey and the horse that carried him.

The battles of war could leave a soldier weary. It could take its toll upon the body and mind. Killing and taking a life, held no satisfaction. It was survival. You do as you are told. Soldiers listen to command and take it. Compared to Dakota, Alexios was not a soldier. Trained to become one, he never claimed himself to be. Thinking of the stubborn woman, Alexios could only pray that she was safe. Would do him no good if she were hurt or giving someone else trouble.

It is but a dream if she were to be someone else's problem, but she came into his life and he did agree to help her get home. Even if she has become someone who he would rather talk to and banter with from time to time. When he returns to the ship, he will continue to look for her.

Phobos knew where to go, for his master was not concentrating on the road. Ikaros kept his steady gaze and flew far ahead of them to see the camp just nearby. Spartan soldiers covered in the blood of their enemies. Lingering high from battle that they will tell when they can no longer fight with honor. Hail the victor! Hail the dead! If only he could feel such comradery from his own kin.

Let the past be the past.

Was it so easy to just forget? To Alexios, it wasn't. The resentment that he kept would only grow stronger the more he could not see the man who let him fall off the side of a mountain. The mourning and heartbreak of his own mother. The look upon his father's face. No such remorse from a man who loved his children. Such tragedy he kept hidden for so many years.

Alexios proved himself enough to be admired as a sword for hire. A mercenary. A killer. A murderer.

The Spartan stronghold was a live with movement. The Spartans were in a celebratory mood after their victory. A small feat that scratched the surface of a bigger war.

Stentor stood in front of the misthios with a victorious grin upon his lips. Alexios was rather passive about the matter as both men had an unspoken truce. A Spartan soldier had come running towards them, stopping before Stentor.

"The wolf requests the presence of the mercenary." The soldier spoke as he pointed to a high cliff in the distance. Alexios cast his eyes to see a lone figure looking down upon them. The shadow of his father bringing back old memories, that turned into anger. To confront his father after so many years alone, abandoned, a child- this was now his chance.

"We shall be up to him in a moment." Stentor said. The man wanted to savor the victory just a moment longer before he went to tall to the general- his adopted father. Alexios was having a hard time understanding why Nikolaos even wanted to adopt when he was the one that killed his own children. What was the wolf hiding that needed to be addressed?

The soldier hesitated for a moment. How could he put this lightly? "With respect, he wishes to see the mercenary alone."

"What?" Stentor said, as he and Alexios were both caught off guard by the statement. This was his chance. This was an opportunity. His mission called for his fathers death.

But, could you go through with it? That voice in the back of his mind stated. Reasoning with his emotions that to kill his father, it would bring him no joy. Nikolaos might know something or even confess further about his actions that night.

"I said the commander wishes," Stentor walked forwards with an aggressive stance. Cutting off the soldier before he could speak any further. Alexios thought it odd to see this soldier act in such a fashion unbefitting of someone of his rank. He thought for a moment that Stentor would strike the soldier down.

"I heard what you said. I just don't understand why." What was there to understand? Nikolaos wanted to see Alexios alone. Was Stentor jealous and wanting to find approval where there was none? What did his father even see in this soldier?

"Those were his orders sir." The soldier could only answer firmly.

"Very well." Stentor was angry, confused and hurt. Seeing the soldier walk off, the man looked to Alexios who stood there without saying a word. What could he say? He had too much on his mind already.

"It appears that I have other matters to attend too." Stentor walked passed him. Staring at him and walked off.


A/N: I was on a roll with this chapter. Honestly, the past two chapters were killing me. I wasn't sure how I wanted to continue, but I never want to leave a story unfinished. I wasn't going to abandon this story; I actually love writing this story. But, dang, I was kinda burned out for a moment before continuing on with Dakota's journey. I have many ideas for her and how she will be badass again. Right now, its hurdle after pain staking hurdle. Then, we get to see her shed a part of herself she has been holding to since she admitted to herself that she has PTSD.

Oh, do not worry. Once Dakota finds out about her… purpose, well, you will just have to wait and read. I have something planned for that conversation. Cough.

Also want to mention how beautiful Vahalla is? I have a man crush on Eivor. He's fucking beautiful. TT