Milo of Scorpio was friend with everyone.
Or more precisely, he was not close to anyone in particular.
He was often seen playing and bickering with Leo Aiolia, eating lunch with Taurus Aldebaran, sparring with Aries Mu, and chatting with Virgo Shaka, all of whom were prodigies like him who had been promoted as gold saints at tender age of seven.
But in down moments, such as when studying for exams or tired from practice or in need of some quiet, he was most often seen with turquoise-haired, rarely-spoken Aquarius Camus. And when they were together, no one would have suspected the blue-haired boy reading quietly alongside the French youngster as the wild Milo of Scorpio.
Their friendship started when Camus saved Milo's life by preventing the scorpion venom in the boy's right hand from spreading to the rest of his body. Milo finally developed his cosmo enough to control the venom that almost killed him as a child and, with Camus assistance, turn it into signature weapon in not just one, but both of his hands, earning him the Scorpio gold cloth. Camus also helped Milo with his studies and introduced him to finer things such as literature and music, while Milo helped the French boy learn Greek culture and lifestyle and took him to great natural spots around Sanctuary. When they were not hiking or diving in the cliffs, they could be seen learning piano in the auditorium or reading in the steps of Aquarius temple, Milo totally immersed in suspense and detective stories while Camus enjoyed the Greek mythology.
It was a wonder to all as to how they got along in the first place, especially after their rough start. After all, Aquarius and Scorpio were not supposed to be the most compatible of the signs. The two boys, however, had become unexpectedly drawn to each other's differences and found comforting foil to their respective characters in one another. For Camus' part, the day when he cured Milo from his 'symptoms' proved to be the first of gradual unraveling of the enigmatic Scorpio's many layers of personality. Under the cool and harsh exterior, Milo proved to be intensely loyal and passionate, his warmth, curiosity and love of life rubbed on Camus and brought out his spirited, more passionate side, something Camus felt strangely liberating. Milo, on the other hand, had found Camus' calm understanding and detached, quiet demeanor to be strangely comforting, especially when he just had a bad day or simply needed some quiet where he could just drop all pretenses and let his true feelings shown. The Aquarius' quiet yet steady companionship was like a cool breeze that calmed his turbulent emotions and restlessness, bringing out his better, more sensible side. It was therefore no wonder that, despite being social with everyone, Camus was Milo's preferred company in less cheerful days.
Today was one of such days.
The Sanctuary had been shaken by the news that Sagittarius Aiolos, a senior gold saint who was also Leo Aiolia's older brother, had been exterminated for trying to kill the pope and deceive the Sanctuary with fake infant Athena. It was not clear how he was killed, for his body (and the infant) was nowhere to be found, but rumor had it that Shura was the one ordered to do the task. This left Aiolia completely devastated and the other younger gold saints shaken, as Aiolos, who was seven years older than them, had always been a natural-born leader and caring father figure they all looked up to.
Camus had not been in the Sanctuary long enough to know Aiolos as well as Milo and the others, but from his several encounters with the older saint, Camus could not help but develop deep respect and admiration toward him. It was just as unimaginable to him as to everyone else that somebody as kind, honest and brave as Aiolos could fall into such lows.
Camus found Milo beneath the apple tree where they'd first eaten apples together and had since become their unofficial meeting point. He often came there to read, as the tree was located on a small hill that gave him a good vantage point overlooking the whole Sanctuary. Milo usually went there when he needed a listening ear or a quiet company, and whenever Camus saw him there, he knew something wrong had happened.
He sat quietly beside the other boy and for a moment they did not say anything.
"You've heard, haven't you?" Milo asked.
Camus glanced sideways and saw that Milo's eyes were rimmed with red. "Yeah," he said. "How's Aiolia?"
"Beyond consolation," Milo answered. "Aldebaran is with him now."
"It's understandable," Camus said. "Aiolos was his only family, and he loved Aiolia very much."
Milo wiped his nose. "I just can't imagine Aiolos of all people would do that."
"Me neither," Camus agreed. "I haven't known him as long as the rest of you, but even I can't believe he is that sort of person."
"Appearance can be deceiving though," Milo said after a moment, leaning against the tree trunk. "I've learned it from all those mystery books. Often the culprits are those people suspect the least."
"But Aiolos did not have any reason to kill the Pope," Camus thought aloud. "He was bound to succeed Master Shion anyway."
"Yeah," Milo agreed. "If anything, Saga was more likely to do it. He was Aiolos' strongest contender for the papacy."
Camus thought for a minute. "Have you seen him around, by the way?"
"Who, Saga?" Camus nodded. "Not since a couple of days ago, I think. Maybe he is out on a mission." Milo squinted at him. "You're not saying..?"
Camus shrugged. "You said yourself he has more reasons to do it than Aiolos."
"Yeah, but I said if anything. Saga wouldn't have done that. He and Aiolos were good friends," Milo argued. "Even Saga himself once said Aiolos would make a better Pope than him. You were there also, I think."
"I know. I didn't say he was guilty," Camus explained calmly. "I was just considering the possibilities. If appearances can be deceiving, like you said, then I don't see how Saga is any more innocent than Aiolos."
Milo opened his mouth to protest, but realized Camus had a point and shut it again. The two boys sat in silence for a while, thinking over all the possibilities and implications of the incident.
"So I guess this means even the best saints can screw up, huh?" Milo suddenly asked.
"We're humans after all, with so many weaknesses," Camus replied, lost in thought."Even the greatest people in history have fallen into greed, envy, desire for power...like Shaka once said." He paused. "Who knows...we may sit side by side today, but I may try to kill you tomorrow."
Milo let out a small chuckle. "Don't think it will happen."
Camus looked at him, frowning. "How do you know?"
Milo shrugged. "Dunno. You just don't seem like a person who can do evil." He returned the other boy's gaze with his clear, azure blue eyes. "And I am not saying this because you have been good to me. I simply think you won't be easily tempted by all those things Shaka babbled about."
It was rare for Camus to fall silent because of loss for words. All his life he'd been avoided by most children his age, his cold indifference and aloofness made them suspicious of him. But this brash, obstinate boy he did not even like at first believed in him, though they really had only known each other for a short time.
"And what if you are wrong?" He could not help but ask.
Milo did not answer right away as he picked up a ripe apple that had fallen on the ground and wiped it on his tunic. "Then I will do anything in my power to straighten you up, even if it's the last thing I will ever do." He took a big bite. "At least I can do that for you after all you have done for me."
The naked honesty in the Scorpio's words made Camus look away, trying to hide the sudden emotion rising to his throat. "Fair enough."
"And while we're on this subject," Milo said, devouring the last bit of his apple and throwing another at Camus, "can I ask you a favor?"
"What is it?"
Milo stood and looked at him. "If for some reason I ever try to lift a hand against Athena or innocent people," he said, "promise me that you'll lock me in that freezing coffin of yours before I can hurt anybody."
Something like a somber smile tugged at Camus' lips. "You have my word."
Asgard, thirteen years later
He woke with a start and cast a quick look at his surroundings. For a moment he thought he was back in his old bedchamber in the Aquarius temple back at the Sanctuary. But as he took in the bear skin rug below him and the leopard hide covering the bed, he remembered where he was.
The realization drove away what little warmth that had enveloped him during the short dream and brought back the sinking cold.
He had been unable to rest and had sat beside the window, gazing at the stars. As he glanced back to the dark sky, he tried to make out a ruby red twinkle marking the Antares star that had been barely visible a short while ago. But it was already hidden from view, the snowstorm which had previously dissipated had picked up again and blotted the sky with dark clouds.
He turned from the window and lay on his bed, his arms crossed beneath his head. Is he dead then? he thought, not daring to mention the name. With the star disappearing, he could not tell for sure. He had not sensed any familiar cosmo vanishing, though, and the Asgardian soldiers were yet to find a body, so there was still hope.
Or so he wanted to believe.
The short dream he just had still lingered in his conscious mind. He had not recalled that childhood conversation for a long, long time. Oh, he did remember the pact when he came back to the twelve houses as Specter, condemning him as he was forced to ruthlessly attack his comrades and later his close friend with Athena Exclamation. But the details of the memory had become very vague to him, unlike tonight when they came back as clear as day, even down to the smell of sunlight and green grass of the Sanctuary.
Perhaps because, unlike the last time, he could not quite convince himself that he was doing this for the greater good.
He had begun to question himself when he sent Milo flying off the cliff with his Diamond Dust a couple of hours ago. Despite all intentions to keep his former friend alive, was it right to go as far as to injure a former comrade in order to redeem a personal sin? He'd been rationalizing his motives, telling himself that he was indebted to this, that he was trying to do the right thing, that he'd fulfilled his duties as Athena's saint in his first life and even after death and it was now time to keep an unfulfilled promise he'd made far before his sainthood days.
But no matter how he looked at it, it still seemed selfish. Especially since he still wore the Gold Cloth that symbolized where his allegiance lay.
Something tugged uncomfortably at his conscience as he took in the cloth box on the floor before him.
Just then he heard footsteps outside his door. He quickly blew out the candle and made a swift, soundless move to the door.
''Have you found him?" asked an unfamiliar voice from the hall.
"Not yet." It was Surtr. "I'm sure he won't be a problem for the time being, though. After receiving combined attacks from Camus and myself, and in Asgard's land no less, he's lucky if he can survive."
Behind the door, Camus tried to suppress the sudden feeling of self-loathing invoked by the words.
"Are you sure?" The other voice let out a sarcastic snort. ''Have you ever thought that his ice might have cancelled your fire, sparing the Scorpion from fatal injuries?"
"Say what you want, Sigmund," Surtr said evenly. "Camus will not betray me. And I don't think we should worry about the Scorpio, whether he's alive or dead. You know the Gold saints can't even use a tenth of their powers, what with Yggdrasil draining their Cosmo."
The footsteps receeded as the God Warriors continued to walk down the hall, and Camus let himself sag quietly against the wall.
He hoped that Milo, if he was still alive, would get his wordless warning and stay away from the complicated mess he could do nothing about.