I'd Like to Believe

Chapter 8: There's Nothing in This World I Wouldn't Do

A/N: This is where Charis's story ends, at least for this fic. After this expect an epilogue, and the story of Charis of Sparta will continue in a later fic. Thanks for sticking with this everybody! My first ever finished fic HELL YES.

Also for some good musical accompaniment, check 8tracks for the new I'd Like to Believe soundtrack, consisting of songs I used for inspiration and chapter titles. Same name as fic, made by LibraLibrary.

The sun burned bright into the eyes of the Achaeans atop the wall, shining off the water like an intense blaze. Joining the shrill screeching of the restrained Charis, the dual assaults left many soldiers retreating down the stairs, hands clamped over their dragged away Adromache, and several more peeked over the wall, shielding their eyes as they attempted to catch sight of their despicable handiwork. Talthybius had pushed away from the wall, and now crouched in front of Charis. She had gone quiet, shaking like a leaf and avoiding his gaze.

"I'm so sorry, Charis, I'm so so sorry-"

A few noises of disgust rose from the soldiers at the edge, as the sun finally sank below the sea and gave them a good view. Ajax laughed, and Charis was suddenly gripped by the desire to beat Poseidon to the punch. He waved the men restraining her off. "It's done. Leave her; she can't turn that smear into a child if she had the god's gifts herself."

Talthybius expected her to lunge at the man and take him over the battlements with her, but she remained disturbingly still. The last of the men trickled out, and dusk dropped on them like a thick blanket. Before long, the cheers of the men gave way to screaming below, as the enslaved women found the cause of the commotion. Once again, the Trojan night was plagued by mournful wails.

Talthybius patted Charis on the shoulder, then rose to return to the camp and tend to the Queen and Andromache.

It wasn't until his footsteps finally trailed off into nothing that she rose to her feet, swaying dangerously. She cautiously made her way to the edge, and hesitantly glanced over.

"Oh, ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww."

She turned on her heels, shaking her head in disgust as she strode to the stairs. She had tried to hold back her relief until she received visible confirmation, but she wasn't as moronic as the soldiers. Still, when she stepped into the storage room, she couldn't keep from grinning like a fool. "How was I?"

Agamemnon shook his head. "I think I went deaf down here. You sounded like a siren with a sore throat."

Peabody chuckled, wincing as the baby tugged at his ear. "You certainly made my job harder. You scared him worse than the fall."

She laughed, happier than she'd been in a long time, and nearly skipped over. She gently took the child from Peabody's arms, twirling him and drinking in the musical giggles of glee. She hugged him close and tickled his nose, shooting a glance at her king. "I think you should be insulted, Aggy; your men can't tell a pig carcass from a baby."

"Well, not from a distance-"

"BABIES DON'T EXPLODE, AGGY."

Peabody dropped down from his seat by the window, adjusting his glasses. "They also don't know the difference between a time-space warp and some simple pyrotechnics; let's be thankful for that."

Charis smiled. "They were beautiful, though. It was hard to feign panic when I saw them. I was mesmerized."

"They'll be much more prominent about two-thousand years from now."

She snorted. "Well then, better take care of myself; I could live that long."

He shook his head, smiling. "Maybe I'll take you to see them someday."

"I'd like that."

Agamemnon was leaning out the window, squinting to see the now-scorched build site. "I still can't believe how fast those ladies moved that thing! My men didn't even notice!"

"Never underestimate women desperate to save a child, Your Highness," Peabody said, wiping his glasses on his tunic, "and if I may suggest; maybe your men need to learn a little about focusing on the big picture. Or putting aside their bloodlust."

Agamemnon knocked his head on the top of the window, and Astyanax giggled. Charis kissed the baby's head. "Let's go say goodbye to your mama."

It was astounding how easily the small trio blended in after changing clothes. The few men in the streets they passed were too idiotic (or, Charis noticed with blatant disgust, too drunk) to question the agent of Hera holding a baby and being trailed by what appeared to be a small child covered in blankets.

They easily made it to the tent of the last Trojan royals, and Neoptolemus greeted them. He appeared very nervous, especially with Peabody still around, but was visibly less frightened than he had been days before. "She's...she's in there with her mother in law. She hasn't taken it well."

Peabody looked up, making pointed eye contact. "You're aware they intend to have you marry her."

The young man nodded, and Charis patted his shoulder. "Then I trust she'll be well taken care of?"

To this, he nodded harder, and managed a little smile. He pushed open the tent flaps, and ushered them in.

Hecuba glanced up, and her eyes lit up at the sight of her little grandson. She shook the princess's arm. "Andromache," she urged, pushing harder as the woman curled further up into herself, "Andromache!"

In Charis's arms, Astyanax cooed, pleased to see his grandmother and mother. The latter's head snapped up at the sound, and she released a strangled cry when she saw her baby, still whole and well. She crawled over to the group, and reached up as Charis crouched and handed over the little prince. She pulled her son into her chest, sobbing and rocking back and forth. Charis stepped back, and had to wipe away a few stray tears. Peabody took her hand, and shot her a soft smile, which she returned tenfold.

Hecuba had moved to join her remaining family, wrapping her arms around them tightly. Andromache looked at Astyanax, chuckled softly, and turned to give the heroes a bittersweet look. "He...he has to go now, doesn't he?"

Charis bit her lip, glancing away. She was loathe to separate another woman from her child, but there was no other way. She would soon be a wife of Sparta, and as moronic as some of the men were, it was foolish to expect them to not raise a brow over the former Princess attending to a very familiar child. Andromache was well aware of this, and touched her forehead against his, trying to force a smile as she murmured gentle reassurances.

"In my time," Peabody began to explain, "there are several obscure legends that claim he will grow up to become a great king, and the father of many great kings, in Gaul."

Hecuba blinked. "Gaul? The Celts?"

"Exactly. He'll be far from anyone who could ever recognize him and his lineage. Your son will be safe, and, if the stories are correct, will begin a line of royalty that extends for centuries."

Andromache sighed, pecking her child on the head. "A much better life than will ever await him with us."

Hecuba wrapped her arms around her daughter-in-law's shoulders, and the three sat there for a moment, the last survivors of a dying family. The only hope they had left to hold onto were the promises of a strange dog that the last son of their throne would eventually siton one of his own. They held onto that hope for the remainder of their lives, even as they handed over the child to the Spartan woman with the peacock feather in her hair.

The horse bounded over a small rock as if it had been a massive boulder, tearing up the soil as it landed. The young stallion charged across the landscape like a hellbeast tracking a sinner, snorting and tossing his mane. Charis laughed excitedly, seemingly maintaining control over the animal by being as wild as it was. Astyanax shrieked with joyful laughter born of thrill, and Peabody found himself the onlyone of the group with the sense of mind to hold tight to the child and the woman.

Oh sure, the ride was a breathtaking adventure. But for god's sake, it would be a miracle if they made it to the substitute WABAC in one piece if the horse kept acting up. Charis seemed to take notice, and laughed at him. "What, we've gotten this far and you choose now not to trust me?"

Peabody lurched forward as the horse clambered up and over a small hill, having to constantly readjust his arm around the squirming child between the riders. "Oh, I trust you, Charis! I don't trust the horse!"

She stuck out her tongue, and the horse snorted in what sounded almost like conscious derision. "He's fast, he jumps high, and the soldiers won't miss my personal horse. Sorry, but he's our best option. Man up!"

He rolled his eyes, but managed to smile. She was right; they had been riding for over an hour and still had no pursuers, and were making good time. And he had to admit, seeing the Trojan scenery whip past as the animal fled into the night was breathtaking. They had won. The baby was safe, and he would soon be home. Everything was finally falling into place, and the night air couldn't have felt lighter.

The horse skidded to a stop, and the dog nearly fell off. Charis instinctively reached back to keep her passengers on, and gestured with her other arm. "Your chariot awaits, oh messenger of the gods."

Peabody handed over the child, sliding down off the animal and wandering over to the scaffolding. He was astounded; it had only taken the women and loyal soldiers a few hours to dismantle and reassemble the whole rig. Everything was ready; his calculations were written inside, and a torch sat off to the side, ready to ignite the fuel.

Peabody turned to look at his human companions, unable to withhold the gratitude written all over his features. Charis leaned down, plucking her feather out of her curls and quickly affixing it to his glasses frame. Before he could protest, she winked. "Take care of that for me. I have others, and I doubt anyone could say truthfully they've done more in Hera's service than you."

The dog was beaming with pride. He had won countless awards in his time, but he doubted he could name any honor greater than he received from that little feather. Little Astyanax reached forward, patting him on the nose as he gurgled happily. "Peadoggy!"

Peabody felt a nostalgic pang in his chest, and he ruffled the child's hair. "Yes, Peadoggy. Peadoggy has to go now. Be good to Charis, alright, your highness?"

The child screeched with laughter, clapping his little hands. He took that as a yes, and Charis returned to her seated position with the child on her lap. "I only plan to stay with the Celts until I know he's found a good family. I'm not looking forward to what awaits me when I return, but Sparta is still my home."

Peabody nodded. "I understand. Thank you, Charis. For everything."

She shook her head. "I helped you up a cliff and organized builders. You saved a baby. You win this round."

The duo chuckled, and the baby cooed. The pair smiled at each other, their victories bittersweet. Charis felt a small tremor in her voice as she spoke. "Goodbye, Peabody. Good luck with your son."

He smiled. "And good luck with him."

The dog and the horse turned, and Peabody scaled the structure. At the last second, an old thought resurfaced, and he turned to shout after her. "I was;t lying, you know!"

The horse halted, and she turned in her seat, confused. He continued. "I really do know your name from somewhere. I am almost certain I've read of a Spartan Charis before, honestly. Someone in my time knows you were here!"

The dark and distance obscured her face slightly, but the sparkle in her eyes glinted like a precious stone lit by fire. "Of course someone does! You do!"

With that, she nudged the horse, and it charged forward into the darkness. Peabody laughed freely, heartened by her enthusiasm. She would be just fine; eventually the child would be safe in Gaul, and she'd be on her way home. Agamemnon would protect her as long as he could, and after that? Well, she was a survivor. She'd take her happiness from those who would withhold it, and spread it to those who needed it.

That was who Charis of Sparta was.

The young stallion thundered forth for a strange land, and as the trio topped a hill, the night sky behind the lit up with sparks and streaks. They paused to watch the sphere lift up into the air, and with a thundering boom, it vanished in a glorious display.

Charis grinned, ruffling the hair of the awestruck child, and the horse once again took off.