It had to be around noon when, just like earlier today, and yesterday, and two days ago, Kyrillos closed the door of the empty barn behind him and headed back to the house.
Maybe it was time to drop it; if the boy was supposed to come back, he would, eventually.
He made sure his wife didn't know about this, about how he would check the barn every now and then; he didn't want to hear the nagging and the contemptuous blabbering he'd already heard his share of — about how some men were just unreliable drunks.
It wasn't the case here, even if the kid was indeed passed out drunk somewhere at that very moment.
Kyrillos knew a heartbreak when he saw one, and numbing the pain with alcohol was just but a human way to cope.
Poor kid.
Kyrillos didn't know what it was, but something got him so drawn to this young man that he had hardly even spoken to since they'd met, and that feeling was now gnawing at his gut for some inexplicable reason, and he knew the only way for it to stop was to see the boy come back.
As much as it might have seemed unreasonable to still expect it to happen after three days since they last saw Arkadios — Kyrillos had a very strong feeling that the boy would be back. He would. It was just a matter of time. And Kyrillos had time.
In the meantime, it was now time to go and check on the very cause of the heartbreak.
Reaching the door of the room their guest was staying in, Kyrillos stopped for a moment, wondering whether she was asleep. Not wanting to wake her, he decided to knock quietly and just once.
"Come in," a female voice answered. The voice sounded sleepy and tired, but the steely vibe to it made the words sound more like an order; and the one it wouldn't be wise to ignore.
He couldn't help a smile; somehow, that was exactly the type of woman he would've pictured Arkadios to fall for.
He entered the room, wondering if to close the door behind him or not. Deciding to leave them open, his eyes rested on the woman half-sitting in bed.
He had only caught a short glimpse of her before, back when Arkadios had arrived here with her three days ago. Now that he had a chance to take a better look, it was quite a sight. The sharp beauty of her features wasn't diminished even by the overall poor state she was in. The icy blue of her eyes was so piercing that a man would think twice whether it was safe to approach in the first place. Kyrillos smiled inwardly.
"Morning," he started, "or rather, afternoon, if we wanna stick to the clock."
"I stopped measuring time a while ago." There was exasperation in her voice, hope and concern in her eyes. Since it was the first time Kyrillos visited her, she probably anticipated bad news.
"He'll be back," Kyrillos said with a certainty that visibly confused her, judging by the furrowed brows.
"I'm not his mother… he's a grown man and free to do as he pleases," she said in a flat voice, feigning indifference and lack of emotion — and she was good at it, but Kyrillos couldn't be fooled. He could see through people quite well; the intimidating beauties were no exception.
"You didn't ask how I know he'll be back."
"That's because you can't know it," she sent him a steely glare that might have sent him packing if he'd been thirty years younger. Today it took a bit more than that to intimidate him.
"You know, the other day when I met you two up on that mountain trail, you didn't see his face, you were asleep; I did, and I took a very good look. You looked like a ghost, but he didn't look much better. Very rarely can you see a man look so crushed, holding a woman in his arms, but if you do, it's because losing her scares the life out of him, I'll tell you that… and that only happens when she's the woman he would die for," Kyrillos summed up, watching the steel-blue glare soften, the tight-lipped expression relaxing into the one of tenderness, and that told Kyrillos more than words would have. Even though the expression swiftly morphed into the previous sharp one, the quickened rise and fall of her chest remained.
"Look — I don't know what's gone wrong between you kids — and it ain't none my business — but I gotta tell you something I noticed… that guy — he can't live without you, and he is miserable as hell and currently probably passed out drunk somewhere, probably because of it — but he'll be back — and he won't apologize — but he loves you, he just doesn't know how to do it right — maybe he's never loved before — just saying."
Kyrillos noticed that the raven-haired woman wasn't looking at him anymore; her eyes were cast down, her jaw tense, a hardly noticeable shimmer of a wet trail on her face.
That he hadn't expected.
But he liked what he saw.
#
He woke up all sweaty and glanced around, blinking.
Great, so it now came to this — he slept in a barn, buried in hay, like a damn pig.
Damn Zeus and his punishments; how come Apollo was never brought to justice for any of his transgressions?
His back ached, his neck ached; the sharp needles of hay made his skin itch, making him scratch it till it burned. Still, pain was better than itchiness.
He wished he hadn't woken up.
A moment later it was painfully clear that he hadn't.
He jolted awake with a start. The damn dream again. It was always so vivid; the Olympus meeting of the Twelve, with Ares the culprit and Zeus about to decide on how to punish his estranged son this time, for yet another random breach of Olympic rules of conduct.
He sighed, letting his head fall to his chest.
He'd never thought it would come to this, but gods, how he wished to live that dream; even if it meant Zeus being alive, fuck it — even if — hell, even if fucking Hercules was to live on Olympus as one of them — he wouldn't have cared — it still would've been better than the reality he now woke up to on daily basis.
Olympus… Alecto.
He grimaced at the memory of last night. She had surprised him — he hadn't actually thought she was going to take him to Olympus. He had to admit — it felt exhilarating to try Zeus' throne for size, it did — until he looked to his left and saw Alecto in Hera's throne. He cringed at the memory.
If he were to take the throne of the King of the Gods, there was only one woman that he would have wanted there next to him as his wife.
Alecto wasn't that woman.
He felt a sudden rush of some unspecified emotion.
He had to see her.
Getting up to his feet, he stretched his neck and back, mindful to do it slowly; he had once done it too abruptly and ended up being way worse off than before the stretching.
He walked out the huge wooden door and just stood there for a while, squinting in the sun, a pleasantly warm breeze drying the sweat covering his forehead. The air smelled like something sweet; a bit like ambrosia.
Ambrosia… Alecto was trying to bait him with it — and he was going to stall her for now, to protect Xena — but this option of getting his godhood back was out of the question.
He wondered if it still made sense to go back to his army camp.
No, they couldn't have been there anymore, what was left of them anyway. He would need to come back to the Amazon forest with new troops, to pick up where he had left off, to fight his way through the Amazons and get the damn ambrosia stash his sister Artemis claimed they had hidden in that forest — which was bound to be there — it had to be there, he could feel it in his bones, contrary to what Alecto had said — of course she would've said that, trying to make him believe she was his only hope to regain immortality, the sneaky bitch.
Yes, he would attack the Amazons and kill them all to the very last one of them, if it came to that — and he knew it would — until he got his hands on what he needed. In the meantime, he could go on fucking Alecto and stringing her along with promises of Olympus.
Xena would of course learn about everything eventually and hate him for it, but what did it matter — she didn't want him anyway, and he needed to get his life back. If it meant disappointing Xena — well, he shouldn't give a damn about that, not anymore.
It was time to get a hold of that weakness; it was what had brought him to his current misery in the first place.
He hesitated; he didn't feel like seeing Xena anymore.
Then, hearing the muffled sounds of rustling grass in the distance, he looked to his right.
Great.
He didn't feel like seeing that woman even more.
"My husband told me I might find you here, if anywhere," Pelagia said, approaching, using her hand to shield her face from the sun which he now noticed was way too low for the morning. He must have slept all day. "We didn't think you were coming back."
"Morning," he mumbled with an audible lack of enthusiasm. Why would they think he wasn't coming back? Coming back from where?
"More like afternoon, and a late one at that," Pelagia flashed him an acid smile. He noticed she often did that — smiled without looking at him. "Your wife also took her time to sleep, she only just woke up."
His heart skipped a beat.
"How is she?" he breathed, a knot forming in his chest.
"She's been asking about you for the last three days — she didn't take it too well when I told her her husband had disappeared — and I don't blame her," Pelagia raised a brow at him. "I wouldn't want to be in your skin now, young man."
He was so lost in thought he didn't notice the waterskin being handed to him until it was right under his nose, making him tilt his head back.
"Here's some water; your skin looks dry, you should drink more."
"Thanks." Ares looked at the vessel in his hand absent-mindedly.
Wait, what? Three days? They arrived just yesterday. He shook his head, surprised at how heavy it was.
He needed to see her.
"Don't even think about it," Pelagia warned, making his heart skip another beat. "I ordered her to go back to sleep for at least another hour or two. Don't give me that look, boy — it'll give you a great opportunity to help my husband with the chores while I'm out."
"You're leaving?"
"Oh, don't get too content about it, I'm just off to the neighbors', their daughter's coming down with flu; I'll be back before you know it." Did she just wink at him? He groaned, waiting for her to walk away to a safe distance before he started to make his own reluctant way to the house.
He wanted to be alone.
Actually, he just felt like walking back to the barn and going back to sleep.
#
He opened the door but, before entering the house, stopped at the porch, unable to look away from the sun.
He didn't know why sunsets made him think of her and drown in such misery. Then again, didn't everything else, recently?
The sky was clear blue, the sun deep orange, with several orange clouds around; like every afternoon, yet different.
It suddenly unnerved him that even the sun, which he now came to depend on to set a rhythm to his new life — the one thing that had always used to seem an unquestionable constant, reliable and predictable — still changed its faces daily.
He glanced at the door behind him. Knowing she was in there, so close, was both elating and dreadful, making him want to both rush to her side and walk away from here as he stood.
He could still do it.
"I knew it you'd come back," a very happy, somewhat familiar voice snapped him out of his reflections, making him turn back. Standing in the doorway was Kyrillos, smiling from ear to ear. "Come on in, son, you need to eat something."
The kitchen of the establishment looked like any other room; maybe apart from the wooden table in the middle, with long benches on each side, and all the pots and pans on the walls.
He was so caught up in the events of the previous day that he had indeed completely forgotten to eat. Being reminded of it now made it suddenly very hard to keep on standing. He collapsed on the nearest bench, resting his elbows on the table, burying his forehead in his hands.
He had a feeling he was going to be fed, but not knowing how to approach the subject, he gripped his head and let the awkward silence go on undisturbed. Then, a mug full of some unspecified beverage appeared on the table in front of him.
"Cheers," said Kyrillos, coming to his rescue yet again.
He was starting to like the guy. Definitely way more than the wife.
Actually, he felt sorry for the old chap. Having a wife like Pelagia had to be a tough journey to take, to say the least.
Ares realized there was something expected of him to do, seeing as the old man raised his mug in the air towards him in a gesture he wasn't familiar with. He grabbed the mug and smelled the white foamy surface, instantly recognizing the familiarity of the liquid. He'd had several run-ins with it back when he was mortal. It would get one on a good high but there'd be a price to pay for the whole of the following day — that he remembered too well. "Cheers," he said, lifting the mug to mimic the gesture before letting the bitter, cool liquid flood his mouth. That might be just what he needed to make this day more bearable.
"I can see you're definitely not one of them blabbermouths," Kyrillos said. "I respect that," he added, setting his mug down on the table after taking a long first swig.
Working on his own mug in silence, Ares glanced at the old man that was sitting across the table, the white trace of foam adorning the edge of the grey moustache. This mortal, a stranger, managed to make him feel nothing but at ease for all the not so many hours he'd known him for. It was like he was just there, but not in the way. He made him feel at ease with all the awkwardness of his new mortality, didn't nag, and — unlike some other inhabitants of the house — didn't make him want to fry him alive. None of those things was something Ares would have expected — if he'd ever given it any thought before — and yet, here he was, sitting at a table with a stranger he only just met, not a word between them, and feeling more relaxed than he'd ever had around his own family back on Olympus.
He wasn't sure what to make of it. It brought comfort, and yet disturbed him in a way.
For some reason, his thoughts drifted off to his parents.
He didn't think about them too often, not since their deaths; at least he tried not to.
A big part of him was glad they were gone.
Another, much smaller one, reminded him that with Zeus gone, Ares was out of chances to try to prove himself to his father and earn his respect.
Not that he cared for it for the sake of self-gratification, no — he just thought it would've been a nice touch before he would've eventually offed the old man to keep the good old family tradition going.
Also, it would've been a nice way to spit in the face of the apple of Dad's eye, his pain-in-the-ass goodie-two-shoes half-brother Hercules, a bastard son of Zeus that the old man loved and respected so much there was nothing left for him — Ares — the legitimate son of the King and Queen of the gods, a god whose power was respected all over Greece and beyond.
And then, there was his mother, Hera; the mother he used to respect, the one parent that never told him he was their most hated child; the mother who used to be his all-time ally against Hercules.
The very same mother who in the end betrayed him by siding with Hercules; remembering how that story ended, it made his blood boil.
That was pretty much why he didn't quite enjoy trips down memory lane with dear Mom and Dad.
Also, it made him feel pathetic to care in the first place.
Thinking of it now when he felt the alcohol loosen his grip on his already unhinged emotions was making him feel shittier than ever.
"I can see something's bothering you, son," Kyrillos' voice brought him back to the present, and he welcomed it with a sigh of relief. Somehow, something about it, this moment, felt like escaping the cold, rainy weather by stepping inside a warm inn.
Fuck yes, something was bothering him — he had lost his family, his job, he was homeless, and the woman he couldn't live without had shown him she would've rather died than be with him.
And he had a feeling that him having tried to kill her just the other day wasn't exactly helping his case.
And now, instead of an afternoon cup of nectar in his Olympus quarters, he was gods knew where, sweaty and exhausted, sitting at a table with a random mortal guy he'd just met, and waiting for the inevitable — for Xena to tell him to get lost once she recovered from how he'd almost killed her.
Funny, how — especially considering all of the above — sitting here now, he was still having a better time and felt more at home than he'd ever had with his family back on Olympus.
He lifted the mug to finish his ale and, raising it in the air, he instinctively moved away as some of the liquid spilled on the table in front of him; he must have missed Kyrillos refilling it.
The old man wasn't giving up yet. "Your folks still alive?"
"Nope," Ares responded, unballing his fists in the air.
"Sorry about that," Kyrillos offered somberly.
"Oh, no need, good riddance," Ares snorted bitterly, his eyes glued to the brink of his mug.
"Many a folk would tell you it's wrong to say that — I'm not one of them myself, though." Kyrillos reached for his mug, shaking his head. "You don't choose your parents, and let's just say this — it can be a very sad thing if you draw the wrong ones," he added knowingly. "So, all I wanna say is that — I got you, kid, no worries. Lemme get us another round, whaddaya say, huh?" the old man smiled warmly and stood up with effort, taking both empty mugs with him.
Ares just sat there, his mind roaming around nowhere in particular and everywhere at once, a lump growing in his throat for some reason, when he was suddenly interrupted by the sound of the familiar vessel refilled with golden liquid for the — he didn't know which time — landing under his nose again.
"Thanks," he said, and for some reason, this time it didn't feel awkward to say it at all.
"Don't mention it, son. You're my guest and you've had a rough couple of days, so just take your time and chill; there will be time to worry about everything else later," Kyrillos added reassuringly. "Including that little trouble you brought here in your arms," the old man smiled under his nose, pointing his chin towards the hall where the other rooms were; which suddenly reminded him about Xena, that she was here, with him.
He heard the old man chuckle heartily. "There you go, just one mention of the missus and it's the first time I see you smile today!"
Embarrassed as he suddenly felt, after a second he just let it go — there was something just so disarming about the way the old guy laughed that made everything just natural.
Kyrillos went on. "You know, she's been worried with you disappearing for three days like that."
"Three days?" Ares was dumbstruck, hearing the same thing he'd heard from Kyrillos' wife earlier. Did they all lose their marbles? "We only arrived just yesterday…"
"Oh, boy…" Kyrillos said, drawing in a breath. "Sorry to break it to ya, son, but that was three days ago."
"No fucking way…" But how? Unless… The last thing he remembered, he was on Olympus, with Alecto.
He froze when he thought of possible scenarios.
"You guys been married long? Got any kids?" Kyrillos asked, obviously deciding to drop the annoying subject of three days missing, for which Ares was silently grateful.
"It's complicated," Ares responded right away, surprising himself.
"Oh, I bet it is, son. It always is, with that kind of women, if you know what I mean."
"Not really." Ares wasn't sure what Kyrillos meant, and so he preventively shot the old man a glare to check for any sign of potential disrespect towards Xena that might have been included in the statement, but all he found were the tired old eyes that were smiling at him with disarming kindness.
"Beautiful and strong — that kind of woman is a tough journey to take," Kyrillos mused, leaving Ares puzzled with how he just used the exact same expression Ares himself had thought earlier about Kyrillos' wife. Wait, was he comparing Xena to the old hag?
"You see, beauty and strength in a woman is a great combination, it's admirable; but at the same time not easy on us men folk; you see, a woman beautiful and fragile is easy to please — you offer your strength and protection, and she makes you feel like a man, see what I mean?" Kyrillos paused for a swig. "So yeah, see what I mean? Where was I… so um… well, that's what I would tell my son if I had one."
"You don't have children?" Ares' curiosity instantly got the better of him, the alcohol clearly taking a bigger part in the conversation than he realized.
"Nah, we tried for years, until it was too late — we got too old and just had to take it for what it was…"
Ares realized it was the first time he saw the old man sad. He also realized that it was the first time he felt uncomfortable in the old man's company.
"I don't get it — what's the big damn deal about having children?" he asked, mostly hoping that it would make the sad face go away, but partly because he was actually curious. He never understood all the fuss that was made about reproduction by both gods and mortals alike, apart from the obvious — an offspring being legacy, that is.
"Not that I can tell you a lot about it, mind you, but here's what I figure," Kyrillos lifted his index finger in the air, taking another swig and coming back with refilled mugs before Ares had time to blink.
"So here's how I see it, son — if you meet a woman that you know is the one — and this way you'll know she's the one, by the way — it gives you as much as even carnal pleasure to imagine her pregnant with your seed, nursing your child; you see yourself holding them little critters in your arms, hearing them call you dad; you imagine what they would look like, how much of her and yourself you'll see in them, and I guess it just makes you happy… that's my take on it."
Ares pondered the old man's words for a moment, trying to apply the mentioned criteria to himself. He never felt this way about any of the offspring he sired, not even those he knew and kept track of. He did value some of them to an extent, those who made good warriors; but he never raised them, he met them when they were grown up. And pregnant women weren't really his thing. That is, until he saw Xena pregnant with Eve; that sight had then accompanied him in many of his private moments. It was embarrassing how many times he would imagine the child was his.
His thoughts were interrupted by an outbreak of laughter so happy he almost joined in reflexively.
"There you go again, hah — got'ya! Come on, you won't fool me! Won't fool the old man! You were actually imagining having a kid with her, yes you were, and you were smiling, and you know why?" Kyrillos paused to compose himself from the drunkish laughter. "Because you loved what you saw, son. Your face was — oh, you should have seen your face." Kyrillos was smiling with not just his face, with all of himself; just watching him Ares felt his own face melt into the expression uncontrollably. "Your face, it was beaming, like the sun," Kyrillos laughed merrily again, "And it still is, boy," he added with a twinkle of tease in his eyes.
Ares couldn't believe what in the world was going on. He was sitting here with this stranger, talking about having kids, and he — Ares — was loving it.
"And you know what that means, son," Kyrillos said on more of a serious note. "If thinking about having a kid with her makes your stomach flutter and your face smile like that — she's the one, son — end of story. And no matter what — you do not let her get away."
Ares found it unsettling how Kyrillos knew about the stomach thing, but other than that — he was ready to officially own up to everything else, the old man was right. But then again, he didn't need that line of questioning to know she was the one; the only one that made him have those urges. Still, the wisdom of the old man's words intrigued him.
He never thought about things this way. Asking Xena to have his child — that he did — though, he had a feeling that Xena would have probably worded it differently — but he never actually saw past that. It never occurred to him to make his thoughts drift in a direction that was now so obvious. Was this another side effect of mortality?
Then again, it was a waste of time to be thinking about it.
Suddenly, he was angry at the old man for doing this, for making him dwell on the idea that he would never live to see.
At the same time, there was this annoying feeling that told him that he himself could have been the one to blame for such state of the matters; but it was hard to focus on any of those thoughts as they were all dissolving in his mind and blending into so many others, all of it starting to make him dizzy.
"I fucked it up," he mumbled, bringing the mug to his mouth only to discover with despair that, now that he needed it to be full so badly, it was empty. Burying his face in his palms, he stared inside the empty mug, wondering why it was making him feel so miserable. "Since the first time I saw her, I knew I had to make her mine. And she'd always get away… and then she hated me, and when I saw her dead — I knew, but it was too late, and now it's too late… but I can't… everything's just… I can't… but when she's not there it's like… nothing makes sense anymore, but when she's there… I — I can't do anything…"
"It's killing you to see her leave, but your pride won't let you ask her to stay," Kyrillos offered, as if it had been the most obvious thing in the world, leaving Ares agape.
"Something like that. I tried to make her mine, but now… it means nothing if…" Ares paused, trying to hold onto the dispersing thought.
"It means nothing if she doesn't love you back," the old man stated with calm, resigned confidence, reading his mind again. What the hell was up with all the mindreading? It was so mindfucking to see mortals wield such powers when he himself didn't wield any, he thought, burping.
"Nothing means nothing… means anything… doesn't," Ares concluded with a loud exhale, agreeing with his interlocutor wholeheartedly. "I … she can't know about this," Ares muttered, suddenly sobered up by the thought of Xena seeing him like this, all mushy and pathetic.
"See, that's what I told you about them women, son — beautiful and fragile will make you feel like a man, but them beautiful and strong — that's when you're done for — that one will make you have to prove yourself to be a man enough for her for the rest of your life, and sometimes it might include swallowing your pride and asking her to stay; but then again — if she's the one, you will swallow your damn pride and do it, cause you damn well know that no one else will ever scratch that itch the way she does."
Again, Ares was perplexed if not annoyed by how this mortal, a stranger, suddenly knew all this stuff about him and Xena, that he — Ares, a god — had spent ages trying to figure out and had almost nothing to show for it. Yeah, yeah, this should probably freak him out and piss him off, but somehow, the only thing he felt now was relief, relief and some strange but pleasant sense of comfort.
And just like that — yet again — the old hag had to come and spoil his fun right when he was only just starting to have a good time.
He took out a deep breath and let out a long loud exhale.
But, for the first time in days — it was an exhale of things being just fine.
