Kyrillos knew he had to take Arkadios away from the house for the time being. He wanted to take him hunting but it was too far into the afternoon for that.
But it wasn't too late to go fishing.
That would provide them with both solitude and something to focus on.
He chose a lake shore that was about a halfway through the village. It was wild enough to be vacant but still hospitable enough to be able to sit and chill, feet in water. The walk would do them good as well.
They were walking side by side, in silence. He didn't need to see Arkadios' face to know what was going on inside. He saw it back at the stables; the rage in the way his back and jaw muscles flexed, the misery in his rapid breathing. Kyrillos knew exactly what the boy was going through. He also knew that it didn't matter — loss was a lesson each had to learn on their own, taking their own time to process it. Arkadios was only about to embark on this journey, its length depending on various factors, like whether his and the raven-haired one's ways would cross again. For the sake of his fatherly feelings for the boy, Kyrillos wouldn't wish that to happen; yet being a wise man that had seen his share of life and learned a few lessons of his own, he knew the misery didn't end then and there; in his gut he felt it was about to drag on for a nasty little while; and he just wished to be there for the boy — like a father that Arkadios never had, to a son that Kyrillos had never been blessed with.
And just like that, they were there.
Kyrillos took off his boots, rolling up his pants up to his knees and, with a loud sigh, sat himself down on the short grass of the bumpy shore, his feet making a splashing sound as they touched the water below. He knew Arkadios would join him in a while. The boy had his own paths like cats did, he thought, smiling under his mustache.
Poor guy was obviously drawn to them cats too, Kyrillos sighed heavily, thinking back to the still fresh moment back at the stables. Today was the first time Kyrillos had a chance to see her out and about; he was simply just curious — what it took, to keep a man like Arkadios on strings like that, for so long — for years. Surely it wasn't just the never-ending chase factor, nor the physical beauty on its own — Arkadios was too sophisticated to be enslaved solely by what was enough to keep them regular folk on their toes. Kyrillos knew there was more.
Another reason he had waved at her to join them was to see them interact, to look into where the problem was truly rooted.
The first thing he'd noticed was her reluctance to join them.
Kyrillos knew it had nothing to do with him but everything to do with Arkadios; probably an aftermath of the fight from the previous night, the noise of which had managed to wake Kyrillos up and keep him awake for a little while. The noises first came from the stables and then moved to the inside of the house; that was when he caught a few words; a few words too many.
From the sound of it, she had been quite devastated but rather reserved, and Arkadios had been quite like what he'd acted today toward the blonde girl, Gabrielle — stabbing where it hurt and drinking in the sight of blood spilling. It had been quite nasty to hear, both last night and this afternoon; Kyrillos' heart had gone out to Gabrielle at that very moment — seeing that beloved little face morph from smile to horror made his eyes glossy.
Interestingly enough — Arkadios had seemed to enjoy the girl's pain while it lasted, but as soon as she had left, he went on to suffer a breakdown of his own.
That was when it became most obvious, why he'd acted the way he did; obvious to Kyrillos, that is, but quite likely very much unobvious to Arkadios himself.
Kyrillos planned on bringing up the subject later on, when the boy's rage subsided some more. And it seemed they were on a good way there, Kyrillos smiled as he felt a loud thud of a heavy body collapsing next to him, followed by a splash of heavy feet hitting the water surface.
Kyrillos kept to himself for the time being, giving him space. It was good enough Arkadios joined him, the further steps would come in due time. Like taming a wild animal, Kyrillos smiled under his nose.
His thoughts went back to the raven-haired cause of his companion's misery. Xena, her name was. Did ring a bell, that name. He had heard of a Xena, way back in the day; a warlord woman who'd made men tremble at the very sound of her name, who'd then turned her life around to atone for her sins; he'd even once come across a scroll about her, by one of the many bards that sang about her all over Greece back in the day; there was even a chance it was still there, stored in his collection somewhere, he'd have to check — but the raven-haired beauty was way too young to be that Xena. Although, there was something about her that eerily resonated with his mental image of the warlord — there was something sharp and deadly about her — and, which Kyrillos found interesting — undisguisable even when she strolled barefoot through the grass in a country-girl dress. He instantly knew this was what Arkadios was drawn to like a moth to a flame.
Another thing he observed was their chemistry. It was one of the strongest imaginable; regardless of what the current feelings between them were, the strength of how they were affected by each other was striking. Now that — the chemistry — most of the time in life, in most lives, it was short-lived. Those two, however, were cursed with the rare kind of chemistry; the one that never wore off; the unfortunate kind, that — once found — couldn't be found again.
That was exactly what Kyrillos feared the case was; that was what he meant when he told Arkadios that no one else would ever scratch that itch. It was a double-edged sword — a blessing if they could stay together, a torturous curse if they couldn't. Kyrillos, on his part, had been at both sides of the blade, so he knew all the joy and pain about it there was to know. Now, at his current life stage, he wished he hadn't; he would've traded it off anytime, for a chance to live his life without that haunting experience. Could've been why he'd taken to the boy that instantly; having instinctively felt he met a fellow sufferer. Took one to know one.
That was also the reason why — against his better judgment — deep inside, he believed there could still be a chance to work at what those kids had, even if they thought there wasn't any. Them young kids like that are prone to despair and lack the calm judgement at times, at crucial times.
Maybe that was why the Fates had put him on Arkadios' path.
For Kyrillos it was too late, but maybe there was still time to save the boy from following the path of wrong choices that Kyrillos had taken in his own youth.
Glancing sideways, he noticed a sudden disruption in his companion's posture; Arkadios' back straightened and he froze, as if trying to hear something. Seconds later, Kyrillos heard it himself. Sounds of the hooves. Not an unusual sound at all. Only these were the sounds of a furiously-galloping horse.
The sounds reached them from the other side of the patch of the forest behind their backs, and faded as fast as they came.
Kyrillos could see that Arkadios' shoulders tensed.
Then, they heard a horse neighing and water splashing, quite far to their left. Kyrillos squinted; there was a rider stepping into the water.
A female rider.
Kyrillos sighed. Oh, boy. He was really looking forward to a peaceful, sober evening, for a change. Judging by how Arkadios' arms tensed another notch, it looked like it wasn't in the cards anymore.
"She'll be back," Kyrillos said, his eyes following the rider's more and more distant silhouette. Her posture spoke a lot, too. "She needs to let off steam, too. Trust me, son, she's not doing any better than you are."
"That is not my problem," Arkadios responded, his brows furrowed, his lips pursed. Then, suddenly, his eyes widened. "Fuck…"
"What's wrong, son?"
"I forgot to tell her… about the spell…" Arkadios buried his head in his hands with a loud growl. "Nothing, doesn't matter. You were saying?"
Kyrillos sighed. "I saw the way she was looking at you, back at the stables, you know?"
"Oh yeah? What, like she felt sorry for how pathetic I am?"
"I kept talking to her, but she wouldn't hear a word of it; she only saw you."
"Right, she was concerned my wound got infected; she has that malfunction that she needs to help the weak, to repent for her past."
"Why do you think she sees you as weak, son?" Kyrillos decided to risk the direct question. Silence followed. Well, he didn't really count on an answer — it was quite probable Arkadios didn't know the answer himself.
And yet — the answer came.
"I used to be… different. She knows me from a different world, different life."
"I assumed as much."
"You did?"
"I'm not blind, son; I saw it that you weren't used to a simple life like this. You're starting to adapt, but I can tell it's been quite of a drag for ya."
"That's a mild way to put it," Arkadios exhaled.
"I know it ain't easy, son. But it's a path you're on now, gotta make the best of it, regardless of whether or not you will get your old life back."
"The funny thing is, I gave it up, to save her life," Arkadios huffed. "Now she feels she owes me, so she'll try to get it back for me. I as much as asked her for help. The thing is, once I get my old life back, she won't be in it. Not the way she is now."
Kyrillos exhaled, troubled.
This was the first time Arkadios opened up to him like that, and it moved him; the picture that the boy's words painted, though — the complexity of it was starting to look quite grave.
"I take it she's not too supportive of your old life, then."
Arkadios smirked. "She used to live it herself for years. I remind her of it so she needs to hate me by protocol."
"How much do you really want your old life back, son?"
Arkadios lifted his chin. "It's more than life; it's who I am, what I was born to do."
"If she's not in it — would you still go back now, if you could?" Kyrillos questioned further.
His answer was silence.
"You would rather suffer this life with her than thrive in your old life without her."
Arkadios kept silent. Kyrillos understood; those were not the easiest things for a man to admit even in front of himself; even more so for a proud guy like Arkadios.
"You have hurt her in the past, and she doesn't trust you," Kyrillos assumed, and the ongoing silence answered him better than words would.
"Her little friend isn't exactly helping in that department."
"I believe you would be surprised," Kyrillos smiled mysteriously. "I know about people, son; and believe me when I tell you this — that little blonde girl, she is of a heart so pure it shines through her eyes and blinds you — she is one of them rare folk who will always put the happiness of their loved ones above their own comfort. If you make her friend happy, she will see it and support it," Kyrillos paused, to let that settle in. "That is to say — if you make her friend miserable like you did this afternoon — that ain't gonna go unnoticed, either."
Kyrillos waited for his words to sink in before working his way up to the big topic; he saw sideways that the boy was processing what he heard. Kyrillos took this time to put his thoughts together in a way that wouldn't come across judgmental or patronizing, and just as much neutrally informative as possible; he knew his interlocutor well.
"Look, son — I ain't gonna judge you, I ain't gonna tell you what to do; all I can do is offer you my thoughts on the matter — as I believe it is sometimes helpful to see things from a different perspective," Kyrillos said, as a matter of disclaimer. "I was watching that lil' exchange you had with the blonde girl this afternoon. You stabbed her in the heart and then twisted the blade to make it hurt double; and then you watched her bleed, and you reveled in it. And correct me if I'm wrong, but something tells me that you might have just followed a very similar pattern with her friend as well — and that's probably the reason we just saw her storm off. See, the thing is, son — and believe you me, I know this game better than I'd like to — when you need to act like that, it tells you one important thing about yourself — you're in pain. Now some people, when hurt, they stab, to make others hurt too — it brings relief. That kind of relief, though — it fades within seconds; while the impact of the stabbing — that's gonna leave an open wound, and then a scar, at times for even as long as the rest of a lifetime. And those wounds and scars you inflict — they gradually contribute to building a thick wall around her heart, to protect herself from your stabbing, until the wall is so high it would take you a lifetime to climb and then twice that long to descend, you see what I mean, son? Now that is something to think about."
Kyrillos glanced sideways; the wheels were turning. He smiled discreetly.
"I might have been too successful with the wall construction," Arkadios shared, audibly resigned, but the arrogant manner still there; it made Kyrillos smile.
"Technically, son, there are ways to make them walls crumble," Kyrillos explained. "But one's gotta be careful to apply them strategically."
"Well now you're talking! A foolproof strategy is everything, believe me — I would know."
Kyrillos' smile widened to the maximum. "The thing is, son, nothing is foolproof in that department, which I agree is rather unfortunate; sometimes you play it all by the book and it don't get you shit; other times you don't give a damn and win it all — like it or not, that's how it is."
"Well, that's a fucking nightmare — you can't plan a successful campaign with variables all over the place like that."
"Nope — but you can minimize the risk of getting killed by roughly 10 percent — if you apply the 100 percent of all the possible precautions," Kyrillos replied with a chuckle.
"Like what?" Arkadios asked, frowning.
"First of all — don't stab if you're hurting; second of all — a simple apology goes a really long way with women — believe me, son."
"Saying you're sorry?" Arkadios asked with another grimace, making Kyrillos want to laugh again.
"Adding a short description of what you're apologizing for — that does increase the chance of success significantly."
"Oh, fucking hell…"
"I know, son, but most of the time, it's the lesser pain to say it than live in the aftermath of not having said it when there was time for it — and this is thirty years of marriage speaking, you don't argue with that…"
Kyrillos made a move to get up to his feet. He was satisfied with the mission well accomplished.
They might've completely forgotten about fishing, but what needed to be done — was done.
Now, it was time to go back home.
