FULL MONTY

“I would never harm the flowers!” Aella’s voice rises in offense, at the fact that he could even suggest such a thing of her. The grip on her axe tightens as she considers the distance and swing it would take to cut the man’s head clean off his shoulders, and whether he’d have enough time to move in counter. “This tree is mine, come no further or it will be the last thing that you do.” There’s magic to his soul, she can sense it easily, a chosen of Dionysus, but that does little to endear him to Aella. Quite the opposite, in fact. It is those with magic who are the most greedy, the most eager to use her tree to their own benefit. She will not allow him to do it.

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“Ah, so she wields an axe but she’s fond of the blooms. I’m sure there’s a poet somewhere who would love to make that into a metaphor.” Milos took a cautious step back as he watched violet coloured eyes whip between him and the distance between them, flicking his own attention to the gleaming edge of the weapon in her arms. It would not be today that he died in his own garden, having Elif come home to find such a mess was entirely unfair upon the werewolf. “Yes, yes,” he said. “The tree is yours. Though when you weren’t home a while back I did do some great work warding off the gypsy moths that were going through all the trees in the bay, but I guess that one’s a freebie.” The kobaloi lifted up the watering can, showing it to the woman. “My name is Milos, this is my house and this is my garden. Can I keep watering my plants? The dahlias look a little thirsty.”

“Fiancé?” It’s the word that catches his attention, sharp eyes narrowing in on the man in front of him with scrutiny. He knows she spoke of her partner being in the city, but marriage is another matter entirely. “Is Elif aware you intend to propose?” Remzi is of the firm opinion that that kind of commitment shouldn’t be sprung on someone without warning, particularly when the person in question is his sister. It’s a protective instinct that’s never quite abated, the desire to look out for her, and make sure she’s treated as well as she should be. He doesn’t know this Milos, only the vague information he’s been given beforehand through his sister, but the impression the man sets is already an unfavorable one on the werewolf. It’s an ungracious thought, but he cannot help but be a bit judgmental, particularly where Elif is concerned. 

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Milos snorted, “Aware?” His usual smile took a turn for something shit-eating, just a broad expression that took up most of his face. “She’s already wearing a ring, if I didn’t I think she’d send me off to my next life.” He spoke in jest, but he was sure that Elif’s endless patience would eventually wear thin in regards to their eventual wedding. She had waited long enough, too patient and too loving, even when she hadn’t of known that he would be coming back to her. “I’m not going to ask your permission,” the kobalos pointed out, “But I do want you to know about it.” His brows tugged in. “Your relationship sounds,” he gestured, “Complicated. But you’re her brother, she loves you, and you should be aware of these things.” He rubbed at his wrist, “You’re also invited to the wedding, if that’s what she wants. Maybe hold off on the abuse of the groom though, big guy.”

     Noah rolled his eyes and gave Milos’ shoulder a little push. But maybe, just maybe, there was a ghost of a smile on his lips. He felt better now that he had let it all out, and he figured he had to thank his brother for that. Running a hand through his hair, he tried to focus on something other than his heartbreak. “How is that going? The proposal thing?” He hadn’t heard any news yet, so he figured Milos hadn’t gone through with it yet. “But… thank you. I appreciate that.”

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Milos snorted, “Well, the biggest hurdles so far have been the axe wielding woman in the backyard and then the fact that the ring I intend to use is a priceless artifact.” He shrugged. “I think we can get around the axe lady, as far as I can tell she likes me because I’m nice to the flowers, but the ring’s gonna be an issue.” He gestured to the window that showed the garden out back. “I’m working on that arch, she likes lilies so it has to be just right. I also need to get a ring enchanted, so you know, I might not be employed but boy have I been busy.” Milos offered Noah a smile. “I want you in this life, and all the ones next.”

“They’re welcome to try.” Mahendra looked up and made a gesture as if he was waiting for something to happen, and then shrugged. “I’m already cursed, and when I die I’m going straight to hell. They can get their rocks off over maiming my pretty face then.” The incubus didn’t fear the Gods, not anymore, even as a mortal he hadn’t respected them as he should have. Now this was the result. “You two will get along great then, because your idea is insane  but maybe he’ll appreciate that.” Mahendra pointed out, every story… pretty much ever that dealt with the mortals and Gods ended similarly. Hopefully Milos would survive the encounter, but if not they could meet up in the trickster’s next cycle. “Is that the stuff they’re always giving away at the festivals? Worst shit I’ve ever tasted, way too spicy for me.”

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“Hell can’t be that bad, for all that everyone says. Sounds like all the fun people are there, it’s nice and warm— even the Devil sounds like he can hang.” Milos gestured, “I reckon it’s probably just a big forbidden party where the drinks are a little bit foamy and gross, kind of like that full moon one that they’ve got in Thailand.” This was blasphemy, and he was sure that he would regret the words later, but for now he was grinning, glancing over at the cubi with his crooked expression. “I’m hoping that he finds me just a little bit delightful, that might work a bit better in my favour. I made a promise to a werewolf that I wouldn’t die, and I intend to keep it for her sake.” He snorted, “Yeah, that’s the stuff. I feel like I could use it as oven cleaner and be better off than when I actually swallow it, but it does do the trick— at least it’s strong.”

“And you used to be so much better at picking up my sarcasm.” His hand lifted to lightly punch Milos’ shoulder. They were still like brothers, he liked to think. Even if there was no marriage involved. Volkan was sure he wouldn’t look at the other kobaloi any other way. “It’s very much dissolved, but I wouldn’t say I love her any less. Don’t tell her that though.” He definitely didn’t want Mara to hold that over his head forever. Even though she definitely would regardless. Maybe, if he annoyed her enough, he would be safe. “She named her dog after you? I feel so bad for her. And that dog. They’ve got to live with that name forever now,” he stated jokingly.

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“All further proof that you should not keep yourself away for so long, I barely know how to talk to you anymore.” He grinned over at Volkan, and his brows shot up. “Should I be asking what your intentions are with my sister, or should we just gloss over that? I already liked you enough the first time you married her, I don’t think it’ll be a problem if you want to do it again. Not with me, at least.” He continued to pay the cat attention, snorting at the other’s words. “I’m actively trying to change the dog’s name. They named me Monty in this life, but that’s no name for a dog. Maybe we’ll start calling him Filos, and see what happens.”

“I know enough of loss to be wiser to willfully allowing it in.” There’s a great many people Mara has loved over her years, but in the end, few survived beyond the test of time. A spouse, children, friends and family, in the end the outcome is always the same. Loss. A terrible, painful feeling that crawls deep inside one’s chest, sitting on their lungs and making breathing near impossible. That he would ever attempt to belittle her on such a matter does not sit well with Mara, a scowl tugging at her features. “Contrary to what you might believe, you are not the only person in this world to have experienced love, Milos.” Her tone is sharper now, an undertone of anger and indignation that’s bristling beneath the kobalos’s skin. “There is never enough time. Even if she were immortal, there would still be decades spent apart, waiting on your reincarnation, the years spent in oblivion before magic returns.” It is not an easy life, not for themselves or the ones that chose to love them through it. But Milos is too stubborn to see that, too blinded by his own affections and cocksure arrogance that everything will work out for him. She can see it in his eyes, it’s as if Mara is speaking to a brick wall. “We have prayed for him to speak to us time and time again. What makes you think this will go differently?”

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This was a Mara that he knew best, defiant— often furious at him. His arms crossed over his chest and he stared back at her, gaze hard as they both bristled like irate alleycats. He knew briefly of how life had carved her down into what she was now, how it had given her joy: moments of which he had seen like light through cracked clay, but it had stolen them: this was the loss that she spoke of. A mother without her children was someone whittled down and hollow, but his sister was made of something too strong to allow such heartbreak to ruin her. Her spirit would endure, and he immediately felt a pang of regret for his words. Later, he’d apologize, but for now he clenched his jaw. “There is no other way, nothing that I can see.” Milos rubbed at his jaw, looking at Mara with his usual intensity. “I cannot just let her go, be satisfied with a few years. I want a family, I want a future.” He shook his head, “I’ve never wanted those things before.” Forever had been a guarantee, and while it hadn’t of been lonely, it hadn’t of been complete before either: Mara had been the most important woman in his life for a long, long time, but that wasn’t enough, not for him now. “I’ll pledge my immortality, if I must. Surely that will bring a god’s ear to earth to listen.”

Elene’s lips purse in thought, as she stares at the ring the kobalos holds in his hand. From first glance, it’s true that it looks identical to the true ring. But the idea crosses her mind that he could simply be attempting to play her, in a bid to get what he wants. She would certainly not put it past one of his nature, to think himself more clever than anyone else. “Give it here,” she says, holding out her hand to take it, to look at it up close for herself. But Elene’s inspection finds no flaws; none that can be seen without intense scrutiny under a magnifying glass, any how. A pity that she does not have one on her. “If I find this in any way to be a trick, I will find you and make sure you live to regret it, kobalos.” She warns, her voice firm and sharp as blue eyes return to the man in front of her. Only a fool would underestimate a demigoddess — even one who does not truly claim such status anymore. “Consider this your first and only grace. If you try such a stunt again, I will have you strung up by your toes and left to hang on display.” Elene hands back the ring, a sigh escaping from her lips as she eyes him warily. “I will be gone for two minutes. Make the switch and get out of here. Take only the ring.”

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Milos held the ring box out, placing it in the woman’s pale palm. He was sure that he had never seen anyone quite as fair as her, down to the white hair that flowed over her shoulders— but he was quick to speak rather than note such things. “I had it enchanted, it will pass every inspection that there might be put upon it.” Normally, he would not have gone to such measures; simply leaving an empty case would have been enough for the kobalos, but he did not wish a future between the two of them where Elif’s ring was constantly on the look out as a priceless stolen artifact. “No trick, I swear to Dionysus.” His patron had likely not had an oath in his name in many years, and Milos wondered if he snorted in the heavens as a result of it. “I’ll be gone before you return,” he said, passing off a smile. “Thank you.” This much was earnest, without his wiles or mirth, and as she departed and he worked at lifting the glass he called to her retreating back— “I’ll be sure to invite you to the wedding.”

“You lived without her for a couple thousand years already, you’ll manage.” Ikaros commented, Dionysus had already given them so much, that was the origin of their wine cult but the trickster wasn’t in the mood for a lecture. Besides, he was no stranger to heartache, he knew how irrational it could make someone. In fact it was one of his defining characteristics, he did not envy what it was that Milos would inevitably go through, not did he really think a genasi would be willing to help them - but any crazy plan that his cousin cooked up was something Ikaros would inevitably be interested in. “How about you do everything and then I’ll show up wherever you need.” Ikaros countered, “I have a pack mule at the winery, his name is Elias and he has the face of eeyore the depressed donkey. He’ll bring you a whole barrel.”

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“So you want me to do all the work, so you can come and say hi to Daddy if he ever picks up the phone?” Milos snorted. “Fine. I’ll figure it out, you just stay put and comfortable dreaming about your goat men.” He polished off another glass of the wine, and he was sure that by the time he made his way home he would be thoroughly drunk, barrelling into the villa singing songs from lives that had long been lived out and annoying Elif awake with peppered kisses from lips that were stained ruby from drink. “Elias the sad donkey. Everything in your life has hooves, have you noticed that, cousin?” Still, Milos grinned broadly as he stood on unsteady feet, navigating towards the door. “Have him bring one to the house anyways, I’ll keep it in my cellar for when everything else has run dry and there’s only sour wine for the occasion. Maybe we’ll see if we can find a way to make him laugh a bit, hey?”

     The ring was absolutely stunning. Elif thought the one she had been wearing ever since she found it in a drawer after Milos’ death had been the most beautiful ring she ever saw. But this looked just as, if not more, beautiful. Shaking her head in disbelief, she lifted her hand up to take a closer look at the ring that fit perfectly onto her finger. “This is beautiful, Milos. And it does not look like you can just buy it at a jewelry store around the corner. where did you get it?” Her tone is almost a bit worried, as she hoped this was not a stolen gift. But then she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned up to kiss him — one, two, three times. “I love you so much,” she whispered against his lips, still grinning like crazy. “And you know I would marry you tomorrow. I don’t want to waste another day not being married to you. Especially not if the Gods might interfere.”

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He offered a wry smile before shaking his head. “You know better than to ask me questions like that.” That was, to ask questions that he was sure the answer would be something she disapproved of, but he had promised to keep no secrets— and Milos had meant it, divulging a little bit of the tale. “The museum. A long story, but in the end, it was always intended for you.” The kobaloi returned the kisses with a happy fervour, pleased that the flowers twisted and twined to mirror his emotions, practically vibrating with delight. “Not tomorrow, that’s too soon, but this enthusiasm? Let’s keep it up.” His hand drew over her long hair and he studied her dimpled smile, letting out a contented sigh. “Soon, we’ll plan the whole thing. Maybe we’ll do it at the courthouse, then have a party here. There has to be a party, though, I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

     The moment Elif lay eyes on the ring she knew what would happen, and yet she was not prepared for it in the slightest. How many times had she dreamt of this happening? Especially when she found the ring that still sat on her finger she tried to imagine what his proposal might have looked like. None of her dreams could compare to reality. To the smell of lilies in the air, his eyes shining with love, the stunning ring in his hand. Tears filled her eyes, and a single one ran down her cheek before she started to nod. Something rare happened — the werewolf was lost for words. Instead she cupped his face with her hands and pressed a passionate kiss to his lips. Once she broke it, her face was lit up with the widest smile and she had found her voice again. “Yes. Yes, of course yes. I have been waiting for this for too long. I want nothing more than to marry you.”

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Milos’ smile cracked along his features like ice breaking, wider than a chasm, brighter than a sun. He took the ring from the box, and he found her hand, slipping it onto her finger. “For you,” he said proudly, pressing a kiss on her dimpled cheek and the corner of her mouth, then the line of her jaw. “Something as rare and as beautiful as you are, I hope that it can compare to the last.” It was no byzantine jewel, but it had been the hold up for the entire engagement; of which had gone so well that the flowers around them seemed to bloom bolder and more fragrant as a result of his rush of emotion. “I missed my chance to marry you once, the gods themselves will have to pull me from the earth with their very hands to keep me from doing it again.” His grin hitched, “And even then, they’ll find that I’ll cause enough trouble to make them consider tossing me back down to you.” Milos leaned in to kiss her again, “Let’s do it soon, here in the garden. Before the gods hear me and make plans.”

     “For what?” She was laughing with him, but mostly Elif was just happy to see and hear him be happy. Milos deserved that, and she loved seeing him happy more than anything else in the world. Her fingers reached up to tug the blindfold down, and it took her a moment until her eyes adjusted to the light around her. Then her eyes fell to Milos who was down on one knee before her and holding out a ring box and — oh Gods.  Was this really happening? The last time she found the ring box after his funeral when she left Greece. This was more the proposal she had been hoping for, and her heart stopped in her chest. Bringing one hand up to cover her mouth that had formed an O, she kept looking from the ring to his face and back again. “Milos?”, she whispered, needing him to say something.

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“They’re your favourite,” Milos said, and the words carried up to her. “I’d fill the entire city with lilies if you told me that they’re all you’d like to look at.” It was nerve wracking, as he held the ring box up, presenting to the light the ring, the sapphire and diamond, teardrop shaped and forever intertwined. Later, he’d tell her the story of it; from the very beginning, then with Napoleon and following that, how he had bargained with Helen herself to have it back in his possession. Now, it was hers, and he offered her a small smile as he reached with his free hand to grip at Elif’s. It fit in his perfectly, and he gave her fingers a squeeze. Around her the archway framed her in white blooms, each striving to be more fragrant and stunning than the last. “I’ve wanted this from the moment I saw you— under the moon in Venice, by our fountain in that dress.” His smile hitched, “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, the most clever and the warmest; and I’ve felt indubitably loved by you, more so than I have ever before, by anyone else. These lives of mine have been long, but now,” his eyes searched the werewolf’s dark ones, “They belong to you, as does this heart and this body, should you want to have it. Marry me, Elif Sahin, and make me the happiest man on this earth.”

“Oh, well, that’s just disrespectful. I thought we were brothers.” He moved in for what was considered not even a full hug. It was a simple half embrace that Volkan was certainly not used to. He always brought his arms around the entire person he was talking to. Nevertheless, he didn’t mind it from Milos. As long as they were still on good terms, he didn’t mind how they welcomed each other nowadays. “No, no. If you think about it, it’s actually really creative. Nobody would ever expect for me to just name a cat Kitten. My other cats are even more creative. One named Butter. The other named Toast. Those are good names, you have to admit.”

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“You used to be much better at handling my teasing,” Milos noted, clapping his hand on Volkan’s shoulder. “Also, I thought that marriage was dissolved, was it not? Brothers no longer, though between you and me, I sort of liked the idea of having one. Mara has far too big of a chip on her shoulder being the eldest.” He scratched at the little beast’s chin, laughing. “My partner, she has a dog named Milos. Toast is an excellent name for an animal, a fine creature, no doubt.”

“Much to our dismay,” Lysander grinned a little, though he rolled his eyes with a laugh. “You like it? Thought I’d bring back my gladiator look. Everyone seemed to fuckin’ love it back then, so I couldn’t help myself, now.” He flipped his hair dramatically before looking over Milos. “Right – I’ll meet her, but what the hell you doin’? Ask her about immortality, mate. You’re tempting fate with a mortal. We all know how that ends.”

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“This is your turn to compliment my nose, you know. I’m quite happy that I got this hair, height and this nose. Last incarnation I was Italian and between you and me, dark hair is not the energy I want to bring into the world. Tall, dark and handsome? It’s too much power.” Milos let out a breath, “I’m worried about what she’ll say.” What if Elif didn’t want it? He couldn’t stand an eternity where she was miserable being what she was, that she had stayed alive just for him, for his sake. “We’ll talk about it soon, I just,” he shrugged. “I need to see what the options are, you know?”