Do fairies have tails?

Lucy wakes to the feeling of the bed dipping, her husband crawling quietly in beside her. She can tell how careful he's trying to be, the way he tries to be silent so as not to disturb her, but she's strung too high and her spine is too taut for her to sleep deep enough for him to succeed.

Leo wasn't seen again for the rest of that day. His sudden absence following their rash conversation had left Lucy in an even stranger headspace than the one she had woken up in. She'd floated through the day on a storm cloud and nobody, not Spetto, not Virgo, not anyone, could have brought her down from it.

She bathed. She dressed. She ate, though her stomach disagreed with every bite. She scrubbed every tile in the courtyard against her body's wishes. She tended to the flowers she kept in every corner. She scouted every floor, every empty room, a dozen times or more. She tried to make bread, but burned it when her mind strayed too far elsewhere. She cleared debris from the garden. She did as much as she could until her body forced her into bed when the moon started creeping in.

She turns over to lie on her back and stares up. She can't pick out the ceiling above her, it just looks like an endless abyss, but the rest of her senses are honed in on the sound of his breathing as he settles in beside her. They lie there without words for a long time. She knows that he knows she's awake, and her him. A mere few months of marriage wasn't enough for a lot, but it was enough for them to know the patterns of breath between sleep and wakefulness.

She wants to ask him where he had gone, beg him to explain why he had left them with a single guard outside the door when he had been so worried about their protection. She wants to push him. She wants to bombard him with questions, claw into his mind, grip him by his shoulders and shake. But she won't. She can't.

"I'm sorry for this morning." She whispers into the darkness. Her chest stings. "I stepped completely out of line when you already had so much on your shoulders. That was unfair of me."

He doesn't answer right away, but she knows he's listening.

Slowly and carefully, hyper aware of every bump and bruise she's littered with, she turns to face him. Her arm reaches out and finds the solid surface of his chest. She feels his breath, his heart beat, the warmth of his skin, needing to be sure he's really there and she hadn't imagined him creeping in under a high moon. Gradually her eyes adjust to the faint glow seeping into the room, and she can see the outline of his form. Just enough to spur her into the script she had been practicing in her head, all day, in his absence.

"I was being unreasonable. It will never happen again." She continues in well hidden resignation. She rubs small circles over his heart with her palm like she could heal the stress she had caused with her touch. "I hope you can forgive me. I will make it up to you however I can. I will never ask for anything beyond my station ever again."

"Lucy, stop." Leo's hand reaches up to cover hers and squeezes. He turns his head to look towards her and she only catches a brief twinkle of his eyes. "I understand. You were hurt, and scared, and I acted inappropriately. You were attacked and I wasn't there to save you, and I can't bear the thought of what that must have felt like for you." His voice is soft and soothing in the dim and under her palm she can sense the strain in his heart.

She bites her lip and decides to try once more. "I still mean it."

"I know you do." He answers. "But you don't have to apologize for feeling afraid, and you don't have to feel obligated to do anything more than you already do for me. For us."

Her practiced apology is not what she was referring to, but she doesn't have the strength to correct him. She sinks down into the cushions, drained like a spider's prey. She's ready to pretend the day never happened in the first place, so she could go back to dragging her feet through her usual routine and seeking in the stars for a road she will never take.

She's tired.

"The whole city is on high alert right now, after the attack. It's all hands on deck." He continues, his thumb running over her knuckles to keep her hand there. "I'm needed out there, everywhere, until we can be sure we're safe again. That means I will be away a lot more until the problem is solved."

Lucy nods even though he can't see her. She knows this already. He'd made that very clear when he had stormed out that morning. She doesn't want to hear it again. It makes her brittle.

He sighs. "I know that you've had to deal with a lot, but I have to ask you now for forgiveness."

At those words, the blonde raises herself up on her elbow despite the pain it causes. Her eyebrows wrinkle in confusion as she stares at his moonlit face. A new spark lights up in her chest. "What do you mean?"

The General takes way too long to answer and it makes her stomach sink.

"The guards will be needed on patrol at the gates and for scouting within the city." He starts. "And any man serving our great Athens who can wield a weapon will be on duty however we see fit for the foreseeable future. That is why I have decided to hire someone from an outside source to protect you while I'm away."

She sits up. She considers. She tastes his words, twists them around in her mind until they settle deep in her gut like a sinking ship to the ocean floor. "Like… a mercenary." The word feels like stinging nettle on her tongue.

"Yes." He murmurs. "Look, I know that it's not favourable-"

"Indeed." She doesn't mean to interrupt, it just slips out of her mouth so easily by the distaste the very thought brings to her.

"Please, try to understand."

"I do understand." She tells him as the air shrivels out of her lungs. She means it, she really does. But it doesn't change how distressing it feels, how the very idea makes an anxious sweat form on her palms, on her neck. "Leo, I do. What I don't understand is why that's the solution you came up with. How could you possibly trust someone like that after everything?"

The bed shifts as he sits up, too. So much for sleep. "I didn't have a choice."

He did. But he had shut it down in the courtyard that morning.

"They are side effects of war with no loyalties. They come from who knows where. That's the risk you want to take?" Keeping her voice as calm as she can manage despite her worry, she tries to reach his eyes in the dark, but she can't quite get there. "Athena's sacred ground was desecrated. I was attacked. By strange people we know nothing about. You're asking me to trust a stranger, in our home, after all of that."

She feels his hand, warm and slightly calloused, cup her cheek. She wants to recoil from the touch — it's not as comforting as it once had been — but presses into it anyway. Her throat is tight from the effort of keeping tears at bay once more. On top of the potentially deadly risk his decision poses, would it not be shameful of him to leave a strange man at home with his wife and his unmarried sister? Would his reputation hang on that frayed, fragile line on top of everything else?

Would she truly be safe?

"I know. I'm sorry." His voice is so tender, so devoted that it makes her queasy. His thumb strokes the apple of her cheek. "Believe me, if there was another option, I would take it. But I can't leave my greatest treasures unguarded while I'm away. Not now. Not until I know for sure that there is no target on our backs."

No response. She's too tired. Too worn down from treasure-hood.

"Besides." He continues. "All mercenaries have one loyalty, and that's drachma. And I am going to pay this one more than he could ever ask for, and more again."

She pulls his hand away from her face now with shaking fingers. "Have you found one?"

Solemnly, he chuckles. "I've got a lead, yes. Why do you think I was gone for so long?"

"I thought maybe you'd gone to Delphi on a pilgrimage."

Her attempt to release the tension between them and change the subject seems to have worked, as he laughs into the darkened room. The bed creaks as he lies back down, and the relief she feels to just move on dulls the ache in her ribs.

"I don't think even the Pythia would have guidance for me now."

The room goes quiet and slowly Lucy inches herself down to his side. They speak no more of it, not that she imagines he would let her fight him on it any more than she has, balancing on the precipice of complete indignity. He didn't like being questioned too harshly when it came to his family, his job, his polis. He prided himself on his openness to her mind until he didn't like what she had to say. She had surrendered herself to that reality long ago.

It takes a very long time for her to catch the net of sleep again. Her imagination runs wild with the kind if images only a child could conjure up of who might be stalking her halls soon enough. Would it be a big burly giant, meant to scare off any potential threats by the sheer size of him? Would it be a dark, slinky character, meant to watch silently from the shadows?

She does trust him, could never not trust him, but like many things in her life she doesn't enjoy what she has no choice but to accept. She attempts to tell herself that it could be worse, that there is a logic to his decision, that there really was no other choice for him to make. But even within her own mind she remains stubborn. The disdain for her reality sinks deeper and deeper into her gut to eventually find roots in her soul.

The birds love to sing to her.

Sewing long forgotten, Lucy drifts in and out of sleep, curled up on her favourite rug surrounded by cushions under a pergola. She had tried to work but the pain in her body screamed at her not to, fingers unsteady and stitching needing redoing about a dozen times before she gave up. How could she work anyway, when it was pleasantly warm outside and the bird song was so soothing?

Leo had been gone when she woke up that morning; later than she had ever slept in a long time, and hurting more than the day before. In multiple ways. Spetto had encouraged her with an intensity she thought had been long left to her youth to take it easy for a while - the home would be handled. She didn't argue… too much.

That was yesterday.

But taking it easy means that keeping her mind occupied becomes more difficult than any of her usual tasks. She repeats the conversation they'd had in the darkness of their room over and over. Considers if it had been a dream that her anxiety had conjured up. Leo returned late again last night, riddled with a deep rooted panic over leaving them poorly protected that she didn't entertain for very long before rolling over and forcing herself to sleep.

It's not quite like her bed, but the decorative rug and pillows is all she needs now. She floats in and out, in and out, occasionally shifting to accommodate the discomfort that ebbs and flows. She'd had no way of knowing how much worse she would feel as time went on, how much more tender her bruises would be, how much sharper her ribs would poke her at her insides. Virgo had kindly offered to help her with her hair again, since her arms were so sore, and she had dressed in a old white peplos worn to perfect softness.

A prick at her neck.

Lucy shoots up in a panic, throwing the cushion she had been clutching. Her heart rate quickens and for a moment, the adrenaline numbs every ache. Her eyes dart around in search of a culprit that doesn't exist and the blazing source of the smoke she can't smell.

She is safe, and she is alone.

She sniffs and rubs her temples, her eyes, combs through loose strands of hair to calm herself down. There is no fire. There is no hooded man stinking of burning oil holding a blade to her throat. There is no arrow coming to save her. She's home. She's on her terrace in the afternoon sun and the birds are singing.

Deciding she can't rest any more, the picks up her sewing again. Moves slowly. Inches back to rest her spine against the wall so nothing and no one can come up from behind her. The shaded stone is cool underneath her. A leaf of ivy flutters down and kisses her shoulder.

"My brother is home."

Virgo's voice, cautious and borderline feeble in contrast to her usual demeanor, lights Lucy's nerves aflame. The tenderness that the young girl has approached her with since the attack throws her every time. She prefers her grit.

She places her sewing gently down on her lap and takes a deep, grounding breath, recalling the moment she had clocked the same thing when she heard her husband's voice downstairs. "Yes, he is. What's the issue with that? I thought you liked when he's home."

Virgo approaches quietly, eyebrows wrinkled and buried in thought. The ivy covered pergola sprinkles shadows over her cherub face, and Lucy sees some unfamiliar staining on her peplos. She sits and leans back against the wall beside her, finding comfort in the shade.

"I do like when he's home, that way I know he's safe and not out doing something stupid."

"Your brother is many things, but stupid is not one of them."

"That is a debatable claim that should be brought to assembly at the pnyx."

Lucy laughs, a joyous sound that harmonizes with the chirping of the birds. Her shoulders relax knowing Virgo is still herself, in spite of what's bothering her now.

"I know you've known him since you were kids, but you didn't have to live at home with him and our brothers." Virgo continues and looks off into the distance in reminiscence. She shudders at whatever memory pops into her mind, and Lucy notes that she will have to ask about it later. Maybe it's a story she's yet to hear.

"You're not here to talk about the intelligence of our General, are you?"

Virgo shakes her head and bites her lip. "No. He's talking to some strange man.

The blonde nods. "Define strange."

"Well…" The teenager starts. "I don't recognize him. He's wearing armour but… it's not Athenian. He's not Athenian. He doesn't look like… anything, and his accent is different, and I feel… Well, I don't like it."

It's Lucy's turn to furrow her brow. It was obvious to her now that the girl was a little disturbed by the presence, and still reeling from the attack she hadn't even been around to experience first hand. She understands the apprehension.

"It's alright." She tells her.

"He has a sword, and daggers." Virgo continues. "I mean, do you really need both? A blade is a blade. It's just weird. And… I don't know how he could trust a stranger right now."

"I know." Lucy reassures her. "But you trust him, don't you?"

A nod.

"Then there is nothing to worry about."

Virgo remains quiet for a while, blue eyes distant, but eventually her body relaxes and she unfurls herself to peel away from the wall and sprawl over the cushions instead. "You're always right, Lucy."

"I try." The blonde smiles, and lifts her sewing from her lap to continue to work. As she pushes the needle through the linen, watching the sharp point push upwards towards her, it clicks, and really, it should have clicked sooner.

She knows who that stranger is. It's a devastating blow to realize in that moment that Virgo doesn't have a clue.

Muscles taut, she adjusts her legs and chews her lip to the point she's sure will bleed. Remain calm and collected.

"Actually…" She speaks, pointed and cool. Softly, so as not to alarm her more. "He told me he has hired someone to keep watch here in case we're attacked at home. I presume that is who he is talking to."

Virgo scrunches her nose at Lucy's words. Shockingly composed about the news compared to the emotional storm Lucy had experienced. "But we have guards for that."

"The guards are needed elsewhere right now." She answers, piercing the fabric in her hands over and over, hard enough it might rip if she isn't careful. "They work for Athens, not for us."

"But my brother is Ath-"

"I know, Virgo." Lucy grits through her teeth, before finally resigning herself to reality. "How about I go down and meet this stranger for myself." She says smoothly, attempting to keep the air around them from shrinking, difficult as it may be. She sets aside her sewing and stands slowly to her feet. "I should like to be a part of this."

Virgo watches her. "I think I'll stay up here for a while."

"Good idea." She points to her project and forces a grin. "How about you practice patching that up?"

Without looking back, Lucy in all her soreness and burning limbs, marches across the terrace with clenched fists.

Relax. She says to herself, but her disbelief is evident on her face to anyone who might see it. He had neglected to tell his sister about what he intended to do, and that was a disappointment no logic or reason could protect her from.

As she reaches the bottom of the stairs, she can hear Leo's voice traveling across the courtyard from his quarters. She has to pause. Her knees pinch from the impact of the steps and her jaw hurts from clenching her teeth too tight. Another voice in her head tells her she's being unreasonable, that she can't waltz in there looking for a fight she won't win, or make an impression so poor it will reflect on her husband. Elegance and grace is the only way to move forward, and she couldn't let herself lose any more of either.

One step at a time.

Under her bare feet she can feel every detail of the tile against her soles as she moves. She lets it ground her as a mantra of gibberish repeats in her head. Her eyes focus on the room across the way and the threshold that looms. She sees her husband through the door first, with his arms behind his back and his eyes forward. She feels like she's sinking under water and can't catch the words coming out of his mouth as she approaches. They're muffled beneath her pounding heart. She chooses, in that moment, to keep her gaze on him until she's calm enough that she won't shatter. She will see the mercenary when she's ready.

If she'll ever be ready.

Softly, she comes to a halt just in the doorway. Not daring to step any closer. Not willing to invade the discussion happening in front of her. She closes her eyes, leans her exasperated body against the stone, and waits. Impatiently.

"I know I am asking a great deal." Leo continues. "But you will be compensated accordingly. I'm sure you understand my concerns."

"Of course, General."

From the sound of his voice she can tell it's a young man. A little rugged maybe, but not in the way her father's voice graveled in his final days or the way an old man might recount years gone by. It's warm. It surprises her that whoever Leo roped into their home couldn't be any older than them. A young man not tasked as a soldier. It's strange, sure. But as far as she's concerned, anyone without loyalties for the sake of some drachma? Strange doesn't even begin to cover it. War leads people in peculiar and disheartening directions such as this.

She hears the quiet brush of metal and leather as the mercenary shifts. Oh how she wishes to be curled up on her terrace again.

"And as I said, just for the time being. Until I can be certain there is no longer a threat, then you will be dismissed. I can't promise when that will be."

"Understood."

The conversation sizzles out and Lucy can feel eyes landing on her. In that moment she wishes she had waited to be fetched instead of trudging down herself, but there is no turning back. She pushes her shoulder off of the frame and tucks her arms cordially behind her back. Her husband is already looking at her when she opens her eyes. Based on the way his breath holds, he obviously wasn't expecting her to be there.

And she wasn't expecting him to stoop to the hired help of an armed drifter, and yet here they are.

"My bride."

Lucy gives him a tight smile. Still focusing on him. She won't give in, won't acknowledge the stranger, not until she has to. Her silent rebellion.

Leo clears his throat and adjusts his footing. A hand brushes his hair away from his face as he searches for the words to say. He'd had a different plan in his head. He looks again to the mercenary, a hand gesturing towards her as he steps out from behind the cluttered table in the center of the room. "This is my wife, Lucy."

In her peripherals the strange man turns to look over his shoulder at her, silhouetted by the light coming in through the window. The gaze burns her.

He continues. "Lucy, this is — "

"A moment, General."

He hesitates at her words but she doesn't give him another second as she spins on her heels and steps back into the courtyard. Deep breaths, tight fists. She moves until she deems the distance just appropriate enough and waits for him. He stutters an apology to the unknown man, and follows her.

"Lucy…" He tries. Reaches for her across a chasm neither will recognize. "What's wrong, darling?"

"You never told Virgo."

His eyes go wide and his mouth drops open. An expression of realization, not of guilt, seeps onto his face, and Lucy feels her flame start to die faster than it sparked. Looses the torch in the abyss.

"Gods… I didn't." He looks like a teenager again, in the way he rubs and scratches at the back of his neck and the stubble on his chin. He looks around the open space and his shoulders sink. She watches as he is carried away in an emotional whirlpool of his own making. "Shit."

"Did you forget?" She asks with a bitterness she has to reach for, and though she wants to let the rage go while she still has a pinch of it left, she knows he's doesn't deserve aggression. Not right now, not ever again, not from her. "That's not fair."

"I… I didn't know how to tell her, at first." He answers earnestly. "She's been so stressed about you every time I've seen her, I didn't want to make it worse. I know it makes you nervous to have him here. I didn't know if she would react the same. And then…"

"You got so caught up that you forgot." She finishes. Her bottom lip catches in her teeth. A smart man he certainly was, but the exhaustion that embraces him now… well, maybe there was some truth behind Virgo's words earlier.

She secedes the more she looks at him, how open he is, how predictably truthful he's being. It's unfathomably frustrating to feel her flame die so easily. Snuffed by her own easy submission, her softness.

Despite her hesitance to do so she steps to him and takes his hand in hers. "She looks up to you, more than you know. You are her guardian. You can't push her aside like that."

He nods, and his eyes lower with guilt and regret. Even she can see how heavy his head feels on his shoulders. When they were younger, she'd have been more inclined to cradle it for a moment and run her fingers through his hair, give his muscles a break.

"She has the same right to know as I do."

"You're different." He whispers.

"No, I'm not." She squeezes his fingers. "She's not a kid anymore. You'd be wise to not forget that much, at least."

He nods again and returns the pressure of her palm. All the words she wanted to say die on her tongue as they stand there in the middle of their home, in the middle of paranoid Athens, trying to meet somewhere Lucy's heart just isn't willing to go.

She watches as the boy who swore to keep her safe tastes her words. Mulls over his mistake. Accepts it with dignity, like the honourable man she knows he is, always was, and hopes he always will be.

"Come on." He finally speaks and looks towards where the shadow of the mercenary moves across the floor.

Lucy nods. Gentle, sweetly, he pulls her back towards his office. She steels herself to face the armed stranger, currently unsupervised, standing in her home. She could contest it all she wants, but the fight in her to do so keeps withering away. This is a person she is going to have to look at eventually, speak to, get acquainted with to an extent just appropriate enough. As minimal as possible if she can help it. That part is on her terms and hers alone.

She has to trust her husband, and the stranger in turn. She has to trust herself too.

"Important family matters. My apologies." Leo says to the mercenary as they return, spine stiff once more as he leads her back into the room, stepping aside to make the appropriate space for her to join him.

"Don't worry about it." The man responds, and Lucy finally decides to look at him despite the reluctance that gnaws at her neck. She raises her gaze.

A bolt of lightning shoots up her spine.

Virgo's face is the first thing she sees when she wakes up.

"Lucy!"

Everything comes swarming in all at once; the light of the early morning sun sends a shooting pain from her temples to the back of her skull, and her limbs feel like they're made of stone. But she feels safe. She knows the ceiling above her, the colours and friezes of the walls around her, and she knows the wool of the blanket that covers her. She smell of Virgo's subtle, floral perfume envelopes her as the teenager leans over with a beaming smile and wrinkled brow.

With a hand pressing to her temple Lucy carefully tries to push herself up to sit, and her body screams at her for it. Her skull vibrates and her torso feels like it's been broken into a million pieces. She takes in the surroundings of her room some more, trying to process what had happened and how she had gotten there. She remembers the attack, her fall. She remembers her aggressor and the arrow that pierced his throat without mercy. She remembers running for her life. Then it blurs.

"I don't remember getting home." Is the first thing she says with unfocused eyes.

"Spetto and I found you." Virgo frowns, distress written all over her face. "We saw the smoke and the fire on the Acropolis and we just… ran. I don't know how we found you, but we did. You were halfway home."

Lucy's hands then float to her neck, then to her wrists, as her memory slowly becomes a little more clear. Briefly, in the depths of those memories, she hears Spetto calling her name and feels herself supported by them both, stumbling home. She doesn't know how to express the gratitude and relief she feels knowing they carried her home, so she doesn't. She moves to the next thing on her mind; the realization she is quickly coming to as her fingers brush her bare wrists. "I think my jewelry was stolen when I passed out."

"Yeah, I think so too. But that's okay." Virgo reassures her. "We're just really glad you're alright."

Lucy dreads asking the next question. "Is… Is Leo okay?"

"Yeah." Virgo's response comes out breathy and weightless. "He's okay. He's downstairs talking to the guards, I think. All he told us was that there was an attack."

A hefty sigh of relief and a nod. "Thank the Gods…"

The blonde remains upright for a long time. She wiggles her toes, her fingers, bends her knees, adjusts her hips. Breathing hurts, her head pulses. Her throat is dry and burning.

After a while, she finally removes herself from the blankets and the wooden bed frame creaks beneath her. The floor is cold under her feet. The tenderness in her body is hard to ignore but nothing she can't learn to manage, and she is sure that a bath and some careful stretching would soothe it all. Surely.

But that would have to wait. She was determined now to speak to her husband, make sure he was truly okay, ask him if he knew what had happened. She couldn't think of anything else but her need to understand the violence they had found herself caught up in as it violated their sacred festival. Anything he could tell her, she desperately needed to hear it. And anything she could tell him, he needed to know.

Virgo stands with her and immediately tries to brace her, concern etched deeply in her young features. "Lucy, you should probably-"

"I'm okay." She reassures her with a smile, and she means it. "You don't need to nurse me. Why don't you get some air up on the terrace? I need to speak to the General."

The teenager reluctantly nods, doesn't protest, and briskly leaves the room to presumably follow through with the suggestion, unwillingly to argue. Once she is out of sight, Lucy takes a moment to breathe and collect herself, to gather her thoughts and her memories into an organized corner of her mind.

She recalls everything up to those final moments, more distinctly as the minutes pass and her brain fog clears; one moment things were as they were supposed to be, then everything was on fire and veiled figures were rampaging through the Acropolis. She remembers being unable to find Leo, and the smoke being so thick she could barely breathe and couldn't find her exit route. The soldier's head rolling into her path. Her fall. The man who grabbed her and the blade at her throat. She remembers running for her life, and it's then, when she remembers throwing up her feast, things go fuzzy.

Maybe she had smacked her head on the stairs, or she had breathed in too much smoke, or pushed her body well passed it's capabilities, or a combination of all three, that caused her to pass out when she did.

But it didn't matter now. Now, she was home and she was alive. Her tender ribs with every breath reminded her of that with ironic cruelty.

She moves. The first few steps are aching, but as she gingerly makes her way out of the room and down the stairs, she wills the pain to subside. If she can pretend hard enough that it's not there, it eventually won't be. The energy in the home feels dimmed and shaken, a result of the disastrous attack that has surely left the entire city itself rattled and paranoid. Morale had been so high all week, and she can't imagine how badly it has been crushed to bits.

As she reaches the center courtyard she can hear Leo's voice from across the way, in his quarters, as Virgo said he would be. She makes a quick stop at the cistern to sip from it's water and splash her face clean of dirt and soot. The rest of her appearance could wait. She needed answers, or reassurance. Both.

When Lucy appears in the threshold of Leo's quarters he is standing tall, his expression rigid as he speaks to two guards — only one she knows from the day before — packed with tension. His strong arms are crossed tightly over his chest and he hasn't changed. His greaves are still strapped to his shins, his leather guards still on his forearms, and the tunic he had been wearing under his armour is stained black and red. He looks like he hasn't slept a single moment since the attack, and she knows it in her gut to be true. As she leans against the frame and watches him with tenacious eyes she knows he'd stayed up there on that hill long after it was over. She knows that it'll be a long time before he sleeps well again.

When he finally notices her the relief in his eyes is nearly bursting. He dismisses the men quickly, and though he's clearly impatient to greet her, he remains planted in his place as he watches them leave the room to fulfill whatever task he had given them. She refuses to move for their burly figures as they squeeze, sideways, through the threshold. Formalities be damned.

"Lucy." Leo speaks with a vulnerable softness that wasn't there moments ago. The kind he reserves only for her. She moves to meet him in the middle and welcomes his tender embrace. "Are you okay?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing." She grins as she pulls away. Her eyes scan his face and his body, and with great alleviation finds that he is no worse for wear. No new cuts or bruises. She's thankful for that much.

"Virgo said she found you unconscious, just down the road." He speaks carefully and his eyes wander her figure just the same. His voice shakes, try as he might to keep it steady and sure for her sake. He matches her worries and scans for any visible injuries besides the dark bruising on her arms that turn his stomach. "I was so worried. I couldn't find you… I'd only hoped you had run home."

"That's where I was going." She tells him, her voice unfaltering. Anxiety slowly starts to inch its sticky fingers into her chest seeing how distraught he must have been. She knows in a few moments, she will have to make it worse.

"You fainted."

"I know." She responds. "I inhaled so much smoke, and I ran for so long. I think I hit my head when I fell, too."

"You fell?" He presses back into her space so quickly she nearly stumbles on her weakened legs.

She retreats. "I tripped, down the stairs. Please, I promise that I'm alright."

His breathing is heavy but he does his best to match her composure. She meant it when she told Virgo she didn't need to be nursed or babied just because she got a little hurt. She was tougher than that.

Looking over his shoulder and across the room to a well cushioned seat in the far corner, she ushers him over there with her hand on his shoulder. She knows he hasn't sat down in hours. He listens, rubs his face as he sits, sinking into the cushion and her with him. Lucy gives him a minute of respite. His skin is pale and he smells of smoke and sweat and wine, a combination she can't say she's a fan of. She notes to remind him to change his tunic. The one he wears… well, she can't imagine she'll keep the blood stained fabric after that.

"Sorry." He whispers. "It's been a long night. I'm glad you're okay."

She nods, watches him. Finally, carefully, she asks, "Do you know what happened?"

He seems caught off guard by her question, slipping from her lips smoothly and without hesitation. He takes a moment to take her in again, reading her eyes, trying to find something to anguish over. But she remains stead-fast and strong. Unmoving in her need to understand.

He finally secedes from the subtle stand off. "We don't know much of anything."

"Nothing at all?"

"No." The General continues. "The assailants came and left so quickly. They either dispersed, or they were dead by the time the smoke cleared. There was nobody I could capture and question."

Lucy listens. He takes another long pause to catch his breath. His mind is clearly moving at lightning speed behind his exhausted eyes, and she bends her neck to meet them. At first, it doesn't seem like he's willing to say anything more, like he thought that would be enough to satisfy her question and that would be the end of it. His worrisome wife didn't need to hear the rest of his thoughts on the matter, didn't need the traumatic experience brought up more than necessary.

Lucy won't have it. Not again. Not when plague knocked on their door. She will claw for information if she has to.

"I have some theories." Her husband finally continues, lets her hold his gaze. "Perhaps a group of rebels, or some sort of dark cult. Though I can't be sure what the motive would be." He takes a deep breath. "I know there has been an increase in tension with so many rural communities seeking refuge in behind the walls, but these people clearly knew how to handle weapons. Unfortunately, I have to consider that the Spartan's might be involved. The timing is… well."

This makes Lucy's jaw clench at the very idea. She's quick to shut it down, lest she sour. "They wouldn't send a handful soldiers to sneak in during the Panathenae just to make a mess and disappear, would they? They are far too prideful. Even I know that."

Her husband pauses again, taking in her words and mulling them around in his head. He stands to his feet. "You're right."

Lucy lets herself feel pride, just a pinch of it, as he accepts her input when she fully expected to have to fight harder. The attack happened to her too, afterall. She's not free of the harm those people caused, and Leo's exhaustion dulls his stubborn side.

"But I don't want you to worry about it." He tells her, as if on cue. He means it in kindness, but just like a few nights prior when she had expressed her horror about the illness spreading far worse than she had been lead to believe, it leaves a bitter taste in her mouth that she swallows down like stale bread. "It's being investigated."

It's now or never.

"They were looking for someone."

His hand shoots out to grab hers and the sheer velocity of it forces her to her feet. His eyes are wide once more. It's his turn to search for answers. His grip tightens around her fingers and it makes her hesitate to tell him exactly what happened to her. He could go the rest of his life not knowing a big, wretched man held a blade to her throat when he wasn't there to help, and he would be better off for it. But, she thinks, he needs to know the truth. Both as her friend and her husband, he should know. If her home is in danger, if an outside threat has crawled in through the cracks, she would spill it all. Not just for him, but for her people. She would never be a liar, not when he gripped her hands so tightly and his eyes housed so much, could she ever lie to him. She will not be withholding like he had been.

That's what she tells herself.

"One of them grabbed me."

Lucy tries to keep him grounded but he moves away too quickly. His face warps with dismay and fear and anything else in between. She can see the pulsing vein in his neck as his jaw tightens and his teeth squeeze. He looks about ready to start another war. Such a look on his face, the face she cares so much for, soaks her heart with regret.

"He didn't hurt me, I swear." She tries, urgent. "He held me and he threatened me but I wasn't going to go down without a fight. He told me that they were looking for somebody." She follows his steps around the room. She's never seen him so erratic. "He's dead Leo. I don't know who did it but somebody shot an arrow straight through his neck and I got away."

He stops his pacing. Her hand moves to his shoulder, to comfort him, to steady him. She squeezes.

"He didn't hurt me." She repeats. "Leo, look at me. I could have died, but I didn't. You were doing all you could. I'm alive. I need you to remember that. I am not going to waste any more of my energy on it. You shouldn't either." Leo moves away from her again and her hand falls. "I just… I though it would help. All I can do is tell you what I know, and that's what I know. Leo, please."

Slowly, like Atlas had shoved the universe onto his shoulders instead, he moves to the other side of the room and stops at the window that peers into the back garden. The sunlight frames him perfectly, but Lucy can see the tension he holds. It hurts her heart. She feels guilty, like she it had been wrong of her to tell him the truth. Where is her General gone?

For a long time no words are spoken. He stands and she watches, refusing to leave it at that. Refusing to leave him like this. It's painful, to stand so still. Her body still aches and there's a nagging in her mind that her duties remain undone. Her thoughts start to morph. Could she have done better? Could she have avoided this had she just ran faster, reacted quicker?

Could she have defended herself if she hadn't have been so scared? If she had been stronger?

He finally turns and she takes an unsteady step forward. His eyes don't meet hers though. Instead they trace her silhouette again, checking, observing, and searching. Gods, she wishes he wouldn't.

He points. "Virgo. She said you were missing your jewelry when she found you."

"Yes." Lucy nods in confirmation. "I believe somebody stole my gold when I was unconscious." His eyebrows furrow. "But that's alright, isn't it? It's just some jewelry."

"Yes, it's just some jewelry." He agrees with her, but she knows his thoughts are racing. It's not just jewelry to him. She can see the flood gates opening and she's powerless to stop the rush.

"Thank you, for telling me." He tells her earnestly, with the candor she was owed a week ago. "Any information helps."

Suddenly, he moves. Fast and determined. She maneuvers out of the way for him as he trudges out of the room and into the courtyard, startling a young woman taking water from the cistern with his sudden and aggressive appearance. Despite the agony in her bones, Lucy chases him.

"Where are you going?" She presses. So quickly she feels like the earth has been broken beneath her. She wants to scream after him, beg him to calm down and to look at her like a person. It's like he's been possessed and it unsettles her to her core.

"Lucy, after this incident I may be required to be away from home more often than normal." He replies firmly. "If every corner of our city needs to be scoured for these people, I need to be sure nothing is left un-turned. I need to ensure that you and our home are well protected."

"Leo," She almost laughs. "What are you doing?"

"Please, don't question my decisions." He stops, turns to face her in the middle of the courtyard. "You weren't the only survivor whose gold was stolen. I have reason to believe that if we have an outsider group or a cult within the city, you will be targeted again."

Don't question his decisions. She implodes.

"Then teach me how to defend myself!"

Her voice echoes through the yard and they both freeze. Lucy's hand meets her mouth in shock; she didn't mean to raise her voice, not like that, not to him. The house goes still. She knows everyone heard her, and her gut twists with shame. She was always told a woman should keep grace and elegance, never raise her voice, never be angry. Least of all shout at her husband. Everything that had ever been tattooed into her existence comes crawling like snakes up to the surface. Perhaps it was her possessed, not him.

She meant it nonetheless.

"I'm sorry." Lucy's arms fall to her sides and she takes a polite stance, lowering her gaze from Leo's shocked expression to the decorative mosaic below her. "I didn't mean to raise my voice like that."

Leo takes a deep breath, straight into his stomach. "It's alright."

Suddenly so good at remaining calm.

He approaches her yet again and Lucy sees his feet step into her vision. His hand reaches up and taps her chin, encouraging, not forcing her, to look up. She doesn't want to. She would rather the floor open up and haul her to Hades.

"I know you're shaken up from what happened last night." He stares into her eyes. It's his turn to search for understanding. "I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you. I'm going to make up for that."

"But you don't have to." There's a burning behind her eyes that she won't let pass. She cannot let pass. Her voice is eerily quiet to make up for her discomposure.

"I do. That's the promise I made." He tries to smile, a little twitch at the corners of his mouth. "You do not need to yield a weapon, or learn how to fight. No wife of mine should ever feel the need. I'm going to make sure you never have to face such vile creatures like that ever again. I will not fail you again."

The burning pushes, it insists, though she does not yield. Not when his calloused hands cup her cheeks. He means it wholeheartedly. Every word comes straight from his soul.

It sickens her.

Leo lets her go and starts moving again. "I'll be back, I promise."

Then he's gone like dust in the wind.

Lucy is left standing there in the courtyard longing to be swallowed up by Charybdis. Her knees threaten to buckle. Her ribs feel like they're shriveling in on themselves. She stares after him, at the path he took to leave her there, discouraged. The nerve of him to call her the anxious one. The nerve of him to claim worry would eat her alive when she just watched it consume him like a voracious beast.

"Lady Regulus?" The young woman from before, timid, speaks up. "Shall I get you some water for a bath?"

Lucy's vision goes red, just for a second, before she nods. "That would be most helpful, Phoibe, thank you."

As the woman leaves in a hurry, a single tear rolls down Lucy's cheek, mimicking the crack in the cage that keeps her spirit.

Athens' walls cry out her name.

The festival was enormous for a little girl her size.

Lucy, no older than seven, held tightly to her mother's hand as they made their way through the crowd. She could get hurt, her mother had warned her, if she got lost in the swarm. She had to stay close until they could stop and rest.

The little girl's focus was drawn to everything The grown ups with their shiny jewels, the young women with their long flowing hair who smiled down at her when they met her wide and curious eyes. One had even bent down to her height and handed her a small flower that her mother proceeded to tuck behind her ear. Everything was vibrant and shimmering and she was surrounded by joy and laughter as far as her eyes could see.

"Mama," She said, looking up. "Why is everyone so happy?"

Layla Heartfilia smiled at her daughter's question. Always so curious and pure of heart. "We're celebrating today, my sweet."

"What are we celebrating?"

Layla lead her daughter away from the concentrated crowd to the banks of the Eridanos river, where other children and families from all backgrounds were playing on the rocks and in the crystalline water. Not one to worry too much about her expensive robes, her mother gracefully sat down on the bank and held onto her daughter's small hands. "Well, you know our Goddess, Athena?"

Lucy nodded her head. Of course she did. And she made sure any other child she came across knew about her too. The mention of her name made her heart soar.

"Well, long ago," Her mother started, and Lucy knew to sit down and give her all of her attention. "When our great city was young, the mighty King Cecrops sought to find a patron God for our people. Both Poseidon and Athena expressed interest in our polis, seeing the same potential as the King. Instead of fighting, the people decided that each God would present a gift to the citizens and they would vote on who would become their patron, in order to prevent a war between the Gods."

Lucy listened intently, as she always did when her mother told her about the vast mythos around them.

"Up on the Acropolis hill, the Gods presented their gifts." Layla continued. "Poseidon struck his trident into the ground and water sprouted from the hill and flowed down into the city, and the people cheered. Athena struck her spear, and from it came a big, fruitful olive tree."

"Did they pick the tree over water?" Lucy grumbled, the pieces already coming together in her smart little brain. Her mother laughed.

"Let me finish, my sweet." A breeze rushed passed them, and Layla made the effort to fix the strands of hair that had fallen into her daughter's face. "Athena had been thoughtful. An olive tree would provide food, oil, wood, and shade for the people. Poseidon, on the other hand, had given them a spring, but as the God of the Sea, the spring was salt water, which made it undrinkable. So, the people chose Athena as their patron Goddess and named the city after her."

"Oh." Lucy's mouth fell agape. "That makes sense."

"It does." Her mother nods. "They say the tree that stands up there now is the same olive tree, still providing for us even now."

"Poseidon must have been very angry." The little girl snickered.

"He was." Layla nodded. "To appease him, they promised him his own temple on the hill."

Lucy moved to sit beside her mother instead of in front of her, and curled into her side. Together they watched the moving stream, a tortoise slowing inching up the shallow embankment.

"Athena proved her title as the Goddess of Wisdom that day. This festival was started by one of her sons to celebrate her and her patronage. We celebrate every year, but only once every four does it get this big." She gently nudged the little girl with a smile. "This isn't your first time, you know."

"It's not?"

"It's not. But you were too little to remember the first time." Layla's grin was Lucy's favourite.

A woman Lucy doesn't recognize carefully approached, dipped in just as much gold and jewel as Layla was. She wore a bright smile and her hair was a rich, deep orange sprinkled with strands of silver. There's a bundle in her arms, a little baby with a small tuft of pink hair on top of an otherwise bald head.

"You should have been a bard, Lady Heartfilia." The woman chuckles.

"Lady Regulus!"

Lucy watched, confused, as the two women politely embraced. She didn't recognize the woman her mother was greeting with enthusiastic familiarity, so she gripped her peplos and stood shyly behind her with a watchful eye on the stranger and the wriggling baby in her arms.

"You remember my daughter, Lucy."

Layla stepped aside and gently encouraged her little girl to step forward. The woman, Lady Regulus, knelt down to match her height.

"You've grown, little Lucy." She smiled, and the baby stirred. She noticed Lucy's eyes focus in on the infant, and with a quick adjustment of the blanket, she invited Lucy over with a gracious extension of her hand. "This is my daughter, Virgo."

The baby's face was round and squat, cherub cheeks flush with colour. Lucy became fascinated with the little thing, peeking into Lady Regulus' arms. Big, curious blue eyes met hers, and the infant giggled, which sent Lucy's lips into a cheek splitting smile.

"Finally a daughter after all your boys." Layla commented from behind, placed her hands on her daughter's shoulders to join in the admiration of the baby girl. "She's beautiful."

The orange haired woman laughed, light hearted, but tired. "Speaking of…" She glanced over her shoulder, to the river and beyond. "I've lost track of them."

Lucy's eyes followed her gaze, but only for a moment. There had to have been a hundred children running around the river. No wonder she lost them.

"Oh!" Lady Regulus suddenly stood, the baby gurgling at the sudden movement. The woman turned away and one of her arms reached up into the air to give a vigorous wave. "I see my oldest. Leo! Get back here!"

A young boy, not much older than Lucy, suddenly sprouted up from the water. His arms and legs were caked in the mud from the bank, and his hair as orange as his mother's was poking in every direction imaginable. He was quick to respond to the call of his name, grinning ear to ear as he approached with a skip in his step.

"Leo." Lady Regulus grabbed his hand. Not aggressively, but certainly with the determination to keep him from running off again. "This is Layla Heartfilia, and her daughter Lucy. She's about your age."

"Nice to meet you Leo." Layla smiles.

The little boy bowed his head in greeting, chivalrous and polite. "You as well, Lady Heartfilia. You look lovely!"

Layla covered her mouth and snickered, absolutely tickled pink. "Oh my. Thank you, Leo, you're very kind."

Lucy's brow furrowed at the interaction, having rarely seen her mother in such unadulterated glee. Of course her mother looked lovely. She thought that was the most obvious thing in the world, to everyone. Layla nudged at her back. "Say hello, Lucy."

"Oh, hi." She gave a small wave to the strange boy.

Leo lit up at the greeting, and she couldn't believe his smile could grow any wider. "Hi Lucy! I'm Leo." He returned her wave and she giggled at the mud on his hands. He clearly didn't care about looking too nice for the parade. "Lady Heartfilia, can Lucy come play?"

The two kids looked up at her expectantly. Her eyes go wide for a moment. All around them the throngs of people grew and shifted, ready to swallow any young child into the fray if they strayed too far. She was very aware of that, but she also knew that her little daughter's childhood was fleeting and temporary, and who was she to deny her that.

"If she wants to."

Lucy nodded, shy, but keeping a brave face. It wasn't often she got to play with children her age. The few cousins she had had always been a little too old, or a little too young, or a little too uninterested in her the few times they had been around. They were never very fun.

"Just be careful." Leo's mother told him as baby Virgo began to fuss and cry. "And find your brothers, will you?"

"I will." The boy agreed and unceremoniously took Lucy's hand and started pulling her towards the river where he came.

"Lucy, don't go too far!" Layla called out as the kids moved farther and farther away. "We still have to meet your father!"

"I won't mama!" Lucy responded.

"And don't get lost!"