It is Finished
Nike moves to the terrace, just outside the doors with their curtains swaying in the late afternoon breeze and looks across the valley at the city. It spreads out before her, and in the distance, she can see the majestic Acropolis of Athens, a site she has visited often over the years. But she dares not go there now.
Nothing had been the same since Zeus disappeared. He just left one day, never to return. It left those that followed him adrift. None more so than her brother Zelus.
Zelus. She had not thought of him for a long time, the memories too painful. He was gone, no longer of this realm, and she had come to believe there were no other realms in which he could reside, for surely, he would have found a way to communicate with her.
Kratos went west and took part in the new empire. The great Roman Empire, and she scoffed at how Kratos and others thought it would last, unlike their own. Fools, all of them. But the Romans had taken him in, made him a part of their people, for what empire intent on expansion didn’t take in anyone with great strength, and none had more than Kratos.
Well, there might be one, she thought.
She moved to the balustrade and looked down the slope of the mountain, then back up at the clear blue sky, wondering where in its vastness her sister Bia resided. The only one who may possess more strength than Kratos, for it was she who bound Prometheus when no other could.
She felt their connection, two sisters of old, spanning centuries. She thought of the myths that developed around Bia, the silliest being she did not speak. Of course, Bia could speak, but she had chosen not to speak more often than not, letting others do so for her.
The pain came again, and Nike leaned forward, compressing her stomach as he braced on the balustrade. It was happening with greater frequency, and she knew her time was short. When she looked at her reflection, she saw how she had aged in the last few months, more so than she had done in decades. Her life was about to end, and she was ready. She would greet death with a warm embrace after such a long life, the last decades alone in the old palace.
Once back inside, she lays down in the dark cool corner at the back of the room and closed her eyes. She wondered if this would be the last time, if this would be her final resting place. She drifted off to sleep and dreamed of her childhood. Of her and Bia chasing after their brothers, of their parents taking them to see Zeus.
Nike slipped into a deeper sleep, one that slowed her breathing until it stopped. Her mind carried her along, one dream after the next, until it simply took her to the dark void, and she ceased to be. Her body warmed until radiating heat like a fire, then it glowed brightly, filled the room with a blinding light. When the light disappeared, Nike’s body was gone.
In the realm of dream and fantasy, floating over the land, Bia came out to the small courtyard, down the steps, past the reflecting pool, until she stood at the gates that lead into the sky. Cloud floated around their perimeter, and she knew it covered the bottom of the palace, concealing it from the world below.
When humans learned to fly, and the day would come, then there would be no more places they could hide. But by then she knew most of her people would be gone.
She looked at the mountains below, the peaks covered in snow. The land her people had called home, the place where they lived among the humans lay to the south, and to the north, other tribes, some more violent and cruel than even the Romans. She caught her breath, a quick gasp, and felt something was wrong. She turned to go inside and stumbled, her coordination off. Hand clutched to her chest for she felt it centered there, she made her way inside.
Entering the cool interior, the main sitting room of the home she shared with her son. He was not there, and she was glad for he would worry over her. He must be in his room, or so she hoped.
Her son, the one she gave birth to after arriving all those years ago. The one no one knew a about, the one that didn’t exist in the myths and legends of the humans, or within the memory of her people. Not even Nike knew about him, for she had used all her powers of concealment. She told herself it was for his protection, but she knew it was also to keep him close, her little boy who would stay by her side. Problem was, after decades had past, he was no longer a little boy, but a young man, still youthful and lean like a human teenager, but mature and wise and eventually would want to leave this place to see the world below. He had hinted at it before, asking questions about the lands, its people, how they lived, and why they stayed away from them.
If he only knew their history. How they fought amongst themselves and with the humans. If he knew the unspeakable cruelty and violence that was directed at each other. Not even she was innocent, thinking of Prometheus, knowing not even he deserved what they…no she, did to him.
Another gasp for breath, as if the air was leaving the room. She moved to her favorite lounge chair, the one at the window that overlooked the courtyard, and lay down. What was happening to her. She had never felt such an odd sensation. She closed her eyes and tried to calm her breathing.
She saw Nike, asleep. No, not asleep, but in another state. She saw her sister’s breathing slow down until it stopped. The mind was still there for only a moment, some fragile connection that soon gave way. The body turned to bright light then disappeared. Nike was gone.
Bia gasped for breath, tried to sit up but was paralyzed. She remembered the special bond Nike and she had forged when just young women, and the promise woven into it. Now she knew its dangers. She lost consciousness, stopped breathing, then began to heat up as Nike had done.
Demos came down the corridor, a wide marble lined gallery with statues of those that came before him. Zeus, Pallas, Styx, and so many others. He moved through the quiet space, a space that felt sacred, until at the large double doors to the lounge. His mother’s favorite room for how it overlooked the courtyard. He raised his hand, and the doors swung open, and he knew immediately something was wrong. Something terrible that his mother had never warned him about.
He rushed into the room, seeing his mother lying on her chaise lounge appearing to be asleep, but he knew she was in no such state. There was no breath, no consciousness speaking to him through the realm. Nothing but a growing heat. The body suddenly burst into a bright light, and Demos shielded his eyes. When it stopped, he looked at the empty chaise lounge where his mother had been, knowing she was gone forever.
He stood frozen in place, shocked at her disappearance. So sudden, so permanent. He gasped for breath, struggled to control himself, failing miserably as tears came to his eyes blurring his vision.
Demos stood at the gate to the sky. He had his small satchel that held his most precious possessions and in his other hand he held what appeared to be a traditional Doru spear. It was more than a mere weapon, for it held powers handed down generations. His mother gave it to him when deemed old enough, powerful enough, to weld its power, and for decades he practiced with it.
He looked back at the place he considered home, feeling it was time to go. The power that held it in the sky was his mother’s and with her gone, he knew its time was limited. He opened the gate and stepped through it, disappearing into the blue sky.
As soon as Demos was gone, the clouds dissipated, and the palace began to break apart. It started falling, faster and faster. Halfway down it was just fragments, pieces of marble and stone and shattered furniture. Statues fell headless, armless, weaponless.
The ruins of the palace crashed into a lake on the southern edge of the mountains. A large freshwater lake of great depth. One that would conceal the ruins of Bia’s palace for all time. There would be legends and myths of an asteroid crashing into it one day, large enough to create great waves on its shores.
One among Many
Demos stepped back into the visible realm into a large meadow. Mountains rose up along the land to his back, and before him lay a road, one that he knew would take him to the city of Rome. He had considered the great empire in the far east, but Rome would be more familiar, with the influences of the Greeks on their culture, none more so than the legends surrounding his people who were viewed as gods among the humans. He had believed he was the last of his kind, but over the days after his mother’s disappearance, he felt one other. One who had to be Kratos, his uncle. His mother spoke of him, how he had gone to Rome. When asked what happened next, she claimed not to know. Did she lie or was Kratos concealing himself. Standing in the meadow, closer to Rome than ever before, he felt Kratos’ presence. The man who was like a god to the people of Rome.
Setting off, Demos walked to the road, then followed its old, weathered path, heading to the city.
The city was a hive of activity, and Demos followed his senses until he found himself standing in the doorway of a building looking up at a terrace of a government building. There were three Romans talking to a man Demos knew to be Kratos. Off to the side were soldiers guarding the men.
Demos studied the man that was his uncle, brother to his mother. He sensed the man’s ambition, his cruelty, wondering how such a man could be a part of his family. He saw how the other men deferred to Kratos, agreed with every statement. The nodding heads, the smiling replies, all false masks to their real feelings. Demos read the men, sensed how they distrusted Kratos, would strike out against him at the first opportunity.
Kratos said something to the men, then turned to look down, and Demos stepped back into the dark shadow of the doorway out of sight. He had grown careless, lowering his guard, thus revealing himself to Kratos. Standing the dark shadow, he concealed his mind from Kratos and waited.
When Kratos and the men stepped away, Demos stepped into the narrow lane and headed down the hill toward the sound of people and the smell of food cooking. He came into a market area and went to a street vendor cooking hare and boiling vegetables. Olives and a red fruit Demos knew to be tomato were laid out raw, sliced in thick slabs. He produced a coin, one he created in the likeness the other carried, and he took pieces of cooked meat, a bowl of vegetables with slices of tomato on top and sat a small table against the wall of the building behind the vendor. He ate slowly, watching the people stroll by or barter for goods being sold by other vendors or purchase food for themselves, one man joining him at the table.
“Best food on the street, don’t you agree,” the man said to Demos.
“Yes, it is very good,” Demos replied as he watched in disbelief the man scarf down his food.
“You’re not Roman.”
“No, I’m…”
What to say, Demos wasn’t sure, and the man was waiting for his reply, growing suspicious at his hesitation. “I’m Greek but know the language of Rome. I have family living here.”
“Come to visit?”
“Yes. I’ve come for a visit.”
It seemed to satisfy the man, who stood up and disappeared in the crowd.
Demos strolled through one market then the next. Aimlessly, he walked among the people while reading the two Roman soldiers who had been following him since that morning when he spied on Kratos. He led them around Rome, keeping to the most public areas. He sensed how they kept their distance, making him wonder what their intent was. He didn’t sense any danger from the two men, but it troubled him he lost his sense of Kratos after being seen spying on him.
He needed to circle back to locate his uncle, but he wanted to wait until dark when it would be easier to lose the two Roman soldiers and stay concealed with the darkness. He walked past a man selling trinkets, small carvings that were supposed to be his relatives, gods the man called them. It amused him how inaccurate the carvings were, and he had been tempted to see if one was a representation of his mother.
Suddenly he sensed the two Roman soldiers were distracted, some commotion near them capturing their attention. Demos rushed over to an alley and moved down it. He got to its end where it connected to another alley, wider, running along the back of the buildings facing the lanes. He turned left, climbing steps that lead up to one level, then another. He came to another cross alley and turned down it moving further away from the Roman Soldiers.
A hand grabbed him by the throat and pushed him against the wall, feet barely touching the ground.
“Who are you?”
It was Kratos, his uncle. He stared into the dark brown eyes seeing the anger, a desire to cause him harm. Demos stared back unable to speak, the hand on his throat too tight. He stared back wondering if his uncle would strangle him. He lowered his guard, let Kratos read him. He saw confusion, then shock. The hand loosened, then let him go as Kratos stepped back.
“Bia is your mother?”
“Was my mother.”
“She’s gone?”
“Yes.”
Kratos took a deep breath and looked up into the sky. The brown eyes changed, then turned back to Demos. “Like Nike.”
It wasn’t a question, but a statement of fact.
“Nike is gone too?”
“Yes.”
A silence hovered over them, and Demos saw Kratos’ features soften, the anger drained from him.
The room was dark except for the lanterns hung from the walls. Demos sat on a chaise lounge as Kratos stood at the open doors to a terrace looking out into the dark sky and the sleeping city of Rome.
“I didn’t even know Bia had been pregnant,” said Kratos.
“She had thought it best to hide it from everyone,” said Demos, thinking of all the times Bia had answered his repeated question about why they were alone, hidden away in the palace floating in the sky.
“Those two sisters of mine.” Kratos sounded as if he were going to laugh. “I wonder what other secrets this family has kept.”
“I have wondered the same.”
Kratos turned and looked at Demos as if he understood him for the first time.
“What will you do?” asked Kratos.
“I have no idea. What does someone like me do in this world?”
Kratos was silent for so long Demos thought he would not answer. But Kratos turned and came back over to Demos sitting in a chair close to the foot of the chaise lounge. He leaned back, crossing one leg over the other and considered Demos.
“We do what we have always done. We lead these humans, guide them, control their worst impulses, and help them build great empires.”
Demos scoffed, then regretted doing it so obviously. “Their worst impulses? Are we no better?”
Kratos laughed. “Of course. We have our jealousies and misdeeds, but the humans would destroy each other and shit where they lie if not for us.”
“But who’s left of our people?”
“You…me…maybe a few others. I sense there are others at times, but they are guarded.”
“And you’re going to guide the humans, these Romans to build an even larger empire?”
“It’ll be the grandest empire the world has ever known.”
“I don’t think my mother would approve of such.”
Kratos laughed, then looked at Demos with such intensity it made him look away.
“Your mother wouldn’t approve? I doubt that. She could be the most cunning amongst us, even more so than Nike, and especially that fool Prometheus.” Kratos laughed again, harder, louder, then he stood up and began to pace in a circle. “Poor ole Prometheus,” he said with such sarcasm Demos heard the cruel intent of it. “What my dear sweet sister did to him. It was glorious the way she made him suffer.
“And she made him suffer.”
“My mother wouldn’t…” stammered Demos.
“NO? Boy, did you even know your mother?”
“She changed.”
“No doubt she put up a good front for her son she kept secreted away.”
Demos wanted to leave. He wanted to get away from Kratos, for it had been a mistake to come to Rome to find him.
Kratos sighed, then turned back to Demos with a softened expression, once again looking like a man who cared. “Let’s not argue. It’s just the two of us now. Why don’t we call it a night, and after much needed rest for the two of us, we can talk tomorrow. And if you’re up for it, I’ll show you the splendors of Rome.”
Demos lay in bed, early morning light spilling into the room. He thought of the last two months living with Kratos, listening to him orate over and over on how he would build the greatest empire for the Romans. Of plans to expand to the east and west, even crossing the great waters to other lands. How Kratos had built a vast army, striking out into the old lands to the east and crossing the Mediterranean.
It had all sounded so grand, so noble, but even to Demos it sounded as foolhardy as any human endeavor for power and control. He wondered how his uncle could believe such. How he could be so vainglorious, so weak with human emotion as to want an empire. Then he overhead his uncle the night before. The door to Kratos room was ajar and just before he meant to knock to inquire about their plans come spring, he overhead him talking aloud. He knew no one else would be in the room, for Kratos didn’t even allow servants to enter his most private chamber, so he held his hand and listened.
…Bia…Nike…I’m going to show the world their greatest wrong. They turned their backs on us, discarded us as if we meant nothing back in Greece. I’ll use these fools, and their greed and lust for power make them fools. I’ll use them to show the world the futile nature of humans. I’ll drive them to expand their empire until the weaknesses show. Until it cracks and tears them apart…
Kratos wasn’t expanding the Roman Empire to create something grand and all powerful, he was expanding it until it could no longer support itself. Demos knew he must be guarded with this secret. He must not let Kratos know he overhead the ramblings of a mad man. And Kratos was mad. A mad man seeking destruction and chaos.
After eating, he went out into the city to stroll the streets, visiting markets, public squares, and the monuments created with such beauty. He read the public, picking a man or woman at random to know their attitudes, their emotions of their city and the power it welded over the region.
As he strolled one street or another, he sensed he was being followed, but every look back, every reaching out to sense those around him, revealed no one but the humans around him. He didn’t see anyone duck into a doorway or down an alley. No one turned suddenly to face away from him, and he never got a read on anyone who was watching him.
The One Who Watches
Moving over roof tops, slipping down alleys, or just standing at a window overlooking the street below, he watched the young Demosthenes. He tried to read him to discover the connection to Kratos. The young man with the dark curly hair and dark brown eyes was constantly guarded, as if he knew the danger of letting others read him.
Aidos, the secret son of Aegon, stood on a roof terrace overlooking the market lining the street below watching Demos stroll among the stalls. Did he really have interest in the junk the humans were selling or was he just curious. Aidos never saw him buy anything.
It had been a month since he arrived in the city, and he had found the one whom he was seeking. Kratos, the son of Pallas and Styx, brother to Nike, Zelus, and the sister that had done the torture of Prometheus, Bia. No one knew where Bia had disappeared. Some said she was gone like the others, left this realm for another, but Aegon had said the bitch was still in this realm, for she could feel her, hovering in space somewhere on earth.
Watching Demos turn down a side street, Aidos thought of his mother’s anger. How she ranted night and day of the wrongs done to them, and no one was the target of her anger like Kratos and Bia. He tried to feel that anger, to feel the same toward Demos, but he didn’t have the fuel of past wrongs to build such a fiery anger. In some moments, he found himself looking at Demos with something other than hate. With curiosity of who Demos was and if Demos was as removed from their past as he. And in times of weakness, he looked upon the young Demos with desire. He let himself feel his attraction toward other men, and with Demos it was easy to forget the past and look at him with lust.
When Demos stepped around a corner out of sight, Aidos slipped into the other realm and back into the room he was renting. The one that overlooked the River Tiber with the small island in the curve and beyond, over the city’s skyline, just to the east, he could see the top of the Colosseum. He stood at the window looking out, feeling his confused emotions about Demos. He wondered when the time came, would he kill him or try to seduce him.
It was Kratos his mother had warned him about. Repeatedly, she warned of Kratos’ nature, the cruelty of it, how the man sought to show his power, but always in the most cunning ways. Aidos knew it was Kratos he must face to acquire the closure he sought for all the wrongs done to his family. It was Kratos that he sensed was the one to focus his attention.
As he touched himself, took his hardening cock in hand to find release, it was Demosthenes he thought about, the young man who aroused something inside him to the point he was confused. But he wasn’t confused about how he was attracted to Demos. His chest and stomach would soon be covered in the evidence of such desire.
Young Love
Demos found himself going out into the city less frequently, instead spending more time watching the young soldiers specially selected by Kratos train in the courtyard below his room. He watched the muscular young men demonstrate their agility, their strength, and cunning in combat. They had been Centurions, leaders in the army, and Kratos had chosen twenty of them to form a special guard that would accompany him when he went with the Roman Legions on some future quest. Demos knew the real plot was to stretch out the Roman legion until it was unsustainable. Kratos would push them beyond their limits then come back to Rome to proclaim their success, knowing the rapid expansion would soon show its weaknesses.
He watched the selected soldiers train, his eyes going to one in particular time and time again. Iovianus. He had asked his uncle the young soldier’s name pretending to be impressed by skill shown in combat training. But it was the muscular body, the way biceps flexed, how the bare chest showed such definition when stripped to the waist after training, or how the cock hung heavy over its sac when he spied on the young soldier at the bath.
He vowed to speak to Iovianus before the day’s end, for he could no longer tolerate just watching from afar or spying around some corner. Even if Iovianus showed no interest, he had to get close to him, look into the face with its dark brown eyes and strong nose and jaw, and he had to hear the man’s voice up close, just once hear the husky nature of it that he had only heard from afar, too often mixed with the voices of the others. He wanted to hear it pure and clear, hear it speak words to him, just him.
He knew it was silly how he lusted after the human, but there was no one else, none like him, and he was lonely.
Demos felt like a fool and knew his face was probably red with his embarrassment. He saw the looks of the soldiers as they passed heading inside to clean up after a hard day’s training. The frowns, the smirks, and the chuckles, each one knowing he was Kratos’ nephew. Iovianus was next to last, stripped to the waist revealing his muscular upper body, one with a scare across the stomach and on the left shoulder blade. Finally close enough to get the full measure of the man, Demos saw he was shorter than him, a full hand shorter, but he also saw the strength in the body, and he stared at him until the brown eyes looked up seeing his stare. A smile. A nod of the head in acknowledgement, and Iovianus passed by him following his fellow soldiers, not once looking back.
Demos stood on the small balcony of his room staring across the city as the moon hovered low in the eastern sky. He saw the light of torches and fires and heard the people of the city in conversation, from his balcony a white noise of sound, but if he listened, he heard their joys and sorrows and kindnesses and cruelties. Down below, he saw the empty courtyard picturing Iovianus training with the others earlier in the day. Sword play, throwing spears at targets, and wrestling in preparation for hand-to-hand combat.
A knock and he turned, looking across his room sensing Iovianus on the other side of the heavy wooden door. He had summoned him on the pretext of wanting personal training. A worthy lie if it gained so much as a few minutes alone with the man. Another knock, then his name called out, muffled by the thick wood door. He crossed the room and swung the door open to reveal Iovianus. Demos was surprised by his dress, just a simple wrap around the waist leaving the upper body bare. Did Iovianus know his intentions. He stepped aside and invited him into his room.
“Quintus said you wanted to train in combat tactics,” said Iovianus as he walked past Demos.
“I was thinking about it.”
“Forgive me for saying it, but I don’t think combat training is suitable for you.”
“How would you know? You’ve not tested me.”
Iovianus smiled, shaking his head. “I think you want something else.”
Demos was surprised by the directness. A soldier so bold with someone who was the nephew of someone as important as Kratos.
“What do you think I want?”
Iovianus stepped closer, close enough they could reach out and touch each other. “I’ve seen you watching me. For days you stand on that balcony and watch me practice. You sneak into the bath and watch me bathe, and now you have some pretense of wanting to train to get me into your room.
Demos liked the boldness of Iovianus. He smiled back and reached out undoing the garment around the narrow waist letting it fall to the floor. Iovianus stood naked before him, thick heavy cock flexing as he stared at it, and when he looked up, he saw the dark brown eyes staring back.
“What do you want from me?” said Iovianus.
“The pleasure two men can share with each other,” said Demos as he undid his own garment, tugged it over his head and dropped it on the floor, standing just as naked and growing just as aroused.
Iovianus reached out and touched his chest, raked fingers over it until moving up along the neck. He cupped the back of it and pulled Demos to him. “You’re not teasing me, are you?”
“No,” uttered Demos, and he kissed Iovianus.
Demos let Iovianus pick him up and carry him to his bed. He lay back as the muscular soldier straddled his chest pinning his arms underneath each leg. Iovianus took his cock and slapped it across Demos’ face, then he rubbed it over the lips.
“Show me how you want it,” said Iovianus.
Demos smiled, then opened his mouth to the cock. Iovianus pushed it between the lips and over the tongue until it entered the throat.
“Fuck, that’s it, take all of it,” said Iovianus.
Demos sucked. Sucked to make Iovianus come. He wanted it. Moving his lips along the cock he felt hands rest on his shoulders, then fingers dig into them, their grip tightening, then Iovianus filled his mouth with cum.
Demos had barely swallowed when Iovianus was between his legs, taking each behind the knee. He watched how Iovianus lifted each leg then pushed them down until thighs were tight to his chest. Iovianus leaned over him, and he felt cock touch him, press against his tight opening.
“Do you want me?” said Iovianus.
“Yes.”
Cock bore through his tightness. He stretched to take it, the head then the shaft until hips pressed against his ass. As Iovianus held cock in his depths, he shivered with the pain of the penetration, clutching the bed waiting to adjust to it.
The pain eased and Demos tried to push upward to get Iovianus deeper.
“Fuck me,” said Demos.
Iovianus smiled, then began to fuck. Slowly, tugging nearly free then pushing back into Demos depths. He worked up a faster pace until Demos was grunting and moaning with every shove inward. The bed squeaked and rocked beneath them, then Iovianus pushed himself up, pressing thighs tight to Demos’ chest making each breath a struggle. Iovianus fucked harder, with greater physicality. He hammered Demos’ insides until cum spread over Demos’ stomach, cock ejaculating wad after wad. Then Iovianus shoved into Demos’ depths and came.
For days, Demos lured Iovianus to his room. During the day when others were resting from training. Or in the evenings, taking him to his bed where he kept him until the morning. He found himself repeating the whispered confessions by Iovianus during the night. Yes, I love you too. And he did in his own way. He loved the feel of the human beneath him, legs on his shoulders or wrapped around his waist. He loved the feel of the narrow waist in his hands as Iovianus plunged cock into the depths of his ass. He loved how Iovianus responded to him, came to him when called, obedient, subservient, willing at times. At other times he was brutish, physical, and it aroused Demos just as much. He pumped cum down the soldiers throat and ass until exhausted. And it took Iovianus’ cum just as willingly. Swallowing a load or taking it in the ass until it trickled down his thigh.
Demos was beginning to considered a formal arrangement. Some way to make Iovianus his and his alone.
His uncle knew what was happening, for it would be too easy to read Iovianus, to know what the man was thinking. He had read him, knew of the man’s love for him and the desire to please. Kratos merely smiled knowingly and told him offhand a few times to enjoy it while it lasted, for it never lasted.
Discovery
Aidos couldn’t watch Demos fuck that soldier. He had done so during their first night together hovering outside the window to Demos’ room. He had watched Demos take the soldier’s thick cock fucking to the point of exhaustion, making the man love him. Despite not being able to read Demos, he knew there was no way someone like him could return that love. There was no way one of their kind could truly love a human. Their life spans so short that no lasting relationship could be expected. But as the days went on, Iovianus’ thoughts so lurid and vivid, Aidos turned his attention to the one he considered his one true enemy. Kratos.
He kept a safe distance, reading those around him, knowing much was still concealed. The expansion plans, the movement of soldiers to various fronts, and the ship building were things he easily read from the men Kratos met with. When Kratos overlooked soldier training sessions, Aidos infiltrated the support staff, dressing as someone who retrieved weapons or brought the men water just to get close.
One night, the heat of the day still lingering in the air, Aidos hovered outside Kratos quarters as a meeting occurred with one of the legatus legionis on the status of the legion set for a special mission to the north. It bored him to listen to the stats, the number of men ready to take leadership roles, the mapping that had they had been able to create, knowing the soldiers would eventually be in uncharted territory. When the legatus legionis left, Kratos sat at his desk. It was quiet, too quiet, and Aidos knew Kratos was in a guarded mindset.
A knock at his door and a call out to enter, allowing two soldiers to enter his room. They were centurions, each dressed casually in a tunic. Kratos led the two soldiers to the terrace forcing Aidos to move upward and behind a parapet. He looked over it, down at the two soldiers easily reading the two men. There was a secret plan, one meant to guard against someone Kratos considered a threat to his control and power over the legions of soldiers.
We understand whom he is having an affair.
We know where he resides as well as the soldier.
We’ll strike late at night when they like to stroll the city.
It’ll look like a robbery, and we’ll make sure neither survive.
Yes, yes, we understand, your nephew is not to survive, for he is the one.
Aidos eased down and sat against the parapet trying to understand why Kratos would have his own nephew murdered. Was Demos really such a threat to his power. It seemed outlandish. He wondered if he should let them kill each other but knew the most cruel and powerful would always come out on top. And that would be Kratos. What he could do about the threat to Demos, he wasn’t sure, but anything he did could expose him. Bring his presence in the city to the attention of Kratos.
Demos moved over Iovianus, working his hips, pumping cock into the depths of the ass spread beneath him. Kisses moved up his neck, this to his own lips. Iovianus was such a forbidden pleasure. To the city, Iovianus was just a soldier, a tool for the empire. To Demos he was someone who gave him pleasure and afterward, laying in each other’s arms exhausted and spent, an intimacy he didn’t know could exist.
Demos rolled Iovianus to his stomach and he moved over the muscular body. He pushed his cock between the firm round ass cheeks and penetrated him again. As he pushed into Iovianus’ depths, he kissed the back between the shoulder blades then up to the neck where his nose raked through the sweaty hair capturing the man’s scent as he pressed lips to the smooth skin. He slid hands along Iovianus’ arms until he laced their fingers together holding the hands down as he increased his pace.
“Demos…please…”
Demos fucked hard, hips smacking the ass. He tugged on an earlobe, nipped and kissed the skin at the base of the neck. He wanted Iovianus, desired the man more than he knew was possible. It consumed him this passion for another. He fucked until his own body felt feverish, burning up with his exertions. Sweat trickled down his face, back, and chest. It rained down on Iovianus whose skin glistened in the dim light of the torch flames.
Demos rolled to his back gasping for breath. He didn’t need to say anything for Iovianus knew what was desired. Iovianus got on his knees and straddled Demos. He rubbed his ass over Demos’ cock, back and forth smearing the cock’s slick on it. Then he rose and took Demos in hand. When he lowered himself, he didn’t stop until fully impaled on the thick cock. He moved up and down, slowly so he could feel the cock move through his loosened opening. It was a tease for Demos, pushing him to the very edge of release but never far enough to come.
“Iovianus, you demon, let me come.”
Iovianus smiled, then moved with an urgency. He fucked his ass on Demos’ cock determined to get him off. He smacked down on the hips then rose until nearly letting the cock slip free. He took his own cock in hand and stroked it with a furious pace, one matching his fuck.
“Fuck,” Iovianus cried out as he showered Demos with cum.
Demos threw his head back and gasped for breath as hot wads of cum landed on his chest and stomach. The scent filled his lungs until it seemed the whole world was just Iovianus and him. Then he shoved upward and came.
It was late, but people still roamed the streets. Demos led Iovianus toward the small market area that had food vendors that stayed open late into the night. They bumped shoulders and laughed and talked about nothing of importance as they made their way down on lane then the next.
“I know a shortcut,” said Iovianus, pulling Demos into a narrow alley.
They maneuvered around the junk that cluttered the narrow alley, making their way toward the torch light at the other end. Suddenly two men dropped down in front of them. Before Demos or Iovianus could react, two more dropped down behind them. Demos saw the blade of a sword come out of Iovianus’ stomach, dark, covered in blood. Iovianus gasped then tried to speak as he started dropping to the ground.
“NO,” Demos cried out and before he could respond, someone dropped behind the two men behind them and just as quick both dropped with their throats slit.
“Demos, come with me. Your life is in danger,” as this new man grabbed Demos by the wrist and tugged him back up the alley.
When near the end of the alley, Demos saw the man look back and hold out his hand.
“Stop,” the man cried out, and Demos looked down the alley at the two men pursuing them. They blew backward as if hit with a large fist. They landed with a loud thud crashing through junk laying along the walls. “Demos, come, there may be more soldiers nearby.”
It was at this point Demos knew this person was like himself.
Demos looked around the dwelling, one three floors over the street. It was sparsely furnished but torches lined the walls bringing the room into full light. Then he turned to the man who had saved him. He looked young. Could be considered a teenager by most, but Demos sensed him and knew he was much older. As old as he.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Aidos, son of Aegon. And you are Demosthenes, son of Bia.”
“You’re the son of Aegon? I did not know he had a son.”
“Nor did anyone know Bia had a son, until now.”
“Why did you save me? We’re supposed to be enemies. Aegon was a follower of Prometheus and…”
Demos didn’t know how to say it. That it was his mother and Kratos who captured Prometheus and tortured him.
“Yes, that is right. Considering our shared history, one that our parents hid from us, you should be considered an enemy. But I’ve watched you and you are not like Kratos or the others. You seem different, not really part of their schemes and maneuvers.”
“They knew it’s cruel,” Demos whispered.
“And violent to the point no one escapes for long.”
“Iovianus,” Demos cried out. “They killed him.”
“But it was you they were after.”
“Me?”
“Yes.”
“Who would want to kill me?”
“Someone afraid of you. Afraid you could usurp him, take power from him.”
“My uncle?”
“Yes, I’m afraid so. I overheard him telling some men.”
“You overhead Kratos?”
“Not Kratos for he blocks his mind, but the men he was conversing, those minds are weak and easily read.”
“And he was going to have me killed.”
“Yes.”
“So, I got Iovianus killed.”
Aidos didn’t reply to the comment but went to a side table and pour a cup of wine for Demos.
“Here, drink this and try to get some rest.”
A New Beginning
For days, Aidos let Demos mourn and process what had happened. But he kept a watch on him. In the process, he studied him. At times, Demos lowered his guard, and he read him. He saw the conflicted nature, the loneliness, and a desire not to be like Kratos. It was a state of mind he recognized, and it was not lost on him other similarities. They were about the same height, the same lean muscular build and even had the same black curly hair and dark brown eyes, although Demos’ eyes were so dark they looked black while his own had a gold tint to them. At first, he considered Demos like a long-lost brother, sarcastically he imagined Demos came from the black sheep side of the family. But the reality was more innocent, and it sadden him to see Demos struggle with what had happened. He knew their shared history and all its cruelty and violence, and it seemed Kratos was continuing that violence against his own family.
Eventually, Demos seemed to have come to some conclusions and Aidos found him standing before him.
“Demos?”
“Can we talk?”
“Sure.”
“My uncle wants to kill me for he fears I’ll take his power?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Excuse me?”
“Why does he think I’ll do that?”
Aidos didn’t know how much to reveal, but holding back seemed foolish. He sat up and motioned Demos to have a seat.
“Your uncle is pushing the Romans into a rapid expansion. It seemed crazy to me until I found out it is deliberate. He plans to stretch the empire out until it can’t support itself.”
“I found out the same intention. But why?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe some revenge from some incident with the Greeks, or maybe he thinks he can step in and be the leader of the humans with some empire he will lead.”
“That’s crazy. If mom were here to hear this, she would be shocked.”
“What was your mother like?”
“She was kind and loving and overly protective.”
“Did she ever talk about our shared history?”
“Some, but not in any real detail. Just a vague reference to her parents or siblings, mostly Nike and Zelus. She rarely mentioned Kratos.”
“Odd, for it was with him she did so much during the conflicts. What they did to Prometheus was horrible.”
“Whenever I asked about the past, she changed the subject.”
“Dad kept telling me it was ancient history and to forget it.”
They fell silent until Aidos stood to his feet.
“You up for going out?”
“Is it safe?”
Aidos smiled. “It is here.”
“Where are we?”
“Athens.”
“Athens? When…how—”
“I think you know the answer to that.”
Aidos led Demos from the market down to the beach. They walked down to the shoreline where waves lapped at their feet. Demos kept looking over at Aidos with torn feelings. He felt like he should keep his distance, not get too close to him. Aidos was after all the son of Aegon. But he was drawn to him. Emotions he thought had died with Iovianus’ death were resurfacing. It seemed too soon, only four months. Four months of living in Athens hidden away from Kratos and his Roman legions. Four months of living with Aidos, seeing him sitting quietly reading, or eating with relish, smiling at the taste of some sweet fruit or perfectly cooked meat. He had watched Aidos sleep, studying the face. The strong nose, the line of jaw, the sensual lips, and long eye lashes. He became enamored with Aidos to the point he imagined kissing him.
“I feel drawn to you,” uttered Demos, a confession he had to state. He had felt it for some time, and it was making him mad to keep it to himself.
Aidos didn’t reply for a long time and Demos started to tell him to forget it, that it he was being silly. But then an arm brushed his arm, then Aidos was standing in front of him making him stop.
“It frightens me how I’m drawn to you, the son of Bia.”
“Do we have to relive their past?”
“Can you forget it?”
“I barely know it, so yes, I can let it go. Can you? You’re the one who knows it.”
“Not much better than you. But can I forget it?”
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said it.”
“But I’m glad you did. I wish I had your courage.”
“What? You saved me from four soldiers and—”
“That is a different courage, one of necessity. But the courage to express one’s desires…”
“Do you like me?”
“Yes, more than I can admit. I’m drawn to you in ways I have never been drawn toward anyone else.”
Demos held out his hand and Aidos slipped his into it.
“Come Aidos, let’s go home.”
Demos let Aidos strip him until he stood naked. He stepped back and lay on the chaise lounge by the door facing the interior courtyard. He watched Aidos strip off his own clothing until naked, then come to him. He spread his legs and held out his arms as Aidos eased down on top of him. He felt the cock nestle next to his own and the small undulations that rubbed them together. He moaned when lips touched his neck, and when he turned his head Aidos kissed him, passionately, with such physicality it made him breathless. Hands moved down his sides until cupping his ass and he raised his legs wrapping them around the narrow waist. Aidos’ cock slipped below his nuts and rubbed over his tight opening. He moaned, then laid his head back.
“Aidos…fuck me.”
Cock was put to his opening, then it pushed through his tightness. He shuddered as his hole stretched to take Aidos. The cock sank deeper and deeper until he didn’t know how he could take it all, then he felt Aidos tug outward, push inward, slowly, building up the rhythm of a fuck. The undulating stomach made his own cock so hard it ached for release. Hands held his ass, fingers digging into the firm flesh, holding him in place as Aidos pushed deeper and deeper until pressing against his ass.
Aidos rose to his feet, took Demos by the ankles, and pushed back into his depths.
“Fuck,” Aidos exclaimed as he built up a steady pace, fucking with such exertion his dark skin glistened in the light.
Demos took his own cock in hand, and he matched the pace of Aidos’ fuck. As cock pumped inside him, he felt his own swell thick and harder in his hand.
“I’m going to come,” uttered Demos.
Demos arched his back, pushing cock through his fist and ass against Aidos’ hips. With cock buried inside him, he came, shuddering and jerking with each ejaculation. Cum hit him in the face, roped up his chest, then rained down on his stomach. Then Aidos pushed his legs down until his thighs were pressed to his chest and fucked harder, faster, until he too was shuddering with release.
Aidos lay next to him, their sweaty bodies rubbing together. Aidos ran fingers through the cum on his chest and licked it off, then leaned over and kissed him, then licked the cum from his cheek.
“Demos, will you share my bed?”
“Yes.”
“Then come, nap with me.”
Standing on the roof terrace overlooking the city, Aidos came up next to Demos holding out a cup of wine. The sun was low in the western sky bringing another day to an end. Aidos snapped his fingers and the torches around terrace ignited, pushing away the shadows.
“It’s a beautiful sunset,” said Aidos. It never failed to bring a smile to him for he loved the city and his time with Aidos over the last year.
“It is.”
“But we have to go back to Rome.”
Surprised by Aidos comment, Demos turned to him. “How did you know I was thinking about going back.”
“Because I would. Your uncle betrayed you and you can’t let him get away with it.”
“I can’t let him continue with his plans. If it was just about me, I’d disappear and forget him.”
Aidos laughed. “We are not what our parents expected.”
“I’m not so sure. I think mother regretted much and saw in me an opportunity to set things right.”
“Whether that is true or not, doesn’t matter. It’s a matter of if we make it true.”
“We? This is not your fight.”
“OH, but it is. I’m not letting you go alone.”
“You know there is only one way to stop Kratos.”
“Yes, I know. Send him to the void.”
Kratos leads his men out of Rome heading north. He’ll take them into the mountains and into the hands of the enemy. To the far west, the expansion within Britannia was progressing. He knew within a few years the armies would be stretched too far north. He smiled at the how the Romans followed his plans, arrogant about their chances of success. He used the conceit, setting the stage for their fall, and he would watch it, all of it, and when the time was right, he would gather the remains under his control and make the kingdom his people had always deserved. Humans submissive to his every need and whim.
The road built by the empire came to an end and Kratos led the men onward along the dusty lane that entered the mountains. They would camp at the overlook, a flat area large enough for setting up for the night.
As they moved up the incline, Kratos thought of Demosthenes. It was a shame, but Demos had been a threat to his power and there was nothing he could have done differently. He replayed that night, how he lost four most trusted soldiers and but when they brought Demo’s lover, the soldier Iovianus before him, bloody and very much dead, he had asked about Demos, wanting to see his body.
He disappeared.
Like his mother, his sister Bia and their sister, Nike. The disappearing from this realm to go into the void. Or that is what they believed happened, although no one was sure for no one ever came back. All Kratos cared about was the boy was gone, out of his life, and he was free to continue his plan.
The camp grew quiet as the night settled over the mountain. Most soldiers were asleep with just a few patrolling the perimeter, mainly the lane and the woods that rose over the plateau. But Kratos couldn’t sleep. He sensed some foreboding, something not in alignment in the universe. He went out into the night, a few scattered torches giving some illumination in the camp, but he strolled toward the edge of the level area overlooking the valley where the darkness was complete, only the stars and moon providing light.
It was silent, too silent, and he drew his sword for an enemy he couldn’t name. He looked through the darkness into the red realm, then the green realm. He was alone. He looked down into the valley expecting to see men with torches coming to attack them in the night, but the road was dark, just a part of the overall landscape stretching out below him. He sheathed his sword and turned to go back when someone stepped out of the realm before him. At first, he thought it was Demosthenes for the body was so similar, but the person allowed him to read them as they blocked his way back.
“You’re the son of Aegon,” said Kratos with shock. Another he knew nothing about.
“Yes.”
“What do you want,” said Kratos putting his hand on the pommel ready to slip his hand around the handgrip and unsheathe his sword.
“To stop you.”
Kratos laughed, then he took a step toward the son of Aegon.
“What is your name so that I may know what to put on your grave.”
“You’ll not be having my name carved into a stone. But if you must know, I’m Aidos, son of Aegon, lover of Demosthenes.”
The reference to Demos threw Kratos. It was the last name he expected to hear from this boy. He drew his sword as a diversion as he prepared to use his power. Then he felt him, Demosthenes, right behind him. Then he felt the blade of a sword push through his stomach.
“This is for Iovianus,” whispered Demos.
Kratos felt the penetration, the burning pain of it. He fell to the ground when the sword was pulled back through his gut, and he rolled to his back seeing Demos and Aidos standing over him. He tried to summon his power, to bring healing, then he tried to use it on Demos, the one that betrayed him, forgetting it was he that made the first move. His mind was fracturing, memories all jumbled up, then he felt feverish. He grew hot and he saw Demos and Aidos move out of his sight.
Demos watched his uncle’s body as it began to glow, then just as quickly, it disappeared. He looked at the ground where Kratos had been laying, wondering if it was really over. A hand slipped into his own and he turned to look at Aidos.
“Demos, it’s done. Let us leave this place.”
On a highway that cut a path through the rolling countryside, a silver Phantom moved slowly along its smooth surface. The huge car moved with ease undisturbed by imperfections in the pavement or by the atmosphere it was pushing through. It motored toward Tauranga for a night out. Just a simple dinner at a restaurant in a city on the northern coast of New Zealand. It eased into the traffic heading into the city slipping past cars and trucks that moved over to let it pass. The timing of traffic signals allowed the car to continue forward without stopping until in downtown, where it pulled into a private garage.
A few minutes later, two men came out to the sidewalk. They looked young, early thirties, maybe less, and they were dressed simply, one in a white shirt with black pants and one in a blue shirt over dark brown pants. They held hands and talked quietly, too low for others to hear.
“Demosthenes, come on, let’s get to the restaurant. I’m starving.”
“Aidos, you’re always hungry.”
“Should we stay tonight and go back tomorrow?”
“Up to you. You want to hear that musician play at the Arundel?”
“Yes. Are you up for it?”
“Of course.”
They moved down the sidewalk until the canopy of the restaurant came into view.
“The staff are starting to talk,” said Aidos, referring to the staff at their country house.
“I know. It’s time we move on. I’m thinking we go back to New Orleans. It has been two hundred years since we lived there.”
“I remember the cruelty of the slave trade. Disgusting, but there was something about the place. New Orleans it is. I’ll start preparations when we get home.”
“Do you ever think about going back?”
“To Rome?”
“Or Athens.”
“Sometimes. But then I reconsider and wonder where else in the world we can live for a time.”
“I’ve considered Ho Chi Minh City.”
“That could be fun. Maybe after New Orleans, we can go there.”
Someone came out of the restaurant and held the door open for Aidos and Demos, allowing them to slip into the dark interior.
“Thank you,” said Aidos, then Demos as they entered the restaurant.
