#notes. ( “LYKAIOS” );

[lykaiosthinks]

i think its really cool the way my day gets ruined when the slightest of inconveniences happens. the human mind is so wonderful

[the-good-spartan]

A Few Notes on 427 BCE: The transfer of the Kingship at Sparta.

In the summer of 427 BCE, the Spartan army marched on Attika to ravage the land for the fourth time in the Arkhidamian War, but unlike the previous three occasions, they were led by an Agiad war-leader, Kleomenes. [Thuc 3.26]

Arkhidamos II, sole Eurypontid king since somewhere around 469 BCE, was probably seriously ill at this time – extrapolated from the fact that he was succeeded by his son Agis II, and the following year, the summer of 426, Agis was the War-King.

One king – the senior king - was always the war-king, so the fact that Agis didn’t lead that army in 427 means that Arkhidamos must still have been alive but couldn’t lead the army as he’d done for many years beforehand.

Kleomenes was the exiled [Agiad] king Pleistoanax’s brother, and was serving as regent to Pleistoanax’s son, Pausanias, who was underage – perhaps meaning below the age of twenty, when an ordinary Spartan could gain full citizenship if he’d met the stringent criteria related to his education, wealth and socialisation; though the eldest sons of Spartan king’s didn’t attend the agoge, so they may have had a different age requirement.

Please note that this is a guess based on almost pure academic speculation. There is a deep lack of evidence around all this topic.

Pleistoanax had been in exile for a long time. In 446, during the Second Sacred War [a series of battles between Athens, Sparta and allies on both sides, for control of Delphi] Pleistoanax invaded Attika, going as far as Eleusis and Thria, before turning back. He was believed to have been bribed into retreating. [Thuc. 2.21]

Cartledge, quoting Gomme, suggests that, ‘The real bribe, however, may not have been monetary, but “the offer to surrender, or discuss the surrender of, Megara, Troizen and Achaia,”’ [S&L:ARH pg. 197] places taken during the Sacred Wars.

In the winter of 446-445, Athens and Sparta agreed the 30 Years Peace which lasted until the outbreak of the Arkhidamian War. Pleistoanax was exiled before this, probably in 445 BCE. [Thuc. 2.21.]

For context, in 418 BCE, Agis II did the same thing, accepting a four-month treaty with Argos without consulting the ephors and gerousia then returned ‘the finest army ever seen in Hellas’ to Sparta. The authorities at home were livid - they threatened to burn down Agis’ house and fine him 100,000 drachmae. He managed to avoid this outcome, but the next time he marched out with the army, he had to take ten commissioners with him, and if he wanted to withdraw his troops from enemy territory, the ten had to agree. This was completely unprecedented. The War-King had always been the absolute authority when on campaign. [Thuc 5.63]. But, all things considered, he was lucky that his victory at the Battle of Mantinea let him off the hook.

Thucydides tells us that Pleistoanax took refuge on Mount Lykaion (in Arkadia), sacred to Zeus Lykaios, where he lived in a house that was built half inside the sanctuary, ‘because he was afraid of the Spartans.’ [Thuc 5.16]

We don’t know when Pleistoanax returned to Sparta with any precision, but it was almost certainly later in 427 BCE, and I’d personally put money on it being only possible after Arkhidamos’ death. It’s said that ‘they brought him back with the same dances and sacrifices as when they inaugurated the kings at the original foundation of Sparta.’ [Thuc 5.17]

The fact that he wasn’t made War-King, despite his seniority both in personal age and the seniority of the Agiad line, suggests that he was considered a ‘new king’, rather than a restored one; but perhaps it was the cause of his exile which prevented him being made the War-King as was his ancestral right.

His return was apparently difficult for him. The Spartans, understandably, didn’t trust him at all.

When speaking of the push for the Peace [of Nikias, in 421], Thucydides tells us that Pleistoanax was very eager for the peace to be agreed, because his opponents were causing his ‘embarrassment.’ Every time Sparta had a set-back in the war, they put it down to his ‘illegal’ return, accusing him and another brother, Aristokles, of bribing the Pythia to repeatedly tell Spartan delegates seeking guidance from Apollo that ‘they must bring back the seed of the demigod son of Zeus from a foreign land to their own, or they would always plough with a silver ploughshare.’ [Thuc 5.16-7] The son of Zeus is Herakles, from whom both the Spartan royal houses traced their lineage.

Quoted Sources:

Thucydides, The Peloponnesian War, translated by Martin Hammond.

Paul Cartledge, Sparta and Lakonia: A regional history 1300 - 362 BCE.

[captive-prince-a03-feed]

Enslaved (Liberated)

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/sLt245I by majonezanna “This slave is a gift from the Regent of Vere to Prince Damianos.” A reverse AU exploring how just a single canon divergence – where Laurent is forced into slavery instead of being the prince – could set off a chain reaction that radically transforms the original narrative. Inspired by this illustration of oenjanz’s (@tumblr), however the fic cover is my own. Words: 6775, Chapters: 1/34, Language: English Fandoms: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Laurent (Captive Prince), Damen (Captive Prince), Erasmus (Captive Prince), Lykaios (Captive Prince), Nikandros (Captive Prince), Torveld (Captive Prince), Pallas (Captive Prince), Jokaste (Captive Prince), Kastor (Captive Prince), Adrastus (Captive Prince), Everyone Else in the Books, Background & Cameo Characters, Other Character Tags to Be Added, Kallias (Captive Prince) Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince), Erasmus/Kallias (Captive Prince), (background but important) Additional Tags: POV Laurent, Unreliable Narrator, Prince Damianos & Slave Laurent, Butterfly Effect, Role Reversal, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, canon-typical warnings apply, Canon-Typical Violence, Mentions of Auguste, (A Lot of Them), references to past abuse, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, references to victim blaming, they are blatant brutal and no-bullshit, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, Crack and Angst, Dark Crack, Slow Burn, One-Sided Attraction, (or is it one-sided), Eventual Smut, (once it happens there is plenty), Insane Wordcount, (I estimate 300k), Rags to Riches, Political Intrigue, Military Campaign, Additional Warnings Apply, Additional Warnings in Author’s Note, Angst with a Happy Ending

[hellguarded-a]

the lykaios are not allowed to use their call before the hound that’s imprinted upon them first sheds their horns.  before that time comes, besides learning how to handle the beasts, they also learn how to craft  ‘whistles’  ( those can take various shapes, cal has crafted a flute )  and then make real ones from the shed horns.

they tend to craft new whistles as their hound gets older, since their horns get bigger each year, and sometimes even change shape ---  so sometimes, the demons deem it neccessary to try their hand at a new shape of their whistle, too.  it’s especially common for them to craft new ones every year during the early life of their companion, since their horns aren’t considered mature.

in a similiar vein, the lykaios are known to use the spare horns as weapons.  either raw as they are, or they fashion them into daggers or darts.  certain hounds do possess big enough horns  ( also based on their age )  to be made into swords or arrows.

[hellguarded-moved]

//  tag dump 03

general ship tags cont.

relations.  ( “LYKAIOS” );

relations.  ( “EMPEROR” );

relations.  ( “GORGON” );

verses tags cont.

records.  ( “OFFICIAL” );

records.  ( “UNOFFICIAL” );

alternative records.  ( “SUMMONED” );

alternative records.  ( “HUNTED” );

alternative records.  ( “CRIMINAL” );

headcanon tags.

notes.  ( “CERBERUS” );

notes.  ( “NIHIL” );

notes.  ( “TALONSLASH” );

notes.  ( “CONQUEST” );

notes.  ( “FAMINE” );

notes.  ( “HELIOS” );

notes.  ( “STORMBRINGER” );

notes.  ( “FLAMEDANCER” );

notes.  ( “SPELLSINGER” );

notes.  ( “BLOODSCALE” );

notes.  ( “REVENANT” );

notes.  ( “CETUS” );

notes.  ( “LINCEI” );

notes.  ( “LYKAIOS” );

notes.  ( “EMPEROR” );

notes.  ( “GORGON” );

[shinra33459]

Lykaios Custom Lore/Backstory

(Screenshot credits to Fox-Petal-Designs on DeviantArt)

After using this mod for a while and falling in love with it, I decided to make some backstory/lore for the Lykaios since there isn’t much backstory within the mod. As a side note, I used the Creation Kit to turn some Nord NPCs into Lykaios so it would fit the backstory. I wrote the following in the perspective of an Imperial scholar, and I hope you all enjoy!

The Lykaios, A Long-Lost History By Sven Ice-Hilt, Imperial Scholar

The Lykaios, my people, my culture, and who I am. Distinguished reader, my name is Sven Ice-Hilt, and while my name may scream that I must be a Nord, I am anything but. In fact, I am a Lykaios, a wolf-like Beast Race native to the cold, and unforgiving northern climate of Skyrim.

The history of my people has mostly been lost to time, and what little knowledge that we retain of our history, I wish to make known to anybody who who decides to learn the knowledge contained within this volume. Many of my own people have forgotten our history, and the people of Tamriel barely know of our existence due to our reclusive nature and a desire to stay within the borders of our frigid homeland.

We lived in Skyrim since before the Nords came from Atmora and took it for their own. The history of our inception is unknown, but we are believed to be related to the assumedly extinct, fox-like, Lilmothiit people. It is assumed that some of the Lilmothiit migrated north from Black Marsh to Skyrim and settled there, evolving to be able to withstand the frigid temperatures of Skyrim's northern climate.

After migrating to Skyrim, we maintained a semblance of stability and peace with the Snow Elves and the Dwarves. Our peace, however, was short lived, as when the Snow Elves waged war against the Nords, it almost cost us everything. After the Night of Tears, the Nords sought revenge for the slaughter of their people by the Snow Elves, a revenge that included the Snow Elves themselves, and anybody who dared to call themselves allies of the Snow Elves.

We were an ally of the Snow Elves for a time, but after the Night of Tears, we slowly separated ourselves from the Elves. When the Nords returned from Atmora, however, they knew not of our desire to distance ourselves from the Elves. Many Lykaios villages were slaughtered and razed to the ground. Only after one of our most powerful chiefs, Nokose, negotiated with Ysgramor, did the Lykaios finally see peace once again. Our people were never the same, as to this day, many Lykaios choose a nomadic lifestyle traversing Skyrim opposed to forming settlements of our own.

Throughout the eras, the Lykaios people have maintained a stable peace with the Nords, living our lives as we see fit. All throughout Imperial history, the Lykaios have been there: from the age of dragons, to the formation of the Empire, to the Oblivion Crisis, and finally to the Great War. We, as a people, have fought side-by-side by those who would protect our people, and we have been loyal to the Empire ever since its inception.

Over the course of many centuries, the Lykaios gradually became assimilated into Nord culture. The only things remaining of our culture at of the time of writing in 4E 192, are our distinct hairstyles, our proud cultural rituals surrounding hunting, and our general reclusiveness to the outside world. Few Lykaios choose to leave Skyrim and instead choose to remain within our homeland. Few choose the scholarly lifestyle, and even fewer choose the adventurous life of military service.

As civil unrest grows in Skyrim, the Lykaios feel threatened. We see the rising racial tensions growing in our homeland amongst the Nords who we once viewed as our brethren at a time. With the rhetoric preached by Ulfric Stormcloak, and his decrees which have disenfranchised the Dark Elves and the Argonians within Windhelm, many Lykaios fear that the countless centuries of peace that we fought and died for will be discarded completely if Ulfric Stormcloak and his growing rebellion succeed.

[hopelikethemoon]

Moonbeam (Ezra x Reader) [smut] {Werewolf AU}

Title: Moonbeam  Rating: Explicit  Length: 6,000 Warnings: Non-graphic description of bodily injury and smut (cunnilingus, doggy style sex, mentions of masturbation).   Reader Details: To the best of my knowledge, there are no references to Reader’s physical details, beyond being a bisexual woman. I tried my best to keep it as vague as possible.  Notes: So, this is the second lengthy Ezra fic I’ve written this month, but the only one that will see the light of day. Shout-out to @rzrcrst​ for pre-reading this for me.  Werewolves are my niche and I’m absolutely incapable of writing them without creating the lore around their existence. Ezra exudes big werewolf energy (P.S. Javier exudes big vampire energy) and since I’m not really in a fandom until I write a werewolf AU, I present you all with my very own version of space werewolves.  Depending on audience reactions, there might be more of this story to tell. 

Taglist:@princessbatears @djarin-junk @absurdthirst @hdlynn @legally-a-bastard @opheliaelysia @heather-lynn @sabinemorans @crazinessgraveyardsandcartoons​ @pedrospunk​ @maybege​ @chews-erotically​ @katlikeme​ @lose-eels​ @youmeanmybrain​ @theindiealto​ @irishleesh93​

You had heard the rumors, but never once had you believed that they were true. A werewolf living on a moon? Werewolves were the stuff of fairytales. They weren’t real. 

They weren’t real. 

But someone who had come before you had clearly considered the potential. Why else had someone thought to set up a cleverly concealed steel trap?

The pain was overwhelming. Worse than anything you’d ever encountered before. You were lucky your leg hadn’t snapped in two — your heavy coveralls were your saving grace. 

You howled out in pain as you dropped to your knees, trying in vain to pry the trap off your leg. The sharp teeth had bit through the fabric of your coveralls and the dark stain forming told you everything you needed to know about your future. If you didn’t get the trap off soon, you were going to bleed out. 

And then you’d become a smorgasbord for whatever creatures lived on this moon. There had to be something terrifying in the forest that had convinced everyone to believe in werewolves. 

“Kriff.” You swore, your arms throbbing with effort as you tried yet again to free your leg from the trap. You dropped back onto your ass, before sinking down onto the soft mossy ground beneath you. 

At least the stars were out. You could see them through the bareboned trees as they swayed above you in the evening breeze. 

The pain wasn’t so bad at a certain point, most likely because of the blood loss. That would do it. That woozy, tingling sensation that had your vision blurring at the edges. 

A branch snapped nearby, sending a dull spike of nerves through you. You hadn’t made a study of the flora and fauna on the moon — but that certainly didn’t sound like a small creature. 

“Please don’t eat me.” You mumbled, tilting your head to look in the direction of the sound. The filtered moonlight from the crescent moon above barely illuminated the forest around you and your flashlight was just out of reach. 

You heard the sound of another branch snapping under foot, “Hello?” 

All men are beasts in their own right, but the man that stepped into your line of view seemed an unlikely candidate. 

“I do believe that trap was not set to ensnare one such as you,” He drawled out with a honey-sweet cadence as he moved towards you.

“I don’t think it’s broken,” You offered weakly, trying to sit up as he knelt beside you, but your vision blurred harshly and you sank back onto the ground. 

“How fortuitous you are that I take my evening stroll through this very copse of trees.” He mused, effortlessly freeing your leg from the steel trap. 

“How—“

“You have lost a considerable amount of blood, little lamb. I would be most obliged to offer shelter and succor. These woods are no place to remain alone. One can never know what creatures fresh blood may attract.”

You exhaled shakily as you stared up at the stars above you. He was right — you’d never make it back to your transport alone on your leg. “Promise not to kill me?” You cracked, tilting your head to look at him.

He flashed you a toothy grin, “I promise.” 

“What is your name?” You asked as he hoisted you into his arms, with surprising ease. 

“Ezra.” He told you, looking down at you. “And what is your name, little lamb?”

“Ezra.” You repeated softly, resting your cheek against his chest as he carried you through the forest. You gave him your own name, feeling a strange warmth wash through you when he repeated it back in that beguiling tone of his. 

“Am I right in my assumption that you are the occupant of the transport that arrived just two nights ago.” Ezra questioned quietly. 

“Depends on who is asking.” You jested lightly, “I am. Reconnaissance mission for a mining program.” 

“Ah,” His grip on you seemed to tighten. “Another greedy venture to strip the moon of its precious lunaxium?” 

“I can only assume.” You glanced up at him, “Above my pay grade.”

“You should leave within the week.” Ezra remarked, keeping his sharp gaze focused ahead of him. “It won’t be safe for you.”

“You don’t believe in that stupid story, do you?” You questioned, “Isn’t that just a tale to keep prospectors from coming here?”

“I once believed that.” Ezra muttered, before falling silent for the remainder of the journey to his humble abode. 

You had so many questions for your serendipitous savior, but he tended to your leg in relative silence and then left you to rest in his bed. 

From what you could tell, Ezra had fashioned a home for himself out of a crashed transport vessel that you could only assume had been his own at one time. Perhaps he’d been like you once upon a time, a drifter picking up odd jobs and landing in bad situations. 

Ezra was handsome. The moonlight hadn’t tricked you into thinking that — in the garish light of his bedroom, he was still just as striking. Warm eyes, long lashes, a mess of chestnut hair with a shock of blonde, and a wiry frame. 

How long had he been living on Lykaios? Had his vessel crashed on a wayward venture and he’d had no one to come looking for him? Not that anyone would come looking for you either. 

Maybe Shiva. They would’ve probably come looking for your corpse just to get what was owed to them. 

It was a damn miracle that Ezra had stumbled upon you. How had he even found you? The woods all looked the same. 

Sleep came slowly and fitfully. Despite the shot Ezra had given you, your leg was agonizingly painful if you moved at all. Fortunately, there were books within reach — well-loved, with worn pages. You wondered if they had been Ezra’s to start with, or if he’d found someone’s abandoned transport. 

He had excellent taste. 

You hadn’t seen a stack of Chaucer since you were much younger. His copy of Canterbury Tales had been opened so many times the spine wilted in your palm. 

Ezra announced himself with a short knock, before sliding open the durasteel door. “I expected you to be asleep. You had quite the evening, little lamb.”

“I tried.” You made a note of the page you were on before closing the book and sitting it aside on the bedside shelf. “I got distracted by… your collection of novels.”

He chuckled, leaning against the doorframe. “I see you’re getting acquainted with my old oppo Chaucer.” 

“I’ll have you know, Chaucer is my friend.” You quipped, drumming your fingers against the cover of the book. “It was nice to retrace old lines.” 

“He’s an acquired taste,” Ezra tucked his hands behind his back and stepped into the room. “Youth may outrun the old, but not outwit.”

You smiled a little, “Earn what you can since everything’s for sale.” 

Ezra chuckled, shaking his head. “And how true that is.” He gestured grandly towards your leg, “But oftentimes it comes with folly.”

“Is that how you ended up here?” You questioned, “I wanted to ask you last night, but with everything...” 

He shrugged, dragging over a trunk and perching on the edge of it. “Five years ago I stood where you stand. They were looking for a new form of clean energy — lunaxium seemed like the answer.” Ezra pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek, looking away from you then. “This place is filled with hidden dangers. Once you can put weight on your leg, I encourage you to leave.” 

“You could come with me.”

Ezra’s gaze snapped towards you, “No.” 

Your brows furrowed together, “Alright.” 

“I need to change your bandages,” Ezra exhaled heavily as he rose from the trunk, he turned his back to you as he moved to retrieve the roll of gauze from a shelf. 

Your eyes widened as you spotted a twisted scar that ran up the back of his neck into his hairline and vanished down the back of his shirt. You hadn’t noticed it last night while he fussed over you. 

“Ezra, why can’t you leave?” 

Ezra sighed heavily as he sat down on the foot of the bed, drawing your leg into his lap. “It’s home.” He answered simply, unwinding the bandages. “I know it doesn’t look like much, but this—“ He gestured around him. “It’s mine.” 

“And you haven’t gone stir crazy after five years?” You questioned, grimacing as he prodded at your wound. “I was gone for two months on a solo mission once and I don’t think I’ve ever been so glad to Shiva again. Even if they did rob me blind during liar’s dice.” 

“You get used to solitude.” Ezra glanced at you briefly, before turning his attention to the task at hand. He cleaned the area around the wound, before wrapping fresh bandaging around it. “Once or twice a year, someone like yourself arrives and…”

“And the mythical werewolf eats them?” You jested, sinking back against the mattress as he laid your leg back down on the bed. 

“Something like that.” He offered dryly, eyeing at you warily. “There’s a full moon in eleven days. I would advise you not to wait around to discover whether or not it is simply lore.” 

Your brows knit together and you sat up, arms curled around your waist. “You say that like there’s a chance it is true. You’ve been here for five years… What have you seen?” 

“I have things I must attend to away from here.” Ezra said abruptly, “Rest and I’ll return in a few hours to escort you back to your transport.”

Ezra did little to assuage that sinking sensation that told you that maybe just maybe there were werewolves on Lykaios. 

“Before you settled here, what did you do?” You questioned, leaning into Ezra’s side as he kept a firm hand coiled around you for support. “Your transport didn’t offer many clues, outside of your exquisite taste in literature.”

 Ezra chuckled, looking at you from the corner of his eyes. “I was a harvester. A damn good one, at that. But seasons get hard, tides turn, allegiances bend. Fell into a bit of a snare with an associate and had to dig my way out.” 

 “I think we’ve all been there before,” You shook your head. “I enjoy gambling. Nasty habit.” You admitted. “I wasn’t meant to be the one to come to Lykaois. My friend — the one I mentioned before — had been assigned to this mission. They lost it in a dicey bet with me.” 

 “Dicey?”

“What gambler plays honorably?” You countered. “I cheated.” 

“And this friend of yours was meant to come here instead?” 

You nodded, “Tried to win it back right up until the moment I took off.” Shiva had been furious that they’d lost and even more furious knowing that you hadn’t played fair. “I’ve heard the stories about Lykaois and I wanted to find out if they were true.”

“One shouldn’t go looking for the stuff of myth.” Ezra drawled out. “In my erstwhile profession, I had a certain predilection for danger. It can be damning.” 

“Look, I don’t mean to pry, but… is there a reason you can’t leave?” You stopped abruptly, causing him to stumble slightly. “My transport has life support for three. If there’s someone else you’ve got here — if that’s why you don’t want to leave.” 

You could feel Ezra’s gaze bore into your skin. 

“I’m not leaving.” You told him, when he made no attempt to answer your question. “I’ll take a day or two to rest, but I’m finishing what I’ve started.” 

“It’s not safe.” 

“Then why don’t you leave?” You pushed back. “If it’s so dangerous, why aren’t you trying to leave?”

Ezra worked his jaw slowly, before looking towards the sky and sighing heavily. “I’m not the only inhabitant on this moon. Some have been here for much longer than me and they…” He shook his head slowly. 

You curled your fingers around his forearm, turning to stare at him. “They’re what?” 

“Little lamb, be glad you were found by me and not one of them.” Ezra gritted out, holding your gaze. “Consider your luck and leave before it runs out.” 

He wasn’t going to relent. Whatever secrets Lykaois held, he wasn’t going to reveal them to you. 

“Will you at least let me give you a few of my books?” You questioned, squeezing his arm tight as you used him to support your weight. 

“Depends on what you’re offering.” Ezra retorted, “But we need to keep moving. You need to get your leg up.” 

 Ezra was entranced with your small collection of books. Like a man starved, he snatched up every book — flipping through its pages with reverence. You couldn’t imagine spending five years without getting your hands on a new book. 

You thought he would abruptly leave once he had you safely tucked into your transport — but he lingered. 

“Nothing in the world is single; all things by a law divine in one another's being mingle. Why not I with thine?” Ezra read, the words falling from his tongue with a richness that your mind had never been able to give them. 

“Shelley?” You questioned, tilting your head to try to get a look at the book he was holding. 

“Indeed.” He closed the book and held it to his chest. “Our dear friend Percy had quite a way with words. Overshadowed — and rightfully so — by his beloved wife.” 

“I haven’t been able to get my hands on Frankenstein. Not since I was maybe fourteen.” You admitted. 

Ezra snapped his fingers, “You should’ve spoken up, little lamb. Mary has kept me company on many lonely nights.”

“I will part with Percy,” You told him, hobbling towards him on your wounded leg. “But only if you are willing to part with Mary.” 

He hummed thoughtfully, still clutching the book to his chest. “I will have to consult with her.” Ezra told you with a soft smile, “I have no doubt that she is as tired of my company as anyone would be.” 

You reached out and covered his hand with yours, “I will let you reunite the couple for just one night. But you have to promise me that you’ll bring me Frankenstein.”

Ezra’s gaze lowered to where your hand was on his, a faint color rising in his cheeks. “Promise me you’ll leave once books have been exchanged.” He covered your hand with his other hand, squeezing gently. “If you stay, I won’t be able to protect you.”

“Protect me from what?”

“Me.” Ezra breathed out, his dark eyes setting on yours. “I will bring you lunaxium that you can take back to whomever hired you. Warn them from this place and forget it.” 

“It’s not that simple.” You found yourself leaning into him for support, “I have to complete testing and analysis. Reports. I can’t just take back a lump of lunaxium and hope for the best.”

A growl like sound rose up in the back of his throat, “Then I’ll do the reports for you. I know more than I ever cared to know of lunaxium and this godsforsaken rock. You are not to venture beyond this transport.”

You pulled your hand away from his, “I’ll do as I please, thank you.” 

Ezra gritted his teeth, “Do you have a death wish? Now isn’t the time for obstinance. Not this close to a full moon.” 

You blinked at him, “Are you…?”

His expression faltered, fingers twitching against the book before he held it out to you, “Keep it and leave tonight. Please.” 

“No.” You shook your head, “I want to know.” 

“Among these stories,” He gestured to your shelf of books, “I’m afraid it’s an unimpressive tale.”

“I’m always looking to hear new stories.” You told him, grimacing as you put too much weight down on your leg. “Shit.”

“Please sit,” Ezra urged, moving swiftly to curl his arm around your waist as he guided you towards the makeshift sofa you’d made from a weapon crate and oversized pillows. 

He sank down onto the opposite end, hands covering his face as he let out a heavy sigh. “Five years ago, I was just like you. Starry-eyed, devil-may-care.”

“Is that how you see me?”

“Yes.” He glanced at you from the corner of his eye. “I came here looking for lunaxium like every ill-fated prospector before me. The rumors, the legend, the myth — they made for a tantalizing adventure.” His expression sobered as he stared straight ahead. “It’s painful. Muscles tear, bones shatter, skin stretches.”

Your heart clenched and your stomach roiled at the thought. 

“They say the first was a corruption. There are wolves among us, lurking beyond the trees — fearful in their own right of what looms above them. Someone played with fate and made a monster that even Shelley couldn’t have imagined. Lunaxium has no effect on humans, but it calms the beast for awhile.”

Without even thinking about it, you carefully shifted onto your good knee, letting your leg rest over the side of the sofa as you leaned towards Ezra. “This scar.” You said as you gingerly brushed your fingers over the back of his neck. 

He tensed, fingers clenching and unclenching in his lap. “I was attacked on my second night here.” He confessed, exhaling slowly. “Forgive me, little lamb. It has been a right smart spell since I have felt another’s touch.”

“You shouldn’t have to live like that, Ezra.” You whispered, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Isolating yourself… Maybe there’s a cure.”

“I can’t leave Lykaois.” He admitted, closing his eyes as he relaxed under the gentle touch of your fingers. “We’re reliant on the lunaxium and whatever this moon is cursed with. I would go mad.”

“Has anyone ever tried to leave?”

“There are stories.” Ezra turned to look at you. “I appreciate your offer. If it weren’t for what I’ve become, I would accept it without hesitation. But I would rather perish in the solitude of my transport than lose my mind somewhere among the stars.”

You trailed your fingers from his hair, along the curve of his jaw. “I could come back.”

“And put yourself in danger twice over?”

“I put myself in danger every time I venture out on a harvest with a ragtag team that might turn their weapons on me. Life is a risk, Ezra.” You held his gaze as you brushed your thumb over his bottom lip. “I can be your connection to the world you’ve lost. Name it, anything — I’ll bring it back here to you.”

“It’s dangerous.” Ezra seemed compelled by the offer. “The others… they’ve been here long enough to lose what’s left of their humanity.”

“Then protect me.” You brushed your fingers through the hair that fell against his forehead. 

“There’s so much I miss,” He admitted, his expression matching the way his voice broke as he held your gaze. “Five years… it’s a lifetime to spend alone.” He curled his fingers around your hand, rubbing his thumb against the center of your palm. “I don’t want you to risk yourself for me.” 

“I’m not afraid.” You told him, and as foolish as it was — you weren’t. 

Ezra’s gaze flickered between your eyes and your lips and your breath caught somewhere in the back of your throat when he started to lean towards you.  

He wasn’t the only one who had gone years without knowing a lover’s touch. You played things close to the chest, avoided anything that could ensnare you — except for him. 

For all of his warm charm, there was an underlying current of danger that had you feeling like a moth to the flame. He was a monster. A creature made from a curse you hadn’t even believed in.  

“Ezra.” You breathed out, leaning in until your nose brushed against his. 

He petted his fingers over your cheek as his breath mingled with yours, “You’re hurt.” 

“It’s just my leg.” Your lips were a hair’s breadth away from his, “I think we both need this.” 

Ezra curled his fingers around the back of your head as his lips crashed against yours. You groaned against his lips and his tongue took the opportunity to slip into your mouth, curling against yours. 

He kissed like a man possessed, desperate and all consuming. He hauled you into his lap like you weighed nothing, his hands clawing at your back, your ass, your arms — anywhere he could reach. 

He was starved for a connection like this. You had sensed it in the way he gravitated towards you, the way he lingered, the gentle touches as he mended your leg. 

You hissed softly as you shifted your weight in his lap, trying not to put pressure on your leg, but it was hard not to in that position. 

Ezra cupped your cheek, drawing your focus to his face as his other hand curled tight around your hip. “Do you trust me, little lamb?” He questioned, waiting until you nodded before he started to guide you back lengthways on the sofa. 

You scraped your fingernails over his scalp as you slid your fingers through his hair. His knee slotted in between your thighs as he draped himself over you. 

Greedy hands grabbed at the back of his shirt, pulling it up to reveal new skin to touch. He was touch starved. Every brush of your fingers against his untouched skin made him rut against your thigh. 

Ezra’s mouth worked down the column of your throat, teeth lightly scraping as his tongue darted out to taste your skin. His own hands sliding under your shirt, skimming over your ribs. 

You’d missed the feeling of large, rough hands against your skin. It had been more than a few cycles since you’d fallen into bed with a man. A year, maybe two, since you’d been with anyone at all. 

“Ezra.” You breathed out as his mouth moved over your covered breast, his tongue seeking out your nipple through the soft fabric. 

His eyes snapped to meet yours, pupils blown with arousal as he let out a ragged breath. “I can smell you.” Ezra murmured, his tongue flicking out to tease the peak of your nipple, the fabric darkened from his mouth. “You’re soaked, aren’t you little lamb?” He questioned, a hand wandering down your side, curling around your thigh. 

You felt your chest and cheeks burn with a heady mix of arousal and embarrassment. You were slick. You could feel your underwear clinging to your cunt, desire fueled solely by the man crowded onto the sofa with you. 

“In my bed,” Ezra whispered, untangling the hand you had in his hair. He brought your hand to his lips, inhaling deeply before wrapping his lips around your first two fingers. 

An unabashed moan escaped you, your hips lifting off the sofa as you ground yourself against his knee. You should’ve been ashamed — he had known that you’d tried to put yourself to sleep by burying your face in his pillow and your hand between your thighs. 

Ezra released your fingers with a wet pop, his nostrils flaring as he held your gaze. “You didn’t come, did you? Did la petite mort evade you?” 

“Yes.” You whispered, tracing your dampened fingers over his scruffy cheek. “I was so close, but it wasn’t enough.” 

He smirked at you as he pressed his knee firmly against you. “May I?”

“Please.” You nodded, sinking back against the sofa as Ezra moved down your body. Skilled fingers worked at the fastenings of your pants, peeling the heavy fabric down your thighs before tossing them aside. 

He inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of you, “Sit up, little lamb.” Ezra told you, sinking onto the ground in front of you. “Look at you.” He drawled as your thighs parted, your injured leg draped over his shoulder. 

You gasped quietly as he stroked his thumb over the damp spot on your underwear, barely brushing over your clit — but even that mere touch was enough to make you tremble. 

“Did you think of me?” Ezra questioned, peeling the fabric to the side, sweeping his fingers between your slick folds. 

“Maybe.” You retorted, biting down on your bottom lip as you watched him lick your arousal from his fingers. 

A quiet growl rose up the back of his throat as he leaned in between your thighs. He held your underwear to the side as he lapped at you, his tongue sweeping between your folds. 

Your fingers slid into his hair, grip tightening as he traced the tip of his tongue over your clit. 

“Do you need these?” Ezra mumbled, tugging at your underwear. 

“No. No.” You shook your head, pitching your hips towards him. 

Ezra effortlessly tore away the crotch of your underwear, his mouth descending upon your tender flesh. His tongue delved between your folds, thrusting into your slick core. He grabbed at your thigh, holding you steady as he turned his attention to your clit. 

You cried out as he wrapped his lips around that throbbing bundle of nerves. He sucked lightly at it, swirling his tongue over it as his fingers pressed into your cunt. 

He didn’t let up, his tongue working over your clit as he worked his fingers in and out of you. His fingers were deliciously thick, dragging in and out of you, brushing over that sweet spot within you that made your entire core quake. 

Ezra was good. 

His name was heavy on your tongue as you shattered, your inner walls clenching around his fingers, thighs trapping his face between your legs. 

“I need…” You panted out, breath hitching as he curled his fingers within you. “Fuck!” You shouted, nearly ripping his hair out as you felt a dam break as your vision blurred from the sudden burst of molten desire. Ezra was undeterred, his tongue sweeping up every drop of you. 

“More.” You urged, writhing beneath him. “Ezra, please.” 

“I might hurt you.” Ezra warned you, dragging his hands down your thighs as he nipped at the soft flesh of your inner thigh. “I don’t… I don’t know if I control myself.” 

“Forget about my leg,” You tugged at his hair. “And fuck me.” 

Ezra squeezed your hip and barked out, “On your knees.” 

You waited until he let go of you before you gracelessly flopping over on the sofa, knees planted firmly on the cushion as you grabbed at the metal shaft that made up the back of the sofa. 

“You smell so fucking good like this,” Ezra breathed out, hands sliding over your bare hips as he crowded close to you. “It’s been so long.” He pressed his lips to the back of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. 

“Same.” You laughed breathlessly, reaching behind you to grab at his hair. “I don’t break easy.” 

“You’ve never fucked a werewolf before.” Ezra murmured, curling his fingers loosely around your throat, keeping you pinned back against his chest as his cock slid between your oversensitive folds. “Have you?”

“Not yet.” You gritted out, curling your fingers around his forearm, thankful that he was able to keep you upright. He was strong, but the fingers wrapped around your throat were gentle. 

The head of his cock caught against your entrance and Ezra’s hips bucked forward, pressing into you. 

You moaned, completely caught up in the sensation of his thick cock filling you. The stretch was just this side of too much — especially in this angle. 

Ezra pulled back, his cock nearly slipping from you entirely before slamming back into you. His thrusts were brutal — all that strength and power that was hidden in his wiry build. He was reaching spots no one else had ever hit. 

He released his tight grip on your hip, slipping his hand between your thighs to stroke your aching clit. You clenched around him in response, making him feel even thicker as he drove into you. Again and again. 

Your nails bit into his forearm, leaving crescent moon shapes in his skin as you clung to him. You were so close, perched right on the precipice of another orgasm. 

“Come.” Ezra’s fingers curled around your jaw, his lips close to your ear. “I want to feel you come. The sweet clench of your cunt around my cock.” He mouthed a row of kisses down your neck, growling against the crook of your neck as your body obeyed him. 

He didn’t relent, even as your body pulsed around his cock. “Fuck.” He grunted out, his teeth scraping your skin. 

“Ezra.” You moaned out, your eyes falling closed as you basked in the overwhelming sensation of him fucking into you. 

His grip loosened at your jaw as he started to slide out of you, but you reached behind you, grabbing at his ass — desperately trying to keep him right there. 

Something snapped. Some frayed cord of control that he had been clinging to. 

You grabbed at the back of the sofa for support as he roughly grabbed at your hips. He bottomed out once, twice, three times before he growled out your name and came. 

Ezra curled his arm around your waist, keeping you pinned to him as he rearranged the two of you. He kept the softening length of his cock buried within you as he sank down onto the sofa with you resting back against his chest. 

“You’re very strong,” You mumbled, scratching your nails through the hair on his forearm as you looked down at the arm he had tightly curled around you. 

He huffed, a throaty chuckle escaping him as he rested his forehead against your shoulder. “One perk of this damnable curse.” He brushed his thumb over your stomach gently. 

“Is the sex a perk too?” You questioned, closing your eyes as you leaned back against him. “Because, I’m not sure I want to leave at all now.”

“I wouldn’t know.” Ezra kissed your shoulder. “I’ve kept my distance. From the others.” He sighed heavily. “You don’t want to become like me, little lamb.”

“I never said that I do.” You pointed out. 

“No, I suppose you didn’t.” He shifted beneath you, whispering a quick apology when you whimpered at the movement. 

“I’m okay.” You promised, trailing your fingers up the side of his thigh. “Overwhelmed.”

“Two days.”

“Hmm?”

“You can safely stay for two more days, but then you must leave. It gets harder to maintain this the nearer we draw to the full moon.” Ezra told you, nuzzling at the crook of your neck. 

“Two days.” You agreed solemnly. 

Ezra returned just after nightfall with a stack of research notes and his well-loved copy of Frankenstein. 

“Did you know she dedicated herself to getting her husband’s works published.” You mused, looking up from the notes on lunaxium to watch Ezra as he consumed Percy’s book of poems. 

“Hmm?”

“Mary.” You explained. “As accomplished as she was, she also worked to ensure her husband’s writing would be read.”

“Indeed.” Ezra tucked the red ribbon into the page he was reading and sat it aside. “I believe their romance blossomed on her mother’s grave, no? A rather odd pair.”

“His works are dreadfully romantic, for such a macabre couple.” You pointed out, flipping over another page of notes, copying down a comment on your own notations. 

“The sunlight claps the earth, and the moonbeams kiss the sea: what are all these kissings worth, if thou kiss not me?” Ezra recited, drumming his fingers against the cover. “I had forgotten that was dear Percy.” He sank back against the wall, pushing fingers through his unruly hair. “I miss the sea.” 

“I’d bring it back in a bottle if I could.” You told him, chewing on your bottom lip. “I meant what I said before. I can come back.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, moonbeam.” He let the word slip off his tongue like it was sugar-sweet. “You will grow bored of the to-and-fro.” He pursed his lips. “Though I am much appreciative of the offer. You should go back to your friends.” 

“I have one friend in this galaxy Ezra and oftentimes I’m certain they want to ring my neck.” You shook your head. “You deserve to have a friend too.” 

“I will never be able to leave,” He reminded you. “And you can never stay.”

“There’s still an in-between.” Your brows rose hopefully. “A new moon, perhaps? When the moon is there, but not visible.”

“You’re persistent.”

“I’ve been told that before.” You smirked a little. “What would you like me to bring back when I return after the full moon?”

Ezra exhaled heavily, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “I would be forever indebted to you if you might get your hands on a copy of War & Peace. Dreadfully long, but I hunger for some longevity in my literature.”

“Done.” 

He snapped his fingers, “Cheese.” 

You arched a brow. “I have cheese.”

“Real cheese?” Ezra corrected. “That wretched aero cheese is nauseating.” He blanched, watching you as you rose from your seat. 

You hobbled out of the room, into the corridor where the hyperfreeze unit was mounted in the interior wall beside the coolant system. You returned moments later with a block of Reggianito. 

“You’re in luck.” You said, sinking down onto the floor beside him. “I have a hook-up on Sector Block G7.” 

Ezra broke off a piece and popped it into his mouth, sinking back against the wall with a satisfied moan. “It will be safe for you to return in a fortnight.” 

You slapped his leg playfully, “You’ll let me return if I bring cheese?”

He grinned and continued. “If you come then, you’ll have a fortnight to stay, should you choose to.” 

“That should give me enough time to find War & Peace for you and settle my debts.” 

Ezra took another bite of cheese, before passing it back to you. “Do they still make those honeysticks?” He questioned. “Little tubes with honey collected from…” He squinted, “I can’t remember the planet.”

“I can look.” You wrapped the cheese back in the cloth, before sitting it aside. “How will you be when I return?” You questioned. 

“A little worse for wear,” Ezra shrugged a shoulder, resting his hand on your thigh. “The lunaxium helps.”

“Is it… is it like a drug?”

“I suppose.” Ezra dragged his teeth over his bottom lip. “There’s this hunger,” He explained, knocking his fist against his sternum. “This clawing sensation. It gets worse closer to the full moon. I lose my mind.” He shook his head. “I tried to wean myself off two years ago. Just to feel something.”

“What happened?” You rested your hand over his. 

“It triggered the beast.” He answered with a frown. “Middle of the cycle and violent.” Ezra tilted his head to look at you. “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“You won’t.” You shook your head slowly, interlacing your fingers with his. “Maybe this will be good for you. Help you keep your humanity.”

“How so?”

“The others, the ones that were already here.” Your brows furrowed together as you turned to stare at him, “Did they lose their humanity because they lost touch with other humans?”

Ezra blinked, “You, moonbeam, are a clever one.”

“I read a lot.” You smiled at him, “And you’re  in luck — I have always loved monster stories.”

[dreamdropxoxo]

damen and laurent #15?? <3

Hi dear anon! ❤️ Thank you so much for your ask! I had a ball *wink wink* writing this. I hope you like it too 🥰.

If you’re interested in dance and my inspiration for this short story, you might like to watch this video.

The prompt is from the list here, where you find an overview over all my answers. (Original post of the prompt list here). 

15. A fierce kiss that ends with a bite on the lip, soothing it with a lick.

Damen couldn’t help but stare. But honestly, nobody could fault him for that. 

“That’s our ballroom dance instructor, Laurent deVere, and his partner, Jokaste Angelos. They are tournament dancers and always train together before our lessons. They have their costume rehearsal today for the competition this weekend,” the woman beside him informed him. Damen nodded slowly. 

The two blonds moved like sex and it was all he could do to stand still and watch them. The woman, Jokaste, wore a red dress with black embroidery all over it, her hair flowed around her and her body moved in ways that should have been impossible. 

But what made him stare, unable to rip his eyes away, was the man. Laurent was dressed completely in black from head to toe. His hands on Jokaste’s body were sure and strong. He guided her with the confidence coming from years of experience. 

The music swelled, he pulled her back by her shoulder, she went willingly and then they were breathing hard in their final pose. 

Fuck. Damen was more than half hard. He hastily closed his eyes, thought of- of- Makedon in frilly pink underwear. It worked. He calmed down enough to not embarrass himself in his first lesson here.

“They are the best. Don’t worry, nobody can look away if they dance. We’re all big fans,” the woman reassured him with a kind smile. She patted his knee and made herself comfortable on the floor of the dance studio. 

“Would you tell me what that was? We aren’t going to do something like this anytime soon, are we?”

She laughed. “That was Tango. Don’t worry, we aren’t. They start slowly. They don’t want to scare anyone off. Actually, the two of them are very good instructors. If a bit impatient. Neither of them cares for fools. If they correct you, you better try to comply. By the way, I’m Lykaios. Nice to meet you.” 

Damen nodded, while he shook her hand. “I’m Damen.” 

He could see how that was true. Both looked sharp, focused and so beautiful he was sure something had to be wrong with the universe to place the two of them together. Laurent whispered something in Jokaste’s ear, who threw her head back and laughed loud and unabashed. She shoved him lightly and Laurent caught her hands in his with a smirk. 

“She’s married. Just to spare you the heartache,” Lykaios informed him, again kindly. “Everybody has a crush on them. But Jokaste is married. It broke our hearts when we found out.”

“I know that she’s married,” Damen explained. “She’s married to my brother.”

“Oh.” Lykaios stared at him, “oh, then I’m sorry to inform you that Laurent is also in a relationship, very committed from what I heard. His boyfriend packs him snack boxes with little notes in them.” She sighed dreamily. 

Damen only nodded again. He still stared. 

He was very glad when the lesson started. Laurent and Jokaste introduced themselves, then Jokaste took her leave with the promise to work them hard the coming week and Laurent started to show them the first steps of the waltz. Lykaios, who immediately offered to practice with Damen, was very patient. She smiled at him and it made his shoulders relax, until Laurent stood beside them and looked critically at their posture. 

“If you’d allow me?” His voice was smooth, it made Damen’s knees weak. Lykaios smiled and immediately stepped back. Laurent stepped in close, took her space in Damen’s arms and looked at him with startling blue eyes. “You need to think more about your frame. Leading is all about your frame. Like this.” He adjusted his posture. They were incredibly close. Damen needed all his concentration to stay focused. 

“Now try again.”

Damen did. He actually felt the difference. Laurent nodded. “Good, now again with Lykaios.”

When the lesson was over, Lykaios patted Damen’s shoulder. “You did well. We’ll see each other next week. Alright?”

He nodded with a bright smile and waved his goodbyes. The other students filled out of the room one by one. Then he turned around and caught Laurent’s eyes. The memories of seeing him dance the Tango rushed back unbidden. 

He took two strides towards him and pulled the other man close to his body. He placed one hand in Laurent’s neck and crushed their mouths together. The kiss was fierce. Their teeth clacked together, their tongues fought for dominance, the heat between them flared like a living thing. Then Laurent pulled back, but not without biting Damen’s lower lip viciously, just to sooth it with a lick and soft noise. 

Damen groaned. “Goodness, love, I never saw something more sexy in my life.”

Laurent laughed. “You say that every time you see me dance.”

“Because it’s true. Would you care to give me some private lessons?”

“That will cost you, I’m not cheap.”

Damen chuckled. “How about I include your favorite dip in your next snack box?”

Laurent nibbled at his jaw and hummed in thought. “And you’ll cook this amazing Fennel-Lentils salad for me tomorrow.” 

“Deal.” 

“I knew it had its perks to fuck a chef,” Laurent murmured into his ear, before stepping back and gathering his things. “Let’s go home.”

[thegrapeandthefig]

The Werewolves of Arcadia

This is my contribution to @adri-le-chat 's Halloween "Haunting Pagan Lore" event. As you can see from the title, I've chosen a classic of horror and folklore tales for which many have forgotten the ancient origins. This will be long, so let's get into it.

The myth of King Lycaon While the earliest known example of man-to-wolf shifting dates back to the Epic of Gilgamesh (c. 2100 BC), the Greek case is considered the second oldest, and the one scholars consider as the root of werewolf belief in Europe, as the myth got carried over to the Romans. However, one should note that lycanthropy and human-to-animal transformation beliefs also arose independently in other cultures around the world.

In Greece, the first werewolf is King Lycaon of Arcadia. The story is said to go this way, though with several variants: King Lycaon ruled over the region of Arcadia, Pan's homeland. A wild, lush and mountainous region of Greece. Lycaon had several children, mainly Kallisto, Keteus and Nyktimos. After seducing Kallisto, Zeus is invited to a feast by Lycaon. The issue is, Lycaon serves him human flesh:

"After Zeus had seduced Kallisto, Lykaon, pretending not to know of the matter, entertained Zeus, as Hesiod says, and set before him on the table the babe which he had cut up.”

- Hesiod, Astronomica Fragment 3 (from Comm. Supplem. on Aratus)

"Two lesser known Athenian playwrights, Xenokles the Elder and Astydamas the Younger, produced plays entitled Lykaon. Presumably these told the story of the sacrifice of the child."

- Xenocles the Elder & Astydamas the Younger, Lycaon (lost plays) (c. 5th to 4th BC.)

The general idea is that Zeus is deeply offended by the act and turns King Lycaon into a wolf. However, there are many versions to the myth. Pausanias, in the 2nd century AD, explains it this way:

" Lykaon brought a human baby to the altar of Zeus Lykaios, and sacrificed it, pouring out its blood upon the altar, and according to the legend immediately after the sacrifice he was changed from a man to a wolf (lykos) . . . All through the ages, many events that have occurred in the past, and even some that occur to-day, have been generally discredited because of the lies built up on a foundation of fact. It is said, for instance, that ever since the time of Lykaon a man has changed into a wolf at the sacrifice to Zeus Lykaios, but that the change is not for life; if, when he is a wolf, he abstains from human flesh, after nine years he becomes a man again, but if he tastes human flesh he remains a beast for ever."

- Pausanias, Description of Greece 8. 2. 1 - 6

Ovid, when rewritting the myth in the 1st century AD, decided to turn the narrative to Lycaon doubting the divinity of Zeus when the god visited Arcadia. In order to test Zeus’s divinity, Lycaon attempts to feed him cooked human flesh and have him assassinated in the night. When Zeus realizes what Lycaon is doing, Lycaon tries to flee in fear. But as he runs into the fields of Arcadia, Lycaon is transformed into a wolf.

The cult of Zeus Lykaios

The transformation of King Lycaon is a punishment for human sacrifice and cannibalism, sometimes permanent or, as we saw above, for a certain amount of time under the condition of not eating human flesh.

The myth is said to have inspired the cult of Zeus Lykaios in Arcadia (or perhaps the opposite), for which, human sacrifices have been rumored to occur. The sanctuary of Zeus Lykaios was on one of the three crests of Mt. Lykaion, where the festival of the Lykaia was celebrated approximately once every four years. We owe the earliest reference to human sacrifices on this mountain to Plato:

"What then is the beginning of the transformation from protector to tyrant? Is it not clearly when the protector begins to do the same as the man in the story which is told concerning the sanctuary of Zeus Lykaios in Arcadia?’ ‘What story?’ he said. ‘How the man who has tasted of the piece of human entrails—one of these having been cut up along with the entrails of the other victims—it is necessary for this man to be turned into a wolf. Or haven’t you heard the story?’ ‘I have." -Plato, Republic 8, 565D–E

Pausanias, who visited the location in the 2nd century AD, also mentions the story:

“For they say that after Lycaon someone would always be turned from a man into a wolf at the sacrifice of Zeus Lykaios, but that he would not become a wolf for all his life. Rather, if while he was a wolf he refrained from human flesh, they say that afterwards in the tenth year he turned back from a wolf into a man. But if he had tasted human flesh he remained a beast forever.” 

-Pausanias, Description of Greece, 8.2.6

Later, he goes on to mention the sacrifices are still performed on the moutain, subtly implying that he thinks those are human sacrifices:

"they sacrifice in secret; I did not wish to inquire further into the details of the sacrifice: let it be as it has been from the beginning”

-Pausanias, Description of Greece, 8.38.7

Both Plato and Pausanias are skeptics on the existence of the transformation from man to wolf. Pausanias, especially, makes it very clear when giving account of the story of Damarchus:

"But concerning the boxer named Damarchus, who was by birth an Arcadian of Parrhasia, except for his victory at Olympia I do not believe the other things said by pretentious men, namely that he was changed from a man to a wolf at the sacrifice of Zeus Lykaios and that ten years later he again became a man. Nor did it seem to me that this was said about him by the Arcadians, for in this case it would also be said in the inscription at Olympia, which runs as follows: Damarchus son of Dinyttas set up this statue, a Parrhasian by birth from Arcadia.”

-Pausanias, Description of Greece, 6.8.2

Archeaological search has not confirmed human sacrifices to be taking place, despite the legends. The numerous bones found were mostly ones from small animals, with the occasional bigger cattle or pig. Thus there are strong doubts on the reality of infant sacrifices. If they did exist, the absence of remains would indicate either that the victims were so young their remains didn't survive time, or that the remains were removed for a separate burial. 

Other instances of werewolf tales

It is very clear now that the region of Arcadia is linked for the Ancients to the trope of man to wolf transformation, and probably taking root in both tale and cult. However, this while this is the most documented story, there are other mentions of wolf-shifting in ancient literature. 

Herodotus, for instance, tells us this when describing the Neuri: 

"It may be that these people are wizards; for the Scythians, and the Greeks settled in Scythia, say that once a year every one of the Neuri becomes a wolf for a few days and changes back again to his former shape. Those who tell this tale do not convince me; but they tell it nonetheless, and swear to its truth." - Herodotus, Histories, IV.105

Much later, in the late first century AD, Petronius includes a werewolf story in his Satyricon, which goes as follows: 

"I seized my opportunity, and persuaded a guest in our house to come with me as far as the fifth milestone. He was a soldier, and as brave as Hell. So we trotted off about cockcrow; the moon shone like high noon. We got among the tombstones: my man went aside to look at the epitaphs, I sat down with my heart full of song and began to count the graves. Then when I looked round at my friend, he stripped himself and put all his clothes by the roadside. My heart was in my mouth, but I stood like a dead man. He made a ring of water round his clothes and suddenly turned into a wolf. Please do not think I am joking; I would not lie about this for any fortune in the world. But as I was saying, after he had turned into a wolf, he began to howl, and ran off into the woods. At first I hardly knew where I was, then I went up to take his clothes; but they had all turned into stone. No one could be nearer dead with terror than I was. But I drew my sword and went slaying shadows all the way till I came to my love's house. I went in like a corpse, and nearly gave up the ghost, the sweat ran down my legs, my eyes were dull, I could hardly be revived. My dear Melissa was surprised at my being out so late, and said, 'If you had come earlier you might at least have helped us; a wolf got into the house and worried all our sheep, and let their blood like a butcher. But he did not make fools of us, even though he got off; for our slave made a hole in his neck with a spear.' When I heard this, I could not keep my eyes shut any longer, but at break of day I rushed back to my master Gaius's house like a defrauded publican, and when I came to the place where the clothes were turned into stone, I found nothing but a pool of blood. But when I reached home, my soldier was lying in bed like an ox, with a doctor looking after his neck. I realized that he was a werewolf, and I never could sit down to a meal with him afterwards, not if you had killed me first. Other people may think what they like about this; but may all your guardian angels [genius] punish me if I am lying.”

-Petronius, Satyricon, 62 (tr. Michael Heseltine)

Final words

Despite being present in literature, there seems to be a common disbelief amongst the Ancients when it comes to the veracity of werewolves, but it is also possible that the explicit disbelief shown by the authors cited there is meant to differiate them with the popular folk beliefs of their time. With this, I wish you all a Spooky Halloween. 

[lykaiosthinks]

lyka lyka lykaaa!! hihihii!! aaah,, i know it's a bit sudden,, but i'm going on a tumblr break!! i'll be gone for a week and i'll be back next friday,, but i love you lots and i'll see you later!! bye!!!

AWWW well have a good break!! i'll be right here when you get back

[thesimperiuscurse]

here’s two unedited shots of raven. i have attempted three times to fix his ugly front profile and quit without saving three times. bitch. on a positive note, i did figure out a real name for him, and made a pinterest board, so i guess he’s an official character now. 

→ damien lykaios

[ao3feed-captiveprince]

Just Say Yes

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2SX7zbR

by covertius

After successfully helping Lykaios find her perfect dress on an episode of hit TV show "Say Yes to the Dress," fashion director Laurent decides to break his personal rule about attending customers' weddings - in the hopes that he might run into a certain attractive groomsman at the reception.

(Note: Will make more sense after reading the first part of the series)

Words: 5354, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 2 of Say Yes to the Dress AU

Fandoms: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince)

Additional Tags: background Jokaste/Kastor, background Lykaios/Atkis, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Say Yes To The Dress AU, Fluff, Laurent attends Lykaios's wedding in order to see Damen again, that's basically it

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2SX7zbR

[laurent-ofvere]

56, “I’m not jealous! its just…you’re mine!” - please make it laurent saying it to Damen and then Damen has to prove that he is indeed his!

“I’m not jealous! It’s just…you’re mine!” D/L

There were a few things Damen learned about Laurentthroughout their time together, one being how much he could talk whenhe was nervous, or uncomfortable. He didn’t always realize he was doing it butDamen did. It occasionally even slipped in when they were in bed together,despite not always being so vocal. It happened that night, on his back withDamen sprawled on top of him.

“She looked pretty today,” Laurent was saying, his headtilted to the side as Damen kissed under his ear. The skin there was soft, andDamen particularly liked the way Laurent sighed and shifted when he took hisearlobe between his lips.

“Mm,” Damen mumbled, not really hearing Laurent as hecontinued to move inside him. He was talking about Lykaios, or maybe Kashel. Hewasn’t really sure, he didn’t eve know why Laurent was bringing some randomperson up while he was fucking him.

Damen grabbed at Laurent’s thighs on his sides and lifted themup higher, prompting Laurent to cross his legs behind his back and tighten aroundhim. The shift moved the both of them a little bit, just enough for Damen tosink in deeper. He saw Laurent’s eyes widen from that, making a hitched soundas Damen continued to move his hips.

They went on for some time like that, Laurent’s arms windedaround Damen’s neck as Damen kept his face pressed into his shoulder, unable toget close enough. He felt a tightening on the short hairs at the nape of hisneck and he groaned.

“She has nice eyes,” Laurent said, suddenly, though thewords came out like more of a breath as Damen angled his body differently. “Don’tyou think?”

Damen’s body stilled, and he fought the urge to just ignoreeverything completely as he placed a hand on the side of Laurent’s head andpushed himself up. Laurent’s face was pink, his lips open enough to let outsmall pants of air. Damen’s own arms felt unsteady as he held his weight abovehim, wishing he could just wrap his arms around Laurent and keep going.

“What,” Damen said, hearing how labored his voice was. “Areyou talking about?”

“After class today.” Laurent’s hands moved down Damen’sskin, tracing the contours of his spine as he spoke. “When you were bothtalking at your locker.”

Damen wanted to drop his head and whimper. He didn’t knowhow Laurent could hold a conversation right now; he could hardly eve recallwhat Laurent was talking about. “And?”

“It was a lengthy conversation,” Laurent said.

“She was asking about notes.”The sentence came out strangled, Damen’s thighs trembling with the effort ofholding still. He was still inside Laurent, and Laurent’s fingers kept skimmingalone the line of his back, the curve of his ass. He just wanted to keep havingsex.

“Looked like a lot of smiling for questions about notes.”

“Are you jealous?”

Laurent blinked up at him. His fingers curled around Damen’ssides. “No.”

Damen hesitated, looking down at Laurent differently. He hadbeen joking, saying anything that came to mind that might propel this momentforward but now he thought about it differently. Laurent had shown up in themiddle of their conversation and placed a hand on Damen’s arm, and he’d seemedpretty determined in climbing on top of Damen once they’d gotten in his car as if they didn’t haveplans to spend the entire night together.

“You are,” Damen said, increasingly pleased as he watchedLaurent’s brows pull together. The throb of arousal and the desperate need tochase their pleasure were still at the forefront of his mind, but it wastemporarily quieted by the way Laurent’s eyes narrowed when he was indignantlypissed of. “Laurent.”

“I’m not jealous!” Laurent said. “It’s just…” His flushhad spread across his cheeks, his eyes averting uncharacteristically. “You’remine!”

Damen leaned down and kissed him, he had to. Laurent’sdidn’t seem to mind it, judging by the way his hands went to Damen’s head,holding him close. His kisses were all open mouthed, needy and panting, andDamen only realized that his hips were moving when he felt Laurent’s shifting up to meet his.

“Of course I’m yours,” Damen said, the words bitten intoLaurent’s mouth as he took Laurent’s hands off his neck, pinning them to hissides. Laurent liked that as well, letting out a low sound when Damen pushedthem into the mattress. “Who else could I belong to?”

Laurent moaned, lifting his legs higher and welcoming theway Damen fucked into him harder, long thrusts that brought them together. He pressedhis lips to Laurent’s chest, the underside of his jaw, sucking his lower lipbetween his own.

“You’re the only one I want,” Damen said, releasing his wrist so Laurent could rest his hand against Damen’s cheek and press their foreheads together. He kissedhim again, his body shuddering, and let himself be wrapped in Laurent’s arms ashe lost himself to it all.

[hellguarded-a]

while some houndmasters are tasked with multiple duties, there  is  a specific group that is  only  tasked with  putting down strays and rogues.  such hellhounds are only hunted down and killed if they’ve actively gone against their duty to hades, or they’ve lost their will and started eating the souls they were meant to retrieve, or they start killing the living that are  not  their targets or simply wreaking unwarranted havoc ---  or worse yet, they start eating the  shades  inhabiting the underworld.  they are then not given the honor of having their horns crafted into future whistles;  instead, whatever remains there are are incinerated with special ritualistic fire so that their presence within the underworld may be cleansed.

cal is one such  ‘exterminator’  while ig has been labelled a  ‘rogue.’

[verdantlyviolet]

Okay, here's what I can piece together on Zeus and the Kokkyx (Cuckoo). This is going to be a mess of copy-pasted material.

According to Birds in the Ancient World by W Geoffrey Arnott, the two species of cuckoo in ancient Greece were the Common Cuckoo (cuculus canorus) and the Great Spotted Cuckoo (clamator glandarius) but asserts that most references would be of the Common Cuckoo. Makes sense since this is the mostly widely spread and studied species. I can't link either species, or the other species of birds' nests they prefer to lay their eggs in, to Arkadia directly. Both species cover a lot of the Mediterranean.

Apostolos N Athanassakis’ translation of Hesiod Works and Days 485-590:

But here is some consolation for the man who plows late; when the cuckoo’s song is first heard among the oak leaves to the delight of mortals throughout the wide earth, then may Zeus send rain three days later, just enough to fill an ox’s hoofprint. This way the late plower will be a match for him who plows early.

… and his commentary:

The song of the cuckoo heralds the advent of spring, and for this reason this bird is greatly loved by the Greeks and figures prominently in their folk songs. The expression “We will not hear the cuckoo this year” is equivalent to “We will not survive the winter this year.” In folk songs, the expression “the cuckoo will not sing this year” means that the year will be a year of sorrow and mourning.

I'm tempted to then relate this mention of the cuckoo and oak leaves to Pausanias' description of the ritual to bring rain to Arkadia:

[...] from Hagno a spring on Mount Lykaios, which like the Danube flows with an equal volume of water in winter just as in the season of summer. Should a drought persist for a long time, and the seeds in the earth and the trees wither, then the priest of Zeus Lykaios, after praying towards the water and making the usual sacrifices, lowers an oak branch to the surface of the spring, not letting it sink deep. When the water has been stirred up there rises a vapor, like mist; after a time the mist becomes cloud, gathers to itself other clouds, and makes rain fall on the land of the Arkadians.

To expound on the cuckoo in the oak tree further, here is a screenshot taken from pg98 of Nine Essays on Homer:

And from pg105 of the same work:

In Ibycus' fragment penelopes and halycons are represented as sitting 'on the topmost leaves', literally 'petals', a topos about the nightingale, who sings 'sitting in the dense leaves (petals) of the trees' in the Odyssey (19.520). This might seem unremarkable, since many birds sit in trees, but in fact only particular creatures sit 'in the petals.' In the whole of Greek poetry outside of the Ibycus fragment, this expression is applied only to the nightingale, the swallow, the sparrow, the cuckoo, and the cicada, and only about the nightingale is it used repeatedly. In every case, the image is that of a small and fragile creature, whose delicacy is matched by the delicacy of petals in which it hides. And without exception, the creatures that sit 'in the petals' sing in a voice that is like the nightingale's in its mournful tone.

With the below note to add:

The only bird noticeably larger than a nightingale or a sparrow who is said to sit in the petals is the cuckoo in Works and Days, and it is interesting that only here is the expression qualified 'in oak leaves': a larger bird calls for sturdier 'petals.' Note also that the cuckoo is also a bird with a remarkable voice, sometimes seen as a voice of lament in the Greek poetic tradition.

While I personally prefer the idea of the cuckoo being a bird of spring, a bird of mourning singing laments at the site of a possible human sacrifice seems appropriate.

On Zeus' transformation into a cuckoo, Pausanias says:

A mountain [near Halike in Argos], called in old days Thornax; but they say that the name was changed because, according to legend, it was here that the transformation of Zeus into a cuckoo took place. Even to the present day there are sanctuaries on the tops of the mountains : on Mount Kokkux (Cuckoo) one of Zeus, on Pron one of Hera.

And the scholiast to Theocritus explains this further, which gives a much better description linking Zeus, the cuckoo, and rain brought to the summit of a mountain (though, obviously in Hermione of Argolis and not Arkadia). Here also is our pathetic description of the bird as per its delicate nature mentioned above:

He [Aristocles] reports that Zeus wishes to copulate (μιγῆναι) with Hera from the time he saw her alone, apart from the other gods. Wanting to be invisible so that he was not seen by her, he changed himself into a cuckoo and perched on the mountain which then was called Thornax, but now is called Kokkyx (Cuckoo), and that very day he caused a terrible storm to break out. Walking by herself, Hera arrived at the mountain and sat down there, where today is located the sanctuary of Hera Teleia (ὅπου νῦν ἐστιν ἱερὸν Ἥρας τελείας). She saw the cuckoo flitting about, and it perched on her lap, trembling and frozen by the storm. Looking at it, Hera pitied it and took it under her mantle. Zeus suddenly changed his form again and grasped Hera. When she refused to copulate with him because of her mother, the god promised to make her his wife. Among the Argives, who honour this goddess more than any others of the Greeks, there is in a temple a statue of Hera seated on a throne, holding in her hand a sceptre on which is perched a cuckoo.

Random extra reference about the cuckoo being the first bird announcing spring’s arrival:

Dionysius On birds 1.13 πρῶτος τῶν λοιπῶν πτηνῶν ἡμῖν τὸ ἔαρ ἀγγέλλων (cited in Thompson, p. 152). 

Google translates this to first of all the other birds to us the number of angels.

Mt. Lykaion Excavation and Survey Project, Part 1 mentions a theory of shepherds moving their flocks up the mountain for summer and down again closer to the sea for winter. This could have been heralded by the cuckoo's cry, right? It follows the migratory nature of the cuckoo anyhow. I didn't bother reading Part 2 since it was for the lower sanctuary.

I have to be honest. Based on the excavation records I've read so far, your smol birb is probably an eagle. But I feel quite attached to this little birdy after reading all the excavation notes from 1904 and 2004-10. Why are they so critical of it though? "Crudely made and insignificant" I have some words to say about that misters paper-writers! But I could not for the life of me find a single photo of this bird, and all descriptions were equally lacking. Only that it was (apparently poorly) bird shaped.

Anyway. Cuckoo. Rain. Spring. Mountains. Zeus. Arkadia? I can't link it exactly but I feel there's plenty enough to associate the cuckoo with Zeus Lykaios.

I have a few things to do today, plus it’s 430am, but I am now determined to prove that the cuckoo, the herald of rain, is absolutely @seaofwine ‘s smol birb in Arkadia.

Or at least a solid argument why it should be. Watch this space.

[hopelikethemoon]

Out of Reach (Ezra x Reader) ||{Moonbeam} || [smut]

Title: Out of Reach Rating: Explicit  Length: 5,500 Warnings: Pregnant!Reader, angst, smut (oral sex and regular sex), space drug use.  Notes: Proof that I do love all of you.  Part twenty-two of the Moonbeams series.

As soon as you entered the atmosphere of Lykaios, all of your nausea vanished. There was true bliss in being able to gobble down a handful of dehydrated biscuit snacks for the first time in a few days. No more shots, no more nausea tabs, and no more… leaving for the time being.

Shiva had taken it upon themselves to stock your transport with two months of food, mostly to avoid interacting with Quinn. There was something new to feel guilty about. If Quinn hadn’t had to reveal his true identity — because of you — they would’ve been speaking.

You could only hope, but Quinn was leaving alone to go back to Ay-7 for awhile. Shiva didn’t even give him a send-off. 

You couldn’t blame them for being upset with him. Shiva, like most people, despised anyone affiliated with Fiorta. But he was still Quinn. Even if his name was actually Riordan. Except it wasn’t — he may have been born as Riordan, but he chose Quinn.

They’d get over it, sooner or later.

Your heart did somersaults when you saw that Ezra was waiting in the clearing for you. It flooded you with false hope, before you quickly reminded yourself of the reality. He was just walking through the motions.

“Welcome back, moonbeam,” Ezra drawled out as he stepped aboard the transport. “How are you feeling.”

“Good.” You answered as you sealed the door closed. “I ate.”

He smiled warmly, “I was worried about you. Nutros only do so much.” Ezra took a step towards, his eyes lowering to your stomach. “May I?”

Your hand rested against the not-so-subtle swell there, “Of course.” You mirrored his expression, smiling at him. “It’s a good thing I went back to the Block to pick up a few new shirts.”

Ezra reached out and brushed his fingers over your stomach, before spreading his hand out over the curve. “It’s surreal to think that part of me is safely nestled right here.” 

“I can’t imagine why it’s surreal,” You teased lightly, reaching out to play with the soft hair that fell across his forehead, before running your fingers down his cheek. “How are you?”

“Better now.” He told you lightly as he rubbed his fingertips over your stomach. “Can you feel them yet?” 

“Sometimes I think I can,” You told him, resting your hand over the back of his. “Little flutters, but not anything substantial.” 

Ezra lifted his gaze to meet yours, “I feel like I should kiss you right now.” He told you as he stared at your lips. 

You curled your fingers around the back of his neck, teasing your fingertips through the hair at the nape of his neck there. “Then kiss me.” 

He closed the distance between the two of you, his lips brushing over yours. But that wasn’t enough, Ezra tilted his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue sweeping over your bottom lip as he sought entrance. 

A soft groan escaped you as you sank into the kiss, grabbing at his shoulder for support. If you could just forget for a few moments, suspend the bitter taste of reality, you could just pretend. Ezra was always so enthusiastic when you came back, always ready to smother you with attention or recite a new line of poetry that captured his interest. 

He broke away from the kiss before you had fully savored the brief brush with your imagination, his breath dancing over your lips as he pressed his forehead to yours. “I’m sorry, I—“

You pressed your fingers to his lips and shook your head. “Not yet.” You whispered, winding your arms around his body and pressing your face into the crook of his neck. He ran his hands down your back, but his touch was awkward — like he wasn’t sure how you needed to be held. There was just enough fumble to pull you back into the bleak moment. 

“So,” You started, twisting yourself out of his embrace and putting space between the two of you. “I apologize for returning so soon. I know I said I anticipated a week.” You had made it four days — not including travel time. 

“You don’t have to apologize for that, moonbeam.” He assured you, shifting his weight from the heels of his feet to his toes and back again. He looked as awkward as you felt. 

“I know, but I told you I would give you space and I’m… Clearly not great at that.” 

The faint smile on Ezra’s lips drew into a tight thin line, “Space. Right.” He clasped his hands together, “You indicated that there was more amiss than what you revealed over the com.” 

You grimaced a little, “Would you like to go sit?” 

“Sure.” Ezra gave a stiff nod, before starting down the corridor towards your quarters, instead of the common area. 

“Ezra?” 

He glanced back at you, “What?” 

“Do you know where you’re going?” 

He stopped, turning towards you then. “Your quarters?” 

“You haven’t been on my transport before… since what happened.” You had spent your last night on Lykaios with him on his transport — before heading back to yours with Shiva the next morning. 

Ezra blinked slowly, “I haven’t.” 

You shook your head. 

“Oh.” He laughed incredulously. “I think I remember…” He looked back down the hallway towards your quarters, brows drawn together. “It’s dark.” 

“It’s alright.” You moved towards him, reaching for his hand. “I don’t expect you to remember anything.” 

Ezra shook his head, “That was weird. It was almost like…” He squeezed your hand. “Like an impression of something I once knew.” 

You brought his hand to your lips, letting it linger. “It’s a start. Another start.” 

He rubbed his thumb over the center of your palm, before guiding you down the corridor to your quarters. 

“You know,” You started. “I would’ve been a lot more nervous to tell you this before.” 

“Bad news?” He arched a brow.

“It relates to Quinn.” 

“Do I want to know?” Ezra eyed you suspiciously and ducked as you swung your hand at him. “I’m joking!”

“Am I laughing?” You protested as the corners of your lips twitched upwards.

He started laughing, “Yes!” 

You put your hands on your hips, “No I’m not.” 

Ezra scooped you up — never ceasing to impress you with his strength — before depositing you unceremoniously onto the bed. “Tell me.” 

You huffed, sinking back onto your bed and propping your legs up on his lap. “It’s not fun news, you know. It’s more like, the Corps might be after our baby.” 

“What?” He stiffened, his eyes locking onto your face. “Why do you think that?”

“Well, at my appointment the medic discovered that the baby and I aren’t entirely compatible with each other. I personally think it only occurs when I’m not on Lykaios — I never feel that bad when I’m here.” 

“But the Corps.”

“I’m getting there. The medic wanted to do some risky procedure, which I vetoed and then… I mentioned that the father wasn’t fully human. Look, you could be Zendovian, Yaelori, or any number of species that have been known to mix with humans, but… my record says the last place I jumped to was Lykaios.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he held your gaze, “And then what?”

“I lied. I said the baby was conceived on Ay-7, just to save face. Timing is off if they pull the logs, but…” You sank back and stared at the ceiling. “I don’t think they’ll be a problem.” 

“When has the Corps ever not been a problem?” He seethed. “They’ll come here and ruin everything. That’s what they do.”

“Not always. Especially… considering I discovered that all this time I knew the heir to Fiorta.” 

“Riordan Northcott vanished twenty years ago,” Ezra remarked. “Rumors always suggested he was caught with his pants down with the wrong person.”

You snorted, “That sounds about right.” You tilted your head to look at Ezra, “It’s Quinn.”

“Excuse me?” His jaw dropped. “Our Quinn?” 

You nodded slowly, “Rumors apparently weren’t largely exaggerated. He only told me the need-to-know aspects of his life, but… it makes so much sense now.” 

He was still just staring at you, “And he isn’t involved?” 

“No.” You assured him. “But he’s going to get involved to try to waylay any danger. Given all of their ventures, I can’t imagine that Lykaios or our baby is high on their radar.” 

“And this was what had you so agitated?”

“Well, yeah. Quinn is about to get himself tangled up in a situation he tried to leave because of me, Shiva won’t talk to him, and you’re…”

“Broken?”

“For lack of a better word.” You sighed heavily. “If I hadn’t gone to Arcadia, if I hadn’t made that deal, if I hadn’t… stupidly brought it up with you.” 

Ezra lifted your legs off his lap so he could move up the bed, draping himself over your body carefully. His knees pressed into the thin mattress on either side of your hips, his hands planted beside your head. 

“You have to stop blaming yourself, moonbeam.” He told you, his dark eyes fixed on yours. There was a familiar warmth there, a quiet adoration that warmed you.

“I have a lot of regrets,” You admitted, trying to will the tears you felt welling in your eyes not to fall. 

Ezra’s brows creased together, “Do you regret what we had?” 

“No,” You whispered, before you quietly corrected yourself. “A little. More so now that I know that…” You shook your head slowly. “I didn’t know how serious your condition was, Ezra. You hid it so well.” 

“If I chose not to reveal that to you, perhaps it was because it didn’t matter to me anymore. A person can overlook pain if the alternative is better than they could’ve imagined.” He drawled out, brushing his knuckles against your cheek. “I may not truly know you, little lamb, but I know what the ghost of these emotions feel like.” 

You blinked slowly, causing a hot tear to slip down your cheek. “Everyone has had to make sacrifices because of me. How is that fair?” 

“Haven’t you made your own?” Ezra questioned, “You told me that you died and now you’re carrying our baby — something that is to the detriment of your own life. We all make sacrifices for those we love. We give little pieces of ourselves to the people who matter.” 

“Ezra—“

He ran his thumb over your bottom lip, “I may not remember, but I do know why I would make certain decisions.”

You curled your fingers around the back of his neck, sliding your fingers over the scar that marred his skin there. “Why?”

“I feel the depths of my love for you, even still.” He murmured, his voice dropping low as he leaned down to kiss you. 

This was a dangerous game — one you ached to play. 

You raked your fingers through his hair as you tilted your chin to close the distance between your lips. Your tongue slid out, trailing across his lips as you sought out his. A needy sound rising up the back of your throat. 

Ezra moved above you, planting a knee between your thighs. 

Once again, he broke the kiss before you were ready for the moment to end, breath dancing over your tender lips. “What about slow?” 

“Fuck slow.” You hissed out, reaching down to tug at the hem of his shirt, drawing the fabric up his back. 

Ezra sank back on his legs, peeling off his shirt and tossing it aside. You sat up, reaching out to run your hands over the warm skin of his chest. 

You pressed your lips to the hollow of his throat, letting your lips linger there, before he helped you pull off your own thin sweater.  His hands roamed over your newly bared skin, sliding along the curve of your waist. 

“You’re sure?” He questioned, brows drawn together with concern as he cupped your cheek. 

“Yes,” You nodded, reaching down to unlatch the buckle of his belt, pulling it from the loops of his pants. “I need this.” 

Ezra kissed the top of your head. “Whatever you want, moonbeam.” He murmured, his voice almost too quiet to even hear. But you did. 

You tugged the zipper down and forced the closure apart so you could shove his pants down his hips and thighs. After they were shed, you laid back and let him do the same with your pants, peeling away every barrier that separated the two of you — except for his memories. That was a barrier you couldn’t breach. Not yet.

Ezra laid you back against the bed once more, draping himself over you as he claimed your mouth again. His rough hands wandered, skimming over the swell of your breast, dragging his thumb over your taut nipple, before trailing downwards to grasp at your hip as he rocked against you. 

His cock was trapped between your bodies, rigid against your thigh. He moved downwards, mouth hot against your throat, lips brushing over that spot at the crook of your neck that always seemed to draw him in. 

You let yourself get lost in the sensation. Ezra’s skilled mouth tasting every inch of you from your lips to the soft flesh of your inner thighs. 

“Look at you,” He drawled out as he parted your slick folds, brushing his thumb over clit. “Fuck, you’re soaked, little lamb.”  

It reminded you of the first time your thighs had framed his face, the first time he coaxed a release from you. Your lips parted with a breathy moan as Ezra sank two fingers into your slick center, his tongue sweeping over that aching bundle of nerves. 

Your hips arched up off the bed and his grip tightened to hold you steady. He curled his fingers within you, seeking out that sweet spot that only he seemed skilled enough to find. 

“Ezra.” You moaned, squirming beneath him as he sucked at your clit lightly. You were right on the brink, inner walls fluttering around his fingers. 

Ezra released his hold on your hip, reaching for your hand instead. It wasn’t fair — the way he slotted his fingers in between yours, the way he held your hand as he pushed you over the edge. 

It felt like bliss and agony rolled into one as you came apart at the seams, your cunt gushing around his fingers as he dragged them in and out of you. 

He took his time with you. You watched him lick his fingers clean, before he worked his tongue between your slick folds, lapping at your arousal. 

You pressed your foot against his shoulder, trying to push him away as you twitched beneath his ministrations, your clit far too sensitive to endure the teasing stroke of his tongue. “Ezra.” 

He turned his head and nipped at the inside of your thigh gently, “Tell me I never took this for granted.” He peppered kisses over your skin. “I could devote my life to making you come — just like this.”

“You took full advantage,” You told him with a lazy smirk as you watched him move back up the length of your body. You ran your thumb over his bottom lip, fresh desire burning through you as he sucked your thumb into his mouth. “As did the beast.” 

“I bet.” He released your thumb with a wet pop, before leaning in to kiss you. You could taste yourself on his lips and his tongue, which only fueled your need. 

You curled your leg around his hip, moaning against his mouth as his cock dragged between your sensitive folds. “Please.” 

He pulled back, resting his forehead against yours. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” You breathed out as you reached between your bodies to guide his cock to your center. “I need this. You.” 

Ezra gently cradled your jaw in his palm, keeping his gaze locked on yours as he pressed into you. His lashes fluttered, but he kept his gaze trained on you. “Fuck.” He rasped. “You feel good.” 

“So do you.” You leaned up and caught his bottom lip between your teeth, tugging gently at it before trailing kisses along his jaw. “I missed this.” 

Ezra stroked his thumb down the center of your throat, before planting both hands against the bed beside your head for leverage. He rocked forward, snapping his hips into you before drawing back and repeating the motion again and again. 

It was different — good, but different. It lacked the desperation of that first time with Ezra and it lacked the tenderness that came from loving someone. It was still him. He just couldn’t remember what came before. 

A part of you wished you had rolled over beneath him, pressed your face into the pillow and let him drive the length of his cock into you, but it hasn’t felt right. This felt right. 

Looking up at him as he rocked into you, kissing him each time he dipped down to steal another one from you. There was so much there that just was — memories or no memories. 

Tendrils of pleasure burned through you as you clenched around his cock, fingernails digging into the back of his arms as you climbed to him. 

Ezra picked up the pace, his breath coming out in labored pants as he filled you. Your name slipped past his lips as he buried himself within you and came apart. He kept himself there, rocking his hips slowly as he spilled out. 

He slid out of you far sooner than you wanted, rolling onto the bed beside you to keep from putting too much weight on your stomach. You prepared yourself for him to pull away — to put space between the two of you. But he didn’t. 

Ezra pressed his lips to the curve of your shoulder, molding his body into the shape of yours, his hand wandering over your bare skin, before settling at your stomach. “I don’t know the particular cautions around copulation during pregnancy.” He remarked, his words muffled against your shoulder.

You snorted, “Never change.” 

He tilted his head to rest his chin against your arm, flashing you a cheeky grin. “What?” 

“Copulation.” You rolled your eyes. “You’re the only man I know who would use ‘copulation’ immediately after fucking.” 

Ezra shrugged a shoulder, “It sounded right, little lamb.” He smirked a little, his fingers wandering lower. 

Your lips parted with a breathy sigh as he skimmed his fingers between the slick folds of your cunt, gathering up the mess left behind there. “Ezra.” You whispered, curling your fingers around his wrist as you pulled his hand away. 

He arched a brow as he watched you bring his fingers to your mouth, dragging your tongue over them before wrapping your lips around them. He stroked his fingers over your tongue as you let them go with a wet pop. 

“Fuck, that’s…” Instead of finishing his sentence, he kissed you. The kind of kiss that was bound to leave your lips tingling tomorrow. 

You melted into him as he kissed you, meeting his desperation with your own until you were both nose-to-nose and drawing in ragged breaths. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, pressing his face into the crook of your neck.

“Don’t be.” You murmured, kissing his shoulder as you curled your arms around him. “This… you  . You’re all I need right now, Ez.” You didn’t have to pretend. You could just fall in love with him all over again. 

Ezra tossed his satchel onto the bed beside you as he shook a handful of loose lunaxium in his palm, “You wouldn’t happen to have a mortar and pestle, would you?”

“You brought one,” You finished the last bite of fruit, before sliding out of your bed. “How is it?”

“Thought I could ignore it. We had such a good evening last night, but…” He grimaced and shook his head. 

“Would you be willing to tell me more?” You questioned as you stepped out into the corridor to retrieve the device from the fresher. “You were always downplaying it until, well… You were in rough shape.”

“Right now it’s simply just a mind-numbing headache. Everything is darkly tinged at the corners.” He took the mortar and pestle and started grinding it into a thin powder. “I am almost proud of myself for concealing it. That had to have been no easy task.” 

You watched him as he carefully lined up the lunaxium dust, before snorting it. It didn’t look particularly pleasurable at first. His brows knit together and his jaw dropped, but then his features softened. 

“Sorry,” He muttered, rubbing the back of his hand under nose. 

“No, no.” You shook your head. “It doesn’t bother me. You just always hid when you had to use it.” 

“I was probably ashamed,” Ezra admitted. “I get the impression that I didn’t like the reminders of our differences.” He rubbed at his nose again, before scooting back to lean against the wall beside you. “How are you?” 

“I slept well last night.” You told him as you picked up another piece of fruit from the dish beside you, peeling off the peel. “Someone wore me out.”

Ezra chuckled, cocking his head to the side as he looked at you, “It was quite a way to end my five year dry spell a second time.” 

You pried out a segment of the fruit, biting it in half before offering the other bite to him. “I think it was exactly what we both needed.” 

He leaned over and used his mouth to take the fruit from your fingers, licking the nectar off his bottom lip. “It didn’t feel like scratching the itch.” Ezra drawled out, rubbing his thumb over the center of his forehead. 

“Is it helping?” 

“Yeah.” Ezra exhaled slowly. “Takes a few to kick in.” He slumped back against the wall. You could tell it was working it’s magic on him. His movements seemed sluggish and relaxed. All of the tension in his body seemed to ebb away. 

“Do you think I should take lunaxium?” 

Ezra’s eyes slid to meet yours, “For what?”

You gestured to your stomach, “This little spawn of yours.” 

“Pup.” He corrected with a crooked grin. “I don’t know. You said you get sick when you’re off world?”

“Nausea, cramping, headache, general malaise.” You explained as you took another bite of fruit. “It’s getting worse every time I go back to the Block.”

“Then you should stay here,” Ezra ran his fingers down the side of your arm. “You already proved that you can endure the full moon here. That the beast knows you, little lamb.” 

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “And that’s how I know you’re not you.” 

“But I am.” Ezra insisted, leaning to rest his head against your shoulder. “I’m still the man who loves you.” 

Your expression fell, “Ezra, you’re high.” 

“So?” 

“So.” You muttered, grabbing a pillow to present him with instead of your shoulder as you started to move out of his grasp. “You barely know me.” 

Ezra stretched out on your bed, his arms wrapped around the pillow as he rested his face against it. “But I do know you. I feel you.” 

“Sleep it off, champ.” You remarked as you cleaned up the mess you’d made with the fruit, sitting the bowl of discarded peel on the little stand beside your bunk. 

“Are you listening to me?” He questioned, even as his eyes were tightly closed. 

“Yes, I am.” You sighed, dropping his satchel on the ground as you pulled the covers up and over him. “But you’re high and talking nonsense.” 

“I was confused,” Ezra mumbled. “When you brought me back to my transport. My thoughts were so disjointed and I didn’t mean… I care about you, moonbeam.” 

“It’s all been forgiven,” You assured him, brushing your fingers through the hair that fell against his temple. “Just relax. Hopefully you’ll wake up feeling better.”

“Will you stay?” He drowsily rubbed his hand over the bed beside him. 

“I’m going to call Shiva and then I’ll come back to bed.” You promised. “Just rest, Ez.” 

“I like when you call me that.” Ezra whispered, as his breathing finally evened out. 

You quietly moved across your quarters to grab your datapad out of the charging dock, before heading down the corridor to the cockpit. Shiva hadn’t had enough time to set up the comlink like the one you and Ezra used — this one required an additional boost from the nav system to siphon off the satellite grid. 

It took three rings for them to answer, “Yrica’s frosty nips. I was asleep.” 

“Shit.” You checked the time. “I forgot. So much of our time is spent inside I lose track of—“

“It’s fine.” Shiva assured you. “How are you? Did you stop puking your guts up?” 

“As soon as I re-entered the atmosphere, I felt like new again.” You rested your hand on your stomach as you kicked back in your jump seat. “I carb loaded as soon as I could.”

Shiva yawned dramatically, “I hope you hydrated too.”

“I drank plenty.” You laughed softly. “Ezra was insistent this morning… or whatever time it was. We slept for like eight hours.” 

“How’s that situation going?” 

“Well—“

“You had your second first time with him, didn’t you?” 

“Am I that obvious?” 

“No, but he is.” Shiva snickered. “Despite how deceptive the two of you were being while I was there, his interest in you was blatant.” 

“At least I’m not misreading that situation.” You propped your elbow up on the armrest of your jump seat. “It’s a delicate situation.” 

“How were things after?” 

“Great.” You shrugged. “He’s still… It’s still Ezra. He still does what I would expect from him. We cuddled and he fell asleep. I woke up a little later to use the fresher and he was just as clingy when I got back.” 

“Oh, he was ‘clingy,’ huh?” Shiva taunted.

You rolled your eyes, “And then we slept for eight hours.” You felt your cheeks warm, “You’re not going to hear me complain about the wake-up.” 

“Called it.” They laughed softly. “You’ve got him wrapped around your finger. Where is he right now?”

“Resting. Headache.” You chewed on your bottom lip. “It kills me to know how much pain he’s been in all along, but he hid it from me.” 

“Yeah, well we all hide things from the people we care about.” 

“Have you heard from Quinn?” 

“Who?”

“Shiva.”

“Fuck Quinn.” 

“He didn’t keep that from us for insidious reasons, Shiva.” You sighed heavily. “I don’t understand why you won’t at least give him a little grace.”

“I’ve given him a lot of grace.” Shiva said flatly. “I’ve hauled his ass around the galaxy and bailed him out when he’s fucked up. He could’ve told me. I wouldn’t have judged him.” 

“You wouldn’t have judged him? Like you’re not judging him right now?” 

“It’s different now. He waited too long.” 

“Shiva, I genuinely think Quinn just repressed his past. The only reason it came up was because of me. I don’t think he kept that from us as a ‘fuck you’ to either of us.” 

“Maybe he’ll prodigal son his way back into their good graces. Then I won’t have to be his emotional support person anymore.” Shiva huffed. 

“Yeah, I’m sure he’s just chomping at the bit to get back in there and have his life controlled by his ultra-conservative family.” You snapped. “Quinn definitely seems like the type to be content with that.” 

“We both know he loves glad-handing.” 

“He also loves being free to do who and what he pleases.” You sank back in your seat. “Give him an inch, Shiva. Don’t make me feel guilty over killing your friendship.”

“Then Riordan shouldn’t have lied to us.” 

“I don’t think Quinn was doing it as a slight.” You shook your head. “Just try, alright?” 

“No, but I’ll say ‘yes’ to help you sleep better at night.” 

“I’m honoured.” You quipped. “I should probably go. I promised Ezra I’d nap with him.” 

“Com me later?” 

“Yeah. Go back to sleep.” 

“I’m up now. I’ve got an AI bot to tinker with.” 

“Have fun with that.” You offered, before killing the com. You had to hold onto the hope that the two of them would fix their friendship. They’d been friends too long to see that torn apart because of you. 

Ezra was still out cold on your bed and snoring softly. He looked so relaxed — he always did when he was asleep and unbothered by the pain. You wished he’d been honest with you about all of that before. It hurt a little more to find out from a version of him that was uninhibited by emotions. 

You leaned down to pick up the contents of his satchel that had spilled out on the floor by your bed. The little pouch of lunaxium had lost a few pieces of the rock. You tucked them back into the pouch — all but one. 

If your baby was like Ezra, wouldn’t they need lunaxium too? 

Sinking down onto the side of the bed you placed the rock on your tongue, it tasted like copper and something oddly tangy. The rough texture felt strange against your tongue, but it softened into a malleable enough texture that you could swallow it.  

At least it seemed safer to try lunaxium with Ezra right beside you. It took awhile to feel anything. You’d done dust on At-7 — you knew what getting high felt like. But this was slower, it weighed down your limbs and made your insides feel… different. 

You drowsily slid under the covers beside Ezra, curling into the crook of his body, seeking his warmth as an unusual chill moved through your body. 

Everything felt a little brighter, a little louder… You could feel the life humming from within you. That star that you had plucked from the sky and swallowed. The life that had taken root within you, that was drawing from you for sustenance. 

Light twisted behind your eyes, causing you to fall upwards into an increasing brightness — like you were ascending into a supernova. Bathed in warm light. Was this what Ezra felt whenever he used lunaxium? 

You seemed more aware of your existence. Every little flutter in your womb felt like you should’ve been able to see the movement beneath your skin. If you could even see your own body. It was just light. 

“Moros holds the keys to all of our fate.” 

“Who’s there?” 

You recognised the voice. Callisto. 

“He tricked us to turn on our own brother.” She told you, her disembodied voice like a whisper against your skin. “Convinced Psophis that freedom was his, only to bind him into the form of a wolf for all eternity.”

“Can I get Ezra’s memories back?”

“They’re not gone… just out of reach.” Callisto told you. “Like your own were.” 

“But I remembered.”

“Ezra was weak. The fight was drained from him before he could cling to his mind.” 

“And I’m supposed to trust you?” 

“An enemy of my enemy is the closest of friends.” Callisto assured you. “Arcadia is out of reach for my siblings, but you…” 

“I’m not going back there,” You protested. “Not while I’m pregnant.” 

“Once the child is born,” Callisto said smoothly. “We will spare both of you, if you help to free us.” 

“And Ezra?” 

“Will be free too.” 

“But his memories.” 

“Are just out of reach.” Callisto repeated. “Promise me you’ll help to free us.” 

“I’m leery of making vows after Moros.” 

She sighed, “We’ll spare you and your child, regardless of your success.” 

“And Ezra?” 

“And Ezra.” 

“Then I’ll help.” You told her, blinking at the dark shape in the bright light that surrounded you. You could see her — the outline of her. “But I can’t make any promises.” 

“Hope is enough for me.” Callisto vanished, swept up in a breeze, taking the light with her. 

Stars cascaded above you, falling across the sky rather than downwards. Green light danced through the night sky, transforming into shimmering blue and pink shapes, before vanishing with the stars. 

You fell backwards, falling and falling until you felt the firm pressure of your mattress at your back. 

You gasped, sitting bolt upright in the bed. The movement was enough to jerk Ezra awake, a sharp growl escaping him like he was primed to attack someone. 

“It’s just me.” You assured him, meeting his wild eyes. “It’s just me. I had a nightmare.” 

Ezra kept staring at you, his chest rising and falling unevenly. “I thought…” He blinked, shaking his head. “I don’t know what I thought.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” He rubbed the heel of his palm against his forehead. “I think I was still asleep.”

“You growled.” 

Ezra laughed a little as he sank back onto the bed, “You scared the shit out of me.”

“Did you think you remembered?” You questioned quietly. 

He nodded stiffly, before admitting, “For just a second.” Ezra pulled you towards him, pressing his face into your hair. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“It’s alright,” You kissed his throat and the underside of his jaw. “It’s just out of reach.” 

His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Exactly.”