#char. » alectryon

[aphthiton]

@kallistcs / for Ganymede from Alectryon !

The sword in his hand was surprisingly weightless. Using one finger, Alectryon had managed to keep the sword balanced as he walked across the courtyard. God-forged steel was like that depending on the owner, as if trying to be less of an impediment when used, something of which had always caught Alectryon up. Fascinating as it was to him, he could only get a brief peek at how Hephaestus created such masterpieces every time he picked up the newest weapon for Ares. It was never enough to sate.

One shift, he caught the sword in hand before stopping.

Alectryon turned and met the gaze of another across the way. Now of course news traveled far and wide of Lord Zeus' new cup-bearer, but that was the thing: he heard about it. It was hard to say that Alectryon had expected to see him, thinking he would be holed up in the big palace up at the highest point, never to come out because why would he?

A brow raised then. A flick of his gaze to where Ares' palace lay before marking out two choices to decide upon. The big guy was not there. Not yet. Aphrodite had called and thus Ares would be gone for an hour to days, weeks, even months depending on the goddess. No one would really blame him for taking a detour.

His feet shifted towards Ganymede, his choice made. ❛ You're Trojan, aren't you? ❜ Alectryon said in way of greeting, keeping the sword at his side lest the other get the wrong idea. ❛ Last I was down there, your people were barely a kingdom. Good to see something come from that. ❜ He kept watch on the Thracian tribes, an easy thing to do with the god he attended, but the news of Troy filtered through as one of their allies had always stuck through the years.

❛ Ah, apologies, ❜ he let out a quiet laugh. ❛ I'm Alectryon, attendant of Lord Ares. Not everyday there's another in this situation, if you can imagine. ❜

[x1702x]

Everytime i get a gow oc idea i just scream into the void because i have too many (Askr, Alectryon, Vidarr, Hödr, Enginn and a long etc) BUT i love designing characters so much its so fun, i love making them kiss like dolls w other ocs or chars

[aphthiton]

things your muse will notice about mine — Alectryon !

what they look like. resembling a rooster, his hair is dark auburn and gathered towards the top of his head in a complicated half-braid that reaches past the small of his back and hits the center of his thighs. some of his hair, thick as it is, that is not within the long braid and is instead let free ( almost in the appearance of feathers ). his features are sharp, coming to a point at the center with a rather wide mouth, giving a rather harsh beauty to him that may come across as seemingly dangerous at first glance. his nose is dusted with faint freckles. his eyes are lifted and a dark brown, almost black in color. with his immortality, the brown changes to a rust-colored orange bright within its iris. while his body sits at a decent height, it is lean with sleek muscles that hold a focus mostly in his arms and legs ( the ones most used hunting, designed for speed and quick strength ). his skin tone is that of a light tan given the area of Thrace he came from. his clothes are often of the dark crimsons, forest greens, dark browns, and burnt orange accents, with gold jewelry to offset. his back is always straight, head held high, he could be seen as strutting as he walks depending on the watcher.

what they smell like. as a human, he smelt of berries, soap made of lard and lye, the earth around him. sometimes of smoke from a wood fire, of sweat, of humanly things that marked him for what he was at the time. as an immortal, he takes on the smell of who has given him this new life. the metallic scent of blood is most notable, hinted with the fruity scent of ambrosia and the heady scent of nectar that often make its own perfume upon his person.

what they sound like. jovial in tone, yet quiet when it needs to be and even loud enough to throw it across the deep forest. his voice could be known as warm, soothing almost when it matters most. a voice meant for stories around a fire, within the dark of a hearth room to inquiring ears who delight in a thrill for the night. it will not sing, but it will meander through like the valleys it came from. but it changes when angry, it gets loud when affronted to pierce even the beasts the owner of the voice hunts. however his accent is that of a certain dialect within the Thracian tribes known closest to the forested hills and the Black Sea. less is said to get more across, words are shortened to the point where nobility is notedly far from his ancestral line. crass perhaps, to some ears more used to a smoother tongue, yet it does not distract from his features, only enhances them.

what they feel like. warm to hot, his skin feels as if he is burning up with each touch given. as an immortal, it feels like fire almost as if he would leave his fingerprints upon anything he presses them to. yet his flesh is smooth, almost without blemish if one never searches for the scar that mars the side of him that would have been his death. his hands are calloused, fingertips ripped and bled from taut bowstrings so many times that it took on a hardness that only so much soothing gels could fix. yet with a touch, he opens himself to another, the flaws are less seen then and hardly matter.

[aphthiton]

ooc. left over tag drop 🚶

[aphthiton]

ooc. caution: this is very long under the cut. but here's the first half of the story i wrote back in 2021 for alectryon. granted, with the other canon characters in this, take my writing with a grain of salt lol ( also the history, it might be iffy ) it does not need to apply to them if you don't want it to, this is just to give an idea of how i'm going to write alectryon / his story if anyone wants to write with him c: the only warning is animal death at the beginning because hunting.

I.

The elders all told of a giant boar ravaging through the wild forest of the Haemus mountains north of their tribe. It had been noted to terrorize animals, leaving bloody tracks and rotted corpses that other hunters came upon, leaving food sources scarce. Nearby tribes were experiencing the same problem with this beast, mad with bloodlust as it were a monster birthed within their midst as punishment from the gods. It needed to be put down, regardless. There was a chance that it could leave the forests for the fertile plains, bored of small animals, and instead graduate to small children.

Thus, there was a reward to whoever did put an end to its madness, but while many attempted, none were successful. When a prized hunter of the Triballi tribe came back with a gored leg, which needed to be amputated lest he succumb to death’s gentle touch, made for any last-ditch courageous offer to slowly vanish into uncomfortable silence.

But Alectryon held the vigor of youth, where some may say was cause for stupid and rash actions, he did not see it as such. With bow in hand, knife upon his belt, he made his way to the mountain pass. It was a day’s ride to the boundary line of the forest, but he camped just outside of it with his horse nearby. There was no doubt in his mind that the boar was out there, the screaming squeal of the beast echoed through the night. But goddess Nyx blessed him with cover, allowing him to wake up in the early morning fog to continue his hunt alive and well.

His step was light as he made his way through the thicket, barely rustling the foliage underfoot as birds chittered around him, unbeknownst to the terrors that was wrecked below their branches. He brought his bow to hand and nocked an arrow to the string. His horse was left behind to graze, but he wondered if he should have taken it with him the more he walked, finding nothing but trees and shrubbery. But he had to keep his wits about him. Wars were one thing, where the carrion and the smell of its rotted flesh sought to strip the cords of sanity within his mind, the hunt was merely the thrill of the wait. Patience was necessary. With a deep inhale and a slow exhale, he persisted, keeping track of where he was at and how long it had been.

A crazed squeal was heard in the distance, echoing through the woods. Alectryon perked up, glancing towards the east before changing his path to favor that direction. He knew he was getting closer as he began to hear the snarling grunts get louder and louder. To hunt any kind of boar, crazed or not, the element of surprise was a must. To bring attention to oneself might make other animals flee, but with a boar it would simply charge the hunter. The faster he was at taking down this beast, the better chance of coming out unscathed.

As the sounds of hooves upon dirt and the rustle of leaves came to his ears, his feet picked up in a run. Swift as he was, his eyes were like that of an owl’s in the dark of night as they darted around in his sockets, quick to make sure that he could spot the beast before it spotted him. Death was not for him today. Thanatos’ blade was stayed at his neck as he eyed the short brown tail of the massive boar, snarling and foaming at its white-tusked mouth.

Sliding soundlessly to his knees, he aimed his bow from the cover of a bush. He felt an invigorated strength latch onto his arms (like a pair of hands gripping him tightly) as he pulled the bowstring taut and released, letting his arrow slice through the air before stabbing the beast’s hind leg. It roared a terrible sound; the whites of its eyes grew larger as its breathing puffed out like smoke into the air. Before Alectryon could get a new arrow and nock it to his bow, the boar ran. With a silent curse, Alectryon sprinted after the frantic wild thing. His legs were given the power to remain in sight of the boar. Taking his bow up again, he shot, but the arrow only pierced the beast’s right ear, serving only to enrage it further. So much for that surprise.

A glimpse in his peripheral had him looking away from the boar for a second to spy a figure in Hellene wear running alongside him. Red eyes flashed. But the boar pushed behind thorn tipped bushes and before it could get away, he vaulted over them. An unexpected turn for the beast who sought the solace of the foliage’s protection. It was limping now, crimson blood wetted brown fur. The beast sweated and panted, frothing at the mouth as it dug its hoof against the ground to create a cloud of dust. A cave was behind it, blocking any further progress, so now it was a chance to fight. Large as it was, dwarfing even Alectryon who did not wait to launch another arrow at it, piercing its neck.

He would have been surprised if that were it. Instead, the fear and anger the boar felt was now turned on Alectryon. Despite the limp, it charged. Alectryon had a second to dodge the tusks aimed for his stomach, but he twisted away with a light stumble. His bow was cumbersome now. He put it across his shoulders and pulled out his knife before the boar charged at him again, but he was not quick enough. The tip of its tusk ripped through his tunic and dragged against his skin. Pain barely felt, he took the close proximity for his own benefit and shoved his knife deep into its side. The boar felt it, screaming in pain now, but Alectryon held on as the beast shot away, allowing his knife to drag along its tough flesh until he pulled it out once he hit the thigh bone.

Alectryon, breathless, turned around to watch as the beast’s innards poured out of it, giving sacrifice to the very gods of this land. Stinking and steaming against the cold ground—but it did not fall. Not yet. It bucked and reared, squealing and grunting in the effort to get away from the harm. But there was no hope for it. Its tyrannical reign of the forest was at its end, and with one last snort, it crashed with a dull thud. Slowly, with twitching limbs, the light of life vanished from its wide black eyes. Alectryon stood over the corpse and closed his eyes, letting out a breath of relief before placing his hand upon its fur. He gave his thanks for the meat that will feed a tribe which once feared this very same beast.

Opening his eyes, he let out a breath that caused a sharp pain to jolt through him. He glanced down at the tear in his tunic before peeking in to find blood coming out faster than he would have liked—drenching his side in the process. “No,” he wheezed, dropping to his knees. “Not now.” Taking off his cloak, he was about to rip it into a tourniquet before a powerful grip stopped him from doing so. Anger blossomed, but fear came in the shape of a hand covering his eyes while another grasped his wound tight. He gritted his teeth, whimpering against the pain before the hands were taken away. Eyes opened to a flash of red and then nothing. Only he and the boar remained still. He glanced at where his wound should have been, but upon his tanned skin was a line of healed, raised flesh.

Blood dripped from his face to the ground, startling him. He reached up, finding that where the stranger’s hand laid upon him, there was blood left in its wake. Metallic smelling with the odd heady aroma of a sweet concoction. The latter scent confused him as he turned around in hopes of finding the stranger, but he still came up empty. With it, he felt a sudden loss, but he had to shake himself out of those thoughts before the insects on the ground take their hold on the corpse and mark it as their own.

Taking his cloak now, he laid it on the ground and began to pile its innards in the middle of it. Then, with his knife, he began to skin the corpse. He was careful to make sure that there were no extra cuts in the pelt, using the techniques his mothers had taught him before he was ready to move onto cutting out the meat. The meat he gathered was stacked on top of the innards that he then wrapped up in the cloak, tying it up once full. Tusks, legs, and the fur pelt were all carried with one hand, while the other began to drag the makeshift bag. It would be a slow journey, but this was his only way, fearing that animals would pick apart the bag before he had a chance to get his horse.

Alectryon felt a touch upon his arm, strength flowed into him and the bag was lifted by his own hand. He saw no one. He had no explanations, but he also did not want to question a good thing. Thus, with renewed energy, he towed his prize out of the forest and to where his horse remained, grazing still upon the verdant grass of the welcoming plains. The sun was already dipping close to the horizon line, but the orange glow of the evening sky welcomed him with a warm embrace. He could breathe easy now.

Setting his prize down, he made to get his horse back to saddle it and place the makeshift bag upon the back of it. Using rope, he tied down the rest on top. Before long, he was away, and he wanted to make the journey back as fast as he could. Proud as he was, he more so wanted to tell the elders that there was no need to worry anymore. There was a certain type of feeling that he loved when those he cared about were relieved—that he had a hand in their content. He smiled against the wind as he closed his eyes, letting the dying heat of the sun wash over him one while his horse sprinted home.

II.

“Did you hear about Princess Polyphonte?” Strymon asked as he hung over the wooden fence that surrounded the horse pen. A shock of red hair puffed up from his head like smoke with blue eyes always squinting against the bright sun. He was someone who never really seemed to change aside from growing taller as he aged. His face was still round, making him look more like a boy than the man he was. At one and nine, perhaps that was not all too far off, at least in the eyes of the elders.

Alectryon glanced at his friend, switch in hand while in his other was a rope tied loosely to a young, black stallion’s neck which was trotting around him in a circle. He moved with it in a slow turn, keeping watch as the horse yielded to his commands. Well, most of them. The horse was yet to be fully broken in to allow someone to ride it safely, but Alectryon was seeing the progress enough to find some merit to having bought the horse. “No…I thought she ran away with the hunters of Bendis? At least, that was last I heard about it since she didn’t want to marry that one guy, Ister from the Dii tribe. Though, I don’t blame her—he was a bit of a bastard.”

“Think she wanted more than a bastard from what I hear,” Strymon said before Alectryon frowned at him in confusion. “So, she did run off with the hunters, right? But apparently, she fell in love with a bear while out there with them. Not sure how that happened… The bear must’ve been a smooth talker.” A snorted giggle came out of him then.

“Is this another one of your jokes?” Alectryon asked, face deadpanning. He knew Strymon to be one of grand imagination who always cracked jokes at whatever filled his mind for that day. Every time they were together, he would tell stories from the top of his head. A highlight at the tavern for the patrons, but Alectryon had heard it all ten times over. This one was new though, he had to admit, nor was it like any of his other stories.

“I wish it was.” But never did Strymon act this way while telling these stories of his. He never passed them off as the truth, but merely to entertain for a moment or two. This time was different, which confused Alectryon even more. His mouth opened, wanting to say something, but it simply closed with a strained, perplexed noise. Strymon kept going, nodding his head as if agreeing with Alectryon’s struggled comprehension. “Yeah, she’s pregnant too—no. She already gave birth a night or two ago. Got some bears in the palace now.”

“How—” Alectryon gaped. His hand lowered, allowing the horse to slow down to a walk. “How is that even possible?”

Strymon shrugged, unhelpful. “You know how my uncle’s a guard for the palace? Well, I heard him talking with my parents about how the mistress came running back in the dead of night, screaming so loud she woke half the barracks up. Apparently, some animals were trying to tear her to shreds, so my uncle and his group had to kill them as she fled inside. Was gone for months and to have her come back like that? Mad, really.” He shook his head. “Then, in the morning, she pops out bear-children. He said he could hear their growling cries from outside. Unnerved the poor bastard, he just kept staring off into space as he spoke about it.”

Alectryon let out a laugh full of disbelief. “You sure your uncle wasn’t deep into his cups? I mean you can’t be serious right? This sounds like one of old man Sater’s terrible stories he tells just to get a rise out of people when he’s bored, and the maid won’t give him a refill.”

Strymon hardly looked offended. He did not rise to the bait and instead shook his head, disbelief even in his eyes. The proof of him telling the truth was there, but was there proof in it actually being true? “I thought the same! But he was completely sober and was even thinking about quitting the service to go back to being a mercenary for the Hellenes. It was bad because who in their right mind would go back to doing that?”

“Huh,” he said as he glanced towards the western end of their town. He could not see the palace proper from where he stood, but instead wondered about the merit to this little rumor. Alectryon looked back at his horse who was now nibbling on the grass before he hit its behind with the switch to have it start running again. Maybe it was just that: gossip and nothing more. “Well, guess we’re going to have bears for kings when she passes.” A joke seemed better than admitting his belief or disbelief. How was he even supposed to react to that? Everything about a woman falling in love with a bear and siring children seemed illogical. Can that even happen?

Strymon chuckled as he stretched out his torso, balancing on the wooden beam with his hands firmly planted around it. “Doubt it. The gods are probably going to be really pissed. I wouldn’t be surprised if they all wind up dead and we’d have to place another on the throne. Might be that one warlord…the one with the beard, uh…” He snapped his fingers. “Gordios. Then he will have to watch his back since gods only seem to care about the royal ones, not about people like you or me. So, we’re safe.”

Red eyes flashed in his mind. A bloody hand covering his eyes and healing his wound.

“Safe from their blessings, sure, because there had been a couple nobodies that were cursed because they were really good at something—”

“They were all in Hellas, Alectryon,” Strymon groaned. “Our royals get the funny things happening to them.”

Alectryon chuckled. “Fair enough. Was she descended from a god or is this just chance?”

“Uh…Ares, I think, from her mother’s side. I mean almost all Thracian royals come from him, obviously, so I don’t really say that’s chance.” Strymon plopped down upon the wooden fence, sitting now with a hunched back as his arms folded upon the top beam and rested his chin upon them. “Makes me wonder about the other Hellene gods that pop up every now and again. Not Ares, since he’s more like us than those Hellenes—but the others… What do they want with us?”

Alectryon shook his head. He never thought that far about who they worship. His family were as devout as the rest, but there was always the notion that no god was ever going to save them to go along with that devotion. People like him may get some influence, a little guidance here and there, maybe even the scantiest bit of aid if they sacrifice enough to the gods, but there was nothing more than that to be given if wishing it so. His success, his glory was due to his own hard work, not a blessing from a god. Yet, he did know thinking that helped others in tough spots. However, these thoughts treaded the rather thin line of blasphemy and hubris, thus he kept it to himself. It was an odd sort of relationship that he had with religion, he knew that much.

Exhaling quietly, ridding himself of thoughts of gods and red eyes. For all he knew, the story of the royal family could be nothing more than that: a story. One created solely to scare those who were already drunk and unable to think critically. Or that Strymon had heard it all wrong. Princess Polyphonte could have had kids with some man from another tribe who were not on friendly terms with their own. And, in seeing the kids, the maid could have remarked that they were big, healthy, and strong like bears to appease the King and Queen both. Those of the Triballi tribe were supposed to seen as such, at any rate.

It was a thought that would have kept any one comfort were it true. And for a while, Alectryon was sure he was correct in his thinking. But when two years had passed and a series of strange killings began to wreak their havoc upon the town, his little story for himself started to fall apart the more people spoke of what they had seen in panicked whispers. Everyone said the same thing: two men, as tall as giants with brown shaggy hair much like a bear, and immensely strong with the savage instinct of a wild animal. A coincidence, perhaps, but such one no one desired to take a chance on. The very peace of the tribe was now being rocked by a threat coming from inside the royal palace.

But to take up arms against the royal family…now that was risking far more than anyone cared to admit. It was better to merely keep watch of the time, hunker down in their houses before nightfall, and pray for aid from the divine in a desperate plea that they would not find another one of their own dead by sunrise. But they always did. It was never a full body that could be easily identified either. The victims were always mauled, meat stripped from their bones before being discarded out in the open. Rumors began to spread that perhaps these beastly children had their fill of their family already, so the question of who or what was ruling them sprang into minds often. Strymon once tried to probe his uncle for more answers, but those within the palace guard had walked away, intent on protecting each other’s homes instead.

They were all in the dark. Alectryon noticed more and more families kept to themselves now, hurrying to get home as if it were the only place they felt truly safe in. Even his own brothers and sisters, especially the younger ones, kept indoors as they raced through the house in their blissful ignorance. He was among the adults of the groups who kept their silence, fearing that even speaking the names of the royal family would bring those two terrors down upon them. Alectryon sat upon the nook in the window, watching as his fathers and mothers cradled steaming drinks at the table while they spoke in low voices on what they were to do. The option of packing up and going to another tribe hung heavy in the air. There was also talk of heading to Hellas as well—a thought reserved for the most desperate of cases.

“Can’t we just storm the palace?” Alectryon remarked, breaking their conversation as each pair of eyes turned to him. From irritation to amusement, Alectryon frowned but pushed on. “Two against the tribe’s army should be easy, then we don’t need to cower anymore. If we all do that, it won’t be too bad—the consequences, I mean.”

A laugh from one of his fathers was soon taken up by the rest of his parents. Shame colored his cheeks, but he did not want to be cowed into backing down. At least not until he heard a good enough reason why they were not taking up arms.

“One and twenty and you still act like a boy,” his father, Hales, said through his deep laughter. He was the one Alectryon was sure was his birth father with how kindly he looked upon him, but any sense of asking his mothers would grant him small disagreeable sounds saying it was not important knowledge. “Alectryon, try taking up arms against the High King. Better yet, bring up the idea to any warlord and you would be tried as a traitor and killed as one faster than those beasts can swallow a body whole.”

Suppose that was the good reason. Alectryon rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “Fine, I see your point. I just hate this feeling. We are stuck at home, thinking about leaving instead of doing anything to solve this.”

“No one likes it, boy,” Hales continued. “But let the elders deal with this problem. All you need to worry about is watching and protecting your siblings. Got it?”

Alectryon nodded, dejected. “Yeah… Got it.”

Life began to feel cramped the longer these threats remained. Curfews were put in to place by the warlords and hunting became strict to the point where Alectryon was no longer allowed to head off on his own. Instead, he was cooped up in the house with his ten younger siblings as if this were a new form of torture cooked up by their parents. Trade, too, had been cut off from each tribe. They did not want to risk outsiders and spark a war with an unfortunate death. Essentially, the Triballi were cut off and things were only going to get worse if they kept this up. Still, no one wanted to deal with the actual threat, which made being stuck inside all the more aggravating.

With a sigh, he laid his head against the table with a hollow thump. There had been no new murders for the past five days and they were all starting to think that something finally had happened to the monsters. Or so they hoped. But the dreadful rumor of them having gone to another tribe was also circulating at the same time. How could they find out if it were the actual case though? All trade, thus all information, had been cut off due to their own insistence. He lifted his head and hit it once against the table. Patience. He needed patience. But this was getting far too out of hand.

Frantic knocking came to the door then, almost splintering the wood from the sounds of it, and Alectryon took full advantage of this appearance. He popped up from his seat, pushing his sister, Sete, off to the side before opening the door to nearly dodge a fist from Strymon.

“Sorry,” his friend said in a rush, looking back before grabbing Alectryon’s wrist to pull him out of the house. “But something’s happening at the palace.”

“Calm down, Stry—” Alectryon grunted as he was pulled further when Strymon began to run. He glanced back at the house where his sister’s head popped out from, glaring at him in irritation. “I’ll be back soon, I promise!” He called, but she did not say anything back and merely slammed the door. She would forgive him later, surely.

Pulling his arm out of Strymon’s grip, they ran faster down the dirt street, passing by confused but also alert neighbors. Some were even heading towards the palace and the question of why was on all their tongues. Picking up his feet, he pushed himself into a headlong sprint with Strymon keeping up easily by his side. There was no telling what they were going to happen upon, but they were not the only ones with the same idea. A small crowd was formed around the front of the palace, far from the actual doors, but close enough that there was no question this was what they gathered for. Those that stood around spoke in hushed whispers with withering glances to the palace as a loud roar was heard from within.

Alectryon pushed through with minor apologies before he got to the front. Strymon puffed beside him as he looked around. “They are saying two men had gone into the palace,” Strymon said. “It was one, but then another came running after him—no one knows from where though.”

“Neighboring tribes?” Alectryon tried, but Strymon shook his head.

“Doubt it, they weren’t wearing anything familiar. But If it were, why would they just send two men? One didn’t even look like a fighter. Too scrawny, really. He’d be first to be eaten by the beasts.”

Alectryon frowned, glancing from the palace doors to the side walls. There was nothing to be seen from the front and if the men had gone in, a small doubt formed in his mind of thinking they would never be seen again. His fingers wiggled at his side, his body feeling antsy from wanting to do something but not knowing what to do. Being kept in the dark was far too maddening, and the desire for answers filled his chest.

In a burst of irrational thinking, he raced towards the palace. Not to the front but dipped towards the side with Strymon trailing close behind, whispering urgent questions that Alectryon had to clamp a hand over his mouth the moment he ducked behind a wall in order to quiet them. He gave his friend a stern look before gesturing with his head to follow. They crouched low, guided by the sound of voices that got clearer the further they walked. It was not until they slid up the back wall of the house and Alectryon peeped through an open window did he find the inhabitants therein.

The High King looked haggard, worn thin as he stared down at something on the floor. The Queen, on the other hand, sobbed into the chest of one of the strangers. Could he be the Queen’s second husband? Curled silver hair shaved on the sides, skin like the night but warm like the sun, and striking compared to the others around him. The second stranger, who Alectryon thought was the one Strymon called scrawny, was tapping a finger to his chin before snapping his fingers together as a thought came to him.

“Cut off their hands and feet,” he announced, words were as fast as his movements like he was always in a rush to get things done. Short, cropped black hair with fiery orange wings at the side of his head. He wore a simple Hellene chiton, foreigner’s garb. “Seems a good enough punishment—can’t eat people when they can’t walk or grab things. Either that or kill them all, but wouldn’t you want to have something unique?”

The sobbing of the Queen grew louder, turning away from the first stranger into the arms of the King. The stranger’s back was broad, decorated by shining white and gold armor with a long, crimson cloak plunging down to the ground from the shoulders which heaved in a weary sigh. He was looking towards the Queen before he murmured. “No.” With a voice so deep it struck Alectryon as sad. More so than that. But the sound of a struggle somewhere had Alectryon sitting up a bit higher to see that the two monsterish children were locked in chains against the wall. They were beastly in form—frothing at the mouth with teeth as sharp as knives. Alectryon’s eyes grew wide, and he heard Strymon stumble back with a gasp.

He then whipped around, pulling Strymon down with him and hushed him. If they were found out, who knew what would happen to them. When Strymon calmed down, Alectryon moved to peek in once more as the two strangers made their move towards the chained beasts. The children tried to snap at the strangers, frenzied with the want of blood as all too human roars ripped forth from their throats. Yet, odd as it was, they calmed as each stranger placed a hand upon a beast’s head. A flash of light forced Alectryon to turn away lest he be blinded and then it was over. The beasts no more, but two great winged birds hopping out of the chains that once bound them in place. The very sight a strange miracle that left Alectryon gaping.

“Gods—” Strymon whispered. “They’re—they’re gods.” His friend scrambled back and Alectryon turned to him, trying to quiet him down, but the man was wide-eyed with terror. “I can’t—I-I want to live.” Strymon shook his head as he stumbled into a panicked run away from the palace, leaving Alectryon alone.

He swallowed hard and chanced another look through the window to find now four birds within the palace. The black-haired stranger picked up two and made his way towards another window, allowing the birds to fly off in their newly afforded freedom. But the silver haired one scooped up the great red bird, a beak much like a vulture, and gave it a loving pet upon its crest. “I think I will keep this one,” he murmured as the black-haired stranger picked up the other large bird to set it free outside. No one seemed to mind—merely a comment to himself. He allowed the bird to rest upon his forearm as he glanced back at the King and Queen.

Red eyes. It was him, from the forest—Alectryon sank a bit more, fearing he would be caught from this angle. Were they truly gods as Strymon said? He knew he should leave. That it would be better for him to be gone from this place, but his eyes kept to the red-eyed god and found a beauty about him. Were gods supposed to be seen as such? He glanced at the other god who was now pulling out a sheaf of parchment from his satchel as if the scene before him was not taking place. Surely, he was handsome as well, but Alectryon’s gaze kept getting drawn into those red eyes as if they were pulling him forth unknowingly.

“Father, I am sorry—I didn’t think she would turn out to be like this. I did all that I could, but she still…” the Queen said through his tears. The red-eyed god stepped forth, allowing the vulture to climb to his shoulder as he embraced the Queen with soothing words meant only for her ears.

Father…

Ares, I think, from her mother’s side. I mean almost all Thracian royals come from him.

Alectryon finally sunk out of sight from the window, and, in a daze, he made his way out of the vicinity of the palace. All his questions from before were finally given answers, but he was not sure if they unnerved him…or thrilled him. He made his way back to the crowd of onlookers who stared at him with the same questions he once had. Some pulled at his arm to stop and tell them what he saw, but he could only shake his head. It would sound too farfetched to say it out loud, and he doubted it would have been believed. So, he pushed away, and got to where Strymon was, far from everyone else as he stared up at the cloudless blue sky. Alectryon stood beside him and cleared his throat softly.

“Do you think they knew we were there, watching?” Strymon asked. His voice did not hold the same shake as before, but the fear could still be heard. “I mean…those two…the gods?”

“It was Ares—one of them. The Queen called him father. I don’t know who the other one was though.” Names of gods cycled through his mind, but none he could put that face to. Was that bad? Would that other god know of their ignorance? Could they read minds?

Strymon swore under his breath. “You hear stories from other people of what the gods do to those who are too curious or too arrogant for their own good. Think they are all idiots until you do something that gets yourself into that same position as the idiots, and down comes a god to make you regret ever being born. Now you’re the new idiot of a story told to warn people not to make the same mistakes.”

Alectryon huffed. “Just try not to think about it, Strymon. I doubt they noticed us—they were too busy with…all that.”

“I think I just want to go home now.”

“Good idea.”