Chapter Three

Alexion was a good cook.

His food was filled with so many tastes that for a second, I wasn't sure how to react. There was a slight tang to it, but the warm mild tastes of vegetables, barley, and lamb mixed in the thick broth. He'd even baked bread and stuck it in the oven before cutting it up into small pieces, putting it on a plate in front of me as I ate at the counter.

The unfortunate part was that my stomach cramped at the suddenly assault of so much food all at once combined with it actually being filling food. I was used to eating maybe once or twice a week, usually fruits I bought in town or loaves of bread Cerberus brought over. It was probably a shock to my body to eat so much at once.

I ate in silence, though, taking a sip of warm tea that Alexion had also taken the liberty of brewing. I probably shouldn't have eaten his food in case it was poisoned, but the smell of it was too alluring and it's not like it'd kill me anyway.

That still brought me to the questions buzzing around in my head.

How did Alexion end up in the Acheron river?

Why was he here?

Why hadn't he killed me yet?

I wanted to ask, but I wasn't sure how. It sounded okay in my mind, but so did half the things that I managed to blurt out and somehow people still looked at me oddly. It makes me regret ever opening my mouth. So, I remained quiet as I watched Alexion eat from his own bowl as he leaned back on the counter, eyes narrowed to look out the window across from him over the counter, not that there was anything interesting outside. It was just black sand that stretched off into dunes that eventually became steep mountains and cliffs.

He wasn't speaking either. Was he also uncomfortable?

"Are you going to kill me?" I forced myself to ask at last. Alexion didn't answer me. Either he didn't hear me or he didn't care to answer. I set my bowl down and retreated from the kitchen. It was probably a stupid thing to give Alexion my back, but I found myself not really caring again. Yet, he still didn't attack me. I went to my room and started to sit at my desk, but an odd feeling came over me. I cocked my head, frowning in confusion as my stomach lurched. I grasped at my stomach, leaning over my desk, taking in deep, shaking breathes. It felt like my stomach was rising into my throat.

And then I vomited. I hunched over and puked on the floor, eyes watering at the force of it. I gasped once I was finished, legs wobbling and threatening to give out on me. I hadn't vomited in so long that I forgot what it felt like. It was the worst sensation in the world. The burning acid in my throat, the horrid taste in my mouth, the way my stomach trembled.

"What the heck," Alexion demanded, coming into the room and making me grimace, "You were serious before about not eating, weren't you?" I could only muster an unsteady nod. Alexion sighed in frustration and waved his hand out, making the mess on the floor vanish. I let go of the chair to make my way to the bed, but as soon as I lost the support, my knees buckled and I almost crashed to the floor, but Alexion caught me under the arms.

"Jeez, all right. Here we go." He caught me off guard by the way he scooped me up in his arms like I weighed absolutely nothing. I probably didn't weigh that much. I couldn't be bothered to check my weight. I just knew I could poke my ribs without any trouble.

The odd sensation of being carried by someone three times my size was also interesting. His muscles were hard, tensing around me as he lifted what little weight I had. The muscles in his chest bunched and rippled. There was an interesting scent of him. Aside from the wet smell clinging from what had to be a shower, there was a natural earthy scent to him. It was stronger, and more masculine, than the scent Blaine carried. Blaine smelled more like herbs. Alexion smelled like fresh soil and pine and leaves.

He carried me to the bed and laid me down. He moved to take my hood off, but I grabbed my hood tight, indicating he wasn't about to touch it. He shrugged and moved his hand back. It wasn't that the hood was special. I simply felt more comfortable, more invisible, with it on.

"You probably shouldn't have eaten so much if you're not used to eating. I'll make something smaller and get you some chamomile to settle your stomach." Alexion muttered, very obviously glancing out the corner of his eye at the clock on the wall. I gave him a bored stare.

"Just leave." I said. Alexion scowled at me.

"If you're pissed at me--"

"I'm not angry," I responded flatly, "I just don't need your help. If you're going to kill me, do it now. If you're not, just leave." Alexion looked irritated at that.

"I should've killed you before even bothering with your brothers. You'd be no problem with that attitude." He said. For some reason, his words stung like a slap, but I said nothing in response. Just laid on the bed and waited for him to stab me or cut me open or just... leave. He finally left the room and I waited to hear the front door open and close, but it never did. I was admittedly disgruntled to hear him in the kitchen again.

Why was he here?

Even if I asked, he wouldn't answer. He had selective hearing. I rolled my eyes at that, but didn't dare go to sleep. I was tired, granted, but not enough to risk suffering night terrors. Instead, I laid in the bed and stared out the window. Part of me wanted to get up and write about this short incident in my journal, but my whole body felt sore from retching.

I hadn't thought about the fact that eating such a hearty meal after living on occasional fruits and bits of bread would make me ill. Alexion obviously knew about it. I wondered how. Had it happened to someone he knew before, or maybe himself? Asking was out of the question. Alexion's social skills were barely a step above mine and mine wasn't even part of the staircase.

I started to feel my eyelids drift shut, and as soon as they did, they shot back open in alarm. I was going to fall asleep the longer I laid here. I struggled to sit up against the headboard, my whole body aching as I did so.

"Stop moving," Alexion's voice made me look up to see him coming into the room with a small iron tray with some toast and chamomile tea, "You need to rest." I narrowed my eyes at him, but he didn't seem to care as he set the tray on my lap. I frowned at it, picking up a piece of toast to study it before taking a nibble of it. It seemed safe. It only had a light layer of butter on its golden surface. I held the toast with both hands, just taking little bites when I saw Alexion watching me out of the corner of my eye. I stopped eating to look at him and he blinked, like he was snapping out of a trance.

"You eat like a hamster." He said at last. I frowned, looking down at the toast. Yes, I suppose I did eat like a rodent. I had never really noticed it before. I set the toast down and Alexion sighed.

"I wasn't insulting you that time." He pointed out. I didn't answer. I didn't particularly believe him, because I was used to being made fun of. I picked up the tea and took a few deep gulps, breathing a sigh of relief at the way it slid down my throat and sloshed into my stomach, hot and sweet the whole way down. I took a few more gulps and set the cup down for a moment.

The world tilted to the side. I blinked. It tilted again and I held my breath, watching the world around me spin. My vision grew fuzzy and dark around the edges, a sigh escaping my lips as I tilted my head back to look up at Alexion, who stared at me blankly through the haze.

"Go to sleep." He told me, his voice distorted by whatever he'd slipped into my tea. Panic rose in my chest, almost choking me. He was trying to put me to sleep? Was he not killing me? Or was he going to wait until I was asleep? I opened my mouth to try and warn him not to let me sleep, but my tongue suddenly felt numb and the last thing I remembered was falling over on my side, spilling everything on the floor and hearing Alexion curse under his breath.

The darkness of sleep used to be welcoming, warm and comforting.

Now it was cold and unnerving. I felt heavy and stiff in my dream. I hated the sensation. I opened my eyes and found myself laying in the cold black sand outside my house. I was still dreaming, I knew, because my house looked younger. The paint wasn't chipped or peeling yet. It wasn't quite brand new, but definitely not unkept. The garden in front was still dead, a failed attempt at trying to brighten the place up. The waves of Acheron gently licked at the black sandy shore, a light cold breeze blowing in and ruffling my hair and clothes. I swallowed down a lump in my throat, hesitantly taking steps toward the house.

The steps creaked as I made my way to the door. I went to open it, but my hand passed right through it. I stepped right through it and came to stand in the living room. It wasn't dark with busted lightbulbs, layers of dust, and the giant blood stain in the center of the room. It was clean with new lightbulbs, well-kept furniture. It was cozy and warm, so incredibly inviting. The soothing scent of homecooked food wafted through the house. It was the kind of home people enjoyed having on the holidays.

But instead of a loud obnoxious family inside screaming about football or turkey, there was only two people in the house. I drifted to the kitchen, standing at the corner and peeking inside from beneath my hood. Kyros was glazing a chunk of meat, using his other hand to pour tea from a kettle.

Tears choked me, no matter how hard I fought to contain them.

He looked just like he did before he died.

His dark, dark hair lightly frosted at the tips that fell just above his shoulders. His eyes glowing softly in the chandelier above his head. He wasn't wearing his usual white uniform, though. He just wore a white long sleeved shirt and black jeans. There was a light stubble on his face from lack of shaving for the past couple days, but it didn't deter from his handsomeness. I wasn't attracted to Kyros sexually, mind you. But even a fool could see that Kyros was incredibly attractive. He had a swimmer's build, rippling, well-toned muscles.

He was perfect.

He paused his working, then looked over his shoulder and his eyes fell on me, a small smile tracing his lips.

"Charon, why are you hiding back there? I told you the food was ready. Come here." He said, coaxing me with the wave of his hand before he returned to cooking. I swallowed at the lump in my throat and carefully approached him, hand sliding along the counter as I went before I came to a stop beside him, watching him pour gravy over pretty much everything.

Because he knew how much I liked his gravy recipe. Something about it was a salty, warm flavor that felt like liquid pieces of heaven on my tongue.

I wanted to say something, but I didn't trust myself to speak. I already knew how this memory would play out.

It was the birthday I had before everything went to hell with the Labyrinth.  No one really remembered my birthday. I was far too old for it. I probably would've forgotten it too if I didn't wake up every birthday morning to Kyros making me a huge feast. He would make my favorite meals and favorite drinks. Clean the house to a sparkling shine, buy new things for the house, like the lightbulbs, and he would get me presents.

It was just the two of us.

And I savored every waking moment of it. I reached out to touch Kyros, but my hand passed through him and agony swept through me so powerfully that it almost drove me to my knees.

It's a dream. I reminded myself, but that only made it worse. Because only in my dreams was I allowed to see Kyros again. To live through the greatest memories again. I tried to touch Kyros again, but my hand just went through him. He didn't even seem to notice. It was like the dream was on auto-pilot. I choked on tears as I reached out to touch his face, but my hand went through him.

"Charon, I bought you a new journal," Kyros said, unaware of my pain, which was the one difference between dream Kyros and real Kyros, because real Kyros always knew what I was thinking, even without magic, he could read me like an open book, "And some more ink and pencils. I wasn't sure which you wanted to use more since you seem to switch every so often. I grabbed some more books from the Library of Alexandria too as well as a couple of scrolls I figured you would enjoy."

"Kyros, please look at me." I choked, eyes stining with tears. Kyros didn't look at me for a moment and I thought he was going to keep ignoring me. Just like everyone else. Nothing terrified me more than living with the knowledge that Kyros would never look at me.  But then he finally turned to me and smiled.

"Happy birthday, Charon." He leaned forward and touched his lips to my forehead. It was a symbol of endearment, friendship, family. I couldn't fight back the sob in my throat. I went to touch him, and while he could touch me, I couldn't touch him. Frustration caused the sobs to erupt even harder as I went to take his hand, but it went through him as he picked up the tray of meat and flashed me one of his charming smiles.

But image didn't last long. It faded in a glimmer of smoke. I reached out for him again, but as usual, I could touch nothing. I reached up, wiping frantically at my face, looking around nervously as the kitchen began to change. It grew darker and colder. The lights were out and the lightbulbs cracked.

I heard a struggle in the living room, one that I recognized. I didn't want to go into the living room, but my legs moved against my will and carried me to stand in the opening of the kitchen to the living room. I suddenly felter colder, heavier. I felt the god restraints around me, looking down to see the gold ropes glowing as the only source of light.

Save for the open door and windows with the curtains torn down, allowing the light from outside to pour in on the scene of Kyros slashing his sword at Prometheus, who took a big step back and laughed at him.

"You think that puny thing will hurt me? This old and you still don't know who you're up against?" Prometheus laughed. Kyros glared at him, but didn't buy into Prometheus's attempt to anger him. He slashed his sword again, leaving a shadow of blue power in its wake as the blade of his sword cut across Prometheus's chest. Prometheus hissed past clenched teeth, reaching up to clap a hand over the bloody wound. He looked at Kyros in angry bewilderment.

"How did you do that?" He snarled. Kyros narrowed his eyes.

"Get the ropes off him or I'll cut your throat next." He threatened past clenched teeth. Prometheus glared at him for a while, but I saw a flicker of amusement in his eyes. My eyes shot back to Kyros and I caught movement behind him. I didn't have enough time to open my mouth and warn him as Rara appeared behind him, a dagger in her hands that she rammed right into Kyros's back. Kyros choked, dropping his sword instantly.

A scream tore free from my throat and I ran to him, but Hannibal appeared behind me and caught me up around the waist. I writhed and thrashed in his grip, fighting to use power, some power, any power, but the god restraints only tightened on me for the attempt. I watched in agonized horror as Prometheus picked up Kyros's sword and shoved it through his chest as an added measure.

Kyros choked, blood pouring down from his mouth and staining his white uniform along with the blood from the wounds in his chest and back. He sank down to his knees, eyes fluttering. He parted his lips, trying to speak, but only blood splattered out.

Panic and horror rammed hard in my chest as I panted for breath, hot tears staining my cheeks as I screamed.

"Alexion, wake me up! Please, please, wake me up!" I wailed, squeezing my eyes shut to block out the images, that still reminded as if they were eternally imprinted on the insides of my eyelids. I wriggled and screamed, until I felt blankets wrapped around me and someone's hands grabbing at me.

I screamed again and managed the throw the blankets back to see Alexion looking completely stunned. I barely paid him any mind as I managed to throw the blankets off me. I didn't even care that my cloak was gone now. I scrambled out of the bed  and tripped, almost bashing my head into the chair of my desk. Alexion tried to grab me, but I ran out the door, breathing hard and choking against the pain of sobs in my throat.

I didn't want to be near that bed or in that house!

I only stopped for a split second, seeing the giant blood stain in the middle of the room where Kyros's body had been laying. The split second was enough time for me to remember what I had come home to when I returned from the Labyrinth.

In this world, it had been a year.

A whole year Kyros's body had laid there in the middle of the room.

A whole year, no one buried him, no one sent his body onto the river for the flames of eternity to consume his corpse.

I had come home to the decomposing body of the man who'd done everything for me for thousands of years. The only person who looked at me. The only person who remembered my birthday.

Sobs racked me so hard that I nearly tripped on my way out the front door. I almost hit the ground at the bottom of the steps, but managed to recover long enough to stumble onto the shore. I fell to my knees in the black sand, the coarse sharp grains of it biting into my legs. A scream ripped free from my throat, tears burning hot paths down my face. I couldn't contain it anymore.

It hurt so much.

I wanted it all to go away. I didn't care if Alexion ripped my heart out anymore. As long as the pain just stopped, so long as I couldn't feel anything anymore.

I slumped over, hugging myself and letting the sand dig into my forehead as I sobbed into the ground, trying to gain some kind of control over myself, but I simply couldn't. Pain throbbed so harshly in my chest that it was nothing compared to all the other pains I had endured.

It was a thousand times worse than the day Hades came to me after he'd taken over the underworld and informed me that I was his property, that he would call me son, but reminding me that no matter what, I would never truly be his child. It hurt worse than the day Hades introduced me to my brothers, all of whom had raked me with suspicious and disgusted glares that said I was not one of them, and I never would be. It hurt worse than the day I woke up one morning and both my parents had vanished, and since then, I hadn't seen or heard from them, and yet knowing they still existed and simply didn't want me anymore.

It hurt worse than all the times people's gazes passed over me as if I were that piece of unwanted furniture pushed to the corner of the room and covered with a tarp.

At least through all of that there had been one person there to hold his hand out to me and tell me that everything would be okay.

Now there was no one.

I was alone.

For the first time in a thousand years, I was completely and utterly alone.

It didn't matter how much I screamed, because no one would hear me. I could scream in the faces of my brothers and they still would not see me. I could scream at Hades and he still would not see me.

My throat was hoarse, eyes swollen from crying, body weak and aching to the point where I swore I would vomit again, but I was completely empty. I just laid there in the sand, breathing hard against the pain that still throbbed in my chest. My ears buzzed from screaming. All I could hear were the muffled waves of Acheron inching toward me, the hands of the drowning souls reaching out to try and pull me in. I was so tempted.

Nothing could be worse than this pain.

And at least I could go insane if I went in. I preferred insanity over this miserable existence.

I swallowed hard against the pain in my throat, eyes flickering open to look down at the black sand that was wet from the earlier tide. I sniffed back the snot in my nose, breathing out quietly now when I felt a hand on my back. I blinked. It was warm, heavy, and big.

And it suddenly reminded me of who I had in my home.

Alexion.

Shame filled my face as a red blush as I refused to lift my head. I probably looked utterly ridiculous, pathetic, pitiful. Eyes red and swollen, cheeks flushed and tear-stained.

So much for the all powerful Charon that ferried the souls of the dead.

I didn't move as I felt Alexion's hand on my back. I held my breath as his hand shifted a little, almost in a stroking motion, like he was trying to make me feel better. I wasn't stupid, though. Alexion didn't even know me, didn't care for me. He was the one who put me in that deep sleep in the first place, but I couldn't be angry at him for that no matter how hard I tried. He didn't know that putting me to sleep was worse than killing me.

Then confusion settled in. Why didn't he kill me while I was asleep? Had I woken up before he had the chance?

"Why didn't you kill me?" I whispered, still not looking up. He didn't answer me. I didn't expect him to.

"I wanted you to sleep," Alexion said suddenly, making me frown at his response after a few minutes, "You... kind of looked like shit, no offense." No offense was just a silly term people used in hopes that you didn't get angry, not that he needed to use it. I wasn't angry, because I knew he was right. I was doing it on purpose. I would rather deal with hunger pains than the pain in my chest.

"Will you please just answer my questions?" I asked quietly.

Stop ignoring me.

Stop acting like everyone else.

I'm here! I'm right here! Listen to me!

"I don't know how," Alexion muttered at last, making me finally lift my head to look at him, sniffing to make sure I didn't look even worse with snot on my face, "I can't... I can't really remember." I looked at him in confusion, sniffing again. Alexion reached out and wiped the sand off my forehead, making me grimace. I paused to see that he had my cloak draped over one arm. He caught my eyes on it and sighed, unfolding it and pulling it over my shoulders before bringing the hood up to hide my face, just the way I liked it. I peered out at him.

"What do you mean you don't remember?" I asked, confused. Alexion frowned.

"I remember everything else. Up until after I got the fae's blood."

"Blaine. He has a name."

"Okay," Alexion said, annoyed at the interruption, "Blaine. I got his blood, like Ashter wanted. He told me he'd find a way to get me out of my cell if I got him the fae's-- Blaine's blood. I went to where he wanted us to meet and he took the blood, but he handed me over to Prometheus. They were going to rip my heart out and see if it worked in the ritual, but when it didn't, they got pissed and tossed me into the river. I don't remember what happened after that. I just woke up on your bed." I hesitated at that.

Should I believe that? Did I dare risk it?

Why did it matter? Granted, he had no reason to kill me if he wasn't working with Prometheus, but he could decide to kill me anyway. Start with me and start killing off the rest of my brothers so he can continue with his plot to kill Cronus and Zeus. And if he wasn't going to do that...

"Why are you still here?" I asked at last. Alexion stared at me for the longest time, his eyes flickering.

"I'm not sure." He admitted, reaching out to take my hand in his. Chills crept through me as Alexion helped me to my feet. He gave me a quick scan, as if to check to make sure I was all right. Then his eyes met mine.

"I won't try to put you to sleep anymore. I know what it's like to have night terrors. But I think it'd be better if you started eating more." He responded. I didn't know what to say to that. I wanted to know why he was saying these things. I knew he didn't care. Nobody cared. I didn't ask, though. I was feeling hunger pains again and I gave a heavy sigh, looking up at him.

"Did you buy fruit?" I asked. Alexion cocked his head.

"Yeah. I didn't know what you liked. So I bought a bit of everything."

"Apples?"

"Apples."

"I want apples."

"I can get you an apple."

"Okay." I watched Alexion go into the house first. My stomach still clenched and there was something inside me that was a little excited. I hadn't actually invited Alexion to stay here, and he hadn't officially asked either, but there was a silent agreement.

One I hoped I didn't regret.