Page 83 of Axios
As much as I had fought Spartan values through the years, I could not escape them now, and they filled my every waking thought.
Almost my every thought… Eryx took control of some as well.
He and I had joined our bodies countless times since our return months ago—by our stream, in the barracks, in the courtyard, and even out in the meadow at night so that we might lie beneath the stars.
But once our urges were appeased and our bodies sated, I could not stop the guilt from flooding my mind again.
“What is it that troubles you?” Eryx asked, his breath tickling the underside of my arm as he lay at my side. We had just finished making love for the third time that day and were lying in the field outside our quarters with our cloaks wrapped around us to keep warm. Soon, we’d have to go inside to escape the biting cold, but for the moment, we enjoyed the privacy. “And do not lie to me, Ax. I see the distant look in your eyes.”
“Does it bother you that we were sent away from war?” I moved my head to see him.
He raised his eyebrows, clearly not having expected my question.
“Yes,” he answered, resting his cheek on my bicep. “We were provided a mission and did not complete it before leaving. It eats away at me like a festering wound refusing to heal.”
“It does me as well,” I spoke, trailing my gaze from him to the stars. They appeared so much clearer during winter, as if the haze of summer had been swept away by the autumn winds. “While I am not fond of warfare, I feel it is my duty as a Spartan to fight when it is asked of us. And yet, here we are, protected by the borders of home when we should be joining our army on the battlefield."
His fingertips glided along my jaw. “There is my warrior.”
Unsure of his meaning, I regarded him with confusion.
“Do you recall the words I spoke to you so long ago?” he asked, still touching my jaw. “A true warrior fights for what’s in his heart. Do you remember?”
I nodded.
It had been after our clothes were taken and our hair shaved for the first time. I had felt weak and unworthy of my father’s name as we’d walked through the marsh, pulling soft reeds for our bedding.
Leaning forward, he pressed his mouth to mine before laying his head back down. Our gazes locked.
“Neither strength nor speed makes a warrior, for any man can train and excel in such skills,” he continued. The statement reminded me of one I had made before too, but never in reference to myself. “No, atruewarrior goes into battle—not to slay the enemy because they enjoy bloodshed—but because they are protecting all that they hold sacred. That is you, Axios. You are grounded and brave. Stronger than you believe you are—not just in a physical nature but strength of spirit.”
Not knowing how to respond, I sat in silence. He saw me in such a rare light. I did not consider myself anything more than what I was: just a man with average abilities who had struggled with the soldier’s life more than any others.
“I do not see what you see,” I spoke at last. “The man you speak of is a stranger to me.”
“We never see ourselves how others see us,” he responded. “But that does not make them wrong.”
Those talks with Eryx never ceased to amaze me, and I always took something valuable from them. Perspectives differed depending on the person witnessing the act. Perhaps I only viewed myself as a mediocre warrior because of my past doubt and conflicting moral compass, but to Eryx, he saw beneath the surface and clung onto something deep inside that I could not perceive.
I wondered if it was the same for him. I saw him as a god, a man to be feared by all, but one I loved above all others. Did he see himself differently?
No, I thought, answering my unspoken question. He was too confidant and excelled too easily.
Then I recalled the evening before we left for war, how skittish he was about going to battle and how he feared failure, and I realized he probably had his doubts as well.
“Let us go inside,” I said, believing the cold to be unbearable. It cut like a knife through my flesh and seeped into my bones, even with his body warming mine.
When we entered our barracks, all was quiet in the room. But as we made our way to our bed, a low murmuring reached my ears. Once laid down, I looked toward the direction of the sound and saw it was coming from Quill and Theon.
They were huddled together, their bodies almost undetectable from the dark, but as my eyes adjusted, I made out their forms. Small lumps under their cloaks. Although I could not decipher their words, the tone of voice used led me to believe they were quarrelling.
One of them shuffled and moved away from the other, putting an arm’s length distance between them.
Before I could think too much into it, Eryx distracted my questioning mind by pulling me against his warm body. Even though muscled and perfectly chiseled in the way of ideal Spartan beauty, his chest was still soft beneath my head, and I relaxed into him, not realizing how tired I had been until snuggled against him in that way.
He kissed my forehead, such a simple action, but one that made me feel cherished. Beloved and treasured in a life that called for brutality.
And then I welcomed sleep.
