Paramythi III: Prometheus

“Do you remember the day I joined up?” Enzo’s voice was quiet under the dim lights strewn across their shared cells. His head rest against the gritty brick wall and his eyes turned to the flickering candles promoting darkness across his fellow companions. “You guys were training on the Base’s roof.”

“Theo and me,” Reidonn said, hunkered down in the cell beside Enzo. Her back was to the iron bars enclosed around them, leaving only her eyepatch visible whenever she shifted. “I would have won the sparring match if Tovi hadn’t jumped me.”

Neoma’s laugh was soft from her corner of the cell. “No amount of cheering could have stopped Tovi from making his sneak attack. I really had high hopes for you, Reidonn.”

Reidonn muttered a thanks, shuffling her weight to one arm as she turned to face Enzo’s grubby face. “You were all banged up when Quincy introduced you to us. You never did tell us what happened.”

“Yeah,” Neoma agreed. When she rolled her head against the wall to face the man, dirt and grime stuck to her spiky blonde hair. “I checked you over and everything. You had some super deep gashes and heavy bruises. Didja come across a bandit camp on your way over from Nemea?”

“Nope.” Enzo bent one knee to his chest, lazily draping his arm across. He took a moment, pondering a more substantial reply. He shrugged. “Nemea’s full of violent houses. Mine was just as violent as the next.”

“Your step-dad tried to buy my father’s land, didn’t he?” Neoma said.

“Yup. He tried to buy everything from everyone.”

Reidonn scoffed. “Doesn’t sound much different from Capitol.”

The trio continued their conversation, dismissing the nerves they shared among themselves as Merine Trezla decided their fate. Kane had been whisked away before anyone could register what had happened. Capitol bodyguards swarmed the area and the rest fell into the darkness of these cells.

No-one had shown themselves to commence any kind of torture methods on Kane’s remaining men. It left them with a constant wonder, always darting their eyes towards the door. The latch had not lifted since they were tossed into the damp prison. Their only company would be the dripping in the distance from something broken and the sounds of their tired voices.

Hours passed before madness began to peak. Then the door opened. The three stood to face their opponents but the darkness shielding their foe was too great and their heads were too cloudy to focus.

“Come out,” Enzo spoke first. His hands clasped the irons bars to his cell, pulling himself close with an audible strain of metal from the door. “Coward.”

“You can be so mean, Vincent.” The voice in the shadows was a familiar one. The light lilt, the break of puberty. “Or were you expecting an adult?”

Neoma punched the air with triumph. “Hell yeah, Kaira!”

“Shaddup!” Kaira hissed. She moved swiftly, kneeling against Enzo’s cell door. “Do you want us all to get caught?”

“But, how the heck did you even get in here?” Enzo grit his teeth and knelt to meet Kaira’s eyes. “The whole place is swarming with guards and infected Moon-Graced.”

“Trezla’s got a massive party going on in the city tonight. Most of their manpower is over in the Grand Hall, this place had three guards,” Kaira commented, picking the lock with the bent tip of her hair pin. The lock popped open and the door swung with a low groan. “Managed to slip past them all, just like I did in the Rebellion to join Junior R. Just like I did to leave Junior R and save you guys.”

When Enzo stepped over the threshold, his arms swooped down and pulled Kaira close. “I was a total idiot to ever put you down for your age.”

“I always believed in you, Kaira.” Neoma laughed, patting the girl’s back. “Let’s go save the captain!”

“Let’s save the city.” Reidonn slouched against her cell, patient as Kaira pried herself from Enzo’s embrace to unpick the lock. “Or what’s left of it, at least.”

The Grand Hall was warm in comparison to the pale, cold world outside. Glittering spots of gold and orange filtered the massive room; every masterpiece’s reflection bouncing off glasses of wine and silverware.

Merine had gone all out on choice of décor and presentation. He had collaborated with Leto after she sold Helios to Remiel, a deal she would not dare turn down on account of her fondness for the head on her shoulders. She had come into possession of the Grand Hall after her scheming propositions had been recognised by the owner before her.

Merine explained the boost of popularity the Hall would receive if Leto allowed him usage of its interior to throw this celebrational dinner. She had laughed in return and proceeded to dress her best dancers and send them over to wait on Merine’s guests and serve them wine.

Invitations had been strewn across Galaxis and landed in the hands of Anima and Riyo. Hermes had found the invitation between the borders and had presented it to his companions. It was the perfect excuse to duck into Capitol without recognition.

Hermes had led the group into Tentrail’s abandoned border, sneaking them into one of the abandoned buildings. They devised a plan and split up, keeping to Tentrail whilst Anima and Riyo snuck into Capitol to join the party.

Riyo felt safer without the hanging golden wings dragging from their back. Since Anima’s sealing spell, Sytry had been cast away and his wings had blown to nothing but feathers in the ruins of Theia. Their disguises were a double saviour and Riyo could walk through the crowds without so much as a glance from the guards.

Anima was quiet as she strode. Her attire was made up of golden colours and red lace. Her blouse was black, tied together at the chest plate by golden ribbons. The skirt adorning her hips was red, split at the side to expose the black leggings stopping just below her knees. Her mask was strapped to her head like a headpiece; the mask itself settled against the back of her head where it held her braided hair together in a bun.

Riyo was less flamboyant and had chosen to wear a masquerade piece to hide their face. Their white hair was tied, like the fashion Twyla used to wear it – held up by hair sticks with crystals hanging from the tips. A long, tailor-coat dangled around their body, covering the disgraceful attire Sytry preferred. Black and gold pieces of fabric clung to their body beneath the raven-feathered coat.

“Peitho is quite skilled in the art of sewing,” Anima commented lowly. She examined the loose, golden cuffs tickling her wrists and made a fist. “I only wish we could have snuck our weapons in.”

“Don’t say that out loud, idiot.” Riyo grumbled, turning their eyes down as they passed the guards. With the size of the crowd, they were able to slip in without being questioned for their names. Riyo could have laughed. “Just get in, do what you need to do, and so will I.”

“We’ll rendezvous with Hermes and the others at dawn.”

Riyo said nothing as they parted ways with Anima and ducked through the dancing groups and couples. They hated the sounds of laughter and babbling conversation flitting through the massive room. It annoyed them because Capitol was fake. Everything here was fake.

The buffet stand beckoned them, and they tiptoed their way towards the long table and snuck a handful of cherries. Sharp teeth worked their way around the hard pip in the centre and they spat the stone back into an empty wineglass.

A woman in the near distance scoffed at such a sight and turned away, fanning her face to hide the look of disgust. Riyo sneered in her direction and poked their red tongue out until she gasped and stormed away, heels clicking audibly.

Turning back to their meal, Riyo hissed. Their reflection wobbled against the surface of the large bowl of juice and Sytry’s face blew a kiss. Riyo dropped their cherries and stepped away from the buffet, cheeks flaring. They had to cover their face with their hands as they moved through the crowd, attempting to disguise their black veins and white eyes.

It had been the aroma of rosemary and candles that stopped them from running away. The smell filled their senses and put an ease on their shoulders. It had been the laughter that made their heart soar, hands fall to their side, and Riyo finally turned to look as Helios acted out his role.

Dressed in glitter and gemstones, with nothing to keep his skin hidden other than the airy trousers hanging around his hips, Helios passed glasses of wine to guests and made small talk when they stared too long. White tattoos peaked around his thick biceps and his scarred back was coated in gold and red glitter to disguise the markings underneath. Jewellery jingled, golden bangles and crystal earrings shone – even the hopped piercings in his nipples were gleaming under the light. It hurt to stare because he looked so natural. It hurt because it was fake.

“I hope you enjoy the party!” Helios beamed, flashing sharp canines past his golden lipstick.

The guests surrounding him soon departed and went to fetch more samples and foods from the other Faeman darting around. Helios’ smile deadened when he was freed. The slack in his posture nearly rendered the silver tray in his hand to the floor but he froze, fingers tightening.

Riyo felt their heart jump into their throat. Despite the numbers mingling around them, they felt only Helios across the dancefloor. The silver tray hitting the floor was enough to snap Riyo’s attention and they blinked, Helios mere inches from them. The space was soon closed as Riyo stepped forward and pressed their masked cheek against Helios’ toned chest.

“What are you doing here, Ri?” Helios whispered, coiling his arms around Riyo’s waist. No-one looked their way; far too swamped with their pride to even care. “It’s too dangerous.”

“Came to get you.” Riyo’s voice was muffled by the pressure of their cheek. “We’re leaving at dawn, Selene and Damara are in Tentrail.”

“Really? Selene’s here?” Helios’s voice dropped to a whisper, breathless and excited as he lifted Riyo into his arms and swung them around. This time, a handful of people did turn their heads. “…I’m so happy you’re okay.”

“Ditto.” Riyo murmured, draping their arms over Helios’ shoulders. Gold and red glitter stuck to the fabric of their feathered coat. They did not care. “I’m so sorry for leaving you… again.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it.” Helios lowered Riyo back to the ground and pulled his trademark grin, hands never leaving their hips from beneath their dark coat. “What’s up with Psykhe? She’s got some freaky powers going on, huh? Guess Magick really does run in the Trezla family.”

“She’s been obsessing over some new identity.”

“Right, like no-one else has been doing that lately.”

“Listen, it’s different with me. I’m actually a host, I don’t claim to be anyone else.”

“Good,” Helios laughed. It was far less enthusiastic as the one he had put on earlier. This was real. “I really like the real you, after all.”

“Shut up.” Riyo mumbled.

Helios pressed his forehead against Riyo’s, falling into the rhythm of the music as they swayed together. They were close, able to feel each other’s heartbeat and the warmth of their bodies. Chatter and laughter dissipated. There was nothing in their way but the music and the feeling. No-one stopped them, either. Sure, they cast their looks of disgust and unamused comments would be passed between groups, but there was nothing that could physically pry the two apart.

Dancing with Faeman in a Grand Hall was common. Most would simply turn to a Faeman as a dancing partner because they could not find anyone to dance with. It was meant to be a last-minute choice and no real emotion or bond was usually expressed. It was nothing more than a mere façade; a greedy way of fitting in with the crowd.

But here, with Riyo and Helios, it was not a façade. Everyone could feel it. They were not fake. They were real.

Anima had moved among the wave of people swiftly. She had a middle-aged gentleman tail her for a collection of minutes before she ducked the corner and lost him in a group of snooty nobles. Her tired feet carried her down the staircase and out through the back exit of the building. She trusted in Riyo’s abilities to care for themselves, and if Sytry needed to surface once again, Anima would happily release the spell with a snap of her fingers.

Dancing among politicians had not been her to-do list. She had snuck into the city for a completely different reason. The mission to save Helios Artemis was not hers to complete. Her mission lay in the building atop the large marble staircase; the Bank.

The Grand Hall was bright and glittering. The Bank was dark and damp. It was cold in the city and there was no light to guide her through the ruin of abandoned cars and crumpled tarps, wood and just about whatever else Capitol had been made of.

The soles of her golden shoes tapped against the thick lining of the staircase carpet. Little to no noise escaped as she moved, practically floating over the top and into the Bank’s entrance. There were no guards to stop her and the door was open, swinging slightly against the wind creeping around the dead kingdom.

Anima had braced herself for the worst. She held herself tight, tensing when she moved across the threshold and ducked into the foyer. The room was large and dark. Part of the roof had been blown off, allowing streams of grey light to beam down across the lonesome throne where Remiel sat, wasting away.

Moving in the shadows, Anima readjusted her mask and covered her freckled face; peering through the eye-slits as she approached the God of Wrath. The closer she got, the lower her guard dropped.

Remiel was slouched against the inky structure of his so-called throne. His veil was enclosed around his eyes and his lips were parted, leaving shallow breaths to escape. His chest rose and fell, leaving every angle of his host’s bony body to move beneath the thin layer of pale skin holding his skeleton together.

Anima could not tell if he was asleep or daydreaming; but he was certainly unaware of her presence. He did not move nor shift. His arm stayed bent, chin resting against his open palm. He tended to lean to the right – Anima had noticed it in Theia. Bad posture from wasting away in his throne these past two years. He was nothing more than a corpse and Anima was ready to put him six feet under.

Snapping her fingers, she summoned a knife. It was a gold-plated weapon, shining brilliantly even in the darkness. The blade reflected Remiel’s host, the boy trapped inside his own corpse. It made Anima tense, halting the motion of bringing the knife across the exposed, pale throat bobbing with every drawn-out breath.

“I thought I saw you in the crowd,” a man’s voice bounced off the walls, rattling the nerves racing up Anima’s spine. “I just had to follow you… just to make sure.”

Anima moved slowly, raising her knife above her head. She turned her eyes to the blade, noting the man’s reflection. It had been the same gentleman tailing her from the party.

“Who would have thought our sibling reunion would be spent at the foot of Remiel’s throne?” Merine Trezla laughed. “Just where have you been hiding all this time, Psykhe? And why, oh why, are you wearing the mask of our ancestor?”

“I know not who you are,” Anima turned to face the man, biting the inside of her cheek when he raised a gun. “I have not come to do harm to your party. I have simply come to stop history from repeating itself.”

“Minerva Anima Eros wrote the history books of our land.” Merine shook his head. “You were always a great reader, Psykhe. But you never did learn anything, did you?”

“I am not Psykhe Trezla.”

“Yes, you are.”

There was no silence. There was only the sound of a gunshot.

Dawn would come and they would have to leave the pleasantries of each other’s company to finish a war that started years ago. For now, they would dance until the music stopped, until Riyo could barely stand and Helios effortlessly carried them away from the ballroom.

Eyes would glance their way, speeches and assumptions made among one another as the party came to an end and only the most greedy nobles were left behind to awe over the Grand Hall’s décor and devise plans with each other. It was nothing worth Helios and Riyo’s time.

Rooms had been decked out upstairs by Leto’s foresight. She wished to take over the Grand Hall as her new base of operation, but Helios found his attention wandering whenever the woman began sharing her newfound ideas. He was thankful for somewhere to stay and would leave his gratitude unsaid as he propped Riyo upon the window sill and kicked the door shut behind him.

“It gets pretty cold here at night,” Helios stretched his arms above his head and climbed onto the double bed to rearrange the pillows and fluff out the blankets. “Remiel just makes everything super depressing.”

“I really don’t wanna talk about Remiel.” Riyo cracked an awkward smile and fumbled with their shoes, unstrapping the endless buckles and laces. “I wanna know what you’ve been up to, like… when did you exactly get those tattoos and piercings?”

Helios laughed, bouncing off the bed. “Hey, what makes you think they weren’t on me the whole time?” He puckered his lips and knelt in front of Riyo, taking over the task of removing their shoes for them.

“I think I would know, pretty boy.” Riyo sneered, brows furrowing as Helios tugged their shoes off. “…I really don’t like it when you do that.”

“Do what?” Helios absentmindedly placed their shoes aside and ran his long fingers across Riyo’s calf, messaging the stiff muscles.

“When you kneel in front of me.” Riyo shifted against the window sill. They hated how good Helios was at calming them down. “We’re equals, Helios. Don’t ever put yourself down for me.”

Helios grinned. “Come on, Ri. I’m just doing a little therapy sesh here. Honestly not putting myself down for you. You’re not that special.”

“Yeah, right.” Riyo leant forward and hooked their forefinger and thumb around Helios’ chin, turning his head upward. They studied his jaw, nose and eyelids for a collection of seconds before sighing. “I think I love you, Helios Artemis.”

Helios moved fluidly, pulling himself up to meet Riyo’s eye level. “Well, I know I love you, Riyo Midas.”

Riyo wrinkled their nose. “I really want a name I can be happy with,” the shallow grunt left their lips as they reached up to lace their arms around Helios’ neck once again. “Maybe… after this, you can help me change it?”

Helios nuzzled against Riyo’s cheek. “Are you proposing to me, Ri?”

Riyo could feel the Faeman’s smile against their skin and closed their eyes when their mask was pulled off. They did not say anything whilst Helios busied himself with tugging Riyo’s coat down, letting it slide to their hips upon the window sill. It really was cold here at night in Emvolo, the dead city under Remiel’s reign.

“How the hell do you stay warm?” Riyo mumbled, running their fingers across their shoulders. “You’re practically naked and you haven’t even shivered.”

Helios laughed. “One of my many wonders as a Faeman. Tough skin makes for warm bodies!” He cheered, scooping Riyo up from the window sill and over to the bed. “…hey, you’re not gonna turn into Sytry or anything, right?”

Riyo snorted and flopped back against the thick mattress. “Nope. Psykhe’s super powers sealed Sytry away for the time being. She even got rid of his wings, so that’s less of a pain.” They stretched their arms above their head and tugged the hair sticks free. White locks spilled down their cheeks and across the comforter below. “Why? You’re not gonna do anything to disappoint the God of Lust and Pleasure, are you?”

Helios laughed harder than he intended. It was a blurt of sound and his cheeks flushed beneath his make-up. “What kind of man do you take me for, Ri?” He crawled up onto the mattress, laying above the half-breed. “I’m just an innocent dude wanting to cuddle up with his betrothed!”

“So, you’re accepting my proposal?” Riyo’s lips drew back in a wicked smile and they reached out, running their hands through the soft tufts of hair framing Helios’ face. He was beautiful. Too good for Leto Dionysus. Their smile dissipated. “Has that woman made you do anything against your will?”

“Hm?” Helios’ half-lidded eyes widened. “Oh, well, she tried, but I totally shot her down. I got a little punishment for it, but it’s okay now.”

“What did she do?” Riyo sat up, shuffling back against the headboard. Their eyes shifted and their cheeks flared. “What did she do to you, Helios?”

“Ah, man…” Helios looked at a loss for words. He pushed himself back and sat with his hands hanging loosely against his lap. “See, she kinda, well – amputated my legs and replaced them with these weird artificial ones? It was a huge pain at first, like I couldn’t really leave the theatre without my new legs giving up on me. But then Remiel kinda brought me off Leto and now my legs are free-?”

Riyo reached out, touching Helios’ thigh and ultimately stopping him mid-sentence. They squeezed through the fabric of his trousers and visibly winced when their palm cooled at the touch of metal through the clothing.

“Yeah, I can’t really feel anything below the waist.” Helios rubbed the back of his head, raining glitter against the mattress with every move he made. “Actually, that’s a lie, I mean… obviously I can still feel something, y’know, in the groin area. Leto is a total pervert that way. But, man, am I glad she didn’t amputate everything below the waist—”

“Helios.” Riyo’s stopped the Faeman a second time.

Their eyes had glimmered to their fluorescent blue as they leant forward and finally pressed their lips against Helios’. It was the second kiss they every shared within the time of two years and Riyo was still as bad as the first time while Helios showed off his experience almost too well.

Helios’ hands went to Riyo’s hair when the half-breed moved their hand up his thigh, testing the sensitivity he claimed to still have. It never seemed to occur to either of them that they were indulging in extremely intimate activities when their heads were on the line. All guards were down, and clothes were swiftly discarded. Helios seemed to take the lead, murmuring reassurance whenever Riyo froze.

When Riyo shoved Helios against the mattress and straddled his waist, Helios laughed. His hands landed upon Riyo’s hips, running slow circles against their fleshy skin with his thumbs. He stared up at Riyo’s face, counting the flared veins running across their cheeks and neck. Allawo were dominant creatures by nature and Faeman were submissive. Helios just found it endearing.

“Y’know… I read about Allawo and stuff when we were in training,” Helios licked his lips. His throat turned dry, his head was thumping. “You can like, choose either when you’re in the mood, right?”

Riyo’s laugh was enchanting; echoing an overlapping voice. “Whatever you want,” when they tipped their head, white hair spilled across their chest. Without anything to flaunt, they were nothing more than a doll perched atop Helios’ toned stomach. “Just, take it easy, okay? I’ve never really done this before.”

Helios shuffled, propping himself up on one elbow whilst his free hand went to Riyo’s cheek. “Equals, right?” His grin appeared and Riyo relaxed. “It’s just about us tonight.”