Chapter Text
Tom relished the respect and fear that washed from warrior and priest alike as he made his way towards the camp's newly gathered treasures. Even the smallest temple of Athena could have hidden gems that his subordinates were too dense to value. Tonight they celebrated yet another victory and claimed a small yet well-fortified temple to the enemy goddess.
Even if it lacked actual troops, his men liked to treat themselves like heroes from epic comedies.
He would need to spend some time to explore all the compounds had to offer, but his men collected everything of clear value together so it could be picked over and doled out to reward the army.
It was expected for Tom to choose an item for himself before any other. Many of his predecessors had a servant select something for them and trusted that their lessers would realize what had the most value, but Tom knew that only he would recognize anything of worth.
When he stepped into the large tent, his attention turned first to the scroll cases stacked on the floor. The guards bowed their heads, but Tom was too eager to find hidden wisdom the Goddess may have gifted to her servants. There were more scrolls than such a small temple should have warranted, and Tom wondered what they had missed about the structure itself.
He had examined half a dozen scrolls when he noticed a delicious smell. It had been in the tent since he entered, but it had taken some time to pull Tom's focus away from his treasured knowledge.
The high priest glanced around as he considered what the distracting scent could have been. His eyes fell on a group of women bound in a corner. They were mostly young acolytes who had been preparing to take their vows to the Goddess by their clothes. Women were often the first spoils to be claimed, though he usually had no interest in them.
Most of the priestesses, including the temple's high priestess, had run in the night before his army had a chance to close around them. His men had slaughtered any male soldiers who hadn't run with them.
As he approached, the group of them quivered and shied away. They kept their eyes on the ground even as he lifted the first's chin. She was a pretty raven-haired girl. His men often laminated that the virgin Goddess claimed the attractive and young. Usually, he cared very little for delights of the flesh.
He leaned in and smelled the girl's neck; the pathetic creature shivered against her will as his nose brushed over a gland. He was an Alpha, and fit to breed with any designation he wished. They would all submit to him in the end. The girl smelled pleasing, and he wasn't surprised to find the mark of a Kappa at the top of her spine.
Athena's priesthood was made primarily of Kappas, whose minds were treasured by the Goddess. They were considered the thinking designation, though he still found himself to have a superior intellect to all he had encountered. He pushed the girl aside as he lost interest; she wasn't the source of the distraction.
His eyes landed next on a small willowy blond as she stared off at nothing, but before he could reach for her, he noticed something about another in the group. She avoided eye contact and working not to draw his attention, but couldn't smell the fear that should have mixed with the others.
After considering her for a long moment, she finally gave in and glared up, meeting his eyes dead-on. He couldn't help but smile at her bold behavior, and he wondered if she was a rare Alpha waiting to join the priesthood.
He grasped a handful of her wild mane by the scalp, but she made no sound, and he pulled her forward as roughly as he could manage. He smelled her gland and frowned as he quickly jerked her away from his nose.
"Why do you smell of vinegar?" He growled as he tried to rub the scent from his nose with his free hand. Her only answer was a deeper glare. He yanked her head forward to see the mark on her spine and show her that there would be no challenges of dominance between them. When he saw the mark of Zeta on the top of her spine, he had to fight the urge to let go and push the girl away.
Zetas were the lowest and dumbest of any destinations. They were good for hard labor and little else. In every city, they were given the worst of the work and were grateful to get even that. Zetas were also the front line of any war, and as the High Priest of the war god, he had had more direct contact with them than an average Alpha.
Something still didn't seem right about the girl. No Zeta he had ever met has such a sharp and acrid scent. She was hiding something, and he would discover it. Following his instinct, he spit on his hand and rubbed it against the girl's destination mark. The black smeared like coal, and he nearly laughed as the sharp lines of Zeta soon curved into a much more valuable and unexpected sign.
The moment she realized what he now knew, she started to thrash like a wild beast in his hold.
"What is a Zeta doing among the acolytes of a goddess of the mind?" Tom asked, and his question made her still. They both knew she wasn't a Zeta, but neither wanted the guards to know what she was, or she might mysteriously disappear before she made it to his tents.
"Make sure the girl bathes herself before she is brought to my tent." He ordered a nearby servant. "She will bathe herself; I want her fresh for my use alone." He repeated so that no one else would discover her true mark. He cared little about the state of her virginity, but it was easy for men to think he would.
They bowed, and he left the girl confused and still glaring after him. He would enjoy breaking the wild thing, even if he had no plans to breed or bond her. He was not a slave to his instincts. When he one day chose to mate a woman, she would have to be something one of a kind.
Hermione looked up as a new man entered the tent. He was dressed as a warrior like all the others. It was the uniform of those dedicated to Ares. His armor showed signs of recent battle but was much more ornate than the guards who watched over them.
Their temple was small, and they had sent runners for help the moment Ares' army had turned in their direction. They had been told that they were small enough to be overlooked by the campaign and that the soldiers of Athena were needed to defend more essential locations.
The moment the man turned in the group's direction, Hermione's stomach sank. She could see he had caught her scent, even under the astringent oils she wore. It had been too long since her last application; it was only a matter of time before someone noticed. Why did it have to be some fancy warrior?
He moved to Cho first, Hermione watched as he rudely smelled her neck and she saw the girl shiver and fight the urge to move closer to her assailant. It meant he was definitely an Alpha. It wasn't in the natures of Kappas or Betas to submit so quickly to each other, and not even an Omega would yield to a Zeta.
Alphas posed the most danger to her, but she fought the warring urges to slink away and draw any more attention to herself to protect the other girls. The man shoved Cho away and turned his attention on the dreamy Luna, and Hermione ground her teeth as her entire body tensed with nerves.
His gaze shifted again, and he looked directly at Hermione. His attention made her uncomfortable; he just watched her for what seemed like forever until she couldn't stop herself from glaring at him in return. His expression changed from curious to predatory.
He grabbed Hermione by the hair and pulled her into his form, smelling her as he had done to Cho. Hermione bit the inside of her cheek so she wouldn't react to his touch. This close, she could smell the Alpha in him, and all her instincts told her to give him whatever he desired. All submitted to the Alpha. It was their role to lead and dominate.
"Why do you smell of vinegar?" He growled and pulled away to try and get the smell of her oil from his head. He wouldn't smell much else for a while, but her fear of the situation kept her from smiling.
He pulled her forward so that her only view was of the pteruges resting between his legs. She bit her lip and hoped her last application of coal and pigment held. No one wanted to touch a Zeta, and the mark mixed with her foal smell should convince the man of what she pretended to be. She felt him jerk as he fought the desire to release her, but something kept his hold tightly on her hair.
When she heard him spit, she was sure she would be released soon. Then he would lose interest, and she could form a plan to get her and the other girls out of the enemy camp. When a wet hand rubbed at her skin, she knew she was lost. She struggled against his hold and tried to push him away.
She didn't want to share the fate of so many of her kind. Hermione ran away to the temple to be valued for her mind and not her designation's supposed purpose.
"What is a Zeta doing among the acolytes of a goddess of the mind?" He asked, making her still her fight in confusion. He knew the truth, why would he still call her that?
"Make sure the girl bathes herself before she is sent to my tent. She will bathe herself; I want her fresh for my use alone." He ordered as if no one would dare question him.
She watched him leave her there with a glare. Who was the man that he felt sure his orders would be followed to the letter? He couldn't have been much older than her, how had he gained any power in this vast Ares army that seemed to only value strength?
It wasn't long before three unarmored servants came to retrieve her for her bath, two women and a man. She struggled as best she could as the women pulled her to her feet and dragged her from the tent. She was not about to make it easy for any of them. They had invaded the only place she had found any sort of peace.
They took her directly to the stream the temple had always used to clean and pushed her into the frigid water fully clothed. The women would not look directly at her or speak even as they were ordered to remove her chiton.
The undyed fabric was ripped from her form and taken so only her unbound hair would cover any part of her body. The male servant watched her with a lewd expression on his rat-like face.
Hermione had become used to men averting their eyes when she passed. Those of the local village always showed anyone from the temple respect as they did not wish to anger the powerful Goddess. But what had protected her before only served to make her more desirable now. Her stomach turned as she found no kindness in any of those around her.
After they were satisfied that she had washed away the protective smell, they dragged her once more through the encampment, this time without the small protection of her clothes. She was still sopping wet as she was pulled into a large tent. The ground was covered in furs, and the area seemed to be a command center with heavy furniture and a large table spread out with maps and figures.
"My Lord, we have the woman you selected from the treasury." The rat-faced man said as he motioned to her in the women's grasp.
It was only then that Hermione's attention went to the people in the room. Three men were stood around the table, one of which was the one that had claimed her.
The other two made striking opposites. Both were tall, imposing figures with long hair. But one looked like a godly creature with a finely sculpted face and long, nearly white straight locks. The other seemed more like something from the underworld with a permanent sneer, gaunt skin, and greasy black hair.
"Ah, my amusement has arrived. We shall finish our plans tomorrow, Lucius. I feel I will be busy tonight." It was then that she realized she had to be in the leader's tent. Only he would have battle plans so close. How was such a young warrior leading the bloodiest campaign of Ares' troops in memory?