Chapter Text
Anaxibia sat quietly as she watched Menelaus play with a small wooden bird. Agamemnon had carved it for him, for his birthday. She remembers how that night when Menelaus was sleeping soundly in his bed, Agamemnon had leaned against the wall next to her and said “Just to keep him busy, nothing more.”
But he had looked so proud when he saw their youngest brother delight in it, that Anaxibia knew he was not so hardened as he acted.
Menelaus still loved the little thing dearly, waving it around and quietly trying to imitate a bird.
He paused when they heard soft footsteps from the hallway, suddenly. He put down the toy as though fearing their father was coming, but father never moved so silently.
It was Agamemnon who appeared in the doorway, frowning.
She sighed, knowing what would be said.
“Father is drinking again, isn't he.”
Agamemnon nodded.
It was always the same of course. Every night, their father would drink himself half to death, and their mother would shrink back from him as he threw harsh words at every target he saw. If they were in the same room as their parents, their mother would look pained as she silently told her children to leave. They would send Menelaus to bed, and Agamemnon would go to some other part of the palace, and Anaxibia would go sit with Menelaus and tell him everything would be alright.
But they were not in the same room tonight so why would Agamemnon tell them?
He sat down heavily next to her, turning his tired gaze on Menelaus.
He finally spoke; saying “I think father intends to come here. No actually, I know. I wouldn't tell you if I didn't know”
Oh.
They would not have peace this night. (They never did.)
Well, there was only one thing to do then. She brushed off her skirt as she stood, and walked lightly towards their little brother. Only six years old, and yet already surrounded by so much fear and bitterness.
He only seemed to notice her when she dropped to a crouch beside him, and gently caught his hand.
“I think it's bed time little brother.”
She said it as nicely as she could, trying to hide her weariness.
It was not a weariness that sleep could drive away, but a weariness that came from constant acting. acting like everything was fine, (it wasn't) acting like a perfect daughter, (she'd never be perfect enough for father) acting like she wasn't lying when she told Menelaus that no, father doesn't hate you, he is simply frustrated (she couldn't even convince herself.)
He looked at her with quiet disappointment at the sudden stop.
“But— but I'm not tired…”
Agamemnon had been right. There were heavy steps, coming closer. They could not stay here.
“You can take Aetós with you, okay?” She asked, picking up both Menelaus, and the bird.
“Okay then. Will you tell me a story too?”
The thought of not doing so was almost startling.
“You know I will, of course.”
✦
She sat on the bed next to Menelaus, watching him run his tiny fingers over the smooth surface of the figure.
Running her own fingers through his hair she continued the story he had asked for.
“And then, little brother, do you know how brave Perseus defeated the terrible Cetus?”
He yawned as he shifted to look at her.
“How did he do it? Tell me!”
She had told him the story before of course, but he always acted as though it were the first time.
“Well, as he fought the beast with all his might, he felt his hand brush against the bag at his side, and realized he did not need a sword, for he had a greater weapon.
Then He pulled out the head of Medusa and turned the monster to stone!”
Menelaus smiled in a way only he could, in these blood soaked walls. “And then he rescued the princess right? And they got married!”
She pushed a strand of his red hair out of his face, kissed his forehead lightly.
“Yes, Menelaus, he did. And then he returned home and he turned the cruel king who had mistreated him and his mother to a statue.”
⋇⋆✦⋆⋇
Ctimene pulled her skirt back slightly from the water that lapped at the little raft. She did not particularly care if it got damp, but she did not want to hear mum’s talk about how she should try to look more presentable.
Odysseus shifted next to her, dropping the makeshift oar at his side, and tapping on the boards impatiently, as though expecting something to suddenly happen. Neither said anything.
The tapping continued.
It was starting to bother her
“Could you stop tapping Ody? It's annoying.”
He turned to face her.
“Well we're not exactly doing anything.”
“Your idea to take the raft out.” She muttered.
She did not intend for him to hear that, but of course, he did.
“True enough, I'll admit….
We could tell stories I suppose?”
Odysseus said it as though it had only just occurred to him to do so, but they told stories every time they took the raft out, always.
Ctimene shook her head, but agreed nonetheless.
Her older brother grinned.
“So, the sirens…” he began.
Always the sea monsters with him, now isn't it.
“What is it with you and sea monsters?”
She asked, voice full of exasperation but not upset. He made the creatures interesting.
Her brother stared out at the horizon then, like he saw some great thing that was invisible to Ctimene’s eyes.
“They're just interesting, I guess.”
Well, good enough then.
“Anyways, you were saying?”
“Well…. The thing I find interesting about the sirens ‘Mene, is that it is not just the song alone that lures you in, but knowledge. They know so much that we don't, and they trap us with it.”
That…. Was indeed enticing. How could anybody resist?
But then, if no one could, how did anyone know about the sirens?
“I have to question how anybody has escaped to tell the tale then.”
She leaned back so far she was almost flat on the boards, staring at the gulls wheeling overhead.
Odysseus leaned back as well now, considering.
“Perhaps they are too foolish to see the value in knowledge?”
“Well, why ever would they not?”
“How should I know? I like to think I am not a fool.”
✦
The sun was setting now, and they were guiding the raft back to shore. They had not gone far of course, but drifted some ways out.
Ctimene leaned forward and pushed some of the water out of the way with her hands, ineffective though she knew it probably would be.
“I imagine you would like to meet the sirens.”
She knew she would.
“Well of course.”
Because what other response could you expect from him?
⋇⋆✦⋆⋇
Myrto rather liked weaving flower crowns, she had found. And she had also found her little brother was perfectly willing to wear them, looking so adorable.
She liked making them for herself as well, so what else would she do on a bright afternoon?
And the flowers were all blooming too. It was perfect really.
She searched for a good flower to become part of the crown, but was interrupted by Patroclus running towards her with something held tight in his little hand.
He skidded to a halt next to her, and held out whatever it was he found for her to see.
It was a rock. Admittedly, it was a pretty rock, looking shiny and smooth, almost like glass.
“For you!”
He sounded so pleased with himself. Over such a small thing as a rock, but that’s how it is with little children, isn't it.
“Thank you.” Her smile was real. It's the intention that shows, truly.
“You're welcome!”
She lifted the incomplete flower crown for him to see.
“Now sit down please, I want to see if this fits.”
“But I think it will?”
She put it down again.
“No… Patroclus, we need to test it first.”
He sat down then, looking serious as though this was a matter of utmost importance.
“It must fit!” He declared.
Myrto laughed a little, and slipped onto his head. It dropped too low, so she lifted it off him and removed a bloom.
Once the crown was fitted, she stood and stepped back to admire her work. A good crown.
Patroclus seemed to be pondering something as intensely as a four year old could, before he grabbed her hand and announced:
“I'm going to show mom and dad!”
And pulled her along with him back to the palace.
✦
Two days later, Patroclus came to Myrto, visibly upset.
“What's wrong?” She asked, holding him close to her. He stepped back and gave her the wilting crown.
“What happened to the flowers?”
“They wilted, that's all. I can make you a new crown if you like.”
“...Okay.”