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Pirithous
Pirithous woke at dawn, the cushions trapping him in their depths. He grunted and rolled free, the drop to the floor banishing the memories of the chair. If that trap had been as soft and pillowed as the couch Thalia had left him to sleep in, it would have been much less a torture to sit in it for...
Millennia.
His stomach twisted into knots. Making the offering to those who had died had cleared his conscience enough to sleep, but not enough to free his future. He sat up, scrubbing his face with his hands. Persephone wanted his prayers, she had said. But surely that could not be everything.
He levered himself up from the floor, his hand sinking up to his wrist into the couch when he leaned on it. First, he supposed, he must understand this world. Persephone had not sent him to this place without reason or Hermes would not have granted his prayer and helped him to steal the language from Thalia’s mind. Perhaps the priests and priestesses would know something of his purpose.
The silence of the house pressed upon him. No servants rushing to dress their ladies. Nikki did not wait on Thalia at all, as far as Pirithous could tell, nor Thalia upon her. There should have been slaves and servants in the kitchen baking bread, or spitting meat for the day’s meal, or stirring porridge.
The room where he had slept had a large hearth, but Thalia had made him go outside to light a fire, and she prepared her food in that metal room, with all its strange knobbed contraptions. It was not even the next room over from the hearth, for one stood between with a long table in the middle. It had the feeling of a megaron, where people would meet for a feast, but it was much too small for anything but a private gathering.
He crossed through it, trailing his fingers over the backs of the chairs, the smooth wood polished until it gleamed, and went into the empty kitchen. Morning sun flashed off all the metal, covering strange cabinets of all sizes. In his own palace, food would have been brought to him, and as a guest of another king, the kitchen slaves would have stuffed him with fresh bread and honey and fruit the moment he appeared in their midst, but here he did not even know how to find food, and the strange flat bread, smothered in cheese Thalia had given him the previous night was nothing he’d recognized. He hoped she would not offer him that offensive black drink again. He’d nearly gagged on the sweetness, so thick in his mouth.
Yellow crescents hung from a hook beneath one of the cabinets, clearly some kind of plant matter. He pulled one free, the outside almost waxy, like a pomegranate, but smooth. Fruit, perhaps. The blade of his knife split the rind without trouble, and he sniffed at the white pulp inside. The aroma overpowered him and he grimaced. It didn’t smell spoiled, just strong and strange. He pinched off a piece of the fruit and tasted it. Oddly creamy in texture, the flavor as full as its scent, so soft he did not need to do more than mash it against the roof of his mouth before swallowing.
He ate slowly, listening for some sign that the women stirred in their rooms. Whatever the fruit was, it eased the edge of his hunger, and while he waited, it seemed he might as well take advantage of Thalia’s hospitality and bathe. When he hadn’t been offered a bath last night, he’d found it odd, and when Thalia had showed him the bathing room, then left him alone inside it, he had realized it was not their custom to do so. He’d had no idea what to do with the strange stool, or all the knobs, and he’d been forced to call to Thalia before she returned to her friend.
It had taken him the rest of the night to realize the small levers on the wall worked to light the lamps that hung from the ceiling and he had spent several moments flipping them up and down, watching the lamp above light and gutter without so much as a wisp of smoke.
Pirithous took great satisfaction in lighting the lamp in the bathing room that morning as he shut the door behind him. The bath was easily recognizable, though he wasn’t sure why it was hidden by a curtain. Drawing it back, he saw the taps Thalia had mentioned. Not identical to those on the sink, but near enough. He twisted them until the water gurgled and then burst out from the wall above his head in a spray like rain.
He jerked back, staring at it for a long moment. Running water wasn’t magic, like the lamp lighting and the metal beast Thalia called a car, which served as their chariot, but he had never seen it used in such a way. Making water flow up before it came down again was a trick he would have liked to understand, and drawing it up from the ground with just a twist of a knob impressed him even more. Surely only the richest of kings could afford such a luxury.
He stripped off his tunic, his arm bands and rings, and the circlet on his forehead, and stepped over the lip of the tub to stand beneath the spray. It fell strangely, each drop a tiny stream of water, seemingly forced. The water warmed and he felt the tension in his shoulders ease.
A dozen bottles stood around the rim of the bath, writing all over them, and Pirithous studied some, picking out the letters from Thalia’s song. A rough stone sat on a higher shelf, built into the wall, and he took it up in place of a sponge. It would do to scrub the filth from his skin, and he didn’t have the patience to search each of the bottles for the right oils.
He scraped the rock over his body, letting the rain wash the dead skin and dirt away as he worked. It would have been much more pleasurable to have Thalia or Nikki to help. He closed his eyes, imagining Thalia’s hands moving over his back, her soft skin slick and slippery against his. His body hardened and he pressed a hand to the tile wall to steady himself. Three thousand years he’d been trapped. Three thousand years without a bedmate of any kind when he once would not have gone even three days. No wonder he lusted for her.
His hand slaked the edge of his hunger, and even that release made him groan with pleasure so close to euphoria he nearly fell to his knees. It would not have mattered if Thalia was a witch, harpy, or siren, then. If she had been naked before him, he would have taken her, consenting or not, and gone back to Hades content.
A knock on the door dragged him back from his thoughts. “Pirithous?”
Thalia. He thanked the gods she had waited until now, and not called for him before he’d finished. He scrubbed his scalp as best as he could with the rock and his fingers, then rinsed his hair beneath the water. He’d have to ask her help to wash it properly soon, but he didn’t trust himself now, even if she would be willing. The knobs twisted easily and the water slowed, then stopped, but for a trickle. He stepped over the edge of the tub and grabbed a towel from the small cabinet.
“Pirithous?” She knocked again.
He wrapped the towel around his waist and pulled the door open.
“Oh.” Thalia bit her lip, her eyes on his chest. A surge of desire rolled off her, and his body responded before he could think to stop it. Then he didn’t want to stop it, his own lust bleeding into hers, feeding it. The flame of emotion leapt into a bonfire and she stepped forward, reaching for him.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice told him to stop, but he already had her in his arms, her mouth eager for his, her body soft as honeycomb, melting against him. Her hands slid over his skin, cool on his ribs. She kissed him back, demanding more, pulling him closer. Her kiss made him ache for her body and he sought the bare skin of her waist with his hands, beneath her tunic.
“Thalia!”
She stiffened in his arms, the jerk of her thoughts back to reason like a bucket of cold water dumped over his head. He turned his face away and released her, but she gripped his arm as she stepped back, her whole body trembling. Nikki stood staring at them, her lips pressed together and her arms crossed over her chest.
“What are you doing?” Nikki demanded.
Thalia swallowed, her hand going to her mouth, fingers brushing over her lips. His body lurched, remembering too well the softness, the heat in her kiss. He wanted her beneath him. He wanted to make her gasp as he buried himself inside her, and then hear her moan with pleasure.
“Nothing,” Thalia said weakly, and then she slipped around Nikki, moving as though in a daze. “I think we have some sausage in the freezer still, for breakfast...”
Nikki glared at him before following her friend, and Pirithous was left behind, even more frustrated than when he’d started.
Next time, he told himself firmly, he would leave well enough alone.
***
HE TOOK MORE TIME THAN he needed to dry himself off and dress. Thalia, it seemed, had brought him a clean tunic and more of her short trousers, all abandoned on the floor when he’d opened the door and pulled her into his arms. The yellow tunic fit snugly across his shoulders, but it served as long as he did not need to fight. The short trousers would offer him no trouble though, leaving his movement free, and in Thalia’s company he could manage to keep himself from drawing his sword for one day.
When Pirithous finally rejoined the women in the kitchen, they fell abruptly silent. Nikki gave him a dark look and took her plate and her cup with her as she rose from the small table in the corner. Thalia watched her friend go, then shook her head and smiled at him.
“You found the clothes.”
“Mm.” He waited until Nikki’s door shut before answering. “Thank you. It will do until my tunic is washed.”
“Nikki thinks I’m a fool for taking you in. She says you’re probably just some con man, or something, trying to take advantage of me.”
He didn’t have to understand the words to catch her meaning by the way her eyes flicked away from his, fingers fussing with her table knife.
“I do not mean you any harm, Thalia. If my presence here will bring you trouble, I will go.”
“You said yourself you don’t have anywhere to go.”
He smiled, covering her hand on the table. She stilled at his touch, though he could not be certain if it was from discomfort or pleasure. “The forest will give me everything I need to survive. I can build myself a shelter or find a cave, now that the sun has risen. All I would need from you is some rope for snares, perhaps a bow and arrows, though I can make those too if need be. Are there wolves in these woods?”
“No, but there are bears. This is ridiculous, Pirithous! You can’t just live in the woods.”
“Why not?”
“What happens if you got hurt, or a bear attacked you, or something happened?”
“Then I would heal, or if I did not, I would die. It matters little, either way.”
“It matters to me.”
He caressed her fingers with his thumb. “You have been very kind to me, Thalia, and if there were some way I could repay you for it, I would. But other than my sword arm and the strength of my blood, I have—” he stopped himself. It was not true that he had nothing. He had the cuffs on his arms and the circlet on his head, meaningless now, with his people dead. His hand went to one of the cuffs, gold as pure and as rich as any. He twisted it loose, then pulled it off, and laid it on the table. “I can offer you this, as gift and payment.”
She shook her head, not even touching it. “I can’t accept that.”
“Where I come from, it is grave insult to refuse a gift. Most especially to refuse a gift from a king. It means you refuse my friendship and plan to make war upon my people.”
She chewed on her lip, her fingers tracing the edge of the band. “You could sell it. If it’s gold, it would be worth a lot of money.”
“It is yours now, to do with as you please.”
“If I accept it, what does it mean?”
“That we are friends and allies. That you will not make war upon me or mine.” He pressed his lips together. She did not seem to understand guest-friendship at all. Certainly Nikki didn’t, if she whispered that he would take advantage of her hospitality. Such a thing was sacred to the gods and he had angered them enough. “Among my people, this friendship has its own obligations. Were you to come to my lands while I was king, I must give you shelter, food, clothing, servants to see to your needs until you departed again. If you went to war, no matter the cause, I would be honor bound not to side with your enemy, or attack your lands in your absence.”
She met his eyes then, her expression serious. “Then if I take this, I have to let you stay as a guest? And you can’t hurt me or do me any harm, or help anyone else harm me?”
“I will not stay where I am not wanted, even if these customs were your own. Tell me to go, and I will leave at once. You would remain safe from me, regardless.”
“But if I were one of your people. I would be obligated to keep you under my roof for as long as you needed a place to stay?”
“Yes.”
She slipped the band over her hand and up her arm. “Then I accept your friendship and your gift, King Pirithous. And I will be horribly insulted if you refuse my hospitality to go live in the forest.”
He laughed, surprised and pleased with how quickly she understood. “You leave me with little choice, then.”
“I’m glad.” She smiled. “Then today we’ll go get you some clothes that fit properly and Nikki can shove it.”
“Shove it?”
Thalia flushed. “Never mind. Um. I didn’t get a chance to ask her about Helen of Troy, yet, and I’m not sure she’ll be helpful now anyway, after um. After this morning. She thinks I’m being impulsive and careless and ‘what do you even know about him?’ But we can google it, if you like?”
His lips twitched at the way she mimicked Nikki’s tone so perfectly. “What is google?”
“Searching the internet? Don’t you have google in Thessaly?”
His good humor faded. “I fear we are very backwards there, from the way you live here in New York.”
“But you must have heard of it at least? Everyone has the internet now. Or did you live somewhere without even telephones?” His confusion must have shown in his face, because Thalia’s forehead creased. “No telephones either? Television? Electricity?”
He shook his head, watching her expression. Even to his own ears, he was beginning to think his story sounded thin, truth or not. He would have to tell her soon. About the chair and the years in Hades. And he would have to hope she did not think him cursed.
“No wonder I’ve never heard of you. What are your people called again?”
“The Lapiths. We are not a large tribe. We are like—” he grasped for something she might understand, but not knowing her country, all he could think of were Achaeans. Still, if she knew of Menelaus, perhaps she would know of others too. He grimaced at the comparison that came first to his mind. “We are like the Myrmidons, if you know of them. In Thessaly, we are not like the Atticans. We had no Theseus to unite us, and even if he had come to make peace for us in the north, we would have scorned him.”
“It sounds like a very strange place.”
“To you, it would be. With all your metal, and glass windows, and your google.” He forced himself to smile, though all he could think of was how primitive his people would seem to her. The Lapiths did not even forge their own iron, and his palace was not so grand as this for all it was larger. “But we were happy. Content. Surely that counts for something.”
Thalia opened her mouth to respond, but Nikki’s bedroom door opened and shut with a slam. Instead she pushed a platter toward him with bread and butter, and some kind of meat carved into pieces the length and size of one his fingers. He picked up one of the round pieces and smelled it, frowning. There was something odd about the scent, almost like bronze, and sickly sweet.
“It’s just sausage,” Thalia murmured. “It isn’t going to bite you back or anything.”
The moment the sausage hit his tongue, he wished he’d chosen the bread instead. The sweetness was unbearable, and strangely fruity. He swallowed it as quickly as he could, half choking himself on the meat before it went down. He coughed and Thalia pressed a hand over her mouth to smother a laugh.
He was beginning to think he would be better off hunting in the woods with nothing but his knife than eating the food she set in front of him. Everything she’d given him was sweeter than honey, and even that he had only cared for in small amounts, drizzled on bread or nuts, or used to crisp the skin of some kind of meat while it turned over the spit.
“I’m going into town, Thalia,” Nikki shouted from somewhere near the door. “Call me if you need anything.”
“Okay,” she said, still grinning.
“That is not sausage,” he grumbled, when the door shut and they were alone again. “Pass me that bread.”