Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Late into the night, Deimos was pulled to a meeting by the Ghost of Kosmos. “Go, destroy the Spartan forces in Artemisa Fort on Kos. You will be greatly rewarded if you return successfully.” Without a second thought, Deimos left the Cult’s cave in Delphi, grabbed a horse, and headed for the docks where a ship waited for him.

“I hate sailing,” Deimos thought to himself, sitting on one of the benches behind the commander of the ship. The male’s armor caught the light, the gold almost radiating the light that hit it to make the demi-god seem even more godly. He could tell that some of the crew feared him, and it was right for them to do so; after all, he did kill a man without a second thought for betraying the Cult and exposing one of their links to the war.
People who hear of the god-like Deimos fear his presence more than if Zeus would take form in front of them, Deimos would strike down anyone in seconds.

When the ship docked on the island of Kos, Deimos stepped off to go find the Fore he was told to wipe out. “Kill every guard in the Fort - they are a priority - prisoners, slaves, workers, and innocents are to your disposal. Remember, you will be rewarded for your success,” the Ghost’s words echoed in Deimos’ mind as he neared Artemisa Fort. Of course, he could sneak and be smart about his approach to killing the guards, but where is the fun in that? He strode into the front gates, killing the first five guards with the Sword of Damokles without flinching or being touched. Going further into the Fort became tougher for him, having to fight the guards around him then.

After clearing out the fort, Deimos searched the rooms while collecting the gold pouches, weapons, and supplies before entering the Polemarch’s quarters. Having killed the Polemarch earlier, he opened the door with no issue and walked straight to the large Nation chest in the back room. What he did not expect to find was a female chained to the wall near the Polemarch’s bedroll. He slowly walked over to the female, noticing that she was close to his age while also seeing the multitude of bruises on her smaller body. As he bent down to her level, he noticed her breath hitch and her flinch away from him. His brows furrowed in thought, “You think I mean to harm you?” He asked, trying to keep his - normally booming - voice soft in front of the scared female.

“Yes,” came the female’s voice: soft and cracking as if it had either been used too much or not enough. “Take what you want, just please don’t-” she started before looking to the male in front of her, her eyes widening slightly as she stopped pulling against the chains on her wrists. He looked like a god-made real to her, and little did she know he thought the same of her. “Don’t hurt me, please,” she whispered out, her eyes not leaving his.

“What is your name?” Deimos asked carefully.

“Callista,” she replied softly, remembering how she was told to never share her name with those outside of the fort. Her eyes wandered over Deimos’ armor slightly, concerned about the blood covering parts of the supposed white and gold that was meant to protect him. “How did you get to me?” She asked, seeing the male fumble with the keys she had seen her captor dangle in front of her as a false hope of her escaping and running for help.

“I killed everyone,” Deimos replied flatly, but his tone was demeaning without him realizing it.

The female glued her gaze to the floor in front of her, away from him, until she heard the clicking of a lock near her left wrist, her arm falling close to her body instinctively, looking at the redness around her wrist from the chain holding her to the wall while the guards were not using her “company” to distract from their break from patrolling the Fort. When her right wrist was released, she wrapped her arms around her midsection, finally able to relax from the tension in her shoulders from the chains. The one cuff around her right ankle worried her most, seeing the male’s eyes shift darker at the look of her wrists and arms, she wondered how he would be after seeing her ankle’s wounds.

“Who are you?” She asked as Deimos was unlocking the last bind she had. When the metal that held her for so long fell limp from her skin, she winced at the look of her ankle; the once blemish-free skin now rubbed so much it was raw and burned from the men dragging her around for their use.

“My name is Deimos,” the male said, a growl to his voice the female never expected to hear. “Who did this to you?” He asked, looking into the female’s eyes.

Callista’s head dropped slightly, her gaze landing on her ankle, “The Polemarch brought me here and chained me to this wall, but I think the more appropriate answer would be, “Who hasn’t done anything to me?” I think every guard has…” she said, the female’s eyes becoming speckled with tears forming at the mere thought of what had been done to her over the past months she had been in Artemisa Fort.

“Don’t speak of it,” Deimos said firmly, “You will be freed from that past, only if you agree to come with me. I was promised a reward for clearing this fort of its guards, and I’ve done that.” Callista looked at Deimos as he spoke, her blue eyes meeting his golden-brown eyes, nodding as she took a shaky breath. “Good,” was all he said before standing and offering her his hand.

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After a few-days-long ship ride back to Phokis, a land Callista thought she would never see, the two walked into a mysterious cave next to the building that housed the Pythia. Once they entered the deeper sanction of the cave, she was met by people in a type of armor that she had never seen before. They wore all silver armor and masks with horrid faces imprinted onto them, snakes molded into the breastplates they wore to cover their chest. Before she could register anything happening to her, she felt the hands that were gripping her arms as tightly as the men back in Artemisa Fort. Callista’s blue eyes widened as she immediately tensed and turned her head away from the two people holding onto her, wincing and whimpering in pain from her still-sensitive wounds Deimos had a doctor tend to while still on Kos - he then threatened the doctor to not speak of their presence or he would be paid with death and not gold.

“Release her!” Came Deimos’ voice, booming and threatening while also being protective and possessive over the dark-haired female. When the guards - that is what Callista thought they were anyway - did not budge, Deimos unsheathed his sword, “Did I stutter or whisper, you fools?!” He growled. The guards seemed to tighten their grips on the fragile female, her face showing her pain before her voice failed her and another slight cry of pain left her lips as Deimos visibly tightened his grip on his sword.

“Do as he says,” a female’s voice said. In an instant, Callista’s arms were freed from the harsh and tight holds of the two guards; the female’s heart was pounding against her chest when they dropped her arms, she fell to the ground with the force of how they dropped her. Standing, she started slowly inching away from the two masked soldiers to stand slightly behind Deimos; they seemed to fear the male that saved her life. “What is the meaning of bringing a non-Cultist female with you, Deimos?” The female asked, slowing stepping forward into sight. She wore all black garbs, a snake armband on her left arm, and a golden-white mask with eyes crying red.

“You said that if I returned successful from clearing Artemisa Fort, I would be rewarded. She is what I choose to be my reward,” Deimos said, motioning to the scared looking female beside him. Callista looked to Deimos, hearing the gasps and muttering that ensued after his statement. The male motioned for Callista to walk forward, closer to the circle of robed people, her gaze staying downward as she walked. She felt the multitude of eyes on her bruised skin and wrapped her arms around herself in a feeble attempt to hide from their prying eyes.

“Do you have proof that you were successful?” The same female asked, stepping closer to Callista and Deimos, Callista moving back slightly to be slightly behind Deimos. Deimos huffed slightly, annoyed at her questioning and how Callista reacted, handing the woman the Polemarch’s seal and a treasure from the Nation’s Chest. At the sight of the metal piece and the bracelet Deimos showed, Callista looked away as if that action could wipe away the horrors that man Deimos killed brought upon her. “Good, she is yours then,” the woman said with a wave of a hand.

“But, Ghost, how can we trust her with my child? My child of Hera, there must be something different you want as your reward,” Another woman said, her voice sounding older and sharper and more venomous than the “Ghost’s” voice. Deimos turned to the voice, his eyes having a fire behind them that silenced the voice of who claimed to be his mother.

“Deimos let her live and killed everyone else that walked the grounds of the fort, she must know of the power he yields. He chose her, his choice stands. You two may go, Deimos,” the Ghost said gently, looking to the Callista before returning to the group to talk over things.

The female stayed silent as the male led her into a room with a large bedroll, multiple pillows, a table, and cooking space that Callista could only assume was Deimos' private room. "This is where you will stay with me," Deimos said, "Someone will bring you something more comfortable tomorrow morning, something to establish who you are to the Cult and me." All Callista did was nod and gently brush her fingers over her wrist, the bandages coming loose from the guards’ grips before they were allowed to leave.

"Is there anything you would like me to do, Deimos?" Callista asked quietly, falling into her previous habits: not meeting his eye, only asking him if she could serve him. The Polemarch and his guards had deeply damaged the once happy, bright, girl from Kos

.
"Yes," Deimos said, walking over to the female from where he had gone to rest his sword against the wall. He saw Callista visibly tense, her hands balling into fists so tight he was worried that her nails would break her skin. "Let me rebandage your wrists, and bandage your ankle. It doesn't need to get worse," he said, surprising Callista.

Callista sat in a chair as told to by Deimos, her gaze never rising to meet his. "Why do you care about me?" She asked softly, "None of the guards at the fort did, the Polemarch made sure of that."

"I can't break what I've earned. I won't get another prize," was all Deimos said with a smirk. Callista nodded, not looking into his eyes. "While I do this, tell me about yourself and how you came to be in the fort."

Callista took it as an order, not a request. "I was born to a rich family on Kos. My father is a Drachmae hungry man who uses his money to show the spine he doesn't have, my mother died shortly after I turned thirteen which left my father to care for my two brothers and me," she stopped talking when Deimos moved to care for her ankle, hissing slightly in pain as his fingers barely grazed the raw wound. "My father gave or sold me to the Polemarch of the fort you found me in. I don't know how long I was there," she said softly, tears forming in her eyes from the pain in her ankle and the memory of being kidnapped from her home and waking up in the Polemarch's quarters in the night some months ago. As a tear rolled down Callista's pale cheek, she sighed softly. "Is there anything else you want to know, Deimos?" She asked carefully.

"What did they do to you?" He asked, his tone shifting to one of anger. "Tell me what position your father holds and I'll make sure he's taken down for this."

Callista shook her head, "I can't," was all she could say before Deimos turned her head to look into his eyes, his golden eyes meeting her blue eyes that now swam with tears. "They hit me, and the others. I was a slave to them, treated the same as the ones in the cages but given different tasks," she whispered out, her gaze wavering as she left the most gruesome facts to herself.

"And?"

"I can't tell my father's political ranking. It could endanger my siblings more than they already are. You and your Cult already know of them," Callista said, looking at Deimos with a sad look. The demi-god sighed and dropped his gaze, rolling his golden-hued eyes before walking off to grab his sword and leaving. After a few seconds, Callista finally let out the shaky breath and sob she bit back before, covering her mouth with her hand to soften the noise. The female was exhausted, mentally and physically. She slowly made her way to the bedroll, laying down on the furthest side from the door, not facing the door, falling asleep as tears ran down her cheeks.

When Deimos returned, he saw the female on the bedroll, finally at peace. Her dreams did not seem to be like his, plagued with nightmares and terror. He took off his armor as quietly as possible and took to sleeping on a chair, not wanting to invade Callista's privacy. He was determined to find her father, and make him pay in some fashion. Deimos stopped his thought, "Why do I feel this protective over her?" He wondered, looking back to the dark-haired female that laid on the bedroll. Deimos sighed softly, succumbing to Morpheus’s spell that carried him to dream.

When Deimos woke, he noticed the female turn in her sleep, a look of pain crossing her features before resting back at peace. The demi-god wondered if the pain was from the dream or physical feeling. He dressed in his armor, leaving to train again with anger surging through his veins.

Whoever hurt Callista would pay with death or torture by his hands or order to the Cult.

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When Callista woke, she was alone in the room. She sighed softly, running her fingers through her curls gently - the color of her curls being the same as her mother's, black as pitch. She stood from the bedroll, careful of her right foot, and made her way to the area near the back of the room. There she found enough food supplies to make a nice meal for Deimos and herself, smiling slightly.

Before she could get started, the female who took Deimos' side the day before walked in wearing her Cultist garbs. "These are for you," she said, holding a thinner navy dress that was cut to flaunt Callista's figure, golden sandals and a matching belt, and snake-themed jewelry that she had seen the other Cultists wear and some extra pieces.

"Thank you," Callista said quietly, walking over to the woman.

“Of course, if you are going to be with us you have to wear these pieces to be identified as an ally.”

While Callista dressed behind a standing curtain, the woman stayed in the room and placed the snake armband on the correct arm and explained to Callista that she would have to keep the armband on as much as possible while in the eyesight of any Cult member - Cultist or guardian. After knowing that Callista was ready, the female nodded in approval before bidding her goodbye and leaving the room.

Callista looked down at her new dress, seeing how the dress showed her figure while being modest in an aspect; a small smile grew onto the female’s lips as she thought of the dresses she had at her home on Kos. She shook those thoughts from her mind as she moved to begin on the meal she had planned for Deimos and herself. After all, the male did save her from the wrath of her father and the soldiers that would reoccupy the fort - Spartan or Athenian.

As she finished dishing up the meal she made earlier, Deimos walked into the room, slamming the door shut behind him which made Callista jump. She looked at him, and he looked at her. "Is everything alright, Deimos?" The female asked softly, snapping Deimos from his thoughts. All Callista heard was mumbling about training new, useless, recruits to be guardians until she mentioned that she made some food for them. She could have sworn, Deimos' gaze became softer the second she mentioned food, "Sit down, I'll bring it to you," she offered gently. Surprisingly, the male did what she asked, sitting down and groaning softly as he did. She gently sat his plate in front of him, then set hers down across the table from him, seeing how tense he was as she looked to him. She chose not to speak as she grabbed the bread slices she prepared for them and sat the bowl between them.

"Where did you learn how to make this?" Deimos asked after taking a bite of the food she made.

Callista smiled slightly, "One of the servants of my father's house taught me not long after my mother left with the ferryman," she said, smiling slightly at the memory. “I hope it is to your liking,” she said, her smile faltering as she thought he was asking because it was not up to a par he had set.

“I would say if it wasn’t to my liking,” he said as he took another bite, willing his mind to remember that she came from a family wealthy enough to have multiple servants under one household. The rest of the meal was spent in silence, Callista collecting the dishes once the two of them were done eating.

As the days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, Callista and Deimos began to form respect for each other; mostly Callista knowing how to not set Deimos off into a rage state. In the third month of her being labeled as “Deimos’ reward,” Callista waited for Deimos to return from training the new Guardians and Protectors - the names the Cult gave their soldiers. When the male did return, Callista heard his breaths come out in angered pants. “Deimos?” She asked softly, standing from her spot, a book she found now abandoned. When she looked at the demi-god, she saw that he was visibly shaking with anger.

The male started to take his armor off, his body working as a machine running on muscle memory. Multiple of the Cultists doubted his training of the new men and women soldiers and treated him worse than normal that day. They called him weak for saving Callista. Weak. As Deimos took off his heavy armor, Callista saw a gash in his arm, right near the sleeve of his chiton. He hissed slightly when he brushed the wound, looking at it.
“Let me help you,” the female said, breaking the fog in Deimos’ mind for a moment. She carried a jar of clean water and some pieces of white linen cloth. She gently guided him to sit in a chair as she began to work on the wound, cleaning it gently. Callista worried about Deimos, the male who brought her from Kos to Phokis and away from the Polemarch that only intended to use her for his pleasure.

"You never told me what they did to you in the fort," Deimos said, looking to the female tending to his wound.

Callista shook her head slightly, the star-shaped pins - another gift from the female who took her corner weeks ago - holding some of her curls back from her face, "It no longer matters what happened to me." When Callista looked to Deimos, his golden eyes said everything he wanted to. She sighed softly, “You already took care of them, it does not matter anymore,” she said, smiling slightly as she finished bandaging the wound of Deimos’ arm with actions of an expert. Deimos nodded some, looking to her. “Here, eat. You trained for longer today,” she said, handing him a plate of food before grabbing her own.

After dinner, Deimos sat in the corner of the cool room. He had been slowly becoming used to sharing the room with Callista, giving her the privacy she deserved. Callista retired to the bedroll earlier than usual, quickly falling asleep. Deimos retired to his section of the room, sleeping on the chair he had slept in for the past few months. "Deimos?" Callista quietly asked, looking to him.

He hummed in response.

“It’s colder tonight,” she said, lifting the blankets in a silent invitation for him to join her in the warmth that the bedroll provided.

The male looked to her with wondering and anxious eyes, “Are you-”

“Yes, Deimos, I’m sure,” she said, interrupting the male without a second thought. If Deimos ever wanted to hurt her, he would have done it already. “Come on,” she said, her voice gentle and caring.

The male sighed softly, making his way to Callista and the bedroll, laying down gently, giving her room. Callista saw Deimos relax some under the blankets, a soft smile forming on her lips as she turned away from him to give him privacy as he slept.

In the middle of the night, Callista woke to Deimos muttering in his sleep before he suddenly gasped for air and sat up straight as Callista looked to him, “Deimos?” She asked gently. The male sharply turned to look at her, his forehead having a thin layer of sweat, tears pooling in his golden eyes that only showed fear. She sat against the wall carefully, opening her arms to him like a mother would her scared child. “Do you want to talk about it?” She asked, slowly dropping her arms to her lap.

“No,” he said defensively, sitting cross-legged beside her. “Why do you care, anyway?”

“You rescued me, the least I can do is be kind to you in return,” the curly-haired woman said. “I don’t like talking about my nightmares either,” she admitted, “but it does help to know that someone is there to talk to or help you through the motions of waking up after."
Deimos looked to her, searching her eyes for any sign of lying or trickery, but saw none in her deep blue eyes. He just nodded some, looking down at his lap.

“I will always be here for you, to talk or to listen,” Callista said gently, smiling softly. “Try to get more sleep, you need it,” she said, noticing the darkened skin under his golden eyes. She could easily get lost in the pools of gold that held back so many secrets behind fortified walls, but Callista had to keep her guard up, knowing Deimos could send her away in seconds if he wanted.

The LAST thing she wanted was to be put back in a situation similar to the one she was in while being held in the fort on Kos.

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Over the months after Deimos brought Callista from Kos as his reward, he has been fighting stronger, more cooperative with the Cult’s plans, the model weapon shaping for them. The demi-god was less reckless as the months drew on, that was until Elpenor was found dead. Callista had watched the gathering from the shadows, hearing Deimos’ anger from outside their shared room, the last time she heard an exclamation like that was when Deimos returned from a mission to a lie unfolding in front of him. The dark-haired female rushed out at the sound of Deimos’ yell and clanging of metal on the floor, being stopped by a Guardian while she was still out of sight of the Cult members. The majority of them, especially the one who called Deimos her son, did not like her presence even after almost six months of her being Deimos’ reward.
The female had to cover her mouth to cover the gasp she let out at the sight of Deimos haphazardly throwing a severed head towards the Cultists. “Elpenor is dead!” He announced with a tired, pissed off tone. “One of you is a traitor!” Deimos spoke, beginning to walk in the inner ring of the Cultists, “The Artifact will expose them.”
Callista moved forward a bit, still hidden, but able to watch the man she grew close to change from the Deimos she knew to the Deimos the Cultists knew. The male’s voice now dripped venom, as if he was a snake teasing their prey with false hopes. The female flinched at the sudden yell from Deimos as he threw one random Cultist towards the pyramid-shaped object in the center of the room. “Everyone will be tested,” she heard his voice drag out, showing his power over them. She saw the soldier bend down, his lips moving before he roughly yanked the Cultist’s hand onto the object as it began to glow. The female’s blue eyes widened in shock, wonder filling them.
Callista was snapped from her trance by hearing Deimos say, “Go,” with a quiet, yet deadly tone before picking someone else. The same word came effortlessly after the second Cultist, but with the third Cultist, something. Callista saw pain cross Deimos’ face for a split second before the two shared whispered words and he let them go with a stronger voice than the others before. The next robed person was not so lucky, Callista turning away as she saw Deimos lift and throw the body as if it was a bag of air, then begin to punch the person without remorse.

When Deimos returned to their room, Callista looked to Deimos, fear in her eyes. She did not dare speak, feeling fear for the first time in months.
“Callista?” The male asked softly, seeing her eyes and hearing her careful breaths. She wordlessly grabbed a bowl of clean water and linen to address the wounds on his right hand from killing the traitor that was in their midst. Deimos moved to sit down, watching the female’s movements carefully. Why was she scared?
As Callista tended to his hand, her own smaller ones trembled, scared of the male in front of her. She witnessed Deimos’ full strength for the first time after he cleared Artemisa Fort.
“What did you see or hear, Callista?” Deimos asked her in his normal tone, the sarcastic tone he used with the Cult. When the female stayed silent, he clenched his fists, “Answer me!” He yelled at the female, causing her to flinch and move her hands to her chest as a form of protection. Callista’s eyes went wide, the same look she gave him in the Polemarch’s quarters in that damned fort he found her in. “Callista,” he said quietly as he tried to calm himself down, “tell me, what did you see me do?” He asked gently, breathing deeply as he reached towards her. They had made so much progress, she had started to tell him more of what happened before she was left in the fort.
“I-I saw the entire act, Deimos, starting with you throwing Elpenor’s head,” she said in a whisper. “I heard you kick the fire pit over and thought you were hurt.” The female gently and carefully reached for his wounded hand again. “Let your hand relax, it’s tearing the wound open more,” she said, her tone carrying almost no emotion.
“One of our own has turned against us, Callista, I had to,” Deimos said, hissing slightly when Callista applied a healing cream the demi-god had gotten her from his travels to use on her then-still-healing ankle and wrists. The cream never got used on her, leaving Callista with scars from where the chains rubbed her skin raw, the female chose to use the cream on Deimos and soldiers who trusted her for a moment.
“I know, but you just-” Callista said, wincing at his hiss of pain, muttering apologies softly as she began to wrap his wound. “It was as if they weighed nothing, like an empty wine bottle,” the female said, her breath shaking slightly with each inhale and exhale she took.
“His name was Epiktetos,” Deimos began, “he paid the debt he owed and is now with Hades.” The female only nodded in response, not able to speak. Callista finished bandaging his hand and dropped her hands into her lap gently, playing with a spare piece of cloth to ease her nerves. “That is why I tell you to stay here unless I’m with you out there; it’s too dangerous for you to be alone without the Ghost or myself. You and I both know that she is the only other one here that has any form of trust in you to not harm the Cult or me.”
“I know, Deimos,” Callista said softly, standing to take care of the water bowl she had used. Someone would have to either get new water for them, or Deimos would go and get it himself. “I shouldn’t have followed you to the meeting room, I know, I’m sorry,” she said, back turned to him.
Deimos sighed softly, walking to stand beside her, “Don’t do that: apologizing. You acted on instinct and nature, nothing you could’ve helped.” The male, being taller than Callista, gently rested his hand on her arm, standing beside her. “You did put yourself in danger, though. I can’t have you do that again.”
Callista nodded, looking to Deimos, his gentle nature something she was still getting used to. He only showed it to her, and even then it was scarce that he was like this with her. She looked back to the bowl, still holding dirtied water from cleaning Deimos’ hand, then looked back to the demi-god. “What did the Artifact show you that took you so long to react with the second Cultist?” She asked, “You don’t have to tell me, your face said a lot of what was running through your mind, but Deimos you looked scared.” Deimos shook his head, and Callista looked back to her hands, “I understand,” she said with a slight smile.
Deimos looked to the female, a small smile on his lips, "Let's rest, it's late into the night, now."

In the morning, Callista woke to the loneliness of the room she had lived in for months. That became the routine: Callista would wake alone, get ready for the day, clean the room, then start on the evening meal she frequently shared with Deimos. The female hummed a lullaby her mother used to sing to her softly as she cooked a soup recipe. The soup was one she made to feel comfort and warmth, an old favorite. As the words softly fell from her lips, Callista found herself singing into the empty room; her voice was soft enough to not be heard outside of the room. The female was so focused on the pot in front of her that she did not hear the door opening and did not see Deimos walk into the room.
When Callista stopped singing, she heard Deimos clap some which caused her to jump slightly, “Deimos! You-you scared me,” she admitted, a blush dusting her cheeks as the female looked to the male. “How long were you listening?” She asked.
“Not too long, enough to realize that you’ve kept your talent from me,” Deimos said, moving to walk to sit at the make-shift table in the room.
“Oh,” Callista said, “Well, how was your day? You left earlier than usual this morning,” the female mentioned, gently pulling her ebony curls into a loose braid to keep them from her face while she cooked more.
“New Guardians think too highly of themselves,” Deimos muttered, prompting a soft smile to form on the female’s lips, “And I got the news of another mission for me. It will take me back to Kos.” Deimos saw the female he had grown so close to almost drop the spoon she was using suddenly at the name of her home island. “I want to know how you ended up being in the fort I cleared before I go. I want to know who put you there so I can add their names to this kill list,” Deimos said, his voice dark and deadly.
Callista looked to him, “You already killed the ones who caused me pain, Deimos, so why inflict pain on others?” She asked.
"Now you sound like you want to be an Athenian," Deimos muttered.
Callista shook her head slightly, "No, I'm proud to have been born a Spartan, but I will say that none of this would have happened if I was born Athenian. The kidnapping, the Polemarch,” she said softly, her voice trailing off. Her dark blue eyes went to her wrists, the scars now lighter against her skin. The female had grown into the habit of picking at the scarred skin when she was deep in her thoughts or nervous, but her nails once again found their pattern of gently picking and scratching at the scars. "But that would also mean not being rescued from Kos at all. I'm glad my life has played this way."
Deimos took Callista’s hand to stop her from breaking the still-tender skin on her wrist, “Do you want the wounds to reopen?” He asked with a condescending tone. Callista only shook her head slowly, not meeting his eyes. “Tell me who caused you this pain,” he said, his voice his normal tone he used with the Cult - demanding and godly.
“I told you, Deimos, my father is the one who set the plan in motion to put me in the fort. Will I tell you his name? No. I have my siblings to protect from your Cult of Kosmos,” the dark-haired female said, taking her hand from his and looking to him. Deimos saw the power in her blue-hued eyes, eyes the color of the ocean waters at night. “Please, understand where I have to draw a line to stop telling you about my life before the fort. I did not fight to gain nothing from it, my brothers will stay safe from the Cult as long as I live. You have me, but never them.”
Deimos nodded curtly, sighing some, "I understand," he said, then smirked, "but you know that we will find them anyway. I found out that the Polemarch I was told to end was not only an enemy to the Cult, but he had plans for the family of the leader of Kos. It is this family that we’re after. We want the sons to be trained under me, maybe turn them into full enlisted Cultists themselves. It would be a type of punishment for the family for turning against the Cult after so long of being allied with us.”
All Callista could do was walk away from him, holding back her emotions as she turned away from him. “The Spartans of Kos are not as weak as you think, Deimos. The guards at the fort may have fallen easily, but the citizens are strong.” She absentmindedly began to serve the soup into two bowls.
“Only a Leader would know how strong a country’s people are,” Deimos reasoned, looking Callista over to take in her defensive body language. “Or the family of the Leader.”
Callista looked to Deimos as she brought him a bowl of soup and a spoon, “I know the people are strong because I was one of them, among the citizens daily until being trapped in the fort. The people fight for their livelihoods: money, food, animals, jobs, they fight for it all. The only ones who don’t struggle are the Leader and his family.”
Deimos studied the female's words and her actions as she spoke, "Who are you?" He asked, muttering the words mostly to himself but they caught Callista's ear.
"Gain my trust to know the answer, Deimos. For now, I am only the girl you saved from a life of "serving" the guards, Captains, and Polemarch at Artemisa Fort until they tired of me and killed me. Let me learn more about you, then you may learn about me."

What was this woman doing to him?

Chapter Text

Deimos had pulled some strings with the Ghost of Kosmos, allowing him to ask Callista if she wanted to accompany him back to Kos from Delphi. The mission would start on the eight-month anniversary of his mission to clear Artemisa Fort. When the demigod returned from his job, training the newest recruits until they broke into a Cultist, he saw Callista standing in the room, looking around for something. The male let his golden-hued eyes scan the female slightly; the dark purple dress she had been given looked as if it was made only for her body to wear - it fit her too perfectly - and the golden Cult-associated armbands complimented her skin and hair. He made a mental note to thank the Cultists who got her the dresses he had become accustomed to seeing her wear. “Lost something?” Deimos asked, finally making his presence known to the Kos-born female.
Callista turned to see the male, “Not exactly,” she said as a soft smile graced her lips, that was something Deimos could never get tired of seeing, “I just wanted to surprise you.”
“Surprise me?” The male asked, confusion showing in his voice. The dark-haired female nodded, the smile still present on her lips, “With what?” He asked.
Callista turned to the bedroll the two of them had shared for close to three months now, picking something up from under her side of the bedroll. “I know the journey to Kos is not comfortable, and it is long,” she said, her back still to the demigod. Deimos had gotten her small gifts after she showed her loyalty to him and the Cult, starting with sewing supplies from Attica. She turned to face him, holding a small pillow, shaped like the ones on their bedroll, and a blanket sized for easy travel. “I hope these are to your liking, Deimos, I want you to return safely and comfortably.” In reality, the female had noticed how the boat-rides made Deimos tense and uneasy upon his return; she was always taken to the port by the Ghost of Kosmos upon Deimos’ request and noticed how he visibly relaxed when he was able to sleep on a real bedroll, not a ship’s floor.
Deimos took the two soft objects, confused as to how to respond to her kind gesture. “I will make sure to return safely,” he muttered softly, but that still caused the female’s smile to grow slightly. “I do have something to ask of you in return, Callista.”
Callista looked to the male, “What is it?” She asked, a look of concern crossing her features.
“Would you like to come with me?” Deimos asked, “You would be by my side, in Cult dress, protected from prying eyes. You miss your home, Callista, don’t lie to me.” Of course, Callista missed her homeland, where she had been born, and where her family was from but was she willing to return to the island that had caused her so much pain knowing who Deimos was after?
“I-I don’t know Deimos,” she said softly, carding her fingers through her black curls gently, “I do miss home, but I can’t face the people again. I know they will recognize me somehow,” she worried.
Deimos was the one now concerned, “Why would they recognize you? You keep telling me that you were a normal citizen, but now I’m thinking you lied to me.” His voice turned from concerned to aggravated in seconds.
Callista sighed softly, “I never lied to you, but kept information from you. If you want me to go, who am I to go against your wishes?” She asked, trying to calm the conversation back down.
“You still have a choice, Callista,” Deimos said.
The two soon ate and went to sleep, silence ending the conversation until Callista agreed to go under his protection.

Every time he looked at her, he was reminded of what her name meant: “most beautiful.” None of the Cultists averted their gaze when they saw the female beside him. Now on a ship owned by the Sage of the Gods of the Aegean Sea, the man had not been wearing his Cultist robes at the time he finally introduced himself as The Hydra when the demi-god and female boarded. Callista wore a black dress, symbolizing the Cultist guards the members normally wore when she saw them. Her sash was replaced with one looking like a snake of gold, the Cult’s symbol. She still wore an armband, but not the snake one that was given to her months ago; this one was a golden band with a small snake etched into it.
When the ship docked on Kos, the female suddenly became nervous. “Let’s go,” Deimos said, looking to the female. He was more demanding in front of his Cultists to not show his emotions for the female in front of the ones who thought he was the emotionless demigod he was presented and trained to be.
As the two walked, the male Sage grabbed the female’s arm roughly, making her gasp out in pain and shock, “Deimos, you’re sure you want her to go with you? She’d be much safer on the ship with us, out of the city,” The Hydra said, his voice showing darker intentions than keeping the female safe.
“Let her go before I cut you down. I’d be happy to find a new Sage,” Deimos growled out, beginning to draw his sword slowly before Callista was let go.
“Fine, here’s your little pet,” the older male said, looking the female over before smirking evilly. The look that was given her made Callista shudder slightly, backing up towards Deimos as the demigod gently pulled her to him.
“You think about messing with my reward, your head will end up like Elpenor’s,” Deimos threatened, seeing the color drain from The Hydra’s face at the promise of death. Deimos walked Callista from the ship, looking over the city’s nightlife: parties going on in the distance, fires lit, some houses dark while some left candles glowing.
"I've missed this," Callista said softly, a smile gracing her lips. She looked to the Leader's house, her house, and saw a figure standing on the balcony of the room she knew as her father's. "Malaka," she muttered, quickly hiding her face from his gaze.
Deimos looked to her, not expecting the profanity to come from the normally-gentle female's mouth, "What? Are you okay?" Deimos asked, walking her towards the safety of a house the Cult secured for the two of them.
"I am fine, just the city has changed some since I was last able to see it." The lie that left Callista made her heart drop slightly, but she knew she was protecting her family.
Deimos looked to the female as they entered the safe house, “How long were you in the fort, then?” He asked.
“It could have been months, Deimos,” Callista answered, hoping he wouldn’t pry for more information. “I was taken from my home, then put into the Polemarch’s quarters. That’s all I know,” she said, looking to him with sad eyes.
The male walked to her, gently taking her hands into his, knowing nobody else could see, “I will soon find who let you get taken by those men, Callista. Then, you’ll have nothing more to worry about.”

Chapter Text

Two days into their stay on Kos, Callista walked around the market, hooded and in the black dress she was designated to wear. The kind-eyed female was at a produce stand, buying fruits and vegetables to make dinner for the man she traveled with and herself before a hand grabbed her arm from behind her.
"I thought they killed you in the fort," the male said lowly into her ear, his voice was dark and violent.
"I've never been in a fort, sir," Callista said, trying to pull from her father's grasp and walk away from the male she knew too well. The Leader of Kos, Ulysses the Angered, was the one who sent Callista to the fort to either die or give Sparta soldier’s spawns before they decided they were done with her: an easy way to get rid of the one thing that reminded him of his dead wife. Callista looked exactly like her mother and none like her father: curls black as the night sky, paler skin tone no matter how long she spent in the sun, and those kind ocean blue eyes her father grew quickly to hate. Out of his children, she was the only female and the only one who did not favor him.
Ulysses chuckled darkly, “Why lie to me, child? I can see the scars on your wrists, they must be from the chains,” he said, beginning to pull her from the market and towards the Leader’s House, away from the house she was supposed to meet Deimos in hours later.
Callista harshly pulled her arm from her father’s hold once they were out of the majority of the public’s eyesight, “You sent me there to die, yes, but I was saved by a man that can strike you down with Zeus’ power. I will not go back, not into the place you’ve turned into a sex-house after Mother made it a home for my brothers and me. Never,” she said, her tone matching in darkness with Deimos’, before turning and walking towards the safe house once again. She lifted her hood once more, calmly walking to the safe house, showing her armband to the guard at the door before walking in and finally letting out the shaky breath that she had struggled to keep in her lungs since the conversation with her father.

The female had decided to make herself busy through the rest of the time Deimos was gone to try and forget what happened hours prior. No matter how hard she tried, her father’s voice echoed in her mind like a ghost.
When Deimos walked in the door later in the day, Callista had her back to him as she cooked and hummed softly to keep the silence broken. "What smells so good?" The demigod asked.
"Lamb stew," Callista answered shortly, not turning to face the male who saved her from that island months ago.
"Are you ok? You're not your normal, meek and kind self," Deimos questioned, using the normal tone that he used with the Cult.
Callista sighed softly, "I'm sorry, I'm not-" she paused to turn to the male slightly while stirring the stew, "I'm not feeling well. I'll dish some up for you then I'm going to head to sleep." She prayed silently that the demigod could not hear the slight lie pass through her lips. Sure, she did not feel well, but not most would think: her mind was plagued with worry for her brothers now that her father knew she made it out of Artemisa Fort alive. Callista turned back to the stew, dishing a serving for Deimos before setting the bowl with a plate of bread on the table for him. “Good night,” the female said before heading to the room that held their shared bedroll. Callista took off her armband and earrings before getting into the bed, facing away from the door and towards the window as she covered herself with the blanket available.

When Deimos went to get ready to sleep himself, he saw Callista’s face crossed with pain as she slept, the female hugging herself as if she was being hit. Suddenly, the female woke as her blue eyes shot open and her arms left her middle.
“Deimos, when did you-”
Deimos interrupted her by doing the same motion she did for him weeks ago in their room back in Delphi, opening his arms to her as he sat cross-legged on the bedroll beside her. The female looked to him with weary eyes before accepting his invitation, slowly moving to be in his hold as her arms wrapped around him gently. The movement she made shocked Deimos, not expecting her to take to him. “What caused you to wake?” He asked.
Callista shook her head some, not verbally answering Deimos’ question as she relaxed in his hold; she felt safe in his arms. Safe.
There was a sound from the front of the safe house that made Callista jump in Deimos’ hold as he looked towards the stairs. “Stay here unless I call for you,” the male said, his tone dark and deadly while protective and possessive. All the dark-haired female could do was nod her head slightly as she left his hold to back herself into a corner in the room away from the stairs. Deimos wielded the Sword of Damokles as he walked down the stairs, the weapon glowing with a mysterious and mystical life that the female had never seen before.
All Callista could focus on was her heart racing in her chest, her breaths coming in quick and sharp inhales as she tried to control the worry and panic that rose in her chest as she prayed to any god or goddess that would listen to the female’s pleas for Deimos’ safety. It was then that the female heard a commotion from outside the safe house as she went to look out of the window, Deimos throwing a Spartan soldier to the ground, his sword sheathed on his side. Callista ducked from the soldier’s sight, only able to see Deimos’ mouth moving but not able to hear the words he said; she could only guess that he threatened the younger male as Deimos sent him running off. Deimos looked to the window, Callista easily reading the anger in his eyes from the second level of the house before she rushed to move from the window and back into her corner.
“You lied to me,” Deimos suddenly said, Callista’s gaze snapping to the male she did not hear walk into the room.
“What did the-”
“Are you his daughter, Callista? The Leader’s daughter?” Deimos yelled the questions at the smaller, frightened female before him. The silence, tears in Callista’s eyes, and the way she looked down was the only answer the demigod needed before he stomped out of the room.
Callista’s eyes widened, running after him, grabbing his arm fearlessly, “Don’t kill him,” was all her small voice said in the silence. “Please,” she pleaded as her voice became tainted with her sadness and the tears that now left trails on her pale cheeks. “Let my family stay how it is, my brothers don’t need to experience any more pain. They must think I’m dead or long gone and never coming back,” she said, thinking of her two brothers who she was so close to growing up.
“Callista-” The male began to growl out.
“No, Deimos!” The female said, her hand dropping from his arm as she trusted him not to leave the safe house. “Think of them, please,” she whispered as the male turned to face her, “Think of me.” She knew that she was possibly Deimos’ only weakness, the one thing he would die to protect, as he had said to other Cultists when he thought she was in the room and not with the Ghost of Kosmos and under her protection. When someone even mentioned Callista, or something vulgar about her, Deimos would get very protective and beat the person within inches of their death bed.
Demios turned to Callista, his eyes filled with anger that made the golden hue of them brighter and more intimidating. “He sent you to die in that fort, by the hands of the guards he puts his trust in!” The male yelled, his anger projecting through his voice. “The guard came looking for you to “finish what your father started by sending you to the fort” Callista! He wanted to either kill you or take you back, would you want that?” He asked, anger showing in his steps towards the female, backing her against a wall quickly.
“I swore I would never go back to him, Deimos! Never!” The female yelled back at the male, her voice and eyes showing her fear, anger, and sadness from her tone. “You don’t want to know what he made me believe, Deimos. As a child I thought-” she said, stopping when a soft sob escaped her lips as she tried to push past him, or push him away from her. Her father had trained her to not show emotions outwardly through the punishments he gave her as a child, “Even though I’m the second-born, he made me believe that my mater’s death was my fault,” she said, not meeting the demigod’s eyes as she spoke. “I was only thirteen,” she whispered, her hands falling by her sides as they slightly shook. Deimos backed away from the female, looking to her as she cried. Callista never showed weaknesses, seeing her broken made something shift in the demigod’s mind: he had to protect her and save her from what made her feel weak.
The male, unsure of how to reply only said, “I’m sorry, Callista.”
“If he comes for me again, let me go,” Callista said softly as she looked to the male, “Follow or send a Guardian if you want, but let me get my brothers a way out of what can only be compared to Hades’ home and what my mater left to me; her ring.” Deimos’ eyes flashed with anger at the female’s words, “That or we leave Kos so he does not come for me again while we’re here. You may be able to use this house if we clear out by tomorrow morning before Helios brings the sun.”
Deimos sighed softly, gently pulling the female to his chest, “We will not leave until my mission is completed here, Callista. My mission is to bring down the Leader a few pegs, but now all I want to do is put an end to him and your suffering.”
Callista sighed softly, relaxing into the male’s hold, “For my brothers’ sakes, don’t harm him,” she said softly. “If he comes for me, watch where he takes me to, I won’t fight him this time.”
“This time?” Deimos asked, looking at Callista, eyes filled with anger and worry. “What do you mean this time?”
Callista looked into Deimos’ eyes as she answered, “He tried to drag me out of the city while I was at the market today,” she admitted.
Deimos’ golden-hued eyes darkened as they filled with anger, “Let’s see what he tries next, and then I’ll deal with him.” Nobody would hurt his prize, his reward, his Callista ever again.

Chapter Text

The next day, Callista went out into the market again, this time her dark hair was braided and pulled from her face as she wore her hood and the dress from the day before. She walked around the market aimlessly, hearing the sounds of the people she was meant to watch over as the Leader’s child. As she walked from the market and into the city, she noticed children running and playing, a soft smile forming on her lips as she watched them with kind eyes. She truly missed being able to run and walk freely through the streets with the children, corralling them as she would to try and get her job of teaching them done.
“Where are you headed?” A deeper voice came from behind Callista, but she feared nothing, knowing who it belonged to.
“I was only walking through the town I haven’t had the pleasure of seeing fully for months,” she replied, looking to the demigod behind her. “I thought you were going to keep some distance so he would come and try to take me again,” she said, slightly teasing Deimos’ protective nature over her.
Deimos rolled his eyes at her jest, “We wait until tonight, there are too many people out today for him to feel like he would be able to take you away from the markets.” Callista nodded some, her hood falling away from her face. Deimos took the opportunity to tuck a loose curl behind the female’s ear while fixing her hood gently. “Let’s head back,” he said gently. The female was surprised by the demigod’s kind action, his voice neither demanding nor condescending while his touch was gentle and kind.
The two walked together through the town, and the female could not help the way her blue eyes looked towards her old home, “If he sees me again, he won’t be as easy to shake off,” she said absentmindedly. Deimos only nodded, showing his acknowledgment of the fact he already knew, “Which is why you’ll be watching, right?” She whispered, fear now seeping into her heart at the thought of her father harming her.
Deimos looked to the female, “Of course, I’ll be there.” Deimos knew in his heart that Callista was his to protect, not just as his reward but as someone he deeply cared for. That was something the Cult could never, never, find out; they could use Callista against him, hurt her, or take her away from him as punishment for showing weakness. He could not have that happen, not to Callista.
As the two walked, Callista saw something move quickly from the corner of her eye, looking to where the movement came from, “Deimos?” She asked softly, “Did you see that?”
“Yes, keep walking,” Deimos said lowly, protectiveness dripping from his voice as he gently laid a hand on the center of Callista’s back. As the two neared the house that had been their home for a few days now, Callista heard something from inside the creme-colored walls shift and fall. The two stopped sharply, the female’s eyes widening with fear as she looked to Deimos. “Go to the boat,” he ordered her, the female shook her head.
“I won’t leave you alone,” she said softly.
“I won’t let harm come to you. You’re mine to protect. Go!” He demanded, the female finally giving in and walking in the direction of the port.
As Callista neared the grand ship the Cult arrived in, she was grabbed and dragged to a cave and deep into it, away from the public’s eye. When she tried to yell for help, a cloth was shoved into her mouth, her blue eyes igniting with fear as she looked around, searching for help from a Cultist guard or The Hydra himself.
“You think you can escape your pater and me?” A male’s voice ground out from behind her. She recognized the voice of the soldier, one from her family’s house. Callista was spun around, her blue eyes meeting the brown ones of Andrian. Andrian was the captain of her father’s guard, the one who watched her grow up and protected her and her siblings. He was the one, other than her eldest brother Andreas, who taught her how to wield a sword and a bow. Now she understood their name meanings: Andrian meant darkness, Andreas meant protector. When Callista was being sent to the fort, Andreas tried to go in her place to protect her.
Callista tried to speak past the fabric shoved into her mouth. When it was taken from her mouth, the first thing she said was, “He will find me, and kill all of you.” As the last word left her mouth, Andrian struck her, slapping her hard enough to make her lose her balance and fall against the cave’s floor. The only sign of weakness she showed was her eyes widening at the impact.
“Tie her up, the fort’s men will pay a pretty drachma for her,” Andrian said darkly, earning chuckles and dark laughter from the men with him. Callista was lifted from the floor, her head held high with dignity as she was moved to a wooden post. Her wrists were tied together, then she was thrown against the post, pain burning through her spine as rope was wrapped around her middle, tying her to the post.
“You think this will stop him?” Callista challenged.
“I know it won’t, your pater just wants to anger him enough to make a mistake and flee. Your little fílos won’t come for you, Callista,” Andrian said, a dark and menacing smirk growing on his face at the mention of Deimos. At his statement, Callista dropped her gaze to the floor of the cave, her knees bent as she sat kneeling painfully while silently praying to any deity that would hear her.
Little did they know, The Hydra had seen what happened and was now rushing to tell Deimos. When he met the demigod, he saw two bloodied and mutilated bodies and an angry male in the front room of the so-called safe house. “Deimos-”
“They were paid, Callista was taken,” was all Deimos growled out, his body visibly shaking with anger. “I sent her to you!” He yelled, pointing his sword at the male Sage’s throat as he turned around.
“I know what happened, Deimos,” The Hydra said as calmly as possible. How could one be calm with an other-worldly sword pointed at one’s neck?
"Tell me, now before I have to make another sailor a Sage."
"A man dressed as, or who is a Spartan soldier took her from the port road and dragged her along the beach. There should still be footprints and draglines in the sand if you hurry." The Hydra sighed in relief as the sword was taken from his throat and sheathed as Deimos stormed off, taking multiple Guardians with him as added but unnecessary muscle - he wanted to show off to this man who took what was his.

When Deimos reached the beach, he was visibly livid: his eyes burning with the color of molten gold, his sword drawn and shining with life. His eyes searched the sand for any clue as to where they dragged Callista off to, seeing a path of disturbed sand not fifty feet from the Hydra’s ship. Who took her and where? The male searched for Callista, walking the beach with his men. When one of them shouted to Deimos, he ran over, moving in front of the Guardian to uncover the opening of a cave.
“Here we are,” Deimos growled out, showing his true anger. He told the Guardians to stand outside of the cave, going in on his own to get Callista back. As the demigod walked into the cave, his sword gave off this unearthly light, seeming to have a life force of its own. The male easily struck down any soldier seen, most of the time not looking at them as he slicked through them with his sword. When he reached the innermost part of the cave, he heard talking between two soldiers.
“When will they come for her?” One asked, sounding young and inexperienced.
“In a few hours, most likely when the night comes,” the other said, sounding older and more experienced than the other. What caught Deimos’ ears next was a heart wrenching sound, a shaky inhale, and a soft cry of pain that could have only been from Callista. The male slowly snuck over to the two men, killing them both the instant he got the chance to. Once Callista was in his eyesight, the male visibly relaxed, looking around for any more of the soldiers.
The sight of Callista angered him, she looked weak and tired, seeing tear stains on her cheeks was not what Deimos was expecting to see from her; she was strong, but this was different. He was about to move from his cover when a male walked in front of Callista.
“Given up hope yet?” The male asked, bending down to be in front of Callista. The only answer he received was her spit in his face.
"Never," she spoke out, her voice powerful but soft in the same breath. Callista felt pain radiating from her back, knees, and wrists, the ropes rubbing into her soft skin to cause new wounds where the healed ones were now in the form of scars. "He will find me, and when he does, you'll be dead."
The male just chuckled before it turned into a full laugh, "I would like to just see him try to kill me. Even if he does, your father knows you're both here. He'll find you both either on or off Kos, and get his due," he said before his hand came in contact with Callista's cheek.
The very force of the slap sent her head to the side and caused her vision to spin. All she heard was the drop of the guard's body before she could open her eyes again to meet Deimos's anger-filled eyes. "Deimos," she whispered softly as he began to untie her. "You need to get out of here," she said softly.
"I won't leave you alone again," he growled out, anger still flowing through his veins. As he looked to Callista, he saw no light in her eyes - the same light he had grown fond of - and it only fueled him to avenge her pain. Once she was untied, he lifted her into his arms to carry her from the cave. The sound of approaching footsteps stopped Deimos's movement for a quick moment before he hid Callista in the same bush he had hidden in before. "Stay and keep silent," he ordered her in a hushed tone, the female nodding a bit as fear filled her blue eyes.
"Ah, Deimos I presume," the male said, a wicked smirk growing on his lips. Andrian walked to Deimos, seeming unafraid of the demi-god standing before him. "Callista kept saying you'd come for her," he said as his smirk only grew.
"You took something that belongs to me, I'd like to have it back," Deimos said, his voice deep and dripping with deadly venom. Suddenly the tip of his sword was millimeters from Andrian's throat. "Tell me what you and her pater wanted with her and your death will be quick and painless, stay silent and you'll be tortured for hurting someone affiliated with me," he said, a smirk rising to his lips. "Think about it," he growled, inching closer.
The second pressure was behind the blade, Andrian sighed out from fear and giving up. Everyone knew not to fight the Cult's weapon. "Fine, remove your sword," he said.
"Not until you do as told," Deimos growled out, pressing closer to the opposing male. "Tell me."
"All I know is that he wanted to sell her back to the fort or she would be sold as a wife to another Spartan male," Andrian said. "He despises her, she reminds him too much of her whore of a mother to keep-" the words were cut short by the sound of gasping breaths as Andrian dropped to the floor with a deep enough slice to the neck to bleed out slowly enough to feel pain.
Once Deimos was satisfied, he walked back to where Callista was hidden away and carefully lifted her into his arms. Her blue - and pain-filled - eyes met his golden ones as she gently and carefully wrapped her arms around Deimos's neck as he carried her. "Who was that to you? He knew your father," Deimos asked as he slowly walked from the cave.
Callista shook her head some, "Not now, please, Deimos," she said softly. She glanced at the male before sighing softly at the look she received. "He was the captain of my father's guard," she admitted softly.

Chapter Text

At that admission, Deimos felt his heart quicken and his anger rise. The man that was supposed to protect her had harmed her and Deimos blamed himself - he wasn't there to save her before she was bound and wounded. 

"I was always the one to ask for lessons on sword fighting before my brothers could, Andrian was my teacher until my eldest brother took over teaching me," Callista explained as she slowly closed her eyes and relaxed more in Deimos's arms. She felt tired, weak in a way she had never felt before, and Deimos saw this as her breathing slowed a bit to show her exhaustion.

"Sleep, Callista, I'll take you to a healer in the city," Deimos said softly to the female in his arms. He saw a faint smile grace her lips before she drifted away in his arms. 

Callista woke later, laying on the bedroll in the safehouse with Deimos sitting by the window. "Deimos?" She whispered out, her voice softer than normal due to the stress she had been through.

He walked to her side, kneeling beside her, "The doctor said you'll be sore for a few days," was all he said before looking into her eyes. "I have the Hydra's ship still docked, waiting for you," he said.

"Just me?" Callista asked softly, confusion in her gaze as she looked to Deimos. He nodded some, the female frowning slightly. “Why? The Cult is expecting you back soon,” the female said.

"You'll be safer there, Callista, I want nothing to happen to you," the demigod admitted. "I left you alone, you were taken and-" he said before Callista gently placed her hand on his arm nearest to her to stop him. 

"I'm alright, nothing that time and rest won't heal," she said, a soft and tired smile gracing her lips. “You kept me safe, there’s nothing to fear from the Cult,” she said, knowing how the Cult truly treated the male with her. He was strong, but he was a toy in the hands of the Cult’s members. The female slowly sat up, thankfully still dressed, looking to her wrists as they were wrapped just like they were when Deimos first came to her aid. “It feels like just yesterday when you first helped me. You’re a good man, Deimos,” she said softly. 

At her words, the male’s heart relaxed a bit, but he knew how softness and emotions could hurt him in the end. He could not let her wiggle her way into his heart how she was trying to already. Little did she know that he was showing more of his real self to her, not the man that was made by the Cult. “Rest, Callista, we will leave in the morning,” he said. 

“Leave? Don’t you have to-”

“It’s been taken care of,” he said, interrupting her from mentioning the man who had a plot against her. Her look of confusion had him answering her further, “While you were sleeping, I paid him a visit. We...talked for a bit, and now my mission is done. He mentioned you and that was all it took for me to take him down how I was supposed to.”

Callista looked at him with confused eyes before she sat up fully against the wall behind her. “Is he dead?” She asked, her voice showing no emotion. When he shook his head, the beads in his hair shimmered in the dim light coming into the room. “I want to go see him. I have the Cultist dress given to me here, I want him to see me stronger than when he threw me to the guards,” she said with a stronger tone to her voice. When Deimos went to speak, she stopped him with her own voice, “I want you with me when it happens. I want to see my brothers, but I want my father to see who I’ve become with your help.” 

“Are you mad? Have the Maniae entered your mind?” He asked, his tone shocked and angry but not at Callista. “Are you sure?” He asked, looking at the female in front of him. When Callista nodded, he stood, moving to the small trunk with her clothes in it, her armbands laying on top of it. “We can go tonight,” he said shortly, leaving the room. 

Soon, Callista was in the black dress that shimmered in the light when caught a certain way, her hair pinned back with the star-shaped pins given to her by the Ghost of Kosmos, and her snake armbands that showed her allegiance to the Cult and to Deimos were resting comfortably on her arms. When she walked from the room, she saw Deimos dressed in his bright armor, a smirk on his lips as she walked toward him. 

“Are you sure about this? You can still change your mind,” he said, but when Callista looked to the door and then back to him, he nodded some, leading her out of the safe house and to the streets. She wasn’t covering her head, letting the people enjoying the nightlife of Kos see the missing daughter of their leader. Some people turned to look and began to whisper and gossip, shocked to see her alive after being told she was dead and gone. They had not been able to mourn her due to the Leader’s anger towards her very existence. 

When they reached the property known to the civilians of Kos as the Leader’s House, the guards parted for them to enter. Soon, they were inside her old home, looking at the table she used to sit and eat at with her family. The first person Callista saw was her youngest brother, Ajax - his name meant mourner due to the emotion her father showed to the public. She saw his eyes widen at the sight of her, she was alive and there with the man their father feared. 

“Are you here to meet with the Leader?” Ajax asked them, walking over to stand in front of them. It seemed to her that she wasn’t being asked or spoken to, therefore Callista stayed quiet, not answering her brother’s question as Deimos spoke. 

“We are, go get him before I search for him myself,” Deimos growled out, his hand easily resting on his sword. Callista watched her brother walk away, the female sighing softly. “Which brother?” He asked her as two Guardians of Kosmos followed them as well.

“Ajax, my youngest brother. My older brother is most likely training with the guard,” she said before hearing footsteps approaching them. She saw her father, Andreas, and Ajax. She saw her eldest brother stop walking, tears gathering in her brother’s eyes as no emotion showed in hers. 

“Ah, Deimos,” her father greeted, earning a look of boredom and aggravation from the demigod, “the Champion of Kosmos, you show your face to me once more. How can we be of service to you and your...pórni?” he asked with a smirk. 

The Guardians unsheathed their swords, Callista stopping them with a slight movement of her hand, the guards listening as Deimos instructed them to before that afternoon. “I would watch your mouth,” Deimos growled out, seeing Callista smirking beside him. 

“Now, you don’t mean that, do you, Pater?” Callista asked, looking at the male with a smirk and a dangerous look in her eyes. “Maybe you do after all. You did send me off to the fort to be chained up in the Polemarch’s quarters to be used as they wished.” As she spoke, her eldest brother looked at her father with a look of shock and disgust. “It’s true, Andreas. The very fort you patrolled for months was my home, after you were moved here to train new guards I was moved there. He probably told you I had run off or died, didn’t he?” 

“You little,” Ulysses began, stepping forward before Deimos drew his sword and pointed it dead at her father, pushing Callista behind him as if to protect her from her father’s words. “Oh what, you’re here to protect her from the truth of what she is?” He asked, fully fulfilling his name then: Ulysses the Angered. 

“From the lies you spin about your daughter,” Deimos answered, no emotion to his voice as his tone stayed level like his sword as he held it in his outstretched hand. “She now serves the Cult of Kosmos and is under the protection of the Cult as well. I would watch your mouth, prove you’re as smart people say you are.” Deimos then turned to face Callista, a smirk on his lips, “What do you want to be done with him?” He asked her. 

“Do what the Cult assigned you to do once more, Champion, take him down a few pegs. It seems to me that he cannot learn or listen to the warning you gave him earlier. The two sons are not to be touched or harmed,” she said, looking at each of her brothers, seeing fear in their eyes. “Do not worry, your father will live, but his status might suffer. I trust one of you will take over in his place if that does happen,” she said before the two Guardians walked forward and took her father by the arms. Her word choice did not go unheard by either of her brothers or her father, she denounced her relation to her father then and there with a simple sentence. As Callista looked at her brothers, her emotions hidden in her eyes, she saw her older brother holding back tears and her youngest brother shocked. She knew she would reach out to her brothers, and let them know she was alive and well within the Cult of Kosmos, but she also knew that would never be enough for Andreas and Ajax to forgive their father for his lies and corruption of her name. Her father was taken out of the room by the Guardians, down to where she had told them the prison and punishment cells were, to wait for Deimos to unleash his wrath upon him. 

Callista looked at Deimos, who nodded to her before leaving her alone with her brothers. Callista looked at them and smiled softly before she walked towards her brothers with open arms and tears in her eyes, Ajax falling into her arms first as she hugged him. “We thought you were dead, Astéri,” he said, using her nickname that meant Star, her name that matched her brothers’ names with their starting letters. 

“I’m okay, I’m alright.” Callista let herself bask in the embrace given to her by her younger brother before speaking again, “But even though I am alive,” she said before hugging her older brother gently as well. “I will not be coming back here anytime soon after tonight,” she said with a soft voice as she parted from her older brother’s hold, “But, I will try to write you when I can. I am safe with the Cult, safer than anywhere else. I’ll be alright.” 

Andreas nodded some before speaking to her, “As long as you’re safe, that’s all we ever care about, Callista, you know this.” 

It was not too much longer after that conversation that Deimos walked back to her to lead her back to the safehouse to pack their belongings from the safehouse to prepare for their departure. The female sighed softly, nodding some before she looked to her brothers with a soft smile on her lips. “I love you both, you know this. I have to go, the Cult expects us back home tomorrow night,” she said before receiving one more hug from both brothers. After this, the female was led out by Deimos, her heart dropping at the thought of not being able to see her brothers freely after this night. She did not realize she called the secret passageway and building that the murderous meetings took place her home until after she had reached the safehouse with Deimos. 

“You called it home,” Deimos said, earning a confused look from the woman packing with him. “The Cult, you called it home when talking with your brothers.” The male walked to her side as she folded the blanket she had given him for this journey. “Do you mean that? You feel safe there?”

Callista stopped folding the blanket over her arm to look at him with a soft and sad smile. “The Cult feels safer than my own home did all those years I was there after my mother passed on to her second life. I feel safe with you there,” she admitted as a soft heat came to her cheeks. “You have been nothing but kind to me when you did not have to be, Deimos. That means more to me than you know.” 

Deimos stopped in place as he processed her words. Nobody had ever said anything like that to him, mostly it was degrading words from the woman in the Cult known as Chrysis who had practically raised him up in violence and told him that pain and love were signs of weaknesses of the flesh. She was a priestess of Hera, known in the temple, and had tortured him from a young age. “You don’t mean that,” he said with a flat and harsh tone. 

“I do mean that! Do the others tell you differently?” Callista asked with a softer tone. The female knew the Cultists, especially Chrysis and the Ghost were hard on him as they trained him up in violence and hardened his soul to the world. 

“I was raised to be a weapon for the Cult! Nobody should feel safe around me, I’m a weapon!” He said, anger rising in his voice. 

“No, Deimos,” Callista said, her hands on his arms to bring him from his anger back to the present conversation, “You are a man, a demigod, yes, but a man. You are being used as a weapon, yes, but you show more than that. Protecting me from my father is one way to prove that. If you were a weapon, you would’ve left me in the cave and let me die. I am nothing to the Cult, you are everything to them, Deimos.” 

Deimos shook his head some, scoffing softly before he moved from her and went back to his pack. “We need to be getting things ready for the ship. The Hydra won’t wait on us.” 

As the conversation was forcefully ended, Callista nodded some before continuing to pack, packing the blanket in her pack before the rest of her clothes that would be put into the chest before their departure from the safe house. All too soon, the two were walking behind the guards carrying the chest that contained their clothes and the proof that the Leader of Kos had been taken care of. When they boarded the ship, the female instantly went to the cabin where she slept on the journey, needing to be alone. 

“What happened between you two?” The Hydra asked, earning a glare from the demigod of the Cult. 

“Nothing happened.” Deimos walked from the male to the other side of the grand ship, looking to the waters and bracing himself as the ship left the port. The two were in silence the entire time back to Phokis, but the only thought that went through Deimos’s mind was on how brave Callista had been to face her father and not give him up during her time in the cave. He decided then that he would try to reconcile with her from their spat in the safe house once they were back in Phokis, under the Sanctuary of Delphi. He lost her once, he was not losing any part of her again.

Chapter Text

Black sails entered the port of Phokis, Callista standing next to Deimos as they docked, ready to disembark and go to the secret rooms under the Sanctuary of Delphi. All she wanted was to be alone then, her body and mind were still healing from her ordeal with Andrian and her father. As soon as The Hydra gave them the clear to walk off of the boat and down the ramp to the port, she did. 

“I trust that you two were successful,” the woman only known as the Ghost of Kosmos said from behind her mask, her question sounding closer to a stated order. 

“Yes, we knocked the Leader down in his people’s eyes,” Deimos answered, his voice hard and void of emotion. 

“What do you mean ‘you two’? The quest was Deimos’ alone,” Callista answered, thankful for the cloak of night covering them at the time. 

“Callista,” Deimos said lowly, trying to warn her to stop but the Ghost answered her question with a smug stance and tone of voice.

“Do you think that I let you go just because Deimos asked me to let you go along with him? No, darling, I know who you are to those people. You know them, and you got Deimos in and out without too much bloodshed. Good job,” the Ghost said with a chuckle to her tone before turning and walking away as Callista’s heart dropped to her stomach. The female felt her heart rate begin to race as she felt the reality set in that they truly knew who she was and who her brothers were. 

“Callista, come, let's head on,” Deimos said as he began to walk towards the Sanctuary. Callista numbly followed the male she had hoped to trust but now it was all being questioned in her mind. Was she truly safe as she had told her brothers? Would the Cult go for her brothers? Would the Cult toss her back to a fort again? Her mind was racing with questions until Deimos stopped her by placing his hand on her arm, pulling her with him when they were entering into the cave leading to the meeting place for the Cult. “Do not look at them, do not show your weaknesses,” Deimos said, referencing the multitude of eyes she felt on her skin then as they walked through the room to their living quarters. The woman did as she was told keeping her head held high and only looking forward as they walked into Deimos’s quarters. Callista walked in when Deimos opened the door to start unpacking, seeing the trunk there with their belongings, as it had been brought in as well and already dropped off as the Guardians were in front of them. 

Callista made herself busy to have her mind shift focus to that task instead of the fate of her brothers. As she began to unpack the trunk, she first put the blanket and pillow on the bedroll and then went to the clothes on her side of the trunk. Deimos saw this and knew she was making herself busy for a reason. "Callista," he said, trying to get her attention on him instead of emptying the trunk. The female moved with calculated movements, her body working off of nature alone then. The male gently placed his hands on her arms, bringing her to him then. “Look at me, Callista,” he said with a louder voice than he meant to. 

When the female looked up at him with tears flooding her eyes and spoke in a broken whisper. “She knows me. S-She knew who I was to the island!” She spoke out before the tears fell from her eyes and she took a shuddering breath. “They have to be safe, Deimos. My brothers can’t come here, Kos needs them more now with my father being knocked down.” The female’s eyes were bright with fear and panic as her thoughts raced all too fast. Deimos knew that look all too well, but not with someone he found himself caring for so deeply. “If she hurts them I don’t know what I’ll do,” she said, one of her shaking hands moving to cover her mouth as a soft sob begged to escape. She feared what would happen if the noise carried outside of their quarters, not knowing what cultist or Sage lingered around their door. 

Deimos slowly moved to bring the smaller female to his chest, his armor already put in its corner. “Breathe, Callista,” he said lowly, holding her gently but loosely in case she wanted to move from him. When she wrapped her arms around him and took in a slow, deep, and shaky breath, he tightened his hold on her. Over the time Callista had been with him in the Cult he found himself softening to her presence. He knew this meant he was weakening in the eyes of the Cult and their practices, but none of the Cultists knew of this budding and forming relationship they hid within their quarters. “What we will do is put one of your brothers in charge with a treaty between the Cult and the island. Profits will come in for both of us,” he said, trying to ease her nerves while leaving out what would happen if her brothers were to refuse. They would be forced to sign by the Guardians and the Sage who will go and propose this agreement and alliance to the brothers. “Do not worry about it for now. Go rest, I must go meet with the Cult and let them know of our success.” Callista slowly nodded as the two let go of each other before Deimos moved to redon his armor. 

“I trust you, Deimos, please keep this between us for now. I need to be the one to make that known to the Cult, who I was to the island of Kos. Who I am because of the island and my father’s actions,” Callista said, the strength in her voice surprising both of them. 

“You are who you are because of the Cult as well, Callista. You are stronger, free, and safe here. I pray to the gods that you know this,” the demigod said before he left their rooms for the meeting with the Ghost and the other Cultists who viewed Deimos as their weapon. Callista’s eyes stayed on the door, a part of her hoping to not be alone for long. The female decided it would be best to keep herself busy by cooking dinner for that night, unpacking their chest, and putting away their things from the trip. The chores she made for herself occupied about an hour of her time, the female sitting on the bedroll feeling over her armband idly. The female looked around the room she had come to know and become accustomed to over her time in the Cult’s hold. As she was lost in her thoughts, Deimos returned, a different fire behind his eyes. 

“Deimos!” Callista said, standing from the bedroll once the door was closed behind him, “How was the meeting with the Cult?” The only answer the woman received was a shake of Deimos’s head that made the golden beads in his hair catch the light. “I made some food, come sit.” The woman was caring to a fault, the woman doing more for Deimos than herself. When the male sat down, Callista plated his food, then placed it in front of him. 

Deimos had a ghost of a smile on his lips as he asked, “Is this another meal they taught you back home?” His smile widened slightly as Callista nodded. “It smells divine, Callista,” he said, causing a light blush to rise to the female’s cheeks. 

“Thank you, Deimos,” she said softly, making her own plate with smaller servings than the ones she gave the demigod sitting across from her. “I unpacked the trunk from the trip,” she said as she sat down. “All of the clothes are sorted and put away,” she said, beginning to list off all she did when the male stopped her. 

“Thank you for doing that,” he said softly, awe filling the male’s eyes. “You did not have to do that, I appreciate that you did.” The male was realizing slowly that this softness he felt for Callista would soon be his downfall or strength in the Cult, but he could not find it within him to care which it would be. Deimos, the demigod of the Cult of Kosmos, was falling for the estranged daughter of the Leader of Kos. He was scared, a feeling and emotion he had not felt within him since he was a child, for their future and safety within the Cult now that the Ghost had confirmed his fears. The Ghost knew of Callista’s origins, which meant that the Ghost could have planted Deimos’s quests to the fort and to Kos because of her influence over the people and guards. The Ghost was a sneaky woman with connections to Greece that nobody fully knew or understood, that fact alone made Deimos hold a part of himself back, guard himself, and cloak himself in protection that only he can give himself. Even his mother within the Cult did not fully know him. She did enough damage to him as a child, the tests and physical harm she put him through was enough to scar him from trusting anyone within the Cult fully. Until Callista came into his life via the fort mission and him finding her there, wounded as he was as a child. She did not trust at first, it had to be gained just like his did. Deimos saw a lot of similarities, a lot of himself, in how Callista was then. Even then, he did not know her past trials and pain enough to know how it affected her. All he could hope to do was be there for her, support her, and protect what was his.