The Epic of Silk & Bronze - Prologue
Natsu Dragneel/Lucy Heartfilia, Ancient Greek AU
Summary: As the Spartans invade Attica, an Athenian woman's only responsibility is her household, bearing children, and being invisible.
But Lucy's soul wasn't built for containment, and the walls keep closing in and the stars can't quite reach her. She tries to keep it all in check, tries to do her duties, but when a mysterious mercenary who runs a little too hot and asks her too many questions invades her cage, she has no choice but to ask Athena for forgiveness and the sky for guidance.
With the promise of safety behind her and the rest of the world ahead of her, she can only hope the decisions she makes and the people she trusts are the right ones.
Tags/Warnings: Natsu Dragneel/Lucy Heartfilia, brief Lucy/Loke, Ancient Greece, eventual smut, slow burn, sort of enemies to friends to lovers, Peloponnesian War, Alternate Universe, graphic depictions of violence
I recommend reading on AO3 here
Hi everyone!
These notes might be long buT PLEASE STAY WITH ME.
This is the first time I've posted anything on this app in like, 10 years. Started as an idea for a completely different fandom and then... got away from me because NaLu has my heart always, and I couldn't find an Ancient Greek AU for them. Assassin's Creed Odyssey was the initial catalyst and then it spiraled. I was also inspired by Bloodlines by @onlyottermadness. Came for the romance, stayed for the adventure, ya know? The story was so well thought out and the characterizations were some of the best I've seen in FT fics (and I've been AROUND A LONG TIME). I haven't had the motivation for story telling in a long time, but this one changed that. Go read it, and its sequel!!!!
If you want to read this, and want to see it continue, please be patient with me. I'm writing this in the little to no free time I have (I am in a very intense program where I'm in class like 40 hours a week and I have an exam every 2 weeks and-) It's also the first thing I've written in a while, so I'm rusty. Lets get some things out of the way before you hop into this journey with me <3
HISTORICAL ACCURACY: Its there when it can be and not when it can't. I tried my best, but it got to a point where the research was more than the writing. Some information is also differing and unclear or difficult to find, so on and so forth, so I take liberties where they make sense and stay true to the time period when it's possible. I mean cmon, I wasn't going to marry Lucy off at 14 years old and give her children. Also took some liberties with the treatment of women here because obviously they deserved better. So don't be the guy who gets on me about accuracy because I WILL point and laugh.
CHARACTERIZATION: I'll try my best to keep these guys as in character as possible WITHIN this context. I've aged most of them up a little (early 20s ish at the youngest) and am aiming for a mature story. So yeah they might be a little OOC but like... wouldn't you be? I'll try my best tho.
AI: I stand ten toes down here. Using Generative AI for writing is an abomination, and I will not stand to be accused of it either. I have been writing from my own brain since before some of ya'll on here were even born. If you think for even a second I might have used it, consider that I'm an intelligent and educated person and remember that people like me (writers) are what ChatGPeePee or whatever STOLE from. Not the other way around.
So yeah. I'm also SORT of writing as I go?? But I do have a plan?? Feel free to interact with me (please do). Community is the best place for inspiration and I want to experience this adventure with you.
Tags and warnings will be updated/added as we go. Slow going at first, but enjoy nuggets!!!
PROLOGUE
She swears the wall gets taller and taller by the day.
She knows, of course, that can't really be true. She's sure she would have seen the scaffolding even from her distance. Perhaps somebody would have mentioned it, if they were working on increasing the cities fortifications even further. She knows it's not growing, and yet it looms in the distance and she's sure she can see it breathe like an ox heaving before it's haul.
Alive, unyielding, and protective.
It's a beast up close. She knows that. Purposefully slapped together on top of remnants from era's long ago, the cap of a desecrate column here, the stone of a long gone district there. But it's been a long while since she's ventured that far, and even longer since she's stepped through the gates to the other side.
Her eyes scan along it's sprawl and at the highlands beyond, a vast and unfamiliar plain lying beneath those far away hills. Sometimes she can see black smoke billowing into the sky, venomous clouds that could never be produced by the cooking fires of the outer villages. Once, on a day where the wind slept, she swore she could hear the shouting and clashing of metal travel over that endless rampart and through the city. But just barely, if she hadn't imagined it altogether.
But it's all far away from her. Separated by that damn wall. A whole world away.
She sighs. How could she really be mad at it, when it's just doing it's duty, fulfilling its obligation?
The evening breeze is cool, kissing at the back of her neck like it has secrets exclusively for her ears and her ears alone. The summer sun is just tucking below the horizon and the stars are twinkling above her as she stands in the solace of her upper terrace.
The stars glimmer for her. That she's certain of.
She stretches her arms before leaning carefully against the wall. This was her routine.
When the home was taken care of, when the sun was setting and the city around her settling for the night, the stars waking, she moves up to the tallest floor and into the fresh air. To breathe. To exist without demand. To envision. To expand the bars around her soul so it can stretch it's restless limbs.
Her eyes meet the distant wall again. She thinks it definitely grew this time.
Maybe I'm just smaller, she muses.
If she had the eyes of a hawk she knows she would see the men she knows are traipsing along the rampart. Observing. Waiting. Guarding. Dedicated to the security of the grand polis below.
Do they truly want to be there? Do they look out at the plains, past the derelict villages and burning farmland, and yearn for something greater? Do they wish to drop their weapons and wander the wilderness, visit other city states?
Maybe.
Or perhaps, most likely, their focus is entirely doing their duty. Fulfilling their obligation. As far as she's concerned, Athenian soldiers are vehemently loyal.
"Lady Regulus."
A timid but familiar voice interrupts her sanctuary.
She turns and meets the wise, dark eyes of her nurse. She holds a basket on her hip, filled with herbs and a few flowers she can't identify under the moonlight.
"Spetto. How are we doing for preparations?" She asks kindly.
The old woman gives a smile. "Everything will be in order for the coming days." She reassures. "The General should return tomorrow evening, as he said."
The General.
The young woman's gut twists, but only a little. The word still feels so abnormal to her.
"Wonderful."
Spetto steps forward, glancing over the young woman's attire with a furrow in her brow. "Lady Regulus-"
A hand. "Please, call me Lucy. Like you used to, okay? I don't see why that has to change now that I'm married."
A nod. "Lucy, are you not catching a chill?"
On queue, a gentle wind blows across the upper story.
"Never." Lucy says, and decides she can't have more of Spetto's fretting for the evening. She's had 20 years of it, and as grateful as she was for it, she could see the woman was tired. "It's our warmest season. If there's a chill, perhaps its just you."
Spetto can only roll her eyes and give a light smile at the teasing.
"Here, let me." The blonde steps forward and takes the basket from her nurse's arm. "Go rest for the night. I'll need you for the coming week."
Spetto starts to protest, but decides against it. With a gentle squeeze of Lucy's arm, the woman shuffles away, down the stairs and into the shadows.
Lucy stands there, holding the basket and scanning the space around her. No broken pots. No wilted plants. Pergola intact. Every flower in bloom. Unsurprisingly, nothing is amiss, despite the constant tugging in her gut that something always is.
She spares the stars, the wall, a final glance before steeling herself to march down the stairs. It's an easy task, yet the weight of the basket is almost unbearable on her hip. She assumes she's merely exhausted from the day under the summer sun.
Down the stairs. Through the courtyard. Into the kitchens where she places the basket down carefully next to some bread. Back through the courtyard. Up the stairs. Into the master bedroom.
She doesn't hesitate. Doesn't look around her even bother to undress.
She stares at the ceiling for a while. Feeling so much yet nothing at all. Climbing the stairs had felt like an agonizing task, and now her body is restless. Unable to decide what it feels.
She thinks of the wall again. She thinks of the guards on the wall.
It doesn't stop.
That barrier between her and the rest of the world has been calling her, teasing her day in and day out. It wants her to creep through its gates and onto the plains and never look back. It wants her out, yet keeps her in.
Yeah. It's just the wall.
Eventually, Lucy lulls herself into a restless, dreamless sleep.
________________________________________________________________
The morning starts like all others.
She wakes up with the sun. There is already movement down stairs and in the streets outside.
She longs to stay there, wrapped up and isolated, but she can't. The General is coming back, and that anticipation spurs her up.
Down the stairs. Across the courtyard. A young woman waits for her in the bathing quarters, with a louterion full of water just for Lucy. Dismiss her. Wash quickly and efficiently.
Its after she is draped on her peplos, one of her more expensive ones — deep blue with golden motifs and a mantle to match — does her routine change.
"Lucy?"
The blonde looks up from her stool, a pin for her hair poised in the air. "Virgo. Is everything okay?"
The young girl steps into the room, and without hesitation, steals the pin away and takes the long, golden tresses into her hands with a vigor that's almost inappropriate. "My brother is back today, right?"
Lucy adjusts her posture and lets the girl work without a peep of protest. She knows immediately that something is on her mind. Pink hair frames her cherub cheeks, and her eyes are focused and still so full of life and wonder. She's young still. A strangely intense yet comforting presence in Lucy's life that she's glad she got to take under her wing. Virgo was truly the closest thing she had to a wedding gift, and she wouldn't change it for the world.
"He's supposed to be." She answers. Through the foggy mirror she watches Virgo twist and pull, concentrating. "You haven't done my hair for me in a while. Is everything okay?"
Virgo starts to nod, then hesitates. "I had a bad dream, about him. Last night."
Lucy listens intently with open ears. Doesn't push.
"I feel like the older I get, the more I worry about him." The teenager confesses. "I hear that the Spartans are cruel and brutal and really strong. What are we to do if something happens to him?"
"Direct combat with those beasts has been very rare." Lucy reassures. Another twist, another pin. "He's strong and smart. He will be fine."
"But what if he isn't? What if he makes a mistake, or makes the wrong call? He's always been my big, invincible brother but with everything going on-"
The older of the two reaches up to carefully grasp Virgo's hand in hers. halting her work. She stands, steady and present so the girl has something to lean on.
"Virgo, he's not a General for nothing." Her voice is sure. "You don't need to make yourself sick with worry about something that likely won't happen. He's strong. He's a fighter." A hand brushes a strand of pink hair away from wide eyes. "Besides, you know his job is mostly administrative in the safety of the city. Honestly it's the politics that might get him in the end, not some Spartan monster."
It was an attempt to lighten the mood, to decrease Virgo's concerns, but the young girl's brow remains furrowed.
"I know but not this time. What if he doesn't come home?"
"He will."
"He told me he was going outside the walls, what if he doesn't?"
"He wanted to scout the outer wall and the damage to farmland for himself. Nothing more. He will be back."
They stand in silence for a long time, one could almost hear Virgo's anxiety clashing with her logic. The logic, or maybe Lucy's stubborn words, seem to win the battle this time.
"I know, you're right Lucy." She replies, her shoulders visibly depressing. "I'm sure Pericles causes him more stress than anything."
At the mention of the name, they giggle together, and Lucy sits back down so Virgo can finish up with her hair.
It's nice. For a brief moment in time, Lucy is relaxed, and nothing else matters beyond the threshold of that precious bathing room. Despite the age gap, Virgo felt like the closest friend she could have. She admired her attitude, her curiosity, her vitality. She kept the black hole that slithered within Lucy's shadow at bay.
Lucy knew that in any other world, had Virgo been born into a family with far less coin to go around, she could thrive on charm alone.
"Thank you."
Virgo steps back to briefly admire her work, smiling wide at the sophisticated twists and perfectly placed pins. "Could you do mine tomorrow?" She asks.
Lucy nods. "Of course I can." She responds enthusiastically. As Virgo turns to leave, Lucy reaches across the table to a handful of glass and ceramic flasks, all intricately designed and brightly coloured. "Rose or saffron today?"
From the threshold, "My brother prefers the saffron."
Lucy's finger tips hesitantly freeze over the rose scented perfume, and with a settling of reality back onto her shoulders, grabs the glass bottle with the saffron oil. A dab on the chest, the neck, her wrists. Expense be damned.
She hovers in the room for a while longer. Her body aches. She already feels like the day has been done a dozen times over.
Perhaps she could lie — say she's feeling feverish and needs to lie down — but she's an honest woman, with too much to do, so she decides against it.
Push through. Like always.
Into the courtyard. Sip from the cistern. Acknowledge Zeus Herkios at his altar. Inspect the house. Decide to cook in the courtyard today.
Duty and obligation.
Luckily, the morning went quickly, and it was just as the sun was passing its highest point when a burst of energy came through the home, like one of the wind gods had just strolled on in.
Lucy was on the terrace again, sitting in the shade of a floral covered pergola, gracefully sewing a delicate pattern into the old fabric of a long unworn peplos. It was nothing fancy, not like the golden paint on what currently draped her body. Her stitching was softer, more subtle.
Which went against everything she had ever been told about how she was to dress. It didn't matter to her in that moment.
She heard the hustle and bustle of downstairs and Virgo's cheerful cry, and that was her signal. The General was home again, and an air of calm washed over her knowing he was safe. She worried about him just as much as his little sister did, though that was something she would keep to herself. Virgo's comfort and reassurance was far more important than whatever addled her own mind.
But she made no effort to move, instead remaining focused on her stitches. There was already a meal ready for him and she wasn't feeling particularly hungry yet. She knew he would be up in her quarters eventually. He always sought her out, never once expressing any expectations that she do the seeking instead.
It was an unspoken kindness he willingly gave her.
Her eyes wandered to the horizon again, hands slowing until they stopped completely.
Her thoughts were the same as usual. Visions of what lay beyond, of the world she could see if she wasn't tied up in the city, if there wasn't a war, if she didn't have responsibilities.
She had been passed the city limits, long ago, when life had been simpler. She wondered how much had changed in 20 years, aside from the Spartan destruction and the scars on the outlying villages. What was left of them, anyway.
"Lucy."
Shaken from her thoughts, the young woman falls from wherever she was and back into her dulled reality. Her eyes look up to meet his. Always wise, always kind, with a softness reserved for her and Virgo alone.
"Leo. You're home." She smiles. "I was worried."
She stands to her feet to greet him. He'd already changed, his chiton old and plain, one she had patched for him just recently. She embraces him, guarded but not cautious. Practiced and familiar. He's as warm as the summer sun.
His arms, strong and sure, wrap around her tighter than she would have ever deemed appropriate just months ago, but she doesn't resist.
He was still her Leo, her friend before all else.
"I'm home." He says against her hair. "But what's the worry for? I was only gone a few days."
She pulls away now but his hands stay firmly on her elbows, like he wasn't ready to let go. She takes him in; there's a fresh bruise on his cheek, just yellowing at the edges, and a shallow gash on the side of his neck. Fear immediately boils up from her gut and into her chest. He shouldn't look like that.
"You ask me what the worry is for looking like that!" She scolds him, "You were just going for a scout. What happened?"Her hands reach up to touch at his brow, his cheek, his neck, wanting to fix something even if the damage was superficial. She feels almost angry, but only almost.
"It was just a couple bandits, nothing more." He grasps her wrists and pulls her wandering hands away from his face. "Stop stressing. They just caught us by surprise, that's all."
Lucy gives him a huff and pulls away, her legs weak, so the immediately goes to sit back on her cushions in the shade. She feels his eyes never leave her. "It's bad enough when you go out to fight."
He laughs in a poor attempt to soothe her. He follows, quickly taking his own seat on the cushion and courteously extending a hand to help her sit as well.
This was the routine. Everyday the same. He would return home and join her on the terrace, where she always would be if she wasn't tending to the household.
"It wouldn't be right if I stayed within the polis." He responds after they've made themselves comfortable. Lucy, returning to her stitching, and him, leaning back against the stone. He looks younger this way, casual and serene, she thinks. "I need to lead by example. If I want to tell the army to risk their lives, I have to be willing to do the same, and the least I can do is see for my own eyes the damage the Spartan's have caused."
There he is, brave and noble. Lucy sighs. "I understand. I know how difficult it is. I know how hard you fight. I know you wouldn't want your men facing those beasts alone."
Her husband nods. "The Spartan's are… they're tough. I don't even think they're human." He admits. "They're really testing us. I'll be honest, my bride, they've done a lot of damage. They're violent yes, but not stupid. They're not just sitting out there waiting for some poor Athenian hoplite to drop his guard."
Lucy frowns, worry etching into her otherwise soft features.
He notices, and quickly places a calloused hand on her shoulder. "It's alright my darling. They've invaded Attica before remember? We just have to hold off until they run out of resources and need to retreat. That's why the outskirts are basically abandoned now. Everyone is safe in Athens' walls."
Lucy does remember.
"Nothing is going to hurt you here," He assures. "Athena protects us."
She looks up at him. She feels tired, conflicted, and she hides it well. But one thing she is certain of is his safety, and his promise to keep her and Virgo out of harms way.
She pretends that that's all she could ever ask for.
"You look beautiful today." He smiles, reaching to brush his thumb across her soft cheek.
"Do I not look beautiful every day?"
"Stop it, of course you do." He grins. "And think about it. If I didn't have my position, you wouldn't have this home, or these robes."
He's right. She smiles. It's easy, for a moment.
But her mind, always wandering, thinks again to the outside. She should be grateful for her goddess's protection, grateful for the safety, grateful for her comfort and her husband's wealth. So many would kill to be where she is, housed, always fed, never close to danger.
So why did it all feel wrong?
Leo interrupts her thoughts once more, this time with a nose in her neck and his lips grazing her collarbone. "You're wearing the perfume I love."
His hands reach for her, carefully taking the cloth and her needle and placing it to the side somewhere. She's easily pulled to her feet where he grasps at her waist and pulls her close.
"Leo..." She knows him. His touch, the look in his eyes. Too well.
"What?" He whispers, and doesn't hesitate to pepper gentle kisses along the column of her neck. She lets him.
She doesn't have a reply, so he pulls away and takes her hand in his. Without a word, he starts leading her back towards their quarters and she willingly follows. Movements steady and rehearsed. This, too was the routine.
As he presses her down, her dress lifting from her thighs, she lets the weight of him seal away her internal musings, her longing, and she can just be there with him. Her husband. Her friend.
This is what she could be grateful for. Out of anyone it could have been, at least it was him. This, they could share.
________________________________________________________________
Her father's funeral processions felt like they had barely concluded when Spetto was sent to fetch her.
"Lucy," She starts, tentative, almost unwilling to continue. "Your uncle is here. He would like to speak with you."
The blonde grimaced. She knew what it was going to be about. She had been dreading it since her father passed, and even long before then. She just expected a little more time to mourn.
She followed her trusted nurse downstairs. The household was dim and quiet in the early evening. She brushed her robes and adjusted the laurel on her head as she reached the ground floor, where her tall and gloomy uncle stood in the open courtyard with his hands held behind his back.
She'd interacted with him very little growing up, but she knew he was the spitting image of her father in both scowl and bitterness. And now he was the only close family she had left, and she knew he would be getting straight to the point.
"Lucy." He greeted her with a brief nod of his head. "Have you met General Regulus?"
Its then, and she didn't know how her vision had narrowed so much that she missed him, she saw another tall figure move away from the wall with hair the colour of the sunset and a familiar face. Her blood ran hot, or cold, she couldn't tell. She just knew it burned and it burned fast.
"Leo." She whispered with only a fraction of the surprise she was really feeling. She was completely caught off guard. Alarmed. She hadn't been expecting her old friend to be there, at a time like that, with her wet sack of an uncle, in her home.
"Hello, Lady Heartfilia." He smiled. Cordial, pleasant. A smile she saw so many times in their childhood now worn on a grown up face with sharpened features. "It's a pleasure."
She hadn't seen him since before she'd heard he'd stepped into his title.
Her eyes glanced back and forth between the two men; two people she would never have expected to see in the same room.
Her uncle stepped forward and broke the bubble of their reunion, of which he was clearly unaware was such. "Lucy, I know your father's funeral processions have only just clued up and you're in mourning, but as your current guardian I must insist that we handle this as efficiently as possible."
She tilted her head to the side in question, but the cogs were turning and she was putting the pieces together already. Perhaps she would have figured it out sooner had she not been in so bewildered.
"Without a son, as your father's only child it is your responsibility to marry as soon as possible to secure his estate. " He told her with growing stress in his eyes. "Though this may be… an improper way to go about it, you should be pleased to know I have arranged for you to marry General Regulus."
Lucy's big brown eyes snapped back to Leo, whose expression remained soft but otherwise indifferent. His gaze didn't leave her as her grouchy uncle continued on about duty and responsibilities and something or other about rank, but she didn't hear him well. She just stared at the young man in his fancy chiton and he stared back. Her ears felt clogged and her chest felt suffocated.
"Sir, if I may." Suddenly Leo's hand reached out to politely land on her babbling uncle's shoulder. "Your niece is clearly overwhelmed. Allow me to escort her upstairs for some air. We will continue this discussion another time."
He didn't give her uncle the time to properly respond before he was encouraging her back up the stairs with a palm firmly on her back as a means to steady her. If her uncle had been any ounce of caring or responsible he surely would have said something about the impropriety of her being alone with him, but alas he was too stunted and she was too shocked to think twice about it.
Finally, up on the terrace again with the evening breeze on her face, Lucy came back to earth in what felt like a unbounded wave sent by Poseidon himself. Her hands gripped the stone edge like a lifeline as she breathed in the fresh air and attempted to steady herself.
"I know this is a lot for you to take in." Leo kept his distance. He wanted to give her the opportunity to process it all. Always so chivalrous.
"You think?" Lucy snapped back, not with malice, just with a deluge of confusion and frustration. He didn't mind.
"I'm here to answer your questions and ease your concerns." He reassured her with a forgiving smile.
Lucy turned to him then, but her hips lean back against the ledge for support. Her hands ran across her face like she wanted to peel away her outer layer and start anew. The General remained patient and unwavering in his attention.
"I didn't catch… most of what he said." She admitted to him, and her hands finally settled at her sides. "My father died a week ago. I am his sole survivor. I had to take care of everything, and suddenly you come back into my life and I'm to marry you."
Leo frowned, unable to imagine the whirlwind her heart was experiencing, and knowing that his arrival was poorly timed. "Well, yes."
"Tell me everything." She demanded, gaze sure. "I would have figured my uncle would have handed me off to one of his sons. That's the protocol. That's what was supposed to happen."
"Indeed. He did say that this route was improper." Finally feeling like the air was safe enough he moved to lean against the mantle beside her. There was a weight on his shoulders too. She could feel it merging with her own, an understanding yet to be met.
"It certainly is. Not that I have a choice in the matter."
"I know." He responded. She needed the explanation, so he started without further delay. "I was at a gathering when I over heard that Jude Heartfilia had passed away."
"You heard that over the wine?" Lucy tried to tease, but the punch wasn't there. She didn't have the strength.
He chuckled. "I thought of you immediately. I wondered what had become of you. So of course I sought out who had been talking about it, and it was your uncle."
"Drunk, I'm sure."
"Very." He affirmed. "He was quick to spew nonsense about how with his brother gone, he had a new 'ward' to manage in his niece, and he was determined to marry you off to his son as soon as possible to continue the family line."
Lucy felt nauseous but remained as calm as she could. Of course her uncle thought little of her, that was to be expected. She was but a young and eligible woman, and nothing more. Not somebody he wanted to be liable for. Marrying her off and handling Jude's estate was his only concern. It was the only expectation laid upon her from the moment she was born.
"So he was going to marry me off to a cousin." She confirmed, sick at the thought of one of her incongruous and spineless male cousins taking her in, laying hands on her, demanding things of her. "So, what, you charmed your way into his good graces?"
"Lucy, the son he intended for you was there as well." Leo stands tall and turns to face her entirely. More serious than she had ever seen him. There is resolve deep in his eyes that never left her. "I couldn't let you be married off to that pathetic, impotent whelp."
His language was alarming. She met his eyes once more. There is something in his tone, a desperation perhaps, that grabbed her attention and held it taught like a bowstring.
"It took some work," he continued, "But with a bit more wine and yes, a little bit of charm, I convinced him to hand you off to me. My title is stronger. My name has more influence. He didn't have a single argument I couldn't counter."
"Leo, why?" She touched him for the first time since he came crashing back into her bubble, grasping at the mantle across his chest. Her blood was zinging like lightning and her brain was struggling to clear the fog. "It is not your place to fight for me. What you've done is crazy and ridiculous and goes against everything this city stands for." Her eyes were burning and her head ached. Her boundary was crumbling with the weight of everything forced upon her those last few days. She clung to him, desperately. "With my father dead, I don't even think he has left a dowry in place, and I-"
"Lucy, listen." He tried to bring her back. He large hands took hers and haphazardly peeled her fingers from the fabric. "That's what really won him over, Lucy. I told him I didn't need a dowry."
An almost inhuman sound escaped passed Lucy's lips as she pulled herself away from him and out of his grip. She felt completely blindsided and discombobulated, grief and exhaustion crashing into her all at once. Feelings she couldn't discern clawed at her chest and tried to peel back the ventricles of her heart.
"Why?" Was all she could muster. Nothing felt clear. A few tears rolled down her cheeks.
"I'm sorry this is a lot." He was urgent, unsure how to reel her back in after such a sudden outburst. "Please, understand Lucy. I promised when we were kids that I would protect you, don't you remember?"
She did remember. But that couldn't be all, could it? If that was his only reason to blindside her that way, then there was more to it than she would ever be willing to unearth.
He hesitated for another moment, seeing the distress overtaking her, steeling the bite in his chest. "I made that promise, and I meant it."
"We were just children." She exhaled. "We were silly children playing make believe before we knew what was coming for us."
"I still meant it, and I fully intended to keep it when I made it, I just didn't know how I could do that." He reached for her and she falteringly accepted the gesture. "I think this is how I can keep it."
Lucy remained quiet but her internal storm was slowly dying down. He was always so honest. She believed him back then, when he had no reason not to be so sincere. Could she believe him, trust him, now?
"I haven't seen you in years." She stated, like it would mean anything. "I'm not convinced Zeus himself hasn't possessed you."
"Look." He started again. "I need this too. A man of my status and position should be a married one. Its only a matter of time before I lose the respect of the public if I remain without a wife, and I can't risk that with the Spartans raging war against us. We need each other."
She understood. That part made sense, and felt like the final piece to the puzzle.
Leo curled his fingers around hers, an action a little more intimate than she was expecting, but she didn't have the strength to recoil. "I've never been the most traditional man. I know that normally you wouldn't have a choice her, but I am not without honour, so I am giving you one."
Lucy looked up at him again. Her eyes seemed unfocused and her face was tear stained. She was vulnerable, maybe a little broken, but her ears pricked at his words.
"You don't have to be my bride if it distresses you so much." He told her. "No matter what I think. I know this has been sprung on you at a very delicate time. If you would rather let your uncle decide on somebody else, then I will tell him that I withdraw my offer." A squeeze to her hand. She knew that's not what he wanted to do, as brave as he would be to do it, and do it willingly. "Your soul has always been too big for what your family had in mind for you. But I have space for it."
She peered into his eyes for a long time, taking it all in. All the grief. All the shock.
Then she considered it more. Could she do it? Would she be willing to take the Regulus name, to run his household, to bear his children? Would she be happiest that way? Would she be willing to come second to his job, especially now, when he was needed most? Was she willing to put her life in his hands, more than before?
She imagines her cousins, no matter which one her uncle had in mind, and the answer was clear.
All the pain, all the turmoil she had been feeling suddenly wiped away and was replaced with pure certainty. Something she had rarely ever had the luxury of feeling until that moment. It felt like borrowing Pegasus' wings.
Leo grunted as she throws her body into his in a tight embrace. There was nothing else she could have possibly done in that moment to express the song her soul was singing. Her arms wrapped around his torso and he gently returned the hold. Together they felt like kids again, with no duties and responsibilities.
"Thank you." She whispered into his chest. "You're still an idiot, but thank you."
Leo laughed, bright and charming, and reluctantly pulled away to look at her face. "Is that your decision?"
Lucy nodded, brain fog clearing to make room for the tall ray of sunshine that stood in front of her like a beacon of hope. "I'd rather my long lost friend over my, what was it, pathetic and impotent whelp of a cousin?" She smiled, really smiled, for the first time in a long time. "And you need a wife."
"Then its a deal."
They stood there on the terrace, holding each other for a long time, letting the breeze fan over them and the sun warm their skin. Their minds whirling. Its not the life Lucy ever would have wanted for herself, but at least she had a friend to live it with, no matter the circumstances. There certainly could have been far worse outcomes.
Leo, she thinks, could only be a blessing.
