ok so this started out as just some normal octopath doodles, then my dumbass thought, huh ngl Temenos and Cyrus as a ship would be kinda cute/funny and uh, yeh we have this now
I need someone to draw Hera grieving over Temenus, her foster-father, after he dies, bc he's just a mortal man. Their dynamic is so tragic. He built statues and temples for her as she aged, watching her grow up every step of the way. But ultimately, she will live forever, and he cannot. Yet always will she find solace in her Stymphalian temple; when she has no one else, she still has his grave.
Imagine how foreign it would be, as a god, to look up to someone, to be reared by them, loved by them, and to think that they would always be there to guide and love you. And then, before you're even a hundred years old, they die.
a bulleted list of me trying to establish this family in my head:
We know Helen is five years older than Gen from the “Eddis” Extra in KoA because it says she is nine and that her thief was born four years ago.
We also know Temenus is the same age as Helen in the Thief (Temenus broke her nose when they were eleven)
So Temenus is also five years older than Gen
RotT calls Temenus the MoW’s oldest son, QoA calls Gen his youngest..
Stenides is presumably between them then; he comes off way older than 11-14 in Thief! but maybe that’s just Gen’s Ten Year Old Perspective. I would think he’s on the older end of that. We could even give him 15 if the birthdays line up right so that Temenus has a few months where he’s not exactly five years older than Gen lol (which is far more likely IRL)
Gen’s sisters are old enough to be married with multiple children (noted by both the Thief, where Gen mentions his sisters, and QoA, where they mention if Gen dies the title of Thief could presumably pass down to one of his sister’s children)
I think the way this works out in my head now is Gen has at least two sisters who are the oldest overall in the family, then there are three boys in quick succession, including Gen
(I stand by my personal h/c that Gen is not only the baby of his immediate family but also of the immediate First Cousins/grandchildren of his grandfather Eddis)
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Temenus was sitting next to Xenophon when Eugenides came into the tent the officers of Eddis’s army shared to discuss their strategies. At first, he thought it was the high king who entered, and so Temenus kept in his work, marking the map where his division would be in the next bout of fighting.
But Eugenides caught his eye, and then their father’s, and said, “Stenides is dead. There was an explosion in the foundry.”
It was not the high king who came, after all.
Temenus stared at Eugenides, searching for any sign of the pranks his little brother so liked to play. But surely, not even Gen would play at something like this.
Not even Gen would say that Sten was dead when he was not.
Stenides was dead. He was not supposed to be dead. He was supposed to be safe, back in the mountains of Eddis, away from this war they were waging. Out of the three of them, Temenus had always thought that it would be Sten who would live the longest. Temenus was the soldier, had known that it was his duty and obligation to become a soldier since he was a child. He had looked at his older sisters, all of them with their lives in front of them, and had looked at his younger brothers; Stenides with his clever hands and a mind that find numbers instead of weak spots and Eugenides with his cleverer hands and a disposition that marked him their mother’s child more than any of them; and decided that it was him who would follow their father’s footsteps.
He was the soldier, and Gen was the Thief, and Stenides was supposed to be the one who would live until he was old and grey, with his children and grandchildren cluttered around his seat, asking for stories.
Gods in the heavens above, what about the children?
Xenophon’s voice dragged him out of his thoughts. “Hector,” the old general said, addressing Temenus’s father, “I believe we are done for now. There is much to think about.” He stood, and Temenus moved to stand with him, because even though his brother is dead, even though the world has just tilted on its axis, Xenophon is still his general. But Xenophon simply pushed him back to his seat, and left, taking the rest of the generals and officers of Eddis’s army with him.
And then it was just the three of them, silently looking at each other.
There were no rites to perform. There may never be any rites to perform. The body was in the depths of the mountains of Eddis, and it was very likely that the three of them would join Stenides in Hephestia’s land rather than return to Eddis. It was war, after all. Any of them could die tomorrow.
The three of them were on the battlefield, where they could have died at any second, and it was Stenides, safe up in Eddis, who died first.
Perplexingly, it was Gen who broke the eerie silence inside the tent. He walked to the table at the center and placed a watch, one that Temenus recognized as one of Stenides’s work, on it. It was beautiful, and was Gen’s wedding gift from Sten. The green details, lovingly crafted against the gold background, showed the genius of Stenides’s mind upon forming patterns.
The watch, already precious before, was doubly so now, because there would never be anything quite like it ever again.
Gen grabbed Temenus’s hand, and then, after a short pause, offered his arm to Father. They stood surrounding the watch in silence, listening to it ticking the day away.
Temenus’s own watch felt heavy in his pocket, and he knew then, what to do. He took the watch from his pocket and laid it gently, very, very gently, next to Gen’s. After a few ticks from the watches on the table, synchronized, because Stenides was, no, had been, an expert watchmaker, Father took his own watch and laid it on the table.
Three watches, and all they had left of Stenides.
He didn’t know how many ticks had gone before Gen started to recite the prayer for the dead. It was not the rites that Stenides should have had, not even close, but this was what they could do, so far away from Eddis. Temenus joined in in the second repetition, and Father in the third. After even that was finished, they listened to the ticks of the watches again, beating steadily even when the man who made them had died.
Temenus didn’t know how long they stood there, listening to the watches, but eventually, Gen let go of his hand. His brother lifted the watch from the table and put it gently inside his pocket, and, with a final look towards the two of them, left.
Temenus stayed for a moment more in the tent with his father, and then, they too, left. It was not because of a lack of grief.
Gen was the high king now, and Father was the Minister of War for Eddis. They have duties to attend to, and Temenus, an officer in Eddis’s army, also have duties to attend to.
He was the soldier, and there was war to be fought tomorrow.
***
Temenus woke up with the feeling of being watched. He should be alarmed, should take his sword from his sheath and aim it at the intruder, but instead, he just scooted over to make space in his cot and lifted his blankets.
Only Gen could go through a tent full of battle-weary Eddissian soldiers and not wake a single one of them. Well, not wake a single one of them but the one he sought to wake.
His little brother, because it’s his little brother on the foot of his bed now, not the Annux over Attolia, Eddis, and Sounis, silently took his place on Temenus’s cot, and, after claiming his territory, curled up into a ball that somehow managed to not touch Temenus at all, even in the small cot they’re currently in.
Temenus sighed. He knew this too.
He laid the blanket on top of his little brother, and, slowly, coaxed Gen out of the ball he was in. It was painstakingly slow. Temenus was out of practice on coaxing little brothers, and besides, it hadn’t been him who coaxed Gen out of his tears back when they were children.
It had been Stenides, but Stenides was no longer here.
Finally, he got Gen’s head laying on his shoulders and Gen’s arm around his own, noticing that the deadly hook Gen always wore was not there. The sheets, where Gen’s face had been before, were wet. Temenus chose not to comment on that.
“I miss him too,” he whispered into the dark.
“Why couldn’t he have stayed making watches?” came the choked up response.
“You know why, Gen.”
Temenus felt his clothes getting wetter, but he hardly cared. He brushed his hand on Gen’s back, knowing that it was not his touch that Gen wanted.
“He should have stayed making watches,” Gen sobbed.
Temenus had no reply to that, so that was the last words said among them for the rest of the night. He kept his hand on Gen’s back, offering solace but at the same time seeking one for himself. His brother had died.
Stenides was dead.
Eventually, they must have fallen asleep, because Temenus woke the next morning alone in his cot, with his eyes and the sheets dry and an echo of two brothers in his arms.
I have 1 more siblings than Gen (Assuming he only has 2 sisters he could have heaps idk)
also @meganwhalenturner WHAT are Gen’s sisters’ names??? Every so often I get unhappy that we know both his brother’s names but only know that his sisters are married off being kinda honest housewives.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Summary: Five times the ruby earrings changed hands, featuring: the Queen Thief thieving, Gen wrecking havoc with his siblings, a raging at the gods™ episode, an obligatory palace sneaking scene, and finally, Gen’s kids wrecking havoc (with Gen).
The woman her father was courting was wearing ruby earrings, and she hated it. She always knew which items her father had stolen, even if she sometimes didn’t understand why, and these earrings bear the mark of her father’s hands.
This time, however, she could guess the reason her father had gifted that earring to this woman. In the year since her mother had died, her father had courted three different women. To give his children a mother, he had said, but she knew better.
None of the Thief’s current children were named after him and his god. None of the Thief’s current children fated to become the next Thief of Eddis.
Not even her.
She knew she had the god’s favour. Cleverness and skill she had in spades, more than any of her siblings, and when she jumped from roof to roof, she could feel the god’s hands guiding her. But she was not named after him, and so she would not be the next Thief.
She used to hate it, as a child. She would steal as many things as she dared, and she would place every single one of them on Eugenides’s altar, praying that the god would choose her to be the next Thief, if she showed him her skill and persistence. She gained a reputation that way, of being a thief as prolific, if not yet as formidable, as her father.
Her name still remained Vassilissa. The Thief of Eddis was chosen by the gods, and no one could change their decision.
She had learned to accept it, even if sometimes, when she placed her offerings on Eugenides’s altar, she wanted to scream and rage at the god. It’s not unheard of that the blessing from the God of Thieves skipped a generation.
She knew. She had checked every single record.
But her father would not stop trying. Since her birth, her mother had had two still-births, several miscarriages, and then finally, last year, had lost her life on the birthing bed, delivering yet another still-birth. Before the pyre had even cooled, her father had searched for a new wife.
Vassi had driven off the first two women easily. They were a regular at the court of Eddis, and when they realized that their belongings had disappeared and reappeared on the altar of Eugenides, they knew what it meant.
This one, however, was not a regular at the court, and no matter how many of her jewelry went missing, she did not catch the hint. She had stayed long enough for her father to give her the ruby earrings, and that brought Vassi back to this situation.
She had to steal it. The earrings. But no doubt her father had known about her part in driving off the last woman he had courted--He thought it was simple jealousy. For all the bragged about his mind being his best asset, sometimes her father could be exceedingly foolish--, and would do everything in his power to keep her from driving this one too.
Vassi didn’t mind. She loved the challenge.
In the end, it wasn’t even that hard. Whenever the earrings weren’t being worn, it would be under the guard of her father. The simple solution, then, was to steal them when they were being worn. A shy smile to the woman her father courted, a framing of her request to speak alone as a child who would like to know her future step-mother better, and a span of twenty seconds were all she needed. She showed up to the next court session with the ruby earrings on her own ears, carrying herself with all the grace of a queen.
They called her Queen Thief, then. A thief as formidable as her own father.
Her father courted no more women after that.
***
Temenus ran with all the speed he had in his body, cursing his siblings all the way, from Xenia to Euphemia to Iris and Penelope, to Alexis and all the way to Stenides.
Xenia had stolen their mother’s ruby earrings last week. Why, Temenus didn’t know, but that started the chaos. Mother had stolen the earrings back, of course, but chaos, like the waters of the Arachtus, cannot be stopped when it has started its journey.
Like clockwork, the day after Mother had gotten them back, Euphemia stole them from her. And then Iris had taken them from Euphemia. Which was then followed by Penelope stealing them from Iris. By that time, it had become the nightly entertainment for the court, to see which one of the women from the Minister of War’s family would show up wearing the ruby earrings.
And then Mother had stolen them back, again, and Stenides, sweet, sweet Stenides, had decided that it’s not fair that only the women could play, and told Temenus his intent to steal the earrings himself. Before Temenus could tell him what a horrible idea that was, his brother had dared him to steal the earrings too.
He had to accept. He should have known that it was futile to resist the call of chaos, especially when his mother was at the very center of it.
He cursed again, this time focusing the worst of it on Stenides. Why had his brother dared him to do it? And whose idea was it to measure a man’s courage by the insane bets he took?
The ruby earrings, rattling together in his pocket as Temenus ran, weighed down his leg with every step he took. The image of his mother, grinning delightedly as she caught him taking her earrings, weighed down the other one.
She had come into the room as he had closed the jewelry box. He expected her to take the earrings back immediately, but instead, she had smiled and lifted up her hand, all five fingers splayed out. Temenus had felt his body relax at the sight, but then, she bent one finger, leaving only four splayed out.
Temenus knew exactly what that meant. He pocketed the earrings and ran as fast as he could, leaving the false key he had used to open the jewelry box in the first place.
“Why are you running?”
The voice caused Temenus to jump. He looked around, searching for the source of the voice, but found no one. Then, his mind connected the voice to a face, and he looked up.
“Because I have Mother’s earrings in my pockets,” he told his youngest brother.
Eugenides gave him a shrug. “Then why run? She’d find you anyway.”
That was true, but Temenus was not going to say that.
“Are you going to help me or not?”
“Why should I?”
“Because I’m your brother, that’s why.”
“So should I go help Stenides?” Gen asked, voice full of the same mischief that decorated their mother’s face when she saw Temenus holding her earrings. Truly, Gen was their mother’s child, more than anyone else, though Xenia certainly tried.
“If you don’t want to help me, then don’t,” Temenus spitted out. He has no time to argue with his youngest brother. Either Gen would help him or not, nothing he said would sway the boy from his decision. Temenus took one more deep breath, preparing himself to run again. Gen was right, he wouldn’t be able to run from Mother forever, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t try.
Before he could run, however, Gen dropped down from the tree he was sitting on and smiled up at him. “I’ll help,” he said, the picture of innocence.
Temenus knew better than to trust the innocent face, but he had no choice. He took Gen’s hand and let his brother lead him through the courtyard and to the hidden passageways of the palace of Eddis.
When they were already so deep into the passageways that Temenus had no idea where they were, he turned around and saw that Eugenides was gone. Cursing, he put his hand into his pockets.
They were empty.
***
Eugenides looked up to the altar of his namesake, and clenched the ruby earrings tighter in his hands. He had stolen the earrings from his mother’s jewelry box just three days earlier, intending to present them to her with a smile and a glib comment about losing her touch.
She didn’t lose her touch, but she did lose her step, and the earrings stayed in his pocket throughout the funeral ritual and pyre.
The altar of Eugenides sparkled with the offerings from generations of Thieves. Near the front, Gen could see the fibula pins that were his grandfather’s offering, and scattered between them, the earrings that were his mother’s.
The ruby earrings burned in his hand.
A thief would only fall if her god drops her. So either Eugenides had dropped his mother, or…
“Or you don’t exist,” Gen said to the silent altar. He knew the sentence is heresy, especially said inside Hephestia’s temple, in front of her half-brother’s altar. But the other option was that Eugenides had dropped her. Eugenides had dropped his mother.
Gen clenched down even tighter on the ruby earrings, their points leaving indentations into his palm. Then, with a last look on the altar, he pocketed the earrings and turned around.
His grandfather’s words rang in his ears. Send a prayer as you start your work, send a prayer after you finish it, and leave a gift once a month on the altar of Eugenides. Gen had placed a gift on the altar this month, and he would do so again next month. The gods did not exist, or even if they did, they do not have any interest in lowly mortals such as themselves. But it would not do to abandon the tradition. He would leave a gift on the altar of Eugenides next month, just not these earrings.
Let the god of thieves have other earrings as gifts. This one, Gen would keep for himself.
***
With one hand outstretched, Gen carefully moved the velvet case containing the headband of the Queen of Attolia. She was beautiful, as she always was whenever Gen climbed into her chambers to look at her. Her face was expressionless, as it also always was, but in sleep, the lack of expression gave her a peaceful look, instead of the uncaring mask she wore whenever she wakes.
She suited the ruby inlaid in her headband marvelously. She would suit the earrings marvellously as well.
He had had the earrings remodelled, the design on the gold surrounding the ruby made to match the design on her headband. No one had asked what became of his mother’s ruby earrings after she died, and when he brought it to the goldsmith to be remodelled, the goldsmith did not recognize the earrings.
That was just as well.
The points on the earrings still left indentations on his hand. Gently, he opened his fist and placed the earrings, positioning them so that they are exactly next to the case.
Moonlight entered the windows of the queen’s chambers, dousing her features and softening them, making her look less like the stone statues of Hephestia and more like the girl who had danced under the orange trees, years and years ago. Eugenides wished that he could make her look like this all the time, and not just when she’s sleeping.
He stepped closer to the bed, drinking in the sight of her. A voice inside him urged him to reach out, to tangle his hand on her hair, but the more sensible voice inside him, one trained by years and years of practicing his trade, told him that to do so would be the most foolish thing he had ever done in a life full of doing foolish things.
He did not reach out. He stayed where he was, looking to the Queen of Attolia, watching as she drew in breath after breath. When the moonlight had dimmed, signalling that dawn was fast approaching, he nudged the earrings one last time, arranging them so that they looked as pleasing next to the case as he could, and climbed out of the queen’s chambers.
It would be foolish to think that the queen would wear his earrings, but then again, he made a living out of doing foolish things.
***
“My King,” Attolia said, not moving from where she was seated as her attendants did her hair. By now her attendants knew well enough the antics of her husband, and did not think if out of the ordinary that the queen was speaking to what seemed to be empty air. “Do you know where my ruby earrings are?”
Materializing out of nowhere, Attolis replied, “I thought they’re in your jewelry box?”
“They were,” his wife answered. “They are not anymore.”
Waving the attendants out of his way, Attolis made his way to the queen and placed the last of the pins in her hair. He took one look at the box, which was currently laid out on the queen’s dressing table for her to choose which jewels she would like to wear today. The ruby earrings were not the grandest of the jewelry inside the box, but they were very conspicuous in their absence.
“Oh,” the king breathed out. “She does grow bold.”
*
“Your Highness,” Costis called out to the seemingly empty tree in the courtyard of the palace of Attolia. “Please come down.”
No response.
“Your Highness,” he tried again.
This time, a small face appeared from between the leaves. “Shh, Costis!” the princess of Attolia said. “You’re going to get us caught!”
“Your Highness,” Costis said again, flashing back to all the times he had done this for the king. “I’m sure there is no one who would want to catch you.”
Just as he said that, however, another small figure appeared out of nowhere. “Nia!” the prince of Attolia cried out as he ran towards his sister. How he managed to evade the squad of guards assigned to guard him, Costis would never know. The same way his sister escaped hers, he supposed. “You have it!”
“No, I don’t!”
“Yes, you do!”
“No, I don’t!”
“Yes, you do! Why else are you in a tree?”
The princess changed her tactics immediately, the same way Costis had once seen Attolis do. “So what if I do?”
“You said we would get them together!” Hector protested.
“You’re too slow!” his sister retorted back.
“I’m not! You just keep leaving me!”
“If you can’t keep up, then you’re too slow, Hector,” Attolis said from somewhere behind Costis. Costis did not relax though. Not yet. It was always a toss on whether Attolis would curb his children’s behaviour or give them pointers on how to escape their flustered guards and caretakers running behind them.
Well, not really. Mostly the king would give pointers.
“And you don’t leave anyone behind, Eugenia,” the king continued, walking past Costis to the base of the tree. “A good companion is rare for a thief. You must take care of them.” He tilted his head up, and Eugenia, without even looking, jumped down to her father’s waiting arms.
“He’s too slow,” the princess said again. Hector, who had placed himself next to his father, complained. Loudly.
The king let out a snort of amusement. Ignoring the complaints from his son, he extended his hand towards the princess raised an eyebrow.
Scowling, the princess reached into her pockets and took out a pair of ruby earrings. Costis felt his eyes grow wide. Those are the queen’s ruby earrings, the pair that she wore more than any other earrings. There were many rumours surrounding that pair of earrings, and Costis was privileged enough to know that some of them did have a basis in truth.
Costis expected the king to pocket the earrings himself, but, as always, Attolis’s actions could not be predicted. He pulled the princess close and put the earrings on her ears, navigating them easily even with one hand.
Costis would never tire of watching his king doing things that never should have been possible with one hand.
After the earrings were in place, Eugenides brushed a hair out of her daughter’s face and pressed a kiss on her forehead. Then, after a shriek of protest, smiled and did the same for his son. The children then talk over each other, both of them eager to tell their father about the adventures they had today.
From his place behind his king and the princess and prince, Costis stood watch.
