The Loyal Spartan

The Fates must despise me. Every glimmer of hope they've dangled before me has been snatched away or tainted by their cruel hands. My first love was forced to marry another. My wife, Pavlina, was stolen too soon by the creeping shadow of cancer. A chimera claimed my right arm, and with it, my rank. Now... now I serve a snot-nosed ten-year-old brat.

 

I've learned judgment comes with consequences, but some lessons stick in your throat like bile. Still, it's hard not to pre-judge this heir of Ares when I knew his father. Nikos, Lord Zeus, is a bigger fucking asshole than Eugenius, Lord Ares, a feat I once thought impossible. So I could only imagine the arrogance in this boy's pedigree. Dangerous, too. The seers whispered he was destined to be the destroyer of Olympus. When I was introduced to my new miniature Lord, I strongly resisted the urge to wrap my last remaining hand around his throat.

 

"Hypatos…" Arete sighed, her voice a balm as she kissed my bare shoulder, her hand tracing the familiar map of scars across my chest.

 

I closed my eyes, trying to let the anger bleed out onto the hay beneath us. I wanted to let her touch soothe me, as it had so many times before. "His blood may run with Ares' fire," she whispered, her lips brushing a trail up my neck, "but fire needs fuel to burn. Without it…" She let the implication hang, a skill she'd perfected over years of loving me in secret.

 

"There's a difference…" I groaned, my hand caressing the curve of her naked hip, my thumb brushing the soft skin where her thigh met her rear.

 

Even in our fifties, after birthing three children, she remains one of the most beautiful women I've ever known. I don't mean that as a slight against my late wife, but Arete is my soulmate. The only reason we never married is that Eugenius forced her father to give her to him, and then, when he decided I was too close to his wife, he made me marry Pavlina.

 

"Your boys grew to be good men because they had you," I sighed. "Lady Gaiana was sent away as soon as that boy was weaned."

 

As a rule, we don't speak aloud what we both know: Erasmus and Eukleides are mine. I don't mention that her older boys carry my eyes, my jaw. It's safest for them, even now as adults, that Eugenius believes they are his.

 

"Perhaps. But now Androkles will have you. And I'll do what I can, too," she promised, kissing back down my neck, her tongue flicking out to taste the salt on my skin.

 

"I don't know how much your husband would like that. He barely liked you trying to raise your three boys," I teased.

 

She playfully pushed me back onto the pile of hay. I laughed, looking up at her as she shifted to straddle me, the hayloft smelling of sweet alfalfa and our sweat, a scent that had become more home to me than the stone walls of my own house.

 

"Don't talk about him. You'll ruin the mood," she teased, leaning over to kiss the scars that mapped my chest, her teeth grazing a particularly sensitive one.

 

I groaned, my fingers tangling in her dark locks. "Arete…"

 

Fuck. She's perfect.

 

I'll never get tired of watching her wrap those perfect lips around my cock. My head fell back with a groan. Her mouth feels so damn good. Even in these secret rendezvous, being with her is the only bright spot in these past years.

 

My breathing grew ragged as the pleasure mounted. She took me deep, her tongue swirling around the head before she hollowed her cheeks, sucking hard. The wet heat of her mouth was a heaven I knew I didn't deserve.

 

"I… I want you, Arete. I need… inside you," I groaned, tugging at her hair, the words barely coherent. "Ride me. Now."

 

"Steward Hypatos!" a child's voice echoed in the barn below.

 

Arete froze, my cock still in her mouth. Her hazel eyes widened as they locked on mine. My heart hammered against my ribs. The little brat had made my workday miserable, and now he would rob me of this, too?

 

"Hypatos!? I know you're in here! I was told someone saw you enter earlier," Androkles called out.

 

I groaned, looking at Arete, who was trying hard not to laugh. I narrowed my eyes. "This isn't funny," I whispered.

 

"It could've been worse," she whispered back, slowly releasing me with a final, teasing lick.

 

She had a point. It could have been her husband. We've had our share of close calls with Eugenius over the years. I'm sure it was because he suspected our affair that I was married off to Pavlina not long after Eukleides was born.

 

I'm certain he only brought me back to the main House to humiliate me by making me serve Androkles, thinking his wife wouldn't be interested in a one-armed man. It shows what little he knows. It doesn't matter how many limbs I have; I will always be Arete's one true love. He is someone she's forced to share a life with.

 

"I'll be there shortly, Lord Androkles. You may wait outside," I called out, my voice tight.

 

"Very well. But hurry up!" Androkles shouted.

 

I turned my head just enough to watch from the hayloft as his small figure left the barn. "Little fucking cock blocker…" I muttered.

 

Arete laughed softly, shifting to gather her clothes. "He's just a boy," she chided gently.

 

I rolled my eyes and sat up, reaching for my own clothes. "A boy that I hate. I'm now left with blue balls," I grumbled, the ache between my legs a sharp, throbbing reminder of what I'd been denied.

 

Arete chuckled, pulling me closer for a kiss. I knew she was trying to temper my anger, and even knowing her tactic, it worked. It's hard to stay angry when her soft lips are on mine. "I'll make up for it," she promised, her hand trailing down my chest to brush against my still-hard cock.

 

"Oh, is that so?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

 

"Mhm. Next chance we get," she assured me, caressing my cheek. "I'll let you do whatever you want to me."

 

"That won't be for another two weeks. We were lucky to sneak this much time away," I groaned.

 

Two weeks without her touch. Each night would stretch like a battlefield, and I'd already lost too many wars to count.

 

"You will survive, Hypatos. When I return from Euaristos's wedding, my husband will be held up in council meetings, and you can ravish me to your heart's content," she smiled.

 

"Mmm, I do like that idea. Fine. I should go before the boy comes back," I sighed, kissing her one last time, my tongue claiming hers in a final, desperate taste.

 

"Safe travels, my darling," I whispered as I pulled back and climbed down the ladder to find the boy waiting not far from the doors.

 

"Yes, Lord Androkles?" I questioned, standing at attention. I could hate Androkles all I wanted, but I had to show him respect. He was still the heir of Ares.

 

"You need to find Lady Arete," he stated.

 

I arched an eyebrow. "Is Lady Arete missing?" I asked, a knot of dread tightening in my stomach.

 

To him, it might sound like the concern of a soldier for his Lady. To me, it was the fear of discovery. The last thing we needed was for Lord Ares to learn of our affair.

 

"Her handmaiden said she went for a walk hours ago and hasn't been seen since. And Lord Ares has said we could not eat without her. Dinner is ready, and I am hungry. We didn't have to deal with such things back in my father's House," the boy huffed.

 

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Androkles' father had tossed his mother aside as soon as he could. Why would he follow the tradition that a meal cannot be served at an Olympian House without the Lord and Lady present? Of course, there was no such rule at House Zeus.

 

"I understand the dilemma. I am sure I can find Lady Arete for you, m'lord. Wash and find your seat at the table. I will bring her to you immediately," I bowed.

 

"Good. Be quick about it," Androkles nodded, his blonde curls falling over his face before he hurried back inside.

 

I waited until he was gone before ducking back into the barn. "Is he gone?" Arete called out from the loft.

 

"Yes. I have been instructed to find you and bring you to the dining hall. The boy is getting hangry. I would rather not deal with a hangry pint-sized Ares," I shrugged.

 

She laughed, and oh, how that laugh affected me. I groaned, the ache between my legs intensifying. I should be used to this. Even in the brief period before she was married off to Eugenius, we had to sneak around. Her father would have seen me in the arena if he'd known I'd been the one to deflower her months before her wedding.

 

I watched as she climbed down from the loft and fixed her hair. "You missed some," I teased, pulling a stray piece of straw from her hair.

 

She sighed, batted at my hand, then settled it on my arm. "Now then, Steward Hypatos. Thank you for finding me and waking me from my nap under that tree at the far edge of the property. Now, please escort me to the dining hall. I am famished," she smiled.

 

I sighed and steeled my expression as I escorted her to the dining hall. As I walked away from the barn, Arete's scent still clinging to my skin, each step toward the tavern felt like a betrayal. But the alternative, returning to my empty house, was worse.

 

My presence went unnoticed, as always, and I was excused to go home. Not that I was going to. What did I have to go home to? My wife was dead, and so were all her plants. My house is just a monument to all that I've lost.

 

Instead, I followed the path my feet knew so well to the doors of The Obnoxious Pegasus tavern. If I can't fuck Arete, I'll drown the sorrows of my blue balls.

 

I found a seat at a table alone, gesturing for a server. I barely paid attention as the same satyr girl who had served me for the last six years brought over a mug of ambrosia. I didn't even order. But I'm here practically every night since I was taken off active duty. I know I'm an alcoholic.

 

If not for Arete, I'd have spiraled out of control and drowned myself in a bottle long ago. And now I'm thinking of her, and the ache in my balls is back with a vengeance, followed swiftly by my anger at that cock-blocking brat.

 

"I cannot strangle a 10-year-old. I cannot strangle my future Lord Ares," I muttered into the glass as I downed it.

 

The ambrosia burned with divine fire, a reminder that even the nectar of gods couldn't wash away the bitterness of serving Ares' whelp while my own blood served another. I shook my head as the satyr refilled it.

 

"Nope, can't hurt him. But I can and will make that little shit's life hell. He will learn how much sweat it takes to be a Spartan truly," I vowed as I downed the refill.

 

Even the Fates themselves would struggle to weave a thread as tangled as mine. Bound to a goddess I could never claim, serving a god I despised, and haunted by ghosts of what might have been.