τέλος

  Kephallonia Islands, 431 BCE

Their house was small, but neither woman minded. Calista, despite having grown up in a larger home due to her father’s incredibly successful vineyard, found she much preferred the cozy feeling her home with Kassandra gave her. The simplicity of it was soothing and, the best aspect, it was far from the village.

 Two years ago she’d met Kassandra in the woods and told her about the vultures picking her meat from her bones while she still lived, and a year and a half later the misthios had rescued her from their talons. Their life together had been mostly peaceful, if one could ignore the harassment from Cyclops’ men, the fact that they were always having to clean up Markos’ messes, and that Kassandra’s job had her coming home covered in cuts and bruises more often than not. Life wasn’t easy, but they were happy. 

A few months into their romance, Kassandra finally told Calista of her origins. She could tell her lover was nervous to tell her she was secretly a Spartan, but she hadn’t even blinked. ‘I thought that was obvious,’ she’d deadpanned, earning her a fond eyeroll and a hug. Kassandra being a Spartan hadn’t phased her, but hearing how multiple Spartan leaders had tossed her baby brother off of Mount Taygetos before dooming Kassandra to the same fate had certainly thrown her for a loop. It was what had convinced her that her lover was more than a mere mortal, for no man could have survived such a thing as a child- or even fully grown. 

The story was tragic, something out of a nightmare, but part of Calista took comfort in it. If Kassandra could survive the fall from a mountain top as a child, she could survive anything. And while she might have lost her family that night, and Calista could never take their place, she was no longer alone. Neither of them were. 

Calista’s parents had died a little over a year past, and she’d never been so thankful for Kassandra’s strength as she was on the day she’d found out. Her pater and mater had gone to Athens to visit Calista’s grandfather, Neocles, and never returned. Unfortunately, their trip to the capitol happened to coincide with a terrible outbreak of the plague and it claimed the only family Calista had left. Her mother, her father, her grandfather, all sent to Hades by the horrible sickness. 

They’d lost everything- their homes, their families- but they found both in each other. 

Their small home was two stories, the upper of which being open to the elements except for the wood and straw roof that was supported by four tall poles and provided shelter from Helios’ powerful rays. They were sitting there in the shade, a breeze rushing around them, when everything began. 

Kassandra was sat propped against the wall, her ever present spear head gripped in her hand as she turned it in inspection. Calista was just before her with her legs folded to the side, watching as the sunlight glinted off the sharp bronze metal. Her dark waves were loose around her shoulders except for the very upper section, which was plaited in a simple crown around her head, and her peplos was a soft lilac today with her feet bare beneath it. They were at peace, the quiet being one of comfort as they soaked in each other’s presence and contemplated the start of their day. But, true to fashion, their peace couldn’t last. 

“Hey, shitface!” A rough voice shouted from below, causing Kassandra to heave out an annoyed sigh. “Get down here!” 

Calista moved to lean forward so she could peer- more like glare- down at their unwelcome guests, but Kassandra’s hand shot out to rest firmly on her thigh,  her eyes full of warning. The smaller woman sighed, but nodded in reluctant agreement. The misthios squeezed her thigh once in thanks and reassurance before she turned to look at the lackeys on her property. Cyclops’ men. Of course. 

Kassandra pushed onto her feet with a sigh and slid the spear tip back into its holster between her shoulders. She didn’t say anything to the two men below, her quirked brow all that was needed before they once again began shouting. 

“Cyclops’ got a message for you!” Kassandra didn’t respond before bending at the knees and gracefully leaping from the second story onto the hard packed dirt below, earning her an eye roll from her lover. 

“So dramatic.” Calista whispered as she moved over to the simple square hatch on the floor that led into the house below, swinging it open to reveal the ladder propped beneath to make their egress easier. She could hear the sounds of a fist hitting flesh and then Kassandra cursing, causing her to let go of the sides of the ladder and simply drop the rest of the way to the floor.  The bottoms of her bare feet stung lightly from the impact, but she paid them no mind as she swiftly darted over to the parazonium (1) resting on a small, nearby table. It had been her father’s and it was clearly expensive, engraved and decorated as it was, with a blade that was nearly as long as her forearm and wicked sharp. 

Calista ducked down to keep out of sight and quietly sped over to the square cut out in the wall near the door. Swords had been drawn, and the sound of metal against metal was impossibly loud as the blades clashed furiously together. There were two of them and one of Kassandra, but those odds were nothing to her ἐρώμενος (erṓmenos- beloved) , so she’d keep herself out of sight so as to not become a distraction or a target, but she’d also be prepared. While her skills in battle might be nowhere close to those of Kassandra, she could hold her own if she needed to and she wouldn’t hesitate to help if it was called for. 

The battle was quick, Kassandra dispatching the threat with ease before straightening up and rubbing at her wrists. “This shit happens every week, I can’t keep doing this or Calista is going to get caught up in it.” With the threat dead, said woman moved from her post at the window to swing open the door and take in her lover talking to Ikaros. “Thanks for the warning.” 

“Are you done playing with Cyclops’ men, ἐρώμενος?” Calista grinned mischievously, knife still clutched in hand, and the grin only grew when Kassandra turned to face her with a quirked brow and a hand clutching at her clearly broken nose. “I’m thinking we should go to the Αγορά (agora) (2) for deipnon (3).” She stepped from the doorway and moved over to take a look at her lover’s nose, but their attention was quickly drawn to the young girl bouncing their way. 

“What happened to you?” She asked as she skidded to a stop, her head tilting in question as she peered up at Kassandra’s bloody face. 

“It’s nothing, Phoibe.” She reassured, wincing when Calista pulled her hand away from her nose so she could get a good look. “All taken care of now.” 

“The Cyclops again, huh?” The young urchin who’d wiggled her way into their hearts asked rhetorically, looking down at the defeated men still sprawled out before the house. “Hasn’t he learned his lesson yet?” 

“That would require him having intellect, Phoibe.” Calista chimed in, handing the parazonium over to Kassandra to free up her hands. The little girl laughed, the sound almost masking the snap -ing sound of Calista forcing Kassandra’s nose back into line. The tall, broad, warrior of a woman winced and yelped in pain, smacking the smaller woman’s dainty hands away dramatically. “Oh hush,” Calista chided as she stepped away and took her parazonium back. “You didn’t even flinch when you actually got the broken nose.” Before she could respond, Calista turned away and reached out a hand to Phoibe, her smile bright. “Are you hungry, ΜΙΚΡΟΣ (mikros- little one) ?” She led her towards the house with her small hand held tenderly in her own, Kassandra trailing behind them and giving one of the prone bodies a kick as she passed by. 

They left the door open so Ikaros could follow them in if he wished to, and Calista had Phoibe sit on one of the two chairs arranged around the small table in their eating area before striding off into the kitchen. She could hear Kassandra and Phoibe lightly bickering as she collected up some bread, some roasted fish, and an apple. She placed it all on a simple old plate and poured some of their set aside drinking water into a chalice before bringing the meal out to their little guest. 

Phoibe was another little rugrat that Markos had taken under his wing, much like he’d done with Kassandra, and the little girl had become like a daughter to the couple. She tended to bounce between their home and Markos’, the three adults taking responsibility for her wellbeing. “Here you go, ΜΙΚΡΟΣ. The bread is a bit hard, but the flavor of it is still good.” She placed the plate and chalice in front of a thrilled Phoibe who thanked her excitedly before digging in. Kassandra was leaning against the wall near a window with her arms folded and a smile across her face as she watched the interaction, the two women sharing a loving look over the little girl’s head before Calista slid into the free chair across from Phoibe and in front of Kassandra.  

The girl practically devoured the food placed before her, earning a snort from Kassandra. “You’re going to choke.” 

Phoibe shot her a look and didn’t slow, shoving another chunk of bread into her mouth as a familiar shriek pierced the air. They all turned to look towards the door as the beating sound of flapping wings became audible and a moment later a gold blur came swooping through it. Ikaros navigated the room with familiarity, stopping for a moment to perch on Kassandra’s shoulder and give her a loving peck before landing on the table beside the food covered plate. Phoibe giggled as the majestic bird began to peck at her plate, partaking in the meal with no hesitation, and she reached out to gently pet him. 

“You hungry too, Ikaros?” Her earnest eyes moved off the bird and over to Kassandra, the woman she practically worshiped.  “Do you think Zeus would bless me with an eagle? Like he blessed you, Kassandra? Maybe you could ask him for me!” 

The excitement and innocence in her voice brought a smile to both women’s faces. “I’ll try to put in a good word for you.” The misthios replied fondly, pushing off the wall and stepping forward to put one hand on the back of Calista’s chair and the other reaching out to ruffle the young girl’s hair. 

It was a common tale told on the islands, that Kassandra’s beloved eagle was a gift from Zeus. She always denied it- to everyone but Phoibe anyhow- saying she’d done nothing to earn the favor of the Lord of the Skies. But something in Calista knew that Ikaros was far more than the average eagle- his coloring was unique, his eyes held intelligence beyond what should be possible, and  his dedication to his mistress was unmatched, not to mention the convenient way he showed up at the worst moment of Kassandra’s life, all telling Calista that Zeus Panhellenios (4) had sent Ikaros to watch over her ἐρώμενος. For this she sent her thanks up to him every night, and regularly brought him offerings at the Temple of Zeus in Sami. 

Kassandra believed she had been abandoned by the Gods for her inability to protect her little brother all those years ago. But Calista had been raised being told she was beloved by the Gods, that she was their chosen and blessed one, and she knew Kassandra was too. It was the only explanation for her inhuman strength and prowess in battle, not to mention her ability to heal so quickly, and her regality. They were meant for great things, and Calista was more than happy to be Kassandra’s faith and hope as they went through their trials, as she had enough for the both of them. 

“Finally!” Phoibe cheered, clapping her hands together excitedly. 

Calista laughed, tilting her head back to peer up at Kassandra. “She’s been hoping for that response the last hundred times she’s asked.”

Kassandra shook her head with a soft smile and visibly contemplated leaning down to press a kiss to Calista’s upside down lips, but the question that had been nagging them both since Phoibe’s arrival apparently took precedence. The young girl was supposed to be with Markos today, she wasn’t supposed to come over to theirs until tomorrow afternoon, so why was she here early? 

“So,” Kassandra started, “what are you doing here?” The question wasn’t unkind, but it was perhaps a bit blunter than Calista would have liked. The raven haired woman delivered a light reprimanding slap to Kassandra’s stomach and shot her a warning look.

“Oh!” Phoibe exclaimed, her back straightening and her eyes widening. “I almost forgot! Markos is looking for you, Kassandra.”

“What does that weasel want now?” 

Calista laughed at that, nose wrinkling in amusement. “He might be an ἰδιώτης (idiōtēs- idiot, see footnote for etymology) (5) ,Kassandra, but his heart is pure. He took you in, after all.” 

“He means well.” Phoibe agreed, grinning at the woman sitting across from her. “But I don’t know why he’s looking for you. He wants you to meet him at his new house… or vineyard.” 

At that Calista sucked air through her teeth and turned to look up at her lover in a bit of concern that ended up being justified when Kassandra’s brows furrowed in anger. “What? A vineyard? Maláka! (wanker, asshole, dickhead, but can pretty much be used in place of any swear) ”

Phoibe nodded and nibbled on the last bite of fish remaining on her plate. “It’s on the road to Sami. He says wine will make him rich!” 

“Since when can Markos afford a vineyard?” Calista asked bewilderedly, eyes wide and her brows furrowed as she peered up at Kassandra who’s ire was apparent. 

“Never. When did he acquire this vineyard, Pheebs?” 

The young girl shrugged. “Yesterday, I think?”

“So Markos, who owes me drachmae, is buying vineyards?” 

“With what money?!” Calista tacked on, turning from the woman standing behind her and back to Phoibe, who shrugged once again. 

“I don’t know.”

“Well,” Kassandra started, her voice hard and her eyes narrowed, “I guess I owe Markos a little visit. Thank you, Phoibe.” 

The misthios turned to look down at Calista, the two desperately needing to talk about this recent development, but Phoibe’s pointed cough drew their attention back to her. Both women arched a brow at the sight of her expectant look and the way she had a hand stretched out in waiting. She was becoming a little misthios already, and neither woman liked the thought even if they found her antics amusing. 

“Here you go, ΜΙΚΡΟΣ.” Calista chuckled, pulling a coin from a small drawstring bag tied to her belt and tossing it into her outstretched palm. The little girl quickly closed her hand around the drachma and pulled it tight into her chest, her face stretched into a beaming smile. 

“I’ll go tell Markos you’re coming!” She stood from her chair before turning to dart from the house and down the road leading towards Sami, and apparently Markos’ new vineyard. 

“She is something, isn’t she?”

“She becomes more of a troublemaker everyday.” Kassandra agreed with a chuckle, dropping down into the newly vacant seat across from her. 

“That’s because she becomes more like you everyday, πολυαγαπημένος (polyagapiménos- darling) .” A groan of pain coming from where they’d left the unconscious rogues interrupted whatever her response was going to be and caused Kassandra’s head to snap that way, her muscles tensing. “Well,” Calista stated simply and rose to her feet before reaching forward to pick up Phoibe’s abandoned plate and chalice, “I’ll clean up in here and find some shoes. You go deal with our friends, and then we’ll go see what Markos wants.” Kassandra gave her a solid nod and pushed her chair away from the table to stand, her steps determined as she strode away. 

It didn’t take Calista long at all to clean off the one plate and cup, and only a couple of minutes later she was moving back to her’s and Kassandra’s room to slip on a simple pair of shoes. The pair she chose were plain slippers and gold in color, not that they were ever truly visible except for in extremely short intervals with each step. 

“Calista? The men are gone.” She turned around to see Kassandra stepping into the room and moving to lean against the doorway. 

“Did they put up a fight or are they at least a tad smarter than their boss and learned their lesson the first time?” 

“It seems they’re smarter than their employer.” She pushed off the wall and strode over to her in two long strides to wrap her arms around her waist and pull her close. “I’m going to kill Markos.” The words were grumbled into the crook of Calista’s neck, Kassandra having buried her face there in search of comfort. 

“Do not fret, ἐρώμενος.” She reached up to curve her hand gently around the back of the taller woman’s neck, her other hand cupping the small of her back. “You will get what you are owed from Markos.” 

“Where the fuck did he get money for a vineyard?” Kassandra exclaimed, pulling back to look her in the eye.

The question was mostly rhetorical, as neither knew for sure and both knew they weren’t going to like the answer, but Calista still voiced their mutual thought. “Nowhere good.” 

1. A parazonium is a long triangular dagger, wide at the hilt end and coming to a point. Carried by Grecian soldiers as a last resort weapon in the case that they’d lost their spears. Most often found on Spartan men’s belts. A replica of one can be seen here.

2.  Agoras were the main markets in Ancient Greece, and they had stalls selling food and drinks for shoppers to enjoy while walking around. They often also had musicians playing and an evening at the agora was a whole event

3. The main meal of the Ancient Greeks, eaten in the late afternoon or evening 

4. An epithet for Zeus that denoted his role as king, judge, and protector of all Greeks, protector being the aspect Calista is truly leaning into here

5.  Ἰδιώτης in ancient greek originally meant a ‘private person/individual’ rather than one holding office or a politician. Eventually it was used simply to mean ‘a common or unskilled man’ and then ‘ignorant’