A child of eight when he’d been stolen from the shores of Colchis, nine years had elapsed. Nine long, brutal years that produced a long, lanky, brutal boy. Manhood was staring him in the face but though he fought facial hair it was still sparse . His cheekbones were angular and cheeks too thin for his elongating jaw. The muscles of his teenage frame were strong and sinewy. He had the wide shoulders but without the age to fill them out properly. He was stuck, in short, between boy and man and looked it. Dark hair as wild and unruly as he was, curling and crisp with sea salt, it hung in his eyes and he pushed it back impatiently. The curls sprang forward again, undeterred.

While the Aceton navigated the churning waters surrounding the islands of the Hydra’s Teeth, Lukos was on deck, both hands gripping a line of rope as he pulled when told. A fountain of spray gushed over the side of the ship, soaking his boots and pants. Saltwater stung his eyes but he blinked it away, taking little notice of it. They were almost past the whirlpool and from there it was a tight right turn into the natural harbor of the island’s lagoon.

”Hold!” Sophos’s bark rolled across the deck. Lukos glanced at him to find the captain’s glare boring into him...past him. Swiveling his head, he saw Typhian struggling with his own lines. He looked in danger of letting them slip through his hands. If that happened, the sail would lose its tautness and allow the wind to escape. The line would swing around and possibly lash onto one of the sailors on deck, killing them or injuring them. Typhian didn’t answer back but he was definitely losing grip.

“Let go and you’re a dead man!” Lukos snarled at him, having no wish to be the one to catch that rope in the face. If they lost the wind, they’d lose their ability to turn as sharply as they needed to into the lagoon and they risked crashing into the rocks extending into the deeper waters just past the island. Typhian glowered at him but didn’t argue. Captain Sophos had already thrown one of their friends overboard only six months ago for ‘lack of ability’. The two had been in a full on shouting match when it happened, Mellios defending why he’d been unable to obey insane orders. Then he’d found himself upended and tossed overboard. Captain Sophos had refused to turn the ship around. The first mate had flung out a buoyant scrap of planking but they’d never come across Mellios again. Lukos looked for him from time to time in ports but it was likely that he’d succumbed to the ocean.

Through sheer force of will, Typhian kept hold of the line. Once the ship rounded the bend, with Sophos pulling bodily on the tiller, and the ship sailing into the tranquil glass clear water, Lukos relaxed. They’d not been dashed on the rocks. With the easing of tension did not come the easing of tasks. Sailors moved wordlessly about their tasks, hauling up the rigging, fastening down hatches, coiling rope - seeing to all the random tasks to ‘put the ship to rest’ as Lukos thought of it.

Despite coming here by force, he felt like this was home. He didn’t miss the ugly coast of Maganea, nor the grit and dirt of its mines. He didn’t miss the emaciated miners or the oppressive heat underground. The constant ringing of pickaxe on stone, the ping, ping, ping of hammer on wedge, the stench of body sweat in confined, claustrophobic crevices of earth...he’d been too young to swing any pickaxe but he’d carried water and dragged out baskets of heavy stone.

That life belonged to someone else when he looked around the crescent lagoon. The island really did have the peculiar shape of an upside down tooth. A gently rolling base rose up to a dull point in the middle of the island, though it only looked like a tooth from this angle. The far side was sheer black cliffs, only reachable by going through a derelict temple that no one used. Gods were forgotten on this little speck of paradise. They didn’t need gods. The soil was good here, rich and dark and able to grow abundantly enough to keep the island’s inhabitants from starving. There was a small forest surrounding the island’s base and around the lagoon, a swath of soft, pristine white sand.

Trees whispered to each other in the distance but he couldn’t hear over the noise of the islanders streaming towards the ship, the thud of boots on the deck, and the bellow of orders. Lukos headed down into the dim, murky depths of the cargo hold and came up with sacks of grain. He helped to roll up the empty water barrels and steered them down onto the dock where, he assumed, he’d later roll them to the spring to fill them up. He was just wrestling one of the huge barrels into a standing position when he heard a familiar, snide voice behind him.

”Hey berry breath! Do you want your clothes or do I have to toss them into the ocean for you to fish out?”

“Or,” he snarled over his shoulder. “You can quit being a mother bitch and leave them at the hut!” The hut he shared with Typhian catty corner to Billa’s house. He’d shared it with Mellios, too, until, of course, six months ago. Mellios’s hammock hadn’t been taken down by the other two. It still hung in its corner and sometimes Lukos stared at its dark, looping shadow at night when he was in the hut, wondering if he’d make it to eighteen, or if he’d be tossed overboard for some minor indiscretion, too. Life was so pointless and stupid.

He’d grown progressively angrier in the last six months, too. His aggression rarely had a proper outlet and Skylla was giving him ample opportunity to let his temper rage. “If you throw them in the lagoon I’ll break your fingers.”

He was still messing with the barrel and didn’t see her extending her arm to let his clothes hang over the water. ”I’m just following orders,”.

“Orders?” he scoffed, still messing with the barrel. “Since when do you follow orders?” Sweat trickled along his temple and he lifted his arm, wiping the side of his face against the wet sleeve of his upper arm. A shimmering smear of water painted his cheek as he looked around for her. She’d grown since he was last here a few months ago. They’d been gone a long time but he didn’t notice her height right then except to understand the longer reach she had.

It took him a second to understand that she really did mean to throw his clothes in the lagoon and he stepped forward, thinking he’d grab her by her arm and jerk her off her feet, thus saving his clothes. Skylla was too quick. His hand clamped onto the space she’d been occupying a fraction of a second before. Then there was the splash. He blinked and took one step back but he knocked into Catos who grunted at him to mind his business and watch where he was going.

Sailors and children and wives milled around. Their voices rose and fell in little knots of conversations he wasn’t listening to. His focus was on the wild haired miscreant who held his clothes up as though offering them to him, but she was too far away to reach. Even if he wrapped an arm around one of the pylons and stretched out his arm with splayed fingers, she’d still be a good three feet from him.

“Give them to me,” he snapped. “Dry,” came the immediate amendment.

“See? I could leave them at the hut but where is the fun in that when I could just come to see you for myself?”

“I am going to kick your ass,” he vowed, crouching on the dock. There was no way he was getting in that water. His eyes dropped away from her face and onto the billow of fabric that floated on top of the water in humps and lumps while other bits sank below. Because the water was so clear, Skylla’s bare legs were visible, though distorted at this angle. Lukos stood up abruptly and moved further down the dock, looking at her legs but he still couldn’t get them into focus.

Why the fuck did he want to see this skinny urchin’s legs? He’d never ever cared about seeing them before but he’d had the sudden image of a woman’s bare ass flash into his mind when he saw her dress floating and realized that probably, at the correct angle and distance, hers would be visible. This was such an outlandish notion that he squinted around, wondering what he was even doing. Had something taken over his body a few seconds ago? Who cared about Skylla’s legs.

“Give me my clothes, Skylla.” He held out his hand, palm opening and closing impatiently. His feral expression promised retribution no matter what she did. He didn’t enjoy being toyed with by this brat, but she was nothing if not persistent.

Her clothes did cling to her, hiding nothing but the most important parts. Seventeen and full of raging hormones, he couldn’t and didn’t hide the outright staring. Lukos had already had dealings with whores and slaves. This was not new territory for him but that was part of the problem. He knew what to do and what he wanted but hadn’t had an outlet in several weeks. Skylla had never entered his head and she still hadn’t. Not truly. But his eyes remained on her ass as she streaked towards Billa’s hut.

Tearing after her, sand spraying up behind him. It was slower going for him with his heavy boots but his legs were longer and soon he was close enough to reach out and grab her. Normally he’d have gripped her by the hair and yanked her back onto the sand. They’d have sprawled out, tangled up in each other but there wouldn’t have been anything in it. It’d have been biting and hissing and spitting and hitting, like two feral cats rolling around in an alleyway, fighting.

Lukos didn’t snatch her by the hair. He dropped his pace enough to let her get out of his reach and simply kept chasing her. They raced through the village, having to dodge old Shella, weave around lanky Euphrius, nearly bowl over Typhian. Lukos chased her through the main thoroughfare of the ramshackle village, out the other side onto the wide strip of beach where the huge bones of an old ship lay half submerged. But then they were rounding back and making another lap through, though taking a sharp left down to the blackberry bushes.

By now Lukos was getting a bit winded. He could row with the best of them and for hours, but he didn’t often run for extended periods of time. A stitch lanced under his ribs and he rasped for breath. Gods she was fast. He could have overtaken her easily before but now he was actually flagging. “Give. Me. My. Clothes,” he panted at her, finally coming to an unstable stop on the path.

They’d burst through the blackberry bushes, leaped over the tiny, trickling creek, and were beneath the mottled shade of the trees that made up the forest beyond. The ground was sandy and free of bracken. There was no great place to hide, here. The trees were far apart and not terribly tall, and they were still close enough to the village to hear someone’s loud, braying laugh.

Lukos breathed hard through his mouth, straightening up and still holding his side as he glowered at her, waiting for her to make the right decision.

Only his eyes followed her as she leaned against the tree trunk. The sun cast the contours of her neck and shoulders in a glowing outline. The drop of sweat rolling down between her breasts shimmered and his eyes followed its path. When the hell did she get those? He dragged his attention towards her hand as she held out the wrinkled ruin of his clothing.

“Since you asked so nicely.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, not trusting this sweet smile she shot in his direction. If he knew Skylla, and he did, as soon as he tried to take them, she’d toss them in the dirt, stomp on them, and them streak away. He’d chase her and give her a solid thrashing until she cried, and then she’d just have to wash the clothes again. Then he would wake up in the middle of the night to her sneaking into the hut to put them where she should have done in the first place. This wasn’t a new thing.

Edging towards her, he snatched at the clothes, successfully getting them into his arms, but he kept squinting at her. What kind of fucking game was she playing at now? He was completely confused and looked it. “Welcome home, Lukos.” She winked and he tilted his head. If he’d been a dog his ears would have perked forward in abject loss as to what in Pan’s name was going on.

“Some fucking welcome,” he muttered, throwing her another bewildered look over his shoulder as he turned towards the familiar path that would lead them back to the blackberries. Their chase was over for the time being and Lukos was just sweaty and tired, now. Plus he smelled and he wanted to wash the stench of the ship off himself before he ate. He didn’t like it when Billa made pointed remarks about his hygiene and being a teenager, he definitely needed a bath.

He left Skylla and went to his hut, stashing his clothes except for one pair, and taking a towel with him. Then he was off to the cold springs. There were two such places on this island. One was used for fresh water and fed the little creek that ran behind the village, and the other was for bathing. No one ever spent terribly long at the bathing springs. The water was bone chilling and even on hot days like today, it could make a person shiver violently after only a few minutes.

Lukos set his clothes down on a rock and peeled off his tunic and pants. He’d probably give his boots a good soak, too. Stepping down into the spring, he instantly clammed up. “Shit that’s cold,” he muttered. Within a minute or so he was shivering and his teeth clattered as he dipped down under the water. His fingers raked through his hair and he washed as quickly as humanly possible with the bar of soap he’d brought with him. He scrubbed his body and was back out of the water within five minutes.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he swore and teetered over to his towel. The air was positively divine compared to the spring and soon he was thawing out. He pulled on his pants and billowy, faded red shirt, and walked barefoot back along the path to his hut. From there, stowing his things and still barefoot, he made his way to Billa’s hut where he was expected to be.

He was no favorite of Billa’s but for whatever reason, she kept feeding him long after she’d stopped feeding the other boys that Sophos had stolen. Children often came to her door for treats. Typhian stayed away from her hut, calling her a witch. But Typhian had a family that had sort of adopted him on the island. He tended to drift towards them while Lukos simply never stopped going to the first one. He didn’t like Billa, she didn’t like him he thought, but here they were. Eating together.

During the meal, Lukos spoke very little and only when addressed by Captain Sophos, who was in the middle of telling Billa the most atrocious stories of their travels. Lukos did not feel guilty whenever Sophos detailed any of the sordid details he’d liked to put some of the brattier slaves through on the voyage. Lukos was one of the ones Sophos liked to involve in the escapades.

Lukos stabbed his cut of meat and said nothing at all. He’d only say ‘yes’ or ‘no’ or ‘she cried a lot’ if Sophos asked him to supply more details. He worked on inhaling his food and then he was charging out of the house, into the growing darkness. There was wine, somewhere, had to be, and he went over to his empty hut to figure out if he’d stashed a bottle somewhere.

Lukos was on his hands and knees, digging around for the bottle. He knew he’d buried it somewhere but the question was where? It wasn’t in this corner and he felt sure that it had been when they’d left. Had someone come in here while he was gone? It was possible. Likely, even. The next three corners also produced no wine bottle and he was sitting back on his knees with his back to the door when Skylla came in.

”Lukos? Can I come in?” her voice sounded high and clear to him, but purposefully soft, like she was trying to be gentle. It set him on edge because it was entirely different to what their interactions had been before. He looked over his shoulder at her silhouetted by the faint torchlight out in the street and nodded. The hut was comfortably dark and he was aware of her every movement. She crossed the threshold and edged into the single room. “If I have to listen to them all night I might vomit.”

“I was looking for wine,” he said to her, standing as he did so and dusting the sand off his trousers. He took a step closer to her and touched the basket she held. “What’s this for?” His fingers roughly tipped and tripped through the collection of shells she had. He snorted. “Who wants this stuff? Why do you bother?” Falling back on the meanness was easy but he was standing very close to her and looking down into her face. He could pull her down into the sand. He wanted to. Pull her down, hike her dress…

He heard Billa giggling and looked away from Skylla for the time being. “Let’s find some wine, brat. I want to drink.” And then he was forcing her to drop the basket and clamping his hand around her wrist to drag him after the elusive wine. Wine he was no longer the least bit interested in finding.

Lukos kept right on dragging her through the dusty path. He made an impatient noise when she mentioned that they'd unloaded wine earlier. Yes...yes they had. And if the two of them were caught pilfering it they would both be whipped and worse...but the captain was definitely busy at the moment. The thought didn't bother him the way it seemed to bother Skylla.

He'd always assumed that Billa and Sophos were married but only found out later in life that they weren't. Not in the traditional sense, anyhow. But they shared a hut for a few nights whenever Sophos came back to the island. The captain had his own hut but Billa's was always where he stayed right at first. To get out his wants, Lukos knew. As he'd grown and matured, he had wants, too but they weren't ever satisfied at home. He'd been forced to pay whores at the ports they stopped at or use the girls that Captain Sophos abducted to sell to the whore houses.

Now...now he had a new plan and he led Skylla around the crescent beach and towards the dock. No one was there to guard anything. They were all busy with their families. He tugged Skylla aboard the ship and led her down to her father's cabin where Lukos knew full well a bottle of wine was hidden under the floorboards.

"In here," he said, giving her a shove through the doorway and into the messy room. Sophos was not overly fastidious. Clothes littered the floor and the bed sheets were rumpled and slept in. Lukos toyed with the idea of forcing her onto it…

"There's wine under the floor board," he said, pointing by the bed. "You should take it out. We can go drink in the field."

He hovered in the doorway, one foot in the room and the other foot out in the narrow hall. His attention alternated between her and keeping a look out. Just because no one was here now did not mean they couldn’t very suddenly find themselves having to hide from someone like Catos or Hedrion, or any of the other crew members who might need to come back and fetch something. Lukos being on the ship wasn’t an issue and truthfully it wouldn’t even really earn them more than a sharp reprimand to scamper elsewhere. What would get them whipped was being caught in this room. This room was off limits unless there were orders to come in here. And even if Lukos drummed up some lie, Sophos would be asked. It wouldn’t end well.

“What?” he looked back into the room when Skylla spoke. It took him a second to realize she was actually whining at him to get the bottle himself. Maybe this was a bad idea. A couple of moments ago she’d seemed older and more interesting. Now she was reverting to childish behavior and it was off putting. He’d grown used to the whores purring in his ear or the slave girls writhing and struggling. Both were extremes but neither of them were this.

”Which floorboard is it?” She spun away from him and flounced into the room. His arm shot out of its own accord and he smacked her ass hard and punishing.

“It’s that one,” he pointed again to the board he’d already shown her where she clearly hadn’t been listening. And because he was angry, he stepped into the room after her, abandoning his lookout post. His hand closed around the back of her neck and he bent at the waist, forcing her down with him until he had her on her hands and knees with her nose nearly right against the floor. “There,” he hissed in her ear. But now that he had hands on her, he didn’t actually let her go.

This close, he could smell her hair and in it, he sensed the island’s spring and the faint scented soap she used. There wasn’t a lot to her to inhale. Not like the dock whores were stank overpoweringly of sweat and the odor of men, covered over with eye watering perfumes. He released his hold on her but his hand continued to rest on the back of her neck, his fingers toying with her mass of hair.

He wasn’t behind her, but right beside her. They were hip to hip but with the way he was twisted, his chest bumped against her shoulder and his head was still bent close to hers. There was nothing romantic about him at the moment. He’d never bothered with romance and didn’t understand the concept. It didn’t occur to him to try and woo her. He was simply planning to take her once he got a good chance.