Let's revisit the camp, to check in with Lachesis, and get a little glimpse into Rider's mysterious past :) ...

P.S. For anyone wondering - Rider's backstory is based on that of Perseus in Greek mythology, though there will be some twists on the traditional myth, as always ;) Just so everyone knows that I didn't choose the four-syllable names introduced in this scene to confuse readers on purpose, hehe c:

______________

Scene 8: The Story

2020 B.C.

The entire camp somehow felt tense, uneasy and even afraid of the sense that their leader had changed. Apparently he had, in drastic ways, over the past few days. And seemingly not for the better. The only soul in all the camp who wouldn't know was Rider's wife. These were the only days that Lachesis had known him. She had no way to tell whether he had been different before, and if so, how. All she knew, all she cared about, was that he was beautiful now. Inside and out.

And that he was in love with her sister. That he missed her. This she also knew, but she preferred not to, because Clotho didn't deserve all the favor and love she'd received all her life. Lachesis had endured eternity spent in her little sister's shadow, in the Cave. Had been resigned to that, because she'd been fooled into believing that Clotho was perfect. That maybe she deserved it.

But now Lachesis knew that wasn't true. The youngest of the Fates was flawed, just like the others, and it wasn't fair that she should steal everything from her sisters.

Granted, Clotho had met this man first. So perhaps she hadn't stolen him from anyone. But whenever Lachesis tried to remind herself of that, to let herself see reason, she would lay eyes on Rider again and forget.

Long after night had fallen, he entered the tent. She was seated on the bed, fingers twined in her pale golden hair, which she had been braiding and unbraiding over and over again, till he came in. It was always so tiresome waiting for him. But always worth the wait. Every night, he arrived when the hour was late - almost as if in hopes that she would be asleep already - but that was silly. Surely at least some part of him was glad to come home to his wife's loving smile.

She asked him the usual questions, about his day, to which he always gave the shortest answers possible, keeping his back to her all the while. After her umpteenth inquiry tonight, though, Rider stopped answering altogether.

Lachesis felt blush rising to her cheeks in a mad rush of human emotion - shame, anger, pain, and... whatever.

With a deep sigh, she surrendered. "I am sorry; I suppose I should know better than to ask you anything, when you clearly don't want to listen. When... when you don't even care enough to know my name."

At those words, something in the empty air between them shifted. Just as she'd intended. She had spoken in the saddest, sorriest tone that she could manage. It wasn't that the words were not sincere - they could not have been truer - but she figured it couldn't hurt to speak in such a way as to make him feel something, anything, for her. Even if it was only pity, she would take what she could get, and hope that someday it might blossom into more. For wasn't that how human feelings worked? They were meant to grow and evolve over time, it seemed to her.

Rider had felt and heard the heartbreak in her words. And though it was true that he'd changed for the worse, of late, he hadn't yet sunk to the level of a heartless monster. He knew that such a time might come. And that it might be soon, at this rate. But not yet; not today.

The girl was here now by his side, as his bride, because he had chosen to save her. Twice over. That wasn't her fault. And she wasn't to blame for his pain, for the loss that he'd suffered, the void in his own broken heart. It was wrong of him to hold anything against her.

So Rider turned to face his wife, struggling to force the memory of brown eyes from his mind. "No - I am sorry," he expressed, taking a few slow steps toward the bed. "For having been so cold to you, all this time. I do know your name; others in this camp have mentioned it to me, but I... I should've asked you sooner. I am sorry."

Her heart fluttered and soared at his every word. He was speaking to her. With a sincerity, a softness in his voice that she had never heard.

He came closer, squatting down beside the bed to meet her wide, enamored gaze. "Look, Lachesis. Our wedding was hardly... official, given the circumstances. I ought to have made this clear to you earlier: should you wish to leave my side, the choice is yours. You could be free."

Oh. Those were not the words she might've hoped for. "Free from what?"

He blinked as if it were obvious. "From all of this. From me."

"But I don't want to be," she blurted honestly, biting her lip in the pause that ensued. "And where would I go, Rider? What would I do?"

"Haven't you a home, somewhere? I could take you there..."

"I thought you don't want to take any more detours, on this path. On your mission to Argos. Toward whatever it is you're looking for."

Brows furrowed over darkening bay-blues. What she had said was true. But the poor girl deserved a chance at happiness, which she could never have with him, he knew. It was the least that he could do.

"Besides - my home is here now," Lachesis continued before he could answer. "There is no other place on earth where I'd feel safe." That, too, was true. The only other home that she had ever known was the eternal safety of the Cave, which was not a place on earth.

Rider's gaze rested on hers a moment longer. Then he lowered it to the floor, dipped his head in a nod. "If - if this is what you wish, then I... I've no right to deny you. I promise to... try to be kinder."

He had to try. For he reckoned that fate - or whatever forces laid the course of mortal lives - had bound them together. Even if his true fate felt faraway... That fate was lost to him.

Perhaps Lachesis was his fate now. If she was, then he ought to at least try to be civil to his bride. If for no other reason, then because life by her side would be excruciatingly tense and uncomfortable otherwise.

They eased into polite conversation that night, seated in bed side by side. She asked him for the billionth time what awaited in Argos. Previous times, when he'd replied, he had said only that there was something he must do. But he was trying now to be kind and civil, with his wife; he knew that hidden truths and untold stories such as this one wouldn't serve their marriage well.

Rider warned her that the story behind his mission was a long one - clearly, she wanted to hear. So he began to tell.

2040 B.C.

"Mother! Mother! Look how wonderful!"

The boy scrambled across the rocky sand toward the slender woman who approached the shore, both sporting smiles warmer and brighter than the high noon sun. She ran a gentle hand through his unruly dark brown curls, beaming at the happiness she saw reflected in the pair of bay-blue eyes so like her own. Deep and dark in hue, yet full of light, hopeful and true.

"Today has been a victory," her son declared. He had always been one to speak in lofty terms, elevating even the most mundane of feats to heroic proportions. "Dictys and I have caught more fish than ever!"

"Oh, that is wonderful, Perseus," she gushed. "The gods have smiled upon you. Mayhap your father put in a good word with his brother..."

"You mean Poseidon, lord of the sea?" the boy exclaimed proudly. "Yes, probably! Just look how many fish - surely the gods have blessed us."

Dictys had gathered up the day's catch and now came up beside the child, ruffling his hair. "No doubt great blessings follow you. I ought to have your help with the fishing more often, dear boy! The son of Zeus."

Perseus grinned up at the kindly fisherman. "You're my father, too!"

The words warmed Dictys's heart; he had indeed come to care for the boy as his own, in the years since Perseus and his mother Danaë had arrived here on the isle of Seriphos. And he was glad that the child felt that he had a father figure in his life - a mortal father, one who walked upon the earth and knew the boy firsthand, and loved him for it.

For though Danaë believed with all her heart that her child truly was the son of the almighty Zeus, Dictys for his part was rather doubtful. And he didn't want Perseus to ever feel fatherless, if someday he came to realize that Danaë's beliefs were based on foolish myths.

In any event, he respected Danaë enough not to voice any of his doubts before the boy. She was his mother. It was her choice, her right to raise him as she wished, bright-eyed and full of buoyant hope, belief and faith in much more than this mortal earth could offer.

"That's quite a catch, brother," an unwelcome voice presently interrupted.

Dictys turned to see his brother Polydectes, a sleazy oaf who happened to be king of Seriphos. The ruler rarely ventured out here to the coast, where Dictys had chosen to make his humble home. And Dictys preferred it that way. Especially now that the king had lain his hungry eyes on the lovely Danaë and seemed quite unwilling to tear them away.

"Yes, it is," Dictys affirmed, hoisting the heavy net of fish over one shoulder and draping his free arm over Danaë's delicate frame. "Now if you would please pardon us, my king, we shall be on our way."

The family of three enjoyed a bountiful supper that evening, after which Danaë tucked her son into bed, soon dozing off herself. Perseus woke awhile later to the sound of voices outside. Recognized one as Dictys, and the other as that mean-looking man he'd met upon the beach today, who was apparently a king. So he was paying them another visit, now? Why? What was he seeking?

"You cannot just take her," Dictys insisted.

"Oh, but you can, brother?" Polydectes scoffed. "Pray tell - since when can a measly fisherman take what a king cannot?"

"I've taken nothing from her; I live beside her as companion and protector."

"What a mighty waste of fine merchandise..."

"Polydectes, I urge you to pay heed. Danaë believes-" Dictys paused before proceeding, knowing full well just how insane the words would sound, "-believes herself to be the bride of Zeus."

"Hah! A fanciful tale. Crazy bitches often are the feistiest in bed."

"Even if she is deluded, as to Zeus, this much I know is true: she is the daughter of a king. Should her father ever find her here, I doubt that he'd look kindly on a man who took Danaë against her will."

"Lest you forget, Dictys, I am a king in my own right."

"Her father is Acrisius, king of Argos. Far more powerful than the ruler of a little island such as ours."

"Ours? Mine. Make no mistake," Polydectes sneered. "At any rate, dear brother - why don't you fetch me some of your best wine, then come back outside and tell me the story of how a princess of Argos landed on my shores and shacked up with a fisherman of Seriphos."

Perseus heard Dictys sigh and reach for the door. He hurried to burrow his head beneath the covers and pretend to be asleep, as the man stepped quietly into their small one-room hovel. Once he had left, the boy slipped out of bed and pressed his ear against the door, to hear the story for himself.

The story of King Acrisius of Argos, who had locked his daughter away one day, due to a prophecy that her future son would be the death of him. Of a mysterious man who had somehow entered Danaë's secured chambers, claiming to be Zeus, begetting a child upon her before disappearing forever. Of how Acrisius, after learning of this, had boxed his daughter and her infant son inside a crate and cast them out to sea - too scared of the gods' wrath to kill them himself, but comfortable with sending them to likely death. Of how Dictys had found the mother and child washed up on the isle of Seriphos, and cared for them like his own family ever since.

A story of gods and kings, of men and monsters. A story that raised, in the mind of a boy, far more questions than answers.

2020 B.C.

The story raised the same, on this night, in the mind of his wife.

Especially once Rider stopped abruptly in the middle of telling it, standing from the bed and crossing the tent. "Well - the hour is late," he stated. "The rest of the story can wait. You should get some rest; goodnight."

Her eyes did not blink as they trailed longingly after him.

"I will sleep soon," he lied in reply to the question that she hadn't asked.

He knew her name, but even so, he didn't say it now. Nor did he lie with her tonight. She had hoped that he might, but just as quickly as it'd sprung, that hope had died. Hope had a way of doing that, she realized as her husband stepped outside, his own heart heavy with dead hopes that he could never bring to life again. Not even if he tried.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Any thoughts about their chat? About the flashback? ;)

Next scene, we'll check in with Cloe in modern-day Athens...

** And if you liked this one, please don't forget to vote! :) **