How Can You Tell If He Loves You So?
Who: Nike and Phobos What: Nike and Phobos become a bit better acquainted. Where: Phobos's palace When: A few days after Phobos brings Nike to his home. Rating: PG Status: Complete
Several days had passed since Phobos had brought her here, and she'd had ample time to reflect on all that had happened, and continued to happen, to her. She still blamed herself, still thought she had done something wrong, why and how else could he have captured her so easily.
But she shed no more tears. Slowly her loathing for both herself and the bastard who'd done this to her had morphed into something else. Something sharper. Something harder. She was building walls around her heart, around her soul. Walls that she intended to never let another pass.
Still, as the days wore on, she wondered what the word was at home. Had no one missed her? Did no one, not even her siblings, care? Were the only ones willing to help her those who might as well be termed strangers?
For as she'd recovered, as her mind slowly knit itself back together, she was coming to realize the level of danger Phobos and Amphitrite had taken on for her sake. They'd given her succor, shelter, healing. If not for them, she'd be dead. And if not dead, then she'd wish she was mortal and the abuse Poseidon heaped on her flesh would be enough to kill her.
Part of what troubled her was that she had no idea why they were helping her. What were they getting out of this? The gods rarely acted altruistically. There had to be some payoff, even if it wasn't one she would necessarily recognize. But she didn't want to ask Phobos. Maybe his servant when she saw him again.
At least her wings were healing. Her wings were the part of herself she cherished most. She loved to fly, loved to soar, loved to feel them stretching and working and moving her, the wind they made. But feathers were regrowing, and the flesh no longer looked so red and swollen and torn. She would fly again, damn it. Someday. Someday soon, if she had anything to say about it.
Sitting up on the bed she'd hardly left over the last few days, her head turned at the sound of a door opening and she wondered who was going to see her. That was the only time she heard footfalls here. More eagerly than she wished, she waited, hoping it was Aclys. He was good company for her. Quiet, but kind. She didn't fear him like she did his master. Phobos was a mystery, and until she knew why he was helping, she doubted she'd ever feel safe in his presence.
Phobos had watched his guest from afar, checking in on her while she slept but always from a distance and accepting reports from Aclys about Nike's slow healing. The steady doses of ambrosia were helping enormously but there was still plenty of healing left yet. Her wings were looking good, still denuded but healthier for certain. Slowly, she was regaining her beauty even if her eyes remained haunted. Nike's bruises and cuts were gone completely now, leaving golden umarred skin, but what seemed unmarred at the surface could be cracked, damaged or irrepairable underneath.
But from Aclys reports that didn't seem to be the case. Other than that one breakdown, Nike had yet to cry again. That both surprised Phobos and yet it didn't. Goddesses were made of sterner stuff than the clay and dirt humans rose from. He did worry though that Nike would eventually explode if she didn't let it out. If she did, he just hoped he wasn't in the way and Poseidon was so he could shove his great-uncle into the path.
Walking into Nike's room (for it had ceased to be his at least in the mean time), Phobos was surprised to find the goddess awake. "Good. I've brought you your daily dose of ambrosia," he said holding up the ornate gold kylix for Nike's inspection. "How are you feeling? Has Aclys seen to your every need? Is there anything more that you require?" For all that Phobos was a god of fear, panic and war, he was always a good and gracious host and guest in other people's homes.
She nodded softly, her eyes wide at the sight of him. "He's been very good to me. But there are a few things I think I am ready for now. A bath. And... this will sound odd, but I think I need help grooming... grooming my wings. I cannot reach all of them, and the new feathers itch. I need help getting the sheath off the pin feathers." Like a bird, she didn't say. She looked at him shyly, biting her lip. "Achlys said he isn't all that familiar with birds, and the one he tried cracked the shaft."
"Ah, I don't know much about birds either but I've had a falcon or two in my day. I'll see what I can do," he said walking closer to the bed and handing her the kylix. Sitting at the edge of the bed, he tried to tamp down his powers so he wouldn't needlessly panic Nike or make her afraid of him. Sometimes being the god of fear didn't really help those he wanted to like him. Keeping his movements slow, he reached over and very carefully and very gently worked loose a hard tubular sheath and worked it free leaving a downy soft feather behind. "Roll over onto your stomach so I can try getting the rest," he said, pleased by how well her wings seemed to be recovering. Immortals healed much faster than humans but still, it could be a painful process. "You're safe here. I will never do anything to you without your permission," he added, sensing her tension.
It felt so good when he got the sheath free that she sighed in relief. The itching had been driving her mad. Maybe... maybe he could be trusted with this. Rolling onto her belly, she flexed her wings. They quivered with the need and desire to fly, but they were no where near healed enough for that. She closed her eyes then, and could almost pretend it was Bia helping her. His hands were so gentle on her wings, it reminded her of the one accident she had suffered, when she had cracked a number of feathers when a wind buffetted her into a cliff face and Bia had helped her with this. As his fingers worked to free her feathers, she felt the tension draining from her, and closed her eyes, wondering if she'd fall asleep again. She'd been sleeping so much lately, it bothered her. Why? Was her mind trying to avoid her memories? "Phobos, why are you being so kind to me? Why was Amphirite? Before this, I had barely spoken to either of you. I wouldn't have called you friends. Except that she found me and saved me and... and now you're caring for me. Why?" The questions were asked innocently because in truth, Nike was an innocent goddess. Or had been. She doubted that word would ever really be applicable to her again. She now knew what the worst thing a being could suffer was. But in some things, like politics, she was still very naive.
"I can't speak for Amphitrite, but... I think she sees a little bit of herself in you. Both of you are victims of Poseidon, chained figuratively and literally to a beast. And, well, Amphitrite hates Posedon and does everything in her power to make his life as miserable as possible. As for myself, Amphitrite called in a debt and ordered me to keep you safe and safe you shall remain. I'm not normally... nice," he said the word like it was unfamiliar and to him it was, "but I don't know.... After seeing you laid so low it didn't seem... right. Unfair maybe. I can't explain it. No one did anything, I'm not bespelled or ensorcelled, I'm being concerned on my own and it feels odd to say the least. I've never been concerned with anyone other than myself and Deimos and maybe my parents a little bit. Count yourself lucky." As he spoke, his fingers worked with growing efficiency, gently worked the shafts from the feathers.
"I do," she whispered, turning her head to look at him over her shoulder. "More than lucky. This goes far beyond luck." Obviously she owed Amphirite her life. More than that, she owed her gratitude such as she'd never felt before. She didn't feel it yet, but she thought she might. In fact, she still felt a bit as though she were wrapped up in a wet wool blanket. But she didn't have to feel it to express it. She just wished she knew Amphirite better so she would know how to express it to her.
His fingers felt so good on her wings that she sighed and relaxed a bit more, some of the tension leaving her taught muscles. Although she was concerned at his concern for her. Touched, but concerned. "Given how well the feathers are growing back, I don't think I'll be a burden on you much longer, Phobos." Her voice was quiet as she said it, and she wondered how much relief he'd feel to see her go.
"Stay however long you like. You're the perfect guest; quiet and undemanding. You don't want large parties, you don't want anyone to fawn of you and stroke your ego. It's quite nice with you here actually," he murmured as he spoke, his large fingers very delicately plucking a very small shaft from her wings. He paused a moment, surprised by his words and realized that they were true. He didn't talk to Nike often in an attempt to give her space to heal and recover in peace (and he was slightly frightened by the thought of more tears), but when he did, he liked their brief conversations. Deimos was... who knew where so Phobos felt abit lonely and having Nike here to take care of and talk to help distract him. "You're no trouble."
She blinked in surprise, once more looking at him over her shoulder and noting that he'd cleared a fair few of her feathers. "My lord honors me. I find it hard to believe that I'm no trouble when I've put you out of your very bed." As soon as she said it, she felt a blush spreading over her cheeks, knowing how that would sound. And she wasn't inviting him back, either. Merely just noting that it was his bed she'd usurped. "It smells like you," she whispered falteringly. "Of your strength, but also of the fear you inspire. It bothered me at first, but the longer I lay here, the more I smell the first and the less I smell the latter."
Her words flattered and surprised him (and even aroused him a little bit though he held that firmly in check). None of his other lovers had ever commented on his scent and he hadn't really ever thought about it. Did that mean she liked it? "Well, I haven't slept in that bed in a little while so maybe that's why the fear is fading away. I don't outwardly project it on purpose... well, not all the time anyway. It isn't like an ability like yours where you give someone something," he said by way of apology (although he wasn't sure what he was apologizing for). "If you wish, I can get you a new bed, one from a guest room for your stay."
She licked her lips subconsciously while she considered the offer, then shook her head no. "No, I... I think I sleep better for it." Now her cheeks were outright flaming. "You smell nothing at all like Him," she said, deciding it was her turn to explain. "When I have nightmares, I wake up smelling you and know they were just dreams." That sounded horrible, but it was a simple truth. She hoped he didn't think she was coming onto him, though. For all that she felt the same hint of attraction to him she'd felt on their first meeting, she was no more ready to act on it now than she had been then. If anything, she was less ready, now that she knew the pain and horror that came with coupling. Why the other goddesses willingly submitted to that, she had no idea.
He couldn't see any fault with her reasoning and merely shrugged, pushing away the warm feeling inside him at her words. She was comforted by him when no one save Deimos had ever been comforted by him. He liked the odd funny feeling when she said that. "Good. Then... you can keep the bed. By the way, your wings are looking very good but let me know if you need to see another healer. Aesclepeus didn't say you needed anything else but if you do, don't hesitate to ask. In case of unwanted surprises," he hinted, the old manners his mother had taught him about discussing such delicate things around a lady coming out suddenly. Nike may have been sort of boyish, but that didn't make her a boy. She was still a goddess and needed to be respected as such.
A frown creased her forehead as she struggled to catch what he was apparently hinting at, and then a look of absolute horror broke out across her face. "Oh, Sweet Gaia," she gasped, her hand slipping beneath the sheet to clutch her belly. "You don't think that..." she trailed off, not even wanting to speak the words, a shivering bout of fear overwhelming her as she remembered His stench, the slippery feel of his release staining her thighs. She didn't cry though. Not this time. Even as she trembled in fear, she fought it back. She would not let him win. And if he had gotten a monster on her, she would not grant it life.
Phobos was not a god of caring. He had been created for violence and war, but seeing Nike trembling and wracked with fear, he decided to try his best. Halting his task for the moment, he laid large, warm and he hoped comforting hands on her shoulders. "You would know," he murmured, his thumbs slowly sweeping up to rub her neck and then back down in a gentle massage. "Goddesses are not humans who sometimes don't know until the baby is dropping that they are pregnant. If you were with child, you would already know. At the least, Hera would've already stopped by to talk to you and she hasn't, so I wouldn't worry about it."
Knowing that she wasn't pregnant gave him more relief than he was comfortable with as did the slight feel of her shoulders under her hands, her soft skin and the warmth radiating from her body. He was drawn to that warmth like a moth to a flame and that could be Very Bad.
His words soothed her, and she felt her body relaxing. Not completely, but some. Her eyes drowsed to half-mast, and her breathing slowed. His hands were magical, she decided, finding knots in her shoulders that released with a pop, the tension slowly flowing out of her limbs as though he'd found and widened a crack in a dam. When the release came, it came all at once and she suddenly felt much better.
Rolling onto her hip, she turned to look up at him where he sat over her, reminding her of a guard dog. It brought a smile to her lips, and she lifted a hand to gently lay it on his knee where his legs were tucked under him by her face. "I know you only took me to repay a debt. But I can't help but feel that I was blessed that the debt was owed you. Thank you, Phobos. I know I'm a trial to you."
She wanted to ask him for news. News of the war, of her siblings, of what happened on Olympus Of whether her presence had even been missed. But, perhaps her fear that she hadn't been missed was enough to make her hold her tongue. "I hardly know you," she said instead. "And now I find myself with a life debt to you. Would you tell me of yourself?"
Her hand on his knee made him think of things he'd sworn not to think around Nike, not while she was recovering from such a brutal encounter with Poseidon. "There isn't much to tell," he replied to keep his thoughts from wandering and his body reacting. He shifted so he was sitting on the side of the bed, near where her hips would be if she were laying on her back or stomach. "My mother is Aphrodite, my father is Ares, born of an illicite love they carry on today. My twin is Deimos and we do almost everything together. I have a few other full brothers and sisters, although I'm not close to them by half of what I am with Deimos. War is my playground, it's the place I do my best work although I do have a fondness for plagues. The reaction people have to plagues is headier than in war." He glanced over at her as he spoke, watching her reaction. He was testing her to see how disgusted she would be by him. If she reacted strongly, it would help him keep his distance. "There was talk of sending a plague to Troy or even amongst the Greeks but Hera is all up in arms about her precious Greeks and Aphrodite and her Trojans so it's a complete mess and the seige continues at a standstill."
She closed her eyes on a fresh wave of pain. "And that, too, is my fault. I was on a mission to the Trojans when... when..." she broke off, breathing deeply to fight back the sobs. "If I hadn't failed my mission, the war would likely be over now. I'll never be able to show my face on Olympus again," she whispered helplessly, her recovering wing coming up to cover her face while she shook with shame and self-loathing.
"No one's blaming you," Phobos murmured, reaching out to lay his hand gently on her wing. "Everyone's really worried about you, especially Athena. I'd like to tell them that you're ok, but I'm bound to silence until you're well enough to leave. But I haven't heard a single god or goddess blame you for the standstill in Troy. Perhaps it's supposed to be like this anyway, who knows what the Fates have in store, hm?" He waited paitently until she moved her wing away and reached out to wipe her tears with his thumb. "Poseidon will get his punishment from Zeus when he finds out what he's done. You were on a mission from him yes? And Poseidon went directly against his king and Zeus, no matter what, will not let that sit idly by. Dry your eyes, no more tears. You'll be able to go home to Olympus without shame."
She wasn't naive enough to believe that, though. For all that she loved and served the thunder-god, she had no illusions about him and his views of females. He rarely blamed the other gods when their lust overtook them, choosing to not be seen as that much of a hypocrit. Poseidon couldn't have known of her mission, and since there was no offspring from his use of her, she doubted anyone would care. Well, anyone besides Amphitrite. It was then that she first realized how lucky she was that it was Poseidon who had done this to her, and not Zeus himself. Amphitrite, at least, had helped her. She didn't even dare consider what Hera would have done in the same position. But for a moment she let his words wash over her. For a moment she dared to hope that she would be vindicated, her hope shining in her eyes as her breath caught and she looked up at the god so tenderly touching her face. "Phobos," she whispered, but had no idea why. Was it a plea? Or a command? And was it said in fear? Or in hope?
He heard her confusion and instinctively responded to it. She was a female in need and the male in him wanted to protect and take, but only what she was willing to give. Leaning forward slowly, almost hesitantly, he sought to find out what she was willing to give. Sliding his hand that had been wiping her tears away to the back of her head, he cupped her neck and head and tilted her lips up to his.
The kiss began gentle and soft, a silently asked question that let him deepen the kiss when she answered by kissing him back. This simple act had his skin itching and burning for her and stoked his desire in a way he'd never felt before with any other goddess or mortal woman. Nike's kiss was pure innocence, enflaming his passions higher when he realized that he was her first in this regard.
That was true. Though Poseidon had possessed her mouth as he had every other opening, his kisses had gagged her, making her think of cold slimy things. There had been no warmth. And on her part there had been no desire. No pleasure. Much less this slow-burning heat that made her body tingle in places she'd rather forget existed. It was terrifying and wonderful at the same time.
But after that simple excruciatingly complex kiss, she pulled back, her eyes opening to stare into his face and wonder what he was doing. Was this how she was to repay her debt to him? With her body? The fear and pain even the thought of that caused made one of the healing tears on her skin rupture anew as her blood pressure spiked in response.
Phobos was panting softly, his muscles tense and everything about him hard as a rock as he looked down into her eyes, but he jerked away and cursed softly as one of her cuts opened fresh and began to bleed anew. Hurrying over to a nearby table, he scooped up a poltice Asclepeus had given him but he hadn't needed to use until now. Very tenderly, he dabbed at the bleeding cut with scrap he'd torn from his own robes until it stopped bleeding then smoothed some of the cool paste onto the cut. Satisified she wasn't going to bleed anymore, he moved onto some of the other cuts on her body that looked fresher than they had a few minutes earlier giving them the same attention. "I guess you're not as healed as you look," he murmured by way of apology. His lips still tingled and his eyes kept straying down to her lips. Her taste was still fresh on his tongue and he wanted more. "I'll have a bath drawn for you so you can soak. Are you in any pain? Will you need help walking to the bath?"
How could his touch be so gentle, his lips so soft, and yet he wanted the same things Poseidon did. She knew he did. Oh, he may not tie her down and force her. But she could see the lust in his eyes and the growing bulge a bit lower down. But she knew she couldn't make it to a bath on her own, and so she nodded. "Only a little pain now," she said honestly, the pain having receeded with the ointment and as her heart stopped racing so hard. "But I don't think I can get to the bath alone, no." She bit her lip wondering if he'd only offered so that he could join her in the tub. And she didn't trust herself around him. Like the kiss, it would be so easy to respond, to give him want he wanted, only to be used once more.
His indecision waffled. He wanted her, but not like this nor did he want her afraid of him. With a silent inner sigh, he returned the ointment to the table and left for a pair of trusted female servants, actually sisters of Aclys. He was back a minute or so later with the girls in tow and they hurried forward immediately, their hands gentle, their murmurs soft and sympathetic as they helped Nike to her feet. He had to be careful about this otherwise his whole household would know and that could spell disaster because no matter how loyal his servants were, it could be too easy to make one talk. "This is Agatha and Enora, sisters of Aclys. They will see to your bath."
Nike nodded and let the women help her up, unsure how she felt about this. Perhaps he didn't want her after all. Not that she'd blame him. After all, he'd seen her after Poseidon had taken her. She knew he wouldn't want her now. Virginity wasn't all that important to the gods in choosing bed partners, but she was tainted now. An Untouchable.
She let the girls lead her away to the bath, looking back over her shoulder to where Phobos sat on the side of the bed. Something inside her twisted as she was led away, and she resolutely turned her face forward once more. No matter what, she would not let herself be used like that again. Distance... it really was for the best.
The girls helped her into the bath after stripping her of the linen chiton and helping her into the warm, sweetly scented water.
The girls chattered while they bathed her, helping her with the sheaths still on her feathers while they were wet, washing her hair. But she would have had to have been deaf to not hear what they were saying, no matter how hard she tried to pretend she'd achieved that state.
Phobos. The topic of their conversation revolved entirely around Phobos. His strange behavior since he brought her here, though they hadn't know what or who was in the room. His current sleeping arrangements (with the two of them). His fine physique. His abilities in bed. She was bright red from embarrassment, and could only hope they thought it was because of the heat of the bath. Although given the way they were dwelling lovingly on what he'd done to them the night before and what they'd done to him in return, she doubted they even noticed her blush as they were clearly preoccupied with their reminiscing. And their hopes for that night.
And Nike didn't know if she felt better for that, or worse. Better, knowing that he had a, uh, comfortable place to sleep that night. Worse, thinking that she really did mean nothing to him. Because there was a huge difference between knowing that, and knowing that.
Finally, the bath ended, and the girls led her back into the bed chamber to dry her and rub her with ointment and tuck her, dressed in a clean chiton, back into the bed.
The bed that smelled, even more than before, of him.
With a sigh, she closed her eyes and let herself drift into a sleep, but for once her dreams weren't of Poseidon and pain, but rather of Phobos and the ecstasy his body servants had described.