For the first time in years, Hector's family was whole again. It had been just under a year now since Gregor's flight from Egypt that brought him back under the same roof after nearly seven or eight years thought missing...or gone. There had been long periods of adjustment, testing waters and shifting roles under their roof - not to mention maneuvering through the limited allotted space in the home - but it had grown comfortable again.

Now, with Ariadne home for a period longer than she had been in years, it felt as if all was right with the world. His mood had been so lifted that his lieutenants noted it, and his soldiers could feel the levity through grace given to them in the form of fewer reprimands. Some of that, of course, came from the way he delegated some of the weeks tasks to give himself a touch more time at home with his family whole.

Dinners were shared around a table that now proved to be far too small, resulting in several evening repasts being shared casually in the courtyard, with chairs and stools scattered around a warm fire pit. While the meals he prepared were hardly gourmet in the style of their serving, he made a point to spend the extra coin at the harborside to find the favorites of each person in the home. Not a man of many affectionate words, his love for his family could be tasted as he made the effort to make family favorites.

Demi had gone for the evening, and despite that niggle of irritation that burned in him every time she left specifically without telling him where, it did not dampen his mood. Ismene and Gregor spent hours talking about plants that Hector never knew existed, finally retreating to compare jars of mysterious compounds that Hector could only assume were not dangerous.

Hector learned early on that Ariadne felt best when she was busied, and though she did help with some of the preparations in the kitchen, it was usually the clearing away and the tidying that she busied herself with after the meal. Everyone had settled their own ways, so Hector slid onto the well worn lounge before the fire, a scroll of reports and inventories in front of him. Squinting by the firelight, the occasional 'hmph' would rumble from his throat, along with him reading certain smaller phrases aloud. While the White Shields ensured that the men were educated, being illiterate until he was nearly 15 years old had set him back considerably. There were still times when he needed to read certain phrases aloud to himself, usually muttered, to make sure he understood with full clarity.

As Ariadne passed into the room, her sweet voice calling out his name, his eyes uncrinkled and he looked to her. As a father did, the initial feeling of concern and care tugged at him, the first question on his mind - is everything alright? - clear in the pinched, worry lines across his brow. All was well, and his expression of concern melted away into a warm, affectionate smile as he shifted his leg down from the lounge, the broad wingspan of his arm opening to allow her to press against his side, arm wrapping fully around her.

Pressing a kiss to the top of her golden hair, noting the faint smell of spring flowers in it, he smiled, "I have loved having you home. Her Royal Highness was beyond kind to allow it." His hand mindlessly combed at her hair for a moment as his eyes turned to the fire, squinting slightly as he silently counted the days.

"In a month's time? Perhaps just under that. I had only just returned from Athenia three or so days before you came home." Usually each month or every six weeks or so, he made it to the Captial, relaying all Information related to the White Shields from recruitment to field work to finances to General Lacides directly before he would bring it to the Senate Council for their standard discussions. It was tiresome to do his duty as well as travel to the captial, but any chance to see Ariadne made it worth it. Another thought crossed his mind and he hummed a second before saying it, "There's a festival coming soon, though. We may try to make the extra trip, bring Isi and Gregor along as well. They always find some sort of strange plant or powder from the bigger markets there."

Hector shifted only slightly so he furl the parchment he held with one hand and let it drop softly to the ground by the leg of the lounge. At this point in his life, running the White Shields had become second nature, as natural as breathing it felt. How long had he been Captain now? Ten years? Eleven? Most of the girls' lives, and it was necessary. It provided enough for him to support his family and had far more leniency than his days as a foot soldier.

Those days were hard, scraping by on a soldier's pay to put food on the table and buying clothes too large for the girls so they would not grow out of them so quickly - which they always did. After he went to war and all but dipped his toes in the River Styx, he was promoted to Lieutenant and the financial burdens eased slightly, even more so once Ariadne took her current position in service to Princess Persephone.

Now, they lived a comfortable life. There were many who did not have the blessings that the gods had bestowed upon them. Every day, he prayed to Athena for wisdom and strength, not only for himself but for his girls as well. His reward smiled up at him, blue eyes sparkling.

"It's settled, then. We will come for the festival and then I'll make the trip again after that." There had been a good amount of coin saved for such occasions, and both Gregor and Ismene had made their own small savings from their workings throughout Arcana. While travel between their province and the capital was no longer an exciting venture as it once was, he knew that Ismene enjoyed the change of pace, though he would not be surprised if Gregor chose to stay in the quiet of Arcana.

As they sat, he turned to look towards the hearthfire, feeling the warmth of it on his skin. The seasons were shifting slightly so that now the nights were cool, even though the days were still warm, though less humid from the summer. It dried out the air in the house, and still had the slightest scent of the meal they finished lingering in the air. His eyes closed a moment as he enjoyed the warmth of his home.

At her words, though, they opened slowly, fixated to an undefined point on the mantelpiece. He was not expecting the question, at all, and though he did not have some overt reaction to it being asked, his breath stilled a moment as his mind began to race through anything that could have sparked the thought in his daughter's mind.

As children, they knew their mother passed away at their birth. Hector kept honest with most of their questions but also carefully did not lie to them. He kept it so that he never said anything particularly untrue about Idylla...but he also did not correct them as the two girls crafted their own images of what had once been - like Mothers and Fathers always being married before they had children.

Turning his head slightly, he looked down at her, his expression initially unreadable, but attempting to lighten it a bit as she clarified - With Mama or Demi - as a ghost of a silent laugh escaped his nose and the corner of his lips flickered up and down a moment. Of course, Ariadne thought of Demi. They did not see her as a mother by any means, but as a woman to look to for...feminine...things...yes, she did well.

"I, uh...well..." he started, beautifully, his eyes glancing to her and away a few times as he tried to even figure out how to approach the subject. Did he tell her the truth of it all? The weight of the truth that he held had often weighed on him, and his girls were far more women than adolescents now - by their age, he had gone on campaigns far from home and had enemy blood on his hands. Yet, he still struggled to see them as anything other than the two imps that ran off from him to chase the crabs across the sands of Arcana's beaches.

"It's not always the same," he started, saying each word carefully, as if he were handling an unfinished sword by the blade. "It's hard to explain, it's just...a feeling, I guess?"

He paused, his brows furrowing slightly as he looked away at the far wall, correcting himself, "No, not a feeling. It's...it's something you do, and I suppose you do not realize it until you are in the middle of it. And, well...there's no stopping it. You can't. Whether you would want to or not. It's like those strong currents at sea. You could swim against it...or with it."

He would let Ariadne think that these same words applied to their mother, but he knew without a shadow of a doubt that his words spoke only of Demi. The gods knew how many times he felt angry and frustrated with loving Demi, her damned independence and persistence to keep to her occupation and sleep with other men for coin. More than once, they fought over it, voices raised and tears shed over the entire ordeal - those were the times he swam against the current. Yet, like the undertows at sea, swirling at the hand of Poseidon, there was no escaping it...and he would give in to swim along with this current of love...

...despite the risk of drowning in it.

Pulling himself back back out of his thoughts, he raised his brows at Ariadne, suddenly suspicious as to where this came from.

"What brought this on?" He kept his words soft and curious, but the instantly protective instincts of a father that shifted just below the surface, "Is there...someone I should know about at the Palati?"

Hector was no idiot - he knew that one day his daughters would be wed, hopefully well cared-for and happy. He had his brushes at court as well, knowing the prestige that came from an advantageous match. Granted, he had not made any such efforts to establish things for his daughters, at least not yet. It was his folly entirely for trying to cling to his vision of them as golden-haired children.

A slight pit formed in his gut, though, because he knew that at her age, he was well involved in a number of things that he would prefer not to think of either of his girls being up to at all. Yet, if Ari wanted to tell him something...

"You can tell me anything, you know."

Hector worried. It was almost a permanent state of being for him by this point, despite his constant campaign towards contentment. In truth, there were so many things that he fought daily against to keep from upsetting the calm, quiet balance that he held at home.

Athenia had, for some time, been at peace. Usually, the only militias that were shifted towards the northern borders were the Antonis forces, which rarely called on provinces outside of their own for assistance. Besides, the White Shields knew their duty - protect the crown in residence. As such, the pressure of fighting and life-risking was not ever so present on his mind. It was quite nice, particularly given how close he had been to crossing the River Styx nine years ago.

Financially, his little household was more sound than it had ever been before. With Gregor's return and contributions at the docks and as a healer, combined with Ari's pay and Ismene's own earnings, the were able to more than just break even on their expenses now. In fact, it allowed for a few more indulgences than they had ever had before. To be able to spend a few extra coins without thinking of the repercussions, that was a relief.

And yet, he still worried.

With Gregor and Ismene tending to the ill, he always feared for their own health. He had seen the way disease could spread through the barracks like wildfire. It would not take much for one then the other to fall ill. Having lost Gregor once, Hector abhorred the thought of ever doing it again...and could not fathom losing a child beyond that.

Then, there was Ari, one of the kindest and gentlest souls he believed ever walked the earth. At the time, he knew that there was protection and comfort in such a high-standing position - more than she could ever find in Arcana. In her position, she thrived, and genuine joy seemed to seep from every pore whenever she saw her. Yet, now this talk of 'love' and courting...it shone a light on just how little he knew of her day-to-day, of the risks she put herself at.

After all, he was a young man once. He knew their mind.

Ari asked for more specifics on the feeling, and Hector could not help but laugh. Despite knowing that she was only a handful of months shy from the age he was when she made him a Father, it reminded him too closely of her questions as a child.

By the gods, children asked a lot of questions! Hector had done the best he could, teaching them about the world and then turning them towards other reliable adults (and women) to guide them on the paths where he did not feel the best suited to lead them. But, the way she asked those oddly-strange specifics about where exactly the feeling of love lived, he could not help the smile on his lips.

"Both...and neither," he said, knowing his answer was not helpful, "You just know it's there. It's not always finding someone...attractive." He grimaced slightly, the discomfort of having such a conversation with his daughter trying to seep through, but he soldiered on. " It is trust, and confidence that someone will be there. Knowing that if you reached out your hand, they would take it."

As if to emphasize it, he held out his own hand, knowing she would take it before he even finished saying the words - proving his point.

There was a distinct release in his shoulders as she confirmed that this was not leading up to a big reveal of a beau in the capital. For some reason, he knew that would not happen, deep down. Ari would likely be shaking like a leaf before trying to approach that - or, more likely than that, Demi would be the one to hint the news to him with the finesse of a smith's hammer.

Hector's brow crinkled in interest, tracing the deepset lines from temple to temple as they did when he was actively listening to someone. Her mention of the Princess' potential marriage made the thoughts fall more into line, and his shoulders relaxed even further...for a brief moment. In fact, hearing that prelude made him feel a surge of pride instead of disapproval as she mentioned the idea of her marrying for her station. It was as if she knew his own mind as she married the ideas of wedding for station as well as love, cutting down any leg of protest that he had to stand on.

Clever girl.

Then, just as quickly, her words held a knife to his gut and cut him open. It was silent and deep, and there was no other physical response to the moment other than the apple of this throat bobbing as he swallowed slightly, trying to wet a tongue that had gone completely dry.

Every sentence sliced deeper than the last, and Ari had no idea.

Hector's eyes never left her face, shifting only slightly as he watched the quiet plea of her features, that yearning for the truth.

He could have choked on his own guilt.

Perhaps it was that sensation that kept him from speaking for a few long moments, the idea that he would choke on any word that came out of him. It had been 18 years since Idylla's death, shortly after the girls were born. They had known each other for some time, and Hector had dedicated himself to her the moment he knew of her condition. But...he knew that he had not done enough.

He did not know how long he had spent looking at the fire in the hearth, the crackling of the logs the only sound that filled the air as he fought a war inside himself.

Already, he had doomed himself to making this choice by considering and commending Ari for her maturity. Yes, she would always be his little girl - and Isi too - but she had just proven herself over the years to have grown into an intelligent, sensitive, and perceptive young woman.

It was not like it had been before, when the girls asked him to tell them a story about 'mama' - where he would asked 'well, what do you want to know?' - those stories were all simple. They were truthful.

They asked her favorite flowers, and he told them of how she could not choose so he went and picked as many different colors from an empty field as he could manage. Of course, he did not tell them it was because he had no coin to buy a flower for her so he resorted to stealing them from a farmer's lot.

They asked her favorite color, and he described the colors that made her eyes shine the same color blue as their own - but never talked about how quickly he would shed it off her in the few hours they would spend together in her cramped room, rushing through an evening together before he reported for the watch that night.

All these years, Hector had been extremely careful never to say the word 'love' when it came to Idylla. Never once. She was their mother, an unmistakable and noticeably missing part of their lives, and of the three of them, they were bound to love her the most. Yet, their belief and understanding of a 'mother' and a 'father' were that of the many storybooks he bought for them to keep them reading - so they could do so better than he ever could or likely would.

Still, even then, in the hours after her body had cooled and the guilt washed over him as he held the two newborn girls in his arms, it would be a lie before the eyes of the gods to ever call what they had 'love'.

It was why he turned his examples more towards Demi, though the similarities and fears ran deep. There was no doubt that he trusted Demi after nearly ten years of weaving in and out of each other's lives. It was confidence and trust and a hand to hold...and, yes, utter attraction as well. It was also the maddening reasons that they could not be together - his failure to deal with his past and her refusal to change the present. Clearly, they had faith that, one day, one would budge an inch or two to allow the other one in, and vice versa...but after nearly a decade, it had not happened yet.

Still, when it came to 'love' as Ari saw it, Demi was the closest example he could find...but the words would not come. Nor was it the time and place.

Ari wanted to know about her mother.

Hector had a decision to make. He had only ever felt this way when he knew that, regardless of the call in battle maneuvers that he would make in the heat of the moment, there was no avoiding casualties. It was then the decision between the choice that reduced casualties but lengthened the war...or the one that shed a great deal of blood, painfully, but would lead to war's end.

All these years, he had held on to this secret - the truth about the girls' mother - but never said it. Now, in this moment, he felt the weight of it heavier than ever before.

"Isi and I are approaching her age when she died..."

Was that the moment he had been waiting for? For them to reach the age where they could understand? Would it be selfish of him to tell them, hurting them, just to offer himself some relief by not having to carry the truth alone?

"No..."

The word leaving his lips surprised him a bit, in the softness and the veiled meaning behind it. Did he even know why it bubbled forward first?

"You always asked the right questions then, for your time. Just...just as you are asking the right questions now." Hector's eyes lowered to where her hand lingered on his forearm, begging him for the truth.

Hector had not prepared for this. He was so, so far from being ready for this conversation. It was bound to have come one day - even if that day was lying on his death bed. Still, it was clearly a sign from the gods, that in the quiet of the living room, that this would be the night where he loosened the bonds he held on the truth and let it come forward.

"I only ask," he started, steeling himself against the uncertainty of Ariadne's reaction and then, that of her sister, "...that you try to understand, and...forgive me when you can."

The words lingered in the air a moment and then he felt the need to move, as he often did when he did not know what to say next. He shifted Ari gingerly as he rose to stand, his strides taking him towards the hearth as an errant hand found itself shaking its fingers through his hair, then down across his face, wiping it as if to clear his sight from a deluge of rain. Moving to the hearth, his elbow placed itself on the wooden beam as his hand covered his mouth, considering the words that would come from it next.

Not a man for expressing emotions or typically of avoiding the issue, he tried to shift his approach, almost defensively. How would he tell someone other than Ariadne or Ismene something like this, or of this severity? How had he confessed to such things before as a young recruit, ready to take the fall for what he had done - and been caught - doing?

A heavy breath blew out from his nose against the side of his hand and he straightened a bit, adjusting his feet as if to ground him.

"I...wish I could tell you more about your mother, about how she felt and about how she loved. I wish I could tell you more about which of you she resembles the most. It...it isn't that you are asking the wrong questions, Ari. It is just that...I do not have the answers. I made the mistake of not finding them out before she was gone."

This was agonizing. Despite being a warrior, he was far from what could be considered 'hardened' using reservation in its place to keep from losing all touch with care. In this moment, though, he wished he could have simply spilled it out and not cared about what his daughter would experience - the shock of it, the betrayal.

No, instead, he felt it intensely even before it would come to pass. That would be his punishment in this. He knew this would be a turning point, one that he always knew would come but hoped to have been better prepared for it. Some other sort of night, sitting down both of the girls to let them know - perhaps on the eve of their weddings or something, so they had something to look forward to, a husband and a loving home, so they could turn their back on him for his betrayal.

Not now, though. But it was too late.

He closed his eyes, begging a silent prayer to @athena for the proper words to say, but knowing that in this, he would be on his own...

"We were not wed, your mother and I...."

It was a start, but it hardly explained everything in detail. Yet, it was the largest issue in the entire ordeal.

There was an attempt or two for him to start another part of the explanation, his mouth agape then closing a few times, not knowing where to start or end, so with a strangled grumbling noise, he began.

"We were young...and foolish. And while we enjoyed each others company it was..." Hector grimaced and scoffed at the way he was botching this, running a hand over his face and holding it over his mouth as if to stop too many stupid words from spilling out. It bought him a moment to glance to Ariadne and find the way to say it, knowing it would break his daughters heart. But a bone must be reset to heal - would it work the same with hearts? A bit of pain to heal the hurt?

Swallowing hard, he closed his eyes and let the words fall free, soft and pained.

"Demi knew Idylla, your mother...because they worked together, in the same profession."

With that wound opened, somehow, everything else spilled out.

"I was away for months...we lost touch...I did not know she was with child - with both you and Isi. No one knew. Then, she told me...and...I planned to marry her but she was bound bed in her condition. So we could not wed until after your birth...and when you were born...it was too late. She was gone..."

As he spoke, his eyes had found some place on the wall, but he was not seeing the peeling plaster or the wooden frames. He was taken back all those years ago, remembering the blood soaked bedding that had been taken from the room before not one, but two daughters were placed in his arms...

His daughters, he had decided right then and there, despite Gregor's entirely logical protests - as there was no way to know if they were even his. But, Idylla had been certain - or at least, certain enough in his status and quick rise in the military to make a husband of him to care for her children. To keep them from being bastards.

Hector had not been able to spare them that, but that had never been an issue before. Their golden hair, Ariadne's tendency towards order and Ismene's fiery temper - they had to be his, right? Every day as they grew, he found himself peering into their little faces, finding tiny flecks of his own reflection there.

And his heart...the gods would not have let him love them the way he did if they were not his....right?

All this time, he had been the only one bearing this uncertainty, these questions and dismay at what could have been, but what could not be changed now. He raised them, fed them, clothed them, and loved them with every ounce of his being. They exhausted him but brought him more joy than he could have ever imagined. That was what fatherhood contained, even if they did not share the blood. That is what he told himself, what let him sleep at night.

But now that he was not the only one to bear the weight of it...would it ruin him?

Breaking himself from a silent moment, gazing long into the past, questioning what could have been, what he could not change, he looked to Ariadne and his heart broke.

"There was not time enough for me to learn to love her...but every ounce of love that I could have had for your mother, I gave to the two of you. You...you know that right?"

All of a sudden, with the look he saw in her eyes, he was not so certain.

"Ari?"