Athenia had been thrown in chaos. And it all started with that damn pirate.

The former Head of the Athenian Guard blamed himself, in many ways, for its downfall. If he hadn’t been so focused on the damn man who had brainwashed his sister, he would have let his attention from the city fall. He would have been able to do his duty to keep the peace. At the initial downfall of Midas, he had tried half-heartedly to keep the peace. But the death of his own father had catapulted him into politics.

He had been ready for the life of a Baron and a Senator prior. But King Elias doubted him at every turn and had turned most of the forum against him as well. The stress bled over into his once happy home. And suddenly, he found his house empty, his family abandoning him in favor of his younger brother. The alcohol became his only comfort, even once the King had been murdered to allow Persephone to take the throne. He tried to regain his dignity within Senate, but whatever good favor he’d had was lost.

And the only person he had to blame for the downfall had been the Baron.

The man had captured his sister, raped her and somehow convinced her that it was love. And in that ‘love’, she had convinced the then princess to make a deal with Hades to gain the throne. And Persephone had lost the fight, but the pirate had kept his spoils. Everyone else seemed to lose but him. And over the years, he’d bit his tongue at the order of the Queen. It wasn’t his fault that Elias ambushed them, and was able to retake the throne for a time. And the relationship with Lukos and Thalia, she had reasoned, was truer than he would think.

Somehow, kidnap and rape did not equal love.

He had enough. If he was to save his nephews from the madness that was the pirate, it would mean the death of their father. They would forgive him, as he would make sure that they were raised with morals and values that lacked in the man. It didn’t matter to him that this would break his sister-- she would recover and would soon realize that she hadn’t been in love with him. This was the only way for him to regain his family, to regain any sort of pride he had left.

This was about justice, that had been years in the making. And damn it if he wasn’t going to enjoy it.

The ride to the home of his brother in law only enforced his idea that he was to blame. The Gods demanded satisfaction, in the way that he had angered them. Justice was demanded, and he would see it done.

The last thing he wanted to do was wake the house, his armor seeming a bit overkill. But the musical clink of metal on metal, with his sword at his side, was comforting. He knew this home well, having suffered his company in favor of getting to know the little men the bastard was raising. He entered the yard, quickly making his way into the main part of the house. He could feel the man in the shadows but wasn’t sure which corner he was in. The alcohol had numbed his senses in the past, but this night, he was sober.

“Men don’t hide, Lukos.” He said gently, not wishing to wake the house. “Face me and your fate, brother.” The last words were spit from his lips, the contempt obvious.

Men like Lukos were easy to bait. Hell, if Diomedes took a moment to look at him more closely, he would have realized that the two of them were cut from a very similar cloth. Not knowing much about his past (besides being a soulless pirate), the man could have admitted to himself that he could have been put on a very different course, should life have thrown him different obstacles. Instead, his father had done everything he could to raise strong, morally sound children who were productive adults.

Until they weren’t anymore.

He knew exactly how to push his buttons, simply because he would have come out of hiding at the same words. And maybe that was one of the reasons that Diomedes hated Lukos-- he could see much of his own character in his brother-in-law and that idea drove him mad. He was certain that he was nothing like the pirate who kidnapped and raped without a thought. And yet, here he was, seeking justice in a way that would have angered the people who he had tried to honor.

But they were dead and gone. And the Gods demand retribution.

As he stepped into sight, the grip on his own blade tightened. “You are one to talk.” He goaded, “Tell me, do you even do anything to keep your tenants on their lands? Or do you just let Thalia handle all that.” He was begging him to make the first move, then his death would only be further justified by self-defense. “Barely a Senator, not even a true baron. Like the King, you tried to keep off the throne.”

Lukos ran at the statue to the left of the room, across from the doorway. On the altar still sat offerings of fruit that would not be cleared away until morning, when new selections would be put in their place. He stooped to grab a fist full and flung them at Diomedes, aiming to distract him so that he could get through his sword’s reach. The dagger in his hand was ready to draw blood.

Diomedes watched him run, stalking him across the room. The fruit was unexpected, but not exactly unforeseen. Thalia, having to use different tactics in a fight, often employed distraction as her main tactic. “Looks like you and Thalia fight the same.” He dodged the majority of the fruit with ease, letting the rest hit his armor. “I’ve been waiting to do this for years. You think I’d get the same satisfaction from an unfair fight?” He gave Lukos the chance to arm himself, “Unlike you, I don’t kill unarmed boys.”

He stopped in his advancement. It was clear that if he kept going with the dagger, the fight would be quick and not to his advantage. Keeping Diomedes in his sights, he backed up to the hallway that would lead him back to his room. The wait for his attacker was short. Lukos came back with his sword, ready to face off against his brother in law.

Holding the sword at the ready, he waited for Diomedes to make the first move.

He almost stopped him from going back to the room, knowing that if Thalia was at all involved, the fight would be over before it began, All she would have had to do was gently touch his shoulder and he would have left. And would have never again sought out his brother’s death. He would have left Greece altogether, unable to stomach the idea of having to deal with Lukos and his traitorous ways.

Even if it meant losing his nephews.

Diomedes was relieved to see that he came back alone, sword in hand. Good, at least he was willing to die honorably. There was a first time for everything. Silently, he lunged forward, wanting a bit more of a fight than just one life-ending blow. His sword sliced downward, expecting the confrontation of steel on steel. He needed this to be worth it, should he be discovered.

Lukos raised his sword, bending at the knees as he held off Diomedes’ first attack. With effort, he inched his feet out to get a little bit of distance. In one move, he hefted his sword up, forcing the other man’s away while at the same moment, rearing back and landing a solid kick to Diomedes’ chest. As his opponent stumbled backward, Lukos leaped toward him, slashing and hacking in a flurry of vengeance.

Had he been drunk, the kick would have sent him to his knees. But he had made a point to stay sober the last few days, so it only knocked him off balance. A wide stance helped him block each slashing movement. His fighting style was obviously less calculated and practiced, nothing like his years of military training. Even as mad as he was, even as determined as he was to seek his vengeance, he was patient enough to wait for the mistake.

Each blow was easily blocked, met with his own party. It only took him a moment to pick up on his style, enough to know that his reliance on his back foot for stability. At the neck slash, he turned slightly, just enough to cause the slight shift in his stance. So he took a play out of his book, instead of kicking his shin as he moved, grinning at the way he stumbled.

His father had always compared this kind of battle to a dance. One man always taking the lead, the other following. Sometimes, able to keep up, others, missing the beat. The footwork had to match the upper body. A dip here. A spin there. He had spent the better part of his life perfecting his dance, while all Lukos could do was parry back and hope that he would keep his ground. And for a while, Diomedes was content with allowing Lukos to think he was holding his own. They started in the main room, with Diomedes always directing the fighting away from the living space.

Shelves were knocked over, small knick-knacks hitting the floor as the dance turned more carnal. They moved from room to room, unable to stop the occasional displacement of the home. But Diomedes took care not to break anything of value, not to let anything loud slam into the floor. It was critical that the fight stays silent.
And for the most part, it did.

Lukos had never been in the battle like he had, never had to sustain his stamina for hours with the drive to stay alive. And that was one of the reasons that he never stood a chance. Where the pirate began to lose steam, Diomedes only seemed to gain more. While Lukos had managed a few minor cuts, the other man had good sized wounds.

The fight made its way out to the courtyard, and that was the point in which Diomedes made his move. The soldier kept a bit of his distance, allowing Lukos one last conscious look at the house he had stolen. At the life, a title he’d been wrongly given had created for him. Then, one well-placed swing disarmed the dark-haired man. Diomedes grabbed ahold of his partially bloodied shoulder and pulled him in close. “Do not worry, Brother. My sister and her children will be well cared for. They will not pay for your sins.”

It took a lot of force to run a man through. The bones of the rib cage were designed to protect the vital organs, so blows that would cause an instant death was difficult to land. But Diomedes’ well-placed sword landed just below his rib cage, angling upward into his lungs and diaphragm. Not instant, but quick nonetheless. “They are free of you.” As quickly as he sliced through the organs, he pulled out his blade.

Tossing both him and the sword backward, the elder man stepped back and took a moment to catch his breath.

And let the man die in peace.