Chapter Sixteen
"You're doing well," Atlan commented as I lunged for him, swinging my fist at his face, then dodging one of his attacks to counterattack him from behind, but he threw his head back against my nose. I snarled in pain, stumbling back to clutch my nose as blood poured down my face. He paused, just for a split second to check the damage, giving me enough time to slam into him and pin him to the ground.
He smirked as I breathed raggedly, sitting on his chest with my hands around his throat; not quite tight enough to choke the life out of him, but enough to prove a point. Part of me wanted to kill Atlan, right here, right now, but that wasn't for me to do and something told me the Source wouldn't be particularly happy about my stealing Hannibal's destiny. I'd stolen enough from him anyway.
"I've brought treats," came Dianna's voice from somewhere behind me. I frowned, getting to my feet and helping Atlan up automatically before we went to the small tray Dianna set up with the snacks. Atlan smiled, inclining his head to Dianna, who bowed before she departed. He watched her go and I raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of wine.
"Don't you have a wife?" I asked. Atlan blinked as if he just remembered the fact and passed me a secret smile before he took a drink of his own wine, moving around me to grab a cracker off the tray.
"Which reminds me, Menoetius, I have a gift for you."
"The fact that adultery reminded you of giving me a gift unsettles me," I replied. Atlan laughed, surprising me. It wasn't one of his bitter chuckles or smirks, but an actual laugh. He shook his head and gestured for me to follow him to another door in the arena that led to the changing areas where warriors would go to change into their uniforms. It was my least favorite room in the entire palace because of the mirrored walls that showed every angle of the people standing in the middle of the room, and I had come to hate mirrors even more after my stay here.
But I said nothing as Atlan led me into the mirrored room and I kept my eyes on his back in front of me, ignoring our reflections that followed us on the walls as he went to a black box seated on a desk in the room. I watched, curious, as he opened the box and turned to face me, making my eyes widen at the jewelry in the box.
It was extremely expensive, and I didn't need any specialist to confirm that. The jewelry set was made entirely of real polished gold with glittering rubies inlaid in the metal. The necklace started out as a collar with drapes of thin gold chains dangling around it, as if it were made up of a thousand necklaces strung together, and the collar itself was encrusted with rubies. It matched the bangles and anklets that went with it.
It was something one would definitely give to their wife, not their tool.
"I'm not a jewelry person," I said aloud without really thinking, still dazzled by the jewelry. It was the truth; my assumption was that no amount of jewelry would change the way I looked. Therefore, why purchase? Not to mention, if Iapetus had ever caught me with any jewelry, he'd strangle me with it. Jewelry was a woman thing-- a married woman thing. Then again, why take advice from a god who had to drug a woman to attack her because he knew attacking her sober would throw him on his ass?
"It's not just any jewelry," Atlan said with a smile, holding it toward me so I could admire the craftswork in the light dangling over our heads, "This is the jewelry that was created by one of the first demon's, the sister to Joxeia and Xiphrus. It was made in order to ensure connection to the Source, to make conversation and premonitions clearer when coming in from the Source." I raised an eyebrow. If that was the case, he must have taken very good care of it because the jewelry looked like it had just been made, mint condition. Brand fucking new.
"Are those rubies?" I asked, cocking my head to study the necklace. Atlan smiled.
"Better, a red bloodstone, the sacred stone of the Demon of Wisdom, Geara. She used the last of her stash to create these."
"And you're giving them to... me?" I asked to make sure. Atlan nodded.
"You have perfected your physical skills. The next level of training is your mental training. At this point, you will be able to summon premonitions without use of the Orb. You will be able to hear thoughts and move things with your mind. In order to do this, you must have concentrate and connection to the Source. The only thing in the world that can truly read the future is the Source, and the Source will allow you to take glimpses into the future, into the past, and even the present in other places. This jewelry will make it much easier for you to do all of this."
Of course, because you can't give me jewelry just because. I wasn't sure why that bothered me so much, so I focused on the jewelry, fascinated by its age and the incredible power it held.
"Would you like me to help you with the necklace? The clasps are a bit odd," he said, startling me. I looked up at him warily.
"No, I can do it... I guess." To be honest, the jewelry was way too beautiful. It certainly wasn't something I should be wearing, especially if it was made by St. John's sister. For some reason, it felt like I was sullying them by wearing them. However, Atlan was staring at me intently and if I wanted to continue playing his game, I'd have to act like I was convinced by everything he was saying.
I took the necklace carefully from the box, savoring the weight of it in my hands. It was heavy, but pleasantly so. It reminded me of holding a cat.
I undid the clasps and started to try and fit it around my neck, but like Atlan had said, my fingers struggled to keep a grip on the ancient clasps. Atlan inclined his head and came over to help me. Instantly I felt uneasy having him stand behind me, and so close too. I could practically feel his breath against the back of my neck.
"Here, take off your shirt. The collar is interfering with the chains." Okay. I didn't appreciate that particular request, but for some reason, I found myself slipping my shirt off over my head and dropping it on the floor. Now even more nervous than I was before, I looked down, reaching up to hold my hair back as Atlan did the clasps on the necklace. I focused on the stone bricks of the flooring as he finally clasped the necklace and moved to take out the bangles that he slipped right onto my hands. I wasn't sure why I didn't take over from there.
I suddenly didn't feel like doing anything. So I stood there in silence as he clasped the anklets on, then rose slowly and sucked in a sharp breath. I frowned, wondering briefly if he'd changed his mind about the jewelry.
"You suit them well," he said. I just inclined my head, keeping my eyes downcast as I admired the weight of the gold, the shimmer of the gems in the light. I felt Atlan's hands on my arms and froze at the touch. My muscles locked and a chill crept up my spine. I waited for him to slam me into the floor or stab me in the back, but instead, he moved his hand around to the front of me to force my head up so I was looking at the mirror, making me grimace.
I could've handled being stabbed much better.
"Why aren't you looking? It looks wonderful," Atlan said, apparently not noticing my extreme discomfort, "The red goes well with your dark eyes and hair. Geara would be happy to know someone suitable has finally come along to wear her jewelry." I couldn't find the words to respond to that because instead of seeing whatever the hell Atlan was seeing, I saw the look of disgust on Hannibal's face when he found out how I felt about him. The childish part of me that hoped he would at least accept me as his brother if nothing else was crushed in that single moment. Zeus's words came crashing down on my head.
"This is all Iapetus could manage? A two cent whore? Even the Cyclops weep at the sight of you."
The girl from the mall when I'd leapt away from her, the scathing glare she raked over my body and the thought that I shouldn't really give a shit what some strange woman thought was drowned out by the self-hatred brought on by her reaction to me.
Hades's constant blustering whenever he came around me, reminding me that without him, I wouldn't be where I was today with the half-way decent corpse he pulled out of his ass last minute.
Atlas's taunting and poking and prodding at me until I smashed all the mirrors in my room and bathing quarters because I was so sick and tired of the voices that reminded me of something I wanted so desperately to forget.
All of it came rushing back, making my temples throb as I shut my eyes against the reflection staring back at me.
"Menoetius?" Atlan's curious question came right near my ear and my breath hitched sharply, my knees buckling. I felt his arms catch me under mine, lowering me carefully to the floor and kneeling down beside me.
"What's wrong? Is it too heavy?" He asked. I shook my head. I didn't want to answer him. I didn't want him to hear my voice. I didn't trust myself to speak without stuttering. I reached up, rubbing at my forearms, feeling the ridges of the scars there, the bangles jingling when I bumped into them. I flinched at the feel of them, then quickly started to unclasp each one, pushing it into Atlan's hands.
"I can't accept these," I said, finally finding my voice. Atlan frowned instantly, taking my hand and stopping me so he could push the bracelets back into my hands.
"You must. Not only will they assist in your training, but it's beautiful--"
"Just stop," I snapped abruptly, watching Atlan stare at me calmly, "Stop playing this game with me. Be realistic. Just flat out tell me you're fucking with me so you can lure me to your side. Don't do this pathetic game of toying with me. I'm really sick of it. You're more like your son and the hybrid than you care to admit. You all just fucking love playing mind games with people. Is it an Atlantean thing? To want to get into someone's head and fuck them up? News flash, My King, but Hannibal already fucked me up. You're too late." I snatched off the rest of the bangles, thrusting them at Atlan, who caught them, then caught my wrist before I could shoot to my feet and leave.
"Take the necklace off," I snapped, assuming that was why he stopped me. Atlan slowly rose to his feet, collecting the bangles in one hand and moving around behind me. I thought he intended to remove the necklace when he put his hands on my shoulders again, sending vicious chills through me.
"Before you do, I want you to look in the mirror and tell me exactly what you see. Your powers are different from mine and I appear to be looking at something quite different," Atlan said gently, making me narrow my eyes, "I do not lie to anyone. I never lied to the hybrid, nor did I lie to Arikos. I didn't even lie to Xiphrus. It's not my fault that the truth sometimes stings, but in this case, it seems to do so with you and it confuses me." I tsked and rolled my eyes, reaching back to try and take the necklace off myself, but Atlan caught my hands and lowered them.
For some reason, I didn't slap him away, just watched him in the mirror warily.
"What do you see, Menoetius?" Atlan asked, now meeting my eyes in the mirror. I locked my jaw tight, watching the muscles in my reflection flex in response to my aggravation and discomfort with this whole thing.
What did I see? I saw someone who needed a goddamn haircut. Someone who needed more muscle mass because he'd lost over a dozen pounds in the past few months. Someone who needed their eyes gouged out because they were just too big for one face.
"Your face is too pretty, Menoetius! We ought to just throw you one of mum's peplos and send you out to war like that. One look at you and the enemy would run screaming from the battlefield!"
Atlas's laughter rang in my ears, like the shrieking yip of a hyena. Prometheus and Epimetheus just laughed to egg him on, and Clymene had never been any help either. I could still feel her hand pinching my jaw as she studied me on my thirteenth birthday.
"You're too pretty, Menoetius. It disgusts me. Scar yourself in the coming battles so that I may at least brag of your conquests to my sisters. Have you any idea how humiliating it is to have a son who is less than a god and less than a man? What am I to do? What have I done to deserve this kind of punishment from the Source?"
And Hannibal's expression stung most of all. The way he moved out of my way whenever I came near him, as if he couldn't stand to touch me, and the only time he did was to hit me. Granted, I purposely made him hit me because at least he was touching me. At least he was paying attention to me when I pissed him off. It was stupid, it was masochistic, it was wrong. And he knew it.
"Menoetius?" Atlan pressed gently. I rolled my tongue against my teeth, thinking of a response that wasn't completely bathed in self-pity. The last thing I needed was this asshole to prey on that.
"Disgusting," was all I answered with. It was the truth. It was short, sweet, and to the point. It was everyone's favorite word to describe me anyway. This way, I was the one admitting to it. I knew it and I didn't need anyone to tell me or remind me.
"I see," Atlan said slowly, making me frown as I waited for him to agree, bracing myself for another round of What the Fuck is Wrong with Menoetius Today, "And who told you these things?"
"Everyone," I said without thinking. I felt strange. Like the fight in me was draining out suddenly. I felt deflated, tired. I didn't want to play his game anymore. I wanted to be back in Tartarus. Gods, I regretted ever complaining about that cold sterile cell. I missed the quiet. The occasional peaceful moments when I wasn't being tortured. I enjoyed being alone.
But knowing I'd never have that kind of peace again suddenly hit me like a chariot. I was forever caught in a game I wanted no part of.
"The hybrid?" Atlan asked. I frowned, glancing at him.
"Yes."
"He said you were disgusting?"
"Some things don't need words."
"But you don't know."
"And you don't know Hannibal," I said dryly, fingering the scars on my wrists absentmindedly, "The bastard thinks he's got the poker face mastered, but he can be read like a book. His eyes give away everything. The first time he saw me after my death, he cringed." Atlan's eyes darkened at that. I could see the gears moving in his head and to be honest, I wasn't sure why I said anything. I just didn't care anymore. I couldn't find it in me to care.
What was the point? Atlan already had me. He said he would let me go, but he was bullshitting me just like everyone else. Even if he did let me go, where the fuck was I supposed to go? Back to Hannibal? He'd probably slam the door shut in my face. Arikos? He'd probably feel like he finally won me over to their side. I couldn't even think of another person who'd give a shit about me. A tiny voice reminded me of Amenti, but what could she do? She was a child, and far too sweet and innocent to be around me. I should've never been kind to her in the beginning. I should've never even talked to her. Because of me, she was probably dead.
"I don't play games," Atlan said after a moment, making me frown and look up at his reflection in the mirror, and a shiver wracked me at the nearness of his voice, "I do enjoy your presence, Menoetius, but even I know when one has taken it too many times and is too tired. You have fought long and hard and still got nothing you wanted... I can give you what you want most." I laughed bitterly at that.
"Rhea already offered me Hannibal. It won't work," I assured, idly reaching up to string my hand along the chains of the necklace. Atlan reached up and caught my hand, making me frown and look up to meet his eyes, going still at the intensity there. He pulled my hand away from the necklace and held it out so that my palm was facing up, his hand cupping mine. A ripple of magic tickled the air over my palm and a second later, a napkin appeared, making my eyes widen slightly.
"That is not what you want most," Atlan murmured near my ear, "What you want most in this world is to leave it. Leave it without hurting anyone. Leave it in peace. The peace you finally deserve." I froze, staring at the paper in my palm, realizing only just now that my hand shook.
"It's not possible," I managed, "If I die, the universe--"
"This is a spell created by your Hades," Atlan said softly, "With this spell, any god can leave this life forever. No harm. No foul."
"How do you know--"
"Because I tested it," Atlan replied briefly, making me frown and look at him curiously, "Believe me, Menoetius. In my hand, I hold the one thing you want most and all that I ask is that you allow me to have what I want most." I eyed him.
"You want to destroy the universe."
"I want to save the universe."
Hesitance brewed in my stomach as I stared at the scrap of paper in his palm. It was so flimsy, so simple, and right in front of my face. It held such an incredible power. With that spell, I'd finally be able to die. I'd finally be able to have the peace I wanted so desperately... But at what cost? Atlan said he wanted to save the universe, and his reasoning was logical-- The Source was a dictator. A cold, merciless entity that needed to be replaced.
Atlan had done awful things, though. He certainly wasn't a capable leader. He'd slaughtered his own children one by one. He tortured Anexius, killed his lover. He nearly killed Xenon. He'd tortured Arikos and Hannibal. He'd been willing to murder Hannibal as a child, for nothing more than his own power. He'd tricked the demon, Xiphrus, into falling in love with him and then using Xiphrus against his own siblings, one of which was eternally encased as he had been and the third a bitter asshole. He was the birth of betrayal, greed, rage.
I'd be helping that monster, exactly as the Source dictated. It didn't matter what path I chose, because despite not being in the whorsehouse with Tiberius and his men anymore, I was still getting fucked over sideways and there was nothing I could do. The only choice I was being given that gave me any sort of relief was being able to die and forget about everything. I would be nothing. It would be glorious.
What would it be like to never worry? What would it be like to have my soul never exist? Was it quiet? Was it restful? Was it peaceful?
"It's your decision," Atlan said, his voice spearing my thoughts and my heart leaping in alarm when he closed his fist on the spell, sending it back to wherever he'd summoned it from, "You need not make it now. I was serious about training you. I was serious about you keeping those gems in order to assist in your training. You need this training no matter what choice you make, Menoetius. I was simply giving you another option, because it appears the hybrid never gave you a choice." I bit back a foul curse at the fact that he was right.
Hannibal gave me no choice. I didn't want to come back. I liked my cell. I liked my peace and quiet. Then he had to come along and rip me out of my sanctuary, again. There was nowhere I could go where that asshole wouldn't find me... except total death. Total non-existence.
"Take the jewelry back to your room," Atlan told me gently, "We'll resume your mental training tomorrow." He moved away from me to place the bangles back in the box, closing it and handing it to me. I took the box, inclining my head and leaving to my quarters. Somehow, I didn't get lost on my way back to my quarters this time. I knew my way back and found it quite easily, located not far from the kitchen, or the arena. My room was at the center of the palace.
I went in and set the box down on the vanity across the room, then looked up before I realized Atlan hadn't removed the necklace. I touched the gold around my neck, then lowered my eyes from the mirror on the vanity. I turned away from it, closing my eyes and sighing.
Death or duty, Menoetius. You have to choose sooner or later.