Polyboea brought the comb through Hyacinthus' hair, carefully, as to not tug on it too hard.
"Your hair never knots." She said, an ever-present smile plastered on her face. Her hair curled much like his own, deep brown and coiled at the ends. Her hair was often pulled back neatly, secured with ribbons and beads; but right now, early in the morning, her hair was loose and long, resting at her midback. She'd probably let him brush it later. "You must teach me your secrets."
"I'm afraid there's no secrets to tell. At least that I know of." He replied, letting her set the comb aside and run her fingers through his hair.
His hair was long these days, reaching just above his chin. It was a sign of his age, that he was no longer a child, regardless of how his family treated him. Often he would let it fall freely in his face, but sometimes he would wear a band, pushing it back out of his eyes and making whatever activity he was doing much easier.
"Then you are lucky." She continued to brush. She seemed to take great delight in spending time with him.
"I suppose I am."
Her smile was as bright as the sun.
It had been a great devastation to Greek men everywhere when Polyboea announced her intention to be a priestess. It meant she could not marry, she had to remain a virgin to serve a virgin goddess, and she had said it had been one of the many reliefs of joining the priesthood. "Men can be incorrigibly foul." she had said, "I have never desired to marry one."
Hyacinthus did not disagree. Cynortas was most certainly foul, and incorrigible, and any other negative adjective he could think of. If Cynortas was the future hope for Sparta, he thought, then Sparta was lost.
Argalus was okay, as was Thamyris and his father. Hyacinthus hadn't known Apollo long enough to know if he was okay; he seemed to be, if a bit flirtatious and brash.
"You know, a messenger arrived a couple of days ago, from Argos." Polyboea continued, setting the comb down and swapping places with Hyacinthus, who had been sat on the tiled ground. "It appears that Argalus is getting married."
Hyacinthus frowned. He had heard nothing of this.
"Argalus is getting married?" He questioned, slowly bringing the comb through Polyboea's hair. "To whom?"
"The king's eldest daughter. I think her name is Xanthippe, or something along those lines. I don't remember. We've met...once? I think?" She shook her head. "It was years ago.
Hyacinthus thought for a moment, before he realised where he'd heard that name before.
"By Xanthippe, do you mean 'Xanthippe, the girl Cynortas was interested in'?"
Polyboea smiled. "The girl who rejected him? Yes. I was rather amused when I heard it too; I look forward to seeing his reaction when he finds out." She laughed. "He'll probably be keen to get Cynortas married too, and Laodamia."
"Not us?"
"Not us." She concurred. "A perk of being a virgin priestess and the youngest son: we can do what we like."
Hyacinthus laughed.
It was true. As the youngest child, not only the youngest son, Hyacinthus had almost complete free reign to do as he wished, which was probably one of the reason Cynortas resented him. Cynortas had responsibilities, and for the most part Hyacinthus did not.
Of course he had to learn how to run the country, in case of a great tragedy/blessing, as well as learning everything expected of a man of his social standing, but he wasn't expected to learn much more than that. It was one of the reasons that, as a twenty year old man, he was allowed to frolic around with other men such as Thamyris (though he'd probably be married off at some point, to keep up appearances).
"Do you miss Thamyris?" Polyboea asked softly.
It was as if she had read his mind.
"No." Hyacinthus replied. "But I suppose I will, in time. He was my friend."
"Were you not interested in him?" She grinned. "Not even in the slightest?"
"No. He was an attractive man sure, anyone could admit that, but I was not interested in him. I saw him as nothing more than a friend."
"Are you sure?" She teased. "Never?"
"Never."
"Never ever?"
"Zeus help me, no."
Polyboea laughed. "Are you interested in anyone?"
He hesitated, but Polyboea didn't notice.
"No."
Zephyrus stood at the summit of Mount Taygetus and looked down at the city beneath him.
Sparta has always been an interesting place to him; massively cut off from the rest of world, hidden away in a valley, silent in the way of wars and political intrigue. It was a fortress, with locked gates and hidden treasures, and Zephyrus wanted to uncover them.
No place hides itself away for no reason, He thought. They must be hiding something, surely.
It was a rather bustling place from above, with a crowded Agora and frequented temples, but in comparison to places like Athens, the domain of Athena, and Argos, the domain of Hera, Sparta was nothing more than a glorified village.
Apollo certainly has interesting choices.
Whilst most gods chose to offer their patronage to bigger, more influential cities, Apollo seemed to offer his patronage to smaller, less influential places, to places of sentimental value.
Zephyrus didn't understand that phrase, 'sentimental value'. He'd lost his feeling of sentiment long ago, when he realised that it made you weak. Sentiment gives people something to take, it gives people a way to hurt you, and Zephyrus had had enough of being hurt.
"Careful." A voice said, from behind him. It came into land with a quiet flutter of feathers and a folding of wings. "Your cynicism is showing."
"I don't like it when you do that." Zephyrus replied, still looking down at the city. "Read my mind."
"I didn't read your mind, I read your face." Eros pinched his cheek and Zephrus slapped his hand away. "You've always got such a long face. So..." His wigs fluttered. "angry."
Zephyrus frowned.
"There you go again! Stop frowning, you'll get wrinkles."
"Can immortal beings get wrinkles?" He furrowed his brows in confusion, then was very aware that he had done so. Eros was very good at feel uncomfortable.
So...omnipotent.
"Have you seen Zeus' face recently?" He laughed. "He looks like an old mortal man. Hera is too pretty for him, too good for him, the dirty little toe rag."
This man is fearless, Zephyrus thought. "Couldn't you do something about that?"
Eros grinned. He hated it when Zephyrus grinned. "I could, but where's the fun in that? The world would be boring if I made people happy."
Zephyrus didn't say anything. He couldn't think of an appropriate, or indeed a proportionate response.
"You've bern staring down at the city for hours." Eros continued. "Does looking down at mortals make you feel important for a change?"
Zephyrus smacked his arm.
"I was just...looking." He said, before shrugging. "Don't know why."
"If I were you, I'd avoid this place like the plague. This place is Apollo's domain, he loves it. I wouldn't want you to go overstepping your bounds."
Zephyrus chuckled under his breath. "What could Apollo do to hurt me?"
"He could flay you alive for one." Eros said. "I'd be careful of him Zephy; don't get too close to what isn't yours."
"Nothing is mine." He replied.
"Good gods, this is a pity party isn't it?" Eros rolled his eyes, but was still smiling. He never seemed to take anything seriously. "Go down there if you really want to, but remember when everything goes wrong and Apollo smites you: I warned you."
"I will take heed of your warning most fervently." Zephyrus said sarcastically. "I will be cautious, I assure you."
"I know you're lying when you take on that fancy tone of yours, coming out with all of these big words."
"I never lie." (He was being sarcastic then too.)
Eros shook his head and spread his wings, preparing to take flight.
"I am the god of love Zephy, I know when you're lying."