refusetofight | For @messageforyou

Lyra is having a grand time. She still aches from what happened with Pyrrhus, her thoughtful nature making her incapable of entirely letting it go, but she's still young enough to be distracted with earthly delights. And Leon, her new puppy, is absolutely an earthly delight.

Mistress Medea said that Leon was the best of his litter, the progeny of mighty and protective war dogs, and that he was all Lyra's to raise and love. Leon is big for a puppy, requiring that Lyra use both arms to pick him up, and his big paws promise an intimidating size when he's grown. But he's been the perfect playmate.

Lyra's trying to teach him how to swim. She's always been a strong swimmer. But as she swims in the shallows and calls for Leon to follow, he nervously paces the shore, whining. She can't tell if he's whining because he wants to come out and play and he's too scared to, or because he's worried that she is swimming in the big sea, and either way it makes her giggle.

But a gull alights on the sand, and Leon swings to face it, barking mightily and snapping his jaws at the air, warning the impertinent bird away. And Lyra laughs at this too.

"Leon, it's a gull, silly," she says as she starts to swim to shore. Her feet hit the sand, and she shakes the saltwater from her hair. "Gulls aren't dangerous."

Leon, however, seems sure that this gull is indeed a terrible threat, and barks and growls as he meets Lyra at the shore and sets himself between her and the bird. No bird is going to harm his mistress, no siree, even though at this age the bird is honestly bigger than he is.

A nereid is not so easily intimidated. The gull watches the pup’s threat with as much boredom as a bird can project. She’s not overly-fond of dogs—they remind her of mortal men, boisterous and chaotic and sometimes very stupid—but most dogs are still better than most men.

A more trustworthy companion for her granddaughter, at any rate.

Thetis has observed Lyra’s intent, though, and thinks she can be of some assistance here; she heads toward the water and the girl with exaggerated, flapping hops and scolding cries. If the pup wants to protect his mistress from this dire threat, he’s going to have to brave the water to do it.

Lyra is delighted by the gull. Even if most people think they're nuisances, she still thinks they're quite pretty, with their smooth white feathers and sharp eyes and little spots of red on their beaks like they painted themselves with makeup.

So she crouches as the gull comes towards her, at first assuming that it must think she has food, and she grins, watching its flapping little jumps. "You're so pretty. You have very pretty wings."

But Leon, on the other hand, does not believe that this is a whimsical moment of appreciating nature's beauty. Leon believes this is RED ALERT and a TERRIBLE situation because the awful horrible no good bird is COMING TOWARDS HIS MISTRESS and HOPPING THROUGH THE SALTY LAVA TO DO IT--

Leon paces the edge of the shore, whimpering and whining, trying to convince his mistress to come back to him and away from the bird, but no, his mistress is mesmerized, taken in by the wiles of the terrible feathered fiend, he can't lose her not like this not so fast--

Leon lets out a war howl and barrels into the salty lava, snarling and snapping his teeth on his way in between his mistress and the evil bird... and he promptly trips over his giant paws and flips his face into the water.

"Leon!" Lyra laughs, stepping lightly to pluck her wet puppy from the sand, giggling as the dog gives her many relieved kisses and helplessly tries to paddle his giant paws in the air.

The gull gives a short squawk, almost a laugh. What a funny little beast. At least he can work up the nerve to face a little sea water to protect his charge.

She summons up a swell of water under the pup’s belly to help lift it into Lyra’s arms. Lyra’s unabashed joy matches Achilles’ at that age and it stings. Thetis reflexively retreats a few yards away to bob on the incoming swells like a paper boat.

What does she think she’s doing? A blink of her eye and this child will be grown and bathed in mortal misery. A breath and she’ll be dead—killed by age or violence. Thetis stretches her wings and wills herself to dive into the waves and follow the currents into cold, dark places, but Lyra’s giggles keep her tethered to this moment in the sun.

She paddles nearer to Leon, chittering and goading him further into the water.

Lyra notices something odd with the water. She's played in the sea too much not to. But she doesn't have time to dwell, because Leon is trying very hard to get to this bird.

This beast! This foul feathered fiend! Leon barks at the creature, paddling his legs faster in the air. Ohhhhh when he is on the ground, will he get this bird--

Lyra gently lowers Leon into the water, and Leon starts whimpering again, fighting against the terrible tide of lazy sea foam fighting to kill him most horribly. Lyra keeps her hand under his belly, keeping him afloat as he remembers to use his legs.

"Swimming is fun, I promise," Lyra says gently as Leon struggles to realize he is not currently drowning. "I'll swim a lot, and I want you to swim with me. Daddy says we all like the sea just like grandma. So does Pyrrhus. There's lots of fun things in the sea once you can swim."

She's aware of the pretty gull, still chittering at her puppy. It's amusing, cause for more giggles, seeing how animals act with each other. Lots of grownups don't seem to think animals have personalities, but they definitely do. Even the wild animals. Lyra likes it when she sees them.

The gull’s wings fluff, her head twitches. Grandma. It’s strange, but she doesn’t dislike it.

Thetis is accustomed to a narrow sense of family. Her closest family—her many sisters—follow her lead, but with a mix of respect, jealousy, fear. All of which is isolating. She was coveted as a consort, given to a mortal as a valuable wife. A beloved prize. It was only after Achilles was born that she first felt real love.

Lyra pronounces the words with the same uncomplicated love that Achilles once did. Daddy. Grandma.

Thetis continues teasing and summons up another gentle swell to keep the pup confidently buoyant. The water moves entirely contrary to the marching tide, but she doesn’t expect a child of Lyra’s age to notice.

Lyra definitely notices the second time the water behaves strangely. The first time might have been a mistake, but the second is a sign.

Leon starts to realize he can paddle his paws in the water, and it seems to assist him in moving, but the awful terrible no good salty lava keeps on moving around him. He tries to snap at the sea foam to make it stop lapping against him. The foam is unperturbed. He snaps more, sure that eventually it'll get the message.

Lyra keeps her hand under Leon's belly, just in case he starts to sink, but her eyes grow keen as she looks towards the only other visible living creature in the vicinity--the gull. There's one person she knows who'd be able to do things with water that might want to talk to her. And it wouldn't be the first relative that comes to her as an animal instead of a person, for reasons she doesn't always quite grasp.

She could pretend that she doesn't realize, but that seems sad. She doesn't know if she'll ever get to talk to her grandma again.

"If you don't want to talk, that's okay," Lyra says to the gull. "And if you don't want to be a person, that's okay too. Papa doesn't like to be a person either, sometimes. But I'd like it if you stayed for a while."

The cultivated rumor is that Lyra is one of Lord Apollo’s, and at first glance she’d believe it. But those keen eyes wouldn’t hold up to closer scrutiny. Apollo is intelligent, but not clever.

Those eyes are all Lord Hermes.

With her son’s tenacity and Hermes’ bright wit, Lyra is destined for trouble. Thetis knows how much Achilles will worry about her; she can imagine him restless in the Underworld, pacing circles in Elysium.

The gull blinks, ensuring the shore is empty of any other mortals before she plunges under the water. Thetis emerges a moment later, unfolding to her full nereid’s shape: the gull’s grey feathers turn to a flowing himation, nearly pale as her skin, while her long, golden curls hang dark and heavy with sea water. Her edges blend where they meet the surf, as if this form is as transient as the waves themselves.

“Your pup is quite brave,” she says with a smallest amused arch in her brow.

Lyra looks up at Thetis with wide, curious eyes. She finds it so interesting how different gods look from each other. Thoth and Hermes look very different, even though they both have bird parts, and Thetis looks very different from both of them, like she's a piece of the sea that decided to come up for sun. They are all very pretty, but very pretty in different ways.

"Mistress Medea says that he was bred from war dogs for bravery, and sheepdogs for being nice to kids. She wanted me to have a dog that'd bite people who hurt me, but wouldn't bite me if I stepped on his tail."

She picks up Leon from the surf, presenting the pup to her grandmother as if showing her a cool rock. Leon, for his part, is very confused by this new development. Bird turned into water lady??? He has not seen this before??? Is this normal? He whines and wiggles in confusion, struggling to make sense of this.

"You want to say hi to him? His name is Leon," Lyra says. "And mine is Lyra. But I think you knew that already."

Medea was a curious choice for Lyra’s guardian, but the woman demands some grudging respect; she’s willing to put mortal men in their place and men, Thetis knows, will be Lyra’s greatest threat.

She extends a pale hand for Leon to sniff, then caresses his head. Her fingers are long—made longer by her nails, a cool purple at the base of their beds. Everything about her is long and graceful, like she would blend in with a kelp forest.

She tilts her head and folds her hands in front of her. The water calms around them and tiny fish teem around her ankles, glinting silver in the sun. “I trust you know my name, child?”

Leon sniffs diligently at the water lady's hand. Sniff sniff snuff snuff yes notes of bird but much salty lava smell, yes yes, smells special, smells important, snuff snuff, oh she can pet him if she insists. And a little scratch wouldn't go amiss with those nails. He snuffs, turning his head and wagging his tail to encourage a scratch behind the ears.

Lyra nods, still watching Thetis with wide, curious eyes. "I know your name. Also, you're very pretty."

She cocks her head, watching her grandmother's face. "Is it okay if I call you Grandma? Or Nona? Or something else like that? Mistress says I shouldn't assume gods like names like that, even if we're family."

Medea had warned her that gods don't always see mortal family the same way mortals see it. They don't always care for the intimacy it suggests, when mortals are like mayflies to them.

Thetis takes the hint and indulges Leon’s request; she scratches her nails in the soft, damp fur behind his ears. It’s rare that she spends time with such eager, youthful creatures. She has to admit it’s refreshing.

She remembers the way Achilles would call her mama in private, but switch to a stiff, formal mother in mixed company. He never asked permission to call her mama. It was his child’s instinct. Thetis was enamored enough that she didn’t care.

Thetis meets Lyra’s gaze until it suddenly hurts to imagine the pain, the suffering, the death that await this happy, innocent child. Can she stand to watch it happen again?

Her eyes flick back to Leon. “Call me what you will.”

Oh yesssssss yes yes yes water lady is so much better than bird yes get that scratch right behind the ear yesss Leon's tail wags like a little fan, one back leg twitching as his eyes half-close, in quiet bliss from those ear scratches. Leon is a happy puppy right about now, so happy he doesn't even mind about the gull anymore.

"Okay, Nona," Lyra says without missing a beat. Yes, Nona feels right. "Thank you for meeting me. I know it's probably very sad, since I'll die one day and you can't visit the Underworld like Papa can. But I'm happy you met me anyway."

As any conversation about death with Lyra, she's casual. Still clear-eyed, still curious, already accepting the reality of their situation.

"Do you want to hear how I tricked Daddy into letting me into the Underworld?" She assumes Nona is still sad that she can't see Daddy. Maybe stories will make her a little happier.

“It brings me no sadness,” Thetis lies, both for herself and Lyra. “Lord Hermes may well deliver you to the Underworld, and Achilles will be there to receive you. A mortal could hardly ask for a better afterlife.”

And Lyra is radiant with enough divine blood to grant her a long, healthy life, assuming the Fates have no other plans.

It doesn’t bode well that Lyra’s curiosity has already taken her to the Underworld, though. Defying Lord Hades’ well-guarded borders isn’t a good start. “Tell me the story,” Thetis says, lifting Leon from Lyra’s arms and gently dipping his paws back in the water. The pup still has a long way to go with his swimming lessons.

Leon whines, paddling his paws in the salty lava. He does not like salty lava, no no, it keeps moving, not like his water bowl, it is very big and very strong and he does not like big strong things he cannot attack enveloping his mistress.

"The roads told me where the mouth of the Underworld was. I told my foster brother, and he said I was wrong, and we got into a fight, and I hit him in the nose and I went to prove that it was the Underworld. I decided I could steal something and show it off to him."

She misses him now, even remembering all his flaws. She misses the company of siblings, misses the easy familiarity of peers.

"I thought that Cerberus was going to guard the Underworld, but he wasn't, it was Daddy, except I didn't know he was my daddy yet. He tried to stop me, and I challenged him to a game. I said I'd try to guess his name, and if I was right, he'd let me go inside, and if I was wrong, I'd go away and not come back."

She snickers softly to herself, sitting down in the sand as the water laps against her hips. She pats the sand next to her in invitation. She'd like to sit with her Nona. "You'd think for spending so much time with Papa, Daddy would know what a set up for a trick looks like, but no. He fell for it."

She's still proud she pulled that one off. Daddy isn't a very tricky person.

Thetis notes Leon’s continued distress and smooths the water with an effortless sweep of her hand. In the midst of the waves, Leon has his own unnaturally calm pool to practice. Or at least stop panicking. It’s barely a foot deep!

She leaves the pup to conquer his fear and takes a seat next to her granddaughter. Her himation drags back and forth with the waves, lacy with the bubbling white foam. This close, one can almost see the ichor running in meandering gold lines under her pale skin.

“Your father is a very trusting man. He thinks everyone is as honest as he is.” Unfortunately. And it seems Lyra’s inherited some of that tendency. “Did you find adequate proof for your brother?”

Leon is dying, oh no, oh cruel world, he's being consumed by the terrible salty lava, how could it end like this, remember him fondly mistress--

It takes him a second to realize that his paws can touch the ground, and his head is still above the water. The very, very still water.

Leon contemplates this. As a very intelligent breed, perhaps he has it in him to be a little embarrassed. Then he curiously paws at the surface of the water, looking at how it ripples, how the larger body doesn't disturb his little pool.

Lyra, on the other hand, wastes no time. She leans against Nona, letting the side of her head rest against her cool skin, her eyes tracing the soft gold lines. Lyra has no trouble assuming affection from gods.

"Yep. I stole a champion belt from Theseus. I was glad, because Theseus is a jerk. The stories make him sound like one, and Daddy and Pat said they're true and he is a jerk. My foster parents were scared because they thought I'd bring the wrath of the gods on us all, but really, I think gods probably have more to worry about than dead jerk heroes being upset over belts."

The goddess waves her long, graceful fingers and a few tiny fish break from their school to zip around Leon’s legs and leap from the water, teasing.

She stiffens, though, when she feels Lyra’s weight. Thetis remembers the same shock holding her squalling son, new and warm and fragile, the stuff of the world, made to live and grow, die and rot. If only she could burn all of that mortal weakness away and leave him fully divine …

Her short, breathy laugh sounds like water rushing into tide pools. “Indeed they do. Gods have little interest in heroes once they’ve died.”

With the unfortunate exception of Achilles, who keeps getting roped into divine business. A part of her wishes Hermes had let him be. Can’t her son finally enjoy some peace?

Thetis’ eyes land on Lyra’s shell bracelet and her head tilts. She taps the shells with her nails. “This is a more interesting treasure. Tell me about this, child.”

Leon snaps playfully at the fish that jump before him, his tail beginning to wag, spraying seawater into the air. Oh, this is a fun game. Look at the little creatures! Little fun creatures! Leon starts to jump in circles to catch them, every big splash he makes causing him to wag harder.

Lyra looks down at her bracelet. Her face softens, fingering one of the shells. "Pyrrhus made this for me. He didn't know it was for me. But he did anyway. He made one for Daddy, too."

She doesn't think she needs to explain Pyrrhus' name to Nona, though everyone else knows him by Neoptolemus. She holds her hand out for Nona to examine the bracelet closer. "Someone taught him how to make them in the war. And now he likes to make them for fun. He made one for Daddy, too."

Lyra is correct to assume the name needs no explanation. Thetis’ lips press flat and white at Pyrrhus’ mention and her hand pulls back from the bracelet as if burned.

She only knows his life from brief, painful glimpses. His mother’s mortal blood tainted him, she decided. It made him cold and brutal. A perfect tool for idiot kings and their petty wars. If the Fates were kind, they would cut his life short.

The water ripples around her. The fish twitch at restless angles. This child needs to stay far from her brother. Does Achilles know that? He should know that. Surely Hermes does.

“Pyrrhus … You’ve met him?”

Leon, oblivious, keeps trying to chase the little fish, forgetting that he's supposed to be scared of the water. No, no, the urge to chase is too great, he can brave the salt to splash and snap for the little fishies.

Lyra, on the other hand, lets her smile fall. She fingers the shells around her wrist.

"You don't like him. That makes me very sad for him. Daddy and Grandpa didn't like him either, even though Daddy never met him."

Lyra knows she can't grasp everything the grownups can. She doesn't understand why certain things hurt grownups so bad, or why things aren't as simple for them as for kids. But even so, her heart aches for her brother.

"I wanted to meet him really badly. So Daddy met him first. And Daddy said that he was hurt, and Prometheus said he was hit really hard up here--" Lyra taps the side of her head, "--so I couldn't meet him before the grownups said I could. But I was very sad for him. It seems awful for so much of your family to give up on you because of what other people say."

She avoids answering her Nona's question directly. It's sad and painful to talk about. He was so nice, but she knows most people will only remember the part where he was scary.

Thetis idly stirs her hand in the water and Leon’s pool begins to deepen. He’ll have to figure out how to move his little legs if he wants to keep up.

She doesn’t try to deny Lyra’s assertion. She doesn’t like to lie, unless it’s to people she doesn’t like. Gods and men who want to hear certain words, whether they’re true or not.

“No, I don’t like him,” she says evenly, matter-of-factly. “It’s true. Mortals like nothing better than fighting and killing one another. Divine blood makes them all the better at it. The gods delight in their struggle.”

She stirs a nail in the water. Foam and sand twists and shifts into a memory of Troy: a crush of armored bodies, frothing horses, flashing weapons, thick plumes of smoke from funeral pyres. “War makes mortal men into rabid beasts. Your father and your brother both succumbed to its poison.”

Leon doesn't quite notice at first that he's paddling. He's too busy snapping at fish. But eventually he notices that his paws aren't touching the ground anymore, and he has a little whiny panic before he remembers he can still breathe and he's floating. Huh. This is a strange turn of events for little Leon. He experimentally paddles his paws, awkwardly trying to move through the pool.

Lyra frowns as she watches the vision her grandmother shows. She knows that it's real, and she knows it's bad, but it doesn't feel real. It's just so far away from her life.

"So you don't like Daddy either? Because he went to war?" Lyra looks up at Nona's face, eyes wide and curious. "Pat said you love Daddy a lot."

And the two notions don't match in her head. It seems strange to love someone you don't like, or to like one person who goes to war but dislike the other.

Thetis doesn’t offer the pup more assistance—he needs to learn how to keep himself afloat—but she keeps the waves at bay a while longer. The fish make swimming look smooth and effortless compared to Leon’s clumsy dog paddle.

“I didn’t like what the war made him. I didn’t like that he valued fighting another man’s war over a long, happy life.” It’s selfish, she knows, but she feels entitled to that selfishness after a life subject to the whims of others. “If he’d come home, your brother might have known a different life.”

She still likes to blame Patroclus for this decision. Maybe if the fool hadn’t gone and died, Achilles would have had a chance. As fast and strong as Achilles was, Patroclus was always his weakness.

Now that Leon is (mostly) confident he'll be able to keep breathing, he's able to focus more on his paddling. Every movement is awkward, a beast of land attempting to adapt to water, but he grows more confident, more willing to try to chase the fish that dart around him.

"He doesn't like what the war made him, either," Lyra says. "Daddy, I mean. I don't know how Pyrrhus feels about it. But Daddy really wishes he hadn't gone to war, and I know he's sad that Pyrrhus thought that Daddy would want him to go too."

Lyra fingers Nona's himation. It feels like no human material she's ever handled before.

"I did meet Pyrrhus. I didn't tell him who I was. I just wanted to get to know him. He was nice. He didn't mind that I asked lots of questions, or that I wanted to see his things." Lyra gestures to her palm, making a little crescent shape. "He has a scar here. I asked him about it. He told me a very funny story about losing a battle with a mighty stylus when he was half asleep writing one day. He said it very seriously, even though I know he was being silly. It made me laugh."

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