A Daughter's Love

Chapter Twenty-Two.

I followed the heat to a grand room that had the earth stood in the center of it, crafted from gold and bronze while millions of small, flickering orange flames lit its numerous continents. I studied the piece, eyes roaming along its rings, its stand that kept it rooted in place as ivory curtains danced in the breeze that howled through the columns of the far wall, overlooking the city. Lenten rose petals decorated the stone flooring, flooring that I could feel beneath the soles of my bare feet, having abandoned my boots to feel Vulcan’s warmth that radiated throughout the Coliseum more intimately. Fountains lined the opposite wall as the columns along with murals and couches, torches and ancient vases. I stepped around the large globe, my fingertips tracing its surface and studying the various names that were engraved into the gold, names of places and vast cities. The marking on my neck throbbed, bringing me to a sudden halt, eyes examining the Southern tip of Africa when the strong smell of ash and smoke filled my senses, accompanied by the heat wave that I felt caressing my back. He was there, watching me, silently gazing upon me from afar “It’s beautiful” I informed him, without bothering to turn around or glance in his direction. I knew exactly where he was. My feet carried me around the globe again, eyes tracing the map of roads, rivers, mountain tops and forests. I could hardly believe that our world was so endless, so enchanting and brilliant in all its mystery and wonder. When Vulcan didn’t respond, I stopped, allowing for my hand to drop away from the globe as my eyes found him, positioned across from me, poised on a set of steps that led into the room “You are to start a war?” I questioned, finding myself contemplating what impact a mortal war would have on such a breath-taking planet, on the fields and forests. He descended the steps, his body glistening in a layer of sweat that he couldn’t control, chest bare, exposing his scars. His crimson eyes were like the blazing fires of hell, so threatening yet so sinisterly tempting “It is part of our agreement” he confirmed, nodding his head as he too gazed upon the globe but it wasn’t the earth that peaked my interests anymore, it was him. His brown hair was braided near the scalp and tied at the nape of his neck, the rest gathered in a large clump that resembled a knot. The sides of his head had once been shaven but new hairs began to sprout, shorter than the rest though tribal symbols had been carved into them, decorating his skull “How?” I found myself wondering out loud, eyes trailing from his head to his face where a shadow had started to form above his lips and along his jaw, eyebrows thick and bushy. Vulcan tore his gaze away from the globe to look down at me from his towering height “War is second nature to man-.” he began to explain, the light of day dancing across his muscles and illuminating his eyes. It was like staring into the depths of a volcano as I waited for him to continue “It’s what binds us to them-.” I knew that he was referring to both him and I when he used the word ‘us’ because of our love for battle, our need to fight. The wind swept along my bare legs, the dress having been torn to above my knees and entangling between my thighs “Therefor it doesn’t take much to spark war between nations-.” I noticed the way he glanced down at my body before he met my eyes again, inspecting each one individually to take in their different colours, each vibrant and brilliant but unique “One woman is enough to set an empire on fire” his hand raised to brush my hair out of my face, his touch causing the air to catch in the back of my throat and my muscles to stiffen. Ryker had touched me many times before, in some places where a man had yet to touch me other than him but not even he could cause my flesh to burn like those gentle fingertips managed to do “What is he to you?” as if reading my mind, he questioned me about Ryker, allowing for his hand to drop away from me. I instantly felt a need to reach out and prevent him from doing so but I fought against it and turned to face the globe, pretending to busy myself with the landscapes, cities, towers and small, beating flames that no doubt represented mortals “He is a friend” I admitted, brushing it off but Vulcan noticed the change in my demeanour even before I had acknowledged it myself. His eyes narrowed onto me and he hummed lowly, a sound that I felt vibrate through me “Do you make it common practice to bathe all of your friends?” I froze at his blunt and fierce tone, remembering what he was. He was a god, a warrior, a man who was strong enough to flatten continents, a man who took what he wanted without bothering to ask, but I was a lioness, a beast who was equally as dominant and capable as he was and I decided to remind him of that “Only when they bathe me” I taunted, smirking when I locked gazes with him. There was a flicker of annoyance, a blaze of jealousy and anger that rose in the back of those crimson orbs at the thought of Ryker’s hands caressing my body. I had struck a nerve, had poked the dragon and was about to taste its scorching fire “If he ever touches you again, I’ll-.” he began to threaten but my blood ran cold and he could feel it, pushing back against his heat with equal force, an eruption of lava facing a freezing blizzard. I might never return Ryker’s feelings but I would protect him until I breathed my last breath “You’ll what?” I demanded, my tone a threatening challenge that dared him to say what it was he was about to say before I interrupted him. Something changed inside of him and I readied myself to fight, parting my legs and slightly bending my knees but he simply grinned, stalking closer and forcing me back a few steps “You deserve to be worshipped” he stated, changing the subject. I lowered my guard but my muscles tensed in response to his words. There he was, one of the seven gods to exist in our world, insisting that I was the one who deserved to be worshipped, a simple Heart of the sea “I’m no goddess” I argued with him, confusion filling my mismatched eyes when I looked to him, standing almost directly in front of me. I could smell the leather of his kilt, taste the salt of his sweat and hear his blood as it pumped through his veins “The gods aren’t the only beings who are worshipped in this world-.” there was something so alluring about how he looked at me, able to see straight into the darkest corners of my mind where not even I dared to venture. He saw the most vulnerable parts of me and experienced the most violent portions first hand “Intelligence, power, beauty-.” he paused to run his gaze over my body once more as if to emphasise the last word, though he believed that I was all three. My head tilted slightly to one side, listening intently to what he had to say, his words like silk that grazed my naked flesh “These are all things that are worshipped just as the legacies of ancient war heroes are celebrated long after they, themselves have perished” I felt my breath catch, my eyes widening when I contemplated what he was saying. It was the truth, kings and queens were worshipped for their wealth and appearance, just as Perseus was worshipped for having defeated Cetus all those centuries ago “And you, beloved-.” a chill shot its way down my spine, lips parting as he stepped even closer so that there was almost no distance left between our bodies. We were two separate poles of a magnet, him being South and I North but it was the fact that we were polar opposites that gravitated us toward each other “Are all of those things” his hand moved to trace lines along my jaw and cheekbones. My eyes began to droop on their own accord, my body calmed by his touch, by the comfort of his heat, until- “So having that witty tongue of yours praying to me for strength, so desperate and hungry-.” my eyes shot open wide when his thumb slipped into my mouth, forcing my lips apart to press into the surface of my tongue. I was trapped in place, unsure what to do or how to react “Only fuels my ego” he was taunting me, was teasing me so I snapped out of it and shoved him in the chest. He staggered back, pulling his hand away from me and chuckling at the sight of my heated cheeks, a result of his touch mixed with my embarrassment. There was a moment when I found myself gazing at him in complete and utter awe when the wind whipped through the room, sending rose petals up to dance around his form, eyes smiling when they looked at me, his laugh like the clashes of swords on a battlefield. He moved past me but paused to lean down so that his lips barely grazed my ear “You better get back to your ‘friend’ before he starts to get too worried” he advised then was gone as if he had burnt out in a spark of fire. I stared at the place where he had stood then realized what he’d said, turning abruptly to head back in the direction I had come from until the hallways gave way to the foyer where Ryker was still unconscious on the couch, Joe curled up near his neck. I slowed my pace, calming my breath at the sight of him. He looked so peaceful, so innocent while he slept that I couldn’t stop myself from closing the distance between us, hand reaching out to brush the hair back and out of his face, palm pressing against his forehead but luckily there was no sign of a fever. Malik’s words from before echoed through my mind ‘He’s in love with you, Lia’ I had wanted to retort, to say that I knew how he felt about me but ignoring his feelings for me was much easier than breaking Ryker’s heart. My fingertips slid from his forehead, hand clenching at my side to stop it from trembling. I liked to believe that I was a warrior, the worship worthy woman that Vulcan described me as being but I was a coward, someone who tried to cover up the burning truth with comforting lies. I just couldn’t stand the thought of losing Ryker. My legs felt weak and I took a few steps back until the backs of my knees collided with the table that stood opposite the couch, hands reaching to ease me onto the marble surface with my eyes never once straying from Ryker’s features. I could hear my mother’s gentle voice as she ran her fingers through my hair and sat beside me on her bed in the attic at Vannes, smiling warmly at me ‘I know it’s hard-.’ I could almost feel her there beside me in that large, stone room with gaping walkways and arches that overlooked both the arena and the city of Rome ‘And you’re afraid-.’ closing my eyes felt like a dangerous thing to do, the image of her so real that it fooled me into believing that I was that ten-year old girl again who had lied to Ryker about breaking his toy Knight and was consumed with guilt about is ‘But you have to tell him the truth, sweetheart’ I hugged my stuffed bear to my chest and curled in beside my mother, her smell and touch so familiar, so relaxing as she willed away my tears and brushed stray curls of my dirty blond hair back to see my stained face more clearly in the dark of night “But he’ll hate me” I whispered out loud to the hallow room just as the little girl from my memory said the same exact thing, stuttering past her sniffling and hand as she hurriedly rubbed at her puffy, red eyes. My father was fast asleep beside us, or at least I had believed that he was but in reality he was wide awake, listening to his wife as she comforted their daughter in the middle of the night after she had been startled awake due to nightmares about the lie that she told ‘Oh, honey-.’ she began with a faint smile on her face, the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes tightening as a result. She looked tired, like she had been working for days on end but she was beautiful none the less even with messy hair and dressed in an old shirt that had holes in it ‘If he really cares about you then he won’t hate you-.’ I blinked, eyes finding the tapestry that hung from the far wall that depicted the image of Constantine on his horse, surrounded by men and Cherubs ‘Especially not because of a toy’ but it wasn’t about a toy this time and things weren’t as they once were. The toy was Ryker’s heart and telling the truth meant losing him forever, meant ruining the bond we had built while growing up. The memory faded to the back of my mind, something so simple and insignificant to most however I managed to remember it, clinging to her words, her scent, her smile since they were all I had left of her and my father, at least until I could see them again. It was what I was fighting for, what drove me to beat Vulcan in combat. My life barely revolved around anything other than bloodshed, combat and their preserved memories.

Malik.

I struck the wall for a second time, feeling the stone start to cave at the sheer force of the blow. Despite being siblings, I had never known Malia as much as I liked to. We grew up under the same roof, raised by the same parents but led very different lives. I preferred to stay indoors, reading about the wonders of the world and studying old maps, even going as far to write my own stories about far off places, fantasy world that were located past the stars. Astrology, alchemy and biology always seemed to fascinate me, intrigued me to no end as I spent night after night, tucked away beneath the covers of my bed, reading, just reading. It was where I felt safe, where I felt normal whereas the outside world frightened me to no end. I felt like an outcast, a freak of nature in a world so used to the same things that they feared the unknown. I was the nerd, but on top of it all, I was the little boy who had no idea who he truly was, the boy who liked other boys but never wanted to say the words out loud or admit them. I had always loved Ryker but it wasn’t until Malia and I had just turned fifteen that I really understood the extent of that love. For three years I had watched as Ryker continued to fall for my sister, noticed the way he looked at her when she wasn’t paying attention or how he sometimes muttered her name in his sleep. The third blow was harder this time, leaving small cracks in the concrete and causing a dull ache to shoot through my knuckles. Malia and I were nothing alike, whereas I was the quiet outcast, she was the outgoing, ambitious, fearless leader who ran around outside, building forts and playing pretend sword fighting with Ryker. They were inseparable, always getting up to no good and exploring the forest on the outskirts of Vannes. She knew exactly who she was and she wasn’t afraid of it or of how others would react. I often envied that about her. It was that fire, that confidence that made Ryker fall for her, despite her being oblivious to what was happening. I flexed my knuckles and felt the dull again, turning my hand over a few times. She was self-assured and powerful, or at least, that was what I believed until I saw her face when the word ‘Love’ slipped past my lips. It was as though the warrior that had stood against armies had suddenly become frozen with fear at the mere sight of a butterfly. My father’s words during her fight with Vulcan registered in the back of my mind. ‘Out of all the beings in this world. Why did it have to be him?’ followed by what had triggered him to say such a thing, Malia’s words, spoken in perfect French ‘You are worthy’ that had been directed at the fire god. What did being worthy mean to her? Why was she so afraid, so uncertain of love? She had yet to be with someone, hadn’t ever shown an interest in kissing, hand holding or s*x as many women her age did, but why was that? She was like a picture book without any words to read, only symbols to decode. I raised my clench fist, my mind travelling back to Ryker and how heartbroken he would be if she was to reject him after everything he’d done for her, keeping her secrets and bathing her every time she would return home, stained in blood. I felt my teeth clench and my arm tremble at the thought of not being able to comfort him if that happened. He could never see me as anything more than a brother or friend, never “What are you doing?” I froze when my sister’s voice reached my ears. There was a scolding tone to her words when I lowered my fist and turned to face her. She was stood in the archway to the ballroom I was in, her arms crossed over her chest and back leaning against the stone as she glanced sideways at me “Training” I stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. I didn’t know the first thing about fighting or about throwing a punch but I could recite The Tempest by William Shakespeare from start to finish or play the Prelude by Bach in C Major on the piano thirty-one times without a single break. She most likely didn’t even know who William Shakespeare was but she could drive a dagger into the heart of a man without flinching or thinking twice about it “By hitting a wall?” she questioned, eyebrow raised, turning so that her body was facing me with her arms crossed, hands holding onto her limbs as if to prevent them from slapping me clean across the head as they undoubtedly itched to do, after having seen me abuse my fists as I had. She was silently judging me behind the irises of her mismatched eyes and instead of responding with a sarcastic retort, she decided to state plainly “You’ll break your hand” I looked to my already bruising knuckles, flexing again only to feel the same dull ache as before shoot up my wrist and arm. She was right. At the rate I was going at it, the bones in my hand would shatter long before the concrete would. I let out a long sigh through my nostrils and ran an aching hand through my silver hair, tugging at the roots “I don’t know the first thing about fighting” I admitted out loud and for a moment the irritation in her eyes was replaced by triumph at hearing me confess that she was the better fighter, as if I ever threatened her title myself. Malia always managed to remind me of our-her father. The darker toned skin, the golden eye, the sandy brown mixed in with her blond hair but it wasn’t just her outward appearance that reminded me of him, it was her personality, her way of doing things, her determined, dominant, fearless demeanour. Caleb Campbell could pack a punch if he needed to, he could handle himself in a sword fight and had killed before though I doubted that the amount of bodies he had accumulated over the years could even begin to scratch at her death toll “You nearly devoured me” Malia taunted, forcing me to go back to that moment in time. I could hardly remember anything other than waking up in the Captain’s quarters, everything after that was a blur, a series of images that flickered past my eyes as if I was seeing them scribbled across the pages of a book “Cetus nearly devoured you-.” I argued, able to feel him curl in around my mind at the very mention of his name. His voice sometimes bounced around on the inside of my skull like a whisper in my ear or a thought that didn’t belong to me in a voice that wasn’t mine “I watched” there were two of us, two beings trapped in one body, sharing one brain, each of us able to take control at any given moment. If it weren’t for Cetus being Neptune’s Guardian and keeping him at bay, I most likely wouldn’t be standing there, speaking to my sister as I was “Wrap your knuckles” Malia ordered, motioning to my hand then proceeded to tear even more pieces of her already ruined dress for me to wrap my knuckles with. She approached, offering them to me and I took them, attempting to wind the material around my knuckles “When training, you have to take precaution. Your body doesn’t heal like mine does and if we need you to fight, you won’t be much help with a broken hand” she scolded, watching me as I tightly wound the fabric around my knuckles and tucked the end into the larger portion. It wasn’t exactly ideal but it was enough. Once I was done, she proceeded with her lesson by holding up her right hand, palm directed toward me “Now, strike me as hard as you can” her head motioned to her palm as her feet squared themselves beneath her and her free hand tucked itself away behind her back. She was physically preparing herself to withstand the force of my punch, but I couldn’t bring myself to hit her “Ryker” I argued, the single word enough for her to understand. I didn’t want to hurt him and striking Malia would only cause him further pain. I didn’t want to ever see him in such pain again. The image of him crippled in agony on the bed in the cells beneath the rooms we were in was enough to make my stomach churn and bile rise in the back of my throat “He’ll heal” she reminded me as though it made everything better. Yes, he will heal but it wasn’t the healing that worried me, it was causing him discomfort even if it were just for a short amount of time. My sister noticed the worry written across my features and continued “At this point, his body is stronger than yours and is learning to heal faster each time a bone breaks or a wound is inflicted-.” the way she spoke was like a teacher speaking to her student, stern but relaxed, ready to coaxed me into doing exactly what she wanted me to do “It will hurt but he will heal and in turn he will grow used to dealing with the pain that is to come” she was referring to her upcoming battles. There was no other way to describe them other than by using the words intense, violent, bloody or grotesque. She fought with the intent to kill, the constant drive to tear her opponent apart and a lust for bloodshed “Now, strike me” she repeated, more firmly this time, leaving no room for argument. I nodded, raised my clenched fist and struck at her palm with all the force I could muster. Malia hardly flinched and turned her hand to scowl at the palm “You managed to fracture a few of the bones but it’s hardly enough to knock out an opponent, especially someone as powerful as Vulcan” the last part was a low utterance as if she was too afraid to say the name of the god whom she had defeated in battle a day prior. I found myself staring at her neck, where the triangular marking of Vulcan’s kiss was placed and wondered what it must’ve felt like to have a man so giant, so brutish and powerful kiss your skin like that “What am I doing wrong?” I questioned after snapping myself out of my daze. I usually never thought about anyone other than Ryker in that way but as of late, all of the men we met have been rather distracting. Captain Benjamin had been one of them “The force you generate is perfect but it’s the way you project it that softens the blow” she said out loud, though it seemed like she was still mauling over the answer herself, staring at her hand and twisting it back and forth. It was likely already fully healed considering how fast she recovered from her fight “While focusing your energy on one specific point can be helpful in certain situations-.” she was rambling, talking as though she was some world renowned expert in combat when really she was self-taught. Her hand took its prior position, palm facing me in mid-air when she continued “It’s being able to allow the force to ripple throughout your targeted area that really does damage” she motioned to her hand, fingers, thumb and wrist with her free hand as she tried to explain it. I had no idea what she was talking about, until she sighed and clenched her raised fist, aiming it at the wall closest to us. The impact could be felt vibrating throughout the walls, the ceiling and floor. My bones shook from the force as I watched the wall start to crack, the web-like pattern crawling outward from where her fist stayed connected to the concrete until the entire wall was covered in cracks. Being able to watch her power jump from her arm to her fist and shoot outward in every direction was mesmerising. Her blow had done the complete opposite from mine which had only manage to cause a small crack in the concrete where my fist had struck. Was that what she had meant when she spoke of my blow being too focused in on one specific area? “Strike me again but this time, imagine that your punch is like a drop in the ocean, causing it to ripple in every direction” she beaconed. Her bloody knuckles already starting to close up after her demonstration when she raised her palm again. I stared at her darker toned flesh, her rough hands, scarred and worn from years of fighting then nodded. My eye closed, an image of a still ocean surface playing out before me, a single drop falling from the heavens and disrupting the stillness of it all. Small ripples could be seen floating away, rippled that later turned into giant waves which consumed the land and managed to sink large vessels. My fist was that drop and my power was the waves. I opened my vibrant, glowing eye and lashed out, my fist connecting with her palm but this time a snapping could be heard, one snap following the other. Malia’s jaw clenched and her eyes blinked a few times but she remained perfectly still until my own fist had been lowered and I stood upright in front of her. She breathed in heavily through her nose then let out in a long sigh “Good” she managed to get out, shaking her hand as the bones began to snap themselves back into place. Her face contorted, nose wrinkling while she experienced the pain but never once did she cry out or her eyes begin to fill with tears. It must’ve been nothing compared to what Vulcan had inflicted upon her. My eye still stung with the reminder of her tolerance, her chaos and combat capabilities “Again” she ordered once she was fully healed, holding her hand up in the exact same position. There was no emotion on her face, only the stern, serious aura of a warrior who found strength in pain. Instead of the still ocean surface, this time an image of Malia standing in a tub of water, naked, her body dripping wet as Ryker gazed upon her, scrubbing at her bloody hands like her lowly servant crept to the forefront of my mind. Jealousy, anger, envy shot through me and my next blow was significantly stronger. The force crept through her palm, shot up the length of each finger, through her arm and stopped at her shoulder. The snapping echoed throughout the ballroom until it was replaced by her pain filled snarl as she staggered back, free hand instinctively moving to grip her shoulder protectively. Her eyes began to glow vibrantly, one the spitting image of our mother while the other was that of Caleb Campbell. She looked as though she was about to lash out, to tear me apart and enjoy it but she managed to close her eyes and calm herself, breathing ragged. If she was to attack, there was no telling how Cetus would react. If he was to awaken, the entirety of Rome would be reduced to nothing but rubble littered in the corpses of the innocent. She was more powerful that Cetus, stronger than Vulcan and there was no telling what lengths she could reach if she got her hands on the sword of Leandros “Your strength lies in the intensity of what you’re fighting for” she explained, most likely thinking of her love for our mother and her need to speak with her father again. I hardly cared about my mother after she had lied to me about who I was, about who my father was but Ryker, Ryker was my strength. Malia straightened her posture, lowering her hand back to her side “Focus on keeping your knees bent and your legs parted” she reminded me, using herself as an example by taking up a fighting stands that angled her body away from me, protecting her torso with her arms raised, ready to block any of my advances. Her knees were slightly bent and legs spread apart to more firmly root her in place. I nodded and mimicked her stands, grateful for her assistance in helping me learn to more effectively use my body in a fight. To her, fighting came naturally and her body seemed to move on its own whenever she dodged one of my advances. The way she spun and twisted reminded me of a dance, a graceful and elegant dance that she performed on the tips of her toes. The way her hips cured and waist rolled reminded me of how Rebecca used to dance in the kitchen when we were younger but it wasn’t a dance and slowly she began to add her own blows into the routine. They were mere jabs but even so they still managed to knock the air out of my lungs or cause my ribs to ache. I doubled over every time she struck me then had to recover fast before she could do it again. Near the end of it, I was sweating while she hardly broke a sweat, watching me patiently as she circled me like a predator would stalk its prey. Was I her prey? There was something terrifying in that realization when I looked to her again. The lioness in her had its head down and took each step carefully I order to avoid stepping on any twigs or dried grass that might alert the buck of its presence. It was panting, fanged mouth gaping as the muscles in its shoulders rolled and shifted with each impending step. She was hungry, starving for the taste of blood, blood that would soon coat her muzzle and brand her the true Queen of the jungle but before she could pin me down, a voice stopped her dead in her tracks “That’s enough training for one day” my father appeared in the doorway, observing the situation, my bruised arms and hunched over form with my hand pressed to my ribcage where she had landed her previous blow. Neptune had an effect on us, not because he was my father but because he was the god of the sea and both Malia and I were servants of that element. She was a Heart and I a Guardian. Despite her sheer disappointment, Malia nodded her head one and turned to head in my father’s direction after her eyes lingered on me for a moment longer. Before she could flee, my father grabbed hold of her upper arm, forcing her to a stop. She met his gaze with a strong glare “Thank you” was all he said, Malia stared at him, hard then tore her arm free of his hold and disappeared down the many hallways of the Coliseum. There was so much hidden beneath those cold yet fiery eyes of her. So many questions that I needed answered. Why did she hate the idea of love? Why had she named Vulcan as being worthy? What did she feel toward Ryker? When did she start fighting or rather killing and what caused it? Neptune watched her go and once he was certain that she was out of ear shot, he spoke as if able to hear my rambling thoughts “Your sister is like a book that has no ending-.” he announced while I lowered my hand and moved to stand upright, wincing when pain shot up from my ribcage. The many bruises will fade over time but they were nothing compared to being impaled or having your bones broken time and time again “With each chapter you manage to decipher, another arises, more tantalizing than the last” my father had watched us grow up, had seen our every move and studied us hard enough to know who we were even before he had formally introduced himself to us. I half expected him to know everything there was to know about my half-sister but even he seemed perplexed by her actions, her words and thoughts. I guessed that could only mean that there was no hope of me ever knowing my sister, truly knowing her if the sea god himself couldn’t even begin to understand her.