Eidos • Zarry AU

α

Nothing shall part us in our love till Thanatos (Death) at his appointed hour removed us from the light of day.

Apollonius Rhodius

ΔΔΔ

Harry never feared the Gods. His mother would always scold him and remind him that he needs to respect the Gods if he doesn't want to get in trouble with them. She would participate in the rituals for them, bring sacrifices ranging from flowers to live lambs but Harry never saw the point. There were legends, myths and stories about meeting Gods and summoning them. But that's all they were - stories. Harry never believed in Zeus' children, the demi-gods running around Earth. He also didn't think the Gods' anger and rage that were supposed to cause havoc all over the world were something more than a fairytale preached by priests to keep the people in check. Humanity needs some faith. Harry personally doesn't.

It's an ordinary night when Harry meets him. He's sitting on the beach near his mother's house, like he often does, watching the moon reflect its beautiful surface on the sea's wavy mirror. The peace this brings him is like his willpower to exist in the rushed chaos of Greece. All the arguing in the agora, the trials and murders. Philosophers preaching their ideologies, a new man coming every week with words about the ideal state and marriage, the meaning of life and whatnot. His mother, pestering him about finding a wife already. Harry's head is buzzing with so many unnecessary words. So many sentences thrown around without any need for them. He wishes people would just think before they come into the agora and yell at the top of their lungs.

The man seemingly comes out of nowhere. His footsteps make almost no noise, despite walking on a pebbly beach. He sits down next to Harry as if they were friends and not meeting for the very first time.

"Beautiful night, isn't it?" the stranger says.

Harry doesn't reply. He came to the beach for silence, not a pointless conversation with an albeit handsome stranger, his beauty doesn't make Harry know him any more than he does.

"You're not very keen on conversations?" the stranger continues to prod, clearly not discouraged by Harry's silence.

To Harry, the intruder's words are but a whistle of the wind.

"That's a pity. But I don't really mind silence when I'm in presence of such a beauty as yourself."

Harry whips his head to the side and looks at the stranger with wide eyes. "Are you coquetting?"

"You have a lovely voice, too," the stranger says with a pensive smile, just this soft quirk of the corners of his lips. Harry now notices his eyes, how the amber of them almost shines brighter than the moon. He's never seen something quite like it before.

"Who are you?" Harry wonders with a small shake of his head. He can't take his eyes off the stranger, the beauty of his strong features that are somehow soft even with their clandestinely hard edges is bewitching.

"I'm one of those you don't believe in," the stranger answers nonchalantly.

His heart misses an uncomfortable beat. Harry wants to laugh. That is if he had any strength left in him to entertain these behaviours.

"You're funny. You should really play in the next comedy at the theatre. Or write a play yourself. Did my sister send you?" Harry raises his eyebrows at the stranger, waiting for an answer. As it seems, no matter how old he will be, his sister will find a way to try and trick him like they were still little children running barefoot around the town and wreaking havoc.

"Oh, Gemma? No, I've never spoken to her," the stranger replies with a straight face. The played honestly is truly admirable.

Harry sighs. "You know her name. Stop playing around, just go home and then tell her I was terrified of you or whatever you wish to say. I have no interest in participating in these silly games."