Chapter Text
Sett knew what lay for him at the peak of this mountain. He had heard wild tales that traveled to Ionia from many places abroad. Tales of legendary people becoming even more legendary beings. Those who were lost went there and somehow they found purpose.
He had a purpose. But it wasn’t quite enough. He had everything he had wanted as a young boy. The thrill of the fight, the cheers of the crowd, and of course, the clink of the gold. But just like when he was young, he sat up long nights, staring up at the top of his tent, or the watching the glittering stars. It was clear to him. What he had still wasn’t enough.
He used his big pile of gold, bought himself passage on a small boat to this mountain, or as close to it as a boat could take him. Bought himself supplies, packing up his tent in with rations and gear. Left a note for his mom, along with a heavy coin purse. Told her he was going to be back, better than ever.
When he reached the base of the mountain, he was excited. He felt just like when he was about to go into a filled stadium. The first few days were fun. He spent his time leaping over rocks and easily scaling small walls. He munched on his rations, taking his time to enjoy the new scenery, much different than his Ionian home. He lasted a week before it became hard.
The air got thinner and thinner the higher he climbed. Ionia was relatively flat, unless you decide to scale the mountains to get to some beloved shrines, which he never had. He didn’t recognize the plants around him. He lost a day to sickness after eating berries that apparently were not edible.
The climb itself was getting more difficult. Before he was leaping over terrain. Now he had to heave his heavy body over large rock faces, hopping a slip of his hand wouldn’t tumble him down to his grisly demise. Snow began to fall every night, coating every surface of his camp site. The snow settled on his fur, seeping through it and cooling his skin, causing him to shiver and chatter.
And this mountain was strange. Sometimes in the dead of night, he could hear laughing in the distance. They sounded so alike to those of his Ionian schoolmates, making fun of him. Shoving him to the ground. Rubbing dirt in his fur until it stuck in thick clumps that his mom had to slowly comb out. Throwing rocks and him, chanting rhymes about how he was furry, how he was gross, how he had no dad. When he climbed he thought he saw in the distance figures aiming rocks at him, trying to cause him to plummet to the depths below.
He wasn’t able to sleep much. Between the voices, the laughing, and his own mind replaying painful memories, sleep was few and far between. He had so easily lost track of the days, the sun obscured by the now ever stretching mountain he had choose to climb. He didn’t know when it was day or night. All he could see was the higher he had to climb. A seemingly endless amount each day, or night.
Now he was shuffling along, wishing he was smart enough to bring extra clothes, his confidence in his own fur betraying him. His rations had long since run out, and he didn’t want to risk eating the strange plants around him.
“Mama,” He mumbled, remembering that he had just left her without a word, “I’m an idiot.” He fell to his knees. He didn’t cry anymore, even with no one around to see. No one needed a half-blood’s tears. “Mama, I’m sorry,” He whispered, crumpling further into the cold snow.
“He is not Solari,” A strange voice called, sounding soft as a whisper, but audible enough for him to hear even though he didn’t know who said it. “He is not even from here. Another fool trying to ascend the mountain.”
Sett’s head was pressed into the snow, he had no will to lift it. “Mama,” He mumbled, mouth half pressed into the snow, “I hope you forgive me.”
Something hard pressed into the side of his head. With a flick, it rolled him over so he wasn’t pressed into the snow, face first. He saw a man above him, pale as moonlight. He had dark hair hanging down into his face, partially covering his dark eyes. A crescent moon was painted on his forehead. He held a strange weapon in both hands, and had apparently used it to flip Sett over.
“He is not dead yet,” The voice said. The man hadn’t opened his mouth, but the voice almost seemed to come from around him.
Without a word the man slipped his arms under Sett’s. He lifted him up, grunting slightly with effort. Sett tried his best to put weight on his feet to help the man, but he was surprisingly strong despite his slim stature.
“Aphelios…?” The voice asked, “What are you doing?”
Sett turned his head to look at, what he figured, was Aphelios. His eyebrows were scrunched with effort as they begun their slow hobble away. The voice didn’t speak again. It was just Sett and this man, shuffling through the cold together. Until they reached a tent.
Sett was practically dragged into the tent by Aphelios. His feet were barely keeping up. Inside the tent, a fire already roared, as if Aphelios had wanted to just leave for a moment only to stumble across Sett. Aphelios guided him to the fire, placing him down, in his opinion, way too far. He then turned from Sett, walking over to chest, opening it and rummaging around.
Sett slid himself slowly towards the fire, hands trembling as they were kept out towards the flame.
“Don’t do that,” The strange voice reprimanded. Aphelios whipped around the see where Sett had slid himself.
“What?” He snapped, “I’m cold.”
Aphelios walked over to him and used his foot to slid Sett backwards again.
“Hey!”
“Fool,” The voice snapped, “You will go into shock, little at a time.”
Sett let out a shivering breath, but stayed put, wrapping his arms around himself.
“How do you do that?” Sett asked. He waited a bit for a response but the voice said nothing so he continued, “Talk without movin’ your mouth?” Sett though he heard Aphelios laugh, though it could’ve just been a quick exhale. Sett watched as he walked over and draped a thick fur blanket over him. Sett gratefully wrapped it around himself, his teeth finally stopping their quiet chatter.
“How long are you going to waste on this man?” The voice asked.
“I’m right here man, and it’s kinda weird to talk to yourself like that.”
“You have duties to fulfill and you know it.”
“Hello? Still here by the way.”
“Fool,” The voice scoffed again, the word seemingly their favorite, “It isn’t him speaking. You really think my voice would come out of that body?”
Aphelios settled down close to the fire. He gave Sett a look. A slight tilt of his head that read almost like a tease. Like a, yeah did you?
“So are you like invisible, or really really really tiny?” Sett asked, tilting his head, trying to see anything on the man’s body.
“Throw him out,” The voice grunted, “I’m tired of him.” Aphelios smiled and shook his head. He stood back up and grabbed a wooden thing leaning on the wall. He stretched it out and set it up over the fire. He then grabbed a pan, with high sides, and a hook on top and hooked it so it dangled above the fire. He opened a bag he had thrown down on the floor of the tent when they had hobbled in. He seemed to rummage around before pulling out some, what Sett guessed, were vegetables.
Sett watched as Aphelios sat down by the fire, grabbed a knife, and peeled the vegetables. He continued to watch as he chopped them and threw them into the pan along with a small chunk that melted into fragrant smelling oil. He pulled some fish out of the bag and Sett watched him methodically scale and filet the fish. He cut it into cubes and threw it into the pan as well. He poured some kind of broth in along with some seasonings, that Sett wouldn’t recognize, as he was a horrible chef. He placed a lid on it, and plopped back down.
Sett found himself entranced by the way he moved. Every move was careful, fluent, and almost beautiful. As if Sett wasn’t watching someone cook, but watching a stage play full of elaborate symbolic movements that would discussed for hours afterward.
“So you’re Aphelios?” He asked, breaking himself away from staring at the man. He nodded. “I’m Sett.” He nodded again. “Can you talk?” He shook his head. “But you have some little tiny person who talks for you?” Aphelios laughed slightly. Sett found himself smiling slightly, pleased to have pulled a laugh out of the stoic man. He found himself staring again. Looking at Aphelios’s dark purple eyes. His pale skin. His hands that wrapped around themselves, warming themselves with the fire.
“I should get going,” Sett blurted, “Thank you for the warmth.” He stood, throwing the blanket off of himself. Aphelios stood as well, eyebrows furrowed in concern.
“You will perish,” The voice noted.
“Nahh,” Sett dismissed, turning to leave. A hand wrapped around his own.
“You will,” The voice repeated. Sett looked down at Aphelios. The hand moved to his wrist, wrapping tightly around it. Aphelios was pulling slightly, trying to compel him to not leave.
“M-maybe I can stay a little longer, you did go through all the trouble to pull me out of the snow,” Sett said, rubbing the back of his neck. Aphelios slowly let go of his wrist, allowing Sett the freedom to move again. He sat back down, wrapping the blanket back around himself. “Just a little longer.”