His Last Stand ((Calix Kiril))

As Jespice Cane stared at his bruised and cut up face he never felt such an intense anger. He counted the different marks and bruises, traced the cut under his eye and on his nose. Even the slightest bit of pressure on his black eye would cause the son of Cupid to flinch. It had been a few days since Calix and Jespice had fought, the swelling in his nose was almost gone, but it was still slightly crooked. The son of Cupid pulled his shirt off painfully, looking at the bruises on his chest. Calix had given him a few broken ribs as well. Jespice’s whole body ached, almost every movement he made caused him to flinch. The bruises were very colorful, his whole body was decorated with blues, purples, yellows and sickly browns. “That bastard…” Jespice hissed, his jaw clenched as he looked at his bruise covered body. The purple camp shirt was crumpled tightly in Jespice’s hand, but when he looked back up at his face in the mirror his body relaxed slightly. “But… she’s safe I guess…” The son of Cupid grumbled leaning closer to his refelction and poking at a particularly grotesque looking bruise. “At least… safe from me.” Jespice let his shirt fall to the ground. He couldn’t wear those anymore, not after he vowed to kill Calix, the praetor of the camp.

Jespice rummaged through a pile of shirts on the floor, his fingers curling around a black sleeveless t-shirt. Wincing, the son of Cupid slipped into the loosely fitting, sleeveless shirt, then looked at himself in the mirror. Too much black… Jespice grimaced, but he didn’t make a move to change his clothes. The dark fabric reflected his mood and surprising it didn’t look too bad, his beat up body held the darker, tougher clothes pretty well. Jespice ran his fingers through his hair, even that was starting to become darker. Something bad was going to happen soon, the son of Cupid could feel it in his bones. He had been having dreams about it for awhile, none of it made sense but the images always caused him to wake up in a cold sweat. Chills ran down Jespice’s spine just thinking about it. He put both of his hands on the dresser and leaned in close to the mirrors, glaring into his grey-blue eyes, there was darkness lying behind his eyes.

A cold chill filled the room suddenly, causing Jespice’s body to stiffen. He was momentarily paralyzed by the sudden temperature change. Everything returned to normal almost as quickly as it had changed. A lump formed in the son of Cupid’s throat, he knew what the chill ment. A shaky breath passed through Jespice’s lips as he pushed himself away from the mirror. There was a small black box on his bunk, the top was closed by a large, old fashioned lock made from black metal. The air around it was freezing. The son of cupid bit his lip, the metal of his lip piercing was like ice. It was so cold that when Jespice’s brushed his fingers against the lock it felt like fire. His touch was the key, the son of Cupid could hear it click open. Shivers ran down Jespice’s spine and he was sweating. He knew what this was. He knew what it meant… He knew what he was being told to do and he had sworn to obey these orders, the tattoo on his wrist tingled as if to remind him.

The son of Cupid shifted nervously before backing away from the box. The room was still cold, the box seemed to drawing in all the heat out of the air. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat as he backed towards the door. With a glance at the dusty floor the Roman made a quiet acknowledgement that he had understood the order he had been given. Jespice slipped out of his barracks, keep his face to the ground and his hands in his pockets. It was hard to keep his composure, the son of Cupid was nervous. The rage in the back of Jespice’s mind flared again, calming his nerves. ‘Focus on your anger’ he thought as he walked, trying to stand straighter while keeping his head down. The son of Cupid turned the corner into the area’s training area. He could hear the dirt crunch under his feet, and the Roman lifted his head. “Calix.” Jespice said, all his nervousness was gone and a smirk was tugging at the corner of his mouth. He always seemed to smile at the wrong times. When the other Roman acknowledged Jespice’s exsistance the son of Cupid put his hands up in surrender and took a step backwards.

“Hey, hey, hey…” He said, with a stupid looking grin “I know you’re mad at me, you have every right to be…” Jespice’s bit his lip, trying to appear innocent. His heritage made him naturally appealing to people, if he tried hard enough he could get almost anyone to like him. Jespice hoped he’d be able to keep Calix from punching him in the face with his natural love magic that seemed to hang around him like the Discordia kids’ chaos. The son of Cupid was trying to keep his voice calm and even, he wasn’t charm speaking by any means, if Jespice had that ability he would have used it to his advantage a long time ago. “I have a proposal for you… a challenge of sorts to help us vent our excess aggression.” Jespice began to lower his hands slowly, but his body remained ready to retreat if Calix decided to attack. The son of Cupid slipped his hands into his pocket, a chill ran up of his spine. “I know it sounds a little strange...” Jespice laughed, taking a step closer, standing taller so he could look Calix in the eyes “...but hear me out. Maybe if we can ‘get along’ Luthien will be happier, eh?” The son of Cupid put quotations around “get along”, knowing that it was impossible for the two of them to have a stable friendship after what happened… and what was going to happen.

Jespice hoped the mention of Luthien’s happiness would make Calix more willing to actually listen to him. If something in Jespice’s plan went wrong he was screwed. Calix would probably put his head on a pike, he had enough offenses against the Roman camp to qualify for that type of punishment. “First I should start by apologizing to you.” The son of Cupid said, beginning to pace around the older demigod, trying to make his own body relax and hoping that he didn’t shiver. “What I did was stupid. I’m stupid. Love magic, you know? It’s like chaos, it gets to me too.” Jespice looked around the area, at the different practice weapons the two boys were surrounded by. There were so many possibilities here, he had to stay calm. “I wasn’t thinking. She’s married, she’s yours.” Jespice had his back to Calix at this point. He was scowling at the far corner of the arena, hoping that his anger wasn’t present in his words. “She’s yours.” Jespice repeated, smiling again and spinning on his heel so he could face Calix. “I’m going to go apologize to her also, I just felt that it would be better to talk to you first… so you don’t get the wrong idea of me.” he sounded sincere, the feeling behind Jespice’s words even felt real to him. If he didn’t hate Calix so much… If he didn’t love Luthien… Jespice would have meant every word that he said.

“Now to the main thing I wanted to talk to you about.” The son of Cupid said, his voice sounded more professional and matterofact. Jespice bit his lower lip then ran his tongue over it, biting his tongue gently when it reached the corner of his mouth. His heart was beating faster, warming his freezing body. The adrenaline was making Jespice’s ansy. “We never… finished our fight.” the son of Cupid said, grinning. “Would you like to? Honestly the worst thing that could happen is that you accidently beat me to death, clearly I couldn’t do any real damage.”

After the incident in the Principia, Calix figured that he needed to release his aggression on a much more regular basis if only to keep himself balanced. He never wanted Lúthien to see him the way she saw him back in their room. Like some sort of uncontrollable beast. A monster who injured her friend. And, as far as he saw after the son of Cupid threatened him and before he left the Principia with his tail between his legs, Jespice had maintained a fair amount of injuries. More than Calix himself did, but that didn’t come as a surprise to him. Calix won that day, but he did not feel an overwhelming sense of victory. It satisfied him thinking that he did enough to deter Jespice from ever imposing himself on his wife like that ever again but hurt him when he saw how much it devastated Lúthien. If there was one thing Calix feared in the entire world, it was his wife in pain. If Calix ever had one nightmare… it would be Lúthien in pain. And he helped cause that pain. The praetor knew that she didn’t like him beating himself up like back in the woods when he’d besmirched himself as much as he could for cheating on her. He deserved every foul work he spoke of himself and every foul word others spoke of him. But Calix knew better now than to blame himself in front of her. He’d simply make it right. And make her happy again. Even if that meant making amends with Jespice. If Lúthien found him worthy of her time then he must be at least bearable… somehow.

But until Calix found a proper way to present himself to the other as more of an ally than a threat (he was very cautious in calling Jespice a friend just yet… and would be for a long time), he decided to practice channeling his aggression the old fashioned way. With his sword. Calix had taken a break from his work and walked to the Arena in a simple Camp Jupiter shirt and jeans, armed. The praetor usually walked around the camp with Victrix strapped to his hip just as a reminder and a symbol. The actual chances of an attack were slim, but that didn’t mean he wanted his Legion to be unprepared. At the same time, however, he didn’t desire to bring his weapon only to leave it on the stands. Yet the symbol and the preparedness mattered a lot to him. Calix touched the pommel of his sword out of habit and made his way past the bustling crowd. Along with making things right with Jespice, Calix also wanted to find a way to properly apologize to Lúthien. A rose for every mistake. A single rose. He nodded to himself, making a mental note to write to his mother asking for the flower. Until then, he could do this. He knew Lúthien still loved him, made obvious by the way she cared for his wounds. The hand on his sword went up to touch his cut lip. It still hurt a little bit to smile. And he still had a sizeable bruise on his chest along with the healing black eye. The son of Cupid proved that the most unassuming of folk could still be skilled in battle. True, the majority of the injuries were mostly due to luck on Jespice’s part, but Calix never wanted to be caught that off guard again. Another reason for his training.

The Arena was empty, something that both relaxed and disgruntled Calix. He wondered what his Legionnaires had to do that outweighed the importance of training. But it relaxed him in that no one was there to see him train. Calix unhooked Victrix and placed the blade on the bottom step of the stands. He walked over to the practice swords and picked a gladius at random. The blade was a bit lighter than the Legacy was used to, but he didn’t bother to switch it out. What was important was what he got out of the training session. Calix took a deep breath and began with basic forms his father had shown him back when he had just learned how to pick up a wooden sword. He stepped and turned and cut through the air, keeping his breath even but his form impeccable. He liked precision in the way he moved and had been practicing that as early as anything else. Not just with a sword but when he danced with Calla as well. He remembered all the times tripping over his own feet or looking down just to make sure he didn’t step on hers. He’d gotten better at dancing as well as sword fighting, though he felt certain that his friend could still outdo him in both categories. That just gave Calix all the more reason to practice.

Thinking about Calla just reminded Calix that he hadn’t even had a decent spar in a long time. Just these lonely training sessions filled with too much thought other than the thought of training. He still wondered about work as he made the leisurely strikes and thought about Lúthien and Jespice and everything that happened that day. If he did anything even slightly similar on the battlefield… the praetor was as good as dead. So he did his best in clearing his mind of everything except battle, but, with him, that never lasted long. He kept on with the tedious forms, slowly edging into more complicated movements which did help in keeping his mind focused on the task at hand. But not enough, and Calix found himself slowly getting annoyed with the fact. He had a mental battle with himself then: to keep going or to stop. Calix settled with the latter, knowing that keeping up with something so meaningless would only put him in a bad mood, and that was the last thing that he needed at the moment. So he stopped in the middle of a movement and lowered the gladius, frowning the tiniest bit. It was then the weirdest thing happened. Jespice willingly showed his face.

The son of Cupid had walked into the Arena sometime in the middle of Calix’s mental battle. He said his name, and the praetor must have turned quickly or had a hint of irritation on his face because Jespice backed up the second he made eye contact. Calix blinked silently, many different emotions going through him. Jespice wasn’t in uniform. That made the stickler in him twitch, but he dismissed it. It’d be a bit ironic if the son of Cupid wore a Camp Jupiter shirt after he just swore a few days ago to kill him. A threat that Calix saw as completely empty. Why would he harm Calix if he knew that that would hurt Lúthien. If the two had one thing in common it was the desire to make sure the daughter of Discordia was okay. At least, that was how Calix saw it. For all he knew, Jespice might have purely been infatuated with his wife, and only cared about her ‘loving’ him back and didn’t think about her happiness. Calix knew that that was his top priority and, for the longest time, believed that her happiness didn’t involve him in the picture. That she was better off without him. It took a lot of convincing but now the thought never passed his mind. She needed him just as much as he needed her. And that’s why he had to make amends. Calix was also very confused at the smile on Jespice’s face but did not allow his own expression to show that. The smile seemed ghastly with his crooked nose and black eye, though Calix reasoned with himself that if he smiled, the cut on his lip and similar black eye would look equally as unnerving.

Calix stood with the regular respect and dignity as he would during muster or in the Principia talking to a Legionnaire who needed his help. And that’s all Jespice was. Another Legionnaire. Not the guy who hurt his wife… Not someone he was suspicious of. Calix kept these thoughts circulating with the hope that he’d actually eventually believe it. But that smile… coupled with the admitting that Calix had every right to be mad at him… only made the praetor more suspicious. But there was something else that he felt. Acceptance of Jespice. A bigger side of his mind fought against the suspicion. Jespice offered a sort of solution to their problem. He had the same idea… they needed to get along so Lúthien would be happier. And he knew Calix should have been mad at him. That was a change. That was a very positive change that relaxed Calix a little. He loosened his grip on the gladius a tiny bit and allowed the son of Cupid to approach him. The suspicious part of Calix’s mind still kept him a bit rigid…. That smile.

Calix tensed a bit more when Jespice began to circle him like a vulture. But the other, accepting part ensured that the praetor didn’t lash out but, instead, listen to him. He was stupid. Calix swallowed and turned some words over in his mind before speaking for the first time. “That’s no excuse,” he said gruffly.  Lúthien and Elijah were able to control their chaos to an enough extent that they didn’t destroy the camp, which Calix saw as the Discordia equivalent to what Jespice did. Destroy.  She’s yours. For some reason that statement didn’t sit well with Calix. And when Jespice repeated it, Calix spoke up the second time. “I do not own Lúthien. I love her. She has done me a great honor in loving me too.” How Jespice took that statement, Calix wasn’t sure. But he found the suspicious part of his mind quite pleased with it. So far it seemed that Jespice’s plan to get on Calix’s good side was working… and the solution to their problem was…. Interesting to say the least. A spar. Just what Calix was hoping for just a second prior. But… with Jespice? Calix snorted a bit. He hefted his sword. “You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.” He turned it around in his hand. “I can’t say no to a friendly rematch…”

When Jespice saw Calix’s body relax slightly he felt a huge wave of relief. There were so many things that could go wrong in this situation, the son of Cupid was rightfully nervous. It took almost everything Jespice had to keep the appearance that he calm. The whole time he paced around the older demigod his mind was racing, trying to piece together what was going through Calix’s mind. The Praetor’s face gave almost nothing away, but there were little hints in his body language. Jespice bit his lip as he walked around Calix. He could hear his heart beating loudly in his ears. Almost every word the son of Cupid had said had been carefully chosen. Calix’s response would influence everything Jespice would do. When the son of Cupid was behind the Praetor he shoved his hands into his pockets, trying to repress the shiver that ran up his spine. It felt like Jespice’s blood was made of ice.

The ground crunched under his feet as the son of Cupid started to circle again. When Calix finally responded Jespice was in front of the older boy. “No excuse… Right, right.” The Roman grumbled, pulling his hands out of his pockets and then crossing his arms. “I’m not sure you can understand how that affects me… but ok. I have no excuse.” Jespice listened to Calix talk and raised an eyebrow. “Gods, my father is probably fangirling over you right now” the son of Cupid scoffed, the idea of his father caused his anger to bubble up again. “Cupid probably likes you better…” The teenager hissed under his breath. As soon as the words slipped out Jespice bit his lip, hard. Hopefully Calix didn’t hear that. The other demigod couldn’t know about all the rage building inside Jespice, though it was clear that Calix had his guard up. “I know Luth isn’t an object to be owned by anyone” The son of Cupid said, running his hand through his hair. “Saying that was… it was… A way to tell you that I’m done trying to win her affection… you know?” At that moment Jespice actually sounded like a normal teenager, insecure and slightly embarrassed.

The son of Cupid relaxed back a little bit, looking at Calix, waiting for an answer. The older boy’s snort took Jespice off guard. “Put yourself in my shoes…” he grumbled, eyeing Calix’s sword and taking a step back. “The odds aren’t exactly in my favor here…” It didn’t take Jespice long to remember that he didn’t have his own sword. Mildly embarrassed, the son of Cupid put his hands in a ‘time-out’ gesture and jogged over to a weapon rack, nervously looking for a lightweight sword. Even with his untrained eyes, Jespice was able to find a sword that was decent enough. He shoved his right hand in his pocket and grabbed the sparring sword in his left (yes, Jespice is a lefty), then turned back to face Calix. “Nooooow I’m ready” Jespice grinned, pulling his hand from his pocket and running it over the blade, feeling the cool metal under his fingertips. Taking a deep breath, the son of Cupid got into the fighting stance he had learned during his first few days at Camp Jupiter.

“Don’t beat me up too badly, Calix.” Jespice said with a smirk, his right hand reached up and grabbed the heart locket around his neck. “Or if you do beat me up… Not the face, ok?” the son of Cupid chuckled, trying to keep the nervousness out of his laughter. The heart shaped necklace changed shape in Jespice’s hand, growing and becoming a shield. He knew it wouldn’t help him that much in this fight. He wasn’t entirely sure how to properly use his shield, but the metal felt warm and familiar in his hand. The sword, on the other hand, felt cold and awkward. Being the son of Cupid, Jespice was much better at using a bow and arrow. He was at a huge disadvantage here, but he had to try. “After this fight we’ll be ‘best buddies’ for Luthien.” The son of Cupid said with a sarcastic grin “No more fighting after this, so get all your punches in…” Jespice shifted the weapon in his hand uncomfortably, trying hard not to let Calix see his uneasiness. After a few agonizing seconds of his hand moving around the son of Cupid sighed, looking up at Calix and gesturing that he was ready to begin. “...And may the best man win…”

There. A different emotion. Calix’s scolding about Jespice’s love chaos being no excuse for his actions snuffed out the smile rather quick. Or Jespice had been frowning the entire time and the unnerving smile was just part of Calix’s imagination. The thought of the thin, sickly sweet smile set Calix on edge again. It served as a reminder of what Jespice was capable of. Winning trust only to break it. Even though the smile seemed so genuine. Calix blinked fast, unsure if the continuing muddiness of his mind was due to his own self-made confusion or the same brand of chaos that Jespice just spoke of. The praetor took a breath. Whatever caused it, he needed it away from his brain. Jespice wasn’t curiously smiling anymore. In fact, he seemed angry. More alarm bells went off in Calix’s head when Jespice began to talk about his father. Cupid. The source of the ‘love chaos’ that started this entire mess. But Calix was confused. Why would the god of love (as Jespice so heatedly put it) ‘fangirl’ over him? His success in love? It had to be something along those lines or he wouldn’t have heard a follow up hiss of something that sounded very unpleasant. Alert. Alert. That’s what Calix had to be.

Jespice’s emotions seemed to change as quickly as he did from the sickly smile to the frown. Whatever displeasure he was feeling that caused the frowning was replaced by a sheepish countenance that Calix remembered from when Jespice was first making his request. Maybe it was the mention of Lúthien. As someone taught to settle problems diplomatically as opposed to violently, Calix made a mental note of everything that made the son of Cupid tick. Like the fact that the mention of his wife brought him down two or three notches. That both encouraged Calix and made something inside of him frown. It meant that he still had feelings for Lúthien. Not that he was surprised. Calix knew that feelings didn’t disappear right away. And sometimes they never did. But he still didn’t like the fact that Jespice acted like this so blatantly in front of him. It didn’t matter that Jespice was admitting to his wrongs and assuring Calix that he’d be backing off. He grunted in approval and narrowed his eyes. Calix was also aware that Lúthien cared deeply about Jespice. He was a friend she did not want to lose. In that sense… “I imagine you do have her affection, Legionnaire Cane. I, on the other hand, have her love.” Calix didn’t know how that would affect Jespice or if it even would, but he found himself wishing that it did. And that it kept that sheepish look on his face a little while longer.

But it didn’t seem that mentioning Jespice’s physical defeat worked well in his favor so perhaps speaking about something much closer to him wouldn’t help Calix either. For someone who blatantly challenged the praetor to a duel, Jespice didn’t seem wholly confident in himself to carry out the challenge. He took one look at Calix’s sparring sword (a sparring sword) and stepped backwards. Calix resisted the urge to lift it. He merely raised an eyebrow when Jespice motioned for him to wait, but the son of Cupid proved that he wasn’t completely crazy when he went to the rack to pick out a blade of his own. Calix nodded to himself. A fair fight with dull swords. No one would be fatally injured like their first encounter. Not that Calix wanted to further maim Jespice. Calix was sure the other boy had quite the face when it wasn’t destroyed. He picked a sword rather quickly and fell into the generic fighting stance that the sword masters taught the new Legionnaires who had never held a blade. Calix found himself nodding slightly in approval. Looks like he had retained some sort of skill. Maybe, on equal grounds, Jespice would prove himself something close to a worthy opponent. Though Calix doubted he would ever find someone as handy with a blade as Calla.

Calix kept a poker face as the oddly amiable Jespice became even more familiar. He spoke as if them fighting and Calix ‘beating him up’ was an inside joke shared between the ‘best buddies’, as he so cringingly put it. Calix’s battle mode activated as quickly as Jespice’s locket transformed into a shield. Jespice was now completely armed while Calix only had a sword. The son of Cupid sure was taking extra precautions. That made Calix feel a bit more powerful while, at the same time, set those same cautious bells off in his head. Calix turned the sword in his hand. No matter. This would be the last time they’d be in an encounter such as this. A last stand for the both of them. Calix would make sure to ‘get all of his punches in’. The praetor smirked. “I plan to.” With a last twirl of the gladius, Calix lunged, aiming the sword with an opening between Jespice’s sword and shield.

Calix mentioning that he had Luthien’s love made the anger bubble up in Jespice’s stomach again. The son of Cupid felt his eyebrow twitch, but he did the best he could to remain calm. “Yeah. I know.” He grunted “No need to remind me.” It felt as if Calix was trying to rub it in his face. Jespice regained his composure; he wouldn’t let himself slipped back into normal teenage behavior again. Was Calix watching the son of Cupid the way he was watching Calix? Jespice bit his lip, looking the older boy up and down. It was hard for him to judge what Calix was thinking, especially when the praetor’s face gave so little away. Calix’s occasional movements, a nod or eyebrow raise, affected Jespice more than it should have. “You always act like you’re better than everybody else…” The son of Cupid hissed under his breath, his fingers twitching around the sword. Jespice felt as if Calix was about to give in a lesson about sword play. All the older boy’s nods were reassurance that the son of Cupid had done the correct thing and wasn’t a total idiot. The thought of this infuriated him.


Although Jespice was trying very hard to conceal his anger, he was sure that Calix could see right through him. There was no way to hide his feelings completely like the Praetor was. The other boy’s poker face was so convincing that if Jespice hadn’t been beaten by him the other day, the son of Cupid would have wondered if Calix had any emotions at all. Jespice didn’t like how nonchalant Calix looked… he didn’t like his face at all really, especially not at this moment, but still when the son of Cupid turned back to face the praetor he had a grin taped to his face. The thought of taking out his anger while sparring with Calix filled Jespice with new found excitement. Sure he might get his butt kicked by the older boy, Jespice made sure to say it a few more times as if it were a joke, but he’d still get a few hits in right? Calix didn’t come back from their last skirmish unscathed. The son of Cupid might have a chance.

Jespice felt a small burst of confidence. He has a shield in one hand and a sword in the other, ready for battle. The son of Cupid had even said a stereotypical phrase before a battle, just to keep the right mood. The teenager kind of felt like he was in a movie, it was as if nothing could touch him. After he spoken a smirk reappeared on his face and his embarrassment from fumbling with his sword was gone. There was a kick of adrenaline pumping through Jespice’s veins, he felt good. However, looking up to find a smirk on Calix’s face made Jespice’s heart nearly stop. The three words that the praetor responded with filled the son of Cupid with both anger and fear. Calix was so confident and he had the skill to back up his words. A chill shot up Jespice’s spine and he gritted his teeth. He couldn’t afford to lose to Calix.

When the other boy lunged Jespice’s body stiffened, but his mind was racing. Instinctively the son of Cupid made a move to step out of the way of Calix’s sword; his arm muscles tensed bringing his shield closer to his body. There was the sound of metal on metal, a sound Jespice couldn’t stand. The force from the attack nearly caused him to drop the shield, somehow Jespice managed to hang on. He was so off balance, the mad shuffling of Jespice’s feet was kicking up so much dust. It was becoming hard to see, there was dust in his eyes and it was probably worse for Jespice than Calix. But even with the dust in his eyes, everything was so much clearer in the son of Cupid’s mind. Maybe it was a demigod thing, or maybe it was some god on his side or maybe it was the adrenaline coursing through his viens, but for once in his life Jespice was able to push aside his A.D.H.D. and clearly see what was happening. The sound of metal on metal echoed through the arena, Jespice was able to defend himself pretty well, he was blocking most of the attacks unlike his last encounter with Calix, but he still hadn’t even attempt to strike back. Everything was moving so quickly, the son of Cupid felt like he was just barely keeping up. Just the thought of a counter strike seemed nearly impossible, but the spar was going nowhere.

…I can’t afford to lose…

The thought was like a storm cloud in the back of Jespice’s mind. His mind was racing, looking for an opening, trying desperately to find a way to fight back, but the son of Cupid was just a legionarie in the fourth cohort and Calix was… well… Calix. Jespice accidently yelled out a curse when another one of Calix’s attacks threw him off balance.

…I wasn’t designed to fight…

The son of Cupid tried to regain his balance, but another attack came before Jespice could even clear his head. There was the clash of sword on shield and the force of it shot pain up the teenager’s arm. Jespice’s main line of defense went flying out of his right hand, landing with a muffled thud in the dust. The son of Cupid’s stomach did a summersault in his body and his right hand quickly moved to grab the end of his own sword so that he was holding the weapon like a baseball bat.

…Not good. This is not good…

The clash on metal on metal filled the air again as Jespice tried desperately to keep up with the older, more experienced demigod. He bit his lip, sweat dripping down his brow trying to keep the metal of Calix’s blade from hitting his own body. After the first attack hit the son of Cupid’s skin he lost almost all of his hope. The sword was a sparring sword, the metal wasn’t sharp, but it still sent pain running up and down Jespice’s side. The son of Cupid couldn’t stop himself from cursing loudly when he got hit for the second time. He could feel the frustration building inside him, if this had been an actual fight he would have been on the ground bleeding out. Another burst of adrenaline pulsed through Jespice, his body was trying it’s best to help him out. Frustration and anger were clouding his thought. He hated Calix. He hated that the other boy was so good at sword play. He hated that he was losing to him again. If Calix didn’t accidently beat Jespice to death now he’d surely be killed later in a much more painful way. He needed to win.

“CUT IT OUT”

Jespice bellowed. His words had so much power behind them that it might have taken Jespice off guard if he hadn’t been fighting. Immediately the son of Cupid ducted underneath Calix’s attack, reached his left hand out and clamped it around the older boy’s right wrist. Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion as Jespice sent his sword upward near the praetor’s face. The metal glistened as if it were sweating. Then the moment was over, the strange moment where Jespice actually had some sort of fighting skill, where things actually seemed to go his way. The son of Cupid stumbled backwards trying to get out of Calix’s way before the praetor could recover from what had magically just happened. The sword felt weak in his right hand, his whole body was off balance again. Had Jespice’s attack even touch the praetor?

There was a pause in the battle, giving Jespice a second to catch his breath and figure out what had just happened. Had that attack actually happen or did the son of Cupid just imagine the whole thing? Calix looked unscathed. Jespice put his left hand back on the sword and tried to swallow the lump that was forming in his throat. His legs felt wobbly of the sudden, his energy seemed to have been drain. The son of Cupid held his sword a little lower than he had before. Jespice tried to mask the problem with a smirk and some gloating.  “What? Surprised I did something right for once?” the son of Cupid said, his sudden exhaustion could be heard in his voice. What had happened to him..? What had he done to become so tired? “You’re not scared to fight me now, are you?” Jespice continued, taking in a few deep breaths preparing for the fight to continue.

To say that Calix felt underwhelmed at Jespice’s performance was a severe understatement. The son of Cupid looked menacing in his battle stance. His gladius looked well-poised and the positioning of his shield seemed as if it would work in his advantage. Keyword being ‘seemed’.  Calix actually thought and hoped that Jespice would prove his worth, not only as a Legionnaire and a soldier, but as someone who would protect Lúthien. They both cared enough about her to get into a scuffle in the first place. A scuffle that Jespice performed decently in. The Legacy still felt the sting in his upper lip and the throb of his black eye. Of course there was the possibility that Jespice’s strikes were the work of sheer dumb luck and his lack of control… but a Roman soldier should have known how to swing a sword properly at least. Calix didn’t know if Jespice was better as a fist fighter or if the heat of the moment instilled something much fiercer in the son of Cupid… but Calix just expected a much more explosive response. ‘Well,’ The Legacy thought with a mental sigh. ‘Looks can be deceiving. Another easy victory.’ The second Calix’s sword made contact with Jespice’s shield, Calix felt that statement engrave itself in his mind. Another easy victory. Another mental sigh. He wondered if he’d have time to get some actual training in after this ended.

It would have been rude but not entirely incorrect to say that Calix didn’t enjoy this. He struck once and Jespice moved sloppily away. Calix noticed the nerves in his feet. He raised an eyebrow and stuck again, a simple stab forward, aiming for the center of the shield. Another clash and more retreating from his opponent. Calix didn’t even lift the gladius in defense of himself anymore, and he walked toward him instead of putting effort into his strikes. Calix fought to keep a smirk from his face… the only real fighting he did in first few minutes. Lazily, Calix swung his sword. Panicky, Jespice desperately tried to defend himself. Calix swung a bit harder, in a wide arc that left his torso open for Jespice to retaliate… all the son of Cupid did was get off balance. Calix ‘tch’ed under his breath and lowered his sword again, strolling up for another hit. What was the point of having a big shield if the weight did nothing but impair you? The second Jespice looked to be regaining his balance, Calix struck again with even more force in order to teach a lesson. The shield clattered out of his hands and Calix twirled the gladius menacingly, advancing even quicker. With a roar, Calix went in for an underhand strike which Jespice blocked… but not easily. He pulled back and stabbed forward, clipping Jespice’s upper arm. From the arm, Calix swung the gladius down and tapped his leg, earning a curse. Calix frowned. Jespice needed to learn how to fight.

As if the other boy read his mind, the burst of energy that caused Calix’s two injuries decided to make an appearance again.  Calix had another strike aimed at Jespice’s torso and, after a loud, frustrated yell that made Calix’s eyes widen in surprise and his lunging step to falter, Jespice finally made a move. The son of Cupid ducked and Calix’s gladius hit thin air. Before he could swerve and redirect his strike, Jespice’s hand closed around his sword wrist.  And then a fatal shot to his face. Calix held his breath and tilted his head back. But not fast enough. Jespice swung the sword with enough force that the edge made a tiny red mark on his skin. It may have been a bit of an open wound, Calix felt a sting. Calix stumbled back for a step or two, and his hand went up to rub away the red. Not that bad. Interesting. Calix stood still with the gladius at his side once more. The Legacy looked at his opponent in a way that could have been described as concerned. But it seemed that Calix had no reason to be concerned. Jespice smirked at him and boasted at his hit. Calix resisted the urge to snort. His one hit versus his two. Nothing to be that proud of. But Calix still heard the toll of the fight in Jespice’s voice. He had half a mind to call off the fight but knew that would hurt Jespice’s ego more. ‘If that’s even possible,’ he thought snarkily. Calix straightened his posture and hefted the gladius again. “Glad you have a spine.” And Calix lunged again.

But halfway through his strike, Calix felt a pain. It started in his neck where Jespice had grazed him. The sliver of an injury that he sustained burned like he’d been touched by a brand. And it spread. The hand clutching the sword twitched while the other closed around his neck. He swallowed and took a deep breath. The burning crawled up his neck to his chin and, at the same time, downwards past his shoulders, toward his chest. Calix was getting hot. His eyes began to water, and he blinked rapidly. His breathing became shallower. And then the heat reached his heart. The gladius clattered out of his hands, and Calix dropped to his knees. He couldn’t lift his arms, they hurt too much. He couldn’t lift his head. It felt like a searing hot anvil was sitting on the back of his neck. And he couldn’t breathe. Calix slowly lifted his eyes… he could barely see Jespice. Calix opened his mouth with great difficulty, it was as if his tongue had melted. And he couldn’t breathe. Calix wheezed and collapsed. He curled into the fetal position in an attempt to stem the burning. Oh gods, Calix was on fire. That’s what it felt like. He was suffocating. Calix couldn’t even moan in pain. It hurt. Gods, it hurt. He was dying… he was dying…

“I’ll kill you!” 

An echo of the threat from that day rocked Calix’s body like an earthquake. It rang in his ears and pounded in his blood and swam through his mind and took over his entire consciousness. This was it. This was how it would end. Even though it felt as if his arm was leaving its socket, Calix forced his hand up to clasp around a tear drop shaped piece of glass around his constricted neck. He clutched it like his life depended on it. Calix saw the darkness closing in, edging around his eyes. He was trembling. He couldn’t stop shaking. Who would find him like this? Out of everything… he hoped it wouldn’t be Lúthien. That the next time she’d see him he’d be looking better and restored on his funeral pyre. It felt as if every single bone in his hand was shattered fifty times over and yet he clutched his pendant all the tighter. Calix took a breath that felt like a dagger being twisted in his lungs… and breathed… “Lúth…ien…” …and breathed no more.

Jespice’s face dropped when he saw that Calix was lunging again. The son of Cupid’s body felt like lead, defending himself against the praetor now would be impossible. He had failed… Jespice’s insides swirled at the thought of what he would have to face as punishment for losing. Then something brought Calix to a sudden stop. The other boy clutched his neck, where Jespice’s just now noticed he had managed to graze him. Jespice bit his lip and watched his face a mixture of surprise and confusion. “…Calix?” The son of Cupid mumbled. The question ‘are you ok?’ was on the tip of his tongue, as the praetor grabbed at his heart, but Jespice kept his mouth shut. As the older boy fell to his knees Jespice’s mind finally processed what was happening. This was supposed to be happing… The son of Cupid meant for this to happen… right? Jespice let out a laugh, trying to regain his composure, and then advanced toward the praetor. “You underestimated me.” The son of Cupid said, searching for words to say. The poison was taking effect so quickly; Jespice would be lying if he said it didn’t freak him out. Sure the son of Cupid had attacked people before, but he never watched someone dying like this. The tiny wound of Calix’s neck was so obvious now, red and inflamed… Jespice could see the veins that were around the small cut too. The son of Cupid tried to swallow the lump in his throat and began to pace around Calix, like a villain would do in the movies. The action just felt appropriate.

“Pluto’s poison works quickly doesn’t it? How do you feel right now Calix? Does your heart hurt? Do you feel my pain?” Jespice tried his hand at a maniacal laugh, but instantly felt stupid for doing so. Not that it really mattered; Calix was focused on other things. The other boy lifted his eyes, but it was clear that Calix could barely see. The praetor’s eyes were cloudy and it sounded like his throat was closing off. Jespice flinched when Calix collapsed and curled into a ball. The older boy seemed so vulnerable; it made the son of Cupid uneasy. ‘Ignore your weak feelings you idiot, this is what you wanted to do’ the teenager thought, squatting down near Calix’s face. He grinned down at the other Roman’s pained face. “How does it feel to be so weak, Calix, to not be able to control what happens to you?” Jespice asked, it felt right saying the questions that Calix couldn’t answer in his condition. It was like releasing his hidden angers. It was also giving a reason for his actions in a way. It was as if the son of Cupid’s rhetorical questions were an excuse for his murderous actions. “Now people will take me more seriously. I don’t fool around.” Jespice said, his voice shaking like the other boy’s entire body.

“Lúth…ien…”

Jespice’s whole body stiffened, he had been so caught up in the moment that the son of Cupid forgot about Lúth. She would hate him for this if she found out. “Yeah… she’s finally safe from me.” The teenager said, a small amount of pain was in his voice. “But I’ll keep here safe from what is going to happen… somehow… I love her, I really do.” Jespice said, and then looked back at Calix’s motionless body. Panic ran through his mind. Was he breathing? “Calix?” The son of Cupid looked down at the praetor with wide eyes. He hadn’t fully understood what killing someone actually meant, Jespice had never killed anyone before… The son of Cupid had never seen a dead body before even. The situation made Jespice feel ill. It was time for him to leave. Who would find Calix’s body? Hopefully not Lúthien… anyone but her. The son of Cupid stood up on his leg, his whole body felt off balance and there was a good chance that he would throw up soon. “Give Pluto my regards…” Jespice mumbled, walking backwards to the arena’s entrance. “It’ll proof that I actually completed my orders.”

Chills were running up and down Jespice’s body, he felt so cold. Quickly the son of Cupid reached into his pocket and pulled out the small vile of poison that he had gotten earlier that day. The dark glass bottle still had poison left in it… It would be useful to have later, but the sight of it made the teenager feel even sicker. The symbol of the Tripartite was printed clearly on the side of the bottle too, Jespice couldn’t keep it. “Now people will know what made this happen…” he sighed, throwing the bottle so that it landed near Calix’s body. The glass must have broken when it landed, because a dark color smoke rose from the spot where it fell. Grimacing at the site he was leaving behind, Jespice turned on his heel and started to run, dropping his borrowed sword before he left. He needed to get away, far, far away. This would probably been seen as a declaration of war from the Tripartite if that symbol on the bottle stayed intact.

What the heck had he done…

((sooooo this is really late, but I can't just leave Calix there. So!))

Her day had been going pretty well. For once, the Greek had managed to get a whole day off. No paperwork, no worrying about what idiot was going to come stumbling into the infirmary for jumping off the wall on guard duty. Just a day to get some much needed practice with figuring out her powers, and how to use the sword that her father, Jupiter, had given her. While it was perfectly balanced, finding the control to not allow the thing to blow up in her face was a challenge. While she herself had a slight resistance to electric surges, her clothes were not. All of her exercise gear had holes from said surges, and the rest of her wardrobe was on the verge of having said holes from her sparking fingers. Hell, Mia had damn near burned First down because of the sparking. Not that she’d admit it of course. It was obvious who had caused it, however, and while there were fire extinguishers by almost every bed, that accident was what had the Greek traveling to the Arena of a bit of training.

The Arena, for the most part, was deserted, save two others. Guess Calix is giving sword lessons to that Legionnaire, she thought. Mia watched the two for a moment while she pulled on a pair of rubber gloves she had snatched from the infirmary. It wouldn’t necessarily stop the flow of electricity from her to the gladius, but it did impede it somewhat. Flinching from the onslaught Calix was giving the poor guy, she turned her attention towards the goal of finding a training dummy in the storage closest; one that no one would mind her accidentally obliterating and/or setting on fire.

She was gone for all of five minutes. She thought nothing of the sudden ”CUT IT OUT!” After all, Calix was giving the guy a serious beating, and the gods knew she would do something similar every time they trained together. She thought nothing of the sudden quiet, the lack of clashing metal ringing in the air. Five minutes, she was gone, finding one of the worst off dummies available. Neither the silence, nor the slight echo of a harsh gloating voice made it occur to the woman that something was wrong. No, the Greek ignored it and left the small closet to check on her stuff, but froze when she saw Calix lying on the ground, curled in a ball, the other standing over him. The sight made her frown; the only people who could put Calix on his back were Calla in training and Lúthien in an entirely different situation. Last she checked, the camper was neither of the two women. “Pluto’s poison works quickly doesn’t it?” The words made her freeze before scurrying behind the door, a hand clamped firmly over her mouth. And she sat there, frozen with terror. Following the other’s gloating closely, Mia listened for anything that could identify him, especially if… No! Don’t even go there, Mia! she thought, a shudder running through her hunched frame. Calix couldn’t die. He couldn’t. She couldn’t lose someone else, not again. No matter what the camper thought, her little brother wasn’t going to die.

Another moment, another long, excruciating moment, and the sound retreating footsteps echoed throughout the arena, followed by the sound of breaking glass and the clang of a sword being dropped. A quick scan and Mia was by Calix’s side, checking his vitals. She cursed and started CPR after getting him on his back, yelling for someone to help. Two guards answered. “You,” She said motioning to one. “Get that sword over there and get it to the infirmary. Be careful with it; it’s coated in a fast-acting poison. Tell them that Mia said to start working on an antidote immediately, a Praetor is dying and needs it. After that, go to the Principia and tell them that Praetor Kiril is hurt and that I’m taking him to the infirmary to be treated. And if you go to the Principia first, I will hunt you down and gut you myself, do you understand?” Mia nodded when the guard did the same, and waved them away. “Good. Now get your butt in gear!” Then she turned to the other and pointed at her gear. “Go get my gym bag. There’s a water bottle full of nectar. That should slow the spread. Then go get anyone else in the area that you can find; they don’t have to be guards, but they do need to be able help carry him. Two or three people should be good.” The guard nodded and did as she asked, running to find help a minute later.

The Greek was running on pure adrenaline now, her mind fully focused on making sure Calix made it to that antidote. A calm washed over her whenever she worked with a patient, and no matter her connection to Calix, this instance was no exception. Since having become a medic, Mia kept a well-stocked first-aid kit that was essentially on par with a paramedic’s tool kit. Only it was smaller so Mia was able to keep it in her bag. She pulled the bottle of nectar out, praying she wouldn’t kill him by giving him too much. She poured a bit on the cut on the side of his neck, cursing as she realized his throat had swollen shut. Mia muttered a quick prayer, both to her father and to Apollo, as she pulled a scalpel out of the kit, tearing through the plastic that kept is sterilized. She made a small incision at the soft spot between his collar bones, making it deep enough to go through his windpipe, a small, hollow tube following behind. A few more minutes of CPR, the repeated cursing of him and his family, and muttered promises to the gods to gut whoever did this got him breathing again.

The first guard arrived as she stabbed the Epi-pen into Calix’s thigh, hoping the epinephrine would be enough to keep him breathing until she could get him to the infirmary. He was breathing heavily. “They’re working on the antidote and getting ready for you to bring him in. Praetor Emmanuel and the Praetor’s wife know about his condition and they’ll meet you there.” Mia nodded in response as the other guard returned with two others.

“One of you got get that back board on the wall over there. We have to carry him there. When we do, his head needs to me lower than his chest. The cut on the side of his neck was the only injury, so that must be where the poison entered his system.” They loaded him up and carried him to the infirmary; the hard part had just begun.




That mourning seemed to have been a lifetime ago, while, in actuality, only a few hours had actually passed. She was tired. She was scared. But, thank the gods, Calix was finally stable. Mia rubbed her eyes, resisting the urge to yawn. Her stomach growled and made it known that Mia hadn’t actually eaten anything since breakfast.

Lúthien wouldn’t leave; not that Mia blamed her any. She got a sick feeling in her stomach every time she contemplated leaving, even if was only for the few moments it would take to void her bladder. The growling grew louder and she heaved a sigh. Standing she patter Lúthien’s shoulder, trying to lend her some comfort. “I’m going to get find something to eat. I’ll bring something for you, okay?” Mia didn’t get a reply. She left anyway, wanting to give Lúthien some semblance of privacy, and actually tried to look for something to eat. Yes, Mia might’ve been worried and scared for her friend. Yes, Mia was exhausted and starving. But there was some good news.

Calix was stable, and dammit, she was going to make sure he lived.