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After weeks at sea, Levi felt as if the sandy beach was swaying when he stepped onto solid ground. Behind him, his seasick men climbed from the battered remains of their ship, carrying what waterlogged baggage they’d managed to salvage. Three damaged ships were anchored from the nine that had left from Troy. The rest had been smashed to pieces in the sudden storm.
Once they all disembarked, Levi felt their eyes on him, looking to him for guidance, for answers. They’d put their trust in Levi the night Troy went up in flames—men who had realized the futility of fighting, women and children trying to escape the wrath of the Greeks. He’d led them away from home and into unknown waters, and now most of them were dead. Farlan had been on one of the ships that had sunk, injured by the broken mast and then swallowed by the waves. Levi had wanted to send men after him, even to jump in and save his friend himself, but he couldn’t justify risking even more lives on a mission with such a low chance of success.
He sent the men to scout the coast and make camp. He ordered them to feast tonight to revive their spirits, to be grateful that they were alive even if so many of their friends were not.
They pitched their tents, started campfires, and brought out their remaining food. Levi surveyed the landscape: the harbor they had landed in, the woods in the distance that would be a source of timber, and the walled city on the hill beside them. He considered the features of the landscape and the time and timber they would need to rebuild the ships. He thought of all the funeral pyres they would need to construct, and all the bodies they wouldn’t be able to retrieve. The storm had come out of nowhere and disappeared just as quickly, as if the gods themselves were trying to hinder their voyage.
The city on the hill before them was gleaming and beautiful even in the dim light of sunset, built from marble and surrounded by tall walls. Carthage, a fabulously wealthy city on the Libyan coast—that must be where they had landed. Their food was inadequate, and they only had so long before the people of Carthage discovered them. They had no choice now but to beg the king for his hospitality.
In the distance, Levi caught sight of a herd of deer nibbling at grass. He ran into his tent, bringing out his bow and a quiverful of arrows. The others looked around with confusion and alarm when he emerged with his bow raised, trying to assess if there was some unseen threat.
“Should we grab our weapons as well?” A man asked.
“There’s no need for that.” The deer were a few hundred paces away, but he nocked an arrow and let instinct take over as if he had practiced for thousands of years. The bow was an extension of his body, and his eyesight seemed to sharpen as he took aim, felling deer after deer before the herd could panic. He didn’t stop until he had loosed half the arrows in his quiver and a dozen deer lay dead in the valley.
The first time Levi had picked up a sword, he had known exactly how to swing it, how to kill a man with it. Everybody—even Kenny—had said that he was the son of a god, and that was why every weapon he picked up felt familiar in his hands. That was why he had been welcomed into King Priam’s household all those years ago as a youth with no parents and been made into a warrior blessed by the gods. That night Troy fell, he had considered staying to fight, but mastery of every weapon under the sun had not pierced Achilles’ bronze skin, nor would it have saved them from their fate.
They carried back twelve deer carcasses, each with an arrow sent cleanly into the eye. They skinned off the pelts, cut up and cooked the meat, and gave the gods their share. Gloom still hung over the men, but between the meat Levi had brought them and the flasks of wine they had brought out, the mood of the men was improving. If Isabel and Farlan were here, they would —Levi forced himself to dismiss the thought.
Levi cleared his throat and stood to address the camp. He was no Priam or Hector, but he was all the last remnants of Troy had left. “I know how weary you all are. We’ve endured numerous years of war and hardship, and there will be more to come. Mourn your friends; remember them, but find it in yourself to be grateful that you haven’t joined them yet. Endure living on, and don’t regret your decisions that led you here. Tomorrow, we’ll begin repairing our ships and build funeral pyres for the people you have lost. I will personally go to the king of Carthage and gain his assistance.” Levi put as much hope and confidence in his voice as he could, pushing aside his own grief so that the men would see the leader they needed. Levi was the son of a god, and the burden of leadership now fell to him alone.
He slept fitfully, dreaming of cruel flames and bloodied faces before the harsh ocean swept away even the ashes and rubble. A year ago, Farlan had held him as he wept over Isabel’s death on a ship bound away from home. Now Farlan was gone as well, and he had no more tears to shed.
He set off at dawn towards the walls of the city, bringing all the gifts he could offer, fine jewelry and clothing. He knew the stories about the king of Carthage, Erwin—that he had originally been the crown prince of Tyre and fled to Libya when his father was assassinated by an usurper. When offered the land a single cowhide could cover, he had cut up the cowhide and encircled the entire boundary that would become Carthage’s walls. Levi couldn’t resort to trickery with such a clever man. He would need to speak honestly and hope the king’s generosity was enough for their survival.
Getting an audience was surprisingly easy, the guards letting them pass as soon as Levi displayed King Priam’s seal and told them he was a survivor from Troy. The palace was spacious and finely decorated, but not overly ostentatious. Greek statues and vases accompanied Phoenician art and other designs from all over the Mediterranean. Erwin wore robes of Tyrian purple and a simple crown, carrying a sword fastened at the hip. He gave Levi his full attention when Levi approached, staring with enough intensity that he had to resist the urge to turn away. He stopped steps away from the throne, fell to his knees, and bowed his head, offering the gifts he had with him.
It was humiliating to supplicate to a foreign king, but Levi’s pride was worth less than the lives of hundreds of people on his shoulders. “Who are you? What do you ask of me?” Erwin asked. His voice was firm and rich, every bit as regal as he looked, but Levi thought he caught an undertone of apprehension.
“I am Levi, Your Majesty. My people and I are the sole survivors from the sack of Troy, and we have landed on your shores after a storm pushed us off course. We plan to sail for Italy and have no desire to harm you or your people. I was one of Troy’s great warriors, but we now have next to nothing and need your assistance.” Levi wanted to lift his head up and see Erwin’s expression, but he kept his head bowed.
“Get up. I won’t have a great warrior like you on your knees before me, nor do I need your gifts when you have so little. What do you need?”
Levi rose to his feet and looked Erwin in the eye. Erwin was staring at him strangely, but he couldn’t tell why. “We’ve spent the last year at sea and are weary from war and our travels,” Levi said. “We don’t have very much food left, and our ships are damaged from the storm.”
Erwin nodded. His intense stare had abated, and he seemed more thoughtful, the kindness Levi had hoped for showing through. “I know of the deep sorrow of your people. Whether it is food, lumber, shipbuilders, or lodging that you need, ask and I will give it to you. Let us help construct the funeral pyres for the men you have lost, and I will sponsor funeral games in their honor. I will hold a feast for you and your men tonight, for you deserve a reprieve after the toil of your travels.”
Their camp erupted into cheers when Levi relayed the news, and they were escorted into the city by members of Erwin’s own guard. Levi was given lodging in the palace, and everybody else given places to sleep in the city. Erwin himself came to offer them all parcels of food alongside gifts of coins, clothing, and jewelry.
Levi’s quarters were spacious and well furnished, sparsely decorated with Trojan art. He washed himself and moved his belongings into his new room, turning over the day’s events. The wealth, Erwin’s generosity, the strange look he kept giving Levi—it was impossible to make sense of the king, but he couldn’t afford to question the generosity of his host. The way he had refused their gifts, and told Levi to get up from his knees. The pain of losing Farlan was no less great, but he had at least secured the rest a future for the time being.
Despite his exhaustion, he attended the feast to maintain appearances, knowing he needed to stay on good terms with the king. The wine flowed freely and many of the men were soon drunk as they dined to their heart’s content, but Levi held himself back, keeping his mind clear. It was past midnight before the great hall started to empty, but Levi waited for Erwin to dismiss him. Soon, all the men had left, leaving Erwin and Levi alone at the table except for the slaves. Levi hoped his mood didn’t show strongly on his face, but after a day of putting on appearances, both his patience and energy were waning.
With everybody else gone, Erwin looked less poised and stiff. He had finished two cups of wine that night—Levi had kept track. “How did you end up the leader of your men?” Erwin asked.
Levi knew it was best to humor him, but he was starting to lose his capacity to put on appearances. He remembered that night as clearly as ever: waking up from a nightmare that might have saved his life, reaching for his weapons before realizing the futility of fighting, and gathering everybody he could on the ships the Greeks hadn’t managed to burn. The last year spent travelling perilous waters, driven away from every land they had tried to settle on before finally being given a prophecy: the only place they would ever find peace was Italy. Yesterday’s storm, hundreds of corpses in the sea, and Farlan’s cry of pain as he’d been hit by the falling mast. “Haven’t I told you enough?”
Erwin closed his eyes, sighed, and said, “I’m sorry. I’m sure you have many painful memories you’d rather not talk about.”
Levi simply nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He hadn’t expected Erwin to apologize.
“Go rest. I won’t keep you any longer.” Levi nodded again and left the hall, hearing his footsteps echo against the marble floor. The bed was soft and comfortable, but as soon as he was asleep, he once again saw storms and fires in his dreams.
A week passed, then two. Erwin sent the shipbuilders as promised, and Levi monitored their progress. For the first time in a year, he found himself aimless, with nothing to do but wait. He explored the streets of Carthage and the nearby landscape, and made his way through books in the palace library.
Erwin invited him to dinner every night—whether it was an act of friendliness or a way to keep an eye on him, Levi couldn’t tell. If the rumors were correct, Erwin had come here with almost nothing and made himself a kingdom. His very presence commanded respect beyond his crown and title, but he was no tyrant. Levi had accepted the first invitation out of obligation, but slowly found himself looking forward to the nights where he could catch Erwin alone.
A month after they had first landed on the shore, Levi arrived at dinner and found himself alone save for the slaves. He was about to leave when Erwin arrived, looking more tired than Levi had ever seen. Erwin waved away the slave trying to bring him food and fill his cup. “I’m sorry for being so late. It’s nice to see you, Levi,” he said, trying for a smile.
“Why are you here if you won’t eat?” Levi asked. “You should rest.”
“I know I’ve kept you waiting, but I didn’t want to not show up at all.” He gestured to Levi’s empty plate. “Would you like to take a walk in the garden?”
“If you wish. You don’t have to drag yourself here just to fulfill an appointment. You’re the king. You can do—”
“Whatever I want?” Erwin finished. He chuckled bitterly. “I thought you knew better than to think that.”
“I’ll go.” Levi followed Erwin through the winding halls of the palace and into the garden. The night air was cool and breezy, and the garden bore more plants than Levi could recognize, both strange and beautiful. They walked through paved tile paths with only the stars watching them. Erwin had a different way of walking when he wasn’t in front of others, Levi realized—his stride was less measured and formal, his posture less rigid.
“You’re lonely,” Levi realized. “You weren’t trying to watch or entertain me—you just wanted my company.”
“You speak your mind,” Erwin said. “Everybody else just wants something or another from me.”
Levi remembered putting on a brave face for the men that had survived the storm the day Farlan had drowned, knowing that a leader couldn’t afford being seen hurting by his men. “Did you want to be king?” Levi asked.
“It doesn’t matter what I want or what I have wanted. The people of Carthage needed a ruler, and I knew how to lead.” They arrived at the central fountain of the garden, and Erwin stopped to watch the flowing water. “I’m like you: an exile from home.”
“The survivors I gathered see me as their new king,” Levi said. “I never wanted to rule, but they’ve lost anybody else who could possibly lead them.” He wished he could see Erwin’s face more clearly, and tell what he was thinking.
“I felt so calm the day my father was murdered,” he said. “I gathered a few slaves and fled that very night. I knew that I would be the next target and with my father gone, I had nobody to protect me. It wasn’t until years later, when I had become a young man with a kingdom of my own, that I realized I had nobody to show it to.”
“I’m sorry about your father,” Levi said, knowing that no words he said would be enough. He had been so young when his mother died that he could barely remember her, but during ten years of war, he had wondered time and time again what she would have thought of him. If she would have been proud of the warrior he had become, or saddened at the blood he had spilled.
Erwin turned to him. “How did you become the leader of your men?” He asked. He had asked Levi the same question the very night they’d met, and Levi had refused to answer. This time, he told Erwin all of it. He told Erwin of his time as a warrior of Troy, and the rumors of how he was the son of a god. He told Erwin of the vision that had woken him up in the middle of the night, and how he had donned his armor and ran outside to find the city burning. How he had planned to die defending the city, but caved to Isabel and Farlan’s pleas to flee together. The Greeks had been too busy quenching their bloodlust to pay notice to the ships in the harbor, and he had gathered as many survivors as he could. Isabel had wanted to go back so she could free her favorite horse from its stable, and Levi had relented out of fear that she would do it regardless. He had gone back himself afterwards to search for her, only to find her severed head thrown onto the steps of Artemis’ temple.
He told Erwin of the months they had spent on the sea, how the gods had prevented them from settling on every land they had come across, and the prophecy proclaiming that Italy was the only place they would find peace. How a great storm had destroyed most of their ships, and forced them to land on the shores of Libya, the doorstep of Erwin’s kingdom. How the mast of Farlan’s ship had snapped in half and fallen on top of him, and how Levi had watched him drown. He trusted that at least a fraction of it, Erwin understood.
After that night, Levi started spending more and more time with Erwin. He wondered what Isabel and Farlan would have thought about him, had they been able to meet. Erwin began to let him in his meetings, and would ask for his advice about the running of his kingdom. Levi felt something when he was with Erwin, a spark of warmth that put him in better spirits than any day since that damned night when everything had gone up in flames.
On a warm autumn’s day, Erwin took Levi on a hunting trip in the nearby woods. They rode on horseback, a group of Erwin’s bodyguards accompanying them, and Levi took aim with skill that had made people say he was the son of a god. Erwin became separated from the group chasing after a fleeing stag, riding at full gallop into woods too dense for them to easily follow. They waited for him to return, only to hear the snapping of branches and Erwin’s cry of pain. Levi chased after him without thinking, before the others even had time to react, calling out Erwin’s name.
He found Erwin sitting up against a tree, holding his side and wincing in pain. Levi slowed his horse and dismounted, “Are you alright?” He asked.
Erwin groaned. “My horse threw me, and I fell on some branches,” he said. He braced himself against the tree, trying to stand, and Levi rushed to support him. “Where are the others?” In the distance, a crack of thunder sounded.
“They were just behind me…” Levi realized that the birds had fallen quiet, and that he had lost track of Erwin’s men. The woods were silent save for the snorting of Levi’s horse… and the sound of raindrops hitting the canopy. The rain quickly grew in intensity, water streaming from the leaves above onto the two of them.
Erwin pointed to a small opening in the cliff face before them. “Let’s wait out the storm there,” he said. With Levi helping him walk, they stumbled into the cave. Levi tied his horse near the mouth of the cave, while Erwin lay down on the cave floor.
“Get your tunic off,” Levi said. “I’ve done triage before. Let me look at your injuries.”
Erwin slowly and carefully peeled off his tunic, revealing bruises forming around his left ribs and a long, thin gash across his chest. Levi ran his hand along the bruised flesh, causing Erwin to hiss in pain, and inspected his injuries closely. The cave was strangely well-lit, and he could see every detail of Erwin’s bare chest. He pressed his ear to Erwin’s chest to listen to his breathing, then decided that his ribs were fine. “It doesn’t look too serious,” Levi said. “When the storm is over, we can get you to a doctor.”
Levi froze as Erwin lifted a hand to cup his cheek, staring at him with an expression of awe. “Levi, you look… you’re beautiful in this lighting,” Erwin said slowly.
Levi frowned. “Did you hit your head?” He lifted Erwin’s wet hair to check, but found no signs of any injury.
“I haven’t,” he insisted. “You’ve always been beautiful, but the lighting makes you look divine.” Levi looked up at the ceiling and saw thousands of tiny twinkling lights, as if the stars themselves had been plucked from the sky and hung up in the cave. He looked back down at Erwin, wet from rainwater and half undressed, and realized there was something special about the lighting that made Erwin look less mortal and more like a god.
Levi ran his hand along Erwin’s face, giving up the pretense of checking for a head injury entirely. The warmth Levi had felt during their evenings together was finally starting to make sense. Levi lowered his face until it was inches away from Erwin’s own, so he could look into eyes he had seen countless times but had never appeared so blue until this moment. He could hear the sound of Erwin’s breathing, feel his body heat, and see light reflect off the lines and ridges of his body.
“If you don’t want this, push me off,” Levi said. “Tell me to stop.” Erwin said nothing, remaining still as Levi closed the gap between them and pressed their lips together. Their first kiss was as soft and gentle as a caress from the wind, but they didn’t pull apart until they ran out of air. Outside, another thunderclap sounded.
Erwin was panting, and Levi felt just as breathless. “I could never be sure if you wanted the same things as me, or if I’d just spent too many years alone,” Erwin said. “But I’m glad I’m alone with you right now, because I—”
“It’s not just you.” Levi carefully climbed on top of Erwin, feeling Erwin’s hands settle on his back. He sucked a kiss into Erwin’s neck, then moved down to the collarbone. He ran his hands along Erwin’s chest, and pressed his forehead onto the unbruised side of it. He tasted salt and rainwater mixed on Erwin’s skin, and felt the rapid thumping of his heartbeat. He moved lower and lower until he had reached the trail of hair leading down to his crotch, and placed his hand on the hem of Erwin’s pants. “Stop me.”
Erwin said nothing, breathing shakily. Levi undid Erwin’s belt with hands that he willed to remain steady, more nervous than he had been in any battle. He shucked off his own tunic, then undid his belt, exposing himself. Erwin ran his hands down Levi’s chest, then placed them on his hips. He brought his hands between Erwin’s legs to wrap around his hardening cock, then the other hand even lower. “Tell me to stop, Erwin.”
Erwin’s voice was raspy with need when he spoke. “Don’t stop.”
Afterwards, curled up in each other’s arms, they could pretend that they were the only two people in the world. “Did I hurt you?” He asked, running his fingers through the loose strands of Erwin’s hair.
“Not in a way I didn’t want,” Erwin replied. When they had been joined together, he had said whatever came to mind, looking happier and more at ease than Levi had ever seen. Now, Levi could sense reservation from him again.
“Do you regret what we did?” Levi asked. Rain still fell outside, but it seemed lighter than earlier. Soon, the storm would pass and they would return to the palace. And when the ships were rebuilt and the weather was right, Levi and his men would sail away.
“Shortly after I made myself king of Carthage, I received a prophecy,” Erwin said. “I was told that I would someday fall in love with a stranger from a far-off land who would be an exile like me. The prophecy said that upon the ultimate realization of our love, I would never see home again.”
Levi felt a sudden chill. “Then why… Why allow this to happen? Why spend so much time with me when I arrived? Why didn’t you turn me away the moment I begged for your help?”
Erwin sighed. “I don’t regret what we did. I didn’t think I’d see my homeland of Tyre again, and my kingdom and duties are here. Stay with me, Levi. I can give you anything the riches of this kingdom has to offer, anything that is within my power to grant. Rule beside me as an equal.”
Levi hesitated. “I…” A monster with the face of a woman and the wings and talons of a bird, screeching that Italy would be the only place the Trojan survivors could find home. The other lands they had been driven away from, whether by people or by gods.
“Stay with me, Levi. Please.” Levi was powerless to refuse. He couldn’t bear to uproot himself again, step aboard a ship knowing he would never see Erwin or make love to him again. He could make Carthage his home, live out the rest of his days by Erwin’s side.
The night they returned, Levi joined Erwin in his room and repeated what they had done in the cave with oil and a proper bed. He pushed Erwin down and made him cry out, finishing Erwin before satisfying himself. A few nights later, Levi let Erwin press him against the mattress, surrendered himself to Erwin’s embrace, and took him inside. Eventually, he moved his belongings and took to sleeping in Erwin’s bedroom. The winter passed blissfully, the ships and talk of sailing to Italy forgotten. They spent the winter sharing warmth, feeling each other’s bodies with gentle touches and drawing out soft sighs beneath the covers, uncaring of the rumors that surfaced about them and their relationship.
In the spring, rumor carried news that another king and his allies were raising an army against them. Carthage hired mercenaries, stockpiled weapons and armor, and prepared for war. The city’s walls were high and they had easy access to the sea, but Erwin refused to force his people to suffer a protracted siege. He rode out to engage the enemy, leading his army from the front, and Levi followed by his side. They left soldiers to garrison the city, but the bulk of the men marched out to meet the enemy in pitched combat. Almost all of Levi’s men, aching for a chance to reclaim the honor they had lost at Troy, followed.
“If we inflict a decisive defeat on them before they reach the city, we’ll force them to stop their campaign without the need for us to survive a siege,” Erwin said at the strategy table. Camped a few days’ march from Carthage, they planned an ambush in a place where they could hem in the enemy into a rocky gorge.
But their Berber mercenaries, positioned at the rear and bribed by the enemy, turned on them. The rest of their force was left encircled and outnumbered: on one side, a steep, rocky cliff—on the other, traitors that had been lying in wait. Their line was still holding out, but it was clear that unless they broke the encirclement, all of them would be cut down by nightfall. The air smelled of blood, fear, and death, carrying shouts and clangs of metal against metal.
“Take my men and your officers and flee,” Levi said. “The horses can make it down the cliffside. I’ll form the rest of the men into a wedge and break out the encirclement to distract them while you escape.” He knew that they had no chance of breaking out of the encirclement, but the distraction would allow Erwin to escape, and that was all that mattered.
Erwin saw through him too easily. “No. You need to lead your men to safety. I led us into this trap and I need to take responsibility for it. Whether we break the encirclement or die trying, we’ll distract the archers long enough for you to escape.” He was too calm for a man planning his own death.
“You’ll get yourself killed leading the charge,” Levi said. “I won’t let you die for me.”
“You’ve fought long enough at Troy. I won’t let you die in a war I led you into. Lead your men to safety.”
“What will happen to your kingdom when you’re gone? I can’t lead your army or your people. Your city will be sacked. Your people will—”
“Levi.” Erwin looked so oddly at peace, smiling faintly. “That prophecy I received as a young man… there was one final line I didn’t tell you about.”
“Why the hell does that matter?” Time was slipping through their fingers—everything Levi wanted to say to Erwin scattered into the wind, every hope they’d held about a future together burning away.
“It said that I would never see my home again because I would instead kill myself for you.” Erwin took a deep breath, and Levi thought he could see tears in Erwin’s eyes even as he smiled at Levi. “I didn’t understand why until this moment. Carthage is my home, and I will never see it again.”
Levi had run out of words. He felt numb, but his hands holding the reins of his horse had never been more steady in his life. He prepared to rally his men and lead them into the gorge, to flee towards safety. He understood now, too. That accursed harpy had been right: he would find no home except for in Italy.
“Take your men and flee, Levi.”
“I’ll leave Carthage behind,” Levi choked out. “I’ll take my men and sail to Italy like I said I would.”
Erwin turned away from the cliff, away from Levi and towards the enemy army. “Then go, Levi, and live a long life for me. Go!”
Levi gave Erwin one final look, burning his voice and form into his memory, then gathered his men near the edge of the cliff. Behind him, he could hear Erwin’s voice as he rallied the rest of the soldiers into making a final, desperate charge. Levi urged his horse down the steep cliff face, leading his men to safety and refusing to think of Erwin charging to his death.
He couldn’t bring himself to ever look back.