It was different with Circe, however. Not bad, just…different. There was no power that flickered over her skin; dogs and snakes did not conjure themselves out of thin air to join her. Rather, the atmosphere had gotten colder and thinner, and Circe looked as if the color had been drained out of her. Her hair began to fall out of its crown of braids until it was whipping around her shoulders, caught in some imaginary breeze. As she slowly lowered her head, her eyes were glowing entirely white, something utterly otherworldly in them. It sent a chill down Aeëtes’s spine as he tried not to fidget too terribly.
The words that Circe was repeating started to get louder, and everything in the house began to vibrate. Small bowls and herbs began to rise into the air, shaking all the while, as the kitchen started to look as though gravity did not apply. Pelias let out a squawking noise as he, too, levitated slightly off the bench. Hecate was also suspended in midair, but she seemed utterly unfazed, not a hair out of place as she watched on.
The atmosphere around Aeëtes started to glow, and like each time that he had transformed before, he began to disappear in a ball of golden light. The tension seemed to thicken throughout the room as they waited—Hecate and Pelias watching on, Circe lost to her trance. The ball of light expanded until it obscured Aeëtes entirely, and nearly as quickly as it had started, the light exploded, covering the room in bright shards of iridescence. Hecate was temporarily blinded, sitting down at the counter and blinking her eyes to regain her vision.
“That was amazing!” She heard Pelias’s enthusiastic cheer, who was clapping his hands at the table like he was watching foot races. Hecate looked over and felt her breath catch in her throat.
There was Aeëtes–the man, standing in Circe’s kitchen. She had never seen him in the full light of day, and he was…a sight that she knew she would, unfortunately, commit to memory. Circe’s magic had worked beautifully, as Aeëtes stretched his arms and legs, shaking them out. Fortunately, the transfiguration spell had left him with a golden ram’s fleece wrapped around his waist. Aeëtes looked down at it, seeing it for the first time, and let out a chuckle.
“Nice touch,” he winked at Circe, who had regained her senses and no longer looked like a shade. She raised an eyebrow at him, crossing her arms over her chest as she let out puff of air in disbelief.
“I told you.” Hecate caught Circe’s reaction, taking another sip of her cup. “He has this effect on people.”
Circe promptly ignored Hecate, studying Aeëtes’s face. “Well, forgive me for not wanting to see my brother naked.”
As soon as she said the word ‘brother’, the ever-present smile on Aeëtes’s face faded. Hecate’s eyes got wide as she found herself standing and was almost immediately repulsed by her instinct to go to Aeëtes’s side at the first sign of emotional distress. She buried the feeling, keeping her face stoic and expressionless, not allowing anyone to see it warring within her. Circe had no malice in her tone, and she shrugged, turning around and stepping into the kitchen. She grabbed another amphora and held it out to Aeëtes, who shrugged and took a swig.
“I guess it’s sister, then,” he said with a small, warm smile on his face, handing the amphora back to her. Circe took a sip of her own, putting it down and nodding in his direction.
“I swore a long time ago that I would claim no family ties to Helios.” Her voice was quiet, but there was a sincerity to her words that Aeëtes did not take for granted. “I would be happy to make an exception for you, Aeëtes.”
He grinned again, the smile that looked like sunshine pouring over his face like Helios’s dawn itself. Something about it made Hecate’s heart hurt, and she busied herself with her own glass of wine.
“You don’t…” Aeëtes’s tone got somber as he took a step closer to Circe, “You never learned our mother’s name, did you?” Circe sighed deeply, and Pelias and Hecate had the good sense to look away and give the siblings as private of a moment as they could. She shook her head.
“No. Helios gave me to the king and queen in Colchis, same as you. He never spoke of our mother.”
Aeëtes’s eyes got dark, and his brow furrowed, his mind reeling as he absorbed what Circe had said.
“Why did they never mention you?” His voice was sharp, and it was the closest to anger that Hecate had ever heard him. Circe shrugged again, taking a sip of her wine and looking out the window, waiting a moment before she gathered herself enough to respond.
“I angered Helios. I summoned him as soon as I was of age, and I think he was expecting a reunion.”
“I’m assuming that’s not what he got.” Aeëtes bit his lip, nodding along with Circe, understanding her exact pain more than anyone else in the world.
“No. I berated him as soon as his chariot’s wheels touched the ground. I demanded to know who our mother was and why he decided that I wasn’t good enough to be raised among immortals.” The pain that had made its way into Circe’s eyes was unmistakable, and it drove stakes through Aeëtes’s heart.
How many times I have asked the same question, sister.He dared not agree with her aloud, but he nodded, wanting to keep his own wounds close to his chest. She continued.
“He banished me without a thought. I could barely get my questions out before I found myself on Aeaea. Don’t judge the king and queen too harshly.” Circe took another sip of wine. “Helios played with their memories until they forgot me.”
Aeëtes bit back an angry shout, suddenly fighting the urge to run outside and scream into the sun until Helios came down and addressed him. He had never had a direct problem with his father, per se; they’d only met once. Aeëtes certainly had questions for Helios. There were answers that he wanted, but now he found himself rolling over in fury on his sister’s behalf.
“All because you asked him a question?” Aeëtes shook his head in shock. Circe didn’t respond to him, her eyes going vacant. Hecate stood up from where she was sitting at the counter, grabbing the cups of wine from both Circe and Aeëtes.
“Helios is…complicated,” Hecate offered as way of explanation, “It does not excuse him, but I have never heard of any of the gods have the same opinion of him. We’ll need to summon him in—”
Suddenly, there was a roaring sound outside that cut Hecate off. The entire party turned to the window, Pelias nearly sticking his entire head out of it, trying to decipher what it was. At first, it had sounded like an animal, almost like a scream. The noise got louder and louder until it felt like it was right on top of them. It wasn’t one noise, rather, several sounds joining together in a terrifying cry that was somehow both discordant and harmonious. There were snorts, heavy breaths, animalistic screams, and the sound of hooves. Massive, thunderous hooves.
“Oh, gods above us!” Pelias fell from the window, cursing, and the entire kitchen seemed to come to life at once. Hecate and Circe looked to one another, immediately releasing their power. The color began to fade from Circe once again as the triple heads appeared on Hecate. Aeëtes ran towards the window, grabbing his friend’s shirt and pulling him away from it.
“Get back in here!” he hissed, pausing only momentarily to look out himself. “Fuck!” Aeëtes then very nearly landed on top of Pelias, both men scrambling to get away from the open window.
“What is it?” Hecate snapped, both her and Circe moving towards the front door. Whatever it was, they weren’t afraid to face it head on; they surely weren’t afraid to face anything when there were two witches on hand. Aeëtes felt his chest tighten at the sight of Hecate heading outside, her own safety be damned. The rational part of Aeëtes’s brain knew that she was agoddessand could handle herself, but Aeëtes had stopped listening to that inner voice as soon as he met Hecate. There was nothing rational about how he felt for her, so quickly, and he decided he would much rather bathe in his own lunacy than convince himself of anything different. So when he saw her walk straight out the door, he jumped to his feet.
There was a large vase next to the hearth, containing a myriad of different weapons. All of them were dusty and likely dull, but Aeëtes didn’t know that they had all belonged to men who, at some point, had showed up to Aeaea to cause Circe harm. He reached into the vase and pulled out a short sword, nearly tripping over himself to follow Hecate and Circe. Pelias watched Aeëtes go, shaking his head as he stood up and sat down at the table.
“Absolutely not,” he muttered. “These antics require immortality as a prerequisite, and I’d rather not tempt the god’s fortune today.” He poured himself a cup of wine and watched.
