I watched brother unite with Iphigenia, it was a heartwarming scene.

“No, no, I do not believe it.” She cried, “is there proof, oh gods what proof is there?”

“Do you remember your chamber in the palace? I will describe it to you,” he said, “what about the last bit of embroidery you did before you went to Aulis? I will tell you what’s on there.”

They talked briefly, and she was convinced of the truth. “Dearest! You are my dearest Ore! My darling, my dear one. You were but a babe, a little baby when I left you. A gift from the gods, that’s what you are.”

“Now, now,” Ore said, trying to calm her down, “and to think you might have killed your own dear little brother.”

The attempt at humor falls flat. “Oh, it’s horrible,” she cried, “I have brought myself to do horrible things! These hands, they are covered in blood, how can that ever be forgiven?”

“All sins can be forgiven,” Ore said, expression now solemn, “the face of justice has changed dear sister. No longer are the gods vengeful, no. Mercy, Atonement, and Reconciliation now open their doors to all who are willing.”

He comforted her for a little while longer, then when we were all once again capable of reason, we discussed our plan for escape.

“Suppose we kill the king,” Ore suggested eagerly, but Iphigenia shook her head. “This kingdom may be barbaric, but King Thoas had been kind to me. I had eaten bread and salt at his table, and the sacred bond of hospitality cannot be betrayed.”

With that idea shut off, we turned to less violent options, and soon agreed on a course of action. Iphigenia left us, and after a few moments, returned with the golden image of Artemis. When she came back, a man was just entering the threshold of the temple enclosure.

“O King, halt! Stay where you are,” said the High Priestess.

The man looked aged, but still had much strength left in him. “Yes, Priestess?”

“These two men here are veil, tainted, not pure. They are murders of their own mother, and the goddess is not pleased with them. There very presence in this temple has tainted this sacred image. I must take the image to the sea to purify it, and there too I must cleanse these men from their pollution. Only after that can the sacrifice be made.”

The King looked disgusted at Ore and me, “most certainly, he says, I shall immediately assign you a team of soldiers …”

“No!” Iphigenia said abruptly, “The evil, it reeks from them. It engulfs the hearts of men near them. All that I must do must be in solitude. In fact, it is better that we announce to the city that no men may draw near to us.”

“I have not thought of the ramifications of such corruption,” the King said, “thank you for maintaining the sanctity of our people. Do as you wish, priestess, and take all the time you need. We do not want to offend the goddess with defiled offerings.”

We left the temple, walking openly in the city streets, while Iphigenia sang at the top of her lungs.

Maiden and Queen,

daughter of Zeus and Leto,

you shall dwell where purity is,

and we shall be happy.

I shot Ore a smile, and he suppressed a chuckle. Never has it ever been this easy before in our lives. Soon we arrived at our ship and boarded, the crew excited to learn that Iphigenia was alive, and that we had so easily taken the sacred image. The sail was set and we went out to see, soon land disappeared and all that surrounded us was the endless blue sea.

While we celebrated on deck during the day, Ore and I were able to be alone there when night came. “I wonder why we can’t see the Earth’s curve from here,” he commented.

“Maybe because there is no light.” I answered. It was a dark and moonless light.

He punched me playfully on the shoulder. We were sitting under and lantern and the fire lit up his playful face in the most beautiful way. I looked at him, and longed to do more, even though I now know that it was never meant to be. His expression turned serious, then vulnerable.

“You don’t hate me?”

“Why would I hate you?” I asked, surprised.

“Because, well, so many reasons,” he said, then took a long breath, and started letting it all out “I have brought you pain and shame in exile, I cannot love you back the same way you love me, and I even made you promise to ask my sister's hand’s in marriage, which now that I think about it, just makes everything worse. And that’s not even all, I also…”

I shushed him by putting a finger on his lips.

“My loyalty, love, and friendship with you have never faltered in all these years,” I say, “I insisted on going with you to kill your mother, so that pain and shame I brought upon myself. I do not care that you cannot love me the same way that I do you, because being your brother is more than enough for any man. And I would not mind marrying your sister, for she is as intelligent, gentle, and courageous as you are. If I cannot have you, and I will damn well be sure that I have the next best thing.”

I swallowed, “and you know what? All the time we spent together, all the things we did together, I regret none of it. Because without those events, I would not be myself, and you would not be yourself, and we would not be here exactly the way that we are. Never have I ever doubted if I should hold that promise of brotherhood, not during the worst times, and definitely not now. Never have I ever hated you; angry at times, perhaps, but never true hate. And for all the things I can imagine that you would ever do, none of them would bring the feeling of hate to my heart towards you.”

“I am so lucky,” he says, after I finish.

“Yes,” I agreed, “let’s just keep it that way, since it seems that heroes always die tragic ends.”

“Is that who we are? Heroes?” He smiled again, and I was happy that we were entering a lighter conversation.

“Why not?” I ask, “We have done difficult deeds, and brought home a sacred image.”

“Well yes, but heroes always seemed to be the glorious warrior of some war, or at least the exalted slayer of some beast.”

“But we are not war-bringers or beast-slayers,” I say, “we are peace-makers. We have finally brought peace to your house after its cursed turmoil.”

“You think that men care about peace-makers?”

“Perhaps not in our day,” I admitted, “but maybe one day.”

“I think that too,” brother said, “that one day the highest honors of humanity shall be given those who bring peace and prosperity. That by the labor of those people, war shall forever be confined to the books of history.”

We kept talking that night, until the flash of the morning sun broke the horizon.

“I know I have said this many times,” Ore said, “but I want to say it again Py, I love you.” I nodded, then he seemed to hesitate.“I cannot give you my body Py, but I can give you this, at least before we are with Ele,” he smirked. Then he grabbed my head, and pressed his lips against mine before I could do anything.

It was a beautiful sight to behold. To men at the bow of our ship on an empty deck, set against the rising sun, sailing towards home.