Titan: Custodes Pacis, #2

By Sydney Brianna

On hiatus from the Custodes Pacis to raise his son, Vacilios, a child of Titan gods, was not expecting the last love of his life to be delivered to his doorstep, but she was. That day, the mortal siren risked it all to save the god's son, creating a fierce bond between them, but also, a debt that may never be repaid.

Navigating lust, love, and family, Ameliel and Vacilios succeeded in all they endeavored, until a vision shared during a drunken comrade's rantings threatened it all. It did not matter if the vision was right or wrong, the seeds of suspicion were planted, which appeared to be realized the day she left dejected and heartbroken…by him.

Now, it is her son in danger. After nine centuries, the Titan must repay the unpayable debt, submit to the memories he has been fighting for so many years, and claim the future he was destined to live.

Can they forgive nine hundred years of heartache and decide that there have been too many yesterdays, and the promise of too many tomorrows, to not try?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sydney Brianna
• Release date: Jun 11, 2021
• ISBN: 9781737014447

Book preview

Chapter One

Vacilios paced the floor of the bedroom he shared with Ophelia, while Ceres busied herself with all the processes and steps it took to bring a new life into the world. He was excited, yet nervous. More nervous than he had ever been in his first thousand years on this planet, in fact.

Ophelia’s labor had been brutal so far. His beautiful mortal was exhausted, slipping into fitful sleep between grueling moments of agony. He hoped for her sake the babe would emerge soon, giving her a much-needed respite.

Sitting next to his goddess on the bed, he swiped tear and sweat sodden locks away from her closed eyes. He could not look at her face enough. She was the most beautiful being he had ever seen. Charcoal black hair framed a face displaying deep blue eyes, kissable, full lips, pink and swollen from straining and clenching through the pain.

Laying naked in their bed, her round belly and plump breasts were drenched in sweat, with beads rolling down her flesh, soaking the linens below her. She had bled too much, way too much, and her usually dark olive skin reflected the loss in a more pallid complexion.

She cannot withstand much more of this, Erus. Ceres brought another pitcher of hot water, dipping in a cloth and twisting it to wring out the excess fluid.

Vacilios nodded, She is strong. Do not give up on her just yet.

Ceres dipped at the knees and bowed her head in acknowledgement, handing the cloth to the Titan. He gently swiped it across Ophelia’s brow, who stirred at the contact.

My love... her bright blue eyes slowly rolled open, a faint smile spreading across her face.

He returned a larger smile, Goddess.

She shifted her body to redistribute the weight of her heavy belly, This is taking too long, Husband.

Vacilios ran the back of his knuckles down her cheek, All will be well, you shall see.

Ceres moved to the other side of the bed, feeling the outside of Ophelia’s belly for the hundredth time.

The babe has not turned yet, Ceres’s face betraying the concern she was feeling.

Ophelia reached out her hand to caress Vacilios’s face, her gentle, kind eyes entrancing him, Husband, it is time. You must cut the babe from me.

No. I will not, Vacilios shook his head, grasping her hand, placing his lips against her fingertips.

If you do not, we will both die, Ophelia stated matter-of-factly.

Vacilios looked at Ceres for support, but she did not have the heart to return the gaze.

You will both survive, the Titan attempted to reassure his wife, but even he wore a mien of doubt.

Ophelia winced as pain began to surge through her, another contraction overwhelming her already exhausted body. Squeezing her husband’s hand so tightly his flesh turned white at the loss of circulation to the tips of his fingers. She screamed in agony.

He wished he could take this pain from her. This was one of the few things he could not protect her from, and it was killing him.

Calming from the latest bout of pain, she gave him an I-can’t-believe-I-made-it-through-another-one smirk. He was amazed at her strength. It was he who was supposed to be the strong one, but in this moment, he felt like a helpless babe.

We will not. Do not let me die for nothing, Husband. I want our child to live, with, or without me.

I will not...I can-not... Vacilios rejected her request once again.

Ceres interjected, Perhaps, there is another way.

Her masters turned their gazes to her, tears cresting both their lids.

Vacilios cleared his throat, What is it, Ceres?

We could attempt to turn the babe...by hand. Ceres glanced at Ophelia, apologetic eyes gazing upon her mistress, But it will bring pain beyond imagining.

The Titan turned to look at his wife, who was already nodding her head, yes.

No, the idea of causing her more pain angered him.

Ophelia reached for him, If there is any chance...

He shook his head again, No.

Gazing into his eyes, her voice spoke to Ceres, Ceres, would you be able to do it?

Yes, the maid responded on a whisper.

No. Vacilios moved closer to Ophelia, No, Goddess.

Ophelia pulled him down toward her, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead, Then you lose us both, My Love. There are only a few paths set out before us, and most bear no hope. Our child must live. Already I feel it move less and less. The time for waiting has passed.

A tear streamed down his face, There must be another way.

Ceres can attempt to turn the babe, or you cut it free, she said, wiping the increasing dampness from his cheek. This is what I want. If this be my last request, make it so, My Love.

Vacilios’s face twisted. They knew there was a chance she would have problems delivering a demigod, which is why he took such precautions to not impregnate her the first years of their marriage.

A quick spell on him by a local gypsy woman kept pregnancy at bay for just over nine years, but in the end, he always gave his goddess what she wanted. There was no bigger joy in his life than to see her happy. 

Gods-dammit, he rose from the bed.

Everyone was quiet, until Ophelia shrieked at another onslaught of pain.

We must do it soon, Erus, time is not in our favor, urgency peered at him through Ceres’s chocolate eyes.

He was pacing again. If there were only two ways to proceed, and one could possibly yield life for his love, then the choice pretty much made itself, but he hated it. In this, he must be strong enough to face her pain. Strong enough to face her possible death, and strong enough to face parenthood without her, should that be the gods’ will.

She showed nothing but bravery and strength since the first contraction...it was his turn. Do it, Vacilios hissed.

Ceres moved quickly. Washing her hands in the pitcher, she dried them on her robe as she moved to the bed, settling her body at Ophelia’s feet between her legs.

Era, I must insert my hands and turn the babe. This will be...excruciating, but I will work as quickly as possible. The loving servant waited for permission.

Ophelia called Vacilios to her, Come, My Love. Let me lean against you. Be my rock, once again.

He was at her back with her body comfortably nestled against him in an instant. Extending his hands around her belly, he gave her something to grasp onto.

Please, Ceres, proceed...and...whatever happens, know that I am grateful for you. I am choosing this, come what may, Ophelia offered, smiling weakly at the maid.

Ceres nodded in understanding, gently shoving her hands between Ophelia’s legs. Vacilios could tell when Ceres was entering his wife’s body because she stiffened, her hands squeezing his as hard as she possibly could.

Then, she screamed when Ceres began to manipulate the babe in her belly. A few seconds felt like hours, as Ophelia’s tears, sweat, and blood flowed from her body.

The maid worked quickly, but for his wife, it was hell on Earth. All Vacilios could do was whisper affectionate coos in his beloved’s ear, in feeble attempt to comfort her.

Within a couple of minutes, Ceres was pulling the babe from Ophelia’s body, blood gushing around it as it slid out. Vacilios’s eyes widened at the sight of his...son.

He purred in his wife’s ear, "What a fine boy you have made me, Goddess."

She sighed deeply, her body settling heavier against him, He looks like you.

The Titan countered, No, he is you.

Ceres worked to clean the babe, bundled him, and presented his small body to the new parents, but Ophelia had no more strength to lift her arms to receive him.

Let me kiss him, Ceres, she whispered to her servant.

Vacilios knew how weak his wife had become, so he moved away from her, stacking a few pillows behind her head. Taking up the babe from Ceres, he guided their son’s head to her lips.

She kissed him gently on the crown, At least, I was able to see him.

The Titan moved to pass his son back to Ceres, And you will many more times, Wife.

Ophelia smirked, My sweet husband...

Laying her head back, she gazed at the mural above their bed. The image of her husband as a chubby babe on his mother’s lap had always been so calming for her. This was always my favorite depiction of you.

He moved to her side, settling next to her once again, Ophelia.

She turned her face to his, I love you both.

A gentle smile spread across her lips until her face went straight, the remaining tendrils of life leaving her body on a hiss.

The light in his beloved’s eyes disappeared. He had seen this look many times in his long life, but seeing it upon her visage left him in a panic.

Goddess? He pulled her limp body into his arms, shaking her gently, Ophelia?!?

Eyes filling with tears, he turned to Ceres, Is there nothing we can do?

Deep down, Vacilios knew there was no way to change this, but the question needed to leave his lips despite that fact.

The maid cried, wetness falling on the new babe cradled in her arms, I am so sorry, Erus.

Vacilios rocked his beloved for many long moments, crying, thanking her for the sacrifice she made to gift him a child, and promising to protect and care for him as best he could. He hoped that she could hear him in the Fade. He hoped that she was still able to feel what he was saying.

The Titan knew what happened when a being entered that emotionless abyss at the end, and although he did not harbor much confidence that she would be aware of anything, he could hope.

Sliding her out of his arms to their bed, Vacilios looked at his beautiful wife, paler than the sheets she rested upon, gaze now vacantly affixed to the ceiling above them. The beautiful babe and loving mother peering back at her happily.

It was what his goddess wanted more than anything in the world. If only he could have given her that peace, that joy. Instead, he gave her death. Now, the only peace she could have would be the nothingness of the Fade.

Chapter Two

Death floated across the castle grounds near the perimeter wall, outstretching her hands to permit her curious fingertips the opportunity to explore the texture of the ancient stone.

She inhaled deeply. Ireland was the purest place on the planet. Magic filled every crevice of the land, with the crisp air itself energizing a being’s flesh.

Her eyes closed as she took in the feel of the rough, stone, the mossy smell of the lush, green fertile earth, and the rhythmic sounds of lapping waves crashing against a nearby cliff.

A familiar voice drifting from behind the goddess’s body snapped her consciousness back to the present. It was a voice from a past that seemed so distant, it almost did not feel real anymore, but it was.

It has been an age, has it no’, Death.

The voice’s accent was a blend between Scottish and Irish, but the being it emanated from was no more from either region than he was from anywhere else on the planet, or even this realm. It was the accent of a forgotten place, a forgotten time, a forgotten home.

Father, the goddess bowed her head in respect. I heard rumors you were here.

The older looking male with long, scraggly white hair stepped closer to the raven-haired goddess, his blue crystalline eyes consuming her amber spheres. She glanced away at the intensity. Beings saw many things in his gaze, sometimes glorious, sometimes horrible, but she was here for a purpose and did not want future truths to throw her off kilter.

What brings ye here? The god calmly waited for his daughter to respond.

There have been whispers...

When she had summoned the clarity of mind needed to look at him, Death raised her eyes to meet his, "...about her."

A white mane framed a deceivingly youthful looking face, as a slight smirk stretched across his lips, Aye.

Silence is deafening when so much needs to be said, yet no one speaks. The gods stood in each other’s presence, neither uttering a word as they sifted through an epoch’s worth of history in their minds.

Finally, the father broke the silence with a hefty exhale, There is a way to stop her, but it will take time, and cooperation. If we are unable to find common ground, events will carry out as written.

The goddess nodded in confirmation, I would not have come if we did not believe the consequences to be grave if I did not. We are prepared to carry out our roles.

That is good to hear. Clasping his hands behind his back, the elder god turned toward a stone path leading to the cliff’s edge, Walk with me.

The two meandered along a stone path enjoying the sights and sounds of the emerald landscape around them.

I have a young druid here in my charge. Powerful. Good. But he needs training, he needs distraction. I almost rejected him, but his people were...persistent, the elder god chuckled. Stopping, he turned his body to meet hers, Then, when I was in his presence, I realized who he truly is.

His daughter stopped, matching the motion of his body. Death held her breath, if he thought the male was important, there was no doubt his import was significant.

"He and his chosen will one day bear the witnesses."

Her eyebrows lifted in surprise, "Am I to understand these to the be the witnesses that will help usher in her apocalypse?"

The elder god nodded, Aye.

That is...significant.

Aye.

The gods started drifting toward the cliff’s edge once more. Standing in silence, they watched the vast ocean roll and crash before them, as birds’ dove, and sea life breached the watery barrier to greet the brisk air.

’Tis one of my favorite places. Any realm, any plain, any land. Outside of our home, ‘tis it for me. The older god closed his eyes, losing himself in his senses.

She sighed, It is as if it were carved from our home and transported to this place.

Death turned to her father, What can we do to help?

He opened his eyes, shifting his focus to gaze upon her, I would like to think we can work together, but I am no’ so sure if I can trust ye after our little...skirmish.

We understand a great deal more now than we did then, Father, and she has facilitated the writing of doctrine that will destroy too many. Our followers, and yours.

His penetrating blue eyes peered into her soul searching for a lie, any lie, but he found none. Very well, he turned to stroll back toward his castle, the goddess falling in at his side.

The druid, Cináed, will experience a great loss. It will change him at his core, which is already...volatile. I believe it best if you send the god of protection to assist him during this time.

The goddess stopped, The god of protection is not aware of who he is.

I know...

Her cheeks warmed at the embarrassment of the statement. Of course, he knew; there was not much he did not know...or discover.

I apologize.

The elder god shrugged, The god of protection will protect and serve, ‘tis what his mother called him to do. Tis it no’?

She nodded, Yes.

Then walk with me, Daughter, so we may help the world rewrite its future.

BELEN LOOKED MORE AND more like his mother each day. At times, it was hard to look upon the young boy. The pain of losing Ophelia constantly shadowed his heart, though he would never let his son see as much. Twelve years old, full of life and vigor, he had a sweet soul, much like his mother, but he was undeniably his father’s son.

Stronger, faster, and cleverer than his peers, he was still developing into whatever it was that he was going to become, and the Titan enjoyed every moment of watching him grow.

Taking a break from his work with the Custodes Pacis, he focused on raising their son during these very formative and vulnerable years of his development. Vacilios was not sure if Belen would become immortal, not all demigods did. But for now, he was not, and thusly, his son required constant protection.

Their days were filled with fun and hard work as father taught son what he knew. It could not be everything he knew, of course, because Vacilios had already passed his first millennium, but he tried to teach the boy as many skills as possible.

Arithmetic, reading, and lessons in life skills ranging from cooking, fighting, building, and farming, were constant routines to ensure his son could grow to be a protector, a provider.

He would be the master of the Temple of Ophelia one day. He would need to know how to care for the land and the beings who resided there.

Nights were filled with stories near a fire and chats about Ophelia, with Vacilios regaling Belen with tales of his goddess.

A wine merchant’s daughter from Athens, Ophelia enthralled him from the first moment he laid eyes upon her. During a trip for provisions, the Titan spied her across a crowded market, tending to displays and assisting shoppers with samples and transactions.

As the story was told to Belen, Ophelia stole Vacilios’s heart in that moment, and he had no choice but to go to her to take it back, and as the story goes, he never could.

Since Belen was robbed the opportunity to know his mother, his father spoke of her daily to keep her memory alive. Life had not been the same since she left, but Vacilios made every effort to honor and enjoy their creation, equal parts him and her.

Ceres never wavered in her support, assisting him with tasks ranging from feeding and swaddling during the early years, to caring for the boy when the Titan had to leave the property, which he did only when the estate needed supplies. The dutiful maid was his most reliable resource, which Vacilios believed was an homage to Ophelia, and then Belen, as her attachments to him grew.

It was difficult at times, being father and mother, and he wished Ophelia were there to share it all with. She would have loved her son more than anything on the planet, and he knew what that felt like.

Her love was consuming, raw, honest. The Titan did not believe he would ever love anyone as much as he loved her, but he took some comfort in knowing that even though she was not there, at least, he still had a piece of her.

THE HOUSEHOLD ENJOYED a certain routine, falling into it by rote after so many years, and like all that preceded it, the day started off with morning chores. Vacilios took Belen to the livestock barn to fetch eggs, and then to the orchard to pick quince and figs. The young boy happily weaved between trees, calling out for his father to find him between mischievous giggles. The Titan had just popped his head behind the fifth tree when Ceres emerged from the path, bolting toward them.

Her cries for help were urgent, Erus, come quick! Travelers have arrived, and they are injured. Ceres bent at the waist, hands on her hips, as her voice fought for purchase between the breaths she was trying to catch.

Vacilios called out, Belen, you must come to me. We have to go, now!

The young boy giggled in the tree line, still trying to lure his father into a game of hide-and-seek.

Ceres stretched out her arms to receive the basket of gathered goods the Titan was holding, I will find him. Please. They need your help. A maiden is injured, and she is not conscious.

Thrusting the gathered goods into her waiting arms, Vacilios turned, sprinting toward their home. Able to draw on his immortal speed, he made short work of reaching the structure, where he found a young female in the back of a horse-drawn chariot displaying the obvious signs of an attack, cradled in the arms of an older male, who he presumed to be her father.

Their conveyance was wrecked, with arrows protruding from the sides and a broken wheel held on by a barely connected hub.

Vacilios approached hard and fast, What has happened here?

My daughter...she will not respond, the father fearfully muttered, clutching his daughter to his chest.

The Titan stretched his arms out to the man, Give her to me. We need to assess her injuries.

The father hesitated, clutching his daughter tighter to his body.

I assure you that I mean no harm. We need to get her to safety. Vacilios held his arms steady, still waiting for the father to release that which he protected.

Scanning the area for threats, the man finally relinquished her to Vacilios’s waiting arms. The Titan scooping up the willowy maiden, turning to move away from the chariot.

Her eyes were closed, but he could see that they would be framed by thick black lashes. A long onyx mane flowed wildly from her crown, with a section near her temple clumped from dried blood. The sight rankled him.

The bright white robe she wore displayed splatters of blood, no doubt from the head injury he could see just above her left temple, with crimson streaks running down her cheek and neck, pooling near a delicate golden sand dollar that hung on a loosely fitting black leather strap around her neck.

The maiden’s father was quick to follow the pair, but as soon as he thrust himself up to stand, the male howled, falling back to the floor of their conveyance.

What is your name, Sir? Vacilios called back to him.

The man winced from the pain radiating from his lower extremity, Demetri. My name is Demetri.

Do not move, Demetri. I will come back for you. Vacilios turned toward the temple to see the maiden secured within its walls with the intention to return for her father, but the elder male would not allow it.

Wait! Not without me. Demetri crawled to the edge of the carriage and on to the ground. He would not see his daughter leave his side, no matter how much pain he felt. It was a sentiment Vacilios could understand, and respect.

A shuffling sound emanated from the right side of the temple. The god was not sure if it was friend or foe, so he returned the man’s daughter back into his arms, standing between them and the beings rounding the corner.

A band of six males approached, weapons ready for attack, their leader casually eyeing the Titan like he was a minor obstacle in his path. Hand them over. We have no quarrel with you.

Ah, but you do, Vacilios stood easily, scowling at the approaching mortals. These are my lands, and these are now my guests, which means you are trespassing AND attacking beings under my protection.

Demetri has something that belongs to me, the leader of the marauders claimed, jerking his head in the old man’s direction.

The male was tall, fit, and his bronze skin carried the scars of previous battles. Two black eyes peered out from behind coal colored hair. His dress was expensive, though gaudy, speaking to wealth, but not rank nor taste.

Vacilios spoke to the father behind him, leaving his gaze affixed on the unwelcome visitors, What do you have that belongs to this man?

The father cleared his throat, then responded on a trembling voice, Her.

The leader stepped closer. Vacilios strengthened his stance.

Who is this female to you? Vacilios asked the leader, but it was not he who responded.

A soft female voice carried from behind the Titan, causing a flitter of energy to course across his flesh. It startled him. His head whipped around to behold the being that had caused such a reaction. It was a sensation he had not experienced since meeting Ophelia.

I was to be his wife.

THE TITAN WAS NOT SURPRISED. The female behind him was gorgeous. Long black hair framed an oval-shaped face, with two different colored eyes, one bright blue and one bright green, both beseeching him to keep the males away.

He could understand why a male would fight to claim her. Her long, slender frame laid limp against her father, who was holding her so tightly that her olive skin was turning paler from the pressure.

Was? The Titan asked.

The girl’s father answered, They were to be married this morn, but Adrian attacked her yesterday eve.

Vacilios tensed, turning, You are Adrian?

Adrian nodded, Yes. Ameliel belongs to me.

Ameliel...the name hit him with the force of an explosion. His heart raced and he could barely think straight. Vacilios did not know why yet, but the god knew that he would not be allowing this man to take her; even if she was his.

Why do you run from this man? The Titan turned back to look at Ameliel.

Her father began to answer once again, but Vacilios raised his palm to stop him. He wanted her to speak for herself. He wanted to hear her soft, yet complex voice again.

He tried to take something that was not yet his to claim. The maiden’s eyes bored into the Titan’s skull with a fire he recognized. He had seen it too many times upon the visage of females, especially mortal, less powerful ones.

These offenses did take place in the immortal world, but were farther and fewer between because frankly, those females had the gift of strength and speed that mortal women did not.

There was a look someone carried when they were wronged in such ways, and Ameliel’s mien spoke volumes about what she held back in words. She did not have to explain further. The Titan knew that whatever it was, the man had gone too far.

You are mine. I may take whatever I please, Adrian growled, moving another step closer.

Vacilios was still looking at Ameliel, whose eyes were worried and frightened, when he extended his arm toward the warlord, demanding the man to stop with a flat palm. Take one step closer and it will be your last.

Turning his gaze away from Ameliel, Vacilios faced the man who had not quite realized his situation. He was mortal, starting a fight with a Titan god possessing hundreds of years of battle experience. The god was intelligent, strong, and now, quickly becoming consumed by the female behind him.

The Titan had already decided that Adrian would not be leaving the god’s land with Ameliel in his arms; he would be lucky if he even left it alive.

THE BAND OF ATTACKERS readied their positions. Adrian had come with a plan. He was determined to not leave this place without Ameliel, but what he did not know was that the maiden and her father were now under the protection of a millennium-old Titan god, who after just a moment of interaction, had developed a little torch for her.

Vacilios braced himself, eyeing the males that began to move toward the chariot. An attacker from the left raised a bow, releasing an arrow aimed at the Titan’s head. From the moment the bowstring released, the warrior calculated how long it would take to reach him, and the trajectory it was heading toward his body. It was instantaneous.

Hand shooting out, he caught the arrow, avoiding injury, but also, providing himself with a weapon. Quickly snapping the arrowhead off a few inches from the tip, he turned the projectile back at the assailant. Thrusting the dagger-sized shaft away from his body, he embedded the piercing blade in the attacker’s jugular, dropping him to his knees with only a bloody exhale exploding from his lips.

Five more, he thought.

A man on his right stormed his position, slicing a long blade at the Titan’s chest. Vacilios easily side-stepped the male, laying a heavy blow to the side of his face with the back of his massive hand, knocking him out cold. Bending, he snatched up the sword, waiting for the next attacker.

Advancing from the right, an assailant lunged forward, but he was not alone; one of his comrades on the left joining