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Philothea was beginning to think her travels would never end. She spent a lot of time talking to Zoe about what they would do when the whole conflict was over. At this point, their dreams consisted of sleeping in an actual bed, eating “real food”, and taking warm baths.
When Philothea saw the white towers of a castle rising up on the horizon, she couldn’t believe it was real. Pouli, however, confirmed the structure’s existence by shooting off of Zoe’s shoulder, crying out: “My grape! My grape! I saved the princess! Where is my grape?”
He vanished from their sight, but Raven put Philothea’s worries to rest with a wave of her hand.
“It will be good if he arrives before we do,” she shrugged. “Assuming your dad is at home, it will be easier to convince him you are, in fact, his missing daughter if Pouli tells him.”
“Do you think Philothea’s dad is going to try and kill us?” Zoe remarked.
Philothea burst out laughing– a natural reaction for someone who was disturbed and horrified.
“Really?” Raven remarked, looking at Zoe with one eyebrow raised. “Even I have more sensitivity than that.”
“Look, given how the rest of Philothea’s relatives have treated her, I want to be prepared for anything.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Raven remarked. “Philothea’s managed to protect us from all her homicidal family members thus far.”
They continued walking for some time before Zoe said:
“Promise if anything goes wrong, you won’t get rid of me.”
Philothea answered with a shrug.
“I mean it,” Zoe pressed. “Don’t turn me into a bird. Don’t zap me away to the falls.”
“I need to keep you safe,” Philothea mumbled.
“No,” Zoe insisted, the corners of her mouth turned very slightly downward. “I’m older! I need to keep you safe.”
“You don’t have magic,” Philothea argued.
To her surprise, Zoe’s frown deepened, and her eyebrows scrunched together. For maybe the first time in her life, she was making a legitimate facial expression, and that expression was one of frustration.
“I don’t care. I’ve looked after you my entire life, and I am not going to change that now.”
“Can we continue this conversation later?” Raven asked. “It appears we have company.”
Philothea and Zoe turned their attention to the road ahead.
A lone rider galloped toward them. They could tell he was a nobleman by his richly embroidered velvet tunic and handsome white war horse. He was cloakless, hatless, and had clearly left wherever he came from in a hurry.
From a distance, the only physical features Philothea could make out was his white hair and beard. But as he drew closer, Philothea got a better look. He was an older man, certainly too old to be riding so recklessly. As she was squinting at him, she felt something land on her head.
“Here is the baby!” she heard Pouli chirp from above. “Where is my grape?”
The newcomer brought his horse to a halt before Philothea, dismounted and stood for a moment regarding her with disbelieving eyes.
Philothea stared back. He was very fair; his hair had probably been blonde when he was younger. Yet, Philothea recognised the soft, gentle features–they were hers. They were Zeno’s too.
She opened her mouth to speak, but it was a long moment before she found the courage.
“Daddy?” she finally asked.
Tears flooded his cheeks. He nodded and pulled her into a tight embrace. “Yes, yes,” was all the king managed to choke out.
A long moment passed before Zoe glanced at Raven and said, “This is nice. Do you want a hug?”
“I will stab you in the face,” Raven replied.
Zoe nodded approvingly at this response.
The king finally released his daughter. Wiping the tears from his eyes with the base of his wrist, he said, “I don’t even know your name.”
“Philothea,” she answered.
“Friend of God,” King Cyrus answered. “Beautiful.”
“Do I have another name?” Philothea asked. “One that you and mom gave me.”
The king smiled.
“Yes,” he said. “Your name was Zoe.”
Philothea burst out laughing. Raven shot Zoe a grin.
Zoe raised her eyebrows and said, “Yeah, you’re going to have to keep Philothea, because that name is already taken.”
The Fables of Para Sympan 