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Chapter Text

The weather had not been kind to this part of Hellas. Drought had struck down both their animals and plants, with little water to even wash with. People weren’t to the stage of hunger, yet, but it was imminent. And what excess food people did have was paid in tribute to Demeter, hopeful of a bountiful crop. Kassandra could hear the cries from the temple, even at this early hour, as desperation started to seep into the minds of her neighbours. They had suffered at the hands of the drought, with Kassandra sending word for Phobos to remain with Alexios in Lakonia until their food was stable enough to house him. The limited plants that Kassandra knew how to grow had all failed under the harsh dry winds, and her exasperation was paramount. She didn’t want to buy food, because buying food meant their drachmae reserves depleted, which meant that she would have to find work.

Kassandra finding work was a constant argument in the house. Natakas had achieved the odd job within Dyme, because the people knew him, but outside of the village he was met with the suspicion reserved specifically for foreigners. He didn’t want her to find work, and she didn’t want to lose their savings.

Kassandra lay awake in their bed, Natakas’ warmth freeing her of the notion of leaving the covers. She rolled over and gently stroked his hair, causing him to stir slightly towards her hand. She loved this time of morning: quiet, calm, and dark. It felt like it belonged wholly to her, with nothing to interrupt her reverie.

Abruptly, an assault from within jolted her, reminding her that she was never truly alone. Her resident rolled until they settled into a spot which pressed urgently on her bladder. Huffing, Kassandra stood up from the bed and dressed. Ensuring that her footfalls fell silently, she tracked from the bedroom to the garden.

Her malnourished, dry garden cowed to the wind as Kassandra sorted herself out. This was her new morning ritual: she would rise early and start the day’s tasks, with Natakas waking on sunrise. Usually Darius woke around the same time, but he was running an errand that wouldn’t see him back for a few weeks.

Kassandra looked up at their bedroom window, knowing how much of her life now slept within it. She didn’t know how she’d gone from place to place and person to person before, it seemed like the life of a different person who she’d only heard stories of. The cloud of safety around them was foolish, she knew, but she couldn’t help but feel like permanency was the new world order: her, and Natakas, and their children, growing in love and laughter. Kassandra smiled slightly, still looking at the window. Then a gust of wind blew through her hair, throwing it backwards. She turned then to making bread for them and the hungry neighbours who would no doubt eventuate that day.

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She was sweating, and had pain in her hips, heels, and wrists. She’d kneaded too many loaves, and had only been able to place two in the fire, well behind where she’d wanted to be by this time of the morning. Her focus was solely on the dough in front of her: turning it over, and moving it slowly to elasticity. She didn’t hear him come in, but if she was being honest, her reaction may have been similar if she had. She was frustrated, and couldn’t take everything out on the bread.

She was startled by a slight tickle on the back of her exposed neck, and instinctively threw her head back to strike whatever had landed there. A yelp, then a curse, and she turned to find Natakas kneeling in the dirt behind her.

“I was just kissing your neck!” he said, holding his nose. It wasn’t bleeding, so must not be broken, but it must have hurt.

“Don’t surprise me like that!” she said angrily. She turned back to the dough, and placed it in a clay pot for baking.

“Really?” Natakas replied, anger entering his voice. “You headbutt me, and think it’s my fault?”

“No,” Kassandra said quietly, still handling the dough. She used the bread as an excuse to try and check her temper before turning. Once there was nothing more to do for the loaf, her eyes turned to find Natakas looking cranky and expectant behind her.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “But you truly shouldn’t have snuck up on me.”

“I didn’t think such a thing was possible,” he replied. “And any apology which ends with ‘but’ doesn’t count.” His eyes were no longer angry, but he was still waiting. Kassandra felt her pulse increase in response. She wasn’t in the mood for this, no matter what her fault was.

“I’m sorry,” she said, more forcefully this time.

“I don’t think you are,” Natakas replied, and he turned and left the room to walk into the forest.

Kassandra swore. She was angry at herself, at the situation, at Natakas, at this bread for not being cooked fast enough, at her child for making her joints hurt, at the weather for not providing. She was angry at the world for making this morning worse. She finished putting the loaf in the fire, wiped her hands absent-mindedly on her dress, and went to go and find her husband.

He was sitting on what she termed his ‘thinking rock’, a slab of granite which presided over most of Dyme. It was an imposing position, and one which would be invaluable to protect the town should an army ever descend. He was sitting with his legs crossed, picking grass and throwing it outwards. Kassandra could smell the broken grass in the air, mingled with the salt of the sea. Usually she would have smelt the water from the creek, but as it slowed to a trickle, she hadn’t noticed its smell.

“I’m still cranky with you,” he said without turning.

“I know,” she replied, stopping a couple of metres behind his turned back. “I both overreacted, and blamed the wrong person. I’m sorry.” She took some steps towards him, slowly placing her hands on his shoulders and sitting behind him. “It’s not an excuse, but might be a reason: the pain in my hips is getting worse day by day. I don’t know how much longer I can go on like this, so used to having full control of my body and then not.”

He leant into her hands, resting his cheek on the back of one of them. He then turned to face her, holding her hands in his.

“Do you think it’s time to call for your mother?”

“I don’t know. Ten moons, and we’re up to eight. It takes four weeks to get here from Lakonia, so maybe.”

“You know that you don’t have to feed the whole town, Kassandra? It’s ok for you to step back.”

“I know, I know.”

“And you know that your face is completely covered in flour,” he asked, mischievous tone returning to him.

“I know, I know,” she said. He gently kissed her forehead, and then they stood and walked back to the house together.

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They’d had the first spot of rain in months when Myrinne rode into their garden on Phobos. Kassandra was anticipating her arrival, and was spending most of her days sitting at the front of the house watching the road.

Kassandra was in Myrinne’s arms before she could fully dismount, with mother and daughter rocking from side to side in each other’s embrace.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Kassandra said. “I have so many questions.”

“Aye, I’m glad to be here, lamb.” Myrinne pulled back from her daughter to examine her. “The wisdom is to never tell a pregnant woman how close she seems to the end, but from what I can see it would barely be a few weeks away?”

Kassandra nodded, and laughed. “I’ve counted forty-one weeks since he first came to Sparta.”

“Then you’ll be like me, and go beyond what your midwives said you would.”

Kassandra gave an apple to Phobos, and hugged his neck, glad for him to be back with her. She then tied him to the post near the feed bin that she had prepared, and lead her mother inside.

Darius had since returned from his errands, but knowing that Kassandra’s time was close, had relented and paid for the use of a house nearby. He had insisted that Natakas join him and let the women take over, as was the usual practice, but Natakas had refused to leave his wife’s side.

“Where is Natakas?” Myrrine asked, placing her bags on the dining table in the main room. She picked up the eagle carved from olive wood and looked it over, letting the light dance against its wings.

“He’s gone hunting for dinner,” Kassandra replied. She saw her mother holding the eagle and smiled. “Alexios’ gift to us, to the house. He didn’t want to come with you?”

Myrinne shook her head. “Of course he wanted to come, lamb. I forbade him, it’s not his place. But I have gifts from him, and I’m sure you have some for him.”

Kassandra nodded, trying to hide her disappointment. Though she hadn’t specified that she needed her brother here too, she’d hoped that she wouldn’t have needed to mention it. He was the main thing she missed about Sparta, and though their letters to each other were detailed and long, she had felt the absence of him markedly in the last few weeks.

Kassandra was also very aware of how dangerous it was for them, as her body forced her into weakness. The extra protection of her brother was in the back of her mind, for both herself, but also for the child which carried her blood.

Her hands absent-mindedly went to her stomach, as if shielding it. She wished she didn’t have to worry about it, didn’t have to consider it. But the fact of the matter was that she was vulnerable. Skilled fighters though Natakas, Darius and Myrinne were, they were no match for those who hunted them.

“Well, he could have kept Natakas occupied,” Kassandra said.

Myrinne laughed. “I think he’ll be busy enough at your beck and call.”

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Kassandra was strong.

Kassandra was immune to pain.

Kassandra breathed through pain like a ship wading through water.

Kassandra was prepared for this.

Kassandra was completely still, letting the waves travel through her. They’re just surges, in the end. Just surges which start, then alight, leaving her in a better place than when she’d started.

A yell from outside broke her resolve to ignore the pain, and it shot through her like a pike. It clenched at the peak, releasing slowly, but the damage was done.

“I think it’s almost time,” she whispered to her mother. Myrinne, confident in her daughter’s management, was spinning yarn in the corner of the darkened room: combining the ingredients she knew babies liked to be born in: quiet and dark. She put the spindle down, letting the twist in travel along the unspun wool. She moved slowly to Kassandra, currently sitting with her legs crossed on a flax blanket. She was counting as she moved, the seconds accumulating in her thoughts until Kassandra shook with another surge. Forty-five seconds between them. Myrinne kept counting, measuring the length of the contraction. Twenty-five seconds elapsed before Kassandra’s shoulders returned to their spot. Myrinne turned and left the room, finding Natakas on the other side of the door.

“Go and fetch the midwife,” she said in low tones. “And don’t come back with her: this is women’s business.”

Natakas looked Myrinne dead in the eye, measuring her resolve.

“With all due respect, I’ll return with the midwife,” he replied, and he started running down the hill to the village.

Myrinne moved to the fire outside the room, moving water pots into it for boiling. She then returned to Kassandra.

“I don’t think I can do this,” her daughter stammered. “There’s no break. It just keeps coming.”

“When a woman says that she can’t do it any longer, her baby arrives within the hour. Natakas is fetching the midwife, you don’t have long to go, lamb.”

“But I can’t.”

“You can, and you will.”

“I want my husband.”

Myrinne pressed her lips closed, annoyed at how much her children flouted tradition.

“He’s fetching the midwife. Now concentrate.”

The noises Kassandra made could be described akin to singing, with her intonation changing with the feeling within her body. She’d heard the term before: women sing their babies earthside. She was quiet during the breaks, but the breaks were getting less and less as it became more difficult to concentrate.

She eventually let go, forgetting her mindspace and focusing on singing her child to her. She didn’t notice when she changed position, or when the midwife moved her slightly. She didn’t notice words being spoken to her, quietly, in this sacred space. She didn’t notice her body bear down to her singing.

But she did notice the easing of the pressure. She did notice the relief in her bones.

She did notice her son, caught by her and placed instinctively to her chest. She did notice his closed eyes, and his determination to let the world know his grief.

She did notice the blooming of love and hope in her chest, as her body shuddered to a stop, simply to look at every bit of him as closely as she could.

After she had drunk her fill, she looked to Natakas, who was kneeling in front of her. His face was the sun, breaking through beads of rain.

“You did it, Kassandra,” he whispered. He held out a finger and stroked their son’s cheek. “You did it.”

Chapter Text

Dearest Kassandra,

I’m writing because you made me promise not to wake you with an errant thought. I didn’t, but couldn’t get it out of my system, so wrote it down so you’d have it to wake up to.

You know the time, just before dawn, when the mist hangs low in the air and the sky seems a thousand leagues away? When the horizon is a deep blue, promising the clearest day of our dreams? It’s mainly waiting for the sun to rise and the day to bloom, at that time. The world stops and it’s just you, the air you breathe and the dew lining your path.

That’s how I felt before Makedonia; before you stumbled across me. The world wasn’t turning, and I was simply waiting for you to rise before me, bright as the sun.

But now I realise that I was only half right in that instance. I’ve been waiting my whole life for you, but the dawn had only broken once you were my wife, and Elpidios was my son. The joy is indescribable, so I won’t try and describe it: only poets can capture the sublime.

And perhaps we can go for a walk when you wake, through the forest, and show him the feeling of grass and rocks. I think he’ll be a rock collector, when he’s older. We might have to sew pockets into his pants.

All my love,
Natakas.

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My love,

Did you hear the birds keening this morning? They were either searching for something, or had found it and wanted to reach it. Elpidios tried to mimic the noise, but simply earnt curious glances from Eleusis and his fellow carpenters as they walked down the road. The whole town is so enamoured by him, giggling with his whim.

I tried to shush him, but he made the noises louder and louder until I was worried they would wake you. After the night you’d had keeping up with him and his teeth, I thought he owed you at least a few hours of sleep.

And I hope you sleep well, love, for your brother arrives today. Ikaros delivered the letter after I’d woken.

Yours,
Natakas.

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Kassandra,

I’m writing this down so I don’t lose my temper.

I know you didn’t mean it, but you still scared the life out of me. I can’t be the last to know your plans, especially when it involves Elpidios. If you don’t think you owe me an apology for yourself, at least give me one for our son.

You didn’t properly consider the dangers, and neither did Alexios. He’s only six months old and not old enough to not be directly with a carer. He could have really hurt himself.

I know that you know all this, I yelled it at you myself.

So what I want to say is this: you need to have better communication with me. I know it’s easy for you to fall into old habits with your brother, and forget that your life has changed, but you can’t. And if you want to gallivant across the countryside hunting, just wait for me to get back from the village to tell me and I’ll take the care of Elpidios. I know this is the hardest six months you’ve had, and you needed to hunt, but you just left him on the rock. I could hear his cries from the village. I’ve never been so scared in my life, love.

Just ask. That’s all. Just ask rather than assuming.

He’s also not old enough to handle arrows, no matter how dull.

I love you,
Natakas

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Love,

Do you think we should try the cold cloth trick that the midwife told us? His molars are giving him so much grief, it’s like he can’t eat properly. I don’t like the idea of burying the clay pot, but anything to provide him with relief.

Let me know when you wake,
Natakas.

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Dearest,

Did you ever think it would be this difficult? I sure didn’t. Even with your brother providing food and company, having the care of a child who has his mother’s eye for adventure without his father’s eye for danger is making me grey. He refused to let me carry him today, walking all the way to the merchant. His little feet were almost running down the hill. He fell, of course, hence the cuts on his knee that you’ll see. It didn’t seem to hurt him: I think it hurt me more! I can only imagine how difficult it will be with more hearts and minds to look after. All in due time.

He received a bit of cheese from the merchant in his little fist, smiling charmingly at all who passed. It makes me worry, a little. Just because of how memorable he’s become. People pass through and have heard about the little man. I guess him being half Persian doesn’t help, but the talk is making me anxious.

I could see Alexios in him today, too. He stomped his foot, wanting a berry, then when I pointed out to him that one was already in his hand, he stomped again and turned away sheepishly. Then, changeable as the wind, he asked about how to grow berries!

Oh, I can see you stirring as I write, so I can tell you the rest.

Love,
Natakas

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My Natakas,

I know you usually write while I sleep. I can hear you snoring: you shouldn’t have tried to keep up with Alexios last night. I thought that if you woke up to a letter, your head wouldn’t hurt so much.

I’m also writing for my own good. There are things that we’ve shared, but I don’t think we’ve been entirely honest with where we were when we met. I certainly think there are some gaps to fill for you.

Like today is five years since my brother, mother and I returned to Mt Taygetos. It’ll likely be a difficult day for Alexios, which is why I didn’t think either of you drinking last night was a good idea. It doesn’t heal, it dulls. And when the dull wears off, everything shines brighter.

We got him back that day, but I still pinch myself everyday. My thoughts still return to the scars, the fire, the battles, the promises of death. We forced each other into opposition, and lost ourselves. I think that’s why I miss him so much when he isn’t here: we gave a part of ourselves to each other to save ourselves. It’s a loyalty that will never be displaced, never be broken. That’s why I was so scared that day in Sparta, when he revealed you to my father and step brother. I thought it meant that he didn’t approve of you, and you were already on such thin ice with him after Makedonia. He still somehow thinks that he’s angrier at you for that than you are at me. I know you still seethe at it, at how I returned to the stronghold to save you. But I think I loved you even then, and either way, it was the right thing to do.

I don’t think any of us know our fate. Or even if we have them. The stars change year round, the ground lifts and shakes with change, and still our lives continue.

If things were to change, and something were to happen to me, promise me you’ll be happy. Promise me you’ll find happiness beyond me. Promise me you’ll look after our son, teach him to defend himself, teach him to love and laugh and learn. Because we can’t predict the future, love, but I can feel the storm brewing in my heart. A feeling of tension before acting.

Please protect yourself and Elpidios before all others. The rest can take care of themselves: please, please promise me.

I love you,
Kassandra.

Chapter Text

Kassandra was in her usual floating blanket of space: hardly moving, generally content, and forgetful. Her nightmares, which usually refused to abate, were allowing her this time surrounded by warmth. She was slightly aware: she could hear Natakas’ heartbeat, feel his slight beard against her forehead. She wasn’t sure of the time, whether it was sunset or sunrise, and there was an absence she couldn’t quite understand. It was like some type of thing which she usually took care of was now taking care of itself, leaving her to drift between sleep and wakefulness.

Natakas shifted slightly, running his hand up her back and lingering on her shoulder, before dropping into her hair. He twisted it between his fingers, stroking her scalp and lulling her back into sleep.

Then a cry of laughter prodded at her, close enough to a shriek to fully grab her attention. Then whispering: chastisement at the noise. She murmured wordlessly, pulling Natakas closer to her and pulling the lost blanket over them both. She kissed him silently on the part of his chin that she could reach and he moved his hand to her leg, pulling it across him. She wasn’t sure if he was truly awake yet, and either way, he would have to get up soon anyway.

She placed another kiss on his cheek, and rolled out of reach before he could decide to not let her go. His arms felt for her, but finding the space empty, he opened his eyes. Kassandra moved her face to his, whispering through kisses.

“You stay sleeping,” she said.

He nodded, relaxing his shoulders and pulling the blanket tight over him.

Kassandra dressed and moved towards her son’s giggling. She didn’t have to sneak far before finding Elpidios and Alexios standing at the bench with their backs to her. Alexios was stooping slightly, and Elpidios was standing on a stool on his tiptoes, his head still only making it up to his uncle’s elbow. She knew that her brother would have sensed her proximity, as they both did, but he allowed her a small amount of time to watch them.

“There, no not quite so rough, the flour doesn’t like it. Yes, that’s it. Roll it, rather than squashing it.” Alexios’ rumble, so often present in her nightmare from years ago, was gently encouraging the boy in making the day’s bread. Kassandra smiled slightly: her brother so often professed a mild tolerance of children only, but that had changed since he’d come here. His eyes were brighter than she’d ever seen them, and he placed his increasing endurance solely at the feet of the rascal who ran them through the forest.

Elpidios was almost eighteen months old, and could run, hide, and jump. He could also tell his father that he wanted his mother and vice versa, but it was clear that his uncle was his favourite. Alexios had arrived when he was still only a baby, and had set himself up in the village much how the rest of them had. He took contracts, cooked them food, made them furniture. He was as much a part of their lives as Darius.

Of course he was happy to be there, and Kassandra was thrilled to have her brother back. But there was an undercurrent left unsaid, a ghost lurking which Alexios hoped between the four of them, they could vanquish. None of them had heard a peep since Patrai, but none of them were foolish enough to think the threat passed. So Alexios stayed close, Darius stayed close, and Elpidios had them running through the forest chasing after him.

“The flour doesn’t like to be agitated too much, it’ll make the bread tough.”

“Tough,” repeated Elpidios, pushing his fingers into the dough.

“We can decorate that one for you, and it can be just yours, to show you how tough it can be.”

Elpidios squealed at the suggestion.

“Hush, hush,” Alexios whispered. “Your pater is sleeping. Your mater is watching, but we won’t say anything, yet, will we?”

At the mention of Kassandra, Elpidios turned and squealed again, running to his mother.

“Mater tough, tough!” he said, scrambling into her arms.

“Bread’s tough,” she corrected.

Alexios chuckled, and placed the dough into their pans for cooking.

“Thank you for the sleep, and the bread. Don’t you have a contract to do today?”

“Yes,” Alexios replied. “I have to take care of some rogues south of here.”

“Ok,” she said. She snuggled Elpidios to her, smelling his dark hair, a picture of his father. The child had her honeyed skin and long nose, but everything from his eyes to his chin to his hair was Natakas’. “How long do you think it will take?” she asked Alexios.

“I’m not sure, depends on the rogues I guess. I hope to be back tonight.”

“Ok,” she said again. Something in her tone made him stop what he was doing and look up. She was still looking at her son.

“I’m thinking of starting Elpidios with a staff,” she said slowly. She knew to tread carefully here: Alexios was especially cautious of any talk of training children in weaponry. They’d had different experiences of it, after all. Kassandra’s early training was safe, in her home and in her school, with people who loved her and wanted her to be her best for the sake of it. Alexios did not have the benefit of any of these things: he was unsafe, punished for minor mistakes, trained to be a tool and a tool only.

Kassandra trusted him on all things, and would listen to him on this too. But Elpidios had the balance and the strength to begin at least practicing a stance, or a hold, even if it was nothing more.

“Why are you asking me?” he said, probably a little harshly. “You know my views on this.”

“Yes, I do. I’m asking you because I value your opinion and want to know it. And I’ll listen to it, too. But generally it starts, gently, once a child can walk. He’s been able to walk for six months or so. And I thought you could help me. At first it would just be giving him a stick and showing him how to hold it and fixing his feet. That’s all.”

“Can you let me think about it?”

Kassandra let out a relieved breath. She had half expected one of his rare explosions, but realised that her holding the boy was likely one of the reasons he hadn’t lost his temper. She put Elpidios down, whispering at him to go and wake his pater.

When she stood, it was with a soft look.

“I get it. I promise I do. You have to remember that Elpidios will be growing in love and with people who want what’s best for him. But I’m also telling you because I don’t want you to be surprised by it one day.”

He didn’t reply, instead walking away from her and out of the house.

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She was a coward. She knew she was a coward, but it didn’t make it any harder to avoid her brother until he’d returned two days later. He’d freshly washed at his own home before heading to the cottage for dinner, his hair glistening in the setting sun.

“I received this on the road, likely on its way to you,” he announced when he entered the garden. Kassandra was on the grass with Elpidios, and Natakas and Darius were playing a game of strategy upstairs.

“Uncle!” shouted Elpidios, slightly missing the ‘L’ at the end, so the word sounded slightly rounded. He jumped up from his sleepy position and ran to the gate, gesturing to be picked up into a hug.

“Hello little spartan,” said Alexios. He gave the boy the parchment, and directed him to pass it to his mother.

“Alexios,” Kassandra started, then was stopped by a raise of his hand.

“What we talked about before I left can wait. I think that letter’s important.”

Kassandra took it from her son who yelped in delight as he was scooped up from behind by his uncle. She unwrapped it and found Myrrine’s light scrawl.

Lambs,

Stentor is to marry. We’d like to invite you home for Gymnopaedia. All welcome. Please let us know if you’ll be coming.

Love,
Myrrine

“Did you read this before you gave it to me?” Kassandra asked.

“Yes,” Alexios replied, grinning. “I wonder who would marry him?”

“I don’t know many women in Sparta. She’d have to be Spartan, knowing him. He’s twenty-eight, I guess he doesn’t want to pay the fine. Or maybe he loves her, who knows?”

“Who knows,” he repeated. “But I’ve never attended Gymnopaedia. I didn’t think I was allowed.”

“You aren’t, not to most of the events. But some you are, like the dancing.”

“I don’t dance.”

“No, and you don’t have to. You just watch. It’s designed for women to encourage husbands to them. I did it once, years ago - before.” Kassandra paused. Speaking about the time before still felt sacrilege, like she wasn’t thankful everyday for the people she had and the path they’d taken to get here. But sometimes echoes of the past swept through her, reminding her that life was simpler once, while being more complicated.

She would never swap that life for the one she had now, she knew. But the light regret sometimes struck her.

“Do you want to go?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t think I’m after a wife, not that any would take me, not having citizenship.”

“But there’s a certain type of freedom in that,” Kassandra replied. “I mean, I have citizenship and chose a Persian. I think that’s why pater was so upset: I didn’t marry a Spartan and have ten Spartan children. But you can choose, if you wanted to. You could choose a Helot or a Perioikoi or a Messenian. Or you could watch the dancing, court a Spartan, and make her father furious.” Kassandra grinned with a mischievous gleam in her eye. She pushed at Alexios’ shoulder. “C’mon, little brother. It might be fun.”

“It doesn’t sound fun.”

“Then stay here and look after my mint.”

“No, no, I’m still coming. Just not to the dancing.”

“Where are we going?” Natakas called from the other side of the yard, his face glowing with a strategic victory over Darius. Darius, to his credit, looked only mildly grumpy.

“Mater has invited us back to Sparta for Gymnopaedia,” Alexios replied.

“Isn’t that the marriage festival?” Natakas asked.

Alexios choked slightly, and Kassandra knocked him on the back as if he’d been coughing.

“Yes, and no,” Kassandra replied. “Yes, in that it’s where lots of marriages are made. But no, in that it’s not its primary purpose. But Stentor is getting married, so it’s a two birds-one stone situation. I’d like to go.”

“You all go, and they’ll follow you like a hawk and attack on the road,” Darius muttered, just loud enough for them all to hear but low enough for Elpidios to miss the words.

“Then we sail. It’ll be faster anyway. Mater mentioned that everyone would be welcome, Darius.”

He shook his head. “I’ll set up decoys here and maintain them while you’re gone. Someone has to.”

“If that’s what you want,” Natakas said. Kassandra suppressed a sigh. Darius and Myrrine had, to put it lightly, disagreed slightly on how to manage the newborn baby. Myrinne wanted to wash him in wine, Darius wanted to spend all of their savings on a lavish birthday celebration. They’d both agreed that Natakas should be excluded from Kassandra for a period of time, and it was this that had caused them to lose their credibility in the eyes of the parents.

“So when do we leave?” Natakas asked.

“In a week or so,” Kassandra replied. “I’ll send word to Barnabas to meet us to take us south.”

“Great, let’s head to Lakonia then.”

Chapter Text

Entering the bay of Gytheion always gave Kassandra mixed emotions. On one hand, this was home, but on the other, she couldn’t shake the feeling that her every move was watched by virtue of who she was to Sparta. She felt as if she was walking along a great beam, spikes on one side and thorns on the other. She had hoped that sailing in with Natakas and Elpidios would make the journey easier, but it hadn’t eventuated.

She sat at the stern of the ship on the crate which held her most valuable weaponry. She’d sifted through it again, giving instructions for things to be sold, and for others to be cleaned and sharpened. She didn’t know what would face them in Sparta after two years absent, but she wanted to be prepared anyway.

She held her shawl and placed it over her head, positioning it easily over her leathers. She’d had to order a new breastplate: her shape had changed since having her son. Her lower back was broader and her shoulders were thinner. She’d also had to account for Elpidios breastfeeding, which he still demanded almost daily. Her mother had told her that it was normal, that kids needed milk until their siblings took over.

Natakas walked up the stairs, stopping at the top to look at her.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you armoured,” he quipped, smile playing at his lips.

She smiled back. “Well, if my father tries to kill you again, I’ll be able to defend you properly.”

“I don’t doubt it, but I thought you could manage it without your armour.” His eyes turned troubled, and he walked towards her, sitting close enough for their shoulders to touch. “I know you’re nervous, but I really don’t think leathers are necessary. Elpidios has never seen you armoured. Maybe only keep it if it’s needed?”

“You’re right. I am nervous. I’m nervous for you both, I’m nervous for myself, I’m nervous that people won’t recognise our marriage and try something. Gymnopaedia has lots of drinking and lots of impunity. Men have tried things before.”

Natakas looked at her, his eyes serious. “And if they do, as your husband, I have rights to murder them.”

“That’s what I’m worried about. What if they do it specifically to provoke you? You are Persian, some see you as having taken good Spartan stock from them. And Elpidios isn’t Spartan because his father isn’t. What if they take that out on you as well?”

“Let them,” he said. “Kassandra, you’re worrying about things you need not. Your mother, father, and step-brother recognise us. They’re all powerful citizens. I promise you that you have nothing to worry about.” He stroked her hair, sending shivers down her spine. “Now get changed, you don’t need armour today.”

“But-”

“But nothing, my love. I’ll be with you at all times, and if I’m not, your brothers will be. And you’re as formidable with your fists as with your spear.”

“Ok, fine. But I’m keeping a knife.”

“I would expect nothing less.” He took her hand. Alexios and Elpidios were on the bow of the ship with Barnabas, listening to the stories of the deep and laughing at the captain’s telling. Natakas looked at them contentedly. “Do you remember when you told me that Alexios was your home? I didn’t really understand it at the time, but now I do. It’s people. It’s their familiar footfalls and their lives that surround your own.”

Kassandra nodded, and lead him down to her quarters. With everyone else on the top of the ship preparing to dock, she and Natakas had some time to themselves. After all, they’d be staying with Myrrine and Nikolaos once they arrived, and would get no privacy at all.

She stood before him, their faces close enough to feel each other’s breath. He first removed her shawl, taking care to avoid the Medusa head pin that held it in place. Then he moved to her arms, untying each bracer and removing the leather cords from it completely. He placed these in their trunk, ensuring they remained on top if she needed them in a hurry. Such a small action, but Kassandra recognised it for what it was: his assurance that she wouldn’t need them mingled with his recognition at her concern that she might. He turned her by the shoulders, untying her chestplate and lifting it gently over her head. Her white chiton, which lay underneath, was scrunched by her sweat and the seawater that had sprayed her. It clung to her body, revealing her to him as if she wore nothing at all. He then leant down, running his hands over the leather buckles of her calves. He continued to look at her intently as he did so, never breaking eye contact. Once he stood, he ran his hands through her braid, letting the cord fall and bringing her hair down. He ruffled it slightly, moving it from the binds and across her shoulders. This is how he liked her best: unadorned, unassuming, purely herself.

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are Kassandra?” he asked softly, his hands moving to her hips and gently bringing her towards him.

“Everyday,” she replied.

“That’ll never be enough.”

Then he kissed her, and she tasted of salt and hope. His heart bloomed, remembering the first time he kissed her on the very land they were about to disembark on. His heart was full, and not even the Gods could diminish the light that she was to him. She engulfed him incalculably, and he knew his vow to be true: he would never be parted from her for the rest of his days. Should they be short, or long, he would be by her side to the end of them.

She moved him to their bedroll, and he savoured her while he had the time. He was teasing her, he knew, by prolonging their joining. This was his favourite part: when she made tiny little noises in response to the movement of his hands and tongue, and he didn’t like to make this time too short. Once she’d pushed him onto his back, and he’d relented to their shared movements, they were covered in sweat and becoming carelessly noisy. Goosebumps erupted on his skin, the only clear giveaway that he was intolerably close, and he silently cursed his wife for taking the opportunity to pause and prolong him just a little further.

“I guess I deserve that,” he whispered into her ear.

“That you do,” she replied breathlessly.

Then he looked at her in her glory: tussled, sublime, and his. She started moving again, and him with her, until they both couldn’t stand it anymore. A groan from his throat and a yelp from hers occurred simultaneously, causing them both to push their faces into each other’s shoulders to deafen their noises. Panting, and slumped, his arms went over her back, crushing her to him.

They stayed like that for as long as they could, just holding each other before the outside world intruded. Eventually, Natakas rose, picking out a midnight blue chiton with gold embroidery on the skirt and the sleeves for Kassandra to change into. He also fished out her white linen cloak, knowing how much she liked her shoulders covered. She dressed under his gaze, stopping several times to kiss him. When she was done, she was the vision of a Spartan citizen: impenetrable.

--------

“Spar-ta,” said Alexios slowly.

“Spara,” mimicked Elpidios. He was riding in front of his uncle, holding onto the reins of the horse, not knowing that Alexios was doing most of the maneuvering with his knees.

“Spar-ta-ta-ta,” he tried again.

“Spar-ra-ra-ra,” the boy mimicked again.

“Stentor is a dick.”

“Srenror is a dick.”

“Alexios!” Kassandra objected.

“What? It’s better he learns now rather than later.”

“Don’t.”

“Ok, fine. Taygetos. Tay-get-os.”

“Ay-ge-os.”

“Close enough.”

They were almost at the river bounding the city. Flowers and garlands filled the streets, and music was everywhere. People let the horses past without looking at their riders, and this relieved Kassandra. Natakas had insisted on keeping his face uncovered, and she knew why, and agreed with why, but she just wished he’d be more cautious.

Kassandra directed her horse to the north, towards their mother’s house. Though she’d sent word, she didn’t know who would be here. She dismounted, and Alexios passed her Elpidios from the saddle. Natakas stood behind the siblings, know stations where important in this part of the world, even if he didn’t agree with them.

Stentor emerged from the house first, grinning at the party.

“Sister, brother! I’m so glad you came! And this must be Elpidios,” Stentor leant down to ruffle his hair, and the boy shied into his mother’s chest. Kassandra embraced her brother with her free arm.

“It’s good to see you Stentor. Elpidios, this is your uncle Stentor.”

“A dick, a dick!” the boy yelled, making Alexios burst into laughter.

“No, Elpidios. Uncle Stentor is politic,” said Natakas, stepping forward to grasp Stentor’s arm. “I hear congratulations are in order?”

“Yes, yes,” Stentor said, looking at Alexios warily. “You won’t meet her until after, as is the custom, but I think you’ll like her. Come in, Myrrine and pater are at a dinner hosted by the Kings, and won’t be back until well after nightfall. I’ll be staying in the barracks until after, then you’ll be welcome in my home, of course. But tonight you’ll have your old beds back.”

“Thank you, Stentor. What’s her name?” Kassandra asked.

“Zopheras, she’s a beauty and I know you two will get on.”

The party followed Stentor into the house, and sat at the table, seeing it already spread with bread, cheese, and cooked meat.

Kassandra was sure she had heard the name before, but couldn’t quite place it. She had done some errands here after she gained back her citizenship: things that the magistrate had requested of her. It was before she and Brasidas had become involved, and well before Stentor had come back from Boeotia. It was going to annoy her all night, she knew it would.

“How did you meet?” she asked, hoping for clues.

“I oversaw some of her training. Her mother didn’t want her trained in the spear, but she insisted. She was already behind her classmates, so I took her on as a student. It, ah, escalated from there.”

Something was moving in Kassandra’s brain, but it still wasn’t clear to her.

“Why didn’t her mother want her trained in the spear?” Alexios asked, Elpidios sitting on his lap.

“Her brothers died in the war. She didn’t want to welcome any further bloodshed into her house, so banned her daughter from knowing it.”

“Does she have green eyes, long dark hair perchance?” Kassandra probed, sure she knew the woman now.

“Yes, she does,” Stentor laughed. “See, I thought you’d both get along, I didn’t realise that you already knew each other! She never mentioned it.”

“She may not have known that you were my brother,” Kassandra replied quietly.

Inside, she was screaming. It was coming back to her now, the days before she was intending on settling down with Brasidas and before Natakas was even in Hellas. She’d been neither discrete nor particularly choosie with her conquests, and her gut told her that Zopheras fell into this category. Flashes of a footrace, and a horse ride came back to her, culminating in a dinner on the hills overlooking the city.

Kassandra wanted to be sick.

The conversation went on around her, but Alexios poked her arm and gave her a questioning look. She shook her head in response. She’d get over it, she just hoped that she hadn’t screwed this up for Stentor. He seemed genuinely happy, thrilled even. And Spartan marriages were built on mutual trust and understanding: it was assumed that a husband and wife were partners in decisions, partners in finances, partners in bed. It wasn’t just a symbolic thing: their houses had to raise healthy, robust children for the state, especially spartiates like Stentor.

“...she wished she could join us for dinner but her mother wouldn’t let her out for it.”

“That seems harsh, but I’m not used to a lot of Spartan customs,” Natakas said.

“Rest assured, it isn’t the usual practice. Which reminds me,” Stentor ventured hesitantly. “Pater is still mad about the whole affair.” He looked between Kassandra and Natakas. “Myrrine and I have tried to talk him around, but he’s insisting on being, well, proud about it. I’m not sure how to fix it, but maybe you all have some ideas. I’m certain he will love your son, certain. But he may be cold to the rest of you.”

“That’s ok,” said Natakas. “We should probably have tried to do things a little differently.”

“It’s not that, he acknowledges your choice, Kassandra, and your right to make it.” Stentor’s eyes turned to Natakas. “He’s mad that you aren’t Spartan.”

“Well he can hardly change that, can he?” said Alexios, tempering the turmoil behind his voice. He snuggled into Elpidios, and gave the now sleeping boy to his mother.

“No, he can’t. I just wanted to make clear that it doesn’t bother me, and it doesn’t bother your mother. But Nikolaos still has influence with the Kings and the council, as well as other spartiates looking up to him. He could make your time here difficult, and I think maybe you should try to change his thinking if your sailing is to be smooth.”

Alexios threw up his hands in anger, leaving the room. Stentor watched him go with a sadness in his eyes. Kassandra could see that he was trying.

“Thank you, Stentor, truly. I’ll take him fishing and talk it over with him.”

Stentor nodded, and stood. “I’ll take my leave of you. Thank you for coming, it’s nice to have family that you can invite on such an occasion.”

Kassandra smiled, realisation creeping. She’d forgotten that Stentor was adopted by Nikolaos as a talented helot child. Hence his pride. She didn’t know if he could or would invite his blood family, or if he was even allowed to mix with them. That explained why he was at pains to convince Nikolaos to accept Natakas, despite his lack of citizenship.

Kassandra passed Elpidios to Natakas, and followed Stentor into their yard.

“Brother!” she called, and he stopped and turned to her. She hugged him, holding him close. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for accepting him.”

She broke the hug and looked at Stentor. “Of course I’d accept him, Kassandra. He’s your choice.”

She rubbed his shoulder, waved goodbye, and headed back inside.

Chapter Text

“It’s too hot for this,” Alexios grunted, sweat streaming down his face.

“That’s the point,” replied Kassandra. “The heat is meant to train you for days at war.”

“But I’m not going to war.” His teeth were clenched and his temper was rising. “And I don’t know why we’re doing this anyway. I don’t want to get married.”

“You’re doing this because your absence would shame mater. It’s just a ball game, and it doesn’t mean anything outside of you presenting yourself as Spartan.”

“But I don’t want to be Spartan.”

Kassandra eyed him carefully, unsure how he could be so blind. Then she picked up the leather ball from the ground and hurled it at him with the speed of Hermes. He yelped when it made contact with his thigh, and threw it back at her. She dodged it easily, retrieving it from behind a rosemary bush.

“You don’t have to be. You just have to be taken seriously by the other eiren so they leave us alone. They think you’re weak and unworthy, and you’re going to teach them otherwise.” She threw the ball at him again, aiming for his shoulder. He dodged it and returned it to her.

“Or we could just go back to Dyme, where we didn’t have to worry about this,” he muttered.

“We will. But there’s work to do here yet.”

Elpidios’ wailing interrupted them and they both looked to its source. It was coming from the house, and Myrrine’s quiet pleading followed it.

“I better go and check on that,” said Kassandra. “Alexios, you don’t owe Sparta anything. But I hope for Elpidios to be able to have a home here if he chooses to, and this is just about affirming that home.” She clapped him on the back and rubbed his shoulder. “I really appreciate your effort, I do. Just beat the rest of the men in the ball games and maybe our family won’t be such a lost cause.”

Alexios huffed at her, but nodded.

She turned to walk to the house where her mother had been minding her son. Natakas had gone with Stentor to hunt, and Nikolaos was at the barracks, probably cautioning the soldiers about what was at the centre of the festival.

Gymnopaedia started today, a celebration of prowess and a prayer to the gods to deliver Sparta from possible future failures. Their songs would explain it, on the last day. The cultural heart of the city would tell all the tales of battles fought and won, and those that were squandered away. But before that, there would be games, dancing, drinking, and general celebration.

The unmarried women would dance together, in a war formation, to affirm their loyalty and prove their athletic ability.

The unmarried men would then dance, more rigid, more like the phalanx. They needed to show no loyalty to Sparta, but would dance for their commander’s pride and under the watchful eyes of their hopeful partners.

The unmarried men would then play ball games while the women sparred. The days would be hot and long, culminating in nights surrounded by bonfire and sweetened by wine. Only the married could partake in this later part.

Kassandra thought of all this as she walked to the house, and wondered what she would need to partake in.

“Mater!” squealed Elpidios, escaping from his grandmother’s arms and jumping into his mother’s.

“Hello my baby,” she said, lifting him up.

“He’s been a delight, helping me crush the herbs. What’s this one here, Elpidios?” She was holding up a green mush for the boy to smell. He breathed it in, his nose pointed like his father’s. Kassandra felt a sudden yearning to see what features the rest of her children would share with him.

“Mint!” he said, proudly.

“Very good!” Myrrine laughed.

“Go and find your uncle,” Kassandra whispered to the boy, putting his feet on the ground. He raced out of the house yelling.

“Mater, I was just teaching Alexios of the ball-games. I think I have him convinced to play, even just to show Sparta that we’re good for citizenship. Maybe that will help Elpidios if he decides to pursue it.”

“Perhaps,” Myrrine replied. “He has the blood of Leonidas, and would likely be accepted to the agogne when he’s old enough.”

Kassandra nodded, knowing that Natakas would never let his children near the agogne.

“You’ll be expected at the guest house in the morning, now that you’re married. I’ll be joining you, but it’s for married women only. No children and no husbands.”

“What do we do there?” Kassandra asked.

“We weave, we spin, we share our knowledge with the newlyweds, we make our hearths strong through each other.”

“Sounds a bit suffocating.”

Myrrine smiled, and shook her head. “It’s tradition.”

Kassandra nodded, and went upstairs to her bed to change for the evening’s events.

--------

The first night of the festival was to welcome relatives from far away, and celebrate the summer’s heat. Each family provided an offering to the Gods from the hunt, and Stentor held the stag he and Natakas had won that afternoon. The Gods would feast on the smell, and the Spartans would eat the flesh.

Kassandra stood towards the back, with her mother and son, while Nikolaos, Stentor, Alexios, and Natakas presented the stag to the altar. The priest looked at the animal, cut out its heart, and held it over his head while the men cheered. They then retreated back, and let another family make their offering.

Natakas made eye contact with Kassandra and smiled at her. She could just make out his features as he walked from the fires, the sun disappearing into the west. She smiled back, letting her face light with her pride and joy of him. Then he was shoved from behind by an unknown man, and stumbled slightly, disappearing from Kassandra’s view. She made to move towards him, but was held back by Myrrine.

“Stentor already has him, see?” She pointed to where Stentor held Natakas by the forearm, lifting him from the dirt. As the men walked over, Kassandra’s brow deepened.

“What was that?” she said when they reached her.

“Just a bit of dirt,” Natakas said, dusting off his knees.

“I didn’t see who it was,” Alexios said, brushing Natakas’ shoulders down.

“Neither did I,” replied Stentor. “But they’ll meet us properly if they try it again.”

“Quiet,” barked Nikolaos. “It was likely an accident.”

Kassandra looked at him sadly, ensuring that he met her eyes and could feel her disappointment. She’d not yet made it to speaking to him, and she could tell that time was running out.

“Pater, did you want to walk with me to the house? I forgot my wreath.”

He nodded slowly, and they began walking up to their home.

“Kassandra, you know it likely was an accident. No one would challenge him with your brothers there,” he said, a mix of regret and defiance in his voice.

“No,” she replied calmly. “No, I don’t know that. But I did want to talk to you about it.”

They were standing in their garden now, finally free of the flux of people on the street. Kassandra gestured to the stone bench next to their front door, and Nikolaos sat. Kassandra sat on the ground, her legs crossed, feeling for the medallion she kept on her at all times.

“He’s a good man, you know,” she said. “It’s been a few years, and the vows he made you all still stand.”

“I don’t have a problem with your choice, Kassandra.”

“Then why have you been avoiding us since we arrived? You’ve barely met your grandson.”

Nikolaos didn’t answer right away, but instead looked into the valley that he cared for so much.

“I know you don’t feel that you owe Sparta a debt, but I do. I’d hoped that since my children could not participate in her armies, they would have children who would. It’s our way: we have strong families for a strong Sparta.”

Kassandra sighed. “I won Boeotia for Sparta. I won Megaris for Sparta. I unmasked a corrupt king for Sparta. If I ever had a debt, it’s been paid.”

“Our gift to the world is our children, and yours won’t enjoy citizenship. They will have to fight for their heritage, for their ancestral rights. You denied that to them. That’s my problem.” His voice didn’t change its tenor: it remained low and calm throughout the conversation.

“Pater, I know you love Sparta. I do too, in a way. But if you can, I’d like you to release me from the obligations you still hold me to. I’m Spartan, and Elpidios is Spartan, through me. I have given this city so much of my blood, and my children will call it home as I never could. But they need their grandfather to be a part of it. They need you to ensure it.”

Nikolaos let out a ragged breath, and stood. “I don’t think I can forgive your obligation to Sparta, Kassandra.”

Then he turned, and left the garden.

--------

Kassandra didn’t return to the celebrations that night, and Alexios found her sitting where Nikolaos had left her. She was gently stroking Anahita’s face, shoulders slumped.

“He didn’t relent, did he?” Alexios said softly, kneeling down next to her. She had obviously shed tears, but not many by the look of determination in her eyes. The night of celebration was wasted on the petty indifference of men.

“No, he didn’t. He values me as a Spartan over me being happy.”

Alexios sighed in resignation. He helped her to her feet and hugged her. She hugged him to her, so fiercely glad to have him with her through all of this. Of anyone, he was most literate in being disappointed by their father.

Eventually Natakas walked up the hill, and Kassandra reached for him. He passed the sleeping Elpidios to Alexios to put to bed.

“I’m sorry,” Natakas whispered to her. “We can go home, if you want? Tomorrow.”

Kassandra shook her head and steadied her breathing. “We came for Stentor’s marriage, and we’ll stay until its made.”

“Only if you’re sure.”

She nodded, and lead him into the house to her old bed.

--------

During breakfast the following morning, Kassandra and Myrrine lead the others in making flower garlands for their heads and hair. White flowers for Natakas, to contrast with his skin. Dandelions for Elpidios, to show his innocence. Daffodils for Alexios, to soften his face and accentuate the gold flecks in his eyes.

They sang as they worked, old songs and new. Even though the songs were used in sailing and war, their beat was followed by the actions of their hands, each twist of a stem and cut of a branch punctuated by the beat, beat, beat of the words. This was Kassandra’s contented place: in her childhood traditions, forgetting about the storm Sparta was creating for her husband.

This was the morning after Stentor’s marriage should have been made, and as he wasn’t breakfasting with them, they were confident that it had been made successfully. Kassandra and Myrrine would soon head to the guest-house where it would be confirmed to them.

“Come, lamb. We’re going to be late,” Myrrine said, finalising the daisies in Kassandra’s braid. She wore it slightly differently, with it tucked up and into itself, giving the illusion that it was cut short. She wanted to play the part of a Spartan wife, and Spartan wives kept their hair clipped to their ears.

Kassandra nodded, and turned to kiss her husband and son goodbye.

“What will you be doing today?” she whispered, her lips caressing Natakas’ forehead as she did so.

“I’m not sure,” he replied, closing his eyes to her touch.

“We could go and watch the tragedy?” Alexios suggested.

“With Elpidios?” Natakas replied.

“Yep, everyone goes. It’s entertainment for the Helots, so we’d be welcome. Not many spartiates to bother us.”

“Sounds like a grand idea,” Myrrine said. “Come Kassandra, now we will definitely be late.”

“Have fun,” she whispered, kissing him on his mouth. He smiled through it, savouring the moments when time stops, and it is only them.

She joined her mother out on the road, running to catch up.

“He’ll be there when we get back. Everytime you leave each other, it’s like you’ll never see each other again,” Myrrine quipped.

Kassandra laughed, but knew in her heart that one day that may be true. They walked on in silence, greeting people as they passed them. Once at the guest house, they entered the main chamber which was brimming with women of all ages. It was bright, with the sun being shone in with mirrors, and flowers adorned walls and tables. A general hum flowed between the people, punctuated with laughter. Myrrine took her daughter’s hand to guide her through to a table. Kassandra avoided looking at faces as she passed.

“Marta,” said Myrrine, letting go of Kassandra’s hand and embracing a woman with wrinkles about her eyes and a golden half disk around her neck. Her dress was a dark blue, similar in colour to Kassandra’s, but the cut was longer and it was held by golden buttons at the top.

“Myrrine, I’m so glad you could come. And do my eyes deceive me, or is this little Kassandra all grown?” She swept her arms wide, looking at Kassandra through smiling eyes.

“It is,” said Myrrine. “She has a little one of her own now, Elpidios.”

“Wonderful, wonderful! I wonder why the news didn’t reach me, but I guess Nikolaos likes to keep his family affairs from the barracks.”

“That he does,” said Myrrine. “Sit, Kassandra. I’ll go and fetch us some berries.”

Kassandra did as she was bid by her mother, taking a seat on the bench next to a woman her age.

“I told Dorian that Arius needed more work in the spear, not in the staff, but he insisted on it anyway. If he goes to the agnone without proper spearwork, he’ll deserve to be eaten for breakfast.” The woman who was speaking turned in her seat slightly to include Kassandra in the conversation, smiling at her as she did so. Her hair was yellow, and her skin was lighter than most. But her hair cascaded down her back, filled with white and yellow flowers. Kassandra was mildly confused by this, with the rest of the women having their hair either cut or held high. This woman wore hers long and free.

“How long until he enters the agnone?” Kassandra asked.

“A year, so my husband says. But he’s only just come back from Messenia, so doesn’t know just how much work Arius needs. And Arius has to prove his worth to be included, with his polluted blood.”

Kassandra nodded, wanting to steer the conversation away from blood. “My brother told me that the campaign in Messenia is going well?”

“Yes, that’s what Dorian told me as well. It was good for him to be able to return for the festival. This is our daughter’s first year in the dancing. Who’s your brother?”

“Stentor, he’s my step brother, but we treat each other as blood,” Kassandra replied cautiously.

“Oh, Stentor is marrying Zopheras! Or married, I should say. She’s my cousin: I’m Kloe.”

“Kassandra.”

A slight shadow passed over Kloe’s face, but she recovered and smiled. “It’s nice to meet you Kassandra. You’re married?”

“Yes, my husband is at home with our son. He’s not fond of crowds.”

“No, not many people are I think. He should attend the men’s dinners, he’d be welcome.”

“I’m not sure, I’ll certainly mention it to him.”

“Your father can vouch for him. Nikolaos, yes? Ahh, yes, here’s Myrrine.” She turned to greet Kassandra’s mother who had returned with a platter of food. She placed it between them all and gestured to share it.

“I was just telling Kassandra that her husband should attend the men’s dinners. Surely Nikolaos would vouch for him?” Kloe popped a berry into her mouth and smiled warmly.

“I’ll talk to him about it,” Myrrine replied.

“My father doesn’t like my husband, you see. He didn’t feel consulted,” Kassandra said quickly.

Kloe sighed knowingly. “They always think they have a say, but they don’t really. We’re years off yet, but my daughter already has eyes for a few of the boys. Some are adopted Helots, some are not as skilled as they could be, so all are unworthy in my husband’s eyes. The men get over it eventually.”

Kassandra laughed, so unused to such candid conversation. She had only ever been this candid about Sparta and its laws with her brother, and neither of them could be considered loyalists.

“What is it about your husband that he doesn’t like?” Kloe asked.

“He’s not Spartan,” Kassandra said.

Kloe’s eyebrows shot up. “But you married him anyway?” She asked, shocked.

“Yes,” Kassandra replied quietly. “And I’d do it again, everyday.”

Kloe let out a breath, but something in her eyes could be mistaken for hidden knowledge. Her brows creased, and she turned to see if anyone around them was listening.

“The Persian?” she asked in a whisper.

Kassandra nodded. “His name is Natakas.”

“The men, they’ve been talking about the Persian. Talking about disloyalty and lessons.” The urgency of her voice was creeping, her whispers coming out fast, as if the information was a hot knife that she had to hold. “Is he with anyone now?”

“Yes, he’s with my brother.”

“Which brother? Stentor or the other one?”

“Alexios,” Kassandra replied.

“I don’t know if -,” she looked around them again and leaned in closer. “I don’t know if they’re just talk. But they were saying you would be free without your marriage. That it was your right to be free; that Sparta had rights to Spartan children. It could have just been talk. ”

“Where did you hear this,” Kassandra whispered.

“Dorian. But he didn’t know who the Persian was. The men were saying that he was taking what was rightfully Sparta’s.”

Kassandra felt the breath leave her body as Kloe spoke. She knew there was animosity over her marriage, but she didn’t know that the men in power in Sparta had openly and candidly argued against it. She leant back, thinking, but as she did so, the doors of the guest house were thrown open and music filled the air. A procession of women, all heavily adorned with flowers, perfumes, and jewellery were lead into the space. Each had an older woman with her, probably her mother, from what Kassandra could see.

“Kassandra, come on, we have to welcome Zopheras to our family,” Myrrine whispered, grasping at her arms to lift her to her feet. Kassandra couldn’t think clearly, so just followed her mother’s instructions.

They moved to the front of the crowd, Myrrine holding a garland that she had made that morning in both hands. One of the elders was speaking of the Gods and the woman’s rights under marriage. Sparta was at pains to ensure male power only extended so far, with domesticality, and most city decisions being made by women. Once the elder had finished by speaking of the woman’s responsibility to raise healthy Spartans, she called to the receiving women to meet their new family members in the centre of the room. Myrrine and Kassandra moved forwards, towards Zopheras and her mother. Zopheras turned to her mother and hugged her, then turned to Myrrine and Kassandra. As her eyes met Kassandra, they went slightly wide, and Kassandra swore internally. She’d hoped that she wasn’t memorable, but obviously she had been.

“Zopheras,” Myrrine said warmly. “My daughter and I welcome you to our family. We hope to support you, love you, and make your hearth strong.” Zopheras then bowed slightly, and Myrrine placed the flower garland on her head. She then hugged Myrrine, with the older woman stroking her hair maternally. Zopheras then turned to Kassandra and hugged her as well, and after this was complete, returned to their table to sit with them.

She was their family now, and would sit with them at public events from now on.

Kloe hugged her as she arrived, congratulating her and complimenting her various jewellery and flowers.

Once all was settled and the general hum of conversation began again, Zopheras turned to Kassandra.

“I didn’t know,” she whispered.

“I didn’t know until Stentor told me your name,” Kassandra replied. “I’m really sorry.”

Zopheras shook her head. “Don’t be. It wouldn’t have changed anything. I was just a bit surprised when you came up with Myrrine. You obviously didn’t tell Stentor?”

“No, of course not. How would that conversation even go?” Kassandra giggled. “He knows that we knew each other in the past, that’s probably enough.”

“I’m surprised he never mentioned you by name, now that I think about it. He always just referred to his sister. I never probed further, maybe I should have.”

“Well he told me you were a beauty, and he got that right. I’m really glad you both found each other.”

“So am I,” she said. “And now I can run my own house and run my own adventures.”

Kassandra nodded. “You can visit us in Achaia once your settled, it can be adventurous.”

Zopheras laughed, and started talking to another woman about where she’d sourced her dress, speaking happily about how the seamstress had included pouches sewn on the outside so she could carry things without a basket.

Kassandra turned to her mother, her eyes pleading for leave.

“You can go,” Myrrine said. “The official part is over, and most will head home now to prepare their family for the night.”

Kassandra stood up and undertook a quick survey of the room. She stood a full head taller than most of the women here, and some looked at her with ill-ease, like she would suddenly produce a weapon and slay them. She left them to their cheese and bread, and walked home.

Chapter Text

Kassandra woke with warmth on both sides of her. Natakas’ back was flush against hers, his hair tickling the back of her neck. Elpidios was on her other side, sprawled with his arms out of the covers and his hair spreading out from his head like a darkened crown. She reached her hand towards Natakas’ hip, gently trying to wake him so she could escape from the human sandwich that effectively trapped her. She ran her fingers from his lower back to his upper leg, trying to tickle him to move or to wake.

To her surprise, he did neither of these things, but instead tried to slap her hand away like she was an errant spider crawling across his skin.

“Love, please roll over so I can get up,” she whispered, trying to not wake Elpidios. Natakas just murmured back, still deep in slumber. She sighed, resigning herself to be trapped forever.

“Natakas, move,” she said quietly, poking him as she said it. He rolled over, but before Kassandra could claim victory over her sleeping fiend, he rolled towards her and encircled her in his arms, sighing once he was settled: still sleeping.

Her face was two inches from his, and Kassandra, who was not usually a silly person, stuck out her tongue and licked the tip of his nose. He scrunched up his face, and before he could relax back into sleep, she tickled between his collar bones to wake him.

“Natakas, I’m trapped here and you need to move.”

He murmured quietly, and she thought she heard the word ‘no’ escape his lips. But he moved slightly away from her, allowing her the freedom of movement to escape. As she replaced the covers over him, he grasped her hand and stroked it. She lifted his hand and kissed the back of it, before leaving them to the room.

She ventured downstairs, but found no one else awake. They’d be visiting Stentor’s new estate for breakfast before going to watch Alexios in the ball games. She started collecting the food and wine into a basket, busying her hands so they didn’t shake.

What Kloe had told her two days before was taking its toll, and she would be lying if she said she wasn’t frightened. She’d felt fear many times before, and acted in spite of it, but this time she wanted to slink away home to protect her family.

She’d decided to wait until she saw Stentor and spoke to him about it before making any rash decisions about leaving. She did truly love Gymnopaedia, and wanted Elpidios to stay until the songs on the last day.

A shuffle outside the front door caught her attention. It was just after dawn, and people were already on the streets, but this sound was on her front step. The sound continued, and Kassandra looked about the kitchen for a knife. Finding a paring knife, she grabbed it and moved to the door.

“Who’s there?” she called, just loud enough for the person on the other side of the door to hear, but not enough to wake her sleeping family.

She heard liquid slosh, and running from the house. She listened closely for an extra minute or two, but heard nothing else. Holding her knife, she opened the front door.

Red paint covered the front step, with a bowl and brush left abandoned. It looked so similar to blood that she instinctively started looking for an injured person.

Her eyes moved along the lines of the door, and found what the person has intended to leave for her. In large, red writing, the words PERSIAN SCUM adorned their door.

Kassandra didn’t react, in the hope that the person who had committed the act was still watching. She calmly picked up the bowl and threw the remaining paint over the writing, obscuring it completely. Then she picked up the brush and retreated inside.

Once the door was closed, she dropped the brush and bowl and fell to her knees. Silent sobs wracked through her body, shuddering her breathing and trapping her muscles in a perpetual state of tension. She couldn’t let anyone hear, let anyone know what had happened. It would have been so easy for the person to enter their home and hurt them while they slept.

Natakas wasn’t safe here, Elpidios wasn’t safe here. And it wasn’t the order that was chasing them, but her own homeland. She couldn’t protect them, even here in the country of her birth, where she held citizenship, where she was the grand-daughter of a King. She couldn’t make it safe for them. No talking to Stentor, no advocating to her father, no assurances of her mother, would stop the Spartiates from bitterness of her marriage being given to another.

She steadied her breathing, standing up to get a drink of water. She she stood, she looked at her red hands, soaked in paint. She may as well have been looking at her husband and son’s blood.

It was in this moment that Nikolaos ventured into the front room, stopping dead at the sight of her.

“Kassandra!” he said loudly, rough from sleep. He walked to her quickly, turning her hands over and examining her. “Are you injured?”

“No, pater,” she said quietly. “Someone.” She found her speech punctuated in her shock. “Someone painted something on the front door.”

“What?” Nikolaos said, quieter this time. “What are you talking about?”

“The door,” Kassandra repeated, still looking at her hands. “Someone wrote something on the door.”

“What,” he asked slowly and quietly. “What did they write?”

“Did you ask them to do it?” Kassandra said quickly, thinking a little less clearly than she had before.

“Ask them to do what?” her father replied.

She pulled her hands from his and looked up at him. “Did you ask them to write Persian Scum on our front door?”

“What?” Nikolaos said again, angrier this time. He moved around her to the door, and opened it. He shut it again quickly, but stayed on the other side of the room.

“No,” he said. “No I did not, and I can’t believe you would ask me that.”

“But you haven’t said anything against the talk, have you?” she said, getting angrier now. Nikolaos didn’t have the decency to look sheepish, so she continued. “Talk about how I belong to Sparta, and that Natakas is taking me from Sparta’s right to me. Talk about how lessons need to be learnt and paid.”

“Kassandra, I -”

“Talk about how if I lose my marriage, I’ll be free? Like a person who didn’t have a choice in the first place. It’s across the barracks, even the wives speak of it. Do not tell me that you had no knowledge of it, as their commander.”

“I may be their commander, but I’m still your father. They wouldn’t speak of it.”

“Yes, yes they would,” she replied. “Your silence on it is as good as ascent. You will not yield to Sparta. What will it take?”

“I did not know if it.”

“You’re complicit.”

“I’m your father and would never agree with what these men are suggesting.”

“It doesn’t matter if you agree, it matters that you act. And you aren’t acting.”

“How dare you,” he bellowed, his temper flaring. Kassandra was used to Spartan tempers and didn’t yield.

“How dare I? Natakas is both your son-in-law and your guest, and this is how you deign to treat him?”

“I will speak to the men, but don’t expect anything to change. It is Sparta that those men serve, and you’ve denied Sparta her children.”

“What’s next then? The men decide that it’s their job to make me give them to her?”

Nikolaos raised his hand to slap her, forgetting both himself, and Kassandra’s years of combat training. She stopped his wrist with a lightning reaction, collecting herself before she had him on the ground. They both stood there, breathing hard, until she let go of his wrist. She took a step back, and he circled around her to leave the house.

--------

“I didn’t think it was that serious,” said Stentor angrily. Kassandra had been on the receiving end of his anger before, and that was for something that she hadn’t even done. They were sitting at the table at his new estate, their breakfast turned into a long lunch. Myrrine, Zopheras and Elpidios were in the garden, identifying plants and planting seeds. Alexios, Natakas and Kassandra sat with Stentor, trying to figure out what their forward plan would be.

“I wish I’d had the presence of mind to open the door without calling out, then I could have dealt with him then and there,” Kassandra said, bringing her hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose in frustration.

“What, with a paring knife and in your bed clothes? I doubt it,” said Alexios.

Kassandra shot him a glare, but sighed in resignation. “Maybe we should just go home.”

“No, this is Sparta’s problem, and as her army’s commander, I’ll sort it out from the top. I’m sorry that it has gone on this long: I thought it was just banter, not danger. And pater’s reaction was absurd.”

Kassandra looked at him, having never heard a bad word about Nikolaos from his mouth. Perhaps he was growing up, after all.

“Thank you, Stentor. I think we’ll avoid the night-fires at least.”

He nodded in response. “I think it’s best if you stay away from the drinking. And if you’ll feel safer here, we will open our home to you.”

Kassandra gave a small laugh. “Thank you, Stentor, truly, but having been a newlywed myself, I think I’ll leave you and Zopheras to your house, especially during the festival.”

He smiled mischievously. “All the same.”

--------

Natakas and Kassandra walked back to the house alone, having parted from the others who wanted to watch Alexios in the ball games. After this morning, Kassandra wasn’t in the mood, so they’d paired off. Alexios wasn’t happy that his sister wouldn’t be watching him as he beat the smug smiles of the Spartiates’ faces, but was buoyed by Zopheras offering to tag along and look after Elpidios so the boy could watch.

It was mid afternoon, and the bonfires were starting to be lit. Kassandra held her husband’s hand as the acrid smell reached her. It was mixed slightly with the smell of cooking meat, and she held mild regret for their agreement to not attend the night’s festivities.

“We could walk up the hill and watch the sun set? I’ve heard it’s very romantic,” Natakas said.

“We could do that. But there’s no one currently at home, though, and I know how much you like to yelp.”

“That’s not fair, and you know it. C’mon, I want to watch it over the mountains.”

He pulled her hand to walk south west, and they avoided the paths, following the creeks upstream. They were breathing hard by the time they came to a summit high enough to watch the sun lower, and Kassandra settled her head in Natakas’ lap.

“You can’t even see it from there,” he exclaimed, moving the hair away from her forehead.

“My view is just fine, thank you,” she replied, looking up at him. “And besides, I’ve seen plenty of Spartan sunsets, but almost no views of you enjoying Spartan sunsets.”

He laughed, and rubbed the outsides of her ears while looking at the view.

“This country reminds me of Thrace,” he said quietly. “We were there for years, it’s where I first received your Anahita medallion. I was a teenager, and Neema was still alive then. You would have loved her so much: she was a strong fighter but used to rescue baby birds that had fallen from their nests when my father just wanted to eat them.”

“I’m sorry to have never met her. I don’t even know how I would describe Alexios if you’d never met him.”

“You’re lucky to have him, to have all of them. I’ve thought of father every day since we’ve been gone, I don’t know what I’ll do when he dies.”

Kassandra reached up and stroked his face, moving her hand down his cheek.

“I don’t think anyone knows what they’ll do, but they do it anyway,” she replied.

He smiled at her, and continued to stroke her hair as the sun went down. As with each daily transition, the birds ceased their keening and the bugs landed on their night-time branches. The quiet extended across the land, and Kassandra was reminded that it was in these moments where life was held. Not when they were running, or arguing, or laughing, but in the quiets in between. She closed her eyes slightly, and let the wind drift over her. It was starting to cool now that the sun was beginning its descent, and the ball game would be over, Alexios victorious or not.

Kassandra could hear vague yelling and rumbling in the distance, and barely questioned it, so wrapped in her soft cocoon of contentment. When the noises increased in volume, rather than size, she began to wonder at it.

“Kassandra,” Natakas whispered fiercely. “We have to go, c’mon.”

He picked her up, and pointed at a vague shape in the distance. The fires had been lit in the city and the drinking had begun. But closer to them, at the bottom of the hill where they stood, was a band of men holding spears and moving in the darkness. They were only a hundred or so metres away, and Natakas reached for her hand and dragged her down the other side of the hill, running.

In the dark, they ran through cleared forests and barren farms, with the group behind them gaining ground as their knowledge of the countryside exceeded that of Kassandra and Natakas’. Natakas’ foot fell into a fox hole, and he stumbled out of Kassandra’s grip, sprawling onto the ground.

“Get up, get up,” she whispered to him urgently, pulling at his arm. He recovered slightly, but was running with a limp.

“Run ahead,” he said to her. “Go and get your brothers.”

“No, I’m not leaving you, they’ll kill you.”

“Kassandra,” he said with stones in his voice. He wasn’t requesting, he was ordering.

“Natakas,” she said, in a tone entirely not her own. It was pleading, and it was desperate.

“Well, well. So the hunt finishes,” said the man at the head of the group. Kassandra stood between the men and Natakas, at her full height. She unsheathed the knife she had kept at her hip since disembarking from the Adrestia. She wouldn’t be at her full ability without her spear or armour, but she could best these men who smelled of drink and had likely been drinking all day. They all wore their army helmets and none were recognisable.

“The hunt has just begun,” Kassandra replied, the steel in her voice covering for the quivering in her heart. She flipped the knife in her hand, inviting the men to try her.

“We have no quarrel with you, Kassandra,” said a man to the left. “But your husband owes our country, and we will consider the debt paid with his blood.”

“You speak for Sparta?” Kassandra asked. “You forget yourself. You speak to the grand-daughter of a King, and the sister of your General. Your heads will rot on pikes if he were to find you here.”

The man on the right laughed. “We’re here to do your husband a favour. Your children from us will be Spartan, like his could never be. No need to thank us, Persian.”

The man advanced, walking towards the right of Kassandra with his eyes on Natakas.

“Another step and you die,” Kassandra said, moving her knife into position, and her stance into defense. The man hesitated only slightly, before continuing his walk. As he reached for Natakas, Kassandra’s knife entered his throat and he shuddered to the ground, blood pouring from the wound.

A yell erupted from the group, and more of them advanced. She dispatched the ones at the front, slicing through them like a scythe personified. As they began to surround her, she whistled, sending Ikaros to get help. Once she’d put four bodies on the ground, she heard blades begin behind her. Some of the men must have reached Natakas, and he was working on them too. She turned to him, and found him both outmatched and already seriously wounded. She was stilled slightly by the sight: her loving, beautiful light was being extinguished in front of her.

“Ok!” She screamed, holding her knife up. “Please don’t hurt him. I surrender, just please leave him be.”

“Kassandra, no.” He said, still in a parry with one of the men. But his shirt was covered in blood, his blood, she knew, and she could see the whiteness of his left arm, limp at his side. A second man used the distraction to disarm him and push him to his knees, holding his hands above his head.

The leader of the men laughed, and grabbed her arm from behind, relieving her of the knife.

“You’ll all die for this,” she said. “Stentor will guarantee it.”

“The General will not know it was us, it could have been anyone from the barracks. Everyone in this city hates your persian and the blood he’s wasting.”

“None of you cared when I was unmarried, only once I was. Why is that?”

“Because you belonged with a Spartan. Most of us made offers that your father refused. But he accepted this man’s offer? No. You belong to Sparta, and your children will too. Now, Persian, would you prefer to die first, or watch?”

Natakas didn’t take his eyes off Kassandra during the exchange, and didn’t stop now. The intensity in his gaze was furious, fury that she’d never seen before. She just needed to delay these men a little longer.

“Then your quarrel is with my father for declining your offers, for they never even reached me. Ask your commander why he said no.”

“He didn’t say no, he ignored them. But we found other wives, eventually. Our wives are being dutiful: enjoying the celebration as you should have been doing. And would be doing, if your husband was a citizen. His blood does not deserve to be mixed with Leonidas’. But your Spartan child could be King.”

“I will never have a Spartan child. For as long as I live, my children will not be Spartan.”

“You already have one child, yes? A mix, undeserving of this city.”

“Don’t you dare mention him,” Natakas bellowed, unable to hold his fury. The man holding him hit him over the head hard, making him go limp. The man let him go and he dropped to the ground like a rag doll.

“No,” Kassandra whispered.

“I guess he didn’t want to watch,” the man behind her said with a laugh.

His laugh was cut short by the distant galloping of horses, and an encroaching light over the hill. The light broke, and the glory of multiple torches lit Kassandra and the men around her.

“Hold, hold,” a man yelled, directing the spears held over the heads of the galloping Spartiates to hold their throw.

The man holding Kassandra let her go, and she stumbled over to Natakas. She felt his chest and his mouth, and found him still breathing. She cried out in visceral relief.

She didn’t acknowledge the happenings around her, but felt the pull of the wind as men ran and horses chased them down. She thought she heard Stentor’s voice, but her concentration focused on Natakas and his wounds. She was very tired of seeing him wounded, any blood on him at all was too much.

She felt her shoulders be squeezed, and her brother’s voice in her ear.

“Kassandra, c’mon. Let’s get you both home.”

She nodded, but wouldn’t get on her horse until Alexios had secured Natakas in front of him. They rode home in silence, with only Ikaros’ overhead screeching to accompany them.

Once home, Kassandra and Alexios moved Natakas to the main downstairs room, setting him up on the spare bedrolls. Elpidios was upstairs asleep, Zopheras with him. Ikaros had found them on their way home, and Alexios recognised the eagle’s urgency. He and Stentor collected some of the latter’s troops, and followed the bird south, hoping that they wouldn’t find carnage.

Kassandra placed a woolen blanket over her husband, and Alexios sat on the floor next to the bedroll. They’d dressed his wounds, and he’d groaned in pain in his sleep, which convinced Kassandra that he would just sleep off the blow to his head.

“What happened?” Alexios finally asked when Kassandra settled down next to him. Her head was in her hands and her head pounded. Alexios started rubbing her back.

“We were just watching the sunset, and they chased us down,” she said quietly. “They talked about giving me … giving me Spartan children. Alexios, they asked Natakas if he wanted to watch. If he wanted to …”

He hushed her then, unprepared to hear much more. His face was creased in anger, and he knew that he and Stentor would be getting little sleep tonight. Their step-brother had coordinated the collecting of the men and had moved them to the prison. He wouldn’t spill their blood during Gymnopaedia, but their blood would be spilt. Both men were furious at the situation, but also at not taking the risk seriously enough.

“I’m sorry Kassandra. We should go home, tomorrow.”

Kassandra nodded, and leant over to place her hand on her husband’s chest, drawing circles onto his skin.

Chapter Text

Kassandra didn’t sleep. She didn’t mark the time. She didn’t notice the sun rise, or the doors open, or any touch of her skin.

All she saw was the continuous rising and falling of Natakas’ chest indicating that he was still with them. His fingers twitched slightly every half hour or so, and a mumble alighted his mouth hourly, but no further change while she sat.

Once the evening had turned to night, and in turn, night turned to day, Alexios, to her eternal gratefulness, took Elpidios to Stentor’s with Zopheras, telling him that his pater was sleeping and his mater was concentrating on one task or another. Alexios promised him play and laughter, especially since uncle Stentor would be out for most of the day. Elpidios giggled, and Zopheras laughed lightly too, thinking Alexios as the loving, but roasting, brother to her new husband, ignorant of the iron edge beneath the words.

But Kassandra just sat. And waited. The day was almost gone when she noticed the signs of active life. Natakas’ breathing became more laboured, more riddled with pain. She knelt on her knees, moving her hands over his forehead, checking his warmth. His eyes flickered open at her touch, but shut again quickly.

“Natakas, my love, you’re ok. We’re in my mother’s house. Everyone is safe and here.” She whispered, hoping he could at least hear her if nothing else.

He groaned slightly, his eyes twisting under their lids as if fighting to open.

“It’s ok, it’s ok,” Kassandra repeated. “We’re safe, we’re safe.”

He shook his head as much as he could, then lapsed back into sleep.

--------

“How is he?” Alexios asked, crouching next to Kassandra’s watch. Night had fallen, and Alexios had already settled Elpidios into his bed.

“He woke up a little earlier, but fell back asleep. That was about an hour ago. How was Elpidios?”

“Fine, he knew something was going on though. He wasn’t as joyful as he usually is. I didn’t see Stentor but Zopheras spoke to him a little. She said she’s never seen him like this before.”

“I have,” Kassandra replied. “When he thought I’d killed Pater, when we met in Boeotia.”

Alexios shook his head. “Not like this, Kassandra. I think he’ll murder every Spartiate in the city for revenge.”

“Maybe he will, and maybe Athens will win.”

Alexios smirked, then rubbed circles into her back. “I can take over here. You need sleep and food.”

Kassandra shook her head. “No,” she said. “I stay.”

“Ok, but I’ll set you up so you can at least lie down.”

“Thank you, Alexios.” She grasped his wrist and looked at him seriously. “For it all, brother. I couldn’t have trusted anyone else to heed Ikaros, except you. You saved us.”

He nodded slightly, then went about the room setting her up a bed. Once she was settled, he sat on the other side of Natakas, wood and carving knife in hand.

“What are you going to make?” Kassandra asked.

“I’m going to wait to see what it calls to be. Everything has potential to be something else. You could say that we’re all only potential.”

“That’s very profound, Alexios.” Kassandra muffled a yawn as she spoke, and placed a hand on Natakas’ arm so she could be alerted to his movements. “You should write it down.”

“What, so some old man in Athens in a hundred years can steal the idea and be famous for it? Not likely.” He looked at her and smiled, but she had already fallen asleep.

--------

Kassandra woke to Elpidios screaming, his feet thumping down the stairs towards her. He ran to her arms, tears streaming down his face and hair caught among his eyes.

“Mater, mater!” he yelled between sobs.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Kassandra was still groggy, but held him to her, stroking his hair and rocking him back and forth. She glanced at his father, and found him still asleep. She then sought Alexios, but found him missing.

Elpidios just howled in response, still caught in the dream.

“Bubby, bubby,” Kassandra soothed. “It’s a dream. You’re safe with us.”

“Pater go ouch,” Elpidios whimpered, burying his face in his mother’s blankets.

“Yes, but pater is sleeping his ouch away. He will wake soon. You can stay here with us, if you’d like.”

The boy nodded slightly, and Kassandra moved the blankets over him and settled him down. Her heart was racing and she knew the effects of the scream would prevent her sleep. Once he dozed, she moved to Natakas to check on him. His breathing was even and he was a little warmer than he had been. She stroked his forehead slightly, and he reacted to her touch by following it. Hopeful, she placed a light kiss on his lips, and found they parted for her. Relief coursed through her, eclipsing the anxiety she felt at her son. He would wake soon.

She stood then, and went searching for her brother. It was well into the evening, with the fires still lit and people still enjoying the festivities. She stepped outside the house, pulling her cloak around her against the cool breeze of night, and watched from afar. She could see dancing, she could see people sitting in conversation, but she couldn’t hear the singing. Its absence surprised her.

She ventured out further, to the edge of their garden. A girl passed by, flowers in her hair and the red touch of wine in her cheeks.

“Good night?” Kassandra asked her.

The girl smiled at her, the wine making it easy for her to speak to the stranger. “Could have been better. The General forbade the men from the day.”

“What? All of them?” Kassandra asked, surprise in her voice.

The girl nodded. “All of them. Both married and unmarried. Apparently there was an incident last night where some men tried to take a married woman. The General locked them all in the barracks.”

“What do the rumours say will happen to them? The men?”

“I don’t know, but I heard talk that their wives are angrier than the General himself. He wanted the heads of the men accused, but the Kings forbade him from acting until the end of the festival. He apparently has a family connection to the woman: his cousin, or sister, or somesuch.”

Kassandra furrowed her brows. Stentor wouldn’t go against his King’s wishes, even for this.

“What do the wives say?” Kassandra ventured. She’d been left in the house partly to look after Natakas, partly to recover, partly because she didn’t want to incite an angry mob against herself.

The girl smiled conspiratorially. “They want to cut off a different kind of head.” The girl then laughed at the joke, throwing her head high. “What do you think will happen?”

Kassandra sighed. “I know what I hope to happen, I hope they leave the woman alone at least.”

“I think that’s likely. I wouldn’t be surprised if we heard of blood tomorrow morning.”

“What? The General going against the Kings?”

“For his family? Have you met the General? He was such a catch, newly wed I heard.” She tutted in disappointment, though Kassandra thought her probably too young to marry, anyway. “There are rumours that he’s gone against the Kings before, years ago. He was told to abandon his father as a traitor, but refused, telling them that his father was likely dead, rather than a traitor. He even told them of a fictional misthios that likely killed him. It was a lie, of course, for Nikolaos still walks, but it saved his father from the death of a traitor when he returned to Sparta. So yes, I think he would go against the kings for his family. I wish I could find such loyalty in a man.” She sighed longingly.

“I hope you do, someday. Maybe don’t limit yourself to men, though, women are much more loyal.”

“You’re right of course.” She smiled wide at Kassandra, looking from her face to her body.

It was at that moment that Elpidios cried out, and both their faces turned to the house. “That’s my child,” Kassandra confirmed. “Thank you for the rumours, I hope the morning doesn’t bring much bloodshed.”

The girl nodded, her shoulders slumped in disappointment.

Kassandra returned to the house, and pulled Elpidios into her lap. She sang to him, rocking him to the beat of the song. Once he was lulled back to sleep, she replaced him in the blankets and sat up to think.

She would never have considered Stentor anything other than Spartan. To a fault, like their father. She hadn’t ever thought of how Nikolaos was able to return to Sparta after his desertion, just accepting that Sparta made way for its heroes. But though her pater was now accepted, it had been years since Megaris, and rifts healed. Now she considered that perhaps Stentor, though being the decorated General for the city he loved, was also the lost boy who was accepted by a man wounded by loss: that his loyalty was neither fathomless nor bottomless.

Kassandra sighed slightly, rubbing her hands over her face. If she’d have known that this trouble was waiting for them, she may not have come. But then she thought of Stentor and his joy of sharing his marriage with his family. And she was his family, after all. He might prioritise Nikolaos among them, just as Kassandra prioritised Alexios, but they were a unit, mostly. They’d been through too much to be anything else.

She glanced to Natakas, and found his eyes slightly open, watching her. She smiled wide, the conversation with the girl forgotten as she clambered over to him on her hands and knees.

“I was so scared,” she whispered into his hair and she hugged him as tight as his injuries would allow.

His eyes were wet with tears, and she brushed them away with her thumbs. “I’m so sorry, Kassandra,” he said hoarsely, pushing out the words too loudly.

She just shook her head, and laughed a little. Tears were streaming for them both now as they clung to each other, joy ringing through their bodies as surely as their blood.

“What happened?” he asked finally, attempting to sit up.

“Alexios and Stentor,” she said quietly. “Ikaros found them, and they came for us. I haven’t seen Stentor since, but Alexios was here earlier.”

Natakas nodded, unable to voice his question.

“I’m ok, Natakas. I promise. My brothers came.”

He nodded again, kissing her hands as he did so. He looked at the bedroll next to his, and touched Elpidios’ forehead lightly, pushing hair out of his eyes.

“He knows more than we give him credit for, I think,” Kassandra whispered. “Alexios had him for the day and said he was morose.”

Natakas’ eyes glanced towards her in question.

“Today. It happened yesterday. You’ve been asleep since yesterday.”

“Have I?” he asked quietly.

“Yes. I was worried that you wouldn’t come back to me.” Tears began for her again, dripping off the bottom of her chin before she could catch them.

“Don’t think of it, Kassandra. Even though it’s unknown, don’t think of it. My soul could not be parted from you if it tried, I’ll be with you, always.”

She nodded, and rested her hand on his arm, feeling the solid muscle beneath it. It steadied her, reminding her that he was here, he was solid, and he was strong.

“If it’s been a day, what have been the consequences?” Natakas asked.

She sighed, trying to recall the conversation she had with the girl.

“Zopheras said she’s never seen Stentor so angry. I’ve not seen him, or my father or mother. I’ve only seen Alexios, and that was just when he brought Elpidios back from Stentor’s. A girl I spoke to said that all the men, married and unmarried, have been locked in the barracks and been barred from the festival. I know Stentor chased and identified many of them, they’re separate from the rest. The Kings forbade him from executing them until after the festival.”

“I’m your husband, I suppose it’s my job?”

Kassandra shook her head. “This is a crime against Sparta. I know other places in Hellas view women as their husband’s property, but here we don’t. It was a crime against Sparta, against the society. So Sparta will punish them: whether it’s their General or their Kings, Sparta will see it dealt with.”

He nodded again. “I need to speak to your brothers, I think. In the morning.”

“Yes, I think that’s a good idea. You should know too that Elpidios is having a hard night, and him seeing you well in the morning will probably do him wonders. He knows more than we give him credit for.”

She stood up, extracting her hands from him, despite his protests. She moved towards the food left over, bringing him bread and meat. Once he was eating, she lay down next to Elpidios, letting her hands lay on the boy.

“The songs are tomorrow, it’s the last day. We can stay for them, or we can leave. I wanted Elpidios to listen to them, but we can be on the Adrestia by day-break if you’d prefer.”

Natakas put the finished plate to one side, and lay back down. “We’ll stay, and leave as scheduled. Especially if your brother is managing things for you.”

Kassandra nodded, and reached for his hand. They then fell asleep there, hands clasped together, surrounding their son. Their little family was simple, as leaves on a tree: if one were to blow away, they all would follow.

Chapter Text

Nike, who follows her family to battle and harm, blesses the victors and spreads the spoils.

Nike, who fames her control and power, strikes down her foes and heeds none.

Nike, who’s reckoning springs forth, spreads the field with the blood of men who dared to think her one of them.

Dawn woke Kassandra, the dim light shining through the shutters. Her son was sleeping next to her, not having woken up again in the night, and her husband was rolled onto his side towards her. All was quiet.
Too quiet, especially for the final day of Gymnopaedia. Kassandra sniffed the air, smelling sweat, curdled goats milk, and the acrid smell of fire.

The fires wouldn’t have been extinguished from last night, as many wouldn’t have returned to their houses, ready for the songs of the last day.

She probed her senses, feeling for her brother. She found him, probably upstairs, and a tension relaxed from her shoulders. When she’d woken last night and found him missing, she didn’t realise the load it placed on her. With everything, with all the problems that they’d had, something happening to Alexios would be a final straw for her. Her stress levels could barely take the thought, let alone the actualisation.

Footsteps thundered past the front door, sending Elpidios shuddering in his sleep. It was so quiet that she’d forgotten that people were outside at all. Kassandra shushed him lightly before he could cry out, rubbing his chest to lull him back to sleep. She then heard movement upstairs, her brother’s footsteps against the wood of the floor. She extracted herself from her blankets, covering her son back up. Natakas’ hand moved toward her, and she captured it with her fingers, kissing his knuckles. She let him fall back into sleep.

She walked upstairs, glancing into hers and Alexios’ old shared room. Some of her things were still littered around the room: old dolls, writings, blankets.

“Alexios,” Kassandra ventured, knocking slightly on the open door. As she suspected, he was already up, sitting on the bench near the window. He looked fiercely into her eyes, and she was surprised to see him strapping bracers to his wrists, the shawl she’d bought for him years ago hanging on his shoulders.

“What’s going on?” she almost yelled. He stood up quickly, but didn’t answer. He walked over to her and hugged her tight, the buttons on his armour digging into her shoulders. “Alexios, if you don’t tell me what’s going on right now, I’m going to lose my temper.”

“Last night, there was trouble. Pater, he ... “

“He what, Alexios?”

“He’s in the prison. The Kings decide his fate today. That’s where I’m going.”

“Wha-?”

“Kassandra, we don’t have time. But you should come with me, I have only a little more information than you do.”

Kassandra nodded, and moved to her and Natakas’ trunk. It had become jumbled in the two weeks they’d been here, but she found her armour where he’d packed it. She moved to put it on, Alexios helping her to make the process quick.

“When we first moved to Dyme, I never wanted to wear these again,” she said quietly as he quickly laced up her bracers.

“If you thought that was true, you wouldn’t have ordered a new one after Elpidios was born.”

“I guess I’m sick of being the solution to other people’s problems.”

“I get that.”

“You called him pater.”

Alexios wasn’t looking at her, but she saw his eyes glisten slightly in pain.

“After his actions, he deserves it.”

“Please tell me what happened.”

He looked up to her face, her hands in his, squeezing slightly. “He murdered the men who chased you down, against the direct order of the kings. He killed them in their cells, unarmed.”

Kassandra’s body stilled, gasping, as she looked at her brother, taking in her father’s act. A man of Sparta, a citizen, a commander, going against its Kings? It didn’t make sense. Her father let Alexios be thrown from a cliff at the word of Sparta’s oracle, and let Kassandra follow him at the words of the elders. He was Spartan first, and a father second: always.

“Why?” she whispered.

Alexios was shivering. “I don’t know, I don’t know. Maybe it frightened him, the capability of his country to destroy his family again.”

“But he’ll be executed for this.”

He nodded. “Stentor’s the only thing standing between him and a spear. We have to move quickly.”

She nodded, placing her matching shawl over her head. She sheathed her spear to her back, but carried no other weapons. Alexios put his sword to his hip and his bow to his back. They made their way downstairs, Kassandra indicating for him to wait for her outside while she woke Natakas.

“Love,” she whispered, stroking his hair. His eyes flickered open, and widened upon seeing her armoured.

“Kassandra,” he said groggily.

“Shh, there’s trouble. Alexios and I will see to it. Stay here and bar the door behind us, opening only for my family, ok?”

His brow furrowed as she spoke, becoming increasingly worried with each word from her mouth.

“Kassandra ...” he said, drawing the word out in warning. “Please don’t do anything rash.”

“I won’t. I promise. I love you.”

She met her brother outside, and they made their way to the prison.

--------

The city was deserted. Only branches rattled, with shutters closed and the ghostly howl of the wind traversing the open alleyways of the agora. Kassandra and Alexios moved quietly, but openly, hard to miss and easy to follow.

“I smell blood,” Kassandra said, her nose lifting at the metallic scent as they rounded the corner to the prison.

Alexios nodded, making his footfalls heavier to ensure they wouldn’t take anyone by surprise. They found guards on the outer door to the block, with it locked tight.

“There’s a curfew, even for you,” one of the guards said. He was Krypteia by the look of him, broad in the back with sinew lining his bare shoulders. Strong, probably the strongest in his agnone.

Kassandra put up her arms to temper him. “Please, we just want to see our pater. Just for a few moments.”

“He’s not to receive anyone, not even the General. Now leave.”

Kassandra sighed, but nodded, backing away from the men and pulling Alexios back as she did so. She pushed him around the corner, out of sight of the guards.

“How’s your climbing?” she whispered, testing the walls of the prison for footholds.

“It’s adequate,” he replied, moving his sword to his back so it didn’t clang on the stone and alert the guards. “But I thought my sneaking days were behind me.”

“So did I, brother. So did I.”

She sent Ikaros up to double check the entrances and the guard presence. His light keen told her that the guards at the entrance were the only ones, which she guessed was because of the curfew.

She started climbing, Alexios after her. Once they’d scaled the building, they dropped into the skylight in the centre chamber, landing on the beams which held the gates to the cells closed. Kassandra looked around, checking for a quick getaway route should they need it. While she checked, Alexios scouted the cells for Nikolaos and to see if there were any other prisoners being held.

“They’re all empty except for him,” he said in a low tone, pointing at the cell on the far wall. The smell of blood was overwhelming, but improved as they moved towards their father’s cell.

Kassandra dropped down first, in the far edge of the cell. Her father was seated on the bed roll, his eyes closed and his fists clenched next to him. A water bowl was upturned in front of him, and hay littered the cell. There was no blood here, but his hands were flaked with the dried blood of the men he’d killed. Kassandra wondered whether it was fury or pride that sought him to act, pushing him over the edge.

“Pater,” Kassandra whispered, moving towards him. His eyes shot open as Alexios dropped into the cell.

“Kassandra, Alexios,” he whispered back, unbelieving. “Are you really here?”

“Yes, pater.” Kassandra knelt down in front of him, taking his bloodied hands in hers. “What happened?”

Nikolaos closed his eyes, tipping his head back in memory.

“I couldn’t let them live, Kassandra. Not after what they tried.”

“Stentor was managing it, they were to be executed anyway, tomorrow” Alexios whispered, sitting next to Nikolaos on the bed roll.

Nikolaos shook his head, and moved one of his hands from Kassandra’s grasp to place it on the back of Alexios’ neck.

“Stentor does not have the upper hand with the Kings, another of my sins. He used his last good will with them to allow me home. Foolish boy.” He tutted slightly, shaking his head. “This was mine to bear. They were my men. You’re my daughter.”

“Was it worth your life?” Kassandra asked, looking down at his hand.

“It is worth everything. Family is worth everything. I’d cowed to Sparta before, and I vowed never to do it again. I won’t let Stentor lose his position for this, just as I won’t let either of you suffer further for Sparta. She has wronged you both. She was going to let those men live because of her war with Athens. I couldn’t let it happen.”

“But pater, we could have just left, and they wouldn’t have bothered us again,” Kassandra whispered, tears coming into her eyes.

He shook his head lightly. “It would never end. It doesn’t matter now, it’s done.”

“Though your loyalty has shifted, your pride is still your most annoying trait,” Alexios whispered.

Nikolaos laughed quietly, rubbing Alexios’ neck.

“I didn’t ask you to do it. I didn’t want you to do it. Natakas and I both lived, we’re both intact.” Kassandra’s speech was quick, knowing their time here was limited.

“My children are my greatest pride, all three of you have brought me such joy. Sparta thought my loyalty to her was unlimited, but I am not her creature, in the end. I slayed her prisoners against her Kings’ wishes, and I would do it again. And again, and again. I’m sorry Kassandra, for what I said earlier. I was wrong: you owe nothing to the Sparta that would ignore your pain to further her wars. And neither do you, Alexios, neither does Elpidios.”

“This is my fault. We should have been more careful, more vigilant,” Alexios said.

“No, no, my boy. The only fault here is Sparta. But who knows, maybe they’ll take pity on an old man who used to command armies to victory. Nike guide me.”

A shout from outside the cell made them all look up.

“You must go,” said Nikolaos, standing and ushering them to the back of the cell.

“Will there be a trial?” Alexios asked quickly.

Nikolaos shook his head. “Only your brother can help me now.”

Kassandra threw her arms around him, tears straying into his hair. “I’m so sorry, pater. I’m sorry.” He kissed her hands gently, then turned to Alexios and brought their foreheads together. They stood in that embrace until movement came from the courtyard. Alexios pushed Kassandra’s foot up to allow her to climb to the upper beam, with her pulling him up after her. They moved towards the skylight, but hesitated before leaving the building.

They could still see their pater, unmoved and unmoving. He stood with his front to the door, waiting. He looked so small from their vantage point, neither the man that threw them from the cliff, nor the one that they’d known since. He was their father, in the end, and his actions had shaped them both to be who they were, for better and worse. Kassandra grasped Alexios’ hand, squeezing it so tightly that it went white.They were going to lose their father today, and there wasn’t a thing they could do about it. This wasn’t a problem that they could slice, or persuade. All that stood between Nikolaos and the spear was Stentor.

“Let’s go and find our brother,” Alexios whispered, sending one last look to Nikolaos, as they lifted themselves up and through the skylight.

--------

Zopheras ushered them through the door without them knocking.

“I was watching the road,” she said. “We’ve had some other visitors that I haven’t let in.”

“Where’s Stentor,” Alexios asked, placing his bow and sword next to the dining table.

Zopheras pointed upstairs, and gestured for them to follow her.

Stentor was in a basic grey chiton, his hair dishevelled and eyes glazed. He sat with papers in front of him, sifting through them.

“Stentor,” Kassandra said, sitting down in front of him. Her armour chaffed her slightly, her skin pink from rubbing. “We’ve been to see pater.”

“How?” He asked, then looked at Kassandra and Alexios fully, assessing their armour. “Oh, back in your roles are you. Misthios, changing history one sword swipe at a time.”

“Brother, tell us what we can do to spare him.” Kassandra’s voice was harsh, trying to bring Stentor back into the room in order to find a solution.

“Nothing, there’s nothing. The old fool has signed his own warrant,” he coughed slightly, releasing the choke of emotion from his throat. “He’s signed his death warrant.”

“There must be something,” Alexios said, touching the papers slightly. “Banishment, ostracism, stripping him of titles, labour. Something other than his head.”

Stentor looked at Alexios’ hands touching the documents, and snatched them away from him.

“Why do you care anyway? Isn’t this what you wanted? You’ve wanted him dead for years!” Stentor’s face was red from the outburst. Alexios, to his credit, didn’t shy away, but instead placed his hand on Stentor’s shoulder.

“We must move quickly. Why do the Kings want his head?”

Stentor sighed in resignation. “Because he killed those men against their wishes.”

“So, is it because pater is flouting their authority?” Alexios asked. “Because he may symbolise a call to power?”

Stentor rubbed his face. “Probably the former, maybe the latter.”

“In the days after Pausanias, Archidamos asked me directly if I sought the crown, so I wouldn’t wholly discount the second one,” Kassandra said.

“He likely asked you because Alexios wasn’t in Sparta yet,” Stentor grumbled. “Pausanias was your cousin, after all. I think Archidamos wanted to avoid bringing his father back from his banishment.”

“Wait.”

“What?”

Kassandra and Alexios spoke at the same time, eyes lit towards Stentor. He rubbed his forehead in exasperation.

“Myrrine never told you? Perhaps it was the family shame. Pleistoanax, our current King with Archidamos, is Myrrine’s brother. Pleistoanax was banished years ago for accepting a bribe from Persia, and his son was installed. Since Pausanias’ corruption, Pleistoanax was restored as King. That’s where your mother has been since last night, trying to convince her brother to spare her husband.”

Alexios looked at Kassandra, shock emanating from him. Kassandra returned the look, but then focused her attention back to Stentor.

“Wouldn’t Pleistoanax favour banishment, then, having been banished himself?” she asked.

Stentor shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“If they want punishment for going against the Kings, it’s manageable with losing lands, or titles,” Alexios said. “If they think he wants the crown, banishment may suffice.”

Stentor shook his head slightly. “Unbelievable,” he said. “Where did you two come from?”

“What do you mean?” Kassandra asked.

“This morning I was without hope of saving pater and unable to see him at all. Now you both come here and tell me not only that you have breached the prison, but that there is a chance we could save him. Unbelievable.”

“We haven’t done it yet,” Alexios said, standing. “We’ll come with you, but will leave most of the talking to you. Speak of his achievements and sacrifices, give it a personal touch. Extol your own virtues too, and how valuable you are as both his son and their General.”

Stentor stood up too, reaching for them both. His hands went to one of their shoulders each, bracing them. “Thank you, both. Wait for me downstairs, I won’t be long.”

--------

The streets were still deserted as they rode to the throne room, the three of them making a picture of familial solidarity with their coordinated red cloaks. Kassandra knew they must touch lightly, sing the praises of what they’d done for Sparta. Though Kassandra and Stentor had documented battles fought and won, Alexios had comparatively less. Though he joked that he could possibly take credit for the plague which brought Athens to its knees, Kassandra’s dissenting grumble made him stop. Images of Phoibe raced through her head, and she wanted it clear for their audience with the Kings.

Kassandra knew of Archidamos’ character, but nothing of her uncle’s. Would he be still needing to prove himself a Spartan, having returned from disgrace? Would he use Nikolaos as an example to uphold?

Or would his temper go the other way: to uphold Nikolaos’ actions as an aggrieved father and Kassandra’s torment as unacceptable in Sparta. Gorgo was his mother, after all.

Stentor walked in first, with the other two being three steps behind him, Kassandra on his right, and Alexios on his left.

The kings were sitting in their seats, looking like stone slowly seeping into the mountainside.

“General,” drawled Archidamos, decidedly not standing for them.

“My Kings,” Stentor replied with a bow. “King Pleistoanax, may I please present my step-brother Alexios, and my step-sister Kassandra. Your kin: children of Myrrine.”

Pleistoanax looked at them hungrily, looking between their faces like the ticking of a clock.

“You both have the look of your mother, who has been keening at me for hours about her outlaw husband. Are you here to do the same? Step forward.”

They did as they were asked, kneeling at the front of the throne. Kassandra silently screamed at Alexios to keep his words to himself.

“Rise. Tell me why I should spare your father.”

Kassandra glanced at Stentor and saw the anger in him. They’d rehearsed this, but perhaps this was a part of the play. Perhaps this new King was not as fond of his General as the old one had been.

So Kassandra spoke.

“My pater went against your wishes. He took the task of fatherhood to its extreme, placing my honour and value above that of the men he killed. I’m a married woman, recognised by my family, with a child. The men who chased me sought to put me with child against my wishes, against the wishes of my family. Does Sparta want such sons? Or has my father perhaps done this city, that he loves so much, a favour, by ridding it of them?”

Pleistoanax laughed, a great booming laugh that filled the room.

“I think your mother made me that exact speech. Tell us, what would you have us do to him? Give him greater titles for his heroic deeds? Give him fresh land and many helots for defying his Kings?”

“No,” Kassandra said simply. “He should be punished for defying you. But do not take his life. Take his title, take his position, take his citizenship.”

The Kings both stared her down, and it took all of her willpower to not jut out her chin in defiance. She could feel Stentor seething behind her, and Alexios remained still next to her. The moment of silence dragged on, and Kassandra could see the cogs turning in the King’s head. She noted how Archidamos remained silent, letting his counterpart take the lead. Perhaps it was a recognition of kinship, or perhaps it was a test for the relatively new king. Kassandra had never been more grateful that the throne had not befallen her than in that moment.

“We will reduce him to a Perioekio. He will work his farm and ply his trade, but he will never again be Spartan. We can not show the populace that they can defy us, but we also acknowledge that the men he killed were less than Spartan. Now leave us.”

The trio backed out of the throne room, stumbling slightly in their haste. They didn’t want the Kings to reconsider, and sentence death while they still could.

Outside, they acted akin to school children, hugging each other and whooping in their relief.

“I will go and fetch him, and tell him the news,” Stentor said. “I’d like to go alone, if that’s ok.”

Kassandra nodded. It was mid afternoon, and she wanted to return to her husband and son. The songs would not be sung that day, and she wanted to be homeward bound by the next dawn.

“Stentor,” she said before he could leave. “I think you should take him to your estate, bar him inside lest the Kings change their mind once the festival is finished.”

“Yes, I will,” he replied.

Kassandra and Alexios walked back to their house, leading the horses. They found the front door open, and Natakas and Myrrine inside cooking. Natakas was doing most of the work, and Kassandra could see her mother shaking from the yard. Elpidios was playing with a carving of Alexios’ on the floor, hopefully oblivious to what was happening around him.

Phobos whinnied, and Myrrine looked up at them. She dropped what she was holding and ran to them, pulling them both close.

“They’re going to kill him,” she whimpered. “The King told me they couldn’t spare him.”

“Mater, mater, it’s ok,” Alexios said quietly. “Kassandra spoke on his behalf, with Stentor and I there.”

Myrrine looked at Kassandra, hopeful for the first time since the news broke.

“They’re stripping him of his citizenship, that’s all. He’ll live.”

Myrrine cried out, dropping to her knees. Alexios fell with her, unbalanced by the sudden movement.

“He’ll live, he’ll live,” she cried.

Alexios lifted her and brought her inside. Elpidios went to run to Kassandra, but hesitated, looking over her armour. She glanced at Natakas over his head, an apologetic look lighting her eyes.

“It’s ok, bubby,” she said. “Mater is going to change then come back downstairs.”

Natakas followed her up, Elpidios having run to Alexios after he placed his mother down on some cushions.

“Did you need your armour?” Natakas asked, leaning against the doorframe.

“Not really, it was mainly to send a message. I met my uncle, the new king.” She was unlacing her bracers, but her fingers were shaking too much to complete it. Natakas moved to her, and began to do it for her.

“How did you possibly convince him to spare your father?” he asked. “Your mother said she’d been trying all day.”

“I proposed the solution. They thought their hands were tied, but they weren’t.”

Natakas made an assenting noise, and moved to taking off her chestplate.

“When I first came here, after we deposed the corrupt king, Archidamos asked me if I wanted the crown. I thought it was a test of loyalty at the time, but now I think that perhaps my uncle might have agreed to my father’s reprieve as a favour I’d have to repay in the future.”

Natakas was nodding throughout her musings, removing her armour bit by bit.

“Do you know why he was banished in the first place?” Kassandra asked.

Natakas shook his head.

“Because he took a bribe from Persia. That’s where he lived during his banishment.”

Natakas looked at her then, trying to gauge her feelings about this fact.

“Meaning …?” he asked lightly.

“Meaning, a persian child that shares his blood might be his quest. Meaning, we need to get Elpidios out of Sparta.”

“Well,” Natakas said, pulling the last of her leathers out of their buckles. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

Chapter Text

Kassandra didn’t look down to the city as she packed. It was pre-dawn, and quiet, with the braziers lighting the path all the way to Gytheion, and hence, to the Adrestia. Though the stress of the previous day still dragged on her, it was better than the grief she had anticipated.

Her son slept on, oblivious to her organising, his face serene in sleep. He had gained some colour since they’d been here, with the sun being harsher in the south, as well as Sparta being higher in altitude. Before, she could claim his honey skin as from her, but now he looked dark enough to be entirely his father. Though his personality was decidedly Spartan.

Kassandra shuddered slightly. The image of a Spartan Elpidios, glorious in his adulthood and prime in his skill, swept through her mind. His Agiad bloodline calling behind him, with his ancestor’s spear in his hand, commanding the city with an iron will.

Without meaning to, she let out a bark of laughter. Leonidas would be less than thrilled at a Persian on the throne, having lost his life to ensure exactly that did not happen. What would he think of her, she wondered. Would he take the side of the Spartan men her father had slain, and think of Natakas as stealing her from them; or would he acknowledge the choice given to women in their society with regard to matchmaking? Gorgo was his wife, after all, and he was the son of Anaxandridas, who refused to part from his wife though she bore him no children initially. He might consider Kassandra much aligned to him, in spite of her Persian choice.

Elpidios, though, was entitled to Spartan citizenship, should he seek it. All he would need to do would be to assert himself against his father, and enter the agnone at seven years old. Natakas would never allow him, but it would likely be Kassandra’s final say, as the Spartan parent. But she knew what she would say, especially after the events of the last few weeks.

Over her dead body.

She would start him in the staff, at home, where it was safe. He needn’t be a warrior for a city of war, but he should start learning early, as she did. Alexios would have to trust her with it, and if he didn’t, then he could enforce his involvement and manage it himself.

Packing finished, she closed the trunk and sat on top of it. She would wake them soon, her husband and son, but she wanted to savour the smells of the city of her birth, and remind herself why they lived in Dyme, away from it.

This place had proven dangerous for all of them. She was initially worried about Alexios and his position, but after he won the ball game, he’d not been bothered at all by the men. Kassandra had wondered, silently, whether the failure of the men to beat her non-citizen brother at the ball games ignited their temper to chase her and Natakas down. She’d never voiced this to Alexios, but knew that he thought it too. His comments to their pater about it being his fault echoed to her, and she made a mental note to discuss it to its negative.

“Kassandra,” Natakas whispered. She was looking out across the city, bathed in the last of the moonlight, hair out and blown among her ears and shoulders. She turned to him after a moment, bringing her thoughts back through the window beyond.

“Love,” she replied, moving to him. “I’ve finished organising. I wanted to wait until the keening of the birds began, but now that you’re up, we might make a move.”

He nodded, and extracted himself from the bed, leaving their son sleeping.

“Have you spoken to your father yet?” he asked, bringing her into his arms and against his chest. She could hear the ticking of his heart in his neck, and knew that it would be all that she would need to lull her to sleep.

“No,” she murmured, letting the spread of contentment bleed through her.

“Kassandra,” he said, less sure this time. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Always dangerous,” she replied, smile in her voice.

He didn’t rise to it. It must be serious if he was now ignoring her jokes.

“I think we should stay.”

She pulled away from him and let her angry eyes meet his determined ones. She had a flash of remembering, that these were the exact eyes that she first met at the burning village in Makedonia.

“What?” she said breathlessly. “After everything.”

“Just, listen. Have you worried about the Order since we’ve been here? Have you been looking behind your shoulder for carved faces in the dark, or been worried that I wouldn’t return from an errand?”

Kassandra was struck dumb. “Of course I have! Have you been paying attention, at all?”

The anger seemed to transfer from her eyes to his, and his brow furrowed.

“Natakas, yesterday I begged you to bar the door to everyone except my family, and you think you’ll be safe here?”

He looked at Elpidios, and then back at her. “I haven’t worried that either of you will be killed on the street, not once. You’re here, in your city, with your people, so is Elpidios.”

“Natakas! I was almost r-.”

“Kassandra, I know. But I also know that your father and your various brothers will defend you to a fault. And now that you’re known to your King uncle, you will not be harmed here.”

“But you? You’re known as the Persian, you’re a target. Yes, I’ll worry about you coming home everyday.”

“I don’t care about me, I just want you and our son safe, nothing else matters.”

“He won’t be safe! So, what? We stay, Elpidios enters the agnone, becomes a weapon of the state? Gets killed in Boeotia because his neighbour drops their shield slightly?”

“Kassan-”

“No, you don’t get to talk right now. You didn’t grow up here, I did. I was sent after boars at eight. I was sparring with my father at five. Sparta threw me from a cliff, and their people listened to her. We can’t let our children grow up here, we just can’t.”

She was breathing fast, trying to stay her temper.

“Kassandra, it’s better than them being dead.”

They both looked at their son at the same time, watching him breathe quietly in his sleep.

“This will force Alexios to stay, too.”

“You were both fine here in the years before me.” He sounded hopeful for the first time in days, knowing that he was slowly convincing her.

“What would we do? We don’t own a house.”

“We’ll build one.”

“We won’t have helots.”

“Good, I don’t want slaves.”

“What about Darius?”

Natakas hesitated, not having an answer. He didn’t know what his father would do in Sparta, of all places. Darius had wanted safety for his family above everything else, and they might achieve it through the protection of Sparta.

“Natakas, the cult found us in Sparta. The Order may too.”

“I know, but you’re so much better protected here, both of you. I can’t risk you, I just can’t. Please agree, even just for a few months. We can trial it. If it doesn’t work, we’ll go back to Dyme.”

Kassandra continued to look at Elpidios, now stirring from the noise of his parent’s whispered conversation. She walked over to him and smoothed out his hair.

“If he enters the agnone and is eaten by wolves, I’ll never forgive you,” Kassandra said. “In fact, I told my mother that you would forbid it.”

“I’d like to leave it up to him, actually.”

“He could be King, one day. My uncle has no heirs.”

“Or, he could be a fisherman, or a carver, or a General, or a hoplite. The future doesn’t know what it’ll be, yet.”

“No, it doesn’t,” she replied. She had never considered that Sparta would be a safe choice for them, given how historically dangerous it has been to her.

But Sparta would provide their family with protection, even if it increased the danger Natakas would face.

Kassandra opened her trunk, looking at their clothes and running her hands through the familiar cloth.

“We trial it. We get agreement from Alexios. We make sure everyone around us knows the risks that we face from the Order and are poised to face them with us. Then, and only then, do we stay.”

Natakas’ face fell in relief, hugging her so close that she thought he would burst her ribs open. When he let her go, she reached into the trunk and retrieved her armour’s shawl, and placed it in his hands, closing them over the red fabric. He looked down at it, then back at her, and pulled it over her head, letting it drape onto her shoulders.