Chapter Text
Nikandros of Delpha looked unseeingly at his reflection.
Damen was dead.
His prince was dead.
A knife glinted dully in the hands of Thaïs as she placed it beside him, but Nikandros didn’t so much as glance at it.
Damen was dead. Theomedes was dead.
And Kastor was king.
Treason, the messenger had said, among the Prince’s guard and household.
Nikandros thought the words were probably true, if not the implication behind them.
“My lord?”
Which Prince, though? Nikandros sensed Jokaste in the precise phrasing that hid more than it revealed. Did she do this?
“My lord?”
Not that it mattered.
Damen was dead.
Kastor was king.
“My lord? Please, my lord.”
Nikandros jerked his head to the side, finally noticing Thaïs as well as the shaving knife and bowl set up next to a chair. How long had she been attempting to get his attention?
He shook his head, his long hair swaying as he tried to clear his head of the overwhelming grief clouding it.
“I’m sorry, Thaïs,” he said, “You are ready?”
A faint blush crossed her face, “No my lord-I mean yes, but-I should have been more patient. Please have a seat when you are ready.” But Nikandros knew she would have to refill the hot water if he took too long.
His reflection finally caught his attention and he took a second to absorb it, twisting one of his thick strands further with his fingers. It had taken him six years to get them this long. He would miss their familiar weight. A small loss to accompany the larger one of his best friend.
Finally, he sat down and watched as Thaïs slowly cut through each lock, as she gathered them in a basket, set aside to be burned ceremonially later, and then ran the knife once more over his smooth head. It was an old tradition, one few held to these days, but Nikandros had always honored the old ways.
When she finished and began to clean up, he remained sitting, contemplating the change. His head felt even lighter than he remembered. Strange. So at odds with the weight in his chest. He wished he could gather his hair up from the basket at his feet and reattach it to his head. But he couldn’t.
Damen was dead.
A shaved head for mourning.
Kastor had betrayed the King and Crown Prince.
A shaved head for war.
He wasn’t sure he could prove it, or if the other Kyroi would care enough to find someone else to rule. But Nikandros intended to fight however he could. There was no turning back.
Theomedes was dead.
Damen was dead.
Kastor was king.
A shaved head for mourning.
A shaved head for war.
Damen was dead.