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Post by Iolanthe on Apr 8, 2007 17:51:53 GMT -5
(And I've only been gone about a million years. Happy Easter!)
Three days.
She still did not know if he was alive or not, but one would think...there would...well, there would be announcement of some sort, yes? If Spartans had been killed. She was ashamed of her cowardice, awed by the sight of true battle-even on a very small scale, and afraid. A myriad of emotions conflicting with her affection for Astinos, until she just did not think she could look upon him. Surely she should pass some sort of judgment, in favor of her people?
Dienekes...he knew what she should have done. She should have left Greece. She was not Spartan, and her presence was only going to make things worse. So why, why was she so selfish that she could not bring herself to leave? Did he not deserve an explanation? And why, for all the gods, was she pitying dead Persians?! Dead Persians who would have killed her!
She was utterly mad.
That was the only explanation Iolanthe had. She chose to leave her current haven only after she thought the fervor for Persian blood might have diminished. For there were only so many times one could pace the hallway without becoming dizzy. Iolanthe, in the hopes of avoiding military confrontation, sought the forum - which was sometimes empty, she remembered. She thought it might be empty this night...for her to gather confidence enough to leave. Yes. That would be the brave thing to do.
Iolanthe pulled the hood from her head as she took to the stone steps, hesitating near one of the massive Doric columns of the empty forum. You do not belong here. she thought to herself
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Post by Pasiphaë on Apr 8, 2007 18:10:12 GMT -5
(I don't know who this Astinos fellow is, but I hope you don't mind if I join? It sounds like a really interesting plot and I would love to give some Spartan female insight into the problem.  ) "You're the exotic beauty staying with our King's nephew, aren't you?" Pasiphae inquired dryly, by way of introduction. Since her husband had died, and her daughter was gone, Pasiphae often spent much time restlessly walking the familiar lanes of Sparta. It was better than idly reminiscing of her lost family. She could not deny that she greatly missed them, for she-as most Spartan women were-loved her family. Having a husband, a child. Those were the activities in which she took most pride, and now fate had deprived her of both. This night, however, she'd glimpsed the little Persian so many had been speaking of-and not in kind tongues. Out of fear perhaps that the foreigner might attempt to deface or steal something from the monumental forum, Pasiphae followed her, and, staring at her critically from olive green eyes, the woman repositioned the hair pins that kept her locks out of her face. Completely calm. She did not expect the Persian to be stupid enough to attack her, and if need be Pasiphae was quite capable of taking care of herself. "Dare I ask what you are doing here? I have seen you here before," Pasiphae said lightly, though her tone was threaded with a threat. "Does Pausanias not miss your presence?" There was obvious scorn in her voice then. Pasiphae knew well young Pausanias' reputation, and thanked the gods her daughter was not within his clutches. But she expected, nay, assumed, the Persian was...repaying her debt in some manner or another. |
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Post by Iolanthe on Apr 8, 2007 18:32:36 GMT -5
(God. Angelina Jolie is so gorgeous! Anyway, I am completely fine with it XD Sounds very promising, ty.)
Exotic beauty. Hearing those words roll off a Greek tongue, Iolanthe cursed inwardly. Yet another confrontation? Wonderful. The Persian turned around, leaning against one of the columns, and she rubbed the base of one palm against her eyes idly, wiping away what tears or strain might have been evident. Spartan women and their hearts of stone.
"My name is Iolanthe," the Persian corrected evenly, watching the Spartan woman approach. She was beautiful, naturally-of course she was. Beautiful and pale and Greek. Iolanthe practically balled up her fists, hiding them behind her back. "I have not the honor of being properly introduced to you," she said, through mostly gritted teeth because she didn't actually mean it.
At the question, Iolanthe was a little surprised the striking Greek had remembered her face. She gazed up, up at the arched ceiling of the Forum, and did not answer. It dwarfed her size admirably, and made Iolanthe feel even more fragile than-
"Does Pausanias not miss your presence?"
Iolanthe stiffened, narrowing her eyes on the Greek. She knew when she was being insulted.
"Would you care to be slightly more explicit?" the Persian demanded heatedly, "I cannot imagine why my host would in any way mind my freedom. He has been most gracious and hospitable." And I have done nothing to repay him in kind, she thought to herself furiously. The urge to slap the woman was so searing, Iolanthe nearly took one step forward, or started to.
She hesitated, though, impulsively taken by a more abrupt question. "Have you heard of the Persian emissaries found near Krypteia? Have you..." Hesitated. "Are the Greek-" How could she ask without it seeming so obvious?
"I'm afraid news has been scarce to me," Iolanthe abruptly said.
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Post by Pasiphaë on Apr 8, 2007 20:45:20 GMT -5
"Of course," Pasiphaë mildly replied, though she had no intention of calling the girl by her name. One had to earn respect. She arched a brow at Iolanthe's struggle to remain cordial, but obliged, "Pasiphaë, daughter of Lysander-whom I doubt you know of." She couldn't quite hold her tongue from that elitist comment.
The Persian was very touchy; Pasiphaë was surprised to see she could read every emotion as it flickered over the younger woman's face. Not very good control at all.
"It was a simple question," the Greek replied, and though she sounded calm, she did not step forward. Pasiphaë glared at Iolanthe, daring her to attempt to touch her. As quickly as the girl was angry, she was anxious.
"I know nothing of it," Pasiphaë said, this time genuine surprise registering. Followed by suspicion. "How do you? How many Spartans?"
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Post by Iolanthe on Apr 8, 2007 22:21:18 GMT -5
"How do you? How many Spartans?"
"I had nothing to do with it!" the Persian protested, pushing away from the column. "Xerxes must be sending scouts to demand tribute from Sparta." She slid her fingers through her hair, stepping into the central chamber of the forum - halfway into the room, studying the tiered benches, and she turned around, mistrustfully glaring at the Spartan.
"Two. Two Spartans against an entire Persian contingent. One of them is really...not very old. He cannot be twenty...he has thick, dark hair - it comes about here...he's very tall, about a foot moreso than I. His name is Astinos." His eyes...his lips...she could have described those, but it would not have offered much relevant detail to the Spartan - and Io wasn't in a mood to share such details.
"The last time I saw him...he...he was covered in bl-blood. Persian blood. I just wish to know they...the Spartans...are well. I have heard nothing. No one will talk to me." Bitterness broke the last few words.
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Post by Pasiphaë on Apr 8, 2007 22:32:22 GMT -5
Ares be damned.
"Astinos, the Captain's son?" Pasiphaë reiterated, simply to insure that they spoke of the same young man. She needn't spell out her discomfort to Pasiphaë-the pretty Persian had already given herself away. She was in lust with this boy. Oh, wouldn't Artemis be thrilled? the Spartan woman thought to herself sarcastically.
"Have you slept with him? Are you with child?" What other reason could there be for her to seem so concerned? Two Spartans could easily dispatch a gang of Persian thugs. That was of no consequence. Pasiphaë did not hide the disdain, the disapproval, in her voice. She glared at Iolanthe, hard. So it was not with a politician the seductress made her bed, but with a soldier. Hmm, his father's affluence, then? Was that what the little tart was after? Wouldn't the King's nephew have been a better choice?
There was something in Iolanthe's voice, though, something stammered. She was afraid-but of what?
"Surely you do not doubt Spartan valor against enemies of its state?" It was as much a question as it was a statement.
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Post by Iolanthe on Apr 9, 2007 13:36:18 GMT -5
"Of course not!" Iolanthe snapped, eyes bright with embarrassment-and indignation. Mingling her self respect and desire tumultuously. "I am not a whore," she insisted, voice softening lest others overhear, "and he knows this." Io thought she ought defend herself, as well as Astinos' choice. She did not mention what she was; simply put, there was a certain way that she liked Astinos to look at her. She did not want to change that, muddy the waters, admitting her past. It was best to ignore it altogether.
Considering this distress, Iolanthe restlessly paced a few steps, then sank down to the lowest of the stone forum benches, perching on the end, fingers wrapping over the edges of rock.
Why would she find herself confessing to a Spartan woman? A woman who, by the looks of things, had no love for her. Perhaps that was the ease of it - speaking to a stranger, one who was unarmed. Iolanthe fingered the leather Spartan belt around her waist as she thought of her response,
"I do not doubt valour, that is not the problem," Iolanthe said after a long moment, before her gaze rose to meet Pasiphae's. "Those enemies are my people, and I cannot reconcile the taste of his lips against my skin to that...that massacre." It was not a massacre; she knew this. The Spartans were outnumbered and the Persians were better armed, but at times common sense did not reign supreme, and his potential for violence scared her.
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Post by Pasiphaë on Apr 9, 2007 18:54:41 GMT -5
Pasiphaë laughed.
She was not intentionally cruel, but this was too much to bear! Had this women really forgotten in whose nation she stood, at this very moment? Pasiphaë would have thought one from Xerxes- a true monster, mind-would not have the slightest problem with violence. With the deaths of those who would drag her back to captivity.
Persians were fickle people.
"Heed this," the Spartan warned, touching Iolanthe's chin with one hand, as she certainly wouldn't bend to make eye contact. "I wish nothing more but that you release this Spartan boy, for your affections will only bring heartache upon you both." She paused, harsh clarity of her voice dulling slightly-but nonetheless demanding,
"But If you are determined to choose a Spartan, you must accept him for what he is. You must accept both the man, as he gives himself to you, and the soldier - you cannot pick and choose what parts of Spartan society you wish to embrace! For it has been since birth such skills were engrained in him, and blood more often than not will stain your lover's body. Do not emasculate him of this because you find yourself homesick for a land you have fled from.
"We are not a peaceful people, Iolanthe of Persia, and you would do well to improve your disdain. There is nothing more honorable amongst us, than to fight - to achieve glory and to protect one's king and one's people."
She hesitated, but did not cease. "You may not be accustomed to such fidelity, but you should become familiar with it. If you mean to turn a blind eye to the upcoming war, it would be best for all involved that you swallow your pride and get out now. For there are plenty of Spartan women who would be more than eager to congratulate young Astinos on his victory." Meaning, in as friendly a tone as possible, you can be replaced.
"Either celebrate the triumph or grieve the failure. You cannot have both sides, Iolanthe. You cannot reconcile the two because they are not meant to be reconciled. You. Must. Choose."
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Post by Iolanthe on Apr 10, 2007 17:35:40 GMT -5
Iolanthe knew that Pasiphae spoke truthfully, and the Persian agreed - reluctantly. On most counts. But when Pasiphae insinuated replacement, Iolanthe's eyes flashed possessively. She had no claim to him, and yet...
"Like you?" the Persian asked, the faintest threat in her voice. Was this competition, then, standing before her? Iolanthe may not have been a warrior, but she was far from docile when it came to keeping what she wanted. And this Spartan woman was going to keep her hands off Astinos. Or perhaps the Persian was simply inventing these phantoms? She touched the back of her own head, her neck, thinking.
"If Sparta would have me...I think...I would choose it," Iolanthe replied hesitantly, though hers wasn't a rousing endorsement. "I do not receive much encouragement from the Greeks. It would be difficult." But not necessarily something she was unwilling to try. The alternative was no more savory, and there was no one to protect her in Persia. Xerxes could hardly count as a guardian. And in Sparta...
No one knew who she was, here. If she could simply avoid Xerxes' men, she would be more than fine. "He is the most handsome man I have ever seen," she admitted.
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Post by Astinos on Apr 10, 2007 18:10:58 GMT -5
((OOC: Wasn't quite sure how to bring him into this, if edits are needed, just let me know.))
He was about to retire for the night. The day's training had been fantastically difficult. He was aware now that everyone was gearing up for war. The deadly machine that was Sparta had been turned on and Astinos was proud to be a part of it. He was not married, but certainly that would not matter in his case? He was the eldest son of Artemis, rank should have its perks. At least he thought so.
He was lying back on his bed, his arms bent behind his neck as he gazed out the open window. The stars were bright tonight. He couldn't help but feel that it was a good omen. He would earn glory for Sparta. He would not let his father down. Nor his great King.
A shadow formed within the door. He held a moment's hope that it was his father, coming to congratulate him on his progress. But it only took a moment for him to accept that it wasn't. The figure was small. At first he thought it was a woman but then he recognized the shape as that of one of the servants.
"Astinos? Do you sleep?"
"I do...but...not just yet." He pressed up onto an elbow, the moonlight catching his grinning face. The grin faded quickly though, "What news have you of Dienekes?"
"I have no news of him."
Confusion spread across his young face as he sat up, the fabric covering him falling to his waist, "Why are you here? The sun will rise early for me."
"I have no news of your friend. A servant from Pausanias' household has come with a message."
"What message? What does the King's nephew want with me?' Does he know that I kissed her? Is that why she has been hidden from me these past few days? Astinos made a valiant attempt at hiding his discomfort. It was not right to reveal so much. He had been taught better than that. He cleared his throat, "Where? Where is this messenger who seeks me out in the middle of the night?"
He didn't want to think that something as simple as a kiss would ignite the playboy into action against him, but less had provoked men to violence. He had seen as much.
"Near the public fountain," the servant said and promptly disappeared. Astinos had no idea what to expect but he made hast of dressing in his usual attire. The ivory cloak feel upon his shoulders in the wake of his sandals. The sword found it's place as well, as did the Falcata. He made his way out of the home leaving no sounds in his wake to give him away.
He found the messenger soon enough, "What goes?"
"The Persian seeks you. Meet her in the Forum."
The message delivered the girl made her way into the dark winding corridors between the soldier's homes surrounding the wide courtyard. Astinos smiled once he was alone. I knew it. She wants me too. He moved more quickly now. He entered the empty forum, his eyes falling onto one of the reason's he had still been awake, "Iolanthe?!" He lowered his tone to a near whisper, the Spartan woman off to his side. She was lost to him, for he only had eyes for the woman he pulled into his arms and kissed soundly. he allowed the kiss to end, his youthful exuberance clear, "I haven't seen you. I was afraid I had done something wrong.'
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Post by Iolanthe on Apr 10, 2007 19:24:26 GMT -5
(Ooh a messenger. I never would have thought of that XD It was marvellous. What say you, Pasiphae?)
Iolanthe did not mention that she had asked Astinos here. She'd also asked that the slave keep her mouth shut about the request and who had sent it. If Astinos was not there, nothing was to be mentioned. Nonetheless, Io was somewhat preoccupied - and anxious even. She had never been on the giving side of a summons before.
"Iolanthe?!"
At first, she thought she might be imagining things, but surely not. "Astinos." Iolanthe smiled, she couldn't help herself, and she stood to greet him - his greeting was more enthusiastic than she expected, but not altogether...unpleasant. No, kissing him was not a bad thing at all.
Iolanthe returned the surprise kiss with some flare, wrapping her arms around his neck, almost on tip-toes; when he ceased to speak, Io nipped at his bottom lip with her teeth - a very brief kiss indicated she didn't think he'd done anything wrong. This was as much her relief at seeing him alive as...a show for the Spartan. Around men, it was perfectly fine for her to be modest. But the moment Iolanthe thought that this woman might compete with her...she decided she wanted to make it very clear.
"Wrong?" She shook her head. Of course not. She hadn't been sure he would come-if indeed, he could, and Iolanthe found herself more than relieved, splaying her fingers against his chest in order to look up at him. "I'm so glad you're alright," Iolanthe admitted, "I wasn't sure...and I did not think..." She looked for the Spartan, then, somewhat flustered.
"This is Pasiphae," she introduced the other woman. She thought Pasiphae would be able to grasp who he was well enough.
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Post by Pasiphaë on Apr 10, 2007 19:50:18 GMT -5
(Coolio! Hi Astinos. Zomg, kids, this post below was really fun for me to do. Hehe.)
“You are Artemis’ son. I would have thought you smarter than this,” Pasiphae chastised impatiently, glaring at him with the same disappointment as she’d bestowed on the girl. Though naturally she blamed the Persian more. He couldn’t very well help if the little wretch was using her wiles on him, or whatever foreign magicks those women possessed. But one would think he could be a little more cautious. She had watched the entire exchange without blushing; she was Spartan, after all. Aside from giving her the smallest grief in memory of her husband, she could only study this…as one might study an impending catastrophe impossible to avert. Yes, that is exactly what it looked like to her. And whose fault was this?
She glared at Iolanthe. “You don’t think servants will speak to one another? They have eyes and mouths as much as anyone. Do you have any idea how dangerous this is? Hmm? Either of you?! Meeting in the dead of night-oh! If that doesn't bespeak of lovers, I do not know what does!” All good sense had apparently vanished from the forum!
Pasiphaë just shook her head, studying the culprits. “If you are caught, you will be killed, do you understand me? Do neither of you value your lives, let alone your honor? If she begets your child, Astinos, there will be hell to pay! I don’t imagine your father approves of this, does he? Someone really ought to tell him…surely he can knock in you good sense if no one else can.”
“What exactly do you two expect will come out of this?” The Spartan woman clasped her hands together, impatient with their lack of forethought. She opened her hands. On the left? “Persian”. On the right? “Spartan.” She combed her fingers through her hair for a moment’s pause. “Or have you both forgotten that we are on the eve of war!”
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Post by Astinos on Apr 13, 2007 21:12:55 GMT -5
"Wrong?" She shook her head.
He smiled as she pulled away from him, his hand and arms comfortable holding her within them. He nodded, silently telling himself that he could relax a little bit. She wasn't angry at him for kissing him. If anything he was pleased to have done so again. She seemed to enjoy it as much as he had, which was also a relief. He had heard that many men chose to forcibly take the woman they chose to marry. He did not want that for himself. He wanted her to want him as much as he wanted her.
"I'm so glad you're alright," Iolanthe admitted, "I wasn't sure...and I did not think..."
"Of course I am...alright. Why wouldn't I be?" He would have to teach her about the lives of men here. He would not have her disrupt his son's true path, or course he would have to gain his father's blessing. But certainly if she was a guest in Pausanias home she was a worthy candidate? Her expression then made him want to question her, but she spoke before he could ask why the sudden change.
"This is Pasiphae," she introduced the other woman.
His expression made it clear on many levels that he felt like a boy who had been caught with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar. He even blinked as he saw the woman he knew so well, but worse she knew his father. He had been to see Dienekes the day before and the subject of the Persian had not been raised, Astinos doubted that she would feel so compelled. Especially if her expression was as telling as her words.
“You are Artemis’ son. I would have thought you smarter than this,” Pasiphae chastised impatiently.
"I thought we were alone," he answered honestly. He glanced down at the ground for a moment before remembering all that he was and lifting his chin proudly to hear what she said. He would show her respect and listen to all she had to say. He could only hope that she would not speak to his father, that was the second thing that kept him from wanting to run. Iolanthe's nearness was the first. His body spoke eloquently now of just how much she had been dominant within his thoughts.
“You don’t think servants will speak to one another? They have eyes and mouths as much as anyone. Do you have any idea how dangerous this is? Hmm? Either of you?! Meeting in the dead of night-oh! If that doesn't bespeak of lovers, I do not know what does!”
Talk about a double edged sword. The idea of taking her to his bed was met with the knowledge that, yes, his feelings for Iolanthe would not now be secret. Dangerous, yes, he admitted, this was. Still, he had done nothing wrong. And in his eyes the Persian was also innocent. She could not help her inferior heritage. She was here now, that was all that mattered.
"I am an honorable man. I will not soil her reputation." He said with a fair amount of defiance, as if he were speaking of a Spartan maid. He wanted her past to be ignored. He wanted that more than anything. She was Greek now, was she not?...or at least would be once he convinced his father to allow him to seek her out and claim her as his wife. He did worry about the legitimacy of his sons then as she continued. He had wanted this to be as he wished it would be, not as he was afraid it would be.
“If you are caught, you will be killed, do you understand me? Do neither of you value your lives, let alone your honor? If she begets your child, Astinos, there will be hell to pay! I don’t imagine your father approves of this, does he? Someone really ought to tell him…surely he can knock in you good sense if no one else can.”
"I will speak to my father...," he said quietly. All that she said made perfect sense. It was logical and sound in its wisdom. He knew she was right but this wasn't what he wanted. He frowned, crossing his arms over his chest, "I will not give her up. I cannot."
His eyes said what his mouth could not. He was confused about how best to handle this. He had fallen hard and fast for the exotic beauty. For the first time in his life he was on the brink of being loved and being able to return that love as only a man could give his heart to his woman. At the same time, he would not be a full fledged citizen for many a fortnight. He was still considered a boy in the eyes of all those he admired. He was a great warrior but he had no power, not yet anyway. Hidden in his expression, one so readable to a Spartan mother, was the silent plea to not speak of this to anyone, especially his father.
“What exactly do you two expect will come out of this?” The Spartan woman clasped her hands together, impatient with their lack of forethought. She opened her hands. On the left? “Persian”. On the right? “Spartan.” She combed her fingers through her hair for a moment’s pause. “Or have you both forgotten that we are on the eve of war!”
"I am a son of Sparta, first and foremost. I have forgotten nothing,' his tone was slightly defensive but he spoke the truth. They both knew this. He closed his eyes, bow Iolanthe would as well. He had not chosen this but he was torn. He loved his country, his parents, his King but he wanted to the freedom to choose who else he could love. Until he had met the woman he had never felt the need to separate the two before, had he not been so young he would have recognized the problem in this. He looked from one woman to the next, remembering something, a sort of last straw, "She has news that will aide Sparta. News for Leonidas' ears. Certainly that will grant her..." and us..."...a place...of respect...here."
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Post by Pasiphaë on Apr 13, 2007 22:01:04 GMT -5
Gods, grant me patience, Pasiphae thought to herself. He was young and proud and resistant to surrendering-in this case, surrendering the woman. The essence of Spartan youth, and as much as valued it, she cursed it as well. The likelihood of Artemis' approval was about as likely as an Athenian learning to wield a blade. "It is not her reputation I am concerned over," Pasiphae bluntly replied, with an imperious glance directed towards the Persian. He spoke of the girl as if she was equal to any Spartan girl-she was not! His lack of prejudice was endearing but if the girl's anxious question had indicated anything-why wouldn't a Spartan man be fine? You didn't coddle your men! You didn't plead with them not to go or weep or wail over their wounds-you handed them their shields and hoped to the gods they died with the wounds on their chests, not their backs. (For back wounds would indicate they ran away in battle  ) She'd never had a son, and maybe if she had, she could have been harder on the boy standing in front of her. She could have flatly refused to listen, and dragged him and the accused Persian before Artemis. A mother would have done that, would have protected her boy, regardless of what he wanted. But Pasiphae sighed, touching her left temple with one hand. The headache was not far off. " Perhaps," the woman sighed. "But Astinos, it would kill your father to see you make such a grave mistake," she said finally, looking at him. "I ask you to reconsider this, for it is not wise." She already knew what the outcome of that would be, and straightened reluctantly. "However, if this is your choice, I will give you leave to tell your father when you deem it safe to do so...provided you do tell him. If I discover that you've eloped..."She looked at the Persian, whom she'd been ignoring. Astinos' partiality was clear, but Iolanthe was harder to read, and Pasiphae was unsure as to whether or not the woman shared his sentiments. News to aide Sparta against the Persians might...might give Iolanthe some immunity, but she did not think it would stretch far enough to allow intermarriage. And what did the girl care: she had nothing to lose and everything to gain! "If you truly cared for this Spartan, Iolanthe, you would not force him to choose," Pasiphae said sharply, though she doubted the girl would listen. "And if you wound him, Woman-" And she did not mean physical. "-I will break your skull open myself and feed your brains to the Stygian dogs."
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Post by Iolanthe on Apr 16, 2007 12:11:55 GMT -5
"I am an honorable man. I will not soil her reputation."
Iolanthe felt the warmth flood her cheeks in pleased surprise. She could not look up, though she felt an enormous amount of gratitude. He defended her honor. While the Spartan woman spoke the fears Iolanthe had held, somehow he managed to relieve it. He knew not who her family was, or from what home she came from...and it made no difference to him.
Unfortunately, Pasiphae crushed that thread of ecstasy. She was not unused to insults, but it did not make them easier to bear, particularly now that she was free, and she had brought them news – and she deserved the same respect as anyone else. Iolanthe turned around, but she didn’t step away from Astinos. Rather, the Persian preferred having him behind her, and leaned against his chest. Iolanthe glared at Pasiphae for the insinuation.
"What do you think I shall do? Defile temples with my Persian graffiti? Dance naked in the streets?" It was preposterous. "I would never seek to dishonor the man who saved my life." Io glanced up, way up, seeking Astinos’ face. “I wouldn’t,” she insisted, in a softer voice – as if maybe she could pretend the Spartan woman wasn’t standing a few feet away. “I would never intentionally shame you.”
She was not so ungrateful, or crude. She could have, perhaps, added more but the mention of Astinos' father troubled her. This was the first direct mention she had had concerning herself and the captain. Iolanthe dropped her gaze, and she stepped away from him – to the side, searchingly studying the ground more than anything. To think.
"I will speak to my father...,"
Gods. Why had she fancied herself thoughts of proposal and courting? Could she even imagine the look upon his parents' faces? It would be horrifying. And humiliating. She would be fortunate if they did not cut her down the moment she crossed the threshold of their home.
"I will not give her up. I cannot."
Iolanthe couldn’t coincide the two, that part which wished to beam like a fool, or that which hid her face in shame. How nice would it have been to simply agree, surrender to lusts and…ignore that Xerxes was coming, that no on wanted her in Sparta and no one trusted her – a precarious position for her to maintain, and that she was besotted with one of the most perfect men in existence who could be fierce as Ares, but at the same time…it just…seemed as if he wasn’t quite as jaded as the other soldiers. There was a sort of idealism that most people lost, that she certainly didn’t have. She didn’t want him to lose it…
Almost as if reading her thoughts, Pasiphae spoke. Iolanthe knew what she said was true, but it didn’t stop her from glaring at the woman in something very near to hatred for bringing it to the forefront.
“It was not my intent to cause strife to anyone,” she answered angrily – well, except Xerxes, of course. “You give me too much credit, Lady Pasiphae. I could not force a Spartan to do anything. Astinos is quite capable of making his own decisions. He does not need me to tell him what he should want.” And he wants me, was her unspoken ending.
And then, well, oddly enough, Iolanthe actually believe Pasiphae would strike her head open. She had little to say to that, and merely accepted the threat with a glance.
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