Captive Bride 2; Daughter of Sparta

by Andromeda

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Epilogue – Philomena POV

  The Captive Bride 2; Daughter of Sparta

  A NOVEL by,

  Andromeda

  Copyright

  ©Copyright 2016 by After Hours Publications and Andromeda. All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any written, electronic, recording, or photocopying without written permission of the publisher or author. The exception would be in the case of brief quotations embodied in the critical articles or reviews and pages where permission is specifically granted by the publisher or author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and instances are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Dedication

  Dedicated to my family, my friends and fans. Without you all, none of my writing would be possible.

  Introduction

  They say that love comes in all shapes and forms, and no one knows this better than the great Spartan Queen Zenobia of Ethiopia. From Lost Princess, to bed-slave, to Queen, the Ethiopian woman has faced hardship after hardship, but in the end, she found what she was always looking for. Love. While her early relationship with the Spartan King Alexander was rocky, to say the least, in the end, they grew to love each other and produced five beautiful children.

  However, dark times came for the happy couple, as the Persians invaded, and it was through dishonor that Zenobia lost her beloved husband. Knowing that her kingdom needed her, Zenobia knew that she couldn’t put on the cape of grieving widow. She also knew that there were several people within the capital who didn’t want to see a foreigner in place of power, nor did they want a woman to rule.

  Moving swiftly, Zenobia took control with the help of her loyal followers and friends, securing the throne for her son, and his son, and his son after. Zenobia had founded a dynasty for her family, but little did she know that the true star, the one who would be the greatest leader in Spartan history, wouldn’t be her son at all. Instead, the true great leader would be her daughter, Philomena.

  Philomena was a girl, and though she be raised in Sparta, some still looked down on her. Yet, Philomena wanted to prove them wrong, and worked hard to show that she wasn’t ‘just a girl’. However, the battle that claimed the life of her father was still fresh in the minds of others and the Persian Empire wanted revenge for the death of their Emperor by the hands of Queen Zenobia.

  Conflicts arose, tearing families apart and destroying the land, all in the useless name of revenge. In order to keep the peace and seal an alliance, Zenobia offered up a compromise: the hand of her eldest daughter Philomena to Darius, son of Xerxes, whose head Zenobia herself separated from his shoulders. While many was the value of this alliance, Philomena herself was against it, as her heart lied with another: her childhood friend, Abeeku.

  But Philomena quickly had to learn that life doesn’t always turn out the way you want it. She had to learn to put her people ahead of herself, and she had to learn quickly. But there were people who weren’t happy: rival heirs to the throne, disloyal lords threatening a coupe, tragedy within the family and more. As futures of two kingdoms rested on her shoulders, Philomena had to learn where her loyalties lie, while also showing that she shouldn’t be counted less than, just because she was a girl…

  Chapter One

  “I said…back away from my father,” Philomena growled.

  Roshni laughed evilly, holding the pillow up high in the air. “What’s wrong, little girl, afraid?”

  “No!” Philomena declared, though her voice wavered. “I…I’m not afraid of you…”

  She pulled the bowstring back and released, but it turned into a snake in her hands. Philomena screamed as she dropped the hissing, wiggling body and backed up, the laughter of Roshni ringing in her ears.

  “Poor little princess,” Roshni cooed in mock-sympathy. “Poor little princess. You’re nothing, you know? You were born into nothing and will die the same way. No one loves you.”

  “No!” Philomena cried. “M…My papa loved me! I know he did!”

  “Or did he?” Roshni said with a wide grin. “He always did favor your brother more. Face it, little one, you’re nothing but a girl and a girl has no place ruling a country.”

  The shadows alongside the walls moved toward Philomena and the girl screamed. She tried to turn around and run away, but the ground under her bare feet turned to quick sand and she began to sink.

  “Help me!” she yelled, clawing to stay up. “Mama! Papa! Someone help me!”

  “Princess?” a distant voice said. “Princess, please, wake up, it’s a nightmare.”

  Philomena jolted awake, cold sweat covered her body as she breathed heavily; her eyes looking around frantically. She was in her bedchambers at the royal palace, the only light was from the candle that her nursemaid held in her hand, peering down at her.

  “W…Where is she?” Philomena asked. “Where is Roshni?”

  “Roshni?” her nursemaid repeated in slight confusion. “My lady, that murderous whore has been dead for almost a decade. You killed her yourself, remember?”

  Philomena drew the covers around her body, her small shoulders shook as silent sobs racked her body when she remembered that night in the tent almost a decade ago. The night that she hadn’t been able to stop dreaming about. The night she killed the Persian spy, Roshni. That was the same night that she had lost her father, the night that the balance of power changed forever.

  Movement at the foot of her bed made her look down, and she saw her younger lioness cub Hera move, growling in protest. Philomena’s constant moving and crying out in her sleep had woken her.

  “I’m sorry, Hera,” Philomena quickly apologized. “I…I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  The lioness grumbled and rolled back over to sleep; she’d never been an early morning person. Philomena’s governess, on the other hand, turned back to her charge and frowned slightly.

  “Shall I call the Queen Regent?” she asked. “We need to do something about these nightmares.”

  “No!” Philomena said quickly. “I…I mean no…I’m fine. I don’t want to disturb her…she is asleep right now…”

  At that moment, there was a knock on the door, and when it opened, Philomena’s heart quickened when she saw that it was Abeeku who poked his head in.

  “Can we help you?” the nursemaid asked.

  “I heard the princess crying out in her sleep,” Abeeku said as he looked to Philomena. “I came to help.”

  The nursemaid opened her mouth to dismiss him, but Philomena spoke up first, cutting her off.

  “T…Thank you, Abeeku,” she said. “I…I would like you to stay.”

  “My lady,” the nursemaid protested. “I highly doubt that your mother would accept such a thing.”

  “No, she wouldn’t,” Philo
mena said, overruling her. “Abeeku’s mother is Deka, her best friend from her home. She wouldn’t mind if he stayed and watched over me.”

  The nursemaid pressed her lips together, but Philomena had a look in her eye; a look just like her mother that brooked no argument, so she was forced to obey. The nursemaid stood up and bowed her head before backing out of the room, walking to the door. Abeeku stepped aside and smiled nicely.

  “Do not worry, I will make sure that the princess is always safe,” he said to her.

  The nursemaid frowned, but left the room. Abeeku turned to her and Philomena nervously tucked some hair behind her ear.

  “Y…You heard me screaming out there?” she asked.

  “Yes, I did,” he said, walking over and sitting at the foot of her bed. “And I worried about you, Your Highness.”

  Philomena smiled. “I told you a long time ago to stop calling me that.”

  “Oh?” Abeeku said with a smile. “Or shall you like me to call you ‘spoiled little princess’?”

  “I am not spoiled!” Philomena said firmly, though there was a smile on her lips. “Well…not by much.”

  Abeeku laughed. Slowly, he placed his hand on top of hers as he gazed into her eyes with admiration. For as long as he’d known her, Abeeku was in love with one girl and one girl only: Philomena. Though she was only 14, and he 15, he knew that she was the one for him. However, he knew that he had to protect her honor. Even though some princesses married as young as 12, he knew that the Queen Regent would never allow it to happen.

  “Do you…want to stay here?” Philomena asked softly. “You are my guard, after all…”

  Abeeku nodded and crawled into bed alongside her, his arm wrapped around her as he held her to his chest. He sleeping in her bed to comfort her was nothing new. When they were young, and when she lived in the nursery with her younger siblings, they would sometimes all crawl into bed together, and hold each other close if anyone was frightened.

  Sighing softly, he kissed her temple and began humming an African hymn that he knew would calm her. Philomena closed her eyes, comforted at once by his song and touch.

  *******

  The following morning found Abeeku’s arms wrapped protectively tight around her waist. Philomena smiled softly and kissed his cheek before slipping out of bed. She walked to the golden basin and began to clean her face with the lemon and lavender water within. She never had nightmares when he was lying next to her, though she wished that they would stop forever. Ever since she killed Roshni in that tent, nightmares had plagued her dreams. They didn’t come every night, but when they did, they terrified her soul. Guilt weighed heavily on her mind as she tried to think of other ways of stopping the woman, but in the end, it always pointed to an arrow in Roshni’s head.

  Movement in the bed behind her made her turn around and see Abeeku sitting up, rubbing his eyes. “Good morning,” he said with a yawn.

  “Good morning,” she said shyly. “You…you hungry? Morning meal should be ready soon.”

  “Yeah,” he said nodding, getting up.

  He walked to her, cupping her chin and looking into her eyes. Though they were young, the emotions he knew they had were very strong, but he also knew that they weren’t ready for the next stage of their relationship that he wanted. His hands caressed her cheek before he pulled his hands away, lest he be tempted to dishonor her.

  “We should go,” he said hoarsely. “Before…”

  “Yeah,” Philomena said shyly. “W…We should.”

  Abeeku opened the door for her and then followed her outside, headed to the dining room. The Royal Palace of Sparta was one of the most beautiful buildings in all of Greece, at least it was to Philomena. A mixture of Greek and African culture flowed within the halls, signifying her mixed heritage and the new royal family of Sparta.

  When they reached the dining room, Zenobia was already there, of course, scrolls placed before her as she worked. Philomena would always be in awe of her mother; how she always seemed to command order, how she didn’t know whether to bow or leap into her arms for her hug. Her mother was a queen born and raised; it was that simple; Philomena, herself, always felt humbled in her presence.

  Her twin brother Matthias was talking with their siblings: Anaxandridas, and the youngest twins named Aero and Zeta. When they looked up and saw her, the twins leapt up and rushed over, flinging their small arms around her waist as they chattered at the same time, demanding her attention.

  Philomena laughed and looked down at them. “Hello, you two. I have missed you, too.”

  “Mena! Mena! Mena!” Zeta chirped. “I want to show you something! I want to show you something!”

  Philomena bent down and smiled at her younger sister. She’d always loved Zeta; as the only other girl in the family, they had a strong bond between them. Zeta also looked up to Philomena, and followed her around like a little pet, copying everything she did.

  “What do you want to show me?” Philomena asked the little one.

  “I found a baby bird outside!” Zeta said. “And I want to raise it! Mama said I can, but can you help me, please?”

  Philomena smiled. “Of course I shall help you. I’ll come to your bedchambers later today, OK?”

  “Speaking of bed chambers,” Zenobia suddenly said aloud. “I hear that Abeeku slept in yours last night?”

  Philomena instantly blushed. “I…I had another nightmare.”

  Zenobia nodded and looked to the boy who was also blushing. She knew of his affection for her daughter—some might even call it love—but they were too young to know what love truly was. They were too young to know what love truly brings you: pain and pleasure. There were times with Alexander that she felt as if she were going to tear her hair out, but when he took her into her arms, he made her feel as if she was the only woman in the world. She was the only one for him, and he was the only man for her; how she missed him greatly…

  “I will hope,” she said, looking at the two of them, “that you both use wisdom in this path that you are going. Abeeku, I would hate to lose the friendship of Deka because you broke my daughter’s heart and I had to kill you.”

  Abeeku nervously ran his hand through his short hair. “Understood, Highness.”

  “Good,” Zenobia said nodding before she turned to her daughter. “Let us eat our meal, as we all have a very busy day.”

  Philomena took her seat with Abeeku beside her, and as they ate, under the table, their hands were clasped together.

  *******

  Meanwhile in a kingdom far, far away, a young man chased a young woman naked through the white marble halls of the palace. The young woman giggled furiously as she ran, her long black hair flying in the breeze behind her. The young man, Darius, grinned like a madman, his hands outstretched to grab her.

  “Your Highness, please!” the girl giggled as she ducked behind a pillar. “Your Highness, we can’t! Not here!”

  Darius grinned at her, jumping to catch her. “I am the ruler of the greatest empire in the world! I will do what I want! Now come here…”

  The young woman yelped and laughed as his hands grabbed her waist, but before he could kiss her, a throat was cleared behind them. Darius groaned, as he knew who it was and slowly, he turned to face one of his nobles named Siyavash along with several servants.

  “Your Highness,” Siyavash said tightly. “If you so mind as to dress, we would take you to your council meeting. The one that you were…going to miss not long ago?”

  Darius rolled his eyes. He didn’t want to go to a boring old council meeting; he’d rather be tumbling in the sheets with Amani, the slave-girl he held in his arms. He’d rather be hunting; he’d rather be riding his horse. There were many things that Darius would want to do rather than go and sit in a council meeting. However, he knew that he had to agree, he had to say ‘yes’ to Siyavash, or else a certain woman would be very, very unhappy if she heard.

  “Alright,” he grumbled. “Alright, alright. I’m coming.”

 
Siyavash’s lips curved into what could pass for a smirk and a smile at the same time; he bowed before his young ruler. “You do the empire a great service, my lord,” he said, though sarcasm dripped in every syllable. “Now…if you so kindly get dressed…”

  Darius reluctantly let go of Amani, though the girl pouted her lips. He grinned at her roguishly. “Let me finish this meeting,” he whispered, “and I will come back to you…”

  A servant held out a black and gold robe for Darius, which he took and wrapped around his body before following them to his chambers, where they dressed him. Once dressed, he then walked to his council room and sat on his throne. Every time he sat on his throne, he thought of only one person: his father. He was only a young boy when he was killed, but every day without him seemed like both a blessing and a curse.

  While his father rarely paid that much attention to him growing up, save for teaching him how to rule, he was still a kind man when they were together. Darius was in reality closer to his mother, Rhodogune, as it was she who taught him many lessons over his life. However, every now and then, Darius would feel a strange pang of pain for the loss of the man who created him; he felt sad about how his mother mourned his father Xerxes as she truly loved the man when he was alive. But Rhodogune always told Darius that while she loved her husband, she loved her son more as they were the true key to eternal life.

  Darius knew that people compared him to his father constantly, and he hated it. Physically, he looked like his mother, but everyone wanted him to look like his father; everyone wanted him to act like his father. He wasn’t a warrior, not like his father anyway. He could use a sword to a good enough extent, but nothing like his father; nor was he clever like him.

  “My lord,” a councilman said, bowing. “I have gotten several reports of our lands within the Greek territories; some of them are disturbing as they are lightly-skimming on breaking our treaty with the Spartan Queen Regent.”