by Andromeda
Darius frowned. He knew whom the council member was talking about. Everyone knew who the Spartan Queen Regent was; she was a legend in all of Persia, if not the world. To some, she was a hero, to others, a villain; however, Darius’s own feelings for the woman were a bit complicated.
He’d never seen her face to face, but then again, if it weren't for her, then he wouldn’t be king as she killed his own father with her hands. Her combat prowess was spoken all throughout the realms; with some women praising her, while some men speaking down on her. To them, the Queen Regent was nothing more than an icon for their women to follow, and a dangerous one at that.
The Persian Empire—and most of the world—was patrimonial, with the fathers, husbands, and sons leading the families. Women held a subservient role, as most scholars believed that a woman’s place was in the home, and to obey the men placed over her. However, the Queen Regent challenged all of this because she showed that a woman could rule; that women could be equal to men.
In the long history of the Persian Empire, there had never been a Queen Regent, or a woman ruling at all really. If a woman ever did hold power, it was because she was the mother or wife of a powerful man, and even then, she had great limitations to her powers and abilities.
However, Darius’s council all hated the Queen Regent, as after the defeat of the Persian Empire in battle, she pressed heavy laws upon them. For starters, they had to give back several key cities that had been in Persian hands for centuries. Another thing she made them do was pay her tribute, and a lot of it. For every official in the realms—and there were hundreds—his weight in gold, silver, and bronze had to be sent to Sparta; as well as cloth, spices, jewels and much more. Not only that, but they were forbidden from invading any part of Greece as long as her dynasty held the throne, and seeing as she had three sons, all who were very healthy, her dynasty was set to last for a very long time.
“What do you hear within our Greek territories?” Darius asked, as he tried to go over the territories they did still have in Greece.
“Some of them are revolting against your power, my lord,” the councilman continued. “And it seems that the Greeks are giving them aid to break away from you.”
Darius frowned; he knew that this couldn’t stand. He also knew that if these cities were to break away from the Persian Empire, then they would lose great resources. “I would send a letter to the Queen Regent’s advisor,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “Not only that, but lightly remind him Sparta is our ally, and shouldn’t be giving aid to rebels.”
The scribes made a quick note of that, before leaving to draw up the papers. When the meeting was over, Darius quickly left, going in search of Amani. Siyavash walked over to the councilman, a smirk on his lips.
“I do hope that the Greek, black-skinned whore heeds our king’s advice,” he said silkily. “I would hate for Persia to go to war again. And with a king like ours…who knows what might happen…”
Chapter Two
“Good morning, Pallas,” Philomena called as she and her siblings walked into the classroom.
Their royal tutor lifted his head and smiled when he saw them. “Good morning, Your Highnesses. I hope you all have your minds open to learn.”
The royal children took their seats in several Maplewood desks, inlaid with gold and silver. They weren’t the only children there, as several nobles’ children were there also. There were two courts within the Spartan royal palace: an adult one and one for children. Zenobia ruled the adult one, of course, seeing as she was Queen Regent, but as for the one for children, Philomena and her brother Matthias were in charge of it.
Zenobia made the court for her children to grow up with children their own age, for them to have friends and to not be in seclusion like most royal children are. She didn’t have siblings growing up, and knew the high value of family. A value she had tried to instill into her children.
Lessons for them were mainly geography, science, languages, arithmetic and the political arts. Philomena was always the star pupil, absorbing everything as if she were a dehydrated person in a desert. She thanked her mother, who always taught her the value of hard work and that while she might be pretty, physically, her looks wouldn’t last, but what did last was her spirit and mentality.
As Pallas began their lessons, Abeeku―who sat next to Philomena―kept making faces at her in order to make her giggle or laugh. Philomena, who normally had great self-control when it came to him, turned into a giggling, blushing little girl. Matthias looked at the two of them and rolled his eyes. He liked Abeeku and hoped that he married his sister, but they were intolerable to be around when they turned into this. Instead, he turned to Adonia, the daughter of Anthea and Titus and winked at her smugly.
The girl rolled her eyes and turned to Philomena, elbowing her friend to remind her that they were in class and needed to focus. Lessons went by quickly, and once they were done, they all headed outside for a light noon meal.
“You have got to stop making cow eyes at Abeeku,” Adonia said as she sat down next to Philomena.
Philomena blushed. “I cannot help it, Adonia; I like Abeeku.”
“And I know he likes you,” Adonia said with a roll of her eyes. “But geez, you guys could lighten up on the flirting a bit. It makes me sick to my stomach.”
Philomena threw her head back in laughter. “That is rich coming from you, my friend.”
Adonia shrugged. “No boy here has caught my eye and I doubt one ever will. I don’t see any use for boys.”
“You say that now, but just wait until the itch strikes you,” Philomena chuckled. “You’d swim through a river of lava to be with your love.”
Adonia rolled her eyes and went back to eating. As Philomena ate, she glanced up and saw Abeeku waving to her to get her attention. Curious, she got up and rushed over to see what he could want.
“I saw a caravan arriving today,” he explained. “And from the looks of it, it was someone rich.”
“Who could it be?” she asked.
“I do not know,” he said, “but I can find out. My mother knows everything and I know the queen knows, too.”
“Let’s go ask them,” Philomena said.
Abeeku grasped her hand, which made her gasp softly as a jolt of electricity shot through her body. Together, they ran to Zenobia’s chambers and knocked on the door. A servant opened the door to them and bowed, allowing them inside, and led them to where Zenobia reclined on a bed, looking over papers, while another servant fanned her with ostrich feathers. When she saw who approached, she put the papers away and sat up, tilting her head at her daughter and childhood friend.
“Can I help you two?” she asked in her queenly voice that commanded order.
“Who arrived not long ago?” Philomena asked. “Abeeku said that he saw a caravan arrive.”
“Oh, did he?” Zenobia said, as she turned her sharp grey eyes to Abeeku, who blushed slightly.
“Y…Yes, Your Highness,” Abeeku stammered slightly.
Zenobia looked to the servants and they got the hint. Quickly and quietly, they slipped from the room, leaving only the queen and the two children. Zenobia waited a moment before she turned to the children, her eyes boring into them.
“Who do you think arrived?” she asked.
Philomena and Abeeku looked at each other nervously, until Philomena spoke up. “I…I don’t know. A prince?”
“In a way, you are correct,” Zenobia said as she stood up. “The person who arrived in the caravan was Dorian, the son of Eridian.”
Philomena and Abeeku’s hearts froze in their chests; they couldn’t believe what Zenobia had just said. While they had never met before, everyone knew who Eridian was and what he tried to do to the kingdom. He, and one of Alexander’s whores, tried to take over and did many terrible things; the end result drove Zenobia away for a while. Alexander mentioned Eridian a lot to his children the short time that he knew them, reminding them what might happen if there wasn’t balance in the kingdom.
“Why is this Dorian here?” Philomena asked curiously.
“He was brought here by an ‘Elder’ of the council,” Zenobia said, though she scoffed the words. “In order to be educated as befits his station. So, that means that he will be joining your court.”
“But why?” Abeeku asked. “Truly you can’t keep him here, Your Highness.”
“Oh, I plan to keep him here,” Zenobia said plainly.
“But why, Mama?” Philomena asked.
“To keep him under my eye, of course,” Zenobia explained. “I won’t have another Eridian trying to raise up. I will have this Dorian watched at all times, so that means that you must befriend him.”
Philomena frowned. She didn’t like the way this sounded, yet she knew that her mother always had some kind of plan, no matter what. So, she nodded like an obeisant daughter and left with Abeeku.
*******
Later that night, as Matthias, Adonia, and Abeeku sat in Philomena’s chambers, they talked over what Zenobia had said, and they too weren’t happy.
“I don’t trust him,” Matthias said sharply.
“Matt, you haven’t even met him,” Philomena remarked.
“All the more reason,” Matthias grumbled. “I mean…his father tried to kill ours several times.”
“Matt, you weren’t even there,” Adonia said, tossing her dark-blonde hair over her shoulder. “You don’t know what he was like.”
“Neither were you,” Matthias pointed out. “But you can’t deny that the guy was a bad man.”
“I’m not denying anything,” Adonia said. “But you can’t judge a person by what their parents have done. There are a lot of bad people out there, but they have good children.”
Matthias rolled his eyes, but Philomena shrugged. “I say that we at least give him a chance,” she said. “I mean, everyone should have one, right?”
The boys protested loudly, but they were quickly silenced by the girls. It took some convincing, but after a bit, they all agreed to find this Dorian and welcome him to the palace. After they had talked to the servants, they found that he was roomed near the boys’ section of rooms and when they located his room, Philomena knocked on the door.
A boy of 16 years of age answered. He was slim and tall, with shoulder-length hair, brown eyes and tanned skin of someone who was used to being in the sun. His eyes looked at them all before they settled onto Philomena in a way that made Abeeku frown slightly.
“Hello,” he said. “Might I help you?”
“We are looking for the one called Dorian,” Matthias said sharply.
“You are speaking to him,” the boy said.
“Good,” Matthias said. “We will have words.”
Before anyone could stop him, Matthias shoved himself into the boy’s chambers and pressed him against a pillar, his hand around his throat.
“Matt!” Philomena cried. “Stop it!”
“I’m going to tell you this once, and one time only,” Matthias growled, ignoring his sister. “I don’t know why you are here, but you will cause no problems here. Am I understood?”
“P…Please!” Dorian protested. “I’m just here to learn to be a governor like my father.”
“Your father was a traitor,” Matthias spat. “Executed for trying to revolt against the true king. You try something like that and I will give the order myself.”
Matthias was really making empty threats as he couldn’t order a thing like that, but Dorian didn’t know that. At least Philomena didn’t think that he did. Matthias eventually let the boy go and turned around to walk away. Before she left, Philomena gave Dorian a soft, shy smile.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly.
Dorian watched them leave and when they did, he gritted his teeth in rage. It took all in him not to fight against that so-called ‘prince’, yet he knew that he must bide his time; he couldn’t act too soon, else he give his plan away. He was here to claim his birthright, plain and simple, and he was going to do it in any way possible. He didn’t care who he had to step over in order to gain the ultimate prize that should be his by birth: the throne of Sparta.
*******
The following morning, Dorian was summoned by Zenobia to appear before her in her chambers. The young man was nervous, as he never had met the Queen Regent face to face before. He had heard of her; who had not heard of the mighty woman who had saved Sparta almost singlehandedly? She was a legend, a story that proud Spartan parents told their children in order to drive them to become strong. She was the woman that any man would be proud of; she was a woman only a king could handle.
As he walked to her chambers, he glanced at the highly trained guards that lined the walls, leading to her door. A mixture of Spartan and African, they looked like gilded statues in their armor, the sigil of Zenobia of Ethiopia engraved into their breastplates. Each one was handpicked for their skills, yet no one knew what their skills were. These same guards guarded the royal children, and intimate members of the royal court; no one was as skilled as they were. They stood as a warning: the royal family was untouchable. A guard opened the door and announced him, shoving him inside and closing the door.
Dorian grunted, but didn’t protest. Instead, he looked around the magnificent chambers with wide eyes. They were truly elegant; Zenobia was clearly one to show off her wealth. Golden dining ware sat on a table in case she wished to dine alone. His face reflected against the tiles that looked to be scrubbed until gleaming. Thick, rich furs lay on the bed; the Cherrywood glistened with gold and silver beaten into it.
Movement in one of the great throne-like chairs made him turn around. A tall woman with brown skin stood up, her sharp eyes on him. She was clearly a powerful queen. The aura around her screamed queen, an occupation she was clearly born and bred for. She was muscled, but not like a man. Her eyes were silver, not grey, her midnight-black hair had a single streak of grey in it, but other than those minor flaws, she was perfect.
Remembering who she was, Dorian forced himself to stop and he bowed his head deeply. “You…you summoned me, my lady?” he said, slightly nervous.
“Yes, I did,” Zenobia said, her voice loud and clear. “I wished to welcome you to the royal palace…personally.”
“You are too kind, Your Highness,” Dorian said. “I am nothing compared to you.”
“I know that,” Zenobia said frankly. “You are nothing compared to me because your father was a traitor.”
Dorian swallowed nervously. “I…I…”
Zenobia held up her hand. “I do not want to talk about this right now,” she said. “But I will tell you this. I invited you to live in the palace because I hope you will prove to be loyal, unlike your sire. I hope you will not disappoint me.”
Dorian took a deep breath. “My loyalty…will always be to the Kingdom of Sparta.”
Zenobia nodded. “Good. I would hate to see your head ripped from your shoulders if you prove to have loyalty to the opposite. Because, trust me, my young lord, I promise you that, and I never, ever, break a promise.”
Chapter Three
King Mother Rhodogune reclined on her golden couch, as she looked over the papers in her hand. Recently, she had been in contact with the Queen Regent in Sparta as she knew that she couldn’t trust her 16-year-old son to run things. She frowned as she remembered that all he wanted to do was be in the bedchamber; he was wasting his seed. Instead of spilling it into whores, he should be planting into a fertile, noble woman to beget heirs. That is one of the main reasons she had been in regular communication with the Queen Regent.
While those within her empire might have found the African woman to be a female harpy, Rhodogune held nothing but respect for her. She did, what Rhodogune herself could not. Women within the Persian Empire weren’t allowed to hold positions of power; nor were they allowed to go to war unless they were whores or slaves. Thus, Rhodogune had a great respect for the African woman. What she and the Spartan Queen had been in communication about was the matter of marriage.
Rhodogune knew that personally, it was going to be hard, mainly because she had to convince her son to agree to the match. Darius, she knew, wasn’t going to agree to this willingly. He most likely would fight it, and then Rhodogune would have to force him to agree to the match.
She had sacrificed a lot to get into this position as King Mother and she wanted to make sure that there was a young woman that she could trust to take her place as queen and the head of the royal court. The whores that Darius normally had in his bed weren’t worth that title; they got this close to the throne because they knew how to get on their knees for her son.
No, Rhodogune wasn’t going to see her throne and her kingdom ruined because her son couldn’t keep in his trousers. She was surprised that he didn’t have many bastards running around the palace, as many partners as he had. But then again, Rhodogune knew that they would have had to be gotten rid of. A drop of royal blood in the veins of the wrong person was dangerous, as it might give people something to revolt over. It was about time that Darius grew up, whether he wanted to or not.
For now, however, Rhodogune was keeping her plans and ideas a secret until she knew how much fruit they would bear. She hadn’t seen the daughter that the Spartan Queen had suggested, but she knew of her spirit and fire, which is what a queen should have, especially in the kind of world they lived in.
The girl was 14, soon reaching her 15th birthday while Darius was 16, soon nearing his 17th. He still looked like a boy, though, and acted like a boy; habits that Rhodogune was going to break.
*******
WHOOSH!
The arrow flew at blinding speed before the head buried itself into the target several meters away. Philomena lowered her bow as she beamed with pride at her excellent marksman skills. She had always been highly skilled with the bow and arrow, taught by Kila herself, one of her mother’s friends. She preferred it really, rather than a sword, though she knew how to lightly use one; she also knew how to fight with twin daggers.