Captive Bride; Warrior of Her Heart

by Andromeda

  Shrugging against the internal emotions raging inside him, he looks at the statue. The young man can almost hear his father’s voice, scolding him to give up his womanizing ways and find a respectable woman. Alexander scoffs at that, trying to not laugh at the notion.

  His father was a loyal man to his core; he loved only one woman, Alexander’s mother and she died giving birth to him. His father hated him for it. He laughed at how the gods had mocked him with giving him an heir, while taking away the love of his life.

  Alexander can still remember when his father would beat him over the smallest things, wanting him to be nothing less than perfect. When he died, Alexander knew that he was now officially free, yet he felt something within him that felt weighed down. He uses women, mainly Iraia, to try to fill that void.

  Women are only here to give me pleasure, he thinks to himself as he leaves the Hall. To spill my seed into when I release. Nothing more. My father was a fool to think one woman could satisfy him. Once you give your heart to one person, they hold complete and utter control of you; they become your weakness. And I, Alexander, King of Sparta, am anything but weak.

  *************

  Chapter Two

  "You'll have to wear this," Deka giggles as she holds up a leopard-skin dress with ivory beads and hair pins.

  "I don't want it," Zenobia grumbles. "And he's to impress me, not the other way around, Deka."

  "Still, you want to look your best for this prince, Zenobia," Deka says, sitting on the bed with her princess. "How's it feel?"

  "How's what feel?" Zenobia asks.

  "To be getting married! The prince arrives in a couple hours! How's it feel?"

  Zenobia sighs. "Honestly? I feel...empty. I mean...I didn't choose. He was chosen for me. Besides, men are so...over rated.”

  "Zenobia," Deka whispers. "You don't like women, do you? Because I'm not judging of course but..."

  Zenobia can’t help but burst out laughing, falling on her back, holding her sides. "No, Deka, I don't like women! I just...don't see the reason for giving yourself to a male. I mean, I know in our culture the women rule, but in some they do not. I'm sure the Imfui are this way."

  "You don't know that Zenobia," she says, placing her hand over hers. "But you can find happiness with this man. I'm sure of it."

  Taking a deep breath, Zenobia nods to her to summon the maids to get her ready. They braid her hair in small sections with golden beads, dress her in the leopard robe and give her thick-heeled sandals. Zenobia normally doesn’t wear them, since most of her people don't. Only the wealthy can afford them, but she is to be displayed for this Prince Nyako and must look her best.

  As they are finishing up, she looks at herself. She does look like a doll, but it's for her people. Everything she does is for her people. She will never understand a ruler who puts himself above his people he is sworn to care for. A kingdom without people isn't a kingdom at all.

  Maybe I can find happiness with this Prince Nyako, she wonders to herself. Maybe… maybe we can be happy one day…

  BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

  The chanting of the drums summons her to her duty, telling her that it’s time to meet the prince. As she steps out of her hut, the people line the sides, cheering and clapping for their princess. Zenobia’s father stands at the end in his chariot, with his hand outstretched to her. Zenobia takes it, and he pulls her inside it with a smile.

  "You look like your mother," he sighs, stroking her cheek. “I miss her…”

  "I miss her too," Zenobia whispers, cupping his hand.

  "She would be proud," her father says, before snapping his fingers to a servant.

  The man brings a box, and her father holds it out to her. Confused, but a bit curious, Zenobia takes it, and opens it. Instantly, her eyes widen at what she sees inside. A lion-tooth necklace decorated with gold and silver beads. She has seen this necklace before, a long time ago on a certain woman.

  Carefully, her father reaches inside and tells her to turn around and lift her hair. Zenobia obeys and her father clasps it around her neck, before turning her back around. His eyes are singing. “This was your mother's. I've been saving it to give it to you when you got married."

  "Thank you, Baba," Zenobia whispers smiling, gently touching the biggest tooth, well aware that the last flesh that it must have touched was her mother’s.

  “Your mother was a mighty warrior,” her father says. “When she died…I think her spirit went into you. She is with the Ancestors now, watching over us all.”

  BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

  The call of drums interrupts their moment and they sigh, turning from each other. Time to meet the prince.

  *************

  The horse's ninny as the two royal youth survey each other; Zenobia looks at the prince curiously. He’s tall, but not as tall as she is. He has a long face, with almost feminine features. His skin is not as dark as hers, but his eyes...there is something with them. They are brown, but it's not the color it's...something she sees behind them. Fear? Nervousness? She cannot tell it. Zenobia knows that he is nervous, being 'gifted' to the enemy for peace. Normally, it’s the females that do this, but instead, it’s him in this position.

  Taking a deep breath, she climbs out of the chariot and walks toward him; he does the same. The young prince studies her, his eyes flaming with desire that most men do when they see her, but she ignores it. She’s looking behind that. He's hiding something...but she can't figure out what.

  "Prince Nyako of the Imfui!" his crier calls out.

  "Princess Zenobia of the Ethiopi!" her crier calls out.

  Zenobia nervously plays with her fingers behind her back and he holds out his hand.

  "Greetings, Princess," he says.

  "Greetings, Prince," she whispers.

  The prince takes her hand and kisses it before looking behind her. "Shall I meet your father?"

  Nodding, Zenobia pulls away and her father steps down from his chariot to greet the prince. Then time blurs. She can see the flash of a knife, her father's face twisting in surprise, the shoot of blood from his chest as the prince stabs him, the arrow that one of his guards shoots at her.

  Zenobia quickly ducks down, grabbing a spear from one of her guards and throwing it at the man who dared try to kill her. "Treachery!" she growls at the prince.

  The prince laughs, his knife glistening with the blood of her father. "Did you really think that my father would give me to a spoiled brat like you? To dishonor our family in giving up power? This was a ruse all along!"

  Another arrow flies and another guard behind Zenobia falls dead.

  "You see," the prince continues. "As we speak, my army is invading your city. The gates opened so welcomingly because of your father." He points to my dying father, choking on his own blood.

  "I will carve your heart out and feed it to the hyenas," Zenobia spits, taking a sword from one of her guards.

  She does the numbers over in her head. The odds are three to his five, but her father has always told her that she’s worth ten of their greatest warriors.

  "I'd like to see you try, Princess," the prince purrs, taking out his own sword.

  Zenobia glances to her guards and they nod. They have been sworn to protect their princess until their dying breath and will live out that promise. In the blink of an eye, Zenobia lunges at the prince, swinging her sword in a mock high swipe. He raises his sword to deflect it, but doesn't see her fist. It slams into his face, blood spurting from his nose as he howls in pain.

  "Now," Zenobia says, shaking her hand. "Let's see how much of a prince you are..."

  *************

  The cage rocks as it travels down the dusty roads. Zenobia’s hair is plastered to her forehead, her skin flushed and blotchy because of the heat, her dress stiff and crawling with bugs. This is what she’s been reduced to: a girl in a cage. Her mind goes back to the battle that changed her life forever.

  While the prince distracted the royal family, his army swarmed on Zenobia’s
people; descending on them like a pack of hyena's. Most of the warriors got cut down on the attack, but some of them were able to defend themselves. Those who survived fled into the Jungles where her people should be safe.

  Meanwhile, Zenobia’s guards and she had surrounded the prince, their spears pointed at this throat. He fell to his knees, pleading for his life; saying that if she was an honorable princess, she’d send him back to his father. Zenobia agreed. She sent him back to his father, in pieces. In the end, she kept her promise and carved his heart out and threw it to the scavengers attracted by the smell of blood and gore.

  With a sigh, she told her guards to go into the Jungle to find the survivors while she went back to their city to see the damage. When she got there, it was heart shattering. The Imfui had burnt the great city to the ground; the bodies of innocents scattered in all directions.

  Zenobia dropped to her knees. She was supposed to protect these people but didn’t. Tears slipped down her cheeks, as she began the mourning song; crying for the warriors, their families and most of all, her father. Her poor, poor father who always wanted what's best for her and yet was cut down for doing his duty.

  She was so into her mourning that she didn't sense a presence closing in behind her. It only was until she felt the dagger pressed against her throat, did she realize she wasn't alone. The man spoke some weird tongue, but she knew he was telling her to not move. Zenobia inhaled, loosening the dagger's bite at her throat and that's all that she needed. Elbowing him hard in the stomach, she grabs his arm and twists it. The man yelps in pain, dropping the dagger into her waiting palm and she slides it across his throat, cutting it into a crimson smile.

  Turning around, she looks down at him, her brow wrinkling. She’s never seen a man like him before. He's covered in light metal and hair covers his face. His hair is long, but it's a weird color, the color of tanned hide. Movement behind her catches her attention. Whipping around she sees more of them all armed with daggers.

  They bark something at Zenobia, but she doesn’t answer, their language is...weird; she’s never heard it before. However, she did not let it intimidate her. Getting into a fighting stance and when they charge, she studies their movements. They aren't fluid like she’s used to; they are tighter, more in perfect formation. Using the dagger taken from the man, she is ble to cut two down and then they switch tactics. Instead of using daggers, they switched to whips and a net and then the realization hits her. These people are slavers!

  Two of them snapped their whips at her, making her jump back in order to dodge the blow. The other one circles around, his net held up. She tries to keep an eye on him, but when one of the whips slapped her calf, she saw red. That's all it took. Before she could comprehend what was going on, the net is thrown over her, and she’s taken down like a naughty foal.

  They cheer and clap hands, stalking over to Zenobia, who spirts curses at them in her language, but they just leer at her. For a moment, she thinks they are going to force themselves on her, a stab of fear racks her body, but they don't. Talking amongst themselves, they drag her into a cage with other people, none of which are her own people, and of that she’s glad.

  Mounting one of the horses, they began a long ride. They only stop at night, then it was bone chilling cold and the only warmth the people in the cage had, was their own bodies. Some of the men in the cage leer at Zenobia, reaching for her, but after she broke a hand or two, they got the message to not touch.

  Zenoiba has no idea where they are going. Sometimes when they stop, the people were taken out and sold to passersby until only she remained. The trip seemed like it took forever, years seemed to pass by and since she doesn’t have a way to measure time; years might have.

  Her mind was always on her people: how are they? What are they doing? Did Prince Nyako's people go after them? Her mind is a buzz with thoughts, and she has to figure out a way to get back to them, but how?

  One of the things she was always taught was learning to adapt. It was one of the first things her father had taught her. So, she began to study her captors and slowly began to learn their language. When they spoke, Zenobia listened carefully, trying to find familiar words to her own. Slowly, she began to learn basic words: horse, ship, king, sword and so forth.

  She never lets them know that she understands, but quickly she masters it, and is able to fully understand what they were talking about. One day she picked up a key sentence that they kept on repeating over and over again to each other: Eímaste tis parádosi ston vasiliá tis Spártis os fóro timís gia tous anthrópous mas. We are delivering her to the King of Sparta as tribute for our people.

  *************

  Chapter Three

  "It's that time of year again," Titus says with a groan. "Tribute season."

  Alexander turns to man before him. "Thank you for the golden statues of myself...I'm sure I'll find some place to place them."

  The Ambassador from Egypt bows to Alexander and steps away, who nods to the guards as they wheel the golden statues away. Groaning, the young king sits back on his throne.

  In a whole, Sparta is small, it is a city-state, but its reach is wide. Controlling almost everything from Black Sea to the Aegean Sea and deep inland; it’s the most powerful country in the world. Well, the Egyptians sometimes dispute that claim, but they are Sparta’s allies. The people within have to send Sparta tribute once a year, and that's what Alexander’s stuck in now. He is forced to sit here, looking stern while people talk about nonsense; when he’d much rather be in his bedchambers with Iraia, rolling in the sheets.

  "How much longer?" he whispers to Titus.

  "The last one is the Hittites," Titus whispers back. "I hear they have something good."

  Alexander nods and turns back to watch as a large covered cage is wheeled into the center of the room, causing all in the court to whisper.

  A man steps forward and bows to the king. "Great King, we bring to you for the attention and delight…an exotic treasure taken from faraway lands..."

  Murmuring fills the room and Alexander will admit, he’s intrigued. He leans forward on his throne and nods for the man to continue. The man nods to two other men who grip the edges of the covering and yank it off. Gasps fill the room as everyone sees what's inside. A woman. She's hard to see because she's huddled in the back of the cage and the man reaches down, picking something up. A rope?

  He yanks the robe and the woman yelps as she's yanked forward and out of the cage. She slowly stands up, panting heavily as her eyes roam the room. Alexander’s jaw drops. She’s the most beautiful women he’s ever seen. She's tall, and lean like a deer. Her skin is the color of brown sugar, her long black hair falls in tight curls down her back, framing her heart-shaped face. Her gray eyes pierce the soul of everyone she glares at. It's then that he notices her outfit.

  A loose fitting gown that's divided in two parts – half wrapped her breasts the other half wrapped her waist – hugs her body, showing perfect curves. The skirt splits, leaving wide gaps for all to see her thighs. Alexander can feel himself harden at the thought of himself buried between them, her legs wrapped around his waist. Glancing around, he can see all of the men of the court leering at her, and his fists balls at their looks.

  The man who holds her rope bows again. "We offer you this beautiful, delicate, jungle flower..."

  Behind him, Anthea snickers. "That girl is anything but delicate. See the muscles in her thighs and arms? She's used to running long distances or lifting heavy weights."

  "I want her," Alexander whispers.

  "Good luck getting between those thighs without a fight," Titus snickers.

  "Please, no woman can resist me," Alexander says with a smirk. "She won't be any different."

  Slowly, he stands up, walking down the dais and the man holds the rope out to him. "Allow me to...inspect this jungle flower..." He looks at the woman and slowly reaches his hand to her.

  Zenobia doesn’t know where she is, the last thing she remembers are the strange me
n giving her some strange-tasting wine that made her sluggish. They forced her into this gown, then put her in an elaborate cage. Now she’s being presented to this man she doesn’t know as a gift? She doesn’t think so what so ever.

  Looking at him, she steps close then smirks. Alexander only had moments to react before a sharp pain shoots up his arm from his fingers. She bit him. Alexander quickly pulls his hand free, unable to believe what just happened.

  "I won’t be given to anyone!" she growls in perfect Greek. "Especially not some spoiled, pampered bastard!”

  Alexander is surprised, both by her ability to speak fluent Greek, and how bold she is. However, his kingly pride bubbles within him and he pulls his hand back, slapping her hard across the face, making her stagger back a step or two. He looks at his hand guilty; he’s never slapped a woman before, but he remembers that he is the king, and no woman will ever treat him like she did.

  "You will show the proper respect for a King of Sparta!" he barks at her in Greek.

  Zenobia slowly turns her head to look at him, her grey eyes glittering with malice. "But I am showing you all the respect you deserve...none!”

  With a yank, she pulls the rope from the man's hands. He gasps as she wraps the rope around his throat and then gives a sharp pull, snapping it. Twirling around with a grace of a dancer, she makes the rope wrap around a sword and she pulls it to her. Cutting her bindings, she holds the sword in front of her with the grip of a warrior. Everyone is frozen, until they see the sword in her hands and the guards circle her.

  "Don't kill her!" he snaps to them. "I want her alive!"

  Zenobia’s eyes scan the room, locking onto Alexander’s, she smirks to him before throwing the sword. A guard leaps in front of his king, the sword coming out through his back. Using this as a distraction to her advantage, she leaps onto a table. Running with the speed of a deer, she gathers herself and grabs a hanging banner. Swinging in the air, she flies like a dove out of the window.