by Andromeda
*************
Philomena's eyes are drawn tight as she looks at the writing before her. Even though she is almost four years of age, she is greatly smart for her age. Picking up her pen, she finishes writing her letters and then holds it out to Alexander for inspection. Written in Canaanite, it's a poem about one of their queens and once he reads it over, he gives her a nod of approval.
"Well done, Mena," he says with a smile. "Just like always."
Philomena grins, but Matthias scoffs with a roll of his eyes. "Writings are not going to win a war," he says.
Alexander tenses and looks at his son. "Who told you about a war?"
"I hear servants," Matthias answers.
Alexander frowns. True, he wants his son to grow up big and strong, fearing nothing; but he is too young to know about war, to know what it really means. To him, war is glorified, but Alexander knows what war truly means. Death and sacrifice. His son need not know that lesson right now.
"Well, the servants don't always tell the truth," he says. "And you know what? Let's go and see Mama, I have a surprise for her."
Philomena and Matthias nod and stand up, getting their things as they head to Zenobia's chambers. She sits behind her desk, looking over the accounts as a queen should for the household. Though Alexander knows she would rather be out training with the warriors.
"Zenobia?" he says softly, playfully knocking on the door. “Might the Queen of Sparta have time for her family?”
Zenobia looks up and once seeing them, smiles. "Hello you three. How are you?"
"Mama!" Philomena tries rushing over and lifting her hands up, asking to be lifted. Zenobia laughs and complies, lifting her up and kissing her cheeks.
"We are well," Alexander says, resting his hand on Matthias' head. "But I have a gift for you."
She looks at him. "What kind of gift?"
"Come with me and see," he says with a playful smirk. “Unless you are scared…”
That does it, as Alexander knows that Zenobia can never back down from a challenge. Arching her eyebrow, she raises to her feet, putting Philomena on her hip as Alexander leads everyone from the chambers and to the main courtyard. A group of people are gathered, dismounting from their horses. Zenobia looks over them and then her eyes widen as they lock onto a woman.
"It can't be..." she whispers, putting Philomena down. "Deka?"
The woman turns and her face pales, then tears begin to pour down her cheeks. "Your highness!" she cries.
Both of them begin to run, diving into each other's arms, sobbing and talking in their mother tongue to each other.
Philomena tugs on Alexander’s tunic and he looks down. "Who is that, Daddy?" she asks.
"That is your mother's friend," Alexander answers her.
He smiles, proud of himself. After Zenobia agreed to marry him, he sent some of his best messengers and locators into the Far Lands in order to find her people; if any survived that ambush. They found a small group of them who did and were still loyal to Zenobia's father. Once they told them that Zenobia was his queen, they all agreed to come to Sparta in order to serve their princess.
Zenobia looks at him, and he sees the warmest smile to ever cross her face before she turns back to her friend, Deka. That night, however, she shows him exactly how thankful she really is...
*************
Chapter Twenty-Two
Philomena watches as her father bends over a table to look at her brother's letters. Across the room, her mother sits in front of a mirror, her friend, Deka, braiding her hair and chatting in their mother tongue. No one is paying attention to her, no one save her mother or her other friend Anthea ever does. Father is always busy with Matthias, never truly paying any attention to Philomena, even though mother has told him to give them equal attention.
Sighing, Philomena gets up from the ground where she is sitting and walks to the gardens. She’s always loved this place; her mother normally takes them here and has taught them about the several different kinds of plants and herbs. Everyone is impressed by how smart she is. She might be only five years of age and quickly nearing her sixth, but her mother says that she has the mind of a woman triple her age.
The sounds of a soft thumping catches her attention. She is perplexed, of course, seeing as only the royal family can go into these parts of the gardens. Following the sound, she finds a boy who appears to be between eight and nine, holding a bow and arrow. He is dark brown skinned like her mother, with a light fuzz of brown hair that reminds her of wool sitting atop his head.
The boy knocks the arrow and holds it up, exhaling deeply and releasing it. Philomena watches in fascination as the arrow goes flying, landing dead in the center of a target not far away. The boy nods to himself in satisfaction, looking up as she approaches.
Quickly he bows to the ground. "My princess," he says. "I did not know you were there."
Philomena waves away his bow. Her brother Matthias and father might enjoy it, but she doesn’t not like such formalities as she sees it separates her from her people. "Do not bow," she says. "I see no reason for it."
The boy stands to his feet and looks up at her, his amber eyes reminding her of sold gold and smiles. "You are like your mother. My mother says so."
Philomena tilts her head to the side. "Who is your mother?"
"Deka," he says, naming Zenobia’s best friend from childhood.
Philomena remembers a boy coming with her and the others when they first came two years ago. This must be him.
The boy stands back up and holds out his hand to her. "I am Abeeku."
"Philomena," she says, reaching out to shake his hand. "Though I like Mena."
The moment their hands touch, a strange spark shoots throughout Philomena’s body and weird tugging at her gut. When they pull away, she looks down at her hand and then him.
Smiling, he holds out the bow to her. "Have you ever tried to?"
She shakes her head. "Father says I'm still too young to." Though he lets Matthias do whatever he wants...
Abeeku looks around. "Well, your father isn't here right now. Come, I'm sure one lesson won't hurt you."
Philomena looks at the bow and frowns a moment. Matthias is known as the trouble maker, yet the favorite of Father mainly because he is a boy. Maybe she can show him that she too has some skill besides her smarts. With a trembling hand, she takes it with Abeeku smiling.
"OK, knock it and show me how good your aim is," he instructs her.
Taking the bow, she nocks it, though it moves when she tries to get it straight, before pulling back the string. When she releases it, she yelps as it snaps against her arm, leaving a red mark. The arrow flies, but instead falls far away from the intended target. She can hear Abeeku starting to laugh, but then stops when she turns to face him.
"Your form is terrible," he says. "And you closed your eye."
"What's wrong with closing my eye?" she asks, rubbing the mark on her arm.
"It messes up your vision," he explains. "You need to keep them open in order to get a clearer shot. Also, you need to fix your form. You are too stiff; loosen up your muscles just a bit." She tries copying what he did, but he shakes his head. "No, that's my stance, you have to figure out your own stance, Princess."
"Don't call me that," she lightly snaps.
"Why?"
"It makes me feel...strange."
He looks at her. "Fine then...Mena. You have a lot of training to do, but I'm sure you will get it soon. Though I'm sure you will make a wonderful archer."
*************
It’s early in the evening when she heads back into the palace with Abeeku to go and eat there evening meal. Philomena has to rush to her chambers and change first, however, as she’s covered in sweat and dirt. Washing herself in the basin, she slips on a fresh tunic before rushing to the dining hall. Of course her family is already there and as she runs up the stairs of the dais to her seat, Alexander looks at her and frowns.
"Late, Mena?" he asks in his deep voi
ce.
"I'm sorry," she says. "I got caught up in the gardens."
"Digging around in the dirt, little sister?" Matthias chuckles. "That's not very comely for a royal princess."
Philomena shoots him a look. "I'm more than just a princess, Matt."
He rolls his eyes. "Oh, you're right. You're also just a girl."
"That is enough, Matthias," Zenobia snaps, her grey eyes narrowed in disapproval. "You will stop this senseless teasing of your sister this instant."
Philomena breathes a sigh of relief, as she takes her seat and a plate of food is pushed in front of her. As she eats, however, she can see her father turning to her mother.
"You should let them fight it out," he whispers to her. "Such things make strong children."
"I will not have my children attacking at each other like a pack of wolves," Zenobia snaps back. "And Mena is right, she is not just a princess."
"She needs to know her place, though," he says. "As a Princess of Sparta, it is her duty to represent us. Already now I have fathers of princes asking for her hand."
Philomena’s ears prick up at this, even though she pretends to not pay attention and eat her food. Zenobia, however, hisses like a cat at such news.
"Our daughter will not be bought and sold like she is cattle; she has double the royal blood in her veins than most people and will be treated as such,” she snaps. “When it comes to her marriage, though, such talk will come later. I will pick her husband. Do you understand?"
Like always, Alexander smiles at her sharpness and takes her hand, pressing it to his lips for a kiss. "You always are as fierce as a she-wolf, my love," he says. "Of course, you will."
Zenobia nods and offers him one of her dazzling smiles before pressing her lips to his for a quick kiss before turning back to her food. As for Philomena, however, she’s suddenly lost her appetite.
She knows that princesses married more so for the matters of state than love, but she does want that—love. Her parents have it. It's legend in the palace how her mother, who was born a royal princess from the Far Lands, became a slave for her father. She won her freedom and later fell in love with him and became his queen. Love is a rare thing she knows, but if it’s out there, she wants it.
Looking up, Philomena spots a figure in a light-pink silk gown and veil, making her way through the crowd, offering drinks and other things. Roshni. Philomena knows who she is, a Persian slave given to her father by Xerxes, the Persian king. He offered her to him as a bed slave, but instead, Father put her to work in the kitchens, knowing that her mother isn't exactly the kind of woman who likes to share.
However, there is something about this woman that makes Philomena’s skin crawl. Whenever she looks into those dark blue eyes, she feels herself drowning, and not in the good way. She never says a word unless spoken to, not really seen unless summoned, but there is something about her that isn't right. Philomena is a smart enough girl to know when someone is hiding something, and she plans to find out exactly what it is one way or another.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Raising from her bed, Zenobia walks to the window and pulls apart the curtains. The early morning sun floods the chambers as she breathes in the fresh air. Before her are miles of lush rolling hills, the sparkle of lakes in the distance and so much more. Beyond that is jungles, deep, rich jungles that she can't wait to explore and see what lies in store.
She isn’t in Sparta anymore; the whole royal court is instead in a city far from it, in order to meet with this Xerxes of Persia. Finding a neutral city at the border they arrived to not long ago, and are now just waiting for the Persian King.
In the bed, Alexander groans and lifts his sleepy head up. "Will you close those damn curtains? It's too early in the morning for all that sun!"
She grins at him. "Why are you so tried? I'm perfectly fine with a spring in my step."
"I don't know why," he grumbles, getting up and walking to her. "I thought that you'd be a bit sore after last night..."
Blushing, she swats at him playfully. "Will you be silent! Someone could hear you!"
"Hear what? Hear me saying how much I love my queen?" he chuckles, pulling her into his arms.
Laughing, she presses her lips to his. The last couple of years have been like a wave for her—sometimes she has her high moments and sometimes she has her lows. The nobles are beginning to know their place when it comes to her, which is a high moment, however, a low moment is having to deal with Alexander and his constant desire for another child.
Alexander breaks the kiss as if reading her mind, and grins. “Do you think we made a child last night?" he asks.
Instantly, Zenobia’s face falls and she sighs. Since the wedding, they, though it’s mainly him, have been trying for another child, and she has kept up with her Stoneseed root. She’s just not ready for another child right now and the twins are still young, still babies in her eyes. Alexander won't hear it, and she means it in a literal sense. Every time she tries to tell him that she’s not ready, or brings up the topic of maybe pulling out, he gets all offended and asks her “So you don't want my child then?” While it hurts her that he thinks this way, she can't help that she’s not ready for another child; and him trying to force one on her isn't helping.
The feel of his lips on her neck, while his hands roam over her body, breaks her from her thoughts and she pulls away. "No," she says softly, shaking her head. "Alex, I don't want to right now."
He frowns and pulls her back. "But I want to...I know you do too..."
"No, Alexander, I don't," Zenobia says firmly. "And when I stay stop, you need to stop. Just like I don't want another..."
He cuts her off sharply. "This again? About another baby?"
"Yes!" she snaps. "This again. I have told you that I'm not ready for another one."
"The kingdom needs another child," he says. "I've been telling you this for years..."
"And that's all I am?" she shouts, putting her face close to his. "A pot for you to plant your seed? See, this is exactly why I've been taking..."
Instantly, she shuts her mouth, as she realizes that she’s about to tell him about her tea; but Alexander, sharp as ever, picks up on what she was hinting at and his eyes narrow.
"What did you just say?" he growls.
Zenobia exhales deeply; she can't hold it back anymore. Raising her eyes to his, her own narrow. "I've been taking Stoneseed tea," she confesses. "It stops me from having a child. It’s what I took when I was a slave…"
"And you thought it was OK to take this? Without asking me?" he asks.
She arches an eyebrow. "Firstly, you're not exactly the 'listening' type, Alexander. Secondly, it's my body; I should have a choice on what happens to it. You didn't have to carry them, I did! You didn't wake up with back pain, I did! You didn't almost lose them twice, I did!"
"None of that matters, Zenobia!" he roars at her. "You are so selfish right now!"
"I'm selfish?!" she yells back. "I'm the one who is selfish? You are the one who is selfish! Always have and always will be!"
Shoving past him, she marches out the room, needing to get away from him. Climbing to the top of the palace to feel the warm sun, she sighs softly, trying to clear my mind.
How dare he call me selfish after all that's happened to me, after all I’ve been through; he calls me selfish?!
The sound of horns blowing catches her attention and she looks down. An escort of no less than fifty guards mounted on horseback surround a large party of people that can only be the Persians.
She can see several carriages that must be carrying the women as well as carts carrying their items. A striking man leads the progression. Though he is surrounded by guards, she can tell that he is Xerxes; she can sense the power radiating from him even from this far away. This is going to be an interesting meeting.
*************
Deka pins the last curl in place and then nods. "You look beautiful like always, My Lady."
Tonight is the welcome feas
t for Xerxes, his queen and some of his officials. Zenobia is dressed in a lavender and gold dress that shows her arms and dips down to reveal her back with a train and almost 'cloak' on her shoulders. Her mother's necklace sits around her neck, her hair piled high on her head with stringed diamonds in it.
"Thank you, Deka," Zenobia says sadly.
"Is something wrong?" Deka asks.
"No," Zenobia says, shaking her head. "No, I'm fine."
Deka frowns. "You can't hide anything from me, your highness. Tell me what is wrong."
"I told Alexander about the Stoneseed tea."
Deka’s eyes widen. "I'm guessing the king wasn't too happy to hear that."
"No, he was not. He called me selfish for not telling him. But was I? I mean I tried over and over to tell him that I just wasn’t ready for a child...but he always shut me down."
Deka rubs her back. "I can't imagine to know how you feel, but think about it from his point of view."
"I have tried, Deka, but...it's hard. I have been through so much...but I still love this man. But every time that I try to open myself to him, he does something stupid."
Kneeling before her friend, Deka takes her hands and looks into her eyes. "Highness...let me tell you about what I've learned in my marriage to my husband. Yes, we are not royals, and I know you guys like to act as if you are above it all, but in reality, you are just like the rest of us. When you marry someone, you give up all the I's for an Us. When you marry, you become one."
Zenobia bites her lip as she thinks over Deka’s words. She is so right. Maybe I was a little bit selfish, but I tried over and over to tell him that I wasn't ready for another child, but...I guess I could be the bigger being and tell him I'm sorry.
They leave her chambers to walk to the feast hall, where she sees Alexander and Xerxes sitting on the main dais with some of the officials on both sides. Zenobia notices also...no women were at the table with them. As she approaches Alexander, he looks up from where he was talking to the king and stands to his feet.