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k-nayee · 9 months ago

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Messenger's Daughter 300

wc: 4k a/n: video clip for the movie scene is inserted if y'all wanna see!

Traveler M.List

ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

The dusty road leading to Sparta was long, every step taken heavy with the heat from the Sun.

Your father, the official representative of King Xerxes known as the Persian envoy, led the procession on foot.

You walk a few paces behind, eyeing the skulls of conquered kings dangling grotesquely from his horse.

Having spent countless days and nights studying what you can on Spartan culture, a sense of urgency knot in your chest of the potential outcome.

"Father we cannot do this," you plead, the desperation in your voice cutting through the dry air. "Bringing these skulls will only provoke their rage, not intimidate."

Laughter erupts from the men around you, coarse and mocking.

"A woman lecturing us on matters of war?" one sneers, his face creased with disdain.

The others join in, their laughter a choir of ignorance.

"What's next, a child advising the king?!"

Anger flares within you, burning away any hesitation.

Facing the man who dared to belittle you, your voice rise with every word. "You are fools if you think the sight of those skulls will make them cower! Spartans are proud, fierce...they will meet this threat with blade and blood."

As you spoke, uneasy glances were exchanged, your words igniting a flicker of doubt amongst the retinue. But your father saw only insubordination.

"They are—"

"Enough!"

Your words are cut off by a hard slap across the face.

The blow sends you reeling, head snapping to the side as a searing pain spreads across your cheek.

You look up to meet the steely gaze of your father, his hand still raised from the strike. "Your emotional, fear-driven babble have no place here. You have no right to speak of war and strategy."

His words sting more than the slap.

"Shall I remind you what lacks between your legs? The only reason you are here?!" Your wavering frame makes him step back with a scoff of indignation.

"Put your veil back on...and know your place," he turns away, dismissing you with a wave of his hand to rejoin the men who reveled in your humiliation.

You stood there for a moment, the pain in your cheek echoing the ache in your heart.

You always thought, hoped, he would grow to value your intelligence. That he saw the potential in you went way beyond the traditional roles of women, perhaps one day take his place as Messenger.

And dare say, even respect you.

But his words laid bare the truth. You are nothing more than a pawn in his task of diplomacy and power.

You can't help but feel a sense of loss. Not just for the father you thought you knew, but for the future you had envisioned.

With a heavy heart, you reach up, fingers trembling slightly as they drape the veil over your face.

The fabric felt suffocating, yet it was a shield, hiding your stifling tears from the world

════════════════*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═════════════════

As you approached the gates of Sparta, the atmosphere is palpably heavy.

The Spartan guards, known for their stoicism, eyed the group with a mixture of suspicion and disdain.

Your father stepped forward, his chest puffed with a misguided sense of pride along with his men. "I have come to speak with your Spartan King in the name of our ruler King Xerses!"

You linger at the back, exasperated from your father spouting praise of the tyrannical leader's strength and power.

The veil's once comforting ability of anonymity is rendered useless by the guards' unnerving scrutiny.

A shiver runs down your spine once you finally pass their security, the heat of their gaze still following as you continue on to the heart of the city.

Despite the streets thrumming alive with activity, the tension is too palpable to ignore.

"Greetings!" Amidst the crowd of disciplined warriors and stoic citizens, a man steps forward, addressing the group with a sly smile.

Of average height, slightly shorter than the Spartan warriors, his presence still commanded attention.

He tilts his head in greeting, smile deepening till the point teeth show. Had you known better, you would say he resembled a wolf.

"I am Theron, a representative of the esteemed Spartan council. You must be the Persian envoy we've been expecting."

The delegation's arrival to the gate had already reached the ears of Councilman Theron it seems.

Your father nods. "Indeed, I am. We come bearing a message from the mighty Xerxes. Bringing with us, peace and cooperation."

Waves of disgust sweep over you upon catching his subtle hand movement towards you. 'So this is my purpose ? To be an offering of 'peace' incase a King needs more persuasion to bend the knee.'

"Peace you say?" Theron's sharp eyes catch the gesture and seems to understand the indication by the way he stares on you with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. "Spartan hearts are not easily swayed by outsiders. Our loyalty is unwavering..."

As he talks, his gaze trails down your figure before settling firmly on where yours would be.

You shift uncomfortably under his leering, feeling as though he sees right through the veil that covers your face.

"Let us proceed to the palace, you will have the opportunity to present your message directly to our leaders there. Follow me."

You barely take a step when you're yanked to your father's side. "Speak out of line—ruin this chance of negotiation...and I will have your tongue."

His grip on your arm is harsh, tight enough to leave a bruise, but you refuse to show weakness.

Instead you remain looking forward, lips pursed as you give him a single nod.

Satisfied with your obedience, he moves to walk alongside the political man and delve into light conversation while you stay in his shadow.

After more minutes of walking, you finally reach the steps of the great Spartan palace.

You try to look and absorb as much as your veil would allow you, eyes wide in hopes of searing everything you see into memory.

It wasn't until accidently meeting the unwavering glare of a nearby guard did you remember where you are with a grimace and found focus on the floor.

The atmosphere feels suffocatingly tense, your clattering footsteps echo against the stone walls as if a reminder of your foreign presence.

A Spartan guard approaches Theron, whispering something into his ear. He nods subtly, view sweeping over your group before settling on your father with a practiced, stiff smile.

"I'm afraid it will be a while until King Leonidas and Queen Gorgo can receive you," the Spartan official announces, his diplomatic riddled voice echoing slightly in the spacious hall. "They are attending to matters of the state. Please, make yourselves comfortable."

Your father, seizing the opportunity, steps forward. "Councilman Theron, while we await their majesties, perhaps we can discuss the matters at hand. The great King Xerxes desires only peace and prosperity for all."

Expression unreadable, Theron nods, though his eyes betray a hint of skepticism. "Of course, peace is a noble pursuit. Sparta understands the significance of such journeys and messages. Rest assured, your words will reach the King and Queen's ears in due time."

As the men engage in conversation, you find yourself drifting away to a window.

The stone is cool as you lean against its edge to take in the rugged landscape of Sparta. A breathtaking view that should offer solace, is instead a stark reminder of your reality.

'Is this what my life has come to? ' you wonder silently, eyes tracing the harsh lines of the distant mountains. 'I have no mother, no siblings, no one but him... and now, even he feels like a stranger.'

Your hands begin to tremble, the fabric of your veil fluttering slightly with each quiver. 'Once this negotiation is over...

Fear gnaws at your heart, the future a looming shadow filled with uncertainty and dread.

'...what will become of me? '

The soft patter of feet breaks you out of your solitude of thoughts. You turn to see a child—a young girl, no more than six or seven, standing a few steps away.

"Chryseis!" a voice urgently hisses.

Glancing through your lashes, you catch a glimpse of a woman, presumably the mother. Her face is etched with lines of worry and fear, trying to coax the child back to her side.

But Chryseis doesn't heed her. Instead she steps closer, doe eyes fixed on you.

Conversations around begin to dim as the onlookers' attention move towards the unexpected meeting.

You feel the weight of every gaze; some curious, some wary, all fixed on the interaction.

They seem to expect you to react, but rather than focus on the growing apprehension, you direct your full attention to the little Spartan.

Turning to face her fully, you silently admire her courage. You're aware of how ominous the black veil and attire made you appear to those younger - often assumed to be a Mistress of Death.

Yet, she stands there, undeterred.

You take a step forward, deliberately ignoring the guards whose hands move subtly towards their weapons. They adjust their stances, body ready to intervene should the need arise.

Untainted by the tense atmosphere, Chryseis extends a cup of water towards you, her small hands trembling slightly.

Your heart warms at the gesture, a sheer contrast to the cold indifference you've faced since arriving. 'She must have seen me all alone while the others drank and conversed, and believed I was thirsty...'

Kneeling down to be at eye level with her, you carefully take the cup from her hands.

In a smooth, almost reverent motion, you lift the veil; revealing your face for the first time since setting foot in the land of Warriors.

"Efcharistó," you whisper, the Spartan language feeling unfamiliar yet comforting on your tongue.

Chryseis's eyes widen, not in fear, but fascination of your appearance.

The Grecian sun bathes you in a golden light, causing the rich brownness of your skin to take on a glowing hue.

Your features are youthful: soft cheeks that seem to capture the gentleness of your spirit, while your soft lips form a smile so sweet and kind, it could weaken the hardest of Spartan hearts.

The most mesmerizing feature, however, is your eyes. They are a indescribable shade of [color], almost ethereal.

The sunlight catches in them, making the specks of light within shimmer akin to the clearest Mediterranean waters.

Those who initially regarded you with suspicion, are now taken aback by your unveiled beauty. The air is filled with a palpable sense of awe.

Seizing the moment to spread a little joy, you reach into your garment and dramatically pull out a goose feather. The large, white plume shimmers as you present it to Chryseis with playful grandeur.

"You know..." you begin, capturing her attention with a teasing smile. "I've had the honor of meeting Victory herself. She spoke to me of you Spartans..."

She's instantly captivated, a gasp escaping her lips as she leans in closer. "R-really?!" she breathes out with wonder.

Matching her energy with a frantic nod, you continue, "Yes! She told me to forever sing the praises of your strength and valor. And as a token of proof, she bestowed me this white feather."

"She commanded me," you add, lowering the feather to Chryseis' level with a deliberate motion, "to give this feather to the one who dared to be brave enough to face me. Whose heart knows no fear, who stands undaunted before strangers from afar..."

The others are silent, watching as you extend the feather to the child with an encouraging smile. "...and here you are."

You are rewarded with her excitement filled giggles, small hands eagerly reaching out to grasp the feather.

Her delight is infectious, resonating so much through the crowd a few reluctant smiles appeared from even the sternest of bystanders.

When Chryseis' mother steps forward to gently coax her away, the little girl casts a lingering look back at you.

Her smile is wide and radiant, clutching the feather like a precious treasure.

The warmth of the moment fades as tension seeps back into the air with the arrival of King Leonidas.

He is a vision of a Spartan warrior: his presence commanding the room effortlessly.

Each muscle sculpted as if created by the gods themselves. Eyes, sharp and discerning, pierce through the crowd.

You feel a flush of heat coursing through you. The attraction so immediate and powerful, it leaves you breathless.

Your attention shift, falling upon Queen Gorgo. She...her beauty both striking and intimidating. Something within you trembles—maybe it's the strength in her gaze, the unspoken power in her stance.

Whatever it is, the confusing the stirring in your heart worsens at the sight of her.

"My King and Queen," Your trance breaks at the voice of Councilman Theron. He steps to the royal couple with a bow. "I was entertaining your guests."

"I am sure." The Spartan King dryly responds, his focus and bored-like stare fixed on your father instead.

"Before you speak, Persian. Know that in Sparta everyone—even a King's messenger—is held accountable for the words of his voice. Now, what message do you bring?"

A grin spreads across your father's face. Undeterred, he extends his arms grandly towards the sky. "Earth and water!"

King Leonidas' eyes narrow, a mix of disbelief and disdain flickering within them. "...You rode all the way from Persia...for earth and water?"

He says nothing. His silence telling all that needs to be answered.

Witnessing the entire exchange, Queen Gorgo releases a scoff. "Do not be coy or stupid, Persian. You can afford neither in Sparta."

You nearly freeze in shock. 'She...'

"Wha..." Initially taken aback by her boldness, it is replaced with disbelief. He turns to her with disgust coloring both his features and voice. "...What makes this woman think she can speak among men?!"

Without missing a beat she retorts. "Because only Spartan women give birth to real men."

Inspired by a mere woman causing such a charged atmosphere, you step forward. "And yet, beneath the mountain, there lies a pile of the weak and brittle—the newborns deemed unworthy by the same warriors...What of them? Are they not also born of Spartan women?"

The weight of your words stuns everyone into silence, every eye turning towards you.

Some of the Spartan onlookers rise in anger, taking your words as an insult to their way of life. But they pause upon noticing the reactions of their king and queen.

His expression is thoughtful. While hers...she simply stares at you with a small—could it be approving? smile on her lips.

Your father's reaction is immediate.

A mix of shame and anger covers his face, eyes shifting between you and the gathered Spartans.

"____!" He snaps out your name in rage, a sharp reprimand for your audacity.

Without warning, he yanks you to his side. His grip is tight, fingers digging into your flesh with a painful intensity.

"You dare to shame me in front of these...these Spartans?!" he hisses in your native tongue, his words laced with venom.

His chastising is ignored.

You instead hold contact with King Leonidas and Queen Gorgo, unflinching even as the grip on your wrist tightened.

"Speaking out of turn? Challenging their ways as if you hold any sway?! Was my hand not enough?"

His voice grows louder, more insistent; but you are anchored by the eyes of the Spartan rulers—their expressions unreadable yet not unkind.

"Must I beat your place into you?!" He harshly captures your chin, forcing your gaze to his.

The proximity to his rage is terrifying; you can see the unbridled fury in his eyes, feel the heat of his breath.

You subconsciously shrink under his view, a faint tremble of your lips revealing the fear instilled in you from a young age.

It seems years of facing his temper and punishments in the name of 'remaining silent and submissive' have left too deep of a scar.

"There is no need for such reactions," the King Leonidas intervenes, booming voice authoritative and calm.

Queen Gorgo, stare never removed from you, speaks with a clarity and strength that resonates within the hall. "Your words are bold, foreigner, and they cut deep. But it is the Spartan way to face even uncomfortable truths. We do not fear words; we learn from them."

Visibly shocked by their rebuke, your father releases his grip and steps away.

The shift is palpable, from a moment teetering on the edge of violence to one of cautious quiet.

"Come," The Spartan King takes the attention once more. Turning, he begins to walk, a silent command for others to follow. "Let us walk to cool our tongues."

The courtyard still echo from the tension of the standoff before resuming back as the assembly falls into step behind their king.

As you follow, it gives the citizens of Sparta who witnessed the entire exchange a chance to disperse with murmurs and speculative glances.

The path taken is led to a more secluded part of the city; it is here, under the imposing architecture and watchful eyes of its greatest warriors, does the conversation continue.

Having regained his composure during the brief interlude, your father stands firm. His voice carries across the open space, filled with a renewed sense of purpose.

"If you value your lives over your complete annihilation, listen carefully Leonidas. Xerxes conquers and controls everything his eye rests upon." Briefly flitting to Queen Gorgo, veiled threat in his look, "He leads a force so massive, it shakes the earth with its march. So vast, it drinks the rivers dry."

The messenger fails at noticing the changing mood as he continues his sung praises. "All the God-King Xerxes requires is this, a simple offering of earth and water. A token of Sparta's submission to the will of Xerxes."

At the mention of the God-King, King Leonidas stops in his tracks. "...submission...?"

You shift at the steady yet barely contained fury in his voice, growing wary of the feeling of dread growing in the pits of your stomach.

"That's a bit of a problem." The Spartan man turns, corner of his mouth twitching in disdain. "You see...rumor has it the Athenians have already turned you down. And if those philosophers and boy lovers found that kind of nerve..."

Seeming to pick up on the shift as you, Councilman Theron suddenly step forward. He has a thin smile, a light and forced chuckle leaving his cautious frame. "W-we must be diplomatic."

King Leonidas silences him with a simple raise of the hand. Giving the cunning man a brief glare from his peripheral, he retorts. "And Spartans have their reputation to consider."

Your father's patience thins.

"Choose your next words carefully, Leonidas." His voice is cold, warning sharp and laden with danger. "For they may be your last as king."

It's silent. Leonidas says nothing for a moment.

Hardened gaze scanning from the envoy to the Persian bodyguards, his thoughts began to drift as the distant laughter of children fill his head.

'Earth and water...'

The freedom of his people...

'Earth and water...'

The simple, pure life they have built...

'Earth and water...'

Seeking silent counsel; his eyes finally rest on Gorgo. The mother of his child, his Queen.

In a fluid motion, Leonidas draw his sword.

The metal sings when bared and is swiftly brought to the Persian messenger's neck. The armed men in your delegation reacts with alarm, but the Spartan guards are quicker.

"Madman... you're a madman!" your father gasps, terror evident in his voice as the Spartan guards mirrored their king, their weapons drawn against the Persian force.

"Earth and water," Leonidas coolly declares in resolve. He begins to back the man towards the open well—a final answer to the demands of Xerxes. "You'll find plenty of both down there."

"N-no man, Persian or Greek, no man threatens a messenger!" your father protests, desperation coloring his words the closer he's inched to the void.

Steadfast, the King steps closer, the tip of his sword barely touching the envoy's skin.

"You bring the crowns and heads of conquered kings to my city steps. You insult my Queen. You threaten my people with slavery and death." His voice rises with accusation, each one a blow that seals the older man's fate. "I've chosen my words carefully, Persian. Your message is clear. It is that of a war party!"

"This...this is blasphemy!" the cornered male cries out, his eyes darting desperately for any sign of mercy.

In doing so they land on your lone form standing amidst it all, wide teary eyes watching everything.

But...

You're not captured?

'Why isn't she-'

"My King, please. This is madness." Councilman Theron's last-ditch effort to prevent chaos interrupts his internal confusion.

As your father's heels dangled over the hole, the King shares a final look with his Queen.

A firm nod is given.

And that's all the confirmation he needs.

"Madness?" Leonidas echoes, a storm brewing in his eyes. "This. Is. SPARTA!"

With those final words, he delivers a powerful shove, sending your father plummeting into the darkness of the well.

His screams echo hauntingly into the void as Spartan warriors unleash their wrath upon the remaining Persians.

"Leave one man alive," his voice shatters the trance you were in. You try to blink away the disbelief, the memory of him falling to death fresh in your mind.

'Run. Run away now...'

Feeling the stare of another, you look up only to lock gazes with your father's killer.

King Leonidas, the man who had just sealed the fate of your father and traveling caravan. Is looking at you.

The unwavering conviction in his eyes nearly roots you to the spot, every instinct screaming at you to flee.

'...before he kills you.'

In a desperate bid for escape, you turn to run...only to be caught by a nearby Spartan guard.

"N-No!" You yelp in fear. Desperately dragging your feet and squirming in hopes of breaking away, it seems fruitless as his grip remains unshakable while pulling you.

Panic sets in.

The closer you get to him and the ominous pit, the more palpable your dread becomes.

It isn't until you're standing before King Leonidas do you realize just how overwhelming he truly is.

His presence alone commands attention, but it's his voice that anchors you back to reality.

Booming and authoritative, he speaks. Not to you, but to the sole survivor of your group. "Tell your god Xerxes, Spartans fear no one. We bow to no one..."

In a swift motion, King Leonidas grabs you from the guard and yanks you against him. His arm wrap around your waist possessively, a stark contrast to the chaos around you.

You can feel his strength, the hard lines of his body pressing against yours. It sends a wave of both exhilaration and fear through you.

He reaches up, his fingers entwining in your hair before pulling your head back with a firm tug. Throat exposed to the cool air, your breathing becomes shallow at his next move.

His breath is hot against your skin. You feel his lips and nose lightly tracing along your pulse line, reveling in your trembling figure and rapid heartbeat.

You're acutely aware of his body pressed against yours, the controlled power in his every movement.

Fear of what might come next battles with the indescribable feeling of being so close to the current ruler of Spartans.

"Warn him," he murmurs with a low growl, face hidden in the crook of your neck "warn him of the force that is coming..."

Lifting his head, King Leonidas meets the terrified eyes of the sole survivor, "...has made a wife of his pathetic Persian messenger's daughter."

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