by Andromeda
Pulling away, he leaves the bed, walking out of the room. Iraia’s heart thuds in her chest as she watches him leave; she is frozen with fear. Never has he acted like that before...she knows it has to be because of Her.
She is the reason he's turned from me, she thinks to herself. Why he doesn't love me anymore.
Getting up from the bed, she walks to the dresser and opens a drawer. Looking through her pile of clothes, the vial that Eridian had given her sits there. Made of clear crystal, the liquid inside is green and when she sniffs it, it has a lightly sweet scent. Iraia’s stomach turns, or is it the child moving?
Iraia shakes her head. I have to do it; I must do it if I want to become queen. The destiny that I was born to have. Not that brown-skinned bitch.
For a moment, she considers taking it now, but then it'll look weird if she 'miscarried' and Zenobia wasn't here to blame. No, she’ll have to wait until the feast at the end of the week. But how will I make it look like she's poisoned me…
*************
Chapter Fourteen
The sons of people chanting and singing fill the air. Children run and laugh, vendors sell food, gifts and jewels, the priests sing praises to the gods; calling down their blessings. The Festival of Zeus is in full action.
Among the people, Zenobia watches everything with wide eyes. Celebrations for the Ancestors didn't ever go like this, but she kind of likes it. A child bumps into her leg, but she smiles down at him and sends him to his mother with a kiss. She can't wait to have her own, her hand going to her own stomach.
She's only three months, but she can't wait to hear its laugh, its giggles or kiss its chubby cheeks. She wonders who it'll favor more, her or Alexander? She frowns a moment, why is she thinking of him. Of all people in the world, why him?
He's nothing more than a cocky ass who thinks of only himself. And yet...he's constantly on her mind. In the back of her mind, she harbors a dark secret; she enjoyed their coupling. True, in the beginning she hated it, seeing as she only felt like an object to him. But as time wore on, she begun to enjoy it.
She was almost sad when Anthea took her away and then there was That Night at the pre-game feast that got her where she is today. Pregnant with his child and she knows she can never escape him. This baby will be a part of him too and what kind of mother would she be if she kept him from his child?
A gentle hand on her arm makes her turn around and see Srax, who smiles at her. He had brought her here and she smiles back. She has an attraction to him, that is true, but it's not as strong as her feelings with Alexander. She'll freely admit it to herself; she has strong feelings for him in the romantic sense. She can't say she loves him...it's too soon, but it might turn to love if he ever learned to grow up and be a king rather than a spoiled child.
"Enjoying yourself?" Srax asks her.
"Very," Zenobia says as they walk through the crowds. "I've eaten so much food I think I'll burst!"
Srax laughs and wraps his arm around her waist and rubs her stomach before looking in her eyes. "Zen...can we talk plainly for a moment?"
"Of course," she says with a nod.
He draws her to a quiet place and looks into her eyes. "Zen..." he says slowly. “The day that I saw you in the arena...I knew that there wasn't a woman in all of Sparta who could match you…"
Zenobia starts. "S... Srax, wow, that's um..."
He blushes and takes her cheek in his hands and pulls him to her, pressing his lips to hers. Zenobia freezes; she neither kisses back nor pulls away. She doesn’t know what to do...until a sound next to her makes her pull away.
A lean shape stands in shadows and when he steps into the touch light, Zenobia gasps softly. "Alexander."
Alexander looks to Srax with cold eyes, but when he turns to Zenobia, his eyes have nothing but hurt behind them. He cares for this woman, the mother of his child, but his feelings are...complex. He cares for Iraia and while she got with child first, it should make her the chief candidate for his queen as the Council is making him choose soon. But...there is something about her.
However, when it comes to Zenobia, it's the complete opposite. His feelings for her are genuine and he deeply regrets how they met and how she got in this situation; they seem too far gone to ever start anew.
"I see you've found someone to replace me in my son's life already," Alexander says coldly.
Zenobia stands to her feet. "Alexander...that's not..."
He turns and stomps off and she follows him, grabbing his arm before he can get far.
"Alexander, stop," she says. "P... Please..."
He turns to her with cold eyes, his voice dripping with fury. "I have nothing to say to you."
"Then listen," Zenobia says. "Alexander...I'm...I'm confused. I have feelings for Srax, but with you...it's something else. I... I don't know what it is, but...for the sake of our child, I'd like to make things work, but..."
Alexander cuts her off sharply and presses his lips to hers. Sparks shoot through her body, a strange buzzing spreading through her veins and soul; her head spinning. This is unlike any kiss she's ever felt with Srax. She cups his head, pulling him closer, kissing him deeper. A groan rumbles in his throat, his arousal coming so quickly that it's painful. His hand slides under her gown, squeezing her thigh and she moans softly. He would have taken her then and here, showing her how much she really means to him, when a soft footfall behind them, makes him pull away.
"Iraia?" Alexander says surprised. "What are you doing here?"
"I... I was looking for you," the servant girl says, her sharp eyes staring at Zenobia for the first time. "One of the Council members wants you."
Alexander nods and looks to Zenobia, who nods back to him.
"I'll be fine," she says. "It's... it's about time that Iraia and I talk anyway."
Alexander nods and kisses her forehead, but only rubs Iraia's stomach before rushing off; leaving them alone.
"Listen... Iraia," Zenobia begins. "I... I don't want there to be strife between us. Our children will be siblings and... we need to be nice and..."
Her words are cut off by a sudden pain in her cheek. She's frozen in shock and it takes a moment for her to realize what just happened. Iraia...Iraia just slapped her!
Iraia looks to Zenobia with cold eyes. "I'm not going to lower myself to talk to a bitch like you," she growls. "I am going to be Queen of Sparta and I will not let anything, or anyone, get in my way. Either it be you or that bastard."
Turning sharply on her heel, she flounces off. Zenobia is frozen in shock. That woman...that woman just slapped her! She wants to march over and tear her head off, but she has to control her temper for the sake of her baby. Sighing, she walks in the opposite direction.
Iraia is fuming, her blood boils as she walks blindly through the fair grounds and to the palace; tears blur her eyes.
He loves that girl, she realizes. He loves her and not me! I have to be queen! I can't let anything stand in my way!
Suddenly, she remembers the bottle and nods. Rushing to her rooms, she digs through her things and finds the bottle and gets a dagger. Running to a lone spot in the fields, but not far enough, she begins to cut and tear at her clothes and then herself. Then, taking a deep breath, she cuts herself deeply in the leg, but not deep enough to bleed out and kill her. Dropping the bloody dagger at her side, she opens the bottle and drinks the whole thing. Taking a deep breath, she knows that all she has to do now is wait.
*************
Inside a darkened room, a woman looks at herself in the mirror with great confusion. Her skin is painted gold, her outfit is made of pure white sleeveless linen; it mainly stops at her upper thighs and then splits off in a sort of loincloth. A gold belt wraps around her waist, a golden armband on her upper arm, an almost crown-like hair decoration. In her hands sit a white and gold mask that covers her whole face, her long black hair is bushes out, flowing down her back and framing her face.
Inside the palace, a man stands still as slaves paint his body i
n gold paint. A white and gold kilt is around his waist, leaving his chest bare. His long auburn hair is loose, a golden headband pushing them back. Once done, the slaves hold up a gold mask before backing out of the room.
Inside her rooms, another woman applies her last line of silver makeup before looking at herself in the mirror. Painted silver like a fish, the white and silver gown flows down her like water, and hugs her curves. Smiling to herself, she puts on her silver mask.
A tall man looks at himself in his mirror. He looks like a Spartan statue with his painted bronze skin and mask, tan colored kilt and amber studded belt.
All four have a big night, each is getting ready to participate in the final event of the festival. The Grand Dance. All of the noble class dress up in masks and dance before the gods and feast. Then, if they wish, they can move to more private rooms within the temples and any children conceived this night will be blessed by gods. This is the only night where you may sleep with whomever you wished. Strong children will be given and if the woman is either a maid or married, the child's father will be Zeus.
As the masked forms make their way to the temple, the woman in white and gold glances around nervously, but knows that she will be alright. The men and women make their separate circles and wait. As the circles are made, the priests begin to chant and pray to the gods.
"My Lords!" they shout. "May these of noble blood have your blessings! May those who conceive be strong and worthy to carry our future warriors!"
Clasping hands, the men and women begin to move slowly, softly humming their songs until they begin to belt it out. The women twirl around, blinding visions of white, gold and silver; their limber bodies moving with grace. The men move with blinding speed, clapping their hands and stomping their feet as they sing.
The woman in silver moves with the women, moving with such grace and fluid movements she could be mistaken for a water nymph. She already catches the eye of one man in particular: the man in bronze. He tries to move toward her, dancing his way through the lines until he nears her and taps her shoulder. The woman in silver smiles up at him, bashful blue eyes, her dark brown ringlets looking black in the torchlight. He grasps her hip and pulls her to him, looking into her eyes and she doesn't pull away.
Meanwhile, the man in gold sees them and his face falls behind his mask until a woman in gold catches his attention and he is transfixed. She leaps in time of the music, spins and even grasps a tambourine, its metal rings clattering in tune of the music.
Her, he realizes. I want her.
He dances through the lines and when he reaches her, he grasps her hip and pulls her close. The woman's grey eyes look into his green ones, her thick black hair gently blowing in the breeze. As they stare into each other's eyes, both couples know what they want; no, what they need.
*************
The man in gold leads his woman to a covered cabana, the scent of orange blossoms is thick in the air as the shimmering white and red veils blow gently in the breeze. Across the courtyard, the man in bronze leads his woman in gold to a similar cabana, but instead of white and red, it's light brown and green.
Slowly, almost instantaneously, both couples survey each other, the women studying their men, but there are no regrets in their eyes. Each one knows that they picked the right person and no matter what they will not turn back.
In a single fluid movement, they move toward their partners, the men grasp their women. Though they are wearing masks, they can't kiss, but they don't need to; kissing isn't what they want. They want sex, to make love and with their loose outfits, it isn't that hard.
The man in gold scoops his woman in his arms and carries her to the bed where he gently lays her down. Removing his kilt, his manhood stands proud and at attention. The woman slowly pulls her dress up, because of the splits at the sides, it's easy and he has easy access to her lower lips. Slowly crawling up her body, he trails his fingers down her arms and waist slowly before looking into her eyes. He aligns himself with her entrance and with a single fluid movement, he slides inside her.
The woman in gold moans behind her mask deeply, and the man in gold groans. She is perfectly tight and warm and he almost smiles behind his mask as she grips the silken sheets in her hands.
Across the courtyard, the man in bronze pulls his woman in his lap, pulling her dress out of the way as she spreads her legs and slowly slides him inside her. The woman moans deeply, throwing her head back as she feels him enter her inner depths and she smiles, slowly moving her hips.
The man in gold groans on top of his woman, moving his hips slowly as their bodies move in perfect sync and rhythm. They move as if they are dancers, knowing what the other will do. Sighing softly, the woman in gold wraps her legs around his waist, but keeps them open at an arch, allowing him to push deeper within herself.
The man in bronze groans behind his back, his head thrown back as his woman moves her hips faster, bouncing to push him deeper within her; to give them the pleasure they so greatly crave.
Both couple's breathing become erratic, panting and groaning as their feelings tie them faster. Neither knows what the other couple is doing all they know is what is happening with them, within them.
The man in bronze grunts and picks up his woman, pulling her from being on top of him and putting her on her hands and knees. Grasping her waist, he pounds into her from behind, their loud groans and moans being carried in the wind.
The man in gold rolls over so that his woman is pressed against him, her back to his front. Lifting one of her legs, his thrusts become hard and passion filled. The woman in gold crying out with pleasure as his hand slides down and grasps her love pearl, rubbing it furiously. Her voice lost in the loud crackling of the fire.
Both women suddenly feeling a tightening within themselves, the men feeling a tightening within their sacs and they double their efforts, working to bring everyone to a shattering release.
The woman in silver throws her head back and cries out in release, her body shuddering as her inner walls clamp around him. The man in bronze groans loudly, slamming into her one last time before he pours into her, filling her with his seed.
Across the courtyard, the woman in gold and the man in gold also reaches their climaxes. The woman cries out, electric shots of pleasure shooting through her body as her inner walls hold his cock in a vice. The man throws his head back in an almost animalistic roar as he pours into her, his fingers digging almost painfully into her thigh, but she ignores it.
Everyone falls on their bed limp, panting heavily as they fall into each other's arms. The woman in gold looks at her man, her finger slowly moves up and trails his cheek through his mask as she looks into his green eyes. She wants to take off his mask, to see what he really looks like; to see the man she just made love to, and when she looks into his eyes, she sees that he wants to look at her face too.
Slowly, she reaches forward, gently pulling at the ribbons of his mask and just as she's about to pull the mask away, chaos erupts.
Guards thunder down the halls, servants scream, and torches are lit.
"The Lady Iraia has be injured!" a man yells. "Find the king! The Lady Iraia has been injured!"
*************
Chapter Fifteen
Alexander pulls away from the woman and looks into her eyes through the mask. Those grey eyes...I know them. His eyes widen. Zenobia!
He should have known! Even though her gown hides her stomach, he felt something between them when they made love and he knew it felt strange. While it's not unusual for some women who are pregnant to participate in these rituals, he knew that it was her under him. It seems as if the gods are always pushing them together, into each other's arms no matter what. Maybe it's time he stops trying to fight it and just embrace it.
Slowly and carefully, he cups her cheek in his palm, smiling as she rubs her smooth cheek in it. "I love—" he begins to say, but suddenly his words are cut off by a great shout.
"The Lady Iraia has been injured! Find the king
!" a guard yells. "The Lady Iraia has been injured! Find the king!"
Instantly, Alexander pulls away from Zenobia. Leaping to his feet, he tears off his mask, marching into the palace. "Where is she?!" he roars. "WHERE IS SHE?!"
"My king!" a healer says. "My Lord, she is this way!"
Alexander is led to a room and his blood runs cold at what he sees. Iraia lays in a crumbled heap on a bed, her body is beaten, bloody and bruised. She looks so bad he has to look away. "What happened to her?" he asks the healer.
"A citizen found her in an abandoned field," the healer answers. "She was covered in so much blood..."
"What about my child?" Alexander asks sharply. "Tell me what happened to my child!"
The man hangs his head. "W... When we arrived, the unborn was at her knees. She had lost it, My Lord."
Alexander’s whole world stops. "N... No..." he murmurs. "No! No! No! No!"
Running away from the room, away from Iraia's cries of pain, away from the barks of the healers. He needs to get away from it all!
How could this happen to me? He asks himself. To me, the king of the most powerful kingdom in Greece? Me, the king blessed by the gods! Me, the king whose seed is so strong that he has two women with child at the same time?
Slumping to the ground in his chambers, he lets himself cry for the first time in his life. He wanted that child, he wanted to see it grow up. He stays locked in his chambers, the servants afraid to knock, until the healer gathers his courage and knocks.
“WHAT?!” Alexander roars.
"My Lord, you can see her now," a healer says.
Instantly, Alexander leaps to his feet and runs as fast as he can to the room he last saw Iraia in. They cleaned it up, and the smell of fresh flowers fills the air. Iraia lays on a bed in a light-brown dress, her large blue eyes lock onto his and Alexander waves the healer away. When they are alone, he slowly walks over to her. "Iraia..." he whispers softly. "Are you OK?"
