Thread: The Cost of Blood (Father and Belle)

Father Figure said What did it mean to be a Spartan? It meant rigorous training from the moment of birth. It meant being tested constantly, raised and placed within the agoge to be beaten mercilessly and flogged until a man felt no pain. It meant being sent outside at twelve to fend for yourself in nothing but your cloak, expected to survive the harsh weather and endure where no other Greek was capable. It meant a lifelong service to your people, to the military, to the state. It was honorable, it was brutal, and it was a Spartan warriors solemn commitment to this above all else. To question it invited ridicule. To fail in it invited death. Eurotas had not failed, invited no ridicule, and had not died. As a young boy he had proven himself so fervently that he had become a member of the Crypteia, the secret police of Spartan society. At age twenty-five he had distinguished himself as a pillar on the battlefield, a true son of Sparta, and a military genius. At age thirty he left the regimented barracks of the Spartan military to be with his wife, who gave birth to his beautiful daughter. At age thirty-seven he was considered one of the premier generals of the Spartan militias, unequaled in his prowess, unstoppable on the battlefield. Finally at age forty-eight his beautiful wife, Arene, passed away in childbirth to what would have been his male heir. There would be no boychild to pass his armor to. No young man to raise up his Father's shield. His line had ended. Yet he showed no grief. He showed no sign of weakness. It was merely the way the world was, merely the whisper of the Oracle that had set this path to be. He knew that his daughter would do her own duty to Sparta, would provide a child to a warrior, and that child would carry his own Father's shield into battle. It might be enough, might be enough should he ever see that day, to bring a smile to an old man's face. A face which now remained stern and resolute as he slowly soaked in his private bathhouse, his body aching from the long day of training. He had reached an age where he had begun to doubt that he would find the beautiful death he so often lusted for in his youth, no enemy ever besting him. Wisdom and experience far exceeded the foolhardiness of the common soldier. He was growing old. It was a fact not lost on him. His hands came to brush water across his features, smoothing back into his long hair, not knowing another had entered to speak with him. Not suspecting what the day would bring. Click to expand... From the moment she could understand words and knew their meaning, Aelia understood what it meant to be a Spartan woman. Born to the line of a brave warrior, she was taught her blood carried with it the fire that fueled the strength of Spartans. The sons from her womb would be warriors, generals, and perhaps Princes who would attain their glory through the sweat of their brow and the blood of their fallen enemies that would stain the mud red beneath their feet. Spartan women were not like the Grecian women who cowered behind their father's hand, or wept at the mere dropping of the milk bucket. Spartan men held iron in their hands, Spartan women held iron in their hearts. And Aelia was no exception. In fact she had more iron in her than most Spartan women. Not because she carried shield or lifted her sword but because it was she alone responsible for maintaining the next generation's honor and duty for her father's line. Her mother and her would be brother died on a bed of blood, and there was no other in their line to bring honor and glory to their house. To Sparta. So from the very beginning of when she reached maturity, Aelia knew that it was not by the strength of her blade but by the prosperity of her womb that would bring one last note of fame to her family line. And any who doubted the young woman's ability to do so need only look at her. Aelia had grown into a beautiful young woman with strong, striking features, with rich dark eyes and long dark hair that curled wildly as it fell down to her elbows. Her body was strong with long limbs and wide hips, and the girl was keen in her mental wit. Yet for all her beauty and every reason in the world to marry, Aelia had now seen eighteen winters, and there had been no marriage made for her. Oh, there had been many suitors, but for one reason or another her father had always asked him to wait til she was older. Now at eighteen there was little cause or reason to keep her at home...no matter how much Aelia might agree with the sentiment. Aelia had known her father only barely before her mother died. He had been off fighting or training, and was keen to let their mother raise her. But after her death, Aelia was all her father had - and she had to admit, she doted on him. From long hours into the night reading him poetry, or taking care to always ensure he had his favorite wine at the end of the week, it was the little things that Aelia could do that she knew meant the most to him. And now as that way of life was coming to its natural end, Aelia couldn't help but feel she would miss him...and wondered who would look after him now? A wealthy warrior by the name of Damianos had been actively seeking her hand for some time now, and had heard that she had come of age. Aelia received his letter this morning, claiming how he intended to ride to their estate in a few days' time to formally pay her suit. She knew her father would want to know as soon as possible. Learning that he was in the private bath, she left the letter on the desk and turned to walk into the secluded area. The water here was warmed by a natural hot spring beneath the ground, and so when she opened the door she was greeted by a rush of hot steam. Aelia smirked to herself and quietly walked up to where her father sat with his back to her. A mischievous smile touched the corners of her rosey lips as she reached her bare arms forward and wrapped them around his shoulders in a way only she did. If you spend too much time in here, father, your skin will fall off like a boiled chicken's, she teased as she leaned forward and rested her chin against his shoulder.