Thread: Bride of Krypteia {Prince of Smut x LingeringDesire}

Thyreos covered the distance across the courtyard as quick as he could, but he felt like he was moving in slow motion. It was obvious now this was a trap this building was lit like a welcoming sign for any Kryptes that might have come by. And earlier, he wasn't sure, but as they had jogged down the trail he thought he had seen a figure running in the distance ahead of them. A lookout no doubt. The Helots were getting smarter and Thyreos cursed Androcles' headstrong nature and his own arrogance. While rare, occasionally Spartans were killed by Helots during the Krypteia. They were usually overwhelmed and alone, which is why most Kryptes tended to pair up or work in groups. And Androcles was in there now alone, without his partner. Thyreos burst into the first room, finding it empty. There were several doors and in the distance he heard cursing and what sounded like a fight. On his left, he heard running and doors slamming, so he turned and went into that darkened room first. Dim figures scurried out ahead of him and he sprinted into the room, screaming for them to stop. Following them led to another room, this one lit now and empty. The fight seemed to be coming to his left and he could hear Androcles' voice clearly, angry and yelling. Thyreos was frantic, trying the two doors exiting this room and finding them both barred from the other side. Turning around, he doubled back to the entryway and went the other direction. Two rooms later, he finally found his partner. At first he thought Androcles was raping a Helot, the big man was on top of a woman and between her legs, his loincloth pulled down. As Thyreos slowed, he realized Androcles was strangely limp, the motion in his body coming from the woman below him pushing the man. With a final effort, she rolled him off of her and withdrew a clearly Spartan knife that had been buried in his heart. Androcles' eyes were still open in shock and blood was only beginning to pump out of the gaping wound. ANDROCLES! shouted Thyroes, though he knew his words were unheard. The moving knife, now slashing at his feet, shocked Thyreos back to reality and he jumped back just in time. The woman that struggled to her feet appeared to be a Helot judging by her brown outfit. Her robe was ripped and askew from the fight, the skirt torn from the hem up to her hip. At that hip was a sheathed Spartan sword, the possession of which was a death sentence for a Helot. Body moving by reflex, Thyreos dropped into a low fighting crouch and readied his knife. He eyed her warily and opened his senses to any signs of compatriots she might have that could sneak up on him. Female Helot or not, she had killed Androcles, had a sword, and seemed to know how to use a knife. He would not discount her abilities like Androcles had. He would make sure he killed her. You will die for your crime, snarled Thyreos as he circled closer to the woman with his knife before him. Her expression shifted from anger to shock as she looked at Thyreos and the words she spoke were decidedly not in the accent or tone of a Helot. She sounded more like an angry Spartan woman in fact, and the way she unsheathed and held her sword indicated she was well trained. Who was she? The bare bladed glinted in the lamp light, lovingly polished and honed to razor sharpness. It brought Thyreos back to the issue at hand and he was once more focused only on killing this woman. You bear a Spartan sword and a Spartan knife, with a dead Spartan at your feet. Prepare to face your judgment, woman, Thyreos hissed back, letting his anger steel his resolve. He'd never killed a woman before and had always thought he would be reluctant to do so, but this witch seemed like one he could dispatch with no regret. Thyreos tested her, feinting and retreating, and the two of them were soon shuffling their feet in a wary dance as their blades swung in the air. Then he suddenly saw her face clearly. I... I... you! You're no HELOT! Thyreos exclaimed, dodging her blow and lowering his knife. There was anger on his face, but the rage he had felt earlier was dissipating slightly. He knew her, not well, but she was a Spartan woman. He remembered her from the agoges and their shared military training years ago. He didn't know her name, but her face and fighting style were very distinctive. He'd actually faced her before, in training bouts. STOP! Spartan, sheath your sword! Thyreos shouted, pointing at her sword. Taking a deep breath, trying to get a grasp on his swirling emotions he held his hands up in peace. I know you. You know me. What are you doing dressed like this? What have you DONE here? With the last words, he pointed towards Androcles dead body, now surrounded in a large and growing pool of the dead man's blood.