Here we are back in the city by the seacliffs! :)
Two sisters made their decisions... Two lovers declared their feelings... The court was set to speak of marriage on the morrow... so let's see what happens now...!
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Scene 2: Mercy
2020 B.C.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” the champion replied, his steady voice resounding all throughout the royal hall, “exactly what I said. That I am set to leave.”
King Cepheus creased his bristly brows, taking visible umbrage at the words. “But you—you had been set to choose your bride today…”
“We were to speak of marriage on this day. I did not pledge to leave this land a married man,” Rider corrected him. “And I have since decided against it. I thank you kindly for your hospitality, and wish good fortune on your family and your kingdom, as I take my leave.”
With the slightest bow of his head, more a mere token of goodwill than a gesture of deference, and to the consternation of the court, Rider then turned and started toward the heavily guarded exit of the throne room. His companions followed closely at his heels.
Chrysaor whispered in his ear as they traversed the lengthy hall. “So much for diplomacy. Guess you never were one to mince words.”
“There are no words. Not today.”
“I hope the king won’t take offense…”
“What can he do, worse than what I’ve already suffered through?”
“You mean the words of a woman, last night?”
“I mean facing the day when she has disappeared. As if she were never here. Do you know what that makes me fear? Of what’s become of her? Of what she might’ve done, to slip past so many sentries, where she might’ve gone? Having no way of finding her ever again?”
“It sounded like she didn’t want to be found,” Chrysaor mumbled.
“O mighty Perseus,” a courtier put in, taking cautious steps to intercept the champion’s path. “I would urge you to reconsider…”
Rider forged ahead. “And I would urge you to get out of my way.”
But another sound from somewhere behind him, then, suddenly gave him pause. It was a woman’s anguished cry: a sound to which his soul was more attuned, ever since he had assumed the disposition of a hero.
He came to a halt and slowly turned, to see Queen Cassiopeia and her daughter Andromeda assaulting the substitute princess, with words and actions both.
“Serves you right, you shameless hussy,” the queen hissed, ripping away the regal sash that had been draped across the maiden’s frame, the crown of flowers set upon her flaxen hair. “For having dared to think that you were worth my daughter’s dowry. Now you’ll be cast out to the streets where you belong. A common whore.”
Rider flinched as she dealt a sharp blow to the girl’s fearful face.
“Please…” the maiden beseeched, breaking into tears and falling on her knees before the king’s throne, “…please, Your Majesty, I beg of you—have mercy… please don’t let them cast me out to be abused…”
“Your groveling falls on deaf ears, wench. You are worth nothing, now that the champion has spurned your hand,” Cepheus scoffed, signaling his servants to usher her out of his sight. “Take her away.”
Were Rider still the man he’d been mere days ago, he knew, then his ears too might have been deaf to this damsel’s distress, her desperate pleas for mercy. Even when it was well within his power to protect her.
But alas, he was that man no longer.
“Wait,” he objected, his raised voice and darkly blazing glare commanding the attention of the court. “Don’t lay a hand to her.”
The king blinked twice. “I beg your pardon, Perseus?”
“I have reconsidered,” Rider explained as he began across the hall toward the throne again, “and I will hereby have her as my bride.”
Cepheus blinked a third time. “You…”
“You shall hand over the dowry with her hand, as promised, yes?”
“I…” the king stammered with an air of bemused hesitation.
Rider strode straight up to the throne, drawing his sword from its sheath, with a strident clang so daunting that not a soul present so much as motioned to stop him. He poised the sharp tip of the blade against the monarch’s bearded throat as he spoke. “Yes?”
King Cepheus sat stupefied, as still as if turned to stone. “Y-yes,” he managed to answer at length. “Yes, of course, O Champion.”
“Good,” Rider proclaimed, promptly sheathing his sword and moving toward the kneeling maiden, reaching for her hand.
If he noticed or cared how her heart skipped a hundred beats upon the contact of his skin against her own, he hid it well.
The king cleared his throat. “A grand ceremony was planned…”
“No need,” Rider replied as he helped his new bride to her feet.
“But this… this is a royal wedding, cause for celebration…”
“This is nothing to celebrate,” Rider contested. “I came to this city to save a maiden from a monster. Not just once, but twice. The other monster’s head was cast to sea—I am letting you keep yours, but I will take great pleasure in stripping you of a mighty sum of money.”
Gasps of shock and outrage rippled through the court. Yet still no soul in the hall had the courage to act or to speak out against this formidable champion.
No soul save for a famously foolish one, at least. Queen Cassiopeia seethed, turning toward the king as snooty steam spewed from her ears. “You would stand for such an insult…!”
“Hush, you royal bitch,” her husband silenced her. “It was your big, boastful mouth that got us into this predicament with Cetus. The invincible beast whom this man singlehandedly slew. Need I remind you? Having witnessed such an epic show of strength, it would be nothing short of stupid to displease or disobey him.”
A gratified grin spread across Rider’s face, broad and bright with the sweet glow of victory. “Well said, old man. The dowry, now?”
“Indeed. Please just give us a moment for the final preparations.”
The champion granted a moment, not a moment more. A pair of maidservants approached, expressing intentions to make the bride presentable, given the disheveling effects of her recent maltreatment. Rider personally could not have cared less. But the girl seemed eager for the chance to be pretty again, and he hadn’t the heart to deny her.
In the meantime, he could hear the royal couple bickering furiously in the background. “How would you like to be caught staring down that champion’s sword, counting him among your enemies?” Cepheus spat at his insolent wife. “He’s got a fucking flying horse.”
Chrysaor chuckled, where he stood close at his friend’s side, overhearing the same conversation. “Flying horse, eh? I’d wager Pegasus just might go down in history for that dramatic leap.”
Rider smiled. “Any good steed knows how to jump.”
“All the same,” Chrysaor reckoned, laughter glinting in his leaf-green gaze, “it seems the myths of foolish men may give him wings.”
With a good-humored shake of his head, Rider returned the silent laugh. “Fools indeed, to believe in such things.”
An attendant arrived to advise that the coffers of gold and fine gems were all filled and prepared. “And, of course, O Champion…” the servant introduced, presenting the substitute princess, “…your bride.”
Rider blinked. If there was any hope of love buried somewhere in his blue eyes, he hid it well, behind a hollow smile. “Of course.”
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... Of course! Thoughts? Feels? I know this is a sad day for #Cloder :'(
P.S. Dedication to @Ms_Kay125, winner of the Voters' Choice Award in the Fateful Olympics fanfiction contest for her fabulous fanfic "Fates' Choice" :D
Next scene, we'll check in with Cloe in modern-day Greece...
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