Julian
Where the heck is she roaming around?
"Danro!" The guardsman appeared at the doorstep, holding his spear tighter to stop his shaking self.
"Orders my Lord."
"Where was she?" I rubbed my temple, closing my eyes for the ache to go.
"She was with the concubines, my Lord. Thalia was with her too," he informed. My eyes opened at that. What's with concubines lurking around her?
Those women may be great at their job, but coming to skittish women like her, they left no chance to leave them crying.
I've lost count of times when Thalia would come weeping about their bullying. I had to change her position.
"Didn't she leave when you were there?" I rose from the throne to walk over the window beside the door.
"She did. But I left after that, just like you'd said my Lord," he informed.
The entire corridor was visible through this window. Including her room. It was designed in a way that I could get a glimpse of what she was up to when she's alone. Though she could see what's happening in front of my doorstep from there, she didn't know, I could see her better.
After all, I did tell her I am watching her every move. She should know better.
"I don't know that. Find her," I waved him off, and he left after a deep bow.
Walking out my room, I peered down the hallway to see the concubines retreating to their rooms as late evening approached. Some were lighting fire stands to illuminate their little garden that had turned dark.
Still no sign of her.
I shook my head. Danro would find her. There's no need for me to play explorer. It's better if I stick with the plan of spending some time with my mother.
When I walked to her room, I couldn't help but check every single room in the way. Damn it, where is she?
My hands turned to fists. What's going on with you, Julian Romanowski? Calm down, she's no big deal, I snorted and pushed open the doors to my mother's room.
Before I could make out the smirk spread on mother's face, my eyes landed on the small someone sitting at her feet.
Althea.
The precious collection of mother's little clay statues lay in front of her as she wiped them one by one. Not daring to stop the given work, even when I'd opened the door loudly.
I exchanged a silent glance with mother, and her grin spread wider.
"What's going on, Althea?" I crossed my arms to look down at her kneeling self.
She jolted at the voice, even more, when she figured who was standing at the doorstep. Chickening out at mere things like she always did. What a sweet little thing.
Her hands stopped working on the clay cart, and I could see her gulp softly.
"Did I tell you to stop?" Mother yelled. Althea squeezed her eyes in terror, immediately starting her work again.
"I have asked you something, Althea," I promoted again.
She looked up, panicked out of her mind whom to listen. Her eyes wandered to me, then slowly shifted to mother, hands moving around the clay cart on their own. A chuckle escaped me, but I suppressed it with the back of my hand.
Damn, poor thing is torn between the mother-son duo.
"Why to ask her when I'm here, son?" Mother started, leaning back against her gold-encrusted throne. A playful smile etched on her lips, which was hard to make out if it meant happiness or threat.
"What has she done?" I inquired when I couldn't decipher anything from her expression.
"She is your war prize, right?" My eyes narrowed at that. Althea tucked her hair behind her ear, staring at the ground. What was she cooking behind me?
Mother continued, "Does being a war prize mean doing nothing, and wandering around the palace all day? What's this behaviour of her, Julian? Not to mention she's unaware of womanly etiquette," she bawled out, irritated when I gave her a blank look.
"Who told you she's a war prize?" I exhaled.
"This little dove did," she patted Althea's head.
Little dove, huh?
You really are something mother. Giving her such an adorable name when she made you angry.
I looked down at the little dove's trembling frame bowed on the ground. Looking fearful as ever.
"Was," I corrected, "She's my court writer now."
I would've defended her, but she never told me her plan. Now, shouldn't I have a little fun scaring her? She did lie to the last person she should ever lie. Yes, my dear mother can get that scary.
"What?" she asked unbelievably, her kohl swiped eyes narrowing to resemble an eagle's, "Woman a writer? Why?!" she snarled.
I opened my mouth, but she cut me off,
"Her duty is to raise a family. And you made her a court writer? Do you know you are playing with her life, Julian?" She turned her sharp gaze towards Althea,
"And you dared lie to me, woman?!"
This time a shaky hiccup escaped her. Her eyes watered, but she blinked it away, trying not to sniff.
This wasn't funny anymore.
"Althea, wait in my room," I waved my hand for her to go out. She stiffened considerably, looking nowhere in particular. Mother snorted.
"Can we discuss this alone, mother?" I motioned to the verbal mess they had created. She just turned her head aside.
I sighed, "Althea, to my room."
Standing up, she bowed to me and in the split moment; she looked close to breaking in tears. Apparently, she was still scared that I may do something to her. And mother's harshness didn't help.
When she crossed the doorstep, I called back, "With your book!"
She faintly turned around, relieved that I didn't have other intentions for her. She changed her path to go to her room.
I closed the door and finally walked inside the room, "I see you've scared her more than I possibly could."
Mother's bitter expression melted to a bright smile, "Who is the elder one here?" she grinned.
I snickered, shaking my head. Walking to the other side of the room where the cupboard lay, I opened it,
"It's Egypt, mother, not our hometown. Though people are content after Alexander's conquer, we never know when they'll rise to protest with the changes he is making," I fetched a goblet and closed the wooden door.
"Isn't it obvious to change the Egyptian rules with our Greek ones, when we have freed them from Darius' slavery? It's the least they can do," she voiced out.
I picked the tall jar near her feet and sat on the bed placed beside her throne, "Egypt has diversified rules which extend to women having major rights. And with us seizing those rights gradually to match with the Greeks, there's a possibility of revolts.
"Now, what's better than showing them we've appointed a female court writer?" I poured the juice in the goblet and drank some,
"Moreover, Althea has been a writer in late queen Cleopatra's court, so she'll do just fine," I glanced over the rim of my goblet to see her nod, listening everything silently.
"Mhm, you haven't made more of these?" I drank one more goblet, and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, to look at the intricate jar in curiosity.
She got up and came to sit beside me, "I don't want you turning into an addict like Alexander. His mother is associated with the God of wine and look at the irony. Her own son doesn't know the correct consumption of wine."
She dried the leftover juice from my hand with her cloth, smiling down softly. Her motherly warmth returning, which she strictly restricted for me and my sister.
Stretching my legs on the bed, I rested my head on her lap. Closing my eyes to feel the rare calm that no one could give me, except her.
She weaved her fingers through my hair, "My sweet little baby boy," she whispered, leaving a deep, affectionate kiss on my forehead.
"I thought we had agreed on spicy?" I raised a brow, and she slapped my face lightly, laughing.
"Baby, you may be spicy to all the women, but remember one thing," Gently, she ran her thumb across my face. "You'll always be sweet to the woman you'll truly love," she kissed my cheek,
"The feeling will be natural. You won't have to force anything out of you to feel that," she smiled, looking nothing like the dangerous woman she kept herself as.
When I gave her a wary look, she continued, "Now, don't act like you don't know," she pursed her lips, "There must be a woman you think who is sweet, isn't it?" she wiggled my cheek playfully.
My heart thumped loud enough to be heard by me.
"I can feel your cheeks turning warm, baby," she teased, "You won't tell your mother, hmm?"
A quick excuse came to my mind, but who was I fooling?
"And don't you dare say, Caspara," she placed a finger over my lips, "She may be a sweet talker but is anything but sweet."
"Now I know where this is going," I shook my head, "You can no longer pester me to make you a grandmother because sister already made you so."
"But you are my first baby," she whined, "What's wrong with the princesses from Illyria and Greece? You rejected them too!"
"Mother, you just told to have a sweet woman. All those princesses are too spicy for my taste," I tched. She scowled to see her statement backfire.
But a slow grin spread across her face in no time, "That little dove maybe a scared little being, but she's lovely to look at. I can teach her the womanly etiquette and make her your perfect wife!" she exclaimed, her eyes shining with newfound hope.
My heart clenched. But I pushed the feeling back.
"What's with you and sister being adamant about getting her married, ever since you both have spotted her?" I asked, curiously,
"I'm assuming married people are jealous of the unmarried lot, so they drag them into this dual bondage?" When she gave a serious look, I sighed, rising from her lap.
"She isn't a royal blood, mother. Why would I marry her?"
An unexpected sadness came on her face, "I- I can understand that..." she whispered.
My jaw hardened at the thought of what she had to go through.
"Mother," I started softly, holding her shoulder to face me, "You are a royal. Were, are and will remain a royal," I stressed every word. But it did nothing to lift her face that hung like a withered flower.
"You don't understand," she moved my hand, "I'm... still a concubine to your father..." she whispered.
Father was the greatest lunatic to not take her as a Queen. A woman who had every single poise of a queen embedded in her.
"Mother," I cupped her face to meet my eyes, "It's his fault he couldn't recognize an able queen. And more than father's concubine, you are the mother of a king," I kept her palm over my heart, "Mother of the king, of the Romanowskian Empire, and that's what matters more."
A faint smile appeared on her face, and she stroked my cheek, "I'm so proud of you. Even though you are ten years younger than your stepbrother, Ptolemy, you are on par with him."
"I will always be indebted to you," I hugged her, "Who saved me when his mother was plotting to kill me when I was an infant?" I whispered, closing my eyes.
"Those were some harsh times," she sighed, moving her hand through the back of my head,
"I remember Olympias, having the same trouble with Alexander. When her husband had threatened to throw him down a cliff, chained, because he had breathing problems as an infant, and wouldn't make an able king," She released me,
"That's how we became friends. When we both were trying to save our little boys from this cruel world," she smiled.
"I Iove you," I simply said, kissing her hand.
"And I've loved you ever since your first kick within my belly," She looked at me lovingly, gingerly moving her fingers on the strapped wound on my shoulder,
"Don't forget to drink warm milk before sleep. I wonder what made you go on a killing spree in the battlefield," Her brows furrowed in concern, "You never wound yourself this bad."
"There was a bet to kill Darius, and I was just trying," I shrugged. "But that coward fled away this time too. Alright, I'll see you at dinner," I left a kiss across her temple and walked out. Not before her reprimanding me, not to get involved in any sort of bets.
Oh well, but if the bet involves her, I'll always accept it.
I was about to enter my room when I stopped outside the doorstep.
Althea was leaning against the room's wall near the door, her head tilted to look at my bed. She held her writing book in front of her.
Why has the bed caught her interest? I smirked, recalling how she had her eyes on it even when I'd brought her here during the Dionysus' festivities.
"The bed got you thinking something?" I asked, walking past her to sit on my throne. A sweet redness came over her face, which she tried hiding, but couldn't.
At least she doesn't have an innocent head, A smug smile came over me at the thought.
"Y- Yes, it got me thinking!" she said surprisingly, and I tilted my head to what she was up to.
"This is such a pretty bed," she smiled at the bed as if it would take offence if she didn't, "I've never seen one like this, with- with white curtains around it," Her sky-blue eyes took in the linen hanging around the four tall bedposts in awe.
"Pretty beds are needed for pretty things," I stated casually, enjoying her expression that turned from relaxed to flustered.
"Yes- you are right..." she exclaimed again, "Sleep is a pretty thing."
I had to grit my teeth in a smile to keep from laughing. Trying to act innocent when she was not made her all the more irresistible.
"And these curtains are needed to hide pretty activities," I explained further, much to her horror.
"I- can understand that," she willed again to my amusement, "I spotted some pretty insects in the garden, but when they get into bed, their activities aren't pretty at all," she laughed awkwardly,
"The curtains are an excellent substitute for... for hiding away from mosquitoes too." Her eyes wandered on the floor, gripping her book in mortification.
Did she just defeat me in comebacks?
I laughed to myself, "Grab a chair. You can start with your book."
She dragged a chair with least possible noise and settled in, skimming through her book. When she started reading, her little face looked eagerly at the pages, before speaking carefully. Trying not to stammer in between.
I relaxed back my head to just look at her. Her small pink lips with a hint of red moved slowly, speaking every word with utmost care. The face that looked so sweet that I couldn't help but listen to what her face did, not what she was reading.
I think I'll never be able to concentrate on what she's speaking, because of that face.
She didn't look Egyptian in the least bit. But what put me to doubt that she didn't look Greek either. Though her hair and skin tone matched a Greek's, she definitely didn't look like one.
Sometimes I thought if she came from somewhere entirely different. A world that no one knows of.
There were times when I spotted her in the hallways, looking at everything deeply. Even a small scratch on the wall. She would run her fingers over the hieroglyphics etched on the wooden hangings when it was obvious they just depicted the everyday prayers.
She would look at a mere tree for great lengths, sometimes staring at the sky as if she found something in there.
Initially, I was suspicious because it was the spy who would gauge everything, but her actions never imitated one. They were calm, cheerful and would get surprised at every little thing.
As if she was seeing everything for the first time.
Absorbing it all in her head.
"My Lord..." Her faint voice brought me back and I found her raising her head just the slightest to look at me, "I read it."
"Start the accounts you wrote when I was away," she nodded, then began reading again. My eyes not satiating even after watching her this long.
She may be an open book, but there was just something I couldn't figure out. Who was she? A woman so docile would never dare to be someone as courageous as a writer. And I appreciated her for that.
Surely some Greek women were attracted by the idea of Egyptian women having rights, so some of them left Greece to settle in Egypt, getting to enjoy the womanly rights. This might be the case with her, but still...
"I completed it, my Lord," she said, closing the book in her lap. When I said nothing, she hesitated before speaking, "My deepest apologies for what happened... there," she trailed, "I didn't mean to upset m- mistress," Her genuine worry bought a smile on my face.
"I wouldn't have been confused if you'd told me. But it's alright now. Next time, inform me beforehand." She nodded eagerly,
"And more importantly, don't get her upset. Even I can't save you if she gets really mad." She froze at that.
But I doubt if mother can get that mad at her. After all, wasn't her little dove lovely to look at?
She stood up and bowed her head, "Thank you so much for taking out your precious time," saying, she headed out of my room.
"Stop."
I could feel her fears returning as her body tensed. Turning around, she stepped back in but kept herself to the doorstep. Her head probably racing with the thoughts of what did she do wrong.
I walked up to her, but kept more than an arm's distance, "Thalia told, you wanted to tour this city?"
"Ah, yes. She said we needed your permission..." she murmured.
"Then... be ready in the morning. We'll go for a visit tomorrow to the important places. Thalia afterwards can explain the rest."
This was the reason I was practising till evening today, just so I don't miss the training time which would go in taking her around Romanos. I had even forgotten about lunch.
She relaxed a little, "That would be great, my Lord. Thank you so much," Her eyes strayed to the ground, but slowly looked up, only till my chest. Gaze flickering to my wound and her face softened.
As if she wasn't already soft enough.
"Leave your book with me," I extended my hand, "You can take it in the morning." After all, I barely paid attention to what she was saying. I needed to read everything myself now.
And I guess this will happen every time.
She handed it over without hesitation, still didn't make an attempt to go back to her room. She gulped, finally bringing a small smile on her face, "Having... food on time is... important," It took everything in her to not chicken out,
"There may be... pretty things, but health is more pretty," she meekly looked up and met my gaze, eyes wavering in worry.
In worry for me.
"Please... take care of yourself," she whispered and lowered her eyes just as she had raised.
It appeared that the more she'll be open to me, the more mysterious she would become.
She glanced up again, perhaps to check my face for any resentment, but all I could give her was a stunned expression.
How could I not be sweet to her?