Short little thing on Cassander's married life with Thessalonica, Alexander's half sister.
Maybe I'll write more, probably flashbacks to how things ended up like this.
Eyes
Her blood had been what had made her a desirable wife, her beauty had been what had made her a desirable woman, and her eyes had been what had earned his respect.
She had his eyes, his haunting eyes constantly accusing him: "What have you done Cassander?"
The words never left her lips and never would, still she spoke them, her eyes said it all, every time her eyes found his he could see it: "What have you done Cassander? You killed them Cassander…Why did you kill them Cassander? I trusted you so much Cassander-"
Sometimes it scared him, their alikeness.
Sometimes it was excruciating. Sometimes he wanted to gauge her eyes out only to deafen them…
But most of the times he saw them as his disserved punishment, an eternal reminder.
Maybe wanting to keep her, a source of pain, so close, forever in his sight, made him some sort of a masochist. That would explain some things, like why he had grown so attached, had even grown to love, this tool of a woman who probably despised him for killing so many.
She hated violence of any kind, too kind-hearted for the world she was living in. She was even to kind to him, not letting out a single word of protest when he entered her quarters and sat down opposite of her, just watching her read, she didn't even flinch under his stare, a stare under which so many cowered.
"Thessa?"
Her eyes briefly left the pages of her book and stared up, straight into his eyes.
"How are you feeling today?" He asked holding her eyes, so much like her brother.
"Nauseous." was her short reply before her eyes left him and returned to the book.
He smiled slightly eyes travelling to her stomach; he could see a small bulge forming.
She was filling out everywhere quite nicely; she looked fair this way, pregnant with their firstborn.
"You think he'll have your eyes?" Yours and your brothers, he meant and she understood, she knew, he knew she knew…she always knew.
She looked up again: "Afraid Cassander? Afraid of your own child? Of your own child's eyes?"
Her eyes said it al but her lips settled for a simple: "Perhaps". She spoke softly; she always spoke softly as if every word that rolled of her tongue was a great secret. "Why are you so sure it is a boy?"
"Someone gifted with foresight once told me my firstborn would be a son."
"A sorceress?" She asked closing her book and resting it on her lap her eyes never leaving him: "Was it Roxana? Your Queen? My brother's witch of a wife whom you bedded? Did she tell you in the throws of passion? Did she tell you afterwards as you laid together as traitors?
"The Oracle told me. The same one that proclaimed your brother a son of Zeus."
She nodded: "Maybe our child will still be a girl". She was so clever, choosing her words carefully, not saying it, but implying it, implying it with those damned eyes: "So it wasn't your bastard that Roxana bore? The child you had killed, the child whose face you searched for your look?"
"Perhaps." He answered. "Did you like the dress I had made for you?"
"Yes thank you, it is lovely," she said politely: "A blood red dress Cassander? How bloodthirsty are you? Does the colour on my pale skin remind you of my family, the ones you killed? You're sick Cassander…so sick!"
"It was my pleasure, my dear wife."
I'm not yours, I'll never be yours, you have my title, my body, but never my soul.
"Thessa?"
"Yes?"
"Do you love me?"
"Yes." She averted her eyes, the tone of her voice sounding oddly cool.
He ignored it. That little word of hers that she said out of pure decency would help him fall asleep tonight when he lays himself down besides her and thinks he sees Alexander watching from the shadows…
Well tell me what you think I suppose
Greetings!