Hymn to Parthenia

by GodofCalamity

This is a short story I wrote, it's set in ancient Greece and follows the story of a man who dies in battle, the rest of the story is his flashback of the events leading up to his death. Hope you enjoy it, it's my first posting.

Glossary

Aphrodite - goddess of love and beauty
Arachne - Mortal woman, greatest of weavers. Athena used a potion made by Hecate to turn her into a spider.
Ares - God of war, he represents the violent, ruthless and untamed side of it, in contrast to his counterpart, Athena.
Athena - Goddess of wisdom and strategy
Asteria - personification/goddess of the stars
Boreas - The north wind
Eos - personification/goddess of dawn
Eros - God of love, in Roman he is known as Cupid
Hades - God of the underworld
Hera - Goddess of women and marriage
Hibiscus - A type of flower
Lelantos - Titan god of air, hunter and stalker of prey. His name means "to escape unnoticed", "move unseen" or "go unobserved".
Nyx - personification/goddess of the night
Oceanus - personification of the ocean, he also took the form of a Titan, as did the other personifications (either being titans or gods).
Oranos - personification/god of the sky
Poseidon - God of the sea
Selene - personification/goddess of the moon
Tartarus - the deepest pit in the underworld
Thanatos - Personification of death
Thermoplae - Meaning "Hot Gates", this place is where a battle happened between the men of King Leonidas and the men of Xerxes of Persia.

Chapter One

I lay there, upon the cold, stone floor of the burning city. The life was slipping away from me slowly; I looked side to side and saw the lifeless remains of those I had battled with. The sky was painted crimson, either from the blood red haze over my eyes or from the gaze of Ares watching as war raged upon the blazing soils of Thermopylae. The light was fading and I struggled to stay alive long enough for someone to find me. Thermopylae was devastated, the city was scorched with fire, and somewhere in the heavens Hera wept for the dead, and beneath the earth in deep hopeless Tartarus, they passed unto the dominion of Hades - Lord of those who are no longer living. My vision now began to dwindle as a far-away flame does in the night and with each breath, the cold crept into the darkest, deepest most places of my body. I looked down to my legs as I could no longer feel them. Instead I saw the cause of my death. A cold, steel knife jutted out of my torso. Images consumed my barely conscious mind, whispers and silences enflamed my dulled ears, penetrating the shadows of my half-slanted mind. All I could think about was Parthenia, how beautiful and radiant she was in the moonlight, the night before I left Sparta. Unforgettable was the sound of her voice, sweet and soft. Never had I missed her so much. How could one mortal be so close to perfection? The city was silent now; the screams and shouts no longer persisted like knives to the silent air, but the only good thing about my situation was that I could die the death of a Spartan. Then I heard footsteps, soft and silent they were, but just enough sound reached my ear to compel me to shout out. But I did not; I could not. For I was already dead. The consciousness slipped away from me as Thanatos laid down his icy fingers and tore the clinging soul from my lifeless corpse. I thought of Parthenia and how I loved her.

I awoke early that morning, very early. More early than usual. All of the other archers were still asleep, but I felt the vigour of life run through my veins that morning. I ran briskly outdoors and smelled the sweet and plentiful air. I sprinted down towards the Temple of Athena, and washed in the basin at the foot of her colossal statue of elegantly cut marble. Habitually I would spend a morning such as this, deep within the olive grove, intently watching the water nymphs dance and sing, but today I walked over to the training grounds to begin, before my comrades arrived. Upon my back rested my bow and a quiver full of arrows. The training grounds were a vast, walled in complex with seats at the edges. At the far end was a beautiful marble decoration hall and at the other end were large targets for the Archers and mannequins for the swordsmen. I took out an arrow, fingered it and smoothed the feathers. It locked into the bow like a key. I drew it back slow and steady without blinking for a second. The thumping of my core stopped for the half-second that my fingers released the arrow. It whistled through the air and pierced the exact centre of the target. The people sitting in the seats about gave a shout. Little did I know that in the stalls above the grounds was King Leonidas and his daughter Parthenia, shield-maiden of Sparta. I gazed upon both, and Parthenia smiled at me. I smiled back. That was the first moment we saw each other.

I gave a wave to the pleased crowd, but as I did, a large hand pushed me aside. It was Paris. Paris was a very arrogant but very strong fighter. He was one of the finest swordsmen and all through the city he was known. He pushed me and spat at me. My blood began to boil and sweat ran down my brow, and a blood red haze covered my eyes; my fist clenched. I swung violently and struck him at the jaw; I paced back a few steps then drew once more my bow. I glared at him, subtly questioning him on what he would do. The King's stern face gave a slight indication of a somewhat playful smirk. King Leonidas had striking, deep cut features, as if carved in stone. His beard extended from his sideburns to his chin and upper neck. His eyebrows were thick and his head was clean cut. The King never wore a crown, but he was clothed with a solid bronze breastplate and a crimson mantle. He slowly parted his thin lips and spoke with a loud, deeply resonating voice; "They will fight." - he said smiling. In Sparta it is custom for men to duel as it showed strength and prowess. Violence was common although little did I show it.

He gave a smug grin; silently mocking me. Clenching the hilt of the bow, he fumbled around with it and took arrows from the quiver which lay upon the ground. The first shot cut through the air and hit the target just above the centre. Tension grew as the air thickened. Paris shot his next arrow which then hit the target just below the centre. He turned his head and glowered at me, grinding his teeth as he did. His final arrow hit the exact centre; Leonidas gestured in approval. At that moment my blood was pumping - the sky darkened as Artemis watched over and I strung my bow, and picked up an arrow. One slow breath stayed my trembling fingers. I fondled and fingered the arrow which I could see was tearing Paris apart. My arrow cut through the stagnant air and hit the first target at the centre. Quick and swift was my pace as I stabbed the next target with another arrow, at the centre. My breath began to slow, and my heart pounded within my chest. Everything was still. The final arrow sliced through the air, and the steel edge of the head cut deep into Paris' arrow and smashed into the target. Leonidas smiled in approval and Parthenia clapped. She blew a kiss to me and smiled a sweet smile, and brushed back her dark, midnight black hair. Her skin was copper and she wore a radiant, white dress, fastened at the waist. She bore a luminescent glow as Eos struck her shapely figure with silks of light. As Paris wandered away, brooding, my temper suddenly took control. Words ran from my dry lips as bats emerge from the darkness of a cave and I snapped, "Be careful who you wave that tongue at, I've seen smarter acts than yours be disappeared. If you keep swinging that knife all over this place, you are bound to get your own back stabbed."

I left the grounds, silently, leaving Paris to smoulder in his ruin. I ran away, back to my small home upon the edge of the King's olive grove. There I stayed until Helios and his chariot had ridden beyond the borders of the world. All the city had grown to a whisper as melodious music had filled the atmosphere. Guards patrolled the sleeping city in search of the Persians. Rumour grew of few spies entering Greece, eyes floating in the black, shadows wandering in the night. The sky grew somewhat as Selene had become apace with Asteria and the world embraced the silence of the midnight air, of sleeping Sparta.
I wandered among the slow, bristling olive trees, rustling in the warm gale of the north. Selene's light was plentiful this night and the glow of her rays shone upon the northern ridge of the city. Away from the grove was Oranos, dazzling the world with Asteria in his left hand and Selene in his right.
I stole away into the shroud of the grove under Nyx's wing and there I wondered a while. The sweet scent of hibiscus fragranced the temperate zephyr. I came to a cliffside, overlooking the still waters that Oceanus breathed unto the world. Water nymphs of legends and tales told by the hearth, danced under the breast of Oranos, glinted with the hanging candles of Asteria's halls. Their hair was silken and soft; their faces moulded with the lustrous hand of Aphrodite and their attire spun with the satin touch of Arachne herself. Upon the heath of the banks of the untouched water sat a shapely girl. Her breaths were deep as she gazed upon the moonlit waters of Poseidon. Her feet hung into them as she washed so delicately, so elegantly that all of Greece would fill with passion at such beauty; her manor and grace mesmerized the recesses of the hearts of men. Eros had captivated my soul and handed it to her. I was so much in love the one kiss from her would kill me, and I wished she would have killed me, so that I might have died in happiness. Only in subtle, abandoned dreams had I even contemplated such artistry, such refinement of human winsomeness. I knew deep down, in the depths of the crowded void that is my mind, only one woman in all of Greece could she be. Parthenia. My throat became anhydrous as I searched for words that were not there. I took heavy steps towards her, and I became aware that my attire was that of a soldier. Nonetheless my course did not falter. She turned in a smooth, quick motions and gazed at me with empty eyes.

"What is your business away from the city as such an hour? The scarred hands of a gladiator need time to rekindle their strength. If you come here on errand from the king, do not expect me to succumb to his will. Leonidas has no dominion over the Shieldmaiden of glorious Sparta."
I took a moment to ponder over the carefully chosen words that dwindled at the tip of my burning tongue, and said,
"I am not here to place restriction, nor am I on an errand of supervision. I come to offer protection. You know of what I speak, but you deny it; rejecting it as if it were a rumour. No. It is true that the Persians are here. Resting silent in the black alleys of sleeping Sparta. Of all people, I can tell you that mercy does not take refuge in the eyes of the demons which lurk in our midst."
She stared at me for a matter of seconds, looking disturbed by the news and said,
"Please take me to somewhere I can take refuge for the night; I do not wish to return to the palace at the moment for my Father hath probably drank it. And Paris, oh how I loathe him. I would action that, aside all the fragments and lost pieces of knowledge buried within that big head of his, not one small part would know how to treat a beggar with compassion, nor even a maiden with even the smallest amount of affection."
She shivered continuously as Boreas, the north wind whistled through the whispering trees of the grove. Her cold fingers slid through mine, searching for warmth as we walked through the woods, hidden under the mantle of Lelantos.