Disclaimer: I do not own 300. Sad eh?
I felt that Astinos should have lived so I wrote this in four days. Ha-ha. Enjoy.
My father and mother had been in love and as true Spartans, they were strong. Their love was strong.
Father had been raised like all Spartan boys, learning to never retreat. He was beat, trained, and learned quickly until he transformed into the mightiest warrior. His arms, torso, and legs were built with incredible muscle, trained so well that it was said he could catch an arrow with his bare hands, and famous for his cleverness and smart mind. A well-respected man in the Spartan army, only outdone by King Leonidas himself. Soon, my father became a Captain, eager to serve his king until a honorable death in battle. But then, Karsten met my mother.
Mother had the heart of a Spartan soldier and would have been one, if she'd been born a man. Instead of wielding a sword, my mother slew her opponents with words. As daughter to one of the wealthiest council members, she sat in lessons with other girls to learn skills for a lady. Yet, she watched her brothers train through windows and wrestled with them late at night, learning to hold her own. Evanthe grew to be beautiful but tough.
From what they have told me, they courted in secret. Father's duty to the king kept him busy and mother's family had pressured her into marrying another man. He had no choice but to watch from the training fields as another attempted to woo his love. By day they were no more than strangers, but by night... They were deeply in love. Then mother became pregnant with me, and hurriedly they married before suspicions aroused. As mother's belly grew so did the bitterness of her losing suitor. He belonged to a powerful family and rumor spread that a price had been placed on Karsten's head. Grandfather had been unhappy with the quick marriage and to a man not of his choosing, but he did not wish to see his daughter's husband harmed. He urged them to flee, to live safe and away from treachery.
And so they ran.
With a large amount of money from Grandfather, and the earnings of my father, they built a home in the outskirts of Sparta. They hid among the mountains, within a day's ride of a small village where a doctor tended to mother for the next several months.
They prayed to the gods for a son, a son to carry on the family name and become a Spartan soldier... To return to the city and reclaim our family's honor.
Instead, they had me. A small, wailing, female babe. My name is Alcina.
At the age of seven, when Spartan boys usually are sent into the wilderness to learn to survive, I found myself facing a similar situation. Father had taken me out to collect wood, something that he typically did on his own. Yet he took me with him, only to tell me to wait under a tree as he searched for a suitable tree. He never came back.
Away from the eyes of the city, Father ignored tradition. He raised me as the son I should've been. From the day I took my first steps, he taught me what it meant to be a Spartan warrior. We rise when we fall. We never retreat. Anything could be a weapon, including our own minds. He taught me many things, but I never knew I'd be abandoned in the wilderness as a test. For five days I fought for my survival, eating the abundant plants and climbing trees to escape the wolves. I made a blade from a branch, stabbing them as they jumped. My first kill was filled with adrenaline and fear.
Finally, Father came back and found me cooking the messy bundle of meat. I had seen mother do it countless times, prepare our meal by slicing open a dead animal. I'll never forget his expression when he came across my little campfire, he had been so proud of me. So damn proud.
After that, everything changed. Father taught me how to properly fight. Mother would watch silently from a distance, I never really knew what she felt about my training. Nevertheless, she did not interfere. I don't know when the first time I was able to do it... But soon enough I could hold and raise my father's shield. Something I knew to be of high success and importance, he had cheered when I defended myself with it. Though I could use his shield, he never gave me the honor of using his sword. For years I practiced and trained. My skinny arms thickened with muscle, my limbs grew long and agile, and my curved filled out.
It was when I came to age that they told me of their past. Their love and fear in the capitol of Sparta...
"Do you wish to return there, Alcina?" He had asked me. Although my father would not admit it, he dearly wished to see his King and home once more.
"Is that wise? They'll try to kill you."
"They can try," Father smiled. "I'll cut them down."
Mother laughed softly. "Alcina would have them already dead by the time you swung your sword."
He considered her words and his smile grew, "Yes, that's true."
"While I'm glad to see you both happy at the thought of returning," I crossed my arms. "I don't find the possibility of traitors attacking my father amusing."
"We did not leave for my safety," Father sobered. "We left so your mother would not be drawn into scandal or worse, into danger. We would not risk you in her womb. Now, we are strong. You are strong, my dear girl. We have nothing to fear."
"Your grandfather has assured me it would be safe," Mother added. "His letter pleaded we return to the safety of the city walls."
Even the oldest families in the village nearby were beginning to leave for the capitol. Rumors of the Persian king had reached our lands. Some said he was just a greedy man, others claimed he was a god. No matter what he was, we all knew he wished to take Sparta. I looked at my parents and considered what returning to Sparta meant. They would be home again and I would finally meet my Grandfather. It was frightening and exciting to leave the village, the only place I'd ever known.
"When do we depart?" I asked.
Father held his shield up. "When you can defeat me."
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"Curse the Gods for this woman's body!" I gritted my teeth, frustrated about my lack of male brute strength.
"'Tis not a curse, consider it a gift." Father lunged, I held up the shield. The great circle of metal shook as his blade collided with its surface.
Spinning, I swung and cut his arm. "A gift you say! Hah! You are lucky not to carry the weight of breasts."
Father glanced at his bleeding wound, the red blood dripped down his elbow and onto the dirt below. He nodded, "You may carry that extra weight, but you move quicker than even me in my prime age. People will look at you and underestimate you, not knowing what you can do. Womanhood provides you weapons no man will ever have."
Ducking, I avoided getting my head sliced off. Seeing that I was already bent down, I kicked my leg out and knocked Father down. He grunted but attacked, managing to break a slice of skin on my leg. I felt not the pain, but the anger of letting him harm me. Meeting his blade with my own, I parried his attacks and kicked his shield from his hand.
"My victory." I declared, holding the point of my sword against his chest. For the past week I have succeeded in defeating my father in duels. As promised, my family prepared to return to the capitol.
It had taken me several years to finally defeat my father, but at the age of twenty years I finally won.
Clapping, mother mounted her horse. "Never forget Alcina... Though the man may be the head of the household, it is the woman who is the neck."
"And it is the neck which supports and controls the head." I finished chuckling. "How true indeed."
"Not completely," protested Father. He didn't seem fully convinced himself, though.
"As you say Karsten," Mother said but winked to me. I laughed, pulling the leather band from my hair and setting my black locks free. I ran into our empty home and change, trading my pants and shirt for one of mother's dresses. Out in the country I may be a soldier, but my parents have made it clear that I am to be a lady in the city.
We'll see how long that lasts.
Father and I mounted our horses and we leave our home behind. We did not speak much on the ride, for there was nothing to say. The mountains faded away until they became nothing but specks in the distance. We traveled by the road, passing by fields and plains of great beauty. In all my life I had never ventured farther than the nearby village. Along with his sword, my father never let me touch his maps or private scrolls. All I knew was that we traveled southeast to reach the capitol. My parents had always described to the beauty, but to see it for myself was so much more.
"Is the capitol this beautiful?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me and ending the silence.
"It is a different kind of beauty. The city is made of stone buildings and streets," Mother answered with a small frown. "I will miss waking to the smells of the country."
"What does a city smell like?"
"Like piss," Father responds, blunt as always. "Piss, sweat, and drink."
"Wonderful," I replied dryly.
On our second day, we saw the smoke. We approached the burning village cautiously and found no one. The homes and small structures appeared ransacked, several sheep and stray animals still walked around the paths. Yet, there was not a sign of any living human.
"Father...?" I questioned, my grip tightening on the reigns.
He held his hand up, motioning for silence. Our three horses slowly walked through the main street, but we found no one. There were no bodies anymore, no sign of blood or battle, but it seemed that the people had simply picked up what they could and left. With Father at the lead, Mother and I trailed behind, looking around nervously.
We did not stop, a foolish thing to do when in a suspicious place as this, and soon enough we emerged from the other end of the small town.
Still, my father had not spoken, and I waited. We continued on our way, the three of us kept looking over our shoulders to ensure that no stranger followed, but no one trailed behind. It wasn't until we left the village so far behind that it was no longer visible did someone speak.
My mother murmured, "Perhaps their water turned foul and they fled disease."
"Perhaps, but in one home a stew still sat over a dead fire. They continued to use the water, even as they left... Something else drove them away from their homes. Let us hurry and find the next village, surely they can tell us what has happened." Father reasoned.
We picked up speed.