AN: I have to admit that this is very much a work in progress. For years, I have wanted to write a full-length story about a female hero in Greek mythology, as these seem to be sorely lacking, but as of yet I only have a rough idea of where I want to take this story.
The first chapter is a scene further on in the story that initially prompted me to start writing this thing, but you can decide where the story can go as long as you let your voice be heard! Constructive criticism is very much appreciated, as are suggestions. As of yet I am also looking for a good béta-reader, so let me know if you're interested.
I hope you'll enjoy reading this introductory chapter, please leave a review!
They were in the middle of one of the bloodiest campaigns they had led together to date, and they had not even arrived at what was to be their battleground yet. They had been marching from the Spartan citadel towards the southern shore to meet with other troops at the city of Hélos whose surrounding villages were being terrorised by a group of pirating outlaws. What they had not been aware of was the Helot uprising that had been sparking up in the area they were to cross. The rugged terrain and the sweltering summer heat had not been forgiving, but if the Spartans were known for anything it had to be their paramount strength. It had been the element of surprise the lightly armed Helots possessed that had caused the otherwise unimaginable loss of lives at the Spartan side. A mere two Spartiates had been killed off by the large group of Helots, but there were several more wounded that they had to leave behind in a nearby village to continue moving at the speed they needed.
They had now left the impromptu fields of bloodshed far behind, the mutilated remnants of the rebellious slaves collecting flies and birds of prey to signal that any other attempt at mutiny against the Spartiates would not be condoned. Heading the unit of thirty-six was an unusual set of enomotarchs. Notably, because one was a woman, and the other heir to one of the Spartan thrones.
Sweat was dripping down Thalessa's back and forehead as she marched on in front of her platoon with Luke on her left and three of their most trusted friends marching a few steps behind them, and the rest of the foot soldiers bringing up the rear. Their course had been most quiet this afternoon. The enomotarchs had wanted to make up for the time they had spent on the insurrection and had skipped the usual midday respite.
"Do you believe it wise we to set up camp in this area, Aresteidis?" Luke addressed one of his friends directly behind them, who was most familiar with the hills they were currently traversing. Aresteidis cleared his throat of the dry dust that Thalessa felt like they had all been inhaling by the mouthful since they left the more fertile lands of the north of Laconia.
"No, my prince. I think it would be smarter to keep on marching for another short while, as I am quite sure we are very near a river."
Thalessa immediately perked up at the thought of fresh sparkling water to cool her body and soothe her burning throat.
"If it is wide enough it will offer us protection from at least one side in the case of another attack," Thalessa provided. "And I believe our water skins can all do with a refill."
"And this has of course nothing to do with the bath you have been longing for since the second day of walking, right?" Luke retorted with that insufferable smirk of his gracing his lips like it did so often. Thalessa could tell he was trying to not come across as tense, but she knew he had to be. The Helot attack had had done more than eliminate a handful of men from their forces, it had also delayed them by almost two days because they had to take a detour to one of the sparse villages in the area to accommodate the seriously wounded. After that, the squadron had been charged ridiculous prices for the food they had intended to load up on as their reputation of bloodshed preceded them. Thalessa was sure that all of them were thinking the same thing: this campaign was already leaning the odds against their favour and wondered which deity they had angered to bring this rough start upon them.
"I refuse to complain about something as trivial as a bath, my lord," she remarked cheekily. "But we must all agree that some refreshment would do the morale of all of our men good, certainly now that we are bringing this demanding day to an end. Apollo should grant us at least two more hours of daylight, do you expect that to be enough Aresteides?" Luke glanced curiously in her direction, probably a little offset by the hint of provocativeness put on his title, but did not grace it with a reply.
The burly man behind the duo confirmed, and so Luke decided that this would be the course to take. The sun was dangerously close to touching the horizon when the rocky shores of a fast streaming river were spotted by one of their scouts, but they had just enough time to set up camp and start some fires to warm up their dinner. Meat poached the day before was put on the spits and the otherwise considered bland meal and wine tasted exquisite after the long distance they had covered that day.
The last rays of sunlight had long since disappeared behind the horizon as Thalessa made her way through the darkness after she had taken her fill of the roasted meat, careful not to trip on the rocky shore that was so unforgiving of mistakes, climbing down some boulders to reach the softly splashing water. Quickly she stripped off her remaining armour and clothes to then fully immerse herself in the crystalline water that was so much colder than the sweltering summer air around her. In this moment where she felt she was in her most pure form she prayed to the huntress Artemis and the glorious Niké for a successful campaign, staring up at the night sky, hoping that this might strengthen her connection to the goddess of the moon. After cleaning her dark blonde tresses she climbed back onto solid ground where she once again hoisted up her garments and returned to the encampment. Moving closer, walking past one of the soldiers on guard duty, the songs and laughter of their men greeted her from the direction of the fires. Most of them would sleep under Nyx's skies tonight, but she would not.
The faint light protruding from the tent she shared with her blood-brother betrayed his presence, which surprised her as he was usually one to stay up late on these evenings of respite in the company of his men. As the Spartans put a lot of emphasis on equality between citizens, their shared tent was one of the only material privileges their higher ranks granted them in this campaign. The ceiling of the tent was just high enough to allow Thalessa to stand up straight underneath its roof and was spacious enough for them to both lie outstretched and left some room for their armour and weapons.
The prince looked up momentarily from the parchment he had been reading as she slid into the enclosed space. He appeared faintly troubled as his eyes roved over the lines. Not wanting to disturb him she remained silent until he would address her, untying the laces of her leather sandals.
"My lord father has sent word to us that this will not be the only campaign we will be engaged in this summer. There have been rumours that the Persians are rearing their ugly heads again instead of keeping to that godforsaken land of their own." Luke grumbled.
He put down the dirtied parchment and stood up in order to help her unbuckle her chest-plate and armguards like the gentleman he was raised to be, his hands lingering on the tanned skin of her upper arms just long enough to be the smallest bit provocative.
"And here I was thinking you were waiting for this grand opportunity to show your skill on the battlefield against our most despised enemies in front of more than just our cosy little platoon for once," She hummed, cherishing the thumb that was now caressing the back of her neck as Luke stood behind her. He put his nose in her freshly washed hair rather than immediately answering.
"How was that bath you so desired, my lady?" She could practically feel his smirk in her hair and felt her cheeks heating up in response. The girl hummed. "So you noticed that then?"
Luke dropped his hands from her shoulders, gliding over the crimson fabric of her tunic, coming to rest on her hips. "I was of the opinion that we had moved on from patronyms and titles when I chose you to become my hetairoi, but maybe I was wrong and we should go back to full names," He sighed dramatically, prompting her to roll her eyes. She had indeed started referring to him as Luke, or with others around as Loukas after the ceremony, as was the privilege of a blood brother. It was considered condescending to keep calling your hetairoi by his official title after the bond was formed. Of course she had just been teasing him during the march, and it seemed like for once she was actually getting the rise she wanted out of him.
Instead of bothering to answer she turned around to face him and brought a hand up to tangle in the back of his golden locks, pulling him in for a slow but searing kiss. One of his hands found the small of her back, the other pressing between her shoulder blades, keeping her firmly in place.
They had been like this for years, starting when they were both twelve years old. Thalessa had been the odd one out throughout the entirety of her training due to her unique situation of private parts, but it was in their fourth year in the agoge that exceptions really started to play a role. It was in this year that youths were actively encouraged to take an older male lover to teach them to become experienced in the carnal knowledge that would in the future help populate Sparta with new generations of warriors.
Thalessa felt herself being pulled down onto Luke's bedroll where she sat tailor style, Luke facing her, sitting on his knees.
"My father wants to promote you," Luke supplied casually, a sparkle in his eyes as he leaned close to her. "He wants you lead your own unit so that your experiences can aid me in the future when I become King."
Thalessa hesitated, "That is madness," she said unbelievingly. "To have me lead without you will cause a mutiny for certain. What is he thinking? Certainly someone must have advised him against it."
"As a matter of fact I suggested it." Luke's voice had soured when he realised his closest companion did not react the way he had expected her to. He reached out a hand to finger the damp tresses of hair around his second-in-command's face, leaving faint droplets of water on her perpetually sunburnt shoulders. "You deserve more than forever standing in my shadow, and you will gain credibility among the elders by leading men to glory all on your own."
Thalessa seemed to struggle for words. "How can you not realise that this is exactly what I always worry about? People will never follow a woman! My position would certainly lead to a mutiny, victory will be so far off that Hercules himself will roll over in his grave as I defile the name of the great Spartan army!"
"Calm down darling, and think for a second before you jump to your self-deprecating conclusions." Luke smiled lazily at her, once more the image of self-control. "You underestimate your own men. Admittedly your position is rather unorthodox, but what these men care about is a strong leader that will lead them to victory with skill and knowledge. One that will not let them starve, or leave them behind. They want a leader that does not cower on the eve of battle, one that will lead them to the doors of Elysium. Of course they will be sceptical when first under your command, and you will need to work twice as hard as any man to earn their respect. But I have the utmost faith in your abilities, and once they see you how you really are, so will they."
Silence encompassed them for a moment. Thalessa, startled by the unexpected and rare expression of admiration, Luke, waiting for her to gather her bearings.
"Your faith in me is impressive, my love. I am, however, afraid it is misplaced,"
"Am I ever really wrong darling? When it comes to the important stuff at least?" Luke said smugly, that ever-present smirk again returning to his lips. His eyes gleamed in a predatory fashion, taking in the lithe form of the woman before him.
She sighed. "No, I am loath to admit that you are right way too often. I'd rather not say so though, your ego is inflated enough as it is." Thalessa drawled tauntingly, very well aware that Luke enjoyed her impertinence to his higher position as much as she did.
Luke tackled her till she was on her back, tickling her mercilessly while she gasped for breath, trying, and failing, to push him off.
"Admit it, you wicked woman! I, prince Loukas of Lacedaemon, future King of Sparta, am as close to the perfection of the gods as a mortal can ever be and you know it!"
Thalessa finally managed to catch his hands and held them trapped, pushed against the ground.
"What are you going to do about it? Tickle me to death?" Thalessa mocked. Her chest still heaved with the aftershocks of laughter.
Luke, being physically indisputably the strongest out of the two wasted no time in freeing his trapped limbs again, this time caressing the naked skin of Thalessa's collarbone with a careful finger rather than tickling.
"No my dearest, but I might just seduce you into compliance," Luke grinned.
"You can torture me all you want, but I will never break," Thalessa slid a hand along his forearm, the other cradling his cheek affectionately. "I am a true Spartan, and therefore I will never give up."
"Sounds like you will have to seduce me back," Luke said, his voice taking an alluring, rough quality. He slid a possessive arm around her waist, pulling her clothed form against him, eyes roving her features. This time their kiss was anything but affectionate. It was a fight for dominance, a seduction. Occasionally Thalessa felt his teeth scraping over her lower lip, his tongue painting her mouth in a way that made heat flare all over her skin. Hands roved over the exposed parts of her skin, leaving trails of searing heat in their wake.
Thalessa had a hand on Luke's neck pulling him ever-closer, the other one doing the same bunched up in the front of his tunic almost aggressively pulling at the fabric.
Many women had come and gone in Luke's life, always vying for attention and a chance of becoming the next Queen of Sparta. Thalessa had never felt like she had needed to be anything like them. They had been comrades since they were seven years old and their friendship had never wavered. She had been the constant in his stream of admirers, always at his side. If she could hold the favour of this beautiful prince for all these years without failing him, then maybe she could also achieve great things on her own. As Ares had once whispered to her in a dream, her future was hers to make, and no one would stop her without a fight.