Being Human, Part 3
Antiope wakes to softness.
Also, to incredible stiffness, incredible soreness, and a general feeling that she has just survived being sat on by an elephant.
But – the point is, she wakes in Menalippe's bed with Menalippe sitting next to her reading a boring-looking scroll. Menalippe's injured arm is wrapped neatly in clean bandages. Deep in concentration, frowning slightly, she doesn't notice that Antiope has stirred.
Antiope opens her mouth to say good morning, but all that comes out is, "Menalippe, where is our bear?"
Menalippe is very good at being Seer. She is excellent at avoiding questions. She would make a wonderful oracle. "You passed out on the journey back to the city," she says, eyes still fixed on her scroll.
"Bear," Antiope says, insistent. She starts to move, to try to get herself upright in bed.
Menalippe stops her with a gentle hand on her shoulder. "The bear is fine," Menalippe says, looking away from her reading. "You need to rest."
Antiope settles. Her chest hurts. She thinks that if she did manage to get herself up, it would hurt more. She's in no condition to fight her way standing with Menalippe wanting her to stay down. Looking up forlornly at Menalippe, she mumbles, "Hippolyta?"
"Your sister Hippolyta or the bear Hippolyta?" Menalippe asks.
Menalippe removes her hand from Antiope's shoulder in order to roll up and put away her scroll. Antiope misses the contact. She shifts, threatening to try getting up again. Menalippe replaces the hand. The scroll remains only half-rolled.
"Both," Antiope says, comfortable once more. Lying still she does not hurt so much. Her eyes droop. She is very tired, though she suspects she has been asleep for some time.
"I convinced Philippus to tell Hippolyta it was a deer so that you could be there when she finds out," Menalippe says.
Antiope's eyes shoot open again. A mixture of surprise and glee bubbles up in her. "You did? What did you tell her?"
Menalippe clears her throat. "I bribed Philippus to tell Hippolyta it was a deer," Menalippe amends.
"What did you give her?" Antiope asks.
Menalippe's small smile is full of mischief. "My silence," she says.
Menalippe says 'silence,' but all Antiope hears is 'blackmail.' "Seers," Antiope grumbles. "So when do I get to show Hippolyta the bear?"
"Four days," says Menalippe, firm. "And you'll stay resting until then. Understand?"
Antiope closes her eyes. If she's to rest, beside Menalippe is a good place to do it. She exhales, a long sigh of weary resignation mixed with contentment. "Yes, my love."
[] [] []
Though Antiope is by nature truly terrible at staying still, spending three days in Menalippe's bed is not such an awful fate.
Menalippe feeds her and waters her and gives her many kisses, though only ever on her mouth because her chest is healing slowly. After the first day, Menalippe arranges the pillows of the bed such that Antiope can sit up. It's less comfortable, but it's easier to breathe and to cough when upright. It takes very little effort to persuade Menalippe that she should sit behind Antiope, replacing the pillows. Menalippe is far better than pillows.
Leaning up against Menalippe, Antiope drifts in and out of wakefulness.
Her body mends but it does not mend as quickly as it once did. A decade ago, when she was new to the world, she could take her beatings and spring up the next day ready to fight again. She misses youth. But in those days, those faster days, she did not have Menalippe as she does now. And in those faster days, she never got to linger with her love.
She misses youth, but her life has moved on, moved forward, moved up.
[] [] []
On the morning of the fourth day, Antiope wakes up before the sun of her own accord. She feels… functional. It is a welcome change. The bruising on her chest has faded to a hideous yellow-green and, though it doesn't feel pleasant, she can get herself up and out of bed.
Menalippe, for once, is determined to sleep in. When Antiope rises, Menalippe rolls over and pulls her lumpy blanket with a lopsided horse on it over her head.
Antiope dresses herself and sits down at Menalippe's table. She props her chin on her hands and watches Menalippe's blanket-covered form. The horse design covers most of Menalippe's body and her steady breathing makes it look as if the horse is a little bit alive itself.
Antiope did a very good job with her weaving, if she might say so herself.
It is well into the morning when Menalippe finally wakes. The first thing she does is extend a hand from under the blanket, reaching across the bed. When she finds the bed empty, she groans, props herself up on her elbows, and opens her eyes. The blanket slides down, revealing her beautifully strong shoulders. She over to Antiope. "Bear now?" she asks, voice heavy with sleep.
Antiope grins. "Bear now."
[] [] []
Their bear is being kept in a pen right outside the city and so they decide that the best way to go about this endeavor is to fetch Hippolyta to go see it.
But first, Antiope would like to see it too.
Menalippe leads them to the pen. Philippus has fenced off an area and in the center of the area the bear sits tied to a heavy pole staked into the ground. The half-eaten carcass of a goat lies next to it. It looks only slightly happier than when Antiope and Menalippe had it tied upside down to a tree.
Well outside the range that the bear might be able to reach her, Antiope waves at the sad beast cheerfully.
The bear growls – moans, really – a truly mournful sound.
Menalippe sighs. "My love, how many times must I tell you – do not antagonize Hippolyta. She does not appreciate it."
Antiope turns her attention from the bear to Menalippe. She pops herself up onto the balls of her feet and steals a kiss.
[] [] []
Queen Hippolyta is no happier to see them than bear Hippolyta.
When they reach the palace, they find her busy settling a dispute between two neighboring farmers about the boundaries of a plot of land. She looks exasperated even before she catches sight of them entering the great hall. When she finishes with the farmers, she dismisses the rest of her petitioners so that she can focus on her sister and Menalippe.
"I assume you've come here to explain to me how catching a deer turned into a week's adventure that required four days of bedrest," Hippolyta says dryly.
Antiope clears her throat. "There were unexpected circumstances," she says.
"Antiope fell down a hole," Menalippe adds, tone solemn. "She wasn't watching where she was going."
Antiope glances at Menalippe, eyes narrowing. Then, she looks back to her sister and smiles. "I was too busy watching Menalippe."
Hippolyta considers this for a moment. Her eyes flicker from Antiope to Menalippe and then back again. In a drawl, "Plausible. Though I hope you do not become so distracted on the field of battle." She gestures, indicating Menalippe's bandaged arm. "And that? Did you lose a fight with a thorn bush?"
"It was a very fierce bush, my queen," Menalippe says.
"Would you like to come see our deer?" Antiope asks.
"Unlike you," Hippolyta begins, "I have responsibilities."
"It's a very impressive deer," Menalippe says.
Then, Antiope, "The biggest deer you've ever seen."
"We're very proud of it," Menalippe deadpans.
Again, Hippolyta looks between the two women before her. "It's not a deer," she concludes. "What did you drag back with you?" Instead of angry, she's utterly resigned.
"Of course it's a deer, my queen," Menalippe says.
"It has four legs," Antiope adds. "And fur."
Hippolyta's sigh is longsuffering. "Fine then. Take me to your deer."
[] [] []
When Hippolyta lays eyes on the bear, she fights to keep her face blank. Antiope can see it in the way the muscles in her cheeks twitch and the way her jaw goes very tight.
Antiope, grinning, "Do you like our deer?"
Hippolyta says nothing. Her face is starting to turn a pale red.
"Antiope named it Hippolyta," Menalippe provides. "Because it was so… grand."
In silence, Hippolyta turns around and stalks away, back towards the palace.
Speaking now in a low voice, Menalippe asks, "Was that too much?"
Antiope laughs, though not so loud that the retreating Hippolyta will hear. "My love – I love you."
Menalippe now smiles. "I am marrying you for you, of course," she says. "But your sister is a pleasant bonus."
[] [] []
As the wedding grows near, Hippolyta helps herself to Antiope's life and Menalippe's as well. She keeps Menalippe busy overseeing logistics – ensuring that the wine is ready, preparing the torches, and like activities. Hippolyta keeps Antiope busy by dispatching aides to instruct her in the ceremony and ensure that she practices.
There's no use complaining of injustice. Menalippe is a priestess. She knows well how to speak to the gods. When Antiope needs the gods' favor, she tends to make up her prayers as she goes. Hippolyta will have none of this for the wedding. And, in truth, Antiope would like for the wedding to go according to Hippolyta's plan. She trusts that her sister has planned well, has planned better than she could have done, and she desires that, on this day that is as much for Menalippe as it is for herself, nothing go awry.
So Antiope sits at a table in the great library of Themyscira and works to memorize her prayers under Clio's watchful eye.
Outside, it rains.
[] [] []
The night before the wedding, a messenger comes to Menalippe's door. Hippolyta would like to see her sister.
Antiope tries to linger but Menalippe kisses Antiope and tells her to go.
They will see one another again in the morning, and then they will have all the rest of their lives together.
Antiope can give her sister this one night.
[] [] []
Hippolyta has had a dinner laid out for the two of them in her private chambers.
When Antiope arrives, Hippolyta greets her with an embrace.
They eat in comfortable silence.
Antiope drinks, but not heavily.
There is too much anticipation in her. She does not want her senses dull in the morning.
When they have both eaten their fill, Hippolyta asks, "Would you like to see the crown that I've made for her?"
Antiope's laugh comes easily. "I suppose," she says. "As the two of you both have already seen it."
Hippolyta has been keeping the crown in a chest in her bedroom. It will not be given until the epaulia, the second-day feast. She takes it from the chest and brings it out to Antiope.
The crown is a thing of beauty. Red and gold, it is shaped like a helm and Antiope wonders that it could even be worn in battle. Hippolyta presents it to her and when Antiope takes it in her hands she knows immediately that it is steel. The gold on it is fine gilt. It will chip away beneath the strike of a blade, but it will stop the blade. Then, when the battle is done, it will show how it has been worn. It will tell its own tale.
It is the crown of a warrior.
"Menalippe will love this," Antiope says. She looks up to grin at her sister. "Almost as much as she loves me."
Hippolyta gives Antiope a wry grin of her own, in every respect a match to Antiope's. "I doubt it," she says, "I don't think the love of an object could ever compare to that."
A chuckle escapes Antiope's lips. "Probably not," she says. "Thank you."
"She is joining my house, even as you leave it," Hippolyta replies.
Antiope hands the crown back to her sister. "Thank you for that, as well," she says.
"Hm?" Hippolyta questions. She sets the crown down on their table and goes to sit in her seat once more.
Instead of sitting, Antiope chooses to pace. Hippolyta's quarters are large and she has ample room. She raises a hand and runs it through her hair, stopping when she reaches her braid. "For… saying yes? For allowing this? For giving us your blessing?"
Hippolyta tolerates Antiope's pacing without comment. Elbows on the table, she folds her hands together and props her chin on them. "You know and you knew that I wouldn't deny this," she says. "The love you have for one another is obvious. Interfering would be beyond my right."
Antiope finally returns to her seat across from Hippolyta. She mimics her sister's posture and looks Hippolyta in the eyes. "You're a good sister," she says.
"I do my best," Hippolyta replies.
[] [] []
When morning comes, Antiope and Hippolyta rise together at first light. Hippolyta helps her sister dress in a white chiton edged with a hem of gold thread. They leave Antiope's hair undone. Then, they go together from the palace to the river at the base of the city.
Menalippe is waiting for them there on the bank, attended by Penthesilea. Like Antiope, Menalippe wears white, though her garment is less rich. At a safe distance, Artemis stands holding their bear, heavily drugged, by its rope.
When Menalippe catches sight of Antiope, she smiles and her smile lights the world.
Menalippe is radiant. In the early morning sun, she seems to Antiope to be cast in gold, a vision that even the gods would envy.
To avert the envy of the gods, they must sacrifice and they must pray.
An altar has been constructed for them, made of green wood. Spring has come. The river is loud, overfull with freezing meltwater and spring rains. Next to the altar sits an urn filled with dark wine.
They pour out libations to the land.
Penthesilea lights incense and Hippolyta hands Antiope a razor sharp blade. Artemis leads the bear to the altar. No one speaks. They are not here for one another, they are here for the gods.
Menalippe pulls the bear's head back, exposing its neck.
Antiope strikes quickly because she does not like Menalippe keeping her hands so near the bear's mouth, even if the animal is placid. Red blood spills out, staining both of their white garments crimson. Antiope recites the prayer she has spent a week memorizing, calling upon divine Artemis to grant them safe passage from her domain. Her voice is strong. She does not falter, she does not slow.
In this moment, Antiope feels as if she has been waiting her entire existence for this prayer, for this rite, for this day.
When all the bear's life has drained away, Antiope takes the bloody knife and cuts a lock of her hair free. She hands the knife to Menalippe, who then does the same. They burn the cut hair in the incense and together they pray to Aphrodite to accept them into her protection.
Prayer said, Antiope looks to Menalippe and Menalippe looks to Antiope. Antiope sees a love equal to her own in Menalippe's eyes and it fills her with joy. A hand on her shoulder now pulls her away though. The sacrifices are not yet done. Antiope sets her blade down and follows her sister.
Hippolyta leads Antiope down the riverbank and Penthesilea takes Menalippe in the opposite direction. They go until they reach the appointed place where Philippus waits with a heavy chest. The chest is not open. It is for later.
Instead of opening the chest, Philippus offers Antiope another knife.
There are no livestock here.
Such is not the sacrifice that Antiope will give to Ares.
Antiope kneels in the mud beside the river. She holds Philippus' knife in her right hand. She lays the cold tip of the blade against the inside of her forearm. She sets her teeth closed and presses her lips tight before she begins to drag the metal down through her skin.
At her side, she feels her sister tense.
Antiope goes a full hand's breadth. She cuts deep because for this she needs blood.
When she speaks, she does so with a clear voice. This is the only prayer that she'll say today the composition of which she wrested from Hippolyta. "Ares," she begins, "Great son of Zeus, great son of Hera, golden-helmed stormer who defends high Olympus, hear me blazing lord of men. I give of my blood to you, as I have before and as I will always. I have always on the field of battle fought for your glory. I ask now that you grant me your blessing to fight for another as well."
Antiope pauses to lick her lips. Her throat has gone dry. She swallows, finds her voice again.
"I would give myself to my love, Menalippe of Themyscira. By your leave, I would dedicate the life that I have spent in service to you to her. Bold Ares, who rallies men to the salvation of their cities, for the sake of my faith to you, I beseech that you grant me this recognition of my heart."
At that, Antiope stabs Philippus' knife into the ground and she stands. She undresses and leaves her bloody clothes in a heap on the bank.
She faces the freezing river.
Forcing herself into the water is harder by far than cutting her arm.
Somewhere, Menalippe is about to step into the river. Or, perhaps, she has already done so.
The thought of this gives Antiope strength.
Setting one foot in front of the other she walks forward.
The ice water steals her breath even when it barely comes up to her knees. And she must go all the way in. Summoning all her will, Antiope splashes farther in, braving the fast-flowing meltwater. When the river rises to her upper chest, she holds her breath and shoves herself under.
She comes back up almost immediately. Working as fast as she can, she scrubs at the blood on her hands. When she is clean and can take no more of the river, she makes a beeline for the bank.
On the shore, Hippolyta and Philippus are ready with a cloth for her to dry herself with. The chest is open now. Within it is a rich purple peplos and many glittering adornments as well, Hippolyta's gift to Antiope's house. Hippolyta and Philippus will now bandage her arm and they will dress her and braid her hair and set gold on her and place a crown of ivy on her head.
Hippolyta and Antiope both smile and laugh as soon as Antiope is free of the river. Hippolyta embraces her sister. Antiope is careful to avoid getting blood on Hippolyta's white and gold garments.
The period of solemnity is over. The wedding can begin.
[] [] []
Antiope would like to sprint to the feast where she will see Menalippe again, but she has the self-control to force herself to walk at a respectable pace. Every step she takes is heavy, weighed as she is by precious metals and gems. Necklaces of gold rope, jeweled rings, a belt of finely worked gold and silver – all the wealth that can be worn, Antiope wears. Behind her come Hippolyta and Philippus, guardians and attendants.
It is late morning now. The sky is clear and the sun shines down on them all.
The feast, one of the greatest Themyscira has ever seen, is laid out on the training fields, the only area large enough to accommodate so many. Long tables are set and they creak beneath the weight of food and wine. All Themyscira, all the Amazons, mill about around the tables, waiting.
They are waiting for Antiope.
They are waiting for Menalippe.
One table has been set above the rest on a raised platform made of wood. Antiope goes to it and sits down in the seat of highest honor. Today she sits above even her sister.
And then she waits.
All eyes are on her. She fidgets. She twists and looks back towards the river.
She is all nerves.
She does not know what it is that Menalippe's honor of Hermes entails. As Antiope crafted her prayer to Ares, so too did Menalippe create the words she would say to her god. Hermes is a strange lord and Menalippe alone among the Amazons has insight into his workings.
Surely nothing Menalippe came up with could take so long though?
Antiope's stomach knots – impatience, anxiety, anticipation. She fiddles with the gold rings on her fingers.
When finally she sees three figures in the distance, she stands, unable to sit any longer. Squinting, she can make out Penthesilea, Clio, and Menalippe.
A smile breaks across Antiope's face. It takes all the self-restraint in her being not to wave to the far-off party.
Beside her, Hippolyta remains seated. Antiope can feel Hippolyta's own smile though, twin to her own.
The approach is maddeningly slow. Just as Antiope forced herself to come to the feast at a walk, so too does Menalippe's party come at a dignified pace.
Antiope forces herself to accept this state of affairs.
It just gives her time to appreciate Menalippe.
Menalippe wears a white tunic with a purple cloak. She carries a staff in one hand. On her head is a garland much like Antiope's. When she has come close enough, she looks up, finds Antiope's eyes, and smiles. For the rest of the approach, she does not look away and neither does Antiope.
When she has finally come up onto the platform and when she has finally come within reach, Antiope closes the remaining distance between them. Antiope gets a hand on either side of Menalippe's head and pulls her down into a deep kiss.
[] [] []
The first time they meet, they are young. They are new. They have seen so little of the world.
And yet Antiope knows, knows in her bones, knows in her heart, knows in her soul that—
It is a feeling of inevitability and she hurls herself into it.
She has seen Menalippe from a distance many times but so close she feels caught by the pull of something far greater than herself.
On the training field, she leans over and offers Menalippe a hand up.
Menalippe smiles and takes it.
[] [] []
The first time they go together, Antiope has had no small amount of wine.
She is nervous.
She knows what she wants but she is afraid to give and to take because in the face of what she wants, in the face of the scale of her desire, she feels very small. She feels as a lone traveler in a great tempest, buffeted by wind and by rain and directed by forces beyond her control.
Menalippe kisses her and undresses herself and, laboring in tandem with Menalippe, Antiope is unable to feel small any longer.
[] [] []
The first time they fight, it's over such an insignificant thing – a thing so small that in later years Antiope forgets what it was, exactly. What she remembers is the confusions of what follows.
Menalippe is shocked that Antiope has not done as she expected.
Antiope is furious that Menalippe would so presume.
Their quarrel lasts months because when two people have never fought before, they are ill-accustomed to the arcane steps of making peace.
For Antiope, the months are miserable months. The months are months spent wondering if the separation will last forever. The months are months spent worrying that she will not find it within herself to forgive.
But in the end, she does.
And when she does, she takes Menalippe in her arms and holds her as she cries.
[] [] []
And the first time they love – the first time they love is the same as the last time they love is the same as all the times that they love.
They love, endless.
[] [] []
The feast lasts for the whole of the day. All the Amazons eat richly and drink heartily but there's food and wine to spare still when evening falls.
When the distant sun touches the earth on the horizon, Menalippe stands and Antiope stands following her. Menalippe leads Antiope to a golden chariot drawn by a team of four black horses and helps Antiope up into it before joining her. All around them, attendants pass out torches to the guests.
Hippolyta lights her torch first and goes to stand beside the chariot on her sister's side, just as Penthesilea does the same for Menalippe.
Menalippe drives the chariot forward and Hippolyta and Penthesilea walk, keeping pace with it. The other Amazons carry torches behind them, dancing and singing. The sum of it all is a great boisterous cacophony that rises up to the darkening heavens.
The festivities are lost on Antiope. She has little interest in them. The whole of her world is standing beside her, one arm around Antiope's waist.
Though Menalippe's house is near to the field, she directs the procession all through the streets of the city. Antiope thinks that there is no one in all Themyscira who was not in attendance at the feast, who is not now walking behind them, but this is a day of ritual as much as it is a day of celebration. There must be no doubt it anyone's mind of their union.
[] [] []
When they finally reach Menalippe's house, Menalippe gets out of the chariot first and then offers Antiope her hand. Antiope is reaching out to take it when Menalippe changes her mind and grabs Antiope by the waist and lifts her out of the chariot.
Antiope grumbles.
Menalippe smiles. Everyone around them is singing still, so she bends down to Antiope's ear to speak, "You're only upset because you didn't think of doing it."
Since Menalippe has done her the favor of coming so close, Antiope settles her arms around Menalippe's neck and answers her with another kiss. Menalippe responds by pushing her tongue into Antiope's mouth and sliding her hands down to cup Antiope's ass.
A shout catches their attention for a moment. Penthesilea has opened the door to Menalippe's house and is gesturing that they go in.
Menalippe pulls away slightly. "I think they're trying to tell us something," she says.
"Get a room?" Antiope replies. "Nothing they've never told us before."
Menalippe's laughter distracts Antiope just enough that Menalippe is able to scoop her up off her feet. Instead of protesting, Antiope grabs onto Menalippe to secure herself and then leans up to kiss her again.
Menalippe keeps the kiss short. She pulls back before long. "I think," Menalippe begins. She takes a step towards the door of her house, adjusts her hold on Antiope, then walks. When she speaks, her warm breath tickles Antiope's ear. "I think that they are telling us to consummate our marriage."
As they cross Menalippe's threshold, Penthesilea closes the door behind them. Outside, the singing continues.
Menalippe sets Antiope down with a grunt.
"Lochagos, have you been neglecting your training?" Antiope asks. "Surely I am not so heavy."
Menalippe mock-scowls. "You're too short to be heavy," she says lightly. "But you're wearing your weight in gold." She gestures to herself, dressed in only a tunic and purple cloak and with little other adornment. "I feel I have brought little to our house in comparison."
Antiope grabs Menalippe by her tunic and pulls her in for another kiss. When she has taken what she wanted, she pulls back and sets her forehead against Menalippe's. She keeps her hands fisted in Menalippe's shirt. She meets Menalippe's brown eyes with her clear blue ones. Her breathing is quick and her voice is rough as she replies, "You have brought yourself and you have made me the richest woman in this world. Now undress me."
There's a light in Menalippe's eyes that Antiope understands as a mixture of anticipation and desire and joy. "As you command, my love," Menalippe murmurs.
Menalippe starts with the necklaces. Still facing Antiope, still keeping her head tilted to leave her forehead against Antiope's, she reaches around to unclasp the ropes of gold. She moves her hands slowly, deliberately. Her forearms rest on Antiope's shoulders, steadying her movements. She's doing it all by feel. She never looks away from Antiope's face.
They are close. So close. There is a hunger in Antiope that urges her to erase the distance between them and press her body against Menalippe's and shove her tongue into Menalippe's mouth and run hands over skin.
She quiets herself and drinks in Menalippe's movements.
Menalippe is moving for her.
Though her heart beats loud and quick, though her breath is uneven, there is no need to rush.
One by one the necklaces, Hippolyta's gifts to her sister and her sister's bride, fall to the floor of Menalippe's house. Only when Menalippe has removed them all does she allow her hands to slip downwards. She grazes her fingertips over the fabric of Antiope's peplos, applying only enough pressure that Antiope can feel the fabric move against her skin but none of Menalippe's touch. "Your sister attended you very well," Menalippe says softly. With the singing outside, Antiope must strain to hear her. "But you don't need gold or purple. You are far more beautiful than all this."
Menalippe's hand finds hers now. Warm skin, rough calluses.
Menalippe takes Antiope's hand and raises it up. She kisses Antiope's knuckles. Her eyes still never leave Antiope's. Her tongue darts out, runs along Antiope's fingertips.
Antiope holds herself perfectly still. She continues to watch.
Menalippe tests one of Antiope's rings with her thumb. It's loose.
Antiope knows what comes next. The hunger in her is building and it is ever harder not to move, to act, to set in motion. But she has already set in motion.
Menalippe takes Antiope's finger in her mouth, grazes teeth over skin, rolls her tongue –
Menalippe moves for her.
When her hands are free of gold, Antiope takes the opportunity to slip them into Menalippe's hair, cupping the back of her head, jerking her forward for another kiss.
Antiope starts the kiss, but Menalippe controls it.
It's a slow kiss.
It's a deep kiss.
It's the kind of kiss that Antiope can close her eyes and lose herself in – and she does.
Chill air touches her back. Her clothes lie about her feet. Menalippe's warm hands rest for a moment on her waist, then one slides up, rising all along her side, dragging light across her shoulder, settling finally by the soft base of her neck. The movement is languid. The pad of her thumb traces a gentle circle in the hollow just above Antiope's sternum.
Menalippe pulls back from their kiss.
Antiope opens her eyes.
"My love," Menalippe says quietly. Her cheeks are wet. Her smile is soft. "My love, you are the light of my life."
Menalippe pauses and Antiope starts to reply but, with a shake of her head, Menalippe stops her. She has not yet finished her piece.
Antiope waits.
For Menalippe, she will always wait.
Finally, Menalippe speaks once more, voice thick, "My love, I love you so much."
"I know," Antiope breathes. "I know, my love. I know."
"I…" Menalippe starts. She falters. She swallows. She blinks away her tears. "I love you."
Antiope presses her lips to Menalippes, then pulls away. A brief kiss. It's her turn. She speaks. She commands. "Don't tell me. Show me. And let me show you."
Menalippe's cloak and tunic join Antiope's clothes on the floor.
Their wait is over now.
Locked together, they stumble to their bed then fall ungracefully into it.
Antiope sets to work. No more waiting. Just wanting. Just taking. Just having. They're sprawled out such that she's on top – one hand presses Menalippe down, the other goes down. She drags blunt fingernails over hard muscle. When she finds Menalippe's center, Menalippe's hips buck.
Antiope grins. She keeps her hand very still. She shifts, just enough to bring her mouth to Menalippe's ear.
"I love you," Antiope says.
And then she fucks her wife.
A/N: The end. Somewhat unfortunately, I finished this chapter the evening of Oct. 31 and then started up on my Antiope/Menalippe NaNoWriMo a few hours later - meaning I haven't had time (and won't have time) to do proper revisions. Hopefully it doesn't show too much, hah. The upside to this is that is that I cracked 10k words on my NaNo yesterday (so, like, I did 10k words in three days) and I'm perhaps contemplating shooting for a 100k double NaNo or something in that range... which would significantly slow posting of the fic when I finish due to edit time. Hah. Trade offs. Anyway. Thanks for reading!
