The horses were the best that the stables could offer Mycenae's queen, purchased so it was said from the far Eastern lands of the desert. As she rode swiftly through the crowded streets, Clytemnestra revelled in the power and grace of the ebony horses, calling out to their driver to urge them to greater speed. Since her marriage she had found little time for riding, and so determined to indulge herself for as long as she was able. In her homeland she had become a familiar sight, a princess who challenged every convention and whenever possible dared to break with tradition. Many had caught glimpses of her astride the fastest horse in her father's stables, dark hair streaming out behind her and her face alight with pleasure. For a moment sorrow rose up within Agamemnon's consort, as she reflected sadly that such carefree days were now nothing but cherished memories.

She had known little of the price duty demanded, or how death could take from rich and poor alike a man she had counted as both a husband and friend. Her first consort, he who gave her the little son who had died under circumstances which she had always thought were suspicious. She would never forget the weight of his cooling body as she prepared her child for the funeral rites, refusing to let any save her trusted servants assist with the preparations. Many had whispered in the following months that their queen was forever changed, for her confidence and fiery spirit had been shaken by the sorrows which the Moirae had seen fit to send the sister of famed Helen.

Scarcely two months after her family's death another prince had come to court her, and so indifferent was she to her fate that she readily accepted. It was only after her marriage that she realized her mistake, for Agamemnon's interest in her did not extend beyond the pleasure she gave him in their bedchamber, and the occasional evening when she ignored protocol and offered her opinions concerning the running of their kingdom. Her observations were always cut short, with curt admonishments to please keep such comments to herself, and to take interest only in matters of court gossip, or making provision for any guests under their roof according to the sacred custom of Xenia.

The birth of Iphigenia had helped to dull the sharp pangs of loss which had never diminished with the passage of years. Indeed it burned as fiercely as the hatred she bore for Agamemnon, and her thoughts of vengeance for the life he had so ruthlessly stolen. She could not know that soon all of her secret prayers would be granted, nor the terrible cost which vengeance would demand.

The queen of Mycenae was so absorbed in her thoughts that she scarcely noticed when the chariot came to a jarring halt within a pillared courtyard. Iphigenia glanced anxiously at her mother, troubled by the glimpses of sorrow and bitter regret which she caught whenever her mother thought she wasn't looking. They had always enjoyed a close friendship, indeed the young princess suspected that she alone was privileged to glimpse a side of Clytemnestra which few ever saw. She recalled fondly the many nights when her mother had sat at her bedside, sharing with her fascinating stories from many lands, and the way she had always kept vigil at her daughter's side whenever she was ill. It was to her mother that Iphigenia confided her struggles and hopes for the future, and her wish that she might someday be granted the honour of meeting one of the great heroes of her people. Never would she have imagined that she was to see that desire fulfilled, for to be joined to Achilles was something which many a princess would do anything to achieve.

Automatically she reached for her mother's hand, nervous and needing reassurance that all would be well. Clytemnestra offered her daughter an encouraging nod, before preparing to dismount.

To her astonishment it was no servant who stepped forward to assist her, but the tall form of Achilles himself. Determined to honour Agamemnon's choice, Clytemnestra nodded to her future son in law graciously, and smiled to see her daughter offer the great warrior a respectful courtsy.

"Greetings to you son of Peleus. I look forward to the day when the house of Atreus will be joined to yours. My daughter is eager to make your acquaintance."

Achilles stared at the queen of Mycenae in astonishment.

"There must be some mistake my lady. I have never courted your daughter, and I no nothing of this wedding of which you speak."

"I don't understand," Clytemnestra murmured distractedly. "Agamemnon wrote to me saying that he had made arrangements for our daughter to wed you before the army set sail for Troy. I have the scroll here if you'd care to read it."

Nodding Achilles accepted the letter and quickly scanned the brief contents. Confusion soon gave way to anger, tempered by pity for the cruel trick which Agamemnon had played upon his wife and daughter. Horror swept through the proud son of Thetis, for he thought he knew very well the reason behind Agamemnon's cruel trick.

"If my lady would allow me a few moments, I believe I can answer that question. There is something I think you aught to know. Every Greek warrior in Aulis knows by now of your arrival, and I know the true reason you were summoned here."

"Speak then Achilles, for I would be glad of any information you could give."

As Achilles told his tale, Clytemnestra once again felt rage against her husband begin to well up afresh. Long accustomed to such anger, she forced it down, knowing that it would not do her or Iphigenia any good to confront her consort until she could act rationally. Achilles saw the strong features harden into a cool mask of determination, and almost felt sorry for the experienced general. Almost, for even he would never have considered sacrificing family for the sake of power and glory.

In years to come, when the day's battle had been hard and sleep remained illusive, as he encamped before the walls of Troy, it was the remembrance of Clytemnestra confronting him at Aulis which could always bring a smile to Agamemnon's face. Indeed the first word which came to mind as he looked upon his queen was magnificent. Eyes alight with fury and the promise of vengeance, she looked like one of the terrifying Erinyes as she thrust his letter into his hand. He had expected a hysterical distraught mother, overcome with grief at the news she had just received.

What he got instead was a queen determined to discover the truth.

"Husband, I have endured much as your wife, but never would I have thought you capable of such a cruel trick. If it weren't for Achilles I would never have known about your true intentions."

"I did try to write another letter telling you the truth, but Menelaus intercepted it."

"Well at least you tried to send me word".

"Listen to me. It was the only way I could think of to bring you and Iphigenia to Aulis. The army is eager to sail to Troy. I spent more than an hour with Calchas trying to find another way to placate Artemis, but in the end I had no choice but to agree."

"I might have known conquest would be your reason behind this trick. Tell me husband, is restoring the honour of Greece so important to you that you would sacrifice your own child? Do you care so little for me that you would so casually sacrifice her for the sake of power and glory? And don't say that I still have Orestes because that doesn't comfort me in the least. Not after what you did to my first husband and our baby. Ah you thought I didn't know about that, I learned soon after our marriage. Why I've remained faithful to you all these years is beyond me. But I've more than fulfilled my duty to you as a wife, bore you children and ruled at your side. And still you want to kill Iphigenia. Have you ever thought of what that would do to me. How I curse that ridiculous oath my sisters' suitors took. If it weren't for her and Odysseus's supposed brilliant ideas this situation would never have happened.

What of Iphigenia? Have you thought about her part in this, and how we are going to tell her that for the sake of Greece's honour and men's accursed need for glory and recognition she must become a willing sacrifice?"

At last Agamemnon held up a hand for silence. "Do you think this is easy for me? For hours I tried to think of a way to spare our daughter's life. I even considered defying Artemis's command knowing that our armies wouldn't be able to claim victory at Troy. But when Menelaus intercepted my second message to you, he told me that all of our warriors know of Calchas's prophecy." Any further objections his queen might have made were silenced by the entrance of Iphigenia. Unnoticed the young princess had entered the megaron, drawn by the sound of raised voices. At first she was filled with horror as she learned the true reason behind her father's summons. But as she listened to her parents argue over her fate, the young princess determined that she would make the final decision concerning her destiny. Nor was she alone, for Achilles curious about how Agamemnon was going to explain his actions to his queen had accompanied Iphigenia.

Now he stepped forward, determined to say what he thought of such unnecessary sacrifice.

"As one of the warriors under your command, I too am eager for battle. But I refuse to have anything to do with this affair, unless Highness you wish me to aid your daughter?" Clytemnestra faltered; tempted by the offer of help from such a renowned warrior. Surely he could thwart her husband's plans, or at the very least help her smuggle Iphigenia away from Aulis before anyone suspected their purpose.

But in her heart she already knew the bitter truth, one which she shrank from admitting, though in the end she was forced to acknowledge its implacable voice. No mortal could hope to challenge the gods. Countless stories were told of those who had dared, and all had ended in disaster and sorrow. She wished that it was permitted for humanity to demand answers from the immortals who governed their destinies, to question why it was their right alone to inflict suffering and pain upon the inhabitants of the earth who were faithful in their worship.

"Mother," Iphigenia's voice abruptly cut short Clytemnestra's bitter reflections. "if by my death I might restore the honour of our family and our land, then I will pay the price with gladness." The words were brave, and yet all present heard the tremor in the young voice, and saw how the slender fingers grasped her mother's hand for comfort and encouragement.

Mycenae's queen drew her daughter into a desperate embrace, as love warred against pride within her shattered heart. At that moment she saw no longer a child, but a true daughter of kings prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice for the sake of her people.

Would that my own sister had learned a similar lesson, to count the cost of her own pleasure against the lives of brave men bound by oath to defend her honour. For the thousandth time the queen of Mycenae wondered why such laws were given by the immortals, for they often led to much sorrow and pain when taken to such extreme lengths. Nor did it help that men who followed the path of the warrior were trained to uphold their honour at any cost.

Turning to face her daughter, Clytemnestra smiled bravely, determined to make sure that her daughter's final memories of her mother would be ones of strength and affection.

"Very well. Go then and prepare for the sacrifice, and know that I love you and will miss you until we meet again in the underworld."

Two hours later Clytemnestra watched as some of Greece's finest warriors escorted her daughter to the sacred grove where the sacrifice would take place. She could not bring herself to follow the procession of warriors, but she held the gaze of her daughter for as long as she was able until Iphigenia passed beyond her sight. Behind her came Agamemnon, grim and silent as she had seen him a thousand times before when called to war. In that moment his queen hated Agamemnon anew for the courage she lacked. But as the final warrior marched through the gates, she vowed by all she held sacred that one day she would take her revenge for the life of her daughter. Even if she must wait ten years, she would never forget this day. This she swore by the goddess Nemesis.

Authoress's note: Sorry for the delay on this chapter, but the past couple of months have been stressful, as a close friend of the family has recently passed away. I've found time to work on other fics, but this chapter turned out to be a difficult one to write.

For readers interested in mythology, I've recently updated my retelling of Semele's legend, called Let Me Know Your Face, as well as my other Greek mythology tale called Chain of Sorrows.

And for the people reading this who enjoy Snapegirlkmf's stories, I'm going to post a fic based on her excellent story Moon Fire.

So look for it on my page in a few days, it will be called Let The Night Begin.

I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter and would love to know what you think of the story so far.