Sully wasn't particularly certain as to what woke him from his deep sleep. It could have been the sun. It could have been the breeze. But whatever it was broke him of his reverie with a great reluctance. He rolled around on his sleeping mat for sometime before he managed to give in to the call of the morning and facing the new day. He stared at the sky for some minutes, reflecting on nothing and thinking of everything, before he recalled the woman who had been there the night before. The woman from his dreams. Then again, perhaps last night was a dream? He shot up so his weight was resting on his hands and he felt the injury against his ribs with an audible growl before falling onto his back. Grunting in pain, he took to looking around from his place on the mat and felt frantic when he didn't find her.

Of course she wouldn't be here. She's not my people, even if she was real.

That was when he heard shuffling from behind him and he twisted his neck awkwardly to see who was coming.

"Good morning," she said with a smile, nodding at him. "You woke while I was gone."

He nodded and flinched as he rose himself up, this time slowly so as to ease into the pain. "You promised you wouldn't leave."

A blush crept over her cheeks and he decided that he could look at that solitary sight for the rest of his times before falling into the depths of Hades.

"No," she corrected gently as he recognised one of his baskets filled in her right hand. "I said that I would be here to check your wounds when you waken. And I am here to do precisely that."

He nodded, though there was hesitation in doing that. Perhaps he had read too much into their exchange and he settled himself down as he watched her approach.

"What's that?" He referred to her basket.

"Proper herbs to heal your wounds. Don't worry. This one will hurt, but not too badly." She began to work to extract the healing properties as he watched her in silence. She felt as if he was going to burn himself into the back of her head and she was fairly certain that she was blushing brighter than a red Spartan tunic.

"You're a healer." He said.

"Yes." She waited a moment before finally looking at him once again. "And what are you?"

There was a silence between as the only sounds were from her hands and the materials she used to create the concoction. He still had not spoken when she had finished and moved to apply the goo on his wounds.

"And what are you?" she asked again.

"I am… just a man. That's all."

She smiled indulgently before placing more of the herbal mixture against his skin. His hiss made it worth it and she tried to prevent the smile from growing.

"That's all? You don't have a family? Land? What do you do? A wanderer? A musician?"

Again, there was silence and finally he raised his head to look her straight in the eyes. The penetrating gaze hit her once more and she wondered how he managed to hold her attention so intently. Did he stare at everyone like this? Conversations would have to be difficult, even if to trade grain.

"I'm just a simple man."

That's his response. By the gods on Olympus, that was all he could say and she felt herself wanting more. "Do you work?"

He was uneasy discussing anything with her. But in all fairness, she was doing him a great favour and he finally conceded. "I'm a farmer. East of here. Nothing much. Just enough to get by. No family. My father… he died in a battle. Mother is still alive. She has a small farm between my home and Sparta."

She could not stop her curious mind from controlling her mouth. "What are you doing in Sparta?"

That was a question he had been anticipating. He looked down to the side and contemplated the answer, uncertain if he would be able to tell the words of his own destiny. But the three fates and manipulated the string decided that she was already a part of it in her own way.

"Looking for something."

"Did you lose something?"

"No. I'm looking for something I've never had before."

She was wrapping his wounds, her face mere millimetres away from his own and she looked up once again.

"How will you know if you have found it?"

He cupped the back of her head and nodded.

"I think that I already have."

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David growled as he withdrew the sword once more and moved towards his opponent.

"Not bad," heckled the man.

"Spare me your grief this day, Preston. I do not care to exchange words; would rather the blows." David growled as they repositioned themselves across from one another. For a few more minutes, the only sounds exchanged were that of metal against metal, flesh against flesh, and the occasional grunt that resembled animals more so than humans.

Finally they broke apart and stared at each other. It was obvious that David was the better fighter, but Preston was quick and was a brilliant scout. Not everyone could be a quintessential tank before an army, after all. But Preston's defence had been lacking as of late and David was given the task of remedying the situation.

"So," Preston began, in between the desperate gasps and chugging down the liquid from the bucket. "Are the Cypriotes still here?"

David nodded, reaching for his own drinking gourd and guzzling the precious refreshment down. "Aye. They are staying another week."

"The king must be thrilled."

David snorted. "I suspect that he thinks he can convince one of them to take Michaela as a bride for an alliance."

Preston stared in shock at the man, as though Zeus had possessed his friend from the agoge and turned him into a swan. "What does the dear Princess think of that?"

"What do you think she said to it? 'You know that if there was any man to put me in my place, it would have to be a Spartan.'"

"Right to the king's face?"

"Right to his face, as blatant as Akhilles was to Priam."

They both began to chuckle at that, sighing contently once their laughter died down. The gods had blessed them with a pleasant wind this day. It was refreshing.

"So why doesn't she marry a Spartan?" Preston smiled.

He shrugged. "Gods gave her a weak heart. Her mother doesn't think she'll give the world a child. Most men want that."

A pregnant pause.

"Do you want that, David?"

"I don't care. If she bears me no children, I can get another wife pregnant. If she dies bearing me children, then at least I can pretend to mourn a bit. Make it worth my while."

"You've wanted her since you were children and she bested you in the fight…"

The sound of the gourd hitting the stone beneath echoed off of the chamber walls. "She never bested me! I let her win."

Preston's eyes became big and he nodded softly. "Of course. How foolish of me."

"But yes," David continued. "That was when I began to desire her. That Cypriote goddess, Aphrodite, she infiltrated my heart. I would take her."

"Does the king know such a thing? I would think that he would be grateful to get the trouble maker off of his hands. Into marriage, away from his worry."

David looked at Preston with a raised brow. "And you think that I have never considered this? She is his daughter by right. She cannot go to anyone. Despite…" He stopped.

"Despite what?" Preston pressed forward, his desire for knowledge insatiable as a bitch in heat.

"Despite the fact that last night, she attacked him. And she ran away from him. Into the hills."

Preston was thoroughly shocked and they began to walk away from where wandering ears might hear. "Did anyone go after her?"

"No," he shook his head. "With her condition, she'll collapse and fall. She'll know how to take care of herself. I will ask of the king permission to retrieve her if she has not returned soon. If he says yes, I will pursue the match. It would be logical."

Preston smirked. "She might be happy for a rescuer by then. But what if she returns early?"

"You, my dear friend, must make sure that does not happen."

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She stared at him, his words pouring a pale of brilliantly cold water over her muscles and seizing them into nothing. "What did you say?"

He swallowed, looking down ashamed. Had he been so wrong? By the Gods, they were trying to kill him, weren't they? He was so consumed at first with verbally assaulting his conscious that he did not hear the words that matriculated from her mouth, but once he became conscious of them, he knew that there was more to their lives and chance meeting than mortals would consider.

"How is this possible? I mean, we don't know one another. I don't know you and you don't know me and if I fell for every man that could kill a lion, my bed would be more popular than a tribeswoman's. This… this can't be possible."

He caught her cheek and brought her gaze to his, forcing her to cease the outburst and take a breath. "I know that we have not met before, but don't you think that it's possible that maybe, just maybe… this is right?"

"Women have fallen for such verbal caresses before. I am not going to be one of them."

Sully's face contorted into irritation. "Listen, I know." He was not angry at her, but angry at a world that made this so difficult. Then again, if it was destined to be easy, he wouldn't have suffered from having a lion's attack or her from collapsing. "Lots of men say lots of stupid things to convince the… world… to do their… bidding…" His discomfort was blatantly apparent on his face and she found it rather endearing. "I'm not them. I'm not after you for your beautiful face. I'm after you because that beautiful face haunted my dreams. And that beautiful face looked over me as I was ill."

The blush was as bright as the tunics her people wore, and while she was uncomfortable, she did not appear to be objecting to his words. Taking a deep breath, he reached forward and cupped her cheek. It was a loving gesture.

Michaela was not used to loving gestures.

"I'm not looking for someone to warm my bed. There are plenty of furs to do that. But furs… they don't show the fire that you have."

"You were there." She said with understanding. "It was your eyes that I saw. You witnessed the exchange."

"Yes." He would not deny it.

Smiling, she looked at him with a different heart, her eyes expressing a compassion that had taken on a different form. She placed her hand over the one that was cupping her cheek and smiled. "You need food. I'll prepare it. But you need to rest."

"I have some food in my pack," he indicated over his shoulder. She was oblivious to the movement. She was rather unenlightened to most things that were now going on around them. All of the sudden, however, she was aware of his lips against her own. Warm, soft, caring, his strong hand now cupping the back of her head to guide her against him. And she gave no resistance.