(AN: Rather interesting chapter title, to be certain.)
(Thank you, ThalieXVII, for finding that for me. Hope I don't make any more stupid errors like that :p)
Blood
"The soul is healed by being with children." - Fyodor Dostoyevsky
December passed by so quickly after Sophitia's return, that the New Year was already upon them before any real plans for a wedding were carried out. They had very little time for themselves, the young couple, for as soon as it was rumored that Sophitia Alexandros had returned to Athens, her family closed down their shop and came out to meet her. Of course, they were happy to see her standing on her feet, well and unharmed, but they didn't believe her story any more now, even when they saw her with her sword and shield in hand.
All except for Cassandra, who gave Sophitia a playful wink as they parted their embrace.
A day came in Athens when an unusual flag was placed outside the Alexandros house. Within the week, the whole village knew that there would soon be a wedding.
-~-I-|-O-|-I-~-
January 3rd, 1588
In the house of the Alexandros family, Nike and Cassandra were making sure Sophitia was ready for her big day. She stood between her mother and sister, clad in a clean, white chemise, with her long, golden hair flowing freely down her back. Nike told Cassandra to get herself ready for the duties of the koumbara. Once she was all alone with her daughter, Nike embraced her.
"Today, you begin your life as a married woman," Nike said. "I'm so proud of you, glýka." She wiped her eyes of the tears of joy that were now welling up. "I have something for you."
She walked over to the trunk that sat at the foot of the bed that she shared with Achelous. Opening it up, she produced the most beautiful dress Sophitia had ever seen. It was made of white linen, embroidered with blue such that it was hard to tell where the white began and the blue ended: like a sea of shimmering colors. The skirt had at least two layers to it, with the second, outermost layer made of sheer, green fabric. A red scarf also was with the dress, which would be hung loosely about the neck. So did Sophitia see for the first time the dress which her mother had kept hidden for so many years.
"Mi̱téra!" Sophitia exclaimed. "Why, it's beautiful!"
"It's yours now, child," Nike said. "Your wedding garment."
"Oh, Mother," she returned. "I could never..."
"My mother gave this to me when I married your father," Nike began. "It has been passed down from generation to generation through the women of my family. I was saving it for just this day."
"Thank you, Mother." Sophitia smiled.
-~-I-|-O-|-I-~-
Outside, under the pavilion that had been erected for this very occasion, Rothion awaited the arrival of his bride-to-be. As he was not allowed to see the bride before the wedding, he had not seen her all day: it was starting to show. His hands were shaking and sweating, and he kept looking this way and that, hoping to catch any sign of her.
In his mind, he went over every detail he and Achelous had gone over for the past week and a month. The wedding would not be held in the Byzantine churches, or in a mosque, but outside, under the open air. Since Rothion had no brothers, they had agreed that Lucius would serve as koumbaro for the wedding, while Cassandra, naturally, served as koumbara. At Rothion's side was the young boy, holding the ring in his hand.
At the stroke of twelve, it was time. The wedding banner, which had been removed to Rothion's house, was now being carried by Achelous back to the Alexandros house. Rothion and young Lucius made their way through the town-streets, the bride-groom eager to be with his loving bride, for now and for all time.
They arrived outside of the Alexandros house, and Rothion got his first glimpse of his bride-to-be, dressed in brilliant colors. She was beaming at him, her green eyes filled with love. At that moment, all of Rothion's doubts or fears were dispelled like mist by the morning sun. There could be no doubt, when looking into her loving eyes, that they were meant for each other. All of Olympus was surely smiling down upon them.
-~-I-|-O-|-I-~-
The ceremony went down as expected. The wedding feast was exquisite. At last they were united: Rothion Alexander and Sophitia Alexandra. Nothing but joy filled their village as they enjoyed the revelries of the wedding feast. When the time came, after midnight, for the newly-weds to depart, the guests started to disappear while Sophitia and Rothion went their way. It was dark when they came to his house, hand in hand.
Once inside, Rothion lit a lamp and led Sophitia to his bed-chamber. He placed the lamp on the window sill, then turned his attention to Sophitia. Passion burned within both of them, and were it not for Sophitia's forbearance, the heirloom dress would have been torn asunder in their desire to get at each other. As it was, she told him to remove it carefully, so as to not damage it. When at last she was clad in nothing but her chemise, they laid themselves down upon the bed.
Not since the days of Helen and Paris had the world seen such impassioned lovers. Already bound at the heart, they seemed determined to be bound at the lips for the rest of the night. The straw crinkled beneath their weight as they rolled about, entwined among each other.
At last, the moment came that Sophitia had been dreading. She felt Rothion's hand rest upon her shoulder, then the sleeve of her chemise started to fall down her arm.
"No, please," she sighed, pulling herself out of his grasp.
"What's wrong?" he asked. "This is what tonight is for, right?"
"I know," Sophitia replied.
"Don't you want to?"
"I do," she returned, an annoying feeling of awkwardness rising up within her. "It's just, well..."
"What?"
Sophitia sighed, burying her head upon Rothion's now bare chest. She couldn't get over how perfect he was! Most men, so it was said, were covered in hair like a goat, but Rothion's body was smooth yet powerfully built: the gift of his days in the forge. She couldn't be close enough to him, even with her forehead pressing against his body. Blasphemous though it may be, she doubted that Apollo could be much more beautiful than Rothion was handsome.
But she?
"You know about my travels," she said. "And all that happened."
"Yes," he nodded.
"Rothion, please, can't we just go to sleep? It's late, and I'm tired." That wasn't true: when she was in Rothion's arms, all thoughts of sleep faded from her mind.
"Sophitia," he replied. "I can tell something is bothering you. Please, you know you can tell me."
She had difficulty choking back tears: he was just so perfect. She couldn't keep this charade up, she couldn't put him through this. In her heart, she knew that she had to tell him the truth. She got up and sat down, with her face to the window and her back to her lover. Trembling hands reached up to her shoulders and let her chemise slide off her back, where it came to rest upon her hips.
"I am scarred, Rothion," she sobbed quietly. "I can never be perfect for you."
Silence flowed between them for a few, painful moments. Then the hairs on Sophitia's back stood up as she felt a warm, calloused hand moving across her bare back. A traitorous gasp escaped her lips as the hand rested on her shoulder, and Rothion's lips touched the nape of her neck.
"What scars?" he whispered.
"Rothion, please..."
"I never said I wanted perfect," he replied. She turned her face to the right, and saw his face there, her own reflection in his deep, brown eyes. In his eyes, she saw something that took her breath away. Her scars were not hurting, but her body ached to be with him. Then he spoke those four words that made her sure that, no matter what, they would always be together.
"I just want you."
Love. That was what Sophitia saw in Rothion's eyes. Love for her, despite her past, present, or whatever the future held. Every dream, every wish, every imagination of her heart's desire had at last come true in him. All fears and doubts were banished when she looked into his eyes, and knew that she had no reason to fear: he loved her, and that was all that mattered to her.
One hand rested within Rothion's rich, dark hair, gently pulling him closer until their lips met. The other hand guided his down her back.
The months passed by uneventfully and with peace, just as they had before. Between working at the smithy, Rothion began working on the house. It would be the place where he raised his family, and so it had to be expanded. For the most part, Sophitia offered what aid she could with the work; however, that soon came to an end.
One day, Sophitia complained that she had ceased to bleed. When news of this reached her mother, Nike was more than ecstatic. She told Sophitia the good news, who then relayed it to Rothion. Within a week, Sophitia's whole family knew and joy was with their house.
Sophitia was with child.
Over the next few months, Rothion's house was frequented by Cassandra. She spent more time there than at Achelous' shop, but Sophitia didn't mind. She was the most excited to hear the news, and practically doted on Sophitia. When it became evident that her condition couldn't allow her to help around the house, Cassandra would help with the more demanding chores while Sophitia alternated between resting and the easier house-hold duties.
For many months, they took care of Sophitia while her stomach swelled. In October, two months in excess to what was the expected term of carriage, she became unable to continue working around the house. Every time she exerted herself, she would get extreme pains and could not continue. Thus Cassandra volunteered to help around the house, as she had beforehand.
Rothion's house had only two rooms: the hearth and the bed-room. Bustling about the room was Cassandra, a broom in her hand as she cleaned up the house.
"If only Rothion were here," Cassandra murmured.
"He has to work," Sophitia sighed. She was sitting on a stool by the hearth, resting as she had done for the past several weeks.
"I think he should be here, at home," Cassandra stated. "I mean, after all, it's not my baby that's being born. Why can't he do this?"
"You asked to come here," Sophitia replied. "You can...you can leave whenever you...want to."
"Sis, are you alright?"
"Yes, I'm fine," Sophitia replied. "It's kicking me in all the wrong places."
"Is there a right place?"
"Cassie, ow! It hurts."
"I'm sorry," Cassandra laid her broom aside and wrapped her arm around Sophitia's shoulder. "You hear that?" She spoke to Sophitia's stomach. "You're hurting your mommy, so cut it out."
"Cassie, really."
"No, sis, you really. Rothion should be here." She kissed Sophitia on the cheek, then picked up her broom and went on about the work.
"Then why are you here?" Sophitia laughed. "And what's more, how did Mother and Father let you come here?"
"Oh, they think I need domestic training," Cassandra sighed. "Prepare me for marriage, or whatever."
"It does help," Sophitia replied.
"I don't wanna get married, though," Cassandra repeated her ancient refrain. "I want to..."
"Explore the world, I know. But you're...ooh! You're eighteen now. You need to think about your future."
"I have considered my future," Cassandra stated. "The only thing I've missed are our private lessons."
"I've told you bef...before," Sophitia sighed. "I'm through with that life."
"Yeah, yeah, and I've been teaching myself since you chose to stop," Cassandra mused aloud as she pushed the straw broom along the floor. "But it's nowhere near as fun as when we used to..."
"Cassandra."
"Hmm?"
"Go get Mother."
"Mother? What do you want..."
"Oh!" Sophitia leaned forward overmuch and almost fell down to the floor. Cassandra ran to her side, arm around her shoulders.
"I've got you, sis!" she replied.
"Cassandra..." Sophitia gasped, breathing heavily.
"Yes?"
"Get Mother!"
"Why?" Suddenly her hand went up, covering her mouth in surprise. "You mean...?"
"Ow! Yes, I am! Now go get Mother!"
"What about you?"
"I need mother, dammit! Now go get her!"
-~-I-|-O-|-I-~-
Rothion paced outside his own house, afraid of what might happen. It was late afternoon of the twenty-second when Cassandra came running to his forge, screaming that Sophitia was giving birth to her baby. For the whole of that night and most of that day, Sophitia was plagued with pains in her abdomen, but the afternoon came and no baby was delivered. Most of the pain had dissipated, but he was not allowed to see her. He began to grow nervous: she wasn't having pains, so they said, and yet they wouldn't let him see her. What had happened?
As the sun was on its way down, Cassandra appeared out of the window.
"Is she alright?" Rothion asked. "I should be there with her."
"No, there's nothing really to tell," Cassandra replied. "It was probably just a false alarm. Nothing yet."
"Please, Cassandra," he urged. "Pray to the gods that she has a safe delivery. She has been in there for almost two days, something can't be right."
"One, stop thinking that way," she replied. "You don't need to worry. Sophitia's been through worse, she can handle this. Meanwhile, I know somewhere you can stick your prayers to the g..."
A sudden, ear-piercing scream echoed from within the house. Without so much as an "Excuse me", Cassandra ran back into the house. The delivery had begun in earnest now.
If Rothion had worried about the half and one day of waiting, he was almost dead with fear now. The cries from within made him fearful, as though she were being torn down the center. He could not help but shed tears as he heard his love crying out, knowing he was unable to do anything to help her.
Midnight tolled in the distant church. Collapsed against the wall of his house was Rothion Alexander, exhausted from having waited so long, worry increasing his exhaustion: whether the screams of pain had at last died down, or whether he was not listening to them, he knew not. All he knew now was exhaustion, weariness, and the chill of the mid-autumn air.
"Daddy?" a voice asked from the window.
Rothion turned his face up from where he was slouching, and saw Cassandra's face, drenched in sweat, looking out of the window with a happy expression.
"Daddy?" he repeated. "You mean I'm a father?" Cassandra nodded vigorously. "And Sophitia? Is she well?"
"Come in and see!" Cassandra invited.
With nervous, shaking laughter on his lips, Rothion rose to his feet and ran into the house. Inside the bedroom, whose door Cassandra had opened, he saw Nike standing over the bed, with a bundle of rags in her arms. Sprawled out on the bed was Sophitia, many blood-stained sheets piled at the end and beneath her.
"Are you alright?" Rothion asked Sophitia.
"Tired," she sighed, a smile on her face at seeing Rothion.
"But what's all this for?" he said, gesturing to the bloody sheets.
Sophitia looked up at her mother, who handed her the rags, then took Cassandra by the arm and led her out of the room, closing the door behind them. Rothion knelt at Sophitia's side.
"It was close," Sophitia sighed. "I labored for two days, growing weaker with each hour. I felt such pain, greater than I've ever felt, even from my battles. My mother and sister were afraid, especially when I was bleeding so much."
"But everything is well, isn't it?" he asked, fearful of what might happen next. "Is the baby...is it alive?"
Another beautiful smile stretched across Sophitia's sweat-drenched face.
"Come, my love," she said. "See your daughter."
She held up the bundle of rags, and only then did Rothion notice a tiny, wrinkled face buried within the rags. Flaming red hair peaked out from a mostly bald head, while the baby was sleeping peacefully.
"A girl," he sighed. Sophitia nodded. "Oh, she will be loved, just as much as her mother." Once more, the smile that he loved seeing.
"What shall we call her?"
"Pyrrha," he replied. "To honor your trial."
(AN: As if recreating a Jewish marriage for Exodus: Birth of a Nation wasn't difficult enough, I had to recreate a Greek marriage for this story. I also had to pick through what information I found, since Olympian-cult worshipers wouldn't have a Byzantine [Greek Orthodox] or Islamic marriage. Her dress is based off her second outfit from Soul Edge, just without the green tartan skirt, boots, gloves or the hat. I could have gotten away with the hat, but her head needed to be bare for the garlands.)
(Lots of information crammed into this chapter. Concerning Sophitia's reluctance in the marriage bed, the answer for that is simple: a] she is naturally shy about her body, and b] she is shy about her body even more now that she bears scars from her battle with Cervantes. I'm not saying I'm an expert, but I've spoken with a girl [who shall remain nameless] who was embarrassed by scars on her body. From a male perspective, I view scars as trophies of past victories, especially if they are battle scars, like Sophitia's. As she isn't male, she isn't that proud of her scars, especially since some [not I] would find scars unattractive.)
("Pyrrha" actually does not mean 'fire', it means 'flame-colored', or 'red'. Red for the copious amounts of blood shed by Sophitia during her delivery, red for her baby hair [which turned blond later on - believe me, it happens. My baby pictures have me with black hair, which turned from black to blond, and is now a light brown/dark gold], etc. There is reason for the depiction of her birth, because it is important later on in the story.)
