Hello, and again sorry. I haven't gotten to replying to your reviews, but I swear I will. Onto the chapter now

Vocab:
Oud is a kind of incense coming from a special kind of wood. More about that in the AN at the bottom.
Klinē is the Ancient Greek/Ancient Roman version of a couch/bed
Gorgo is Leonidas' wife which makes her de facto Kassandra's grandmother - felt like adding some real female figures in here :)

Again, I had to play fast and loose with history/customs, my bad.

Eye of the Beholder

by Hazel Liebovsky

Chapitre Dix-Huit

The walk to Hippokrates' home was silent, only disturbed by Phoibe's occasional sniffling and pained moans.

Lara's heart ached every time she chanced a look in the girl's direction; her back was in bad shape. As bad as the archeologist's had been after the jaguar had latched onto her in Peru. But a twenty first-century medical kit, a stroke of luck, and Jonah's careful cleaning had ensured her wounds healed without infection - even in the middle of a humid jungle.

Phoibe - on the other hand - was a child, perhaps no older than fourteen, and visibly emaciated. Her body wouldn't be able to ward off the plague if it was already weakened by her wounds.

"We're almost there, little bird," she heard Kassandra say. "Hold on a little longer."

Little bird…

Jonah's favorite nickname for her. At least it used to be before Lara became just as obsessed with stopping Trinity as her father had been with trying to bring Amelia back to life. She shook her head, forcing the thoughts away. This wasn't the time to dwell on past mistakes and let regrets overcome her. The woman she'd turned into while hunting Trinity was gone.

Hippokrates struck an uncanny resemblance to the busts Lara had seen. The sculptors had done a splendid job at capturing his face in marble. He took one look at Kassandra's distraught eyes before rushing to them, examining Phoibe's back with care and gentle hands.

Phoibe, Lara noted, kept herself from weeping when he pried the chiton from her back. Dried blood had mated the fabric to her skin, making the endeavor even more painful for the girl. She clutched Kassandra's hand for dear life when the doctor started cleaning the gashes, letting out shuddering breaths with silent tears seeping through her eyelids.

"You're so brave," Kassandra kept whispering in her ear, running her fingers through Phoibe's hair. "It's almost over. I'm proud of you."

Looking at them from where she stood, Lara understood the full extent of Kassandra's breakdown the previous night. Phoibe had been as much a part of her as Alexios. The girl's death, like her brother's, had irremediably broken something within her.

"I can't let her die again," her words had been mingled with sobs the previous night, wet and desperate under Lara's chin."I won't let her die again."

The archeologist hadn't said anything, thoughts bouncing back and forth in her head; they had already altered the course of time. Saving Phoibe would bring its lot of consequences. But—

"Thank you," Kassandra's voice startled Lara out of her musings.

She blinked a couple of times, offering a sympathetic smile. "Don't mention it," Kassandra hadn't stopped her motions, continuing to run her fingers through Phoibe's hair even after the girl had fallen asleep.

"I..." her lips pursed. She averted the archeologist gaze for a few seconds, before refocusing on her. "I shouldn't have yelled at your friend. I'm sorry."

An impulsive outburst in the midst of a distressing situation, Lara could understand. What had surprised her was Kassandra's self-control; her calm demeanor as she stood idly weathering her younger self's rage, even with the knowledge that all it took was a simple flick of a finger to kill her, and yet...

"She doesn't blame you," the archeologist replied honestly, and shook her head. "She's the one who suggested I accompany you, actually."

Kassandra's face scrunched up, confusion fleeting in her eyes, the question on the tip of her lips. She looked around quickly, making sure they were alone and Phoibe was still sound asleep before she spoke again: "She's not really a slave, is she? You don't own her, do you?"

Lara shook her head, this at least she could reveal. "I never said I owned her," she paused. "Slavery… doesn't really exist where I'm from. We don't own people."

Not that way, at least, her mind supplied.

Something akin to wonder passed through those hazel eyes. A world without slavery was hard to imagine when it was the only thing one had known. Kassandra smiled a few moments later, "I would like to visit that country of yours, one day."

Lara felt herself grin. You already have… "It rains a lot."

This drew a quiet chuckle from the other woman. "I think I can live with that."

The moment was broken by the flickering light in the other room, hurried footsteps followed by hushed tones.

"Where is she?"

"Over there," Hippokrates' voice sounded.

It was the delicately scented oil that reached them first. The hints of oud and amber were titillating, although not overpowering. The scowl on Kassandra's face was instant, if not surprising. She turned her head just as a woman entered in a flurry of expensive fabric.

"Phoibe!" she gasped quietly. "Oh no, sweetheart…"

Lara froze, blood pumping wild and fast in her veins. It's…

When the woman tried to approach, Kassandra brought her index finger to her lips before gesturing for her to wait. Shifting Phoibe's body slowly until her head rested on the pillow, she stood up, stiff and glowering, gritting out, "We need to talk, Aspasia."

If she was surprised by the barely contained sneer, the woman didn't show it, only tilting her head before her attention was drawn to Lara's unmoving form. A shuddering chill rattled through the archeologist, raising goosebumps in its wake when Aspasia's eyes leveled on her again, studying her intently.

"Lara?" she almost jumped out of her skin when Kassandra called her name. Her hand clutched the leather of her gauntlet, making it creak and rub on her skin. "Can you look over Phoibe for me? I won't be long," the misthios gave her a small smile.

"Yes," she nodded, trying to keep the unease out of her voice, and walked towards the bed Phoibe was lying on - the cheetah curled at her feet, his head resting on her shins. "Take your time," she said as they stepped out of the room, leaving Lara with shallow breaths and a raging storm of thoughts in her mind.

Aspasia.

The Ghost, as innocuous as she was deadly. The worry that had seeped through her voice at the sight of Phoibe's back sounded genuine. Was that woman really leading the Cult of Kosmos? The same woman who had ruthlessly ordered Phoibe's death and lied to Kassandra's face about it? What were her motives? These thoughts kept bouncing in the archeologist's head, puzzling and upsetting her in equal measure.

There was shuffling in Lara's peripheral view, followed by a sleepy whimper. "...Kassandra?"

Her hand went to Phoibe's cheek on instinct, a light caress on her skin. "She will be back," the archeologist muttered.

More unintelligible mumbling came out of the girl's mouth before her eyes opened, blinking sluggishly under the candlelight. "You speak weird. But your voice is nice."

Lara puffed; her shoulders shaking with laughter a second later. Related or not, Phoibe had definitely taken on a few of Kassandra's most notable traits. "Thank you?"

And here she thought her accent had gotten better. The answer was a resounding no.

A sleepy smile appeared on the teenager's face. The very first one since their ordeal earlier that day. Lara returned it, running her fingers through dark hair the same way Kassandra had done a few minutes ago. "You should rest."

Phoibe's eyes drooped a little, she nodded, settling comfortably on the pillow. She blinked a few more times, studying Lara with rapt attention, uncertainty creasing her brow into a frown. "Will you stay with me until she comes back?" her voice was meek.

"Winston," she could hear her younger self ask. "Will you stay with me until Daddy comes back?"

"Always, Lady Lara. Always."

Lara's breath hitched, unease plummeting like a boulder in the pit of her stomach. She cleared her throat, swallowing back the lump that had lodged itself there. "Of course," she smiled, a small thing, haunted by the flashbacks of too many nights spent alone at the Manor, waiting at the window of Richard's empty office. Always waiting.

"Can you thank your friend?" Phoibe asked, drawing Lara out of her thoughts again. "For saving me."

The archeologist looked at her, eyes crinkling. "You should tell her yourself once you're healed, I'm sure she would appreciate it."

"Okay," Phoibe nodded at her, before she closed her eyes again, whispering a sleepy, "I will."

Kassandra wrapped the makeshift tourniquet around her bicep, one end trapped between her teeth to tighten the rope. She watched the blood pump through swelling veins, bluish bumps standing out against her skin. Kassandra tapped the inside of her elbow twice, releasing the end of the tourniquet and grabbing the lancet she had left in scorching water.

The incision, coupled with the high temperature made her hiss as she stretched her elbow over a bowl, blood trickling down in rivulets when she tilted her arm, opening and closing her fist around a bundle of cloth.

It was the third time tonight, and her body was beginning to protest. She had started to feel light-headed after the first draw, popping figs in her mouth to counter the dizziness had merely slowed the process. The second one had been a risky affair; her hands were shaking so much that Kassandra had almost dropped the bowl and all its content when she had poured it in the pot.

Kassandra leaned back on the chair, squinting at the blurry moon shining through the window. She could feel her heartbeat quickening again, struggling, pumping wildly to compensate for the loss. Her movements were sluggish and sweat pearled down her forehead, leaving it gleaming under the tangerine candlelight.

Three draws in just a couple of hours was pushing the limits of her body; Kassandra could feel herself drifting, closing her eyes and startling awake with no recollection of falling asleep. But she couldn't afford to pass out, lest Lara came back and found her half-dead on the floor, drenched in her own blood - that explanation promised to be awkward.

The plan was desperate, she knew, but they were running out of time. Kassandra had wanted to come to Athens months ago to extract Phoibe out of the city and away from Aspasia's clutches before the Eagle Bearer had even paid Xenia. But they had been sidetracked, dealing with the siege in Mykonos, sailing to and from Chios... She had no other choice but to improvise now.

Kassandra sniffled, whipping the beads of sweat from her eyes with the back of her hand. A few more minutes... just a few more minutes, and she would have enough blood. For tonight, at least.

Four liters. That's how much she needed, enough to lure the Eagle Bearer's cheetah into tracking her scent. Enough to trick Kassandra and leave no ambiguity about Phoibe's fate, even without a body to mourn.

Just a few more minutes... her eyes closed.

"Are you daft?!"

Kassandra jerked awake, feeling a searing hot hand on the clammy, cold skin of her neck. "Wait, no…" her words were hushed, tinged with exhaustion. Lara dragged the chair away from the table, turned it around without ceremony and nearly knocked the pot and bowl over with her brusque motions.

"Don't touch... don't..." Kassandra slurred, leaning over to reach the table. She blinked at the two bowls; she could have sworn there had only been one earlier. "Wait. I have to—"

"Like hell you do," Lara chastised, cupping her face before slapping her cheek lightly when Kassandra's head lolled to the side.

"Ouch—hey!" she startled awake again. Had she passed out?

"How many fingers do you see?" the archeologist held her hand up in front of her.

Kassandra frowned, trying to focus. "I don't know... blurry…" she was so tired, but she needed to... needed to... "I need..."

"You need rest," Lara turned around, eyeing the pot. "How much blood did you draw?" Kassandra wanted to answer, but the woman shushed her right away with one scalding look. "I can't believe you just…" her sentence ended in a defeated sigh.

Lara pressed a clean cloth to the inside of her bruised elbow, drawing another pained hiss from the other woman when she bandaged it. Lifting Kassandra up by the arm, she half-dragged her towards the klinē, and leaned forward. "Lie down."

Kassandra took one look at Lara's scowling face and opted not to protest. All her strength had been sapped by her earlier activities. "Please don't be mad," she whispered, feeling the tension radiating from the young woman.

The acute pinch of guilt was already weighing in her ribcage. Lara's incredulous blinking and blank face managed to increase it tenfold. Closing her eyes, she only heard the sigh before feeling the caress of the archeologist's fingers on her cheek, sweeping the hair away from her sweaty forehead. "I'm not upset, Kassandra," her voice softened. "What were you thinking?"

She sounded more weary than anything, actually. Lara was probably tired of dealing with her. Kassandra would be tired too, in her place. She smiled with her eyes still closed. "I feel like we keep doing this," the woman slurred out, choosing not to answer her question.

Lara's hand hadn't left her face, but Kassandra felt her move, the klinē dipping under her weight as she sat closer and got more comfortable. "Doing what?"

Clearly on the high-pitched side, Kassandra's chuckle was foreign to her own ears somehow, she sounded drunk. "Me getting hurt, you nursing me back to life while scolding me."

Lara puffed out a snort. Kassandra could picture her smile, even with her eyes still closed. "Stop getting hurt, then," her voice sounded a lot closer.

"I'm sorry, have you met me?" Kassandra cracked one eye open, grinning up at Lara before her attention was drawn to the other woman's lips.

Lara gave her a beautiful smile. "I have, yes. Both of you."

That sobered Kassandra almost immediately. Her lips twitched down, she kept silent for a little while. The events of the day unfolded in her head like some twisted auto-replay; Phoibe's ear-shattering cry after each crack of the whip. Kassandra had shouldered her way through the crowd, catching the cursed lash around her forearm just before it struck again. She had almost broken the man's neck with it. That maláka would have been slinking down the Styx with the whip up his ass, had Lara and her younger self arrived a few minutes later.

"How is Phoibe?"

The archeologist cupped her cheek, prompting her to look up again, before she said, "Better. Hippokrates tended to her wounds..." her tongue poked out to slide over her lower lip. "And I slipped something... more modern in the mix, when he wasn't looking," Kassandra's eyes widened, prompting Lara to add hastily, "Nothing too obvious, but it will ward off the infection."

"Thank you," she said in a breath, eyes shining in gratitude. "Thank you."

Lara didn't respond, only acknowledging her with a small nod before she retreated into her head for a bit.

"I saw Aspasia," she said. Kassandra's lips drew in a thin line, anger simmering anew within her. "We didn't talk," Lara continued. "Kas—the Eagle Bearer was upset. Took her outside when she came into the room."

"Did you hear what they said?"

The archeologist shook her head. Kassandra scoffed; knowing Aspasia, she had probably managed to persuade her other self that she had tried everything to convince Phoibe not to go out, but the girl wouldn't take no for an answer. The same way she'd done when Kassandra had snapped at her, after Phoibe's death.

"She told me she would be alright... She lived to help others. She lived to help you."

Kassandra should have sprayed the walls of the Parthenon with Aspasia's blood that day, like Deimos had Perikles. Twisting her words and feeding off Kassandra's grief to guilt her. She hadn't said the words, of course, she hadn't. But they rang all the same:

It was your fault. She was out to help you and you got her killed.

"She invited me to a symposium, tomorrow night."

Kassandra frowned, processing the information as fast as her reeling, sluggish brain would allow. "Aspasia?"

Lara poked her nose with a finger and chuckled. "Kassandra did."

"Ah," she blinked slowly at the archeologist before nodding once. "Good. You should go."

The confusion on Lara's face was unexpected, something fleeting passed through her eyes, an odd glint that Kassandra might have been able to decipher if she hadn't been running on two and a half brain cells now.

Lara opened her mouth, closed it and opened it again, then closed it. "Why?" she asked, eyes narrowed in a squint.

It took five agonizing seconds of blank staring for Kassandra to finally understand what Lara was getting at. "No, no, no," she shook her head vigorously, which did nothing to alleviate the residual queasiness of her bloodletting. "It's not—I'm not trying to…" she trailed off with a deep sigh, frustrated at her brain's ineptitude to form coherent words.

Kassandra blinked a few times. She took Lara's hand from her cheek and squeezed her fingers, before giving it another go: "How many of your peers ever had the chance to attend a real symposium?" she asked. The archeologist's mouth hung open, realization shining in her eyes. The other woman grinned, nodding again. "Once in a lifetime experience."

Lara's face lit up just as suddenly. "Come with me?"

Kassandra mulled over the offer, looking at their joined hands. She needed a break from sweeping the nearby Cultist camps for clues about Deimos' whereabouts and plotting Phoibe's escape. Besides, Lara would probably slap her silly if she saw her draw any more blood.

Alkibiades, Sokrates, Aristophanes, and probably Herodotos too, they would all be there. Friends she hadn't seen in more than two thousand years. Their deaths had trampled her bruised and battered heart like a sledgehammer. One loss after the other, every few decades until there was no one left to mourn.

"I…" she breathed out, looking Lara in the eyes. "I would love to, but I can't. To see them again…" she blinked, feeling the familiar burn of tears behind her eyes. "It's too hard," the sigh that came out of her mouth was heavy, laced with grief. "I almost slipped with Phoibe earlier. If you hadn't held me back, I—"

Lara pressed her fingers to Kassandra's lips, the realization of what she was asking finally sinking in. The light in her eyes dimmed, becoming forlorn and apologetic. "You don't have to explain," she shook her head. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't…" the archeologist trailed off, giving her a self-deprecating smile. "I get excited over things and I just, I want to share them with you," she blurted. Musing over what she'd just said, she added: "Which is absurd, now that I think about it, because you already know all of this, of course," her tone was clearly dry. "You've lived this."

Kassandra squinted, wondering for a second if she was imagining the flush creeping on Lara's cheeks. The delighted grin on her face turned into a laugh, one that filled the whole room and confused Lara even more.

"I will be there in spirit," she winked, once recovered from her giggling. "We will go shopping tomorrow, you need a better outfit."

The archeologist's perplexed stare told her that Lara was definitely not impressed with that.

Her mouth opened halfway, but Kassandra raised her free hand and halted the young woman's complaint on the tip of her lips. "Don't even start. I had to do it too, back then. Now it's your turn, you have to make a good first impression. Cargo pants and climbing axes don't exactly scream refined."

Lara's quirked brow and affronted eye twitch were telling. "Are you done insulting me, or is there more you need to get off your chest?" she said in the poshest, sassiest intonations Kassandra had ever heard her use yet.

That made her smirk. Lara could give just as much as she got. "It depends, did that tick your sensibilities, Countess?"

The fingers that had been running through her hair froze, as Lara's mouth opened and closed several times, reminding Kassandra of a goldfish. She settled on a weak: "Don't call me that," probably aware that her full family tree was just a Google search away. "You twit," she chastised halfheartedly.

Kassandra laughed again. "We say maláka, here. I told you."

They shared a long look, and this time she didn't have to squint, she could see it as plain as day: the enamored fondness swirling in those brown eyes. Her gaze was drawn to Lara's lips again. If she craned her neck just a little…

The trance was broken by Lara herself, blinking a few times and scrunching up her nose, seemingly remembering something. "You never told me you were royalty," she said.

The other woman's eyebrows creased in a frown at the statement. There was a cheeky smirk on the archeologist's lips, clearly proud at having caught her off guard. And that smile – that smile was making Kassandra feel all sorts of things.

"I thought you knew?"

She shook her head, shifting her body and lying down next to the other woman before letting out a content sigh. "Speculation only. You could be queen, you know?"

Well, now, that was just absurd.

Kassandra's snort was loud, holding none of the restraint of her alleged rank. "I don't have citizenship," she chuckled wryly. "And I would make an awful queen."

"The next Gorgô," the archeologist mused out loud, lost in her head. "Or Artemisia, perhaps…"

Lara casually referencing her grandmother as an inspiration was making Kassandra's heart do somersaults in her ribcage. Myrrine had rarely talked about her; Gorgô died more than two decades before Kassandra was even born. She did, naturally, quote a few of her mother's exploits at court, when she wanted to teach her daughter a lesson. But of the woman herself, Kassandra knew almost nothing.

She shuffled a little on the klinē, moving to her side to accommodate Lara. It wasn't big enough for two without her having to lean back and squish herself against the wall.

"You really think so?" she asked timidly, almost tentatively.

Lara turned her head to look at her and hummed. "I'm sure Sparta would have been very different, if you had ascended to the throne. In a good way," the thought of reading about Kassandra's accomplishments in one of her dusty books was oddly intriguing:

Kassandra of House Agiad, the first of her name, Queen of Sparta. It had a satisfying ring to it, they both agreed.

Would she have put a stop to the war peacefully, had she had the political means to do so? Would the Cult have tried to sway and corrupt her like it had Pausanias? Could she have saved Brasidas? Could she have changed Sparta's ruthless ways?

Questions swirled in her head – alternate scenarios, maybes, what-ifs and could-have-beens flashing before her eyes like an unfinished film reel. Kassandra's chest rose and fell with a deep, exhausted sigh. "Maybe in another life," she muttered.

Maybe then, she could have shaped history differently. She could have lived and died in the light; have been remembered, instead of rotting away in the shadows of history for Gods know how long.

There was a small smile on her lips. As small as the innocuous detail popping up in her head. "Besides, this would have been impossible," she picked up. "Since my pater isn't Spartan."

That was enough to make Lara shift and prop herself up on her elbow to look down at her. That position only accentuated their proximity, Kassandra could feel small puffs of air caressing her cheek every time the other woman breathed. "Nikolaos?" she asked, a mix of curiosity and wonder lacing her words.

Kassandra shook her head, staring up at the dark ceiling when her scrambled brain struggled to focus, distracted by Lara's mouth. "Nikolaos raised me, but he isn't my biological father. My real pater is from Samos, actually."

Only Barnabas and Herodotos knew the truth about her real lineage. Her relationship with Pythagoras, or lack thereof, had prompted her not to talk about it. Opening up about him wasn't easy - there were still things Kassandra wouldn't be able to reveal - but what little she could, she wanted to share with Lara.

"You've met him?"

Kassandra chuckled. "Yes," she paused; her eyes were still twinkling when she looked back at the archaeologist. "Remember when we were on Thera?"

That was almost two years ago now. "You mean, when you left me outside?" Lara joked, nudging her playfully.

"Yes, that time," Kassandra laughed again, catching her wrist in the air and squeezing her hand. "I told you I needed to talk to someone."

Lara nodded. "I remember," her smile fell a few seconds later, face turning grave. "He wanted you to have children."

"Duty," Kassandra conceded with a small nod. "That's how he called it. For him too, I guess," her other hand gestured limply to herself. It took a lot of inner strength not to sneer - the mere thought of that conversation was enough to make bile rise up her throat. "Maláka that he is."

"Does the Eagle Bearer know?" Lara asked, steering her away from the fire pit of bitterness and resentment licking at her feet. "About him?"

Kassandra cleared her throat. "I think so? I went to look for him after finding my mater," if the Eagle Bearer was here in Athens, that meant Myrrine could be on the Adrestia as well. Or on her way to Lakonia to reclaim their house. "She won't tell you, either way. Meeting with him wasn't exactly pleasant the first time. Or the others," and she doubted her intervention had mellowed the old man. He was too far gone to care.

Lara nodded, processing the information. Her eyes had an odd shine to them, Kassandra noticed it almost right away. She wanted to say something but didn't dare to ask.

Kassandra gave her a little nudge. "What is it?"

It took a full minute of inner negotiation and back and forth mental parlay for the archeologist to finally speak. She moved, resting her cheek on the pillow to face Kassandra. "Your mother," she whispered, their breath mingling with each puff. "I know you said it was hard but…" her eyes flickered away then back when she swallowed. "You have a chance to see her again."

Don't let it go to waste, the silence spoke for her.

Two years ago, Kassandra's every muscle would have stiffened, affronted at the mere thought of a stranger telling her what to do. She had sailed across Greece for years to find her mother, had shed blood, tears, sweat and drachmae by the thousand for any crumb of information on Myrrine's whereabouts. She had single-handedly tipped the war in Sparta's favor for her mater, coming back from Boeotia with her skin seared by scars and drenched in Stentor's blood. Nikolaos mournful gaze was forever etched in her memory.

But Lara wasn't a stranger anymore, and she wasn't offering her shallow words of comfort. She spoke from a place they both knew. Of loss and missed opportunities, of talks never had and feelings never spoken. Of yearning and phantom embraces.

She took the time to ponder her response, mulling it over in her head as her gaze retraced Lara's features. Kassandra knew she had Myrrine's eyes; and the shadow of Leonidas - of her family, down to Alexios - revealed itself in the sharp lines of her jaw. It was fainter in the crease between her eyebrows when she squinted, something she only knew because of that time the spear had given her a vision of his last moments in Thermopylae.

Staring at Lara now, she wondered how much of her parents there was in her. What traits were unmistakingly her mother's or father's? Was it in the curve of her nose? The shape of her eyes, maybe? Or in the plump of her lips when she smiled?

"I don't know if it's a good idea," Kassandra answered honestly. "Our last meeting was…" her eyes went downcast, mind swirling with images of Myrrine's anguish. "When Alexios died."

She could still hear her mother bone-chilling wails, the desperate pounding of frail fists against the linothorax as Myrrine pushed her away. Kassandra could feel each blow weighting on her chest, even after all this time.

"You said you would bring him home, Kassandra... You said you would bring him home!"

Her mouth opened, quivering with a shuddering breath. "I know it's different now," their eyes met again. "It hasn't happened yet, and I want to believe it won't. But if I see her, I don't…" Kassandra's tongue poked out, wetting her lips. "I don't know what I would do," she finished helplessly. "I don't know what to say to her."

She had expected Lara to argue her point, maybe talk her into it – Gods know the archeologist could and Kassandra would cave in.

"I'm sorry," was her only reply. Lara's hand traveled to her face, caressing Kassandra's cheek with the back of her fingers, the gesture so innocently intimate that it left her at a loss and torn by the yearning to lean in and taste her lips.

Kiss her, the thought in her head, not fleeting this time, reflected in the other woman's eyes, she could see it. Kiss her. Kiss her.

She knew Lara wouldn't pull away.

Kiss her.

Maybe she'd even respond.

Kiss her. Do it.

"I have something for you," Kassandra blurted instead, purposely breaking the moment, as her mind screamed in confusion. Coward, coward, coward, it chanted.

"W-what?" Lara's voice was hoarse. She blinked a few times, taking a moment to get her bearings. Her brows creased into a frown when she withdrew her hand, the heat of her touch lingering on the other woman's cheek.

Kassandra felt the familiar churning of apprehension in the pit of her stomach. "It's in my bag, wrapped in wool. Go get it."

Lara moved away, shifting to stand up, her body still abuzz. She was a bit light-headed, heartbeat pulsing through her veins and a flush she could already feel creeping on her face. Blowing a discreet puff through her overheated cheeks, she went to grab Kassandra's bag near the waterpot, fishing blindly inside it until something coarse touched her fingers.

Lara brought it under the flickering candles on the table, hearing Kassandra move to sit upright on the couch. The neatly wrapped bundle of grey fabric was tied with yarn. The bow in the knot brought a smile to the archaeologist's lips. "Almost looks like a gift," she said, in passing.

Kassandra cleared her throat, but didn't answer.

Lara turned around, holding the bundle close to her ear and shaking it. There was a faint, muffled clinking coming from it. "What is it?"

"An iPhone, obviously," Kassandra replied dryly and moved to the side, leaving enough room for the archeologist to settle next to her. "Come on," she grinned, white teeth gleaming under the orange hues of the candles when Lara nudged her shoulder. "Open it."

Lara bit her lip, eyes flickering to Kassandra's mouth again. It took a few seconds to tear her gaze away and look down. Her index finger wrapped around the yarn and gave it a small tug, then a harder one when it didn't budge. Lara's head tilted, nose scrunching up, utterly confused by the knot.

"It's easier with more fingers, Lara," Kassandra quipped before cringing when her brain processed the appalling double entendre. At least, Alkibiades would have been proud.

The archeologist lifted her head in slow motion, one eyebrow quirked until Kassandra started squirming under her gaze. Lara unknotted the bundle with one finger, pointedly keeping her eyes on Kassandra the whole time. "There," she said with a self-satisfied smirk, dangling the yarn between them a few seconds later. "Sometimes one is enough."

Kassandra's brows shot up, visibly taken aback by her remark. She puffed a few seconds later, admitting defeat with a small tilt of the head, and a knowing smile.

The wool opened, revealing a black leather arm guard. Lara gathered it in the palm of her hand, lifting it up to examine the bracer. It was handmade; crafted with care, small cuts of light tan leather ran along its length, laced together with crisscrossed strings to wrap and tighten around the arm. Lara's fingers hovered over the guard, following the intricate patterns sewn on the side without touching it.

"It's…" she started, awe seeping from her voice. "It's really beautiful."

The craftsmanship... a piece like that must have taken dozens of hours to make, if not more. She turned it around in her palm, sliding her thumb inside. The fabric there was soft and even, made to cover the forearm without hindering its motion.

"I tried to find something smoother for the..." Kassandra's voice was a low whisper, tinted with uncertainty. "The doubling, but..." Lara saw her shrug helplessly. "Modern tools are hard to come by here," she finished with a wry chuckle while scratching her cheek.

"You... you made it?"

"I had a lot of time to kill while you were in Chios," hazel eyes shimmered under the candlelight. "There are still specs of blood on the linen inside, if you look closely," Kassandra touched the tips of her index finger and thumb together, frowning at them.

Lara's brain short-circuited when she processed the information. She blinked once, twice, three times while gaping at her. "I... uh," her eyes flickered back and forth from the armguard to the woman sitting next to her. "But why?"

Kassandra's face was stranded halfway between surprise and doubt. The question had thrown her off; she blew through her rapidly flushing cheeks and ran one hand through her hair, sheepish. "Happy birthday?"

The words came out in a weak croak, but it was the bashful, nervous smile tugging at her lips that made Lara swoon while her insides turned into mush.

This bloody woman was going to be the death of her.

"It's already passed," she chuckled, her cheeks stretching into a wide, delighted grin. She glanced at the hand glove beneath the bracer. Refined leather, thin but sturdy and light, made to fit like a second skin. Perfect for wielding a bow. Kassandra had really thought of everything.

"I know," the woman replied, fidgeting awkwardly, but still holding her gaze when Lara looked at her. "I was going to give it to you on the ship, but..."

Yamatai.

The archeologist's eyes softened. They shared a long look, and she nodded in understanding, squeezing Kassandra's hand on her lap. Lara had a big smile firmly glued to her face, elated.

"Thank you," she said in a breath, not thinking twice before leaning over to press her lips on Kassandra's cheek.

Maybe Kassandra saw it as an incoming prank, or maybe it was just reflexes. But as Lara leaned in towards her, no doubt to kiss her cheek or something equally innocent, she found herself tracking the woman's movements with her own face - in more of a twitch than fluid motion - and accidentally caught the archeologist's lips with her own.

Lara drew back sharply, freezing into place.

The air around them changed almost right away, crackling with unexpected tension. Something flashed in Kassandra's startled face, her whole body going rigid immediately. The sluggishness that had accompanied her every move since Lara had found her half-passed out over the table was gone, replaced by nervous anticipation and bewilderment.

Kassandra was very much awake now, and staring intently at her lips. A glint flickered in her eyes, a messy contradiction of panic, guilt, and raw hunger soaring within. Lara saw it as much as felt its echo through her own body, heat rose from her fluttering stomach, all the way to her chest. Her mouth opened, letting out a quivering breath.

Kassandra's hand went up, slow and deliberate. Measured, careful to give Lara all the time to pull away. Her thumb hovered over the young woman's lips, yearning hazel eyes retracing its path. The room was silent, only disturbed by the deep exhales of Kassandra's flared nostrils.

The only times Lara had heard her breathe like this, like the act itself was painstakingly exhausting, was when she had just woken up from death. Kassandra's fingers slid along the line of her jaw, their caress drawing Lara further into her touch.

It was only when Kassandra tore her scorching gaze away from Lara's lips that she noticed how the conflicting emotions had turned into a raging storm, a swirling battle that was tearing the woman apart from the inside, bludgeoning past her façade of caution.

More…

Kassandra's eyes jammed shut a second later, a pained expression clouded her face. She drew another shuddering breath, letting her fingers fall from Lara's lips.

No... No, no, no. Don't.

Lara didn't want her pulling away. They couldn't—they couldn't keep going like this. Not with Kassandra's feelings crawling to the surface and threatening to make her burst. Not with Lara's own, that had grown increasingly hard to ignore when not a day had passed without the words trying to fight their way out of her mouth before the young woman stifled and forced them back every time.

"I can't..." Kassandra's whimper shook her to the core, trembling fingers clasped around the archeologist's wrists. "Please, I can't—"

"Shh," Lara cupped her face gently, bringing it closer to press their foreheads together. She could feel Kassandra's eyelashes fluttering on her skin with each blink.

Silence wrapped around the two women, their breath mingling with each slow exhale. Her hands hadn't left Kassandra's cheeks, fingers running back and forth to appease the turmoil she could feel radiating under the woman's skin. For a while they stayed like that, gentle touches until the pained crease on Kassandra's brow smoothed out and her steeled jaw relaxed.

Eyes downcast, Lara slid her tongue across her lip before she spoke, "I'm going to kiss you now."

She angled her head to briefly touch Kassandra's nose with her own, taking another breath. Her hand traveled, resting on the woman's neck, the side of Lara's thumb drawing soothing motions along her jaw, prompting Kassandra to tilt her head.

The first touch was barely there, the ghostly caress of Lara's lower lip on her mouth. Kassandra breathed against it; a warm gust, a mewl rising in the back of her throat before she leaned in and caught Lara's mouth.

The soft, quivering pressure was fleeting, gone as quick as it had come, leaving the younger woman to chase it back. Her fingers gave a light push on Kassandra's neck, shifting her face and kissing her fully.

Lara swallowed Kassandra's hiccup, the touch of her lips remaining gentle but frank. Like the first breath after being underwater, the young woman felt dizzy, surging with energy - goosebumps breaking out all over her body.

Kassandra's hands left her wrists and trailed towards her sides, before they circled her back and clutched her clothes in white-knuckled fists. She whimpered again, opening her mouth and bringing Lara against her body at the first curious caress of the young woman's tongue. Kassandra's tentative response was met with a quiet sigh.

It felt nothing like her dreams; where Kassandra had been commanding, intimidating, on the verge of rough in those, she was now pliant and soft. Afraid. So afraid that it made Lara's heart ache for this woman who felt too much yet wouldn't allow herself the luxury of letting go. She pulled away, barely, pecking her mouth once, twice, before catching Kassandra's upper lip and nibbling.

Lara felt the woman's breath against her skin when she leaned back, sitting halfway across her lap and the klinē. Kassandra was looking back, eyes shining, gleaming under the tangerine light. When the tears threatened to fall, and her mouth opened, ready to deny everything that had just happened, Lara shushed her with another press of her lips, unhurried, pouring all of her reassurance through each careful swipe of her tongue.

It's okay.

Drinking in the feeling, Lara ran her hands through Kassandra's loose hair and pulled away from those lips again to pepper her nose, chin and cheeks with soft kisses.

This is okay.

Kassandra's head burrowed in the crook of her neck, arms still circling her frame. In her embrace, Lara could feel each shuddering puff of air on her burning skin, each rise and fall of Kassandra's chest, matching her own.

They didn't speak, frozen in time, refusing to let go until exhaustion prompted them to lie down. Lara laid halfway on top of her, as the chirping of waking birds sounded and the first blue light of morning crept through the nooks and crannies of the planks on the window, casting the room in a purple tinted hue.

Even when Morpheus finally claimed the archeologist, Kassandra remained awake, staring at the ceiling through blurry eyes.

Finally, amarite? :D Boy did that last scene give me a struggle. I hope you liked it because I grew another patch of white hair just writing this thing. It changed so many times from my first draft to this final version holy mother of shit.

Again, there's no way Kass would have had any claim to the throne, but for the sake of this story, let's just pretend Sparta was even more inclusive of its female subjects, yeah? They got to go to school, at least.

Pythagoras was born in Samos. Yep. And yes I shifted the timeline a little bit, I know Kass goes looking for him after Athens but… yeah no.

Related to Aspasia wearing oud oil/incense: oud literally means wood in Arabic, and it smells great - very relaxing, you can usually smell in places like mosques or open markets, at an apothecary in the Middle East or North Africa. Considering Aspasia comes from Melitus in Persia, where it was/is used a lot, I'd say that's a subtle fuck you to those who only saw her as a foreign prostitute? Like, she's not trying to hide who she is to blend in. She owns that part of her, wears it on her skin, but at the same time she'll talk circles around Athenian elites because she's just that good.

I'd love to hear your thought about this chapter :D (finally!)