A/N: Alright, so welcome all to my new story, entitled, The Guardians. I know most of you are probably put off by the name but I assure you, this has nothing to do with Artemis or her hunters or any annoyingly overused Guardian of the Hunt shite. As usual, all rights go to Rick Riordan and tell me what you think with a review, comment, vote or kudos. I'll be extremely pleased if this story gets as much support as my others. I hope you check out my other stories too, if you like this one. Thanks to fallenbabybubu on discord for betaing this! Thank you for giving my writing a chance. Enjoy the story!
-TripleHomicide.
(Also, this entire work is dedicated to my friend, theevilteddybear, whose story ACOGL inspired this one. And it's also loosely based on FMAB, which she introduced me to, but shh)
THE QUEEN WAS ON HER WAY TO HER CHAMBERS WHEN THE WHITE-CLOAKED MAN APPEARED.
It was dark out. The palace in the polis of Tiryns was silent as death itself. The Queen was leaving the Ruler of Mycenae's chambers after a long night. She walked in tandem with her four handmaidens, their footsteps echoing through the passage. The stone walls were lined with torches, which reflected off the ground and the Queen kept her head up as she passed a few guards.
Her husband was worried. They were yet to have a male child and he was afraid that the crown would be given to his brother upon his death. He was afraid that his family would lose everything he had toiled for. The Queen tried not to let her emotions show on her face as she walked. She tried not to let her handmaidens see how badly her conversation with the King had gone.
The woman suddenly tensed when she felt the air turn cold. She stopped and stiffened, eyes narrowed. They had walked into one of the many passages she had to pass to get to her chambers and like most of the others, this passage was empty. But her skin was tingling. Her senses were going into overdrive, like something…someone was trying to warn her that something bad was about to happen.
SHE BARELY HEARD HIS FEET TOUCH THE GROUND.
The Lady of the Court of Mycenae turned suddenly when she heard the sound of a sword being drawn from its scabbard. Her eyes widened in shock when she spotted him. He was wrapped in a blinding white cloak, with a hood which dropped so low that his eyes were covered. She could see a white sword in his hands and the Queen could feel the cold radiating from the man's very presence. She pursed her lips as she tried to keep her voice steady.
Tried not to let her fear show.
"Who are you?" Her handmaidens were silent beside her, their eyes wide as they each viewed the attacker, shaking. "How did you get into the palace?"
The man looked up and the Queen gasped, along with the women at her side.
"I am an Old One," He said, his metallic voice causing the fires in the passage to dim. His aura was overbearing, to such an extent that the Queen felt as though she was choking. As she stared into his pure white eyes—eyes which were glowing, she spotted a diadem on his head, with a crystal embedded in it, filled with images of a clear sky. "And you are my prey."
He passed them a savage smile, the corners of his lips tilting up into a horrible, twisted smile. And then he stepped forward.
THE PRINCESS OF MYCENAE WASN'T SUPPOSED TO BE OUT THAT EVENING.
Piper, Princess of the polis of Tiryns—the city which governed all of Mycenae—the daughter of King Tristan, laughed at something her handmaiden had said. The red-haired girl by her side had a wicked sense of humour that never failed to put a smile on her face. They were sneaking back to her chambers after a wild night out of the palace and into the city beyond. The girl with the freckles splashed across her face—Piper's handmaiden—Rachel, suddenly tensed by her side in the darkness of the night.
Piper adjusted her brown cloak, the one she habitually wore on her way out of the palace. Rachel hadn't needed to hide her face like Piper had. She didn't have a whole city of suitors proposing to her every second of the day. Rachel's throat bobbed and her eyes narrowed, "Did you hear that?"
Piper's brow creased in question. "What?"
She could see her handmaiden's eyes darkening, her hands going to her side, to draw the trusty knife she carried around everywhere. "I thought I heard a scream." Piper frowned at her words. She hadn't heard anything. The palace was silent, except for their breaths, short and low. And then suddenly she heard it. A ripple of sound cut through the entire palace, louder than before, sending chills up Piper's spine.
Pain. Fear. Panic. She could detect the three emotions from the loud yell which reverberated throughout the dark palace inhabited by the royals and their servants. Instantly, Rachel was grabbing her arms, "We need to get you to your chambers." Piper's eyes were wide as she allowed herself to be dragged along. Then the scream sounded again. She heard footsteps, people, soldiers, running towards the sound. The whole palace had come alive.
"No," Piper suddenly stopped. "It's mother! Mother's in trouble." She would recognize the voice anywhere. The voice of the mother who did not love her. The pained and raw voice of a queen who shunned her daughter and glared condescendingly anytime Piper entered the room because Piper was not her own. The woman Piper had been trying to please since she had been brought into the world.
"We have to go help her!" Piper tore her arm away from Rachel, prepared to take off, but then the redhead grabbed her again. "Let go of me, Rachel," She hissed. "Let go."
"I can't, Princess," She answered. "Your life is my priority."
"I order it!" She said, wrenching her hand away once again. "As your princess and heiress, I order you to help her."
"You're not a Queen yet, Lady Piper," Rachel said through gritted teeth. Her normal bright green eyes were replaced by pools of dark and murky emerald ones. "You have no power to order me around. Not yet. And not while your father is still King."
Piper was silent. She flinched as another scream tore the air. "Please. Please, let me help her." Rachel gazed into her ever-changing eyes and her look of anger became one of pity. "Fine," The girl said. "Remember that it's your fault if you lose me or yourself, to death."
SHE WAS WEAK. SHE COULD NOT SAVE WHAT MATTERED MOST.
Piper and Rachel skidded to a stop at the far end of the passage. Bodies littered the ground. Blood flowed like a pool, staining the princess's sandals a shade of crimson red. It made her shudder in repulsion. She couldn't see properly. Just four bodies, which lay on the ground, lifeless, listless. Their peploses, similar to Rachel's, stained red, gaping wounds in their bodies. Her mother's handmaidens were dead.
Piper could see the Queen herself, engaged in combat with the man in the white hood. She wielded a simple dagger, which Piper had no doubt would give out to the onslaught from the mysterious man. But her mother was excellent with the dagger. It was the only weapon she had allowed herself to be taught to use. Piper felt a sob choke in her throat and die there. Although she resented her mother for never acknowledging her, she didn't want her life to end.
Piper took a decisive step forward, but Rachel was quicker. She hadn't seen her friend flush red in the face when they had arrived. She had not seen Rachel tense, trying to repress her memories…She didn't see Rachel grit her teeth or clench her fist.
And she certainly didn't expect to see her handmaiden running to the man while screaming bloody murder and holding the knife in an icepick grip.
"Unhand her, you fiend!" She snarled as she ran. Piper watched, unable to move—unable to join the girl to try to save the Queen.
Rachel's dagger stabbed forward and as the man sidestepped, his white hood flew off, revealing pure white hair which fell to his shoulders, a well-trimmed beard, and milky white cataracts. The diadem on his forehead was glowing. His cloak was a blinding shade of white and although he had already killed four people, his cloak wasn't sullied with blood. It was spotless.
Piper froze in her spot. Rachel spun, slashing upwards, determined to slit the intruder's throat. Her arm seemed to freeze when she made eye contact with him. He gave her a wide smile, and Rachel seemed to be struggling against a sort of force. Suddenly, her arm surged forward and Piper was almost sure she would strike the man through his cloak.
She was frozen in fear, her feet unable to move. She wanted to help Rachel. She wanted to help so badly but she couldn't. She didn't know why. She glanced at her mother, her arms shaking, her eyes widened. The Queen had passed out from fear and exhaustion.
Piper glanced back at the man, just as Rachel's dagger made contact with his cloak. The dagger shattered against the white material, and Rachel let out a gasp. The man's smile grew and he flicked his wrists, sending his knives out in an icepick grip. Piper was suddenly able to move. Just as Rachel staggered back, the man stabbed forward, his knives embedding themselves in Rachel's chest.
The redhead let out a gasp of pain and collapsed forward. The man released his grip on the knives, and Rachel slumped downwards until the two silver weapons were sticking out of her body, coated in blood, the tips protruding out on the other side of her body.
Piper was unable to stop the man from killing the daughter of the General, the fierce girl she had grown up with.
"No!" Piper was running in a second after that. She didn't know what propelled her forward. Just the thought that she had to try to save her best friend. As Piper ran, the man looked up. An unsettling grin met her, wide, bright cataracts as eyes, glowing in the darkness, seemed to laugh at her.
Piper felt tears pool in her eyes as she fell next to her dying friend. They streamed down her face as she watched the man take her mother away, fading into white mist, his voice echoing through the passage. Goodbye, Princess.
She was a coward.
SHE WAS SUPPOSED TO HAVE STOPPED PRACTISING MAGIC YEARS AGO.
Piper cried for the first time in ten years.
She cried, tears falling out of her eyes, blurring her vision, making her head ache. She grasped Rachel's hands, held on to her like she was a lifeline. Like it would keep her alive. "Please," She cried softly. "You can't leave me, Rachel. You can't die on me." She could hear Rachel's laboured breaths. Hear her stuttering and struggling to inhale.
"I…I failed you," Rachel's voice was low. Piper cried harder. She couldn't lose Rachel. Not after everything. Not after all they'd gone through together.
"You didn't," She murmured, tears still falling from her face. "You were the best friend I ever had."
"I'm…glad, Piper," Rachel sighed. "I'm…g-glad I met you." Piper sobbed, louder this time. "You won't die, Rachel," She tried to say, her hold on her friend tightening. Piper muttered again, "I'll get a medic, a physician, anything!"
She could feel Rachel slipping away. She could hear her taking her last breaths, the daggers, still in her chest, glowing slightly. She heard Rachel let out one last breath. Piper screamed. She looked towards the sky, pleading, shouting to the gods above them, who didn't seem to care for anything anymore. The gods whom she had never believed in until then.
"Please! Give her back!" Her face was running with tears. She screamed, tore her throat raw, shouted to every god she knew. "She's all I had! She's my sister! Give her back!" At her last words, she grabbed something, anything. Her fingers clasped around the white cloak Rachel had died holding. It was bloodied now, red, like what was staining the walls and the floor.
She cried out, one last time. "Please! Just give her back!" Piper fisted the white cloak, then clasped Rachel's cold hands. She cried for what felt like an eternity, lowering her head to Rachel's neck. Then suddenly, blinding white light exploded around them.
A/N: So I am done. I hope you all liked the Intro to this new story. Obviously, it is set in Ancient Greece and I hope you will all love this introduction and get drunk on further chapters. Thank you for reading and as usual leave a comment, kudos, vote or review if you liked it. Cheers,
TripleHomicide.
(Also, Polis means city-state.)