While the Walls Are Closing In
"Stop! You're cold against the skin
You take me in your arms when walls are closing in,
And I run, I run, I run, awakening my heart
But you overwhelm my lungs and it's tearing me apart
You and I will not be shaken
By the winter sound
But my voice is suffocating
In the winter sound."
Winter Sound by Of Monsters and Men
That day, Hercules was resting at the courtyard after an especially tiring training session with the future city-troopers. Dividing his time between his heroic duties and training the troopers was finally starting to take its toll on the demigod. More than that, he had done everything in his power to become a "true hero" and yet, nothing. The gates of mount Olympus had still stayed closed to him. Obviously he wasn't still ready to become a God. What more was expected of him? What more could he even do? He sighed as he leaned his back against the stonewalls of the palace.
"Having a hard time with our soldiers?" a familiar voice, a female voice, asked him.
He opened his eyes and spotted her, Meg, standing before him. She had a mischievous smile on her face and she had placed her hands on her hips. Hercules all but jump to his feet, taken by surprise to see her there. How had he not heard her coming, with all his training and what not?
"Your Highness-, I mean, Meg," he started again, not still sure what he should call her.
"Meg will do just fine. Sorry, I must have surprised you?" she then asked and the hero scratched his neck awkwardly.
"Yeah, kind of. I didn't hear you. But I'm really happy to see you, in any case. Thanks for the last time, I really enjoyed talking to you. It just… So easy to talk to you," he then told he, a genuine smile on his face.
"Oh, it was nothing," Meg felt blush creeping up her neck. She had been listening to all kinds of compliments and sweet words her whole life, so why would his words, his presence, effect her this way?
After a moment of silence, Meg cleared her throat and asked again: "So, how is the training going?"
"Well, I think it's going well, but it takes time. Also, I have never done anything like this, so I have quite a lot to figure out," Hercules told her.
"Is something else wrong? You seem distracted," Meg observed.
"Well, I set out to become a true hero in order to become a God and earn my place on Olympus. I feel that I have done everything in my power and yet, here I am," Hercules confessed with a sigh.
"Maybe the Gods are waiting for you to finish your current little project here in our palace?" Meg driely pointed out and Hercules let out a small laugh.
"No, put seriously: I'm sorry, that must be hard after all your hard work," Meg frowned as she thought of his problem.
"Yeah it kinda is. I'm still not sure what to do. I'm sorry, it seems that lately I have been only complaining of my problems" Hercules apologized: he didn't want to burden her with his worries.
"You've got lot on your plate. This gig at training our soldiers is certainly not helping," Meg felt sorry for the weary-looking young hero.
"No don't be: I'm sure there's a way to figure this out," Hercules decided to rely on his trademark optimism.
"I'm sure if anybody can work it out, it would be you," Meg than told him honestly and for a moment they just looked at each other's eyes, losing the track of time.
"Thanks, that means a lot to me," Hercules then mustered out, still smiling kindly at her.
"I still worry that the training is taking too much of your time," Meg made sure, feeling empathetic for his weary looks.
"You're kind worrying 'bout me. But well, my trainer Phil isn't exactly happy at the moment," Hercules chuckled back, awkwardly knitting his fingers together.
"I got the impression that he isn't really the happy-go-lucky type," Meg responded.
"Naw, Phil's not that bad, he's just… Really dedicated," Hercules told her, moving closer to her.
"Well I'm sorry if my idea put you into a tight spot," Meg's fingers were knitting together nervously as well. It seemed as they shared the same nervous habit.
"Don't be. I'm not," Hercules replied, pulling her hand into his. Her hand felt so small, so delicate between his bigger ones. He had the strangest urge to hold her, to protect her: to chase the constant sadness in her eyes away. Meg seemed a bit anxious by his closeness, it seemed like she was not used to having someone close to her.
"I'm sorry, if I make you feel uneasy I can move away-" Hercules begun to apologize to her, but she furiously shook her head.
"No, don't. I mean you don't have to. I just- I just don't know how to handle something like this: being close to someone, that is," Meg struggled to explain, but Hercules stopped her short.
"I know how that feels. You don't have to explain it to me," he really did know how that felt.
Meg looked back at him, her eyes brimming with tears. She was so beautiful, more beautiful than anything he had seen. Without even noticing, the two of the were moving even closer to each other, they were so close that their lips could almost touch.
'How would it feel to kiss her, to taste her lips?' Hercules pondered in his head, his heart thrumming so loudly he could hear it in his ears. They were only an inch away when they heard steps: luckily this time, the steps passed them by. But the moment was gone and both of them hesitantly pulled away.
"I'm sorry…" Hercules apologized, almost purely out of habit: he was so used to apologize for his clumsiness and all the havoc it had cost during the span of his years as a mortal.
"What for?" Meg smiled a little uncertainly.
"I- I dunno, I guess I got sort of carried away," Hercules let out a nervous laugh as he ran a hand through his hair.
"Oh. Don't worry about it," Meg gave him a timid smile.
"As long as anybody didn't see us as, that is," Meg sighed.
"I take that as your father won't change his mind concerning your marriage?" Hercules gave her an emphatetic look.
"I didn't really expect him to. I doubt that even the Gods themselves couldn't make him change his mind, so why would my opinion on this subject matter?" Meg asked him, bitterness lacing her words.
"Your opinion matters, at least it matters for me," Hercules told her seriously.
"You're sweet, you really are," Meg gave him another warm smile, even though her eyes stayed sad.
"But I'm a princess so my opinion doesn't matter. We're just pawns men use in their games to marry us off, to strengthen their alliances. Most likely the historians won't even remember my name, they won't record it down to their scrolls: it only matters who's daughter or sister I am, who I marry and who I may give birth to. Me, as a person? I don't matter. And that is that," Meg continued looking somewhere faraway. Hercules felt bad: he was a hero, he should be able to help people in need. He should be able to help her.
"But you have matters enough as it is in your own hands. I should let you go back to the city, I'm sure you have lot of other responsibilities other than chatting with me," Meg carried on.
'Yes, but none on them delight me as much as talking with you does. How I wish I could help you,' Hercules thought, but could not find his voice to speak out his thoughts.
"Yeah, I guess I should get going," instead, he lamely agreed with her.
Meg bid farewell to the young hero and she did not miss out how his eyes as well seemed to linger on her retrieving form.
When Meg was gone, Hercules closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. What was wrong with him? He had other duties, he needed to focus on becoming a God once again and re-join his family on mount Olympus. He could not entertain these childish fantasies about her: even if she was the most incredible, the most beautiful and the most intelligent person he had ever encountered. And while she was all those things, she was also to be married to another man.
Once again, there had been a third wheel secretly witnessing their encounter.
The next evening, Meg was seated with her sisters in the gynaikion, the women's quarters, practicing the one single thing she hated the most: needlework. She cursed inwardly as her hands could not cooperate with the piece of fabric she was working at the moment.
Her sister Henioche, two years young than she was, gave a small laugh and put her own work away.
"Here, let me help you," she offered, reaching for Meg's work.
"Thanks," Meg muttered as she watched her sister work her magic.
"You're really bad in that," Pyrrha, youngest of the three sisters, remarked, dividing momentarily her concentration between her scroll and her oldest sister.
"Thanks, didn't know that," Meg replied back at her sarcastically while rolling her eyes.
"Hey, not my fault that you suck," Pyrrha quipped back.
"Watch your language, Pyrrha! Meg, you should really pay more attention for chores like these: you are soon to become a wedded wife and you need to know these kind of skills," Henioche reprimanded her.
"Oh, do not remind me," Meg grimaced.
"Don't make that face! Having your own household, husband and servants and all that to take care of is a great blessing!" Henioche told her sternly. Sometimes Meg had hard time with grasping the fact that Henioche was actually younger than she was: the way she acted made her seem much more mature.
While Meg was eighteen, Henioche was sixteen and Pyrrha only fourteen. While Pyrrha had more rebellious and free-spirited nature, Henioche was already eager to get married and have her own household: that was the reason why she was so anxiously expecting her older sister to get married. From her perspective, after Meg was married, it would be finally her turn: unlike Meg, she could not wait for it to happen.
"Meg will make an splendid wife: she cannot do needlework even if her life would depend on it. And not only that, simply mentioning her future husband is enough to sent her running for the hills," Pyrrha once again responded. Even if her words were teasing, Meg knew there was truth in them.
Momentarily she recollected the previous night: after talking with Hercules, she had visited a temple and prayed for the goddess Artemis for sparing her from marrying the Spartan king Aedes. Her proaulia, the time between betrothal and marriage, was reaching its end on her part, even if she wasn't ready for it yet. The mere thought of the old king's hands running on her body made her shiver as frustrated tears had filled her eyes.
She had been kneeling on the stony temple floor until her knees were bruised, begging for the goddess Artemis, the virgin Goddess and protector of unmarried women, to guide her. There had been no answer by the goddess. On the other hand, Meg wasn't even suprised: when ever had the Gods listened to the prayers made by her family members? It was obvious to her that the Gods had deserted her family a long time ago.
Meg was brought back to the present moment as her youngest sister started talking again.
"Maybe there's a reason why she isn't eager to marry king Aedes? Maybe the reason for that might be a certain hero, visiting our palace quite often these days?" Pyrrha stretched as she slowly carried on talking, looking as smug as a cat who got the cream. Meg felt her face paling: how could she know? If she knew, who else would know?
"Pyrrha, stop it!" Henioche seemed uncomfortable as well.
"How… How do you know?" Meg mustered out.
"People talk. Well, when I say people, I mean servants," Pyrrha grinned back at her smugly.
"Pyrrha, stop that: it's not funny," Henioche tried to hush her younger sister and Pyrrha sighed.
"Alright, alright! Geez, I was just teasing her…" Pyrrha muttered as she picked her scroll back up, not realizing the turmoil her talk had just caused.
"Stop talking nonsense, Pyrrha and concentrate on your reading lessons! Meg, you must practice some more," Henioche handed Meg's work back to her after doing her best to salvage it from damage done by Meg and retreated back to her own work.
Her mind was still working over-time over what Pyrrha had just told her, but Meg still tried to turn her focus back into the task in her hand (quite literally). Then the king's servant came asking for her: this time, the timing could not be any more convenient.
Meg sighed inwardly: even if her father would most likely talk about her up-coming marriage, she could not stand her sisters' rambling any longer and even more so, these torture methods deemed as 'women's work' were driving her crazy. So yes, to meet her father she would go. She could only hope that all these talk concerning Hercules and her had not yet reached her father's (or his advisor's) ears.
As Meg entered her father's private quarters, she suddenly understood that this wasn't just a pleasantry visit: her father had a serious matter he wanted to discuss with her. She saw her father standing by the window, looking thoughtful. As usually, Autolycus stood beside the king like his shadow. Meg walked closer, already anticipating whatever her father had to say.
"Father, you wanted to see me?" Meg then asked timidly.
"Yes, indeed I did," he turned to face her and Meg's stomach dropped. She could tell by his face that whatever he was going to say wasn't going to be pleasant.
"Megara, I have been informed that you have been seen speaking with this Hercules for several times now, sometimes even alone, without a chaperon," her father then told her and Meg cursed inwardly.
"By whom, by Autolycus?" Meg sneered, her eyes momentarily fixing upon the clammy, waxy face of king's advisor.
"By several people, by whom exactly, it matters not," the king replied rigidly.
"Father, we have only discussed the training of the soldiers…" Meg begun, but her father cut her short.
"I don't care what you have discussed! The training of city-troopers is none of your concern, you are a woman and a princess after all. I will not allow this folly continue any longer, you are forbidden to see this young man anymore. And you will do as you're told: you will marry king Aedes, like it or not. Understood?" her father told her strictly, looking at her sternly. Meg swallowed all the words rising to her mouth: they would do no good when her father was in one of his moods. She had learned that lesson many years ago.
"Yes," Meg quietly replied.
"Yes what?" her father asked, obviously starting to get annoyed with his daughter.
"Yes, your Highness," Meg bowed her head, hiding her face.
"Good, I'm glad we got this sorted out. You may go now, Megara," Creon told her as he turned his back at her.
As Meg walked out, she felt tears burning in her eyes. In her mind, she realized that she hardly knew this hero, son of Zeus, Hercules, but still not being able to see him bothered her much more than she would have cared to admit.
A/N: My work has been kicking my butt lately (oh the joys of adulthood), but I wanted to offer you lovely peeps a new chapter. I hope that Meg's sisters, especially Pyrrha, didn't seem too annoying: I picture her as a bit moody teenager, who sometimes bickers with her siblings (as do we all while growing up). So she didn't mean anything bad, she just didn't really think of the consequences.
Also shout-outs to the lovely people, who reviewed: thank you so much! I never actually really thought about posting this story online, before I actually did it. It feels kinda strange, now that I think about it.