Disclaimer: I do not own Escaflowne.
Note: Disregard the warning from the last chapter! I'm sorry about that, but I warned you a few chapters too soon. I'm sorry about the confusion.
"I was sent to tend to your needs, Queen Sitiah," Merle bowed politely than looked up curiously at the woman.
She wore no make-up, her face clean and fresh looking. Her skin was darker than most Greeks, yet lighter than the complexion of Egyptians. Her eyes however held traces of both races, with their wider almond shape, black lashes long and thick, though the coloring was a very light brown, fanning out to gold at the edges. Her lips were of medium size, smooth and attractive. Merle couldn't help but think of Van when she saw how high and sculpted her cheekbones were. Her nose was small and long, but not unattractively so. She was an exotic beauty, small boned, yet obviously in good shape. Her build was not athletic, nor was it weak. Her curves were graceful, and the flesh of her limbs looked soft and taut.
Merle thought on her carefully. Is her beauty just a mask? Or is she as lovely within her heart?
Sitiah studied her as well, wondering whether the girl could be trusted. She hated being on her guard around servants, which was why she only allowed a select few to wait on her. The girl gave no hint of animosity, only open interest as she eyed the queen with intent gray-blue eyes. Fastening the white robe with the gold linen belt Sitiah questioned nonchalantly, "You are not a lady's servant, are you?"
"No," Merle replied watching as the woman picked up the clothes she had tossed on the floor by the bath, "I serve Prince Van." The queen slipped on a pair of sandals and stood surveying the room. She finally looked at the girl gesturing to the door to her right. Merle followed as she walked across the room to the door and into an adjoining chamber.
"I see. You have never served a lady before?" Sitiah asked as she let the clothes fall to the floor beside a couch. She crossed the room to a bench in front of a vanity. Seating herself before the bronze mirror fixed onto the little desk she said, "Come in. Close the door behind you, please."
Merle obeyed replying, "Yes, I was in fact trained to be a handmaiden to the queen, but I took to following the Prince about. Before I had trained more than a year with the queen, she sent me to Van. When she disappeared, I was the one to comfort him." She too walked across the room to stand behind Sitiah. She looked at the queen's reflection in the mirror, "May I?"
"Please." Sitiah smiled kindly into the mirror. The young girl gently brought all of the woman's hair behind her shoulders. She then turned and went toward a little cubby in the wall, and took out a white linen towel. She returned to wrap the towel around Sitiah's long curls and squeeze out the excess water. She seemed to know her way around quite well. And even seemed at ease in the queen's presence. How very strange… She does not know me, yet she has hinted at no alternative means for serving me. She has not come to spy… Even if she was asked to, I doubt she would. Such an honest young woman. She can see things in people that others cannot with simple glances.
"I have served Lord Van since I was seven years old. And known him my whole life." Merle mentioned casually as she continued to dry the queen's hair with the towel. She folded the towel up with care than dropped it onto a couch a few steps from the vanity. Picking up a comb from the top of the table she said simply, "You have stirred much speculation among Strategos' officers."
As the brush slipped through her hair and caught on the tangles made by the curls Sitiah smiled secretively. She had wanted such a reaction, hoping to impress upon Strategos the resolve of her person. She watched Merle again, hiding any thoughts that showed within her eyes, "Do you think so?"
"Oh yes," The girl responded, carefully going through a handful at a time, "Where we're from, no woman would dare roll up in a carpet and have it unfurled before a man." She laid one section of hair aside to start with another, when she looked up commenting, "They're shocked. Even Strategos' was left rather speechless." Her eyes showed with something close to admiration then fell again to the task at hand.
"He is a hard man to catch off guard," Sitiah pondered frowning thoughtfully.
Merle nodded, "Indeed. I have known him all my life as well, and I know him to be a very clever man. He can usually see an opponent's moves before they even think them. It's the way he is."
The queen looked at her suddenly. Merle could see the anxious tension upon her face as she stilled the brush in her hand. "Does he consider me his opponent?" Sitiah asked eagerly, gauging the girl's reaction.
Merle considered the woman silently watching as different emotions flushed the face only to disappear. She gazed away pensively. Finally after long moments of staying completely still she lifted the brush to the queen's hair again. She shrugged emotionlessly, "Who can say? He is always on his guard with everyone. He has many enemies." She knew that her answer had not been what the queen had wanted, but she had to stay cautious. She had learned to say little and listen a lot when it came to being with people of power. Traveling with Van and his elder brother had taught her to pay attention to every detail of a person's demeanor. She knew that people could give subtle hints about their thoughts with little more than a simple glance. The look of worry upon the queen's face made Merle feel a twang of guilt. She sighed and concentrated on the black ocean of curls the brush was buried in.
Ptolemy's troops and most of his men were gathered at Pelusium, and for that Isadora sighed in relief. Though it meant more trouble later on, Isadora knew that having Ptolemy's people in one place had helped to see the ship through the waters toward her home. Strategos had arrived in Alexandria, which meant his men now replaced those of Ptolemy's stationed about the city. She was insignificant to the man's soldiers, only a queen's handmaiden.
Word had reached all that had accompanied Strategos; that the queen had come and was under the protection of the Emperor. Had the ship come across one of Ptolemy's, she would find herself in more dangerous hands. But as chance had it, the simple merchant ship sailed with others that flew the Fanelian flag. Isadora knew she could not have been dealt any cards with more luck, for with the Fanelian escort no danger could encroach upon her or the servants of her majesty.
The veil that covered her hair flowed behind her caught by the sea breezes. She smiled lifting her head to the sky. The sun shone full on her face bathing her in the yellow light. Free of the heavy desert heat, and the sand that rose with every stir, she inhaled as deeply as possible. The wind carried her breath away as she let it all out. She raised her hands at her sides whispering a prayer of thanks to the mighty Ra clear and brilliant in the azure skies. The disk seemed to wink at her as she opened her eyes, and her smile widened. The gods had answered her prayers for a safe journey. She already knew the queen was in the palace being taken care of. The scroll written in the queen's own writing had not even been necessary to assure her of the circumstances. A vision had shown her the happenings in the throne room with acute detail, leaving her with a weary smile and urge to sleep. But Ra was sinking happily in the sky and she was awake and ready to once again stand by her queen's side.
"My lady, we are nearing the dock. The High Priestess urges you to ready yourself and go down to await the litter." A servant bowed a few steps away.
She looked from the god to the white mud brick dwellings along the horizon shimmering with the afternoon glare. She smiled, "I'll be along in a moment, Aeson." He bowed again and began to turn when he stopped looking back at the woman with a timid smile.
"Lady Mitylene would be appalled if she knew you stand with your face uncovered, priestess." He said in his warm voice.
She laughed her green eyes darting to the aging man, "Of course she would, Aeson! But you will not tell her, will you?" It was not really a question for she looked out over the sea with a confident smile.
Aeson chuckled shaking his head as he began to shuffle back to the steps into the cabin, "No, priestess. You know I would not." He made his way down into the cabin his bent back disappearing below the stairs. Isadora sighed leaning her arms upon the railing. She smirked with a roll of her eyes as she reluctantly tucked one side of her veil over her face. She brought the other around her neck and tossed the end over her shoulder. All that was left to the eye were the green gems of her eyes, framed by the dense brown-black lashes that curled gently.
She blinked and was thrown into a white-pillared room where several men sat about a long rectangular table. She could see Strategos in full view at the head of the table where he stood with his hands clasped behind his back. He was speaking to the group, his armor laid aside for that day, clad only in tan leather pants and low boots with a silver belt holding a sword, and a short tan soldier's tunic and black overcoat that fell to the floor. The silver buttons of the duster glinted, as did his red-brown eyes with their stern control as he studied each face. Her eyes went around the room as his did, and rested on a single man.
Young, with the same red-brown eyes, and hair as black as pitch, he met Strategos gaze with serious stillness. The emperor's eyes traveled on, but Isadora's stayed on that one individual. He had olive skin, like he himself was Greek, his complexion standing out in the room of peach faces. He was the opposite of his brother who seemed to be made of icy colors, for he was of warm colors like the earth, sun, and midnight sky. His lips were perfect for a man, a pale pink against his tan skin. His eyelashes black like his hair were unusually lengthy and thick, almost feminine. Invisible lines chiseled out his cheekbones and well shaped nose. He was incredibly handsome in his somber mood as he listened as his brother went on. The want in Isadora to reach out and touch the surely soft skin of his cheek startled her from the scene.
Her fingers clutched tightly to the railing, the knuckles completely white. The noise of the harbor pulsed in her ears, as did the sound of her wildly beating heart. He's here! He is at the palace! What will I do? I cannot face him! She breathed in and out in heavy gasps. Her shaking hands tremulously let go of the rail and went up to rest on her chest. Stepping back from the railing Isadora tripped backward on the skirt of her chiton. She steadied herself before she fell to the deck grabbing a hold of the rail once again. A soldier by her side gently put his arm around her shoulders that tensed at his touch.
"Come, Prophetess, I'll help you to your litter." He spoke kindly to her. She turned her head to see Miles eyebrows drawn together over his brown eyes in worry. She gratefully sank against her trusted guard, and allowed him to bring his arm from her shoulders to her waist, and take her right hand. "This way, my lady." He said leading her slowly toward the plank that ran out to the dock. She let out a sigh closing her eyes, her head falling to his strong shoulder.
On the steps up to the main gate Isadora awakened as the litter jerked to a stop. She heard one of the guards hurriedly explain in Latin. The man at the gate obviously didn't understand, for the guard sighed and tried Greek. The soldier on guard at the gate stuttered in Fanelian that he didn't understand.
The men in her escort fell to grumbling when she pulled aside the curtains and asked, "What is it?"
Miles quickly went to stand where she could see him and bowed, "Forgive us, my lady, but no one can speak Fanelian to this man." Isadora peered out looking at the flushed man who seemed at a loss for words. She frowned at the way his eyes darted from her to her men in panic. Taking pity on him she forced herself to recall the language.
Luckily the queen had been an adamant teacher, for Isadora remembered in a flash and spoke after a few seconds, "Excuse me. I am Lady Isadora, the queen's servant and friend. We need to be allowed into the palace to report ourselves to her."
The soldier gaped at her, not expecting her Fanelian to be so crisp and unaccented. He swallowed his eyes losing the look of fear in them, "Oh- I did not know. Forgive me." He made an awkward bow and signaled to the tower.
Isadora smiled triumphantly, "Thank you." She ducted behind the curtain, and closed it just as the litter started forward again. Sinking back against her cushions she put a fingertip to her temple as a tiny stab of pain slashed into her head. She sighed as the throb dulled, and then disappeared. She closed her eyes to pray. Thoth, I thank you for the knowledge bestowed upon my queen, which she has passed onto me. I pray that you might now give her the words, oh Wise One, to convince Strategos of her capability. She took a quick breath opening her worried eyes. "Isis, be with your daughter." She whispered fervently reaching for the pink stone of her necklace hidden beneath the folds of her veils.
A weary Strategos stepped into his chamber, barely hearing the quiet click of the doors as they closed behind him. He was about to throw himself upon the large bed when a scent caught his attention. It was perfume smelling of persea blossoms and pomegranates drizzled with honey. It was light in the breezes that drifted from the open balcony. His eyes narrowed irritably, realizing the curtains to the balcony were open. He pulled his sword without a sound, holding it in one hand as he edged toward the balcony. He stood with his back to the wall next to the gauzy linen curtain gathered and tied against one pillar. He took a quick step turning to face the balcony, his boots making a slick sound on the marble. His eyes widened then narrowed as the queen whipped around with a gasp. Her chest heaving she stared at him in shock then frowned.
"What are you doing here?" She cried still trying to calm her breathing.
"The question is how did you find my room, your Highness?" He said through clenched teeth glaring at her faintly painted face.
"What do you mean your room? These are my chambers!" She replied indignantly.
He lowered the sword taking one hand from the hilt gesturing to himself, "This is the room I acquired when I got here."
She scowled at him, the green malachite on her eyelids making her glare seem deadly, "These are my royal chambers, you have no right here."
Folken took a few steps toward her pointing the sword at her his arm extended until the tip was inches from the golden flesh of her neck, "You forget yourself. I am the one with the power to say who truly has the right over anything in Egypt." Still Sitiah's expression did not change and she held his eyes with hers. Her fingers tensed at her sides flexing toward her palm in agitation, like a cat extending its claws only to draw them back in.
"I am Sitiah Mekhare Yasmin Ptolemy," She said her voice low, "Queen of Egypt." Her eyes were dark brown, the edges of her irises burning gold.
"You are queen, only if I say you are," He replied coldly.
"Ha!" She exclaimed a feral grin spreading on her face. "My blood makes me so! You cannot change it! If you think to kill me and put another in my place the people will riot!"
"Don't be a fool," He spat, his sword dropping to his side as he took two threatening steps toward her, "The people hate you! They've been calling for Arsinoe since the day I arrived!"
Shaking her head furiously Sitiah returned, "No! It does not matter! Arsinoe is a child! She does not know how to rule! I am a woman! I know how, I was taught!"
"Admit it. The mob hates you! You cannot hope to keep power in a city that despises you!" Folken shouted stepping forward again until he stared down at her.
"The only reason they want Arsinoe is because she can be manipulated! She is young and beautiful, and cares for nothing but the wealth of Egypt. The people love her because of her youth, and looks! Because she appeared to them as a child, and they watched her grow, as I worked behind closed walls…They think that she will be a figurehead that other countries will look up to. They want her to seem like some docile ally to Fanelia! But she will have no power with the regency backing her." Sitiah argued her voice finally falling to a softer degree. She looked down almost forlornly swallowing back the angry tears. "I will not be their puppet like Arsinoe would. I am too old. They love her because they know she is soft and will comply. And they hate me because I will do what is best for Egypt as a whole, and not just for Alexandria." Her heart ached suddenly and she closed her eyes against the torment. She swallowed again trying to clear her eyes of any tears. Looking up at the speechless man she said softly, "I do not hate them as they hate me. I respect them and the lives they live. This is my home; I cannot run away from the hatred that is shoved at me. I love this city- this country- too much to turn it over to deceitful men who will be the ruin of her." Her eyes shone with her conviction and the unshed tears, but she did not try to hide either from him. It is my destiny to rule here. She thought stubbornly.
Folken's eyes had lost their fury. And his heart heard her words. He blinked stepping back as though she had slapped him. He suddenly frowned in confusion, "Your- destiny?"
Author's Note:
My! Well that chapter was a bit longer than I had expected. Sorry about that.
Isis: In Cleopatra's time was the Mother Goddess, the supreme one married to Osiris, king of the dead. She was also the one who was able to trick Ra into giving his name to her. Her tears flooded the Nile at the time of the inundation, bringing life to the fields. Her sacred tears were the most blessed gift ever bestowed upon Egypt. If Isis did not cry than The Two Lands did not prosper. She was also said to be the lady of magic, taught by the god Thoth to use mystical powers to give to the people. She meant fertility, giving back to the land with her sorrow.
Cleopatra identified herself with this great goddess, and soon began to refer to herself as the incarnation of Isis. She became a symbol, a living god, proclaiming herself to be the daughter of the Mother Goddess. On the walls of temples you can still see her portrayed as Isis with the cow's horns and sun (or lunar) disk. And as an incarnation of a goddess she was a devote worshiper, setting up shrines to her mother within her household. And just to remind you Eset is the Egyptian name for Isis. Egypt had many goddesses who took on duties much like the Greek Isis, and often times she was overshadowed in different dynasties and called by different names. However throughout Egypt's history there has always been a supreme goddess whose gracious gifts supported The Two Lands.
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