Happy Valentine's Day, Bianca!
From your "Love, From OQ" secret admirer!
We are both history nerds, so I figured I'd incorporate that into your gift. I really really hope you like it!
PS: This is unedited, so please forgive any mistakes, repeating words and historical/mythological inaccuracies.
Also, mild TRIGGER WARNING for mentions of abuse and suicidal thoughts.
She never expected her life would end like this.
Sure, it's better than the fate she knows is in store for her, but she's always believed there's little honor in taking your own life, when human life is so precious a gift that the gods themselves mold and nurture it every single day.
"Forgive me for what I am about to do, and please, should I be denied a proper burial by these invaders, grant me your mercy, and guide me into your arms after I'm gone from this world," she murmurs, kneeling and raising her hands towards the statue of Bastet before her. She's placed the recently mummified cat at the goddess's feet, a stray that one of the Greek soldiers had murdered without mercy. Regina had taken the poor beast, prepared and embalmed her before presenting her at the temple. If she's to be deprived of the blessings of an afterlife, at least she'll go knowing this sacred creature won't be.
It could be worse, Regina figures, she could die at the hands of the soldiers now roaming the roads, tortured and decapitated by those heathens who claim to bring prosperity to her country under Alexander's banner. And that, she thinks, that would be the most horrible fate of all.
Egypt is a great nation, rich and cultured, and the sun rises and sets with Ra's blessing over their pharaoh, who loves and cherishes this land as the sun god himself would.
But now, now it's crawling with Greeks, men who plunder and desecrate tombs and temples searching for gold. She's been told Alexander does not condone these actions, that he's punished the men that have been caught doing it, but the damage is done now, and her civilization is forever marked by the Macedonian leader's warpath.
They've declared him a son of Amun-Ra, given him reigns of the kingdom, and let him mix and match his customs together with Egyptian ones as he pleases. Regina has refused to accept such sacrilege as the new reality. His gods are not hers, and her gods would never grant this kind of power to a man who has made his kingdom by making millions bleed.
As it is, she is now a captive of Alexander, one of the many trophies that had been taken and presented to him to welcome him, when he made a home in the pharaoh's palace. She'd stared him down when she was brought before him yesterday, and slapped his hand away when he'd tried to reassure her with a mocking touch on her shoulder.
He had laughed, called her "endearing," and asked his man, Hephaestion, to take her back to the chambers she'd been confined to before they arrived. Tonight, she's to be given as a gift to one of his commanders, a man who, were it not for his prowess in the battlefield, would never have the option of marrying someone of regal blood like her. In fact, if Regina were an unmarried virgin instead of four years a widow, the soldier would've had to find a bride somewhere else, for she would've been given to Alexander himself.
Even now, the gods have blessed her with that small miracle, sparing her from being forced to consort with the man tearing her home apart.
Not that her future husband is any better. He's a barbarian, this Robin of Macedon, a lowly thief who had joined Alexander's army as punishment for his crimes, now turned into a "respectable" military chief. She's heard the guards talking about him. He's savage in battle, bloodthirsty and vicious. She hasn't met him, has been taken by Alexander's hoard of acolytes to be cleaned and dressed and painted according to their culture, so that she may be presented to the man as his new wife, his new plaything, but she has yet to lay eyes on him. Not that it matters. If she's lucky, she won't have to.
Alexander has granted Regina and other prisoners like her two days of grace, of controlled freedom for them to worship the gods (the guards have been on her at all times, stalked her even as she had walked through her destroyed village yesterday, and watched as she readied the cat's corpse for mummification). Regina has made the most of it, has spent this last day going from one temple to the other, leaving offerings for Isis, Sekhmet, Horus and others. This is her last stop, at Bastet's feet, imploring the feline goddess that she grant her protection from whatever comes after she ends her own life tonight.
Because she has seen what becomes of those given to Greeks as spouses, what those starved, violent men do to their new wives and slave boys, has seen the blood and the black eyes, the fingernails and whiplashes etched into their skin, and she cannot, cannot be one of them. Her people, her gods, deserve more than that.
And then the time comes, just as the sun is setting, and she is taken from the temple back to the palace to meet her fate. She is told that commander Robin is in a meeting with Alexander and his advisor, Ptolemy, and thus she should use this time alone to prepare. That her husband will be getting acquainted with her tonight, before they're married at dawn. He'll arrive in a half hour.
Good. That gives her plenty of time. She hadn't picked a way to go, but knew there would be weapons in the room. The walls are conveniently decorated with arrows and swords she can use to slit her throat. However, upon arriving in his chambers, she finds that there's an easier, much less messy way to do it.
The acolytes have placed a small wooden box in one of the low tables in the room, a box Regina knows all too well. She's seen these before, used them even, bought many at the market and taken them to the temple of Anubis as offerings.
Lifting the lid, she smiles when she finds the scorpion inside, still as a statue but no less lethal. Just one tiny prick of its tail and she'll be free.
Her hand moves slowly over the box, hovers a little as she closes her eyes and surrenders herself to the will of the gods, sending a prayer of thanks for the comfortable life they'd let her live as cousin to the pharaoh, for the beautiful two years they let her have with her husband before he passed, and for the choice they've given her of abandoning this world before she becomes someone's property.
Regina takes a deep breath, says goodbye to the world she knows, and slowly begins to lower her hand into the box, brushing the wooden edges delicately, waiting for the blessed sting—
"They're fascinating creatures, aren't they?" a voice interrupts from the door, and it startles her enough to withdraw her hand from the box. She turns quickly and finds a man there, wearing nothing but a brown leather fustanella, a red cape fastened over one shoulder with a brooch bearing Alexander's crest.
He's here. She's waited too long.
Regina calculates for a moment, and knows there's no way he'll get from the door to where she is fast enough to stop her from putting her hand in that box, but he's talking to her still, distracting her.
"Macedonia is crawling with them, and everyone despises them, but I've always found them quite interesting."
In the time it's taken him to say the words, he's moved closer, enough to grab the lid and place it back atop the box, excusing it with a sheepish, "As much as I respect them, it's probably best if we keep that sting covered."
He looks at her with something akin to admiration, his eyes never straying from her face despite the fact that all she's wearing is a flimsy white shift with a brown cord tied around her waist. She feels weak suddenly, the lack of proper dress jars her.
They've taken away her long white tunics, her gold sandals, her wigs, and the gold-and-jade bracelets and headpieces that would usually adorn her. Even her essential oils and makeup are gone. She's stopped smelling like lavender, and her eyes are no longer decorated in the thick black and gold lines she's used to, her lips no longer the soft red ochre that feels like armor as she faces the day.
The only armor she has left is the wall of defiance she's built around her heart, and the concern in this man's gaze is almost too strong a weapon for that wall to hold up.
There's genuine interest when he asks her name, and for some reason, she finds herself hissing it to him.
"I'm Robin. It's very nice to meet you, Regina. Though I imagine the feeling isn't mutual?"
She keeps her face strong, doesn't betray the fear swirling inside her at the mere idea of this man being so close to her. Daniel always did say she was a stubborn one, that that's part of why he loved her, because she never let anyone walk all over her. This peasant soldier won't be the exception.
"I don't blame you," he sighs, turning his back on her as he walks to the nearest chair, plopping on it and running a hand over his face.
And then he says the one thing she never expected him to.
"I'm so very sorry for what has been done to your country."
He says it slowly, like the weight of it pains him, and her traitorous heart softens just a tiny bit as she asks, "You're sorry?"
"Alexander is my king, my friend, and a great leader. I admire him deeply. But we have been gone from home for so many years, we've begun to lose sight of what it is we set out to do when we left."
That catches her interest, and she finds herself asking for more information, even if her tone remains haughty and annoyed.
"Why did you leave home? Why couldn't you stay there and saved us all this bloodshed?"
She's referring to the three failed attempts Alexander made on Gaza before he conquered, referring to the thousands of Egyptian lives lost in those battles... all for one man's greed.
"I understand how you feel—"
"Don't you dare," she spits back, raising her voice. "Don't you dare tell me you have even the slightest clue as to how I feel. You have no idea what it is to watch strangers turn your entire world into dust, to see your gods abused, your people put to the sword, your home destroyed..."
"Is that why you were going to let the scorpion sting you?" he asks then, and Regina gasps.
"You're angry, and alone, and forced to marry a man you didn't choose, a man who has killed people and helped turn your world into dust, as you put it. It wasn't that hard to figure out your intentions," he explains with a shrug, and great, now he's deemed her predictable.
"However," he interrupts, "I can say with total certainty, that the world would be forever darker if you were not in it."
The way he says it has her heart fluttering, the strength behind his words making her actually reconsider for a moment.
"What makes you say that? You don't know me," she barks, but her curiosity is betrayed in the high-pitched timbre of her voice.
"Well, from this... not so lovely exchange, I can tell you're determined. Brave and beautiful. All qualities I admire."
She huffs at that. Of course he'd give her such trite compliments. She should've known. Should've snatched that box and let that scorpion do its job before he got to it.
He's staring at her, though not in a way that makes her feel grimy, like Alexander had. He just looks... genuinely interested in her, in what she has to say.
His hand rises, starts moving towards her when she turns her back on him, but she sees it in the mirror on the other end of the room, and recoils from the hesitant touch when his fingertips graze her shoulder.
She doesn't allow herself to ponder on the tingling his actions have left on her skin.
"I'm sorry," he says, but doesn't stop his advance, walking closer and closer, until he's looking straight at her, his eyes meeting hers in the looking glass.
There's lust in his eyes, and the heat of him radiates into her, a feeling that isn't necessarily unpleasant, though it is most definitely unwelcome.
But fine, if this is what will get him to shut up, she'll do it, she'll let him have her and then execute her plan when his satisfied body surrenders to sleep.
Taking a deep breath, and keeping her angry gaze on him in the mirror, she raises her hand, tugging at the cord around her waist until it falls at her feet. She turns when he asks what she's doing, and Regina pulls one side of her white shift, the neckline big enough to fall over her arms now that it's not held up around her shoulders.
And then the fabric pools on the floor, and she's left to stand there, nude and vulnerable, but with fire in her eyes as she stares him down and tells him, "Let's just get this over with."
His eyes widen, and then he's hastily crouching before her and grabbing the fabric, shoving it into her chest as he mumbles his apologies and begs her to please get dressed.
"I wasn't... that's not what tonight is about."
"Oh, please, I've been a prisoner in this palace for two weeks, I have seen how this goes," she spits back, trying to fight down the little sting of rejection she should not even be feeling.
The heathen sighs then, runs his hand over his face, and walks toward her when she's clothed again.
"Regina," he starts. "If you thought that tonight you'd be— that I would even try to— I'm so very sorry, but please know I would never, ever, force you to do something you don't want to do."
There's a desperate sadness in his eyes, something that tells her this whole thing has struck a chord with him in some strange way, but Regina remains defiant, refuses to give in.
"Yet you're forcing me to marry you," she bites back, crossing her arms over her chest.
"That was Alexander's command, and I cannot deny my king, but that doesn't mean I'll... I'm not that kind of soldier, Regina."
That takes her by surprise.
"It's not what I heard."
"What did you hear?" he asks, his voice soft as he sits on the wide chair just to the side. Regina stays on her feet, turning to follow him with her gaze.
"They call you the butcher of Macedon... you were a thief before, and now you're a murderer. You steal gold from your victims to keep as trophies, as if killing is something to be proud of."
He smiles at her, a small, tender thing, as he explains, "My father was a butcher, and for some reason the gossips have turned that into a title for me. I assure you, though, that the tales of my battle skills are quite embellished, and not all true."
"So you don't steal from your victims?" she asks with a raised eyebrow, her eyes landing all-too-obviously on the gold bracelet he's wearing. It's a thin chain, with beads of lapis hanging from it every few links. Of Greek making, no doubt, and quite feminine. Definitely not his.
"This belonged to my wife," he confesses, running a reverent finger over the smooth material. Before Regina can even get over the shock of what he's just revealed, he continues. "She was taken... raped, tortured and killed by one of my enemies, a long time ago. Alexander's campaign may not be perfect, but I do what I can to keep that sort of thing from happening to others. This bracelet is a reminder of that. Of what I fight for."
She's stunned into silence by that, and begins to understand that maybe there's more to this Robin than meets the eye.
"I do take whatever valuables I can from the enemies I kill in battle," he admits, "and I have just sent off my main man to redistribute those riches amongst the poorest survivors, as I do in every kingdom we devastate."
Regina stares as yet another layer of what seems like honor peels off of him at his admission. Her thoughts of death are gone now, replaced with curiosity and wonder.
"Are you expecting recognition for returning what wasn't yours to take in the first place?" she asks, still cold in her demeanor.
"I'm only explaining that what you heard and what actually happens are two very different things," he tells her, and there's not a hint of annoyance in him, only kindness and warmth, a stark contrast to the image she'd painted of him with the harsh colors of his reputation.
"Why did you agree to marry me?" Regina finally says, after silence has stretched between them and it's she who can't bear it.
"I've helped destroy your home, as you keep reminding me," he explains, offering her a smile that tells her he's not put off by her remarks. "Alexander is a great man, but also a proud one, he was not fond of the way you treated him when he met you."
"He has no right over me, no one does," she flares up, her tone betraying her anger at the Greek king.
"I agree," Robin says, and it shocks her. He smiles again, showcasing a tiny indent on each cheek she can't help but find endearing. "But you hurt his pride, and that is dangerous when the man controls everything you hold dear."
"He's already taken everything. All that's left is my life, and I am not afraid to die," she challenges.
"Of that I have no doubt," he answers, stealing a glance at the box still carrying the scorpion. "But I thought, maybe if... if I agreed to take you, he would be more lenient. I thought perhaps, I could help give you back your freedom."
"How would marrying you give me any freedom?" Regina counters, and the man before her sighs deeply.
"I haven't always been an honorable man, Regina. I was once... long ago... quite different. But I've changed, and I only want to do my part. You are the Pharaoh's most beloved cousin, a princess of the royal bloodline, and from what I've been told, a fair and intelligent ruler. The servants assigned to me, the other prisoners, even some of the other commanders in Alexander's own army, they all speak of your grace, of how much your people love you. You don't deserve to be tied down by anyone, least of all me. My king thinks differently, and wants you restrained, if not dead."
A shiver runs down her spine at his words, and then there's a wave of calm that washes over the darkest corners of her heart when he adds, "But I assure you, this marriage would only be on paper, and with my position on Alexander's council, you'd be free to do as you pleased, with no interference from anyone. Not even me."
There's a sincerity in his voice, a respect in the way he regards her, that makes her believe his words, and she finds that the monstrous image she had been hating is nothing but a result of circumstance and overactive imaginations.
"I assure you, milady, I mean you no harm," he adds in a whisper, and this time, when he steps closer and moves a hand to her cheek, she lets him.
The warm roughness of his calloused fingers doesn't make her nauseous like she expected, and the touch is fleeting, just a quick brush of his knuckles over her skin before he tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and brings his hand back down.
Regina steals a glance at the box behind him, still weighing her options, but she's not sneaky enough, and he catches her. He doesn't seem angry, though, not even offended, and instead grabs the box and places it in her hands, his own lingering in their hold, thumb running gently over her knuckles.
"However," he says, swallowing before he speaks again, "if this is still what you want to do, I will not stop you. It is you who should decide your fate, I will not take that from you."
And it's there, when he's standing so close and being so kind, that Regina can't help but notice how attractive he is. Her eyes roam the sight before her, take in the sun-kissed skin that stretches over well-toned muscles. His hair is the color of honey, his eyes bluer than the Nile itself, and the few age lines on his face speak to wisdom and hurt, rather than anger and violence like she'd been led to believe.
"It's too warm in here," she says then, an offhanded comment that easily tells him she's decided to give him a chance, and his long, genuine sigh of relief moves her like few things ever have.
"Perhaps I could take you for a walk in the moonlight?" he asks her, "We can talk about whatever you'd like, get to know each other better?"
Regina nods, and walks timidly beside him as they head out to a courtyard she knows all too well.
She's been playing here since she was a child, had trained in sword fighting and archery with her father here, and she's sure if they look closely, they'll find the little dent she made in the palm tree in the corner just last year, before he died, when her sword had accidentally flown out of her hand and landed on the trunk.
She also knows that behind the grape vines at the very end is a door, one that leads up a flight of stone steps to the roof. She leads him there now, smiling when he trusts her so blindly and follows her into the dark passageway, until they are at the very top of the palace, standing under a bright wedge of the moon and a blanket of stars, looking out as Egypt stretches before them, the wind howling low and eerie as they take a seat and dangle their feet off the edge.
"Tell me about Macedonia," she says after long, silent minutes, and watches him smile out of the corner of her eye.
"I've been away for so long, I no longer know if my memories of it are accurate," he confesses.
"Tell me," Regina insists, her tone soft and interested.
"Well... it's all valleys and mountains, lots of green pastures for the horses. Our houses are simple, but the palace and temples are opulent, tall, with elaborate columns carved in stone, stretching up into the heavens. The air smells of sea salt and mint, and all around you the etesian blows in from the north, fanning out over the Aegean... Apollo carries the sun over the land in his chariot, gives our kingdom warmth and light during the day, so high up in the sky that you can see it reflecting on every blade of grass, shining over the water like crystals... and then Morpheus brings the night and the stars, blesses the dreams of the people below."
"Sounds beautiful," she comments, her tone low to match his. In his regaling, they've moved closer, and his voice carries with the wind and vanishes in the night, leaving the echo of his story in a deep murmur that soothes her.
"It's also crawling with your little scorpion friends, just like this place," he adds as an afterthought, and Regina chuckles with him, still staring out at the expanse of her country beneath them, now turned into yet another part of the Greek empire.
"You called them fascinating," she reminds him.
"And I stand by that, but I can't say I appreciate finding them in my dresser at night or waking up to one on my ceiling."
She smiles at that, nods and tells him she understands.
"They sure make for a breathtaking constellation, though," Robin adds, and she turns to him, frowning in confusion.
He draws closer, stops abruptly when he realizes that he's doing it, but Regina nods her consent, and he kneels just behind her, his arm stretching straight ahead over her shoulder as he points to a red star on the horizon.
"That one over there, that's Antares, the heart of the scorpion," he says in a low voice, right by her ear, "and then we have Graffias... Dschubba as the forehead, Sargas, Jabbah..."
Regina stares with fascination as he draws an imaginary line from one star to the next, and the scorpion comes alive before her. He moves back to Antares then, and down, down, down, calling out the name of each star as his hand traces the shape.
"And here, at the very end of the tail, are Shaula and Lesath," he finishes, and she hadn't noticed until now that her body has leaned back into him, her back resting on his chest as he speaks. "Do you see it now?"
Regina nods, but says nothing, only continues to stare at the sky, enraptured by this new way to appreciate the heavens.
"How did a scorpion end up there?" she asks, but doesn't move from her perch against his chest. She feels his head turn, knows he's watching her for a moment, as if trying to decide something.
And then he moves, settles more comfortably behind her, his legs open on either side of her as his hands hold on to her waist, one of them running up and down her side in what she thinks is an absentminded way (just like her own hand is now brushing his thigh, but she doesn't let herself think about that too much). He takes a deep breath, and then narrates the myths of his homeland for her.
"Arrogance," he states simply. "It is said that Orion was very arrogant. He was a huntsman, and would brag about his skills to anyone who would listen."
His voice is smooth and rich, with a hint of raspiness that fits it just right, like one of the fine wines she used to drink at dinners with the Pharaoh. The semblance of calm it brings is enough to relax her, entranced as she is by his story as he continues to tell it.
"Among those he bragged to, was Artemis, daughter of Zeus and quite the skilled hunter herself, though she has never been the kind to boast of inflicting harm upon an innocent beast. She's a goddess, she offers protection to every creature. Orion said once, that he could kill every animal on earth. Every single one. Artemis was so fed up with his illusions of grandeur, that she sent a scorpion to fight him."
"Smart," Regina remarks, and feels the quiet rumble of his laugh behind her as he nods, his cheek grazing over her hair as his head moves up and down.
"Orion was killed, and Zeus elevated the scorpion up into the heavens, to forever reside there as a symbol of Nature's own might."
"Artemis must have been pleased," she plays along, because his story is entertaining, if a little strange.
"Mm," he agrees, "she asked Zeus to elevate Orion too, as a reminder to the human race of what excessive pride will bring you."
"I like this goddess," Regina says, moving her head just slightly to the side, so that her cheek is brushing his as they look at the scorpion in the sky.
"You remind me of her," Robin tells her, and she smiles at that.
"How so?"
"You're strong, powerful, intelligent... stunning... in every way," he tells her, speaking slowly as they turn to look at each other, his eyes getting lost in hers.
There's a fluttering in her stomach, one she should be ashamed of feeling for a Greek invader, but out here, with the wind drowning out their words and the veil of night stretching far and wide, Regina can't help but enjoy it.
He's leaning in slowly, so slowly, his eyes fluttering closed in time with hers.
And then his lips are touching the corner of her mouth, feather-like and pure as his hand tucks that stubborn stray lock of hair behind her ear once more.
"You didn't deserve any of this," he admits, "I'm so very sorry for what has been done to you."
The sincerity in his tone has tears springing to her eyes, and before she knows it, she's sobbing, held in his arms as she lets out the sorrow she's been bottling up in an effort to appear resilient.
His hand rubs up and down her back in soothing motions, and after a moment, it helps settle her tumultuous heart. She breathes him in, and realizes he smells like he said his home does, sea salt and mint, with a hint of dirt and sweat left from the hot summer day.
"How do you read the skies?" he asks a while later, when she's back to resting her back on his chest and he's drawn his cape over them both, shielding her from the cold wind that's now picked up speed around them.
Regina sighs, her eyes opening for the first time in long minutes of comfortable silence.
"We owe the sky to Nut, goddess of the heavens. The sky itself is her body, the barrier keeping chaos from the world, filled with stars to guide both Ra and the moon down her belly as the day passes. She gives birth to Ra every morning, and with him comes the sun. She is old and wise, and protects us from the evils that surround us, evils we don't always see..."
She takes his open hand in hers then, one finger tracing over it as she explains, "Her fingers and toes are the corners of the world... north," she says as her finger grazes over the very top of his palm, right where his fingers begin. "South," she goes on, moving her finger down to just above his wrist. "East... and west," she finishes, her finger running from one side to the other, then trailing lazy circles on his hand just because she can.
His breathing is heavy, a fervent whisper of Regina caressing her skin right before she turns to the side to look at him.
And because he's been nothing but kind and understanding, because she's insulted and raged at him and he is still trying to return her freedom to her, and most of all, because she wants to, Regina kisses him.
Their lips meet in a soft exchange, teasing and sweet, going no further than a small peck that lingers and transforms into another, and another, each one just a little deeper, a little longer, until his mouth opens to catch her lower lip and gives it a little suck, and Regina is lost.
His hands roam her back as they rise up on their knees and she turns fully, but his fingers never venture lower, only tangle in her hair when she opens her mouth to him and lets her tongue tease against his so very slowly. He moans when he tastes her, and Regina cannot help but do the same. The flavor of him is different than anything she's ever experienced before, sweetness and spice combined in the gentle but hungry movements of his lips over hers.
At the gasp she lets out into his mouth, he slants his head and deepens the kiss with a low Mmm.
It's wrong, what she's doing, getting this close to a man who has helped ravish and impoverish her kingdom. But then, how is it that she's found the one Greek soldier who regrets that, who respects her, if not because the gods have willed it so? And this kiss, this kiss is nothing but divine, attraction and feel and passion conveyed in every pass of his tongue over hers.
He sucks at her upper lip, and it has her moaning low in her throat as she kisses back with fervor, taking his bottom lip between her own and treating him to a teasing little suck just as he did her. His hands grip her tighter, tug a little more at her hair, not enough to hurt, but it startles her anyway, and his apology is murmured into her neck as he buries his face there and lavishes her skin with more kisses, heading back up to her lips again.
And then he stops, toning down the heat of his actions and turning his desperate, tongue-filled kisses into sweet pecks once more, until they fade away and he sighs as his forehead meets hers.
"Apologies," he says, referring to his eagerness, "it's just... you're so beautiful, and it's been a while."
"What? No courtesans on the eve of battle?" she asks, but there's no judgment behind the question, only mild curiosity. He shakes his head, exhaling a laugh.
"I prefer to have no distractions when I'm getting ready to fight," he tells her.
"Am I a distraction?" she counters, one eyebrow raised.
"No," he tells her vehemently, "you are a privilege I do not deserve."
She grins at that, puts a tentative hand on his jaw and pecks his lips again, simply because she feels like it.
"And you're quite a good kisser," he adds, making her laugh before she kisses him again.
They're married in the morning as arranged, and while she still feels like a caged animal in Alexander's presence, Robin is quick to soothe her, to remind her it's just a formality, and stirs her away from the empty celebrations as quick as he can without angering his king.
He sleeps on the floor of his chambers that first night, and every night after, wishing her good night with a chaste kiss and never asking for more, smiling at her in the mornings as he brings her breakfast. Dates and bread and meat, goat's milk and cool water from the oasis fed by the Nile, luxuries she was used to, but deprived of the minute Alexander showed up.
They take the time to get to know one another, to understand each other's histories and cultures, and make the best of this situation they've been roped into. He teaches her more about the philosophies of his homeland, of the great minds Alexander assigned as teachers for his commanders and friends. She tells him about her own education and upbringing, about mathematics and other practical sciences, and it surprises her to see how well they complement each other. Together, they theorize about the meaning of the world, of life, the reason behind every leaf, every grain of sand, every drop of rain...
It's the closest she's ever felt to someone since Daniel.
A month into their marriage, on the eve of the founding of a new Alexandria, Regina lets Robin into her bed.
They don't do anything, and he's careful about respecting her space, but her body shifts in the night, gravitating towards him, seeking the contact of his skin on hers.
The next morning they wake in each other's arms, and he tells her it's the best sleep he's had in a very long time. He sounds so grateful, so at peace and honored that she's allowed him a good night's rest at her side, that it somehow unlocks something inside her.
They miss the founding ceremony, her lips fused to his as she straddles him on the bed, undulating her hips over his while his hands move up her thighs, her ribcage, bringing the material of her shift with them until it's off and thrown somewhere on the floor.
He turns them then, his body hovering over hers. She should feel threatened, scared to have him at such an advantageous position, but all she wants is more. More of his touch, his skin, his moans of her name when she bites his lower lip just so.
When his hand moves back down, it's to nestle in the warm wetness between her legs, fingers rubbing over her just right, just enough to have her crying out her satisfaction and rocking her hips into his hand.
His fingers are wet when he withdraws them from her, and he moans at her taste when he licks them, kissing her wildly right after and shifting down her body, dotting kisses on each breast before he sucks at one nipple and then the other, hard and delicious as his tongue flicks over them. She can feel the tension building, can feel that coil of pleasure winding tighter and tighter the more he bestows his attentions upon her.
"Robin!" she gasps, and he grunts in reply, curses before moving further down, until his head is between her legs and his tongue is licking at the spot that had her going earlier.
His lips close around the nub and suck, his gruff voice telling her how gorgeous she is, how he can't wait to feel her, and that gets to her, the talking, has her writhing under him while he thrusts his fingers inside her in slow, deliberate passes.
"Let go," he tells her, "let me make you feel good."
And so she does, marvels at his touch and screams when he licks at her again, and again, and again. His fingers pick up speed until they're all but slamming into her in quick, measured raps that hit something magical inside her and make her see stars.
Her eyes have closed in the heat of the moment, and when she opens them, it's to find him there, looking up at her with lust and need and this raw, unidentifiable feeling that flashes just before he closes his eyes and sucks harder at her.
"Yes! Don't stop!" she screams, her hands fisting in the sheets beneath her, and Ra may be the sun itself, but the light that explodes when she closes her eyes and bursts with pleasure is far brighter, blinding and all-encompassing as she thrashes on the bed, urging him to come back up to her waiting mouth.
Her lips crash against his instantly, her eyes closing again when the hardness of him pushes against her entrance. He waits for her, waits for the last little aftershock to wear off before he moves again, settled atop her as he is, his elbows digging into the mattress on either side of her. He plays with her hair, carding his fingers through it until it's splayed out on the feather pillow.
"Beautiful," he murmurs, so reverently that she feels her cheeks blush slightly.
Regina kisses him sweetly, softly, her lips playing with his for a few minutes before her hand wedges between them, grasping him and stroking up his shaft.
His sharp intake of breath satisfies her, makes her feel confident and alluring as she tells him, "Make me yours, Robin of Macedon," her eyes intent on his.
He moans at that, kisses her tenderly before he asks, "Are you sure?"
Regina nods, returning the kiss and opening her legs a little more, until he's fully settled between them, his cock pushing slowly into her.
It's been over four years since she's been with a man, and her husband had been gentle, loving. Robin is considerate, but far less delicate. He's more primal in his desire, and for some reason it thrills her, excites her that he can't get enough, that he's having such a hard time not spilling into her right then as he lets out a pleasured groan.
"You feel..." he trails off, his voice strained.
"How do I feel?" she asks on a moan, because she needs to hear it, needs him to say it.
"Unbelievable," he settles on, shifting just a bit and hitting deeper inside her. "Are you alright?"
She smiles at his concern, nods her head and tells him, "Never better."
And with that, he begins to move. Slow, lazy thrusts of his hips that have her enjoying the feel of every inch of him as he slides in and out, coated in the wetness of her that's building up again, thanks to the way he keeps moving his mouth down to her neck, her breasts.
One of his arms holds his weight above her, and the other stretches down between them, his fingers finding that blessed place again and teasing over it as he pistons back into her.
"Faster," she begs, her tongue licking a trail up his jaw, her hands digging long fingernails into his back as she keeps him pressed flush against her. Robin obeys her command, picks up the pace until he's established a deep, hard rhythm that unravels her as he hits that blissful spot inside her again and again.
She comes a second time, and her moans are swallowed by Robin as he kisses her, wet and sloppy while his thrusts become more erratic, until he's shouting her name with one final, hard push into her, moaning loudly when she rolls her hips beneath him to prolong the pleasure.
Exhausted, they collapse next to each other on tired limbs, his arms immediately wrapping around hers, her back pressed against his chest.
"Come to Macedonia with me," he murmurs then, kissing her temple.
"Robin..." she starts, but feels him shake his head from his perch behind her.
"I have lands there, vast ones, as a gift from the king for my efforts. We could take as many of your people as we can and resettle them there, give them land as well, a chance to prosper. We could have a house, children, farm the land... We'd have a comfortable life, Regina, a peaceful one. Away from all this."
She hadn't dared dream of peace, not after everything that's happened. Admittedly, Alexander has turned out to be a far better ruler for her people than she expected, and has tried to keep as many of their traditions as possible, thanks to his fascination with new cultures. But Egypt is no longer what it used to be, and never will be again. It is no longer her home.
No, her home is now the heart of the man currently holding her, the man offering to make her happy with a life outside of Alexander's purview.
"Children, huh?" she asks, the image of them already in her head. A little girl with his eyes, his hair, and her complexion; a boy with her dark curls and a dimpled smile just like his father's...
"If you want them. All of this is only if you want it. I know that moving would mean leaving behind everything you've ever known, so this is, as always, your choice."
She turns, tearing up at his words, and his concern is immediate.
"What's wrong?" he asks, the back of his hand running over her cheek.
"I just never thought I'd have this," she admits, sniffling a little before she shakes her head and tries to wave off his worry.
"You never thought you'd have an incredibly handsome soldier in your bed?" he jests, and his eyes crinkle at the corners when his quip has the desired effect.
"There it is," he says, brushing the tip of her nose with his own. "There's that elusive but satisfying smile I think about everytime I close my eyes."
That smile he's referring to only grows, mirrored perfectly on his face when he looks at her. He runs a finger down the bridge of her nose, over her lips, and then leans in again.
"I love you," she confesses after a slow, tender kiss.
The words have been on the tip of her tongue for days now, yearning to break free. And as they tumble out of her, tears build in her eyes and spill, two salty drops that he kisses away before he whispers, "I love you, too, Regina."
Greece is... big.
Steep hills and green valleys stretch out as far as the eye can see, chasing the blue line of the Aegean in the horizon, until the colors blur together and it's impossible to discern one from the other.
The lands Alexander has given to Robin are fertile, beautiful, and ready to be turned into a home for them and the caravan of people they've brought with them. The sun shines high up in the sky, higher than Regina's ever seen it. A sign from Ra, surely, that things will go well.
They celebrate their arrival by marrying under her gods on their new estate (Robin had insisted it was only fair, since she had already married him under his).
It's a simple affair. She wears a linen tunic, and the few lapis and gold accessories she's brought with her. Her hair is longer now, overgrown during their journey here. Robin loves it, can't resist threading his fingers through it, and Regina leaves it down and free for their wedding day, the dark waves brushing just over her shoulders. They leave offerings for the gods, including a very special basket with rare fruits for Nut, as Robin insists she was the one to bring them together that first night.
Vows are exchanged, in which Robin pledges his soul to her, here and in the afterlife, and swears to love and protect her for all eternity. Regina does the same, and then smiles through tears of admiration when he plucks a rare feather from one of his arrows and lets it blow in the wind as an offering to Horus.
He leads her inside their new house, into their new life, ready for what awaits them.
There will be challenges. Many of them. But with Robin's hand in her own, Regina finds she is ready to face them.