Alexandria, 75 BCE
The city of Alexandria was a relic of history frozen in time.
Kassandra had watched it evolve over the turns of the centuries; she'd also seen how it had stayed the same, a bit of her homeland stubbornly encroaching over the shores of Egypt. People spoke her mother tongue, with different inflections perhaps, but she suspected the fabled scholars of the Mouseion could surely hold conversation with their illustrious predecessors from distant Athens. Many noted her strange accent, the musical lilt she used for certain words, the emphasis she put on others. "Are you Roman, perchance?" one merchant had even asked her, once. "I've never heard someone speak as you do."
Kassandra had smiled, wistfully. "No. My homeland―my Ithaka―is… long gone, you could say." It was not a lie; the Sparta she remembered did no longer exist, lost to the ravages of time.
"Oh, that's a shame," the man had said, with the polite awkwardness of someone who did not know how to answer such a strange statement. "An Odysseus without a Penelope or a Telemakhos, are you?"
"Indeed," Kassandra had replied. "Indeed I am."
No doubt she made for a curious sight, a woman clad in armour like an Athena garbed in mortal flesh. Even now, passing through the halls of the Great Library, Kassandra felt dozens of inquisitive eyes upon her person. Most of the scholars present were men―old men who surely were wondering what a mercenary such as her sought in this most hallowed sanctuary of knowledge.
Children, she thought with the roll of the eyes. These fools thought themselves wise, but they would have been better off taking to heart Sokrates's most important maxim. But, alas, men in power rarely did; poor Sokrates himself had paid for this truth with his own life.
A group of children, boys and girls, were gathered in the sunlit space of the courtyard. No doubt they were playing now that their lesson was over. Kassandra smiled as she saw them rush by, laughing all the while. Wherever she went, children remained carefree and curious, like the little agents of joyful chaos they truly were. That was one constant of the world―and one she would not have changed for all the treasures of the Ancients.
Kassandra leaned on a marble column to watch them. The children were now cheering for a girl who was attempting to scale a tree now that their tutor had his back turned. The man cried out in fear as he finally noticed what his young charge was doing. That only made the girl's grin grow even wider. It was obvious that she was as experienced as she was talented; Kassandra felt an immediate fondness for the little daredevil.
By the time the girl had reached her destination, the rest of the children were hopping on their spots and chanting her name. Even from this distance, Kassandra could spy the mischievous glint shining in those dark eyes. To her companions' great joy―and her tutor's great horror―the girl lunged forward, leaping from her vantage point. She made a perfect roll on impact, going to one knee in a fluid, practised motion―now Kassandra was impressed. All of her friends erupted with manic glee. Meanwhile, the teacher jabbed a finger at the girl, giving her a severe scolding. Even then, the child did not lose her cheeky smile.
Something tugged at Kassandra's heartstrings. She had seen a similarly proud little face before, yes. She had known a girl who lived in defiance of the world, a girl who remained unapologetically herself even as others sought to put her in a metaphorical cage.
She had also never seen that girl grow up…
Gods, Kassandra thought, even though she had lost her faith long, long ago, let the Fates be more merciful to this one…
The children scattered; their poor harried-looking tutor went back to his studies. Only the black-haired girl remained in the courtyard, basking in the sun, one hand raised to shield her eyes from the blinding midday light. She turned slightly, looking at Kassandra, who was still leaning over her column.
"I don't think I've ever seen a warrior visiting the library before," the girl said, in Greek.
"How do you know I am a warrior?" Kassandra replied, in the Egyptian language.
The child folded her arms, jutting her chin at Kassandra. She was clad in Greek garb, but her black hair, as dark as a crow's wing, was gathered in a series of intricate braids. A constellation of freckles dotted her pretty, sun-kissed face.
"You look the part!" the child answered with a laugh, switching to the ancient tongue of Egypt as well. "You are a strange one alright. Not many Greeks care to learn the Egyptian language."
"How do you know that I am Greek?"
The girl smirked. "You speak Egyptian with the same accent my father uses when he speaks my mother's tongue."
"You have a discerning ear," Kassandra said, crouching to meet her gaze. As well as keen eyes. "Are you a student here?"
"My parents are teachers."
The daughter of scholars, with dirt on her knees and leaves in her hair. Of course, there was much to learn from climbing trees and running through untrodden paths. Kassandra looked at the girl, smiling bemusedly. "The Mouseion offers a class in climbing trees?"
"Oh, I learned that from the children in Siwa, when I went to visit my aunt. My father finds it amusing. My mother… less so."
Kassandra's smile grew wistful. "She must worry about you, little kite." She remembered another child who did not have any parent wringing their hands in concern whenever she acted with the folly of youth. Instead, Phoibe had been left in the care of the likes of Markos and Aspasia: underhanded schemers who saw her as a means to an end instead of one in need of protection. Kassandra felt a dull pang; no wonder her old friend had been met with a cruel fate.
"She does, but, oh, the stories my aunt tells me of their youth! She was as wild as I am… or maybe even more!"
The girl earnestly met Kassandra's gaze as she spoke. Her eyes, made larger and more expressive with the addition of kohl, were bright as honey. Again Kassandra was reminded of another child, a young boy who had also been blessed with a gold-flecked gaze. Elpidios. She had bestowed on him all of her hopes, yet had left him nothing but the taint of their blood. Both he and Phoibe had suffered for their connection with Kassandra. A bitter taste filled her mouth at the thought. It was a sore reminder of the vow she had taken upon embarking on this never-ending journey.
After all, in the end, Odysseus's return to Ithaka brought more misery to his family than his exile ever did.
It was this thought more than anything that made Kassandra stand, to the great puzzlement of the child. "I do not doubt it," Kassandra said, hesitating before adding, "But remember to remain careful. For the sake of your poor parents."
The girl cocked a brow. It was obvious she understood nothing of the lesson Kassandra had just imparted. But then, of course, children rarely did. "If you say so!" she said, cheerfully.
Kassandra turned to leave. "Farewell. May you lead a good life, little one."
"See ya!"
She did not want the girl to see the tears gathering in her eyes.