Chapter 21: Echoes of the Unsaid
The sounds of a small Spartan military camp echoes in the quiet night air. Soldiers' footsteps crunch over the dry earth, moving with purpose, their armor faintly clinking as they go about their assignments. A little farther, the horses neigh nervously, their eyes following the shifting shadows of their unusual company, a lynx hiding near them. A silver moon, less full and bright than the night before, hangs above the partly cloudy sky, casting a pale glow over the camp. The central fire pit crackles, its flames warming the air, while six torches are placed around the tents, providing a sense of security against the wild predators lurking in the night.
Two soldiers stand watch with their spears in hand while some eat and talk in hashed tones. Brasidas is sitting by the fire, rummaging through his pouch, his gaze occasionally drifting toward his worn tent. His heart is heavy. Kassandra is inside, recovering from wounds he was too late to prevent.
Inside the dim tent, Kassandra lies on a makeshift bedroll, trying to find rest on the hard ground. Every inch of her body aches, not just from the rough surface but from the numerous wounds she has. The medicinal kataplasma Brasidas has prepared stings against her skin, sending sharp, burning sensations through her body. She feels dizzy, her senses dulled by exhaustion, pain, and the aftereffects of whatever drugs the cultists have used. Her father is tending to her, his movements slow and careful, as though she will break under his touch. His brow is furrowed in concentration as he applies the herbs and bandages, his rough hands moving with an unusual gentleness.
Outside, Brasidas remains close, giving them a moment of privacy. Though Spartans are accustomed to nudity and the battlefield's raw intimacy, it doesn't feel right to intrude. Something about this moment, this vulnerability, feels uncomfortable. The thought of what Kassandra has endured troubles him, and a knot of dread tightens in his chest. She has been abducted, drugged, nearly sacrificed. The weight of it is unbearable, and Brasidas struggles to keep his composure. His face is a mask of stern resolve, but his hands tremble as he clenches them at his sides. He has to remain strong, for her.
Nikolaos finishes tending to her wounds and places a clean cloth over her torso, his eyes filled with concern. The bloody water in the bowl at his feet is a reminder of how close they have come to losing her.
"You and Brasidas…" Nikolaos begins, his voice quiet but steady. "The way you fought together was impressive. I had discarded Barnabas's stories about Korinth as exaggerations."
Kassandra winces as she shifts, a faint smile tugging at her lips despite the pain. "I was stronger then, although the synchronization between us is always the same."Pointing at her own wounds she adds. "He was badly injured, a lot worse than I am now."
Nikolaos raises an eyebrow. "He risked his life for you back then. A foolhardy move."
"He did." Her lips settle in a soft smile as she recalls their first encounter. It is one of her fondest memories. Brasidas had appeared out of nowhere, a helping hand when she least expected it. He hadn't asked for anything in return, hadn't demanded favors. He had simply fought alongside her, a stranger in need. She remembers the thrill of the fight, the rush of adrenaline, and how their movements matched, as if they were training together for years. It is rare to find someone so reliable, so kind, after everything she has endured. But here is Brasidas, proving that not all men are driven by selfish needs.
Her thoughts are interrupted by her father's voice, now thick with emotion. "Kassandra..." His tone falters, and for the first time in her life, she hears fear in the mighty Wolf of Sparta's voice. "Did they harm you in any other way?"
Kassandra stiffens at the question, her mind racing back to the dark moments in captivity. "I don't think so. I was drugged and I passed out a few times, but I would sense something was wrong, wouldn't I?" She searches her father's eyes, needing reassurance but is not fully convinced by her own words.
Nikolaos opens his mouth to respond and force it to offer an empty reassurance, but his gaze shifts to the low tent opening, where Brasidas now stands, frozen. He has heard everything- or at least an equally bad part of it, enough to understand. His face is uncharacteristically shocked, his mouth slightly agape. Kassandra tilts her head to the side, her expression unreadable. She blinks slowly, a silent message passing between them. He swallows hard, clears his throat, and moves toward them, lowering himself to the ground with a quiet graceful motion that makes the tension in his body fade.
Brasidas offers the clean bandages he had forgotten he was holding, sitting beside her on the cramped floor. The silence between the three of them is thick, palpable. After a long pause, Brasidas finally speaks, his voice tight with concern.
"You shouldn't travel alone." He says, his tone more a plea than a command.
"I grew up alone." Kassandra retorts, her voice sharp and immediate, a defense mechanism she can't control.
He shakes his head. "These people aren't like the thugs you've faced on Kephalonia. They're not the Cyklops. They almost drained your blood."
"I broke free without anyone's help." She counters, her voice softening slightly. She isn't ungrateful, she simply doesn't want them to worry. "I'm fine. You don't have to fear for my safety."
But Brasidas can't hold back the frustration in his voice. "How can we not? I -" He catches himself with her meaningful glare and he casts a quick glance at Nikolaos. He has to hide his feelings, bury the truth of what lies between him and Kassandra. This pretense is starting to feel unbearable. He wants to confront her father about it. How long are they going to lie to her? Now is not the time, but it has to cease soon. He sighs deeply, the fresh air in his lungs does nothing to calm him.
Kassandra tries to offer a smile, though it wavers. "Not just Spartans drink blood for breakfast." She jokes, though the effort to lighten the mood falls flat. "I'm fine, B."
Brasidas's heart clenches at the way she said his name. That small, intimate shortening of it. She is putting on a brave face, but he can see through it. He wants to take her in his arms, to hold her close and protect her from everything that has happened, from the memories that still haunt her.
Nikolaos rises, breaking the moment, his expression unreadable. "I'll bring you something to eat before you rest." He mutters before leaving the tent.
Silence settles again. Brasidas hesitates, then asks quietly. "Do you want me to stay with you tonight?"
Kassandra doesn't answer right away. When she finally nods, it is brief, almost imperceptible. Her eyes flicker to his for the barest moment before turning away again.
Nikolaos returns shortly after with food, and the three of them sit together in quiet companionship while Kassandra eats. Brasidas watches her closely, the tension in his chest never fully easing. When they leave the tent to organize the watches, Brasidas takes her father aside, informing him that he will personally stand guard over Kassandra tonight. Nikolaos purses his lips, but nods.
Later that night, Kassandra lays on Brasidas's chest, her head resting on the thin fabric of his chiton. Her spear is still clutched tightly in her hand, even as she sleeps. The long fabric of her chiton pools around her legs covering her skin like a fragile barrier between her and the world.
Brasidas, wearing all the pieces of his armor except from the breastplate, remains still beneath her. He is a silent protector, his arms wrapped securely around her, his mind racing. He chuckles softly when she shifts the spear closer to him, pressing its blade against his side.
"Careful with that." He whispers.
"Sorry." She murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper.
He chuckles again, teasing her lightly."No. No. It's alright. Just tell me what my head is worth these days. Betrayal may be easier to stomach if it makes you rich."
She smiles faintly, but her heart isn't in it. "A fortune, I might seek another time."Unable to tease him back, her body tenses, the weight of the past few days heavy on her shoulders. "I can't ease without it." She admits.
"They'll have to kill me to get to you. I won't leave your side until you wake up."
His reassurance isn't enough to ease her worries. After only a moment, her eyelids are wide open searching nervously his gaze.
"What if my father checks on me?"
"Don't worry, I considered everything when I scheduled the watches." He whispers kissing her forehead. "Clear your mind and rest."
Kassandra tries to relax, but every time she drifts toward sleep, the horrors of her captivity resurface. Dark images haunt her mind, twisting her dreams into nightmares. She stirs, her body trembling. Brasidas tightens his hold on her, whispering her name softly, trying to pull her away from the terror. His light strokes at her arms and his calm soft voice, seem to have no effect.
Her nightmares grow stronger, and soon, she is fighting against him in her sleep. Her grip on the spear tightens, and before he can react, she thrusts it toward him. Brasidas catches her wrist just in time, his heart pounding in his chest as he struggles to hold her back.
"Kassandra." He whispers urgently, trying to wake her.
She fights harder, her body moving instinctively to attack him. His voice is muffled by her unconscious fear, and he barely manages to restrain her before she can reach forhis spear. Both her hands are now gripping the broken weapon, her strength is undeniable, even in this state. Brasidas's muscles tense as he holds her back, whispering her name over and over, desperate to wake her from the nightmare.
Kassandra's eyes fly open suddenly, wild and filled with terror. Her breathing is ragged, her chest rising and falling as though she has just run from a battlefield. For a moment, she doesn't recognize him. Her body is still locked in a fight-or-flight response, her spear pressed dangerously close to his skin. But slowly, the fog of sleep lifts, and she sees him, sees the fear in his eyes, the concern across his face.
Her grip on the spear loosens as she remembers where she is. What has just happened. She has almost- no, she has attacked him. Brasidas's hold on her wrists slackens the moment he senses her recognition, and the spear slips from her fingers, falling to the ground with a dull thud.
"I... I didn't mean to -" Kassandra's voice trembles, the weight of what she has done hitting her like a wave.
"I know." Brasidas's voice is gentle, though strained with emotion. His hands cup her face, his thumb brushing away a stray tear that slides down her cheek. He leans in, pressing his forehead to hers, his breath warm against her skin. "It's alright."
But they both know it isn't and neither can pretend otherwise. His arms wrap around her once more, pulling her close. The broken spear lies forgotten on the ground as he kisses her forehead, a tender gesture filled with unspoken promises. "I'm here." He whispers struggling to hide a choke.
Kassandra buries her face in his chest, her hands clutching the fabric of his tunic as though he is the only solid thing in her world. Her body shakes, not from fear, but from the overwhelming exhaustion that comes after surviving something so terrible. She can hear the steady rhythm of his heart beneath her ear, a sound that grounds her, that reminds her she isn't alone.
Brasidas holds her tightly, his fingers tracing slow circles on her back, offering her the only comfort he knows how to give. He is careful where his fingers reach. A disturbing observation is that she tenses when he touches some spots, it seems to remind her of the previous days and unnerves her. He grits his teeth and shuts his eyes hard. He wants to do more, to take her pain away, but all he can do is stay by her side, a silent guardian in the night.
Time passes in quiet stillness, the tension easing with each steady breath. Kassandra's muscles gradually relax against him, her body finally surrendering to exhaustion. Her breathing becomes slow and even, signaling she has fallen back into sleep- this time, peacefully.
Brasidas keeps watch, his eyes fixed on her even as the fire outside the tent dims. He won't sleep. Not tonight. His mind is too restless, replaying the horrors she has faced and the raw vulnerability she has shown. He has never felt so powerless. For all his strength, for all his skill in battle, he can't protect her from the nightmares that haunt her.
But he will stay with her. He will protect her from whatever else the world might throw at her.
As her breathing deepens, Brasidas sighs softly, his tension easing ever so slightly. She is safe, for now. But he knows this won't be the last time she faces danger. He just prays that when it comes, he will be there, beside her, ready to face it together.
For now, he contents himself with the quiet. With the weight of her head resting on his chest, and the steady rhythm of her breath. He has no intention of leaving her side, not until she wakes in the morning, safe in his arms.
And in this moment, despite everything, he knows she will be alright. Because they are together, and that is enough.
The way her body fits into his arms is unique. Without the heavy armor, she seems so much smaller. He can't say tiny or frail- it would be disrespectful- but there's no denying that she feels more like a woman in his embrace, not the fierce warrior or the legendary misthios she is known to be. The contrast between the two unsettles him. He hates being reminded of this fact, at the moment. He equally hates it when others treat her like a demigod, but he would much rather the world see her as the demigod they proclaim her to be. Anything but this vulnerability. The mere thought of her getting hurt is a pain he cannot bear.
Nikolaos stands with his back to their small camp, his hand gripping the spear tightly, his posture rigid. The forest is eerily silent, and his sharp eyes never stray from the shadows, constantly scanning the woods for threats. His jaw clenches, muscles working under the tension. The footsteps behind him make him turn only slightly, acknowledging Brasidas without a word as the younger man steps beside him, their eyes both focused ahead.
"In case there is a child." Brasidas begins, his voice low and steady, though there's a trace of unease buried beneath the surface. "I'll claim paternity. Both shall be secure under my name in Sparta."
Nikolaos turns fully now, his sharp gaze resting on the younger Spartan. "Are you willing to raise a child that isn't yours?" The question is pointed, his tone laced with skepticism.
Brasidas nods, his gaze glued forward into the darkness. Though tension runs through his frame, his face is hard and unreadable. "It would be the least of my concerns. You know the laws. You know Kassandra. She wouldn't accept most... and she wouldn't stay."
The silence between them stretches as Nikolaos studies him, weighing the gravity of Brasidas's words. They both know that Kassandra would never willingly be bound to Sparta. A child, especially under these circumstances, would only be a reminder of what she might freedom. She would never be willing to stay, or even worse do so by raising a baby. The thought pains Brasidas. Not because of the innocent child, but because of what it would mean for Kassandra. His failure to protect her. The idea of her suffering, of not being able to shield her from harm, it twists inside him like a knife.
"You doubt she would consider marriage." Nikolaos acknowledges softly the sad truth and Brasidas nods again, the motion curt, the weight of reality settling heavy between them.
The words sting.
"Shouldn't put our hopes that high." Brasidas utters bitterly, turning on his heel. "Not under such circumstances."
His mind drifts down a path he rarely allows himself to tread. He always fights back such thoughts and whenever he has pondered on one, he has been restrained. He has imagined a future with her, a quiet life in Sparta, far from war. They wouldn't need the formalities of marriage or the burden of expectations. Just a peaceful life, where they could be together every day, living under the same roof. That would be enough for him. No pressure, no demands.
He would rather concern himself with simple worries, like convincing her to give it a try to raise their family together, should they ever have one. To stay a bit more than a few days each time she returns after roaming the seas and lands. A possible argument for a child. Their child. He could picture it, a home together, children playing perhaps. Kassandra travelling frequently, yet for shorter periods at a time, the happiness on their faces each time she returned. She might resist at first, but maybe she wouldn't hate the idea forever. Not yet. He thinks. Not like this. Not being forced to stay put.
"Brasidas." The Wolf's voice breaks through his thoughts. "Gratitude."
The commander only nods, his response silent as he continues walking. There is nothing left to say. The older man understands. He's seen the devotion in Brasidas's eyes. And he knows that Brasidas would go to great lengths for Kassandra. She deserves that kind of loyalty. That kind of love.
Kassandra wakes up from another nightmare, her heart racing, sweat dripping down her forehead. The remnants of the nightmare cling to her, making her feel disoriented and raw. Her eyes dart around the small tent, the emptiness of it hitting her like a physical blow. The bed beside her is cold. He's been gone for a while now. A bitter pang of disappointment tugs at her chest, though she refuses to acknowledge it fully.
He promised to stay. The thought brings a flash of anger. She believed him. She needed him here. By her side. She needed him to keep his word, as proof that her trust isn't misplaced. She needs him to be real. A wish she would never admit to him, but it stings, his absence, like an open wound. Grabbing the spear of Leonidas beside her, she forces herself to focus.
Sunlight streams in from outside the tent. She's slept past the early morning, but she's still exhausted. Pushing herself up, she rubs her eyes, trying to shake off the lingering daze and the weight of her emotions. As she steps toward the tent's entrance, she pauses, inhaling deeply to clear her mind. Her thoughts trail back briefly, wondering why he left before she 's when realization hits her perceiving his reasons to leave. Her face relaxes and her lips curve upwards.
Stepping outside, she takes in the small camp. The few Spartans go about their tasks, some soldiers are polishing their weapons, while others are training in quiet conversation. Two guards keep watch, their focus on the woods surrounding them. At the far end of the camp, she spots Nikolaos and Brasidas deep in conversation. Their hushed tone doesn't fool her, even from a distance, she can tell by their postures that the topic is serious.
As she approaches, their eyes lift, and she notices the subtle furrow of their brows. She catches their attention from a distance and yet they don't look pleased to see her. Whatever they're discussing, they clearly seem bothered she's about to interrupt their privacy and join the wonders why.
In a natural smooth move, Brasidas steps toward her, removing his cloak. Closing the remaining distance, cloak in hand, his expression softens. He places it gently on her shoulders, and as his fingers secure the fabric, her eyes drop to her appearance. She's a bloody mess. The chiton, once white, is now grey from dust and stained with blood and dirt. Despite the spots, it's a rather transparent fabric, thus the dark circles of her nipples can be easily discerned. Suddenly, she is acutely aware of how exposed she is. Her cheeks flush, realizing she just walked through a camp of soldiers like this, in front of both Brasidas and her father. Damnit. Her already frail nerves waiver for a moment longer. She is unexpectedly grateful for the Spartan beliefs on nudity and women. Were they grown in any other city-state and she couldn't walk among all those soldiers like that and evade being noticed. They would have harassed her, mocked and accused her along with many other possibilities she doesn't want to imagine.
But she straightens, tightening her grip on her spear.
To hell with it. She thinks. She's seen far worse. She has been through worse. She won't let a little embarrassment weaken her now. She may have fallen, but she is back on her feet. A true fighter. A true survivor.
"We're ready to go whenever you are." Nikolaos informs her with a straight face.
A curse almost slips through her lips at his calm demeanor. Since when did Nikolaos become such a good father? She hates to admit, he's handling the situation with remarkable restraint, pretending nothing happened, and for once, she's grateful. She kicks herself out of the stupid brain loop forcing her mouth to respond. He did make a great effort to jump straight to the point not to embarrass her, she shouldn't ruin his attempt.
"Attika is more hostile than ever." She mutters, calling for Phobos. "Let's get away from here."
As she rifles through her pouch on Phobos, her irritation grows. She finds her armor, the Amazon breastplate and belt, her bronze greaves, bracers and a leather sheath, but no spare chiton. Letting out a frustrated groan, she sets to motion. She pulls on the bracers and greaves first, then cuts the chiton above her knees with the blade of her spear shortening the useless white fabric and makes a cut at the side of her other leg. She wears the belt above the white chiton securing it carefully around her waist. Thankfully the leather stripes of the pteruges hang wide enough to cover her hips, but she's still far from battle-ready. There is one huge problem left to solve. She stares at the breastplate, trying to figure out a way to place it on without having what is needed.
"Don't even think about it!" Brasidas's voice cuts through her focus, firm and unwavering. "You need to keep the wound clean. No breastplate."
She turns, meeting his stern gaze, and sighs in frustration. "I can't go around like this, Brasidas. I'm supposed to be a misthios."
Her annoyance reflects from her words on her face and the moves of her hands. She feels ridiculous, wearing a Spartan cloak above that joke of an armor. She is barely covered, unfit to fight and certainly more revealing than she would like to be.
"We'll buy a chiton once we reach an agora. By the time you heal, you'll be fully armored." The Wolf adds.
She sighs and sheaths her spear passing her arms through the leather stripes, securing it on her back.
"Ridiculous!" She mutters shaking her head.
Brasidas chuckles, though the tension in his face remains. "You'll be the famous Eagle Bearer again, soon. For now, food and clean bandages."
Nikolaos nods, silently agreeing, and she rolls her eyes. The two of them always in agreement, always acting in unison. It's maddening how much alike they are. And even more frustrating how much she's grown to care for Brasidas. Among all the men she's met, she fell for him. She hates that her heart betrayed her, choosing him- a man so much like her father. Malaka.
Later, while the soldiers are making their last preparation before departing, Brasidas assists Kassandra with Phobos and Kass a little farther. The small distance between the lynx and the rest of the horses offers them some privacy to speak more freely in hushed tones, a privilege they wouldn't have otherwise.
Brasidas sighs before he speaks, his voice lower, more personal. "Don't get me wrong." He begins, searching her face for understanding. "The thought of leaving your side... it's harder than ever."
She blinks, her expression is calm, but his words cut deeper than they seem. His honey-brown eyes carry a quiet pain, unspoken fears that he struggles to articulate. His unsaid words are hanging there, his emotions bared before her. She offers him a brief, soft smile in return.
"You're always there for me, even when I don't ask." She says, her voice more tender than she intended.
His lips curve into a bittersweet smile. "I'll always be there, Kassandra. You never have to ask."
She takes his hand, squeezing it gently. "And I'll be fine. Always have been."
He doesn't look convinced.
Brasidas remains silent for a moment, his hand still clasped in hers, but there is a heaviness in his expression that she can't ignore. His eyes, usually sharp and full of determination, now seem clouded with concern, the kind that isn't easily shaken off.
"You say you'll be fine." He mutters, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I can't help but think of all the times you've faced death."
She blinks, surprised by the raw honesty in his voice. Her initial instinct is to brush it off, to put up the walls she always does when someone tries to get too close. But something about the way he looks at her, like she is both invincible and fragile at the same time, make her pause. For a moment, just a brief one, she allows herself to feel the weight of his worry. It stirs something within her, something she hasn't let herself feel in a long time.
"I've survived worse than this, and I'll keep surviving. That's what I do."She notes, her voice steadier than she feels. "I've been chased for over fifteen years. Wanted dead, but I'm still here."
He releases a shaky breath, his fingers tightening around hers for a moment longer before he lets go. "I know." He admits, his jaw clenching as if fighting against saying more. "But it doesn't stop me from wanting to protect you. And it doesn't make it easier to see you hurt."
Her heart twists at his words. There is a vulnerability in him now that she didn't fully understand before. For all his strength and resolve, Brasidas cares deeply. More deeply than she has allowed herself to acknowledge. She has seen him as a warrior, a soldier loyal to Sparta, a Commander, but here, in this quiet moment, she sees the man underneath it all. And that man cares for her in a way that is difficult for her to comprehend.
Malaka.
She turns her gaze away, focusing on the horizon, trying to steady the sudden rush of emotions. "I'm not used to people worrying about me." She confesses quietly, almost to herself. "Not like this."
"You'll have to get used to it." Brasidas replies, his tone lighter, but still carrying the weight of his feelings. "Because I'm not going anywhere."
Her throat tightens, and for once, she doesn't know what to say. So, she offers him the only truth she can. "I'm not going anywhere either, Brasidas. You don't have to worry about that."
He smiles, but it's small and fleeting, as though he still carries the burden of what lays ahead. They both know that the road is uncertain. War, the cult of Kosmos, and death follow them wherever they go. Yet, despite it all, there is something unspoken between them.
Before either can say more, Nikolaos approaches, interrupting the moment. His presence is calm, but the look in his eyes tells them it is time to move on. He glances between the two of them, a knowing expression crossing his face, though he says nothing of what he has likely overheard.
"Everything is ready." Nikolaos announces, his voice steady and commanding. "We need to leave before the sun gets too high."
Kassandra nods, pulling herself together, her walls back in place. "Let's move."
She turns toward Phobos, gripping the reins tightly, and for a moment, allows herself a glance back at Brasidas. His eyes are already on her, his expression unreadable, but there is a warmth in his gaze that stays with her as she mounts the horse.
With that, they ride away, the weight of their earlier conversation lingering in the air between them. As they venture further from Attika, the tension between Kassandra and Brasidas eases and is replaced by the familiar rhythm of travel. The landscape around them doesn't change much, the paths among the trees are narrow, offering little room for conversation with the soldiers following right behind them.
Every now and then, Kassandra's thoughts drift back to the conversation in the camp, to Brasidas's words, to the look in his eyes. She wonders what it would be like to give in to that part of herself that longs for something more, something deeper. But she pushes those thoughts aside. Now isn't the time for such distractions.
The moon is high in the sky, casting a pale silver glow over the mounted figures. Shadows stretch long and deep under the trees, and the sound of the horses' hooves is muffled by the soft dirt of the road. The silence of the night is interrupted only by the occasional rustling of leaves in the light breeze. The small group, led by Nikolaos and Brasidas, rides cautiously through the enemy territory, their senses heightened by the possible threat of Athenian patrols.
The tension in the air is thick, each rider alert to any sign of movement in the darkness. Kassandra keeps her gaze sharp, her hand resting on the hilt of her spear as she scans the shadows ahead. Nikolaos, riding beside her, has the same stern expression he always wears, but his eyes flick toward her more than usual. Behind them, Brasidas rides in silence, though his thoughts are anything but calm.
Suddenly, one of the Spartan soldiers sent to scout ahead appears from the darkness, his horse moving swiftly but quietly. He pulls up alongside Nikolaos, his face tight with urgency.
"General! Commander!" The soldier whispers hoarsely, barely able to contain the alarm in his voice. "Athenian troops, spotted northeast of here marching west."
Nikolaos's face darkens as he glances toward Brasidas. The commander's brow furrows, his jaw clenches tightly as he processes the information. The scout's report confirms what has been a constant worry in his mind, lately, the Athenians are preparing for something larger. And if they are moving reinforcements through the cover of night, it means they intend to strike soon, possibly before Brasidas returns to Megaris. Worse still, these soldiers are not headed toward the known Athenian force but toward a different, more dangerous destination.
"How many?" Brasidas demands, his voice low and sharp as he dismounts.
"Hard to tell in the dark, but enough to raise concern. A few hundred heading possibly toward the coast. We need to inform Commander Aristeus."
Nikolaos speaks up before Brasidas can respond. "We're far. You need to rush to Megaris, Brasidas. The Commander needs to know. You're his second-in-command, and if these reinforcements reach the city before you do, it will be chaos."
Brasidas remains silent for a moment, staring into the distance where the scout has indicated the Athenian troops are moving. His mind races with possibilities, formations, tactics, outcomes. But beneath the tactical considerations, there is something else, something he is trying hard to suppress. He doesn't want to leave. Not yet. His heart pulls him toward Kassandra, a silent force urging him to delay, to stay longer by her side.
But every voice around him, including the one in his own head, reminds him of his duty. Aristeus needs him. Megaris needs him. Sparta needs him.
"You must go." Nikolaos says again, his voice firmer this time. He exchanges a glance with Brasidas, one that speaks more than words could say. Nikolaos knows the turmoil in Brasidas's heart. He knows more than his daughter would ever guess. But he also knows the burden of duty.
"Everyone's saying that." Brasidas mutters, his frustration slipping through his normally disciplined exterior. He paces around, his hand stroking his beard as his thoughts race.
Parting is inevitable, with every step closer to Megaris, their time together runs shorter. He's aware. A few hours longer or a day at most, won't be enough for either of them to mend their emotional wounds. His logic tells him that, but his heart aches already. His gaze flicks briefly to Kassandra, who is looking away, avoiding his face. She has been maintaining the appearance of nothing more than friendship, but he needs to at least meet her eyes before he can go.
And he does.
She faces him with a firm expression. "We'll be fine." She whispers under her breath, so only the four of them will hear. She forces a smile, though her stomach twists at the thought of him leaving. "You have to go." Her voice is steady, but she feels the familiar sting of being second in his life, behind duty and honor. She understands, nut understanding doesn't make it easier.
Nikolaos gives Brasidas a sharp look, though there is a hint of understanding in his eyes. "Brasidas, you have to make a decision, and fast."
Brasidas exhales slowly, rubbing the back of his neck as the tension rises within him. "We can't stay here, but moving towards Megaris as we are isn't an option either." He looks back at Kassandra, who is deliberately keeping her eyes ahead, though her shoulders are tense, betraying her awareness of the situation.
Brasidas hesitates, torn between his duty and his desire. Every instinct tells him to turn his horse toward Megaris, to lead his men back to defend the city. But the thought of leaving Kassandra hurts him, a persistent ache that he can't shake. He knows what is right, but his heart is pulling him in another direction."I'll send word to Aristeus." He says after a long pause, as though trying to find a solution that keeps him from parting with her too soon.
Nikolaos, sensing his hesitation, gives Brasidas a knowing look. "Take care of your duty, Brasidas. We'll be alright out here." His voice drops low, almost conspiratorial, though Kassandra's eyes remain fixed ahead, as if unaware of their exchange.
Brasidas gives a curt nod. He motions to the group of soldiers he took with him. "You three will take the battle plans to Aristeus." Brasidas orders, his voice authoritative once more. "Tell him the Athenians are moving reinforcements and to prepare for a siege. I'll join him soon."
With swift precision, Brasidas reaches the pouch on his horse, unfurls a map and begins sketching tactical formations, outlining strategies to break the Athenian ranks and prevent the city from being surrounded. His hand moves quickly, and the soldiers watch with rapt attention. Kassandra glances sideways, admiring the precision of his planning, though she keeps her face neutral. She has always admired his tactical mind, even though she wishes his priorities were explains his ideas while one of the soldiers is tasked to keep notes. Brasidas signs the letter handing it along with his seal to one of the soldiers to ready the wax and seal it up. Meanwhile, Nikolaos has ordered the rest of the group to take a short break allowing them a moment of repose.
When Brasidas finishes, he hands the parchment to the lead soldier. "Go." He orders, and without hesitation, the three soldiers ride off into the no time, he turns to face Kassandra. "I'll ride with you until you're past Megara." His voice quiet, yet heavy. "After that…" He trails off, as though unable to bring himself to say the words.
Kassandra's throat tightens, but she nods. "After that, you'll have a battle to win." She finishes for him.
As the rest of the group prepares to ride again in the darkness, Brasidas allows himself to steal another glance at Kassandra. The moonlight reflects off her armor, casting her in an ethereal glow. She meets his gaze, briefly, before looking away again, her expression unreadable. But Brasidas can feel the tension between them.
After a moment, Kassandra approaches him, pulling off his red Spartan cloak. In the dim light, the deep crimson looks almost black, but its significance isn't lost on either of them.
"You can't leave without your cloak." She notes looking into his eyes holding the red cloth between their bodies.
He shakes his head without breaking eye contact. "You need it. Keep it." He says quietly, reaching out to secure it on her shoulders once more. His gaze doesn't stray away from her eyes and it warms her heart.
Kassandra frowns, glancing down at the cloak. "You have a battle ahead, Brasidas. It's your protection in the phalanx. You know that."
He smiles faintly, though there is sadness in his eyes. "I'll find something red to wear." His hand still lingers on her shoulder when her palm reaches out and rests against it.
Nikolaos watches the exchange in silence, his face unreadable, though his eyes betray a hint of something softer. He knows what is happening between them, even if Kassandra doesn't realize he is aware. But he says nothing. His daughter is too headstrong, too willful to admit her feelings. It is better this way, for both of them.
Just like that they mount their horses to continue. Kassandra, wrapped in his red cloak, watches him, slightly ahead, her heart heavy with the knowledge that duty always comes first.
They have been traveling for hours, and the time for Brasidas to part from them is drawing near. The path will fork leading him back toward the Spartan camp and the impending battle. Kassandra's journey will continue further north for a while before turning east and then south to the Peloponnese.
At last, the Spartan camp is at their left and a low hill at their right. The trees thicken around them from here on, Brasidas calls out to the group.
"We should stop here for a moment." His voice steady but laced with an undertone of something deeper. "It's safer than resting near the fort of Plataia."
Nikolaos, riding alongside the few of the remaining Spartan soldiers, nods and gives Brasidas a firm look. His eyes betray the knowledge he carries, that Brasidas and Kassandra need this time alone, a fact he won't acknowledge outright. He gives his daughter a brief glance, stern but softened with the kind of affection that has developed in their renewed relationship. "I'll make sure the men are ready to move on through the hostile area."
With a respectful nod to Brasidas, Nikolaos guides the soldiers further down the path at the side of the road, giving them the privacy they need.
Brasidas dismounts from his horse and approaches Kassandra, who is still seated atop Phobos with Kass jumping from her lap, her posture calm but her eyes reflecting the sadness she tries to suppress. He looks up at her, waiting patiently for her to meet his sad yet warm gaze.
"I hate this." He utters, breaking the silence between them. His voice is rough with emotion, more than he typically allows himself to show. "I wish I could stay."
Kassandra slides down from her horse and lands gracefully beside him. She straightens her shoulders, meeting his gaze with that familiar confidence he has grown to admire. But he sees it, the flicker of worry in her eyes, though she masks it well.
"You have your duty, Brasidas." She pauses, her voice steady. "And I have mine. I'll manage." She turns her gaze away for a brief moment, pretending to adjust the strap of her bracer, avoiding the intensity of his stare.
He reaches out, his fingers lightly brushing her arm. "That's not what I mean, Kassandra. I'll miss you. Every minute I'm away, I'll be thinking about you… worrying about you. Praying to see you again..."
Kassandra's heart tightens at his words, though she keeps her face unreadable. The vulnerability in his voice touches something deep within her, but she can't afford to let it show. Not now. She swallows hard, forcing a small, confident smile onto her lips. "You'll come back victorious to Lakonia, where I'll be for a while. In Gytheion, getting drunk on the Adrestia."
He smiles at her attempt to lighten the moment, but the sadness lingers. He steps closer, lowering his voice as if the darkness around them could somehow shield their words from the world. "Will you wait for me?" He asks, his tone pleading. "Just for a little while. Don't leave too soon. I want to see you before you go. I need to."
Kassandra's chest aches at the request. The thought of waiting, of seeing him again, is both comforting and painful. She knows the risks, the uncertainty of war. But how could she deny him?
"I'll wait." She promises, her voice barely above a whisper. "But you have to come back, Brasidas. Don't keep me waiting."
His eyes soften at her words, and he nods. "I will. I'll fight through every battle with the thought of you in my mind."
She gives a small nod, the tension between them thickening with the reality of what is about to happen. Parting is inevitable, but the bond they have formed is undeniable.
He opens his arms then, fearing she might deny a kiss, with the soldiers and Nikolaos nearby. Instead, he pulls her into a firm embrace, holding her as if this moment has to last a lifetime. Kassandra lets herself relax against him, allowing herself to feel the warmth of his body, the safety she rarely admits she needs.
"I'll wait for you." She whispers, her words barely audible against his collar bone.
They stand like that for a few moments longer, the night air cool around them, the stars blinking above as silent witnesses to their parting.
When Brasidas finally pulls away, there is a deep sadness in his eyes, but also determination. "Take care of yourself." He whispers.
Kassandra nods, biting back the urge to say more, to tell him how much his leaving affects her. She swallows it down and buries the words behind a deep kiss. "Be careful." She mumbles against his wet lips sealing their promises with a last brush against his mouth. Pulling back, her palm strokes his scarred cheek. "Don't do anything reckless."
He flashes her a sad smile, knowing that recklessness in battle is a part of his very nature, but he will try, for her.
At that moment, Nikolaos approaches, his footsteps light but purposeful. He gives Brasidas a sharp nod, respect clear in his eyes. "You'll return with another victory." Nikolaos says, clapping the younger man on the shoulder.
Brasidas meets his gaze and nods firmly. "I'll do what must be done." He looks once more at Kassandra before mounting his horse, his heart heavy but his mind clear. Duty calls, but his promise to her will remain. He will return. He has to.
With a final glance, Brasidas turns his horse and rides towards the camp, leaving Kassandra standing there, watching him disappear into the twilight. The sound of his horse's hooves fades into the distance, and she lets out a slow breath she didn't realized she was holding.
Nikolaos approaches her, his presence a steadying force.
"Come. You need to rest before we move on."
Kassandra gives a final glance down the path Brasidas has taken, her heart heavy, but she pushes the feelings down and follows her father. She will wait, just as she has promised. For now, all she can do is move forward.
And hope.
Notes:
Back after a very long time. I admit my other fic has consumed me, but I finally decided to work on both! It was unfair for 'Life of a legend' to remain on an unofficial hiatus. Shame on me, really! I'll try working on both from now on, so I'm positive there will be updates sooner or later. The good news is that I have A LOT – someone could say too many- drafts for many oncoming chapters. The bad news is always that I'm slow and awful at editing! Still, there is one I'm currently writing and I need your opinion!
SUPER IMPORTANT
I have an important question for you. Well, I currently write an upcoming scene for later and there are a few ways to unfold...
1) Mostly cute and funny
2) Super HILARIOUS and a bit cute
3) Funny, only a little cute and mostly uncomfortable and tense for Brasidas (the angst making it funnier close to hilarious if you laugh with Kassandr and Brasidas getting embarrassed)
Seriously even the titles I've given to each version make me laugh upon seeing my files!
(Well, I admit I tend to like bringing on an extra dose of drama so maybe I feel closer to the third, but I'm not sure if I'm fair with the other two. They seem more realistic... actually less of a circus.)
I really don't know what to pick for the publishing version, so reach out! The sooner I decide, the better!
Thank you all for your love and constant support! Have a great day!
