Chapter 9: Husband and wife
Brasidas opens the door for her. This house is almost like hers only newer and a bit bigger. No, she can't compare it to hers. There is no such thing any longer, rather her old home. Kassandra will need time to get used to it. A change she will never truly accept. She walks inside and freezes in the center of the room, refusing to make it any easy for him. She will do anything in her power to ensure they won't consummate the wedding. Her sudden stillness seems to be misunderstood. She gathers he mistakes her denial for fear or hesitation by the way he approaches her slowly with a soft smile.
He stands in front of her and gently picks up her tied hand raising his own simultaneously. His fingers work fast with the bindings and somehow manage not to touch her. He raises her now free hand to his lips brushing them softly against her knuckles. She stares at him, anger building up inside her with his pretense to be caring and gentle. Standing so close, she can smell the wine as his breath falls hot on her cheek. He releases her and takes a few more steps further tagging the leather into his belt.
Kassandra watches him coldly. She wants to mock him. What is he going to do with their marital ties? People keep such things for sentimental reasons, for the happy memories such a piece would hold. Not in their case. Maybe he will dispose it later and he just didn't want to throw it carelessly with her as a witness. He is a pretentious man who cares for his image after all. He looks back and notices she hasn't moved, yet.
"This house is new to both of us. Let's see it." He suggests and offers his hand.
She slaps it away. "I don't like you. You are an arrogant opportunist."
"Thank you for your honesty. It's not necessary in a happy marriage."
"We're never going to be happy together."
He sighs. "Come and decide where you'll be sleeping. Don't worry I will be at the barracks for the next three years."
She eyes him then. Three years may be in the future, still it's not that far. Especially, for the fact he refers to. She can't stand him and it won't change in three years, neither in ten, nor in fifty. She would die before she would ever accept him as a husband in anything but name. He may believe that she will back down at some point. He is wrong believing that. She has thought about her course of action. She will pull up a fight and won't let him have what he thinks he does. He will face resistance the moment he tries to physically overstep the boundaries.
If she hasn't made it clear yet, then it's about time she does.
"I'm going nowhere with you."
"I won't touch you, alright? I give you my word." His promise isn't enough, she shakes her head and remains rooted to the spot. "I won't force myself on you, ever."
Her head turns sharply at him. She is offended. It's annoying to be thought as weak. She is the Wolf's daughter. She had training in her youth, until her mother started complaining about the bruises and the bloody knees. If Myrrine wasn't so stuck on her daughter's image, Kassandra would be an even better fighter right now and he wouldn't be able to mock her.
"Try it and I'll cut your throat." She states glaring at him.
He doesn't answer. He walks at the first door and opens it commenting on the room. Then at the second and so on. She hardly listens. Her anger has blocked out everything else, but her misery and her desperate thoughts.
"The last is the largest, you'll be more comfortable there."
She reaches it in a few quick strides and is about to slam the door shut when his forearm stops it. She presses against it with all her body weight, but he manages to push the door open. Her heartbeat quickens and she watches him with wide eyes. He steps through the doorframe coming closer and closer, slowly advancing toward her. Her eyes dart around her frantically for an escape route or some kind of useful object that could stall him. To her dismay there is nothing to throw or use to defend herself. Suddenly, she realizes that this is the most secluded part of the house, looking at the fields, away from the neighborhood houses. She paralyzes with dread as he steps in front of her.
How stupid to believe him. Like she hasn't been a fool before. Isn't he the same man that kissed her just because he thought he could. Isn't he the same man that whispered in her ear on the street that she would be his. Why would she ever believe him? Her anger clouds her judgement and she launches on him.
Kassandra slaps his face hard and pushes him back. Her hand rises again, but he grabs it so she ceases hitting him. She tries to strike him with the other and he holds both her hands intending to restrict her until she calms down, but instead, it fuels her anger. She kicks him with all her might and earns a groan from him as he releases her.
"I just brought your things."
He extends his hand holding the bag her mother had prepared. She hadn't noticed. However, she isn't crazy, he isn't trustworthy. She snatches it from him wordlessly. She expects him to exit and leave her alone like he said he would. He's still standing there with a look in his eyes she can't comprehend. She turns her back on him taking off her veil and throwing it away. If he is waiting for an apology, he isn't going to receive one. When she looks at him again, he unsheathes a short sword from his belt and holds it low in his hand.
"The tradition, I have to cut your hair before you sleep."
"Don't you dare! No consummation, no haircut." She declares stepping back far away from him.
Her back almost touches the wall. The notion that she may be provoking him pinches her mind stopping her mouth. He seems calm so far, his voice low and soft. What if her behavior enrages him?
There is a moment of silence where their gazes cross. The dagger in his hand is still low in a calm loose grip. Her arms cross over her chest while he grimaces.
"They must believe the marriage is legal."
She huffs shaking her head, a defiant smile on her lips. "I'd rather not. I refuse."
"Don't act like a child."
He has somewhat raised his tone, but she can't just let him have it. He is wrong, he is to blame, he must learn to accept her denial.
"I am. Most girls marry at twenty or over."
"Would the king wait that much for an heir?" Brasidas retorts in the same accusing way, full of irony. "Would he wait at all?"
She is taken aback. He is right about that one. If this was her wedding night with Pausanias, she would have no power at all. She would be unable to refuse him and he would probably be more tenacious. He would almost demand an Agiad heir shortly after their union. She shudders in the mere thought shifting her attention back on Brasidas, whose steady stare is fixed on her. His raised eyebrow, almost taunting, is an unmistakable sign he has followed perfectly her trail of thought.
"You ruined everything. Someone else would save me. Someone I love."
She has every right to hate him, or the man she believes him to be, he has been feeding her lies. What did he expect? He made her believe another man would save her. Made her fall for a shadow soldier and tore her world apart. He has been too optimistic thinking she would accept him, typically, no less. That there is even one chance of her letting him near her or lying in the same bed. He has shown nothing good and decent as Brasidas. Nothing gentle and kind. On the contrary, he has been abrupt and has tried to intimidate her more than once. In his attempt to plot the perfect scheme and bring it to life, he completely neglected Kassandra. Neglected to show her even a small part of his real self and his love for her.
It's crazy to have any expectations after the choices he made. It's too late to change her perception of him now. No, not forever, but for some time. He should be gentle proving his good intent and love every day for long until maybe one day she reconsiders and softens. He has already won her heart once. He can win it anew.
Because she does love him, the man behind all the masks, the one she came to know in the cover of the dark nights. Just not this pretender whom has treated her awful in so many ways.
He regrets raising his voice. There must be a way, to make everything appear as they should without hurting or intimidating her. She may hate him for this, but he must secure his title as her husband first. Covering the truth requires two simple acts and her cooperation.
"I suggest you don't share this information with others." He says softly a moment later, pretending slight annoyance.
"You're jealous? Well, get that. I'm not yours. I belong to someone else."
Her smile is joyless, its only aim is to spite him. The plan works just fine. He will push just one bit further and hope for the best. He needs an excuse since she refuses to make it any easier.
"You imply that you have... been with a man?"
His question feels uncomfortable, but she has enough time before he finishes the sentence to brace herself for the lie she's going to tell.
Her cheeks flush a little with color. "Yes."
"Alright then, no need to delay cutting your hair." He says and his hand moves to her hair.
"No." She exclaims and pushes him back forcefully.
With the space that she gained she ceases the opportunity to grab her own knife. Although, she doesn't aim to cut his hair, but his skin to send him away. He shakes his head and she rolls her eyes in response. He isn't having his way. He will have to get over her dead body.
At the first motion she slices the air with her blade. Again, and then again. He is trying to approach her from all kind of directions to find an easy opening. Unfortunately for him, she knows how to defend herself. She holds her ground well enough. Two or three more approaches are unfruitful, she isn't tired and she's not giving up. Chin high, eyes narrowed as she observes his moves.
Then suddenly in a real quick move she is disarmed and locked in his arms. She looks at him with wide eyes. It seems he wasn't actually trying at first, but he got tired of her games. She pushes and kicks in his grip, but this time nothing is enough. She is trapped in his embrace, her body is pulled on his by his arms around her. She can smell the wine on his lips and she fears. Her eyes are wide, stare into his in an attempt to comprehend what he intends to do. He cuts her hair with a swift swipe and she feels her beautiful heavy strands fall on the floor around her legs. Tears reach her eyes, but she refuses to release them in his presence.
His grip slowly slackens and he lets her go. The moment he seethes his sword, she slaps him again for distraction and shifts the hold of her knife. She advances in an attempt to stab him at his stomach, but he wraps his fingers around her wrist. His eyes sad. She slaps him again with her other hand, scratching his cheek in the process. He doesn't even flinch. He leads the blade that is still into her hold, to his palm and adds pressure. It cuts his skin drawing blood and she opens her fist dropping the red stained blade. He walks towards the bed and raises his hand over its center. Letting a few drops of blood fall and stain the fur. Without another word he exits the room closing the door behind him.
Her hands tremble while her feet remain rooted. Eyes glued on the blood, she struggles to breathe evenly. So much happened in such short time. She feared he would abuse her and to her relief she was wrong. After a certain point, she expected him to be aggressive or mean when he was calm. The guilt of harming him and cutting his hand grows. She was the one holding the knife when he pressed it on himself to pierce his skin. She felt it, too. It was worse than she ever thought. Causing someone actual pain feels awful. It's just as bad as the outcome.
Her white marriage seems real. Her hair is cut short. His blood marks the bed and it's supposedly hers. The only thing he doesn't know is that she is still intact and she could use that to prove her fake marriage.
She is still in shock, standing solid on the same spot he left her long ago. Her palms are covered in sweat trembling as they hang limply at her sides. By the time she plops on the bed, her legs feel shore. She doesn't know whether he left or stayed. He was granted the first night with his wife at home. Supposedly, it's their first and only night together until he is allowed to cease living in the barracks. They couldn't guess how hollow this accommodation is. How could anyone imagine. A new couple would be glad to be given some space and time.
Real couples would secretly spend nights together whenever they could even if the man was supposed to sleep in the barracks. It's common secret that husbands under the age of thirty sneak into their houses at nights often. She guesses Brasidas will avoid following that example in the future. Unless, he wants to prevent or reduce any gossip. Right, he has to maintain an image after all, he can't differ that much from the rest on this. As far as he knows, he made certain their marriage is considered consummated. It seems unlike to have any intent of ruining his cover.
Her logic tells her he must have stayed, tonight. Therefore, she must stay alerted. Would she feel safer to sleep in an empty house, or with him in the next room? She can't be certain. She can only hope that if wine has affected him at all, it makes him sleepy instead of yearning.
She curls on the bed her knees touching her chest as she cries silently. Sleep is unwelcome and hard to come, but she finally gives in to exhaustion.
Sun rays reach inside the room lighting it up. Kassandra opens her eyes to an unfamiliar environment. Closes them again sighing. It wasn't a nightmare she just woke up in one. Half-heartedly, she gets up and steps out of the door only to find Brasidas still in the house. He has brought wine and cups and food from the market. Walking closer with small slow steps, she watches him setting an amphora on the table. He doesn't raise his head to acknowledge her, though.
"What are all these for?" Kassandra questions giving in to her curiosity.
"Our parents will come over. Tradition, remember? They are supposed to be the witnesses." He reminds her and she huffs. "We must convince them." He adds with a side glance.
She notices his hand is bandaged up to his wrist and her stomach twists. She cut him. Her eyes stray to his face and there it is. Another mark of hers. A red thin line, the scratch from her nail. Her heart falls. Guilt starts to circle her. She had no reason to hurt him. Her reaction was indeed irrational. If her mother or father knew of her behavior, they would be ashamed of her. In a way she feels ashamed, too. Still, she strongly believes it's his fault that they are in this situation right now. Because of him, she is not in the arms of the man she loves.
She presses her lips together in a thin line. "What am I supposed to do?" She questions in a mocking way, failing to hide her irritation.
"We are pretending to be a new couple that has come to an agreement. They'll check the bedroom and that's it."
"Mine?"
Brasidas nods calmly despite her manner. "Yes, for the rest of the world it's our bedroom, Kassandra."
He is making the hints politely enough. She is supposed to be his wife. His. The blood is proof of that. That's the custom, for some witnesses to verify the union. Despite her feelings for Brasidas or the fact that he staged that scene, it seems true and she rathers lying than being forced for real. As long as he complies on his side, she has no reason to protest. On the contrary, she should be glad, he didn't force her. Putting on a play for everyone else while the two of them have no interactions together is a much preferable fate. One she can only hope he is interested in preserving.
She hurries to clean up the mess and he follows right behind her only to witness the same scene from the previous night. He sighs picking up her carelessly discarded knife and goes to the kitchen in search of some rug. He has to try and clean the blade before the damage is permanent. She is moving around collecting hair when she hears voices from outside. Gods, they are already here.
When she appears from the room, Brasidas has already welcomed everyone in and taken care of all the stuff she would hate to do as the woman of the house. Woman of the house, hostess, she even hates the words. All eyes land on her and she immediately feels she isn't ready for all this. Her knees beneath her weaken, but she manages to make it at the empty seat beside Brasidas who stands to offer her his place. His pretense of a caring husband makes her want to punch him in the face.
"Kassandra, why are you wearing your wedding peplos?" Myrrine notes with pursued lips.
"It was a poor choice. I'm sorry."
"Let's not make the newlyweds uncomfortable. They are both so young and overwhelmed." Nikolaos intervenes sensing the tension. "We forget the time we were in their place." He adds with a soft
good-natured chuckle.
"Indeed, General. We were lost. I recall hardly mumbling words from my unease." Telis agrees.
Argileonis smiles recalling fondly the memory and shakes her head with humor. "Men. Although, women take over quickly and lead the house. Don't you agree, Myrrine?"
"We certainly adapt fast, usually." Myrrine says the last word casting a penetrating stare at her daughter.
"My bride is still young. Gladly for us, I make it up with my overconfidence."
Brasidas breaks in the conversation and manages to turn all eyes on him in an instant. A part of her is grateful, another one is annoyed. His chuckle so cocky, she doubts it sounded familiar last night. No, her ears were tricked by her aching heart and the wine.
"Then, Kassandra needs our advice. Come, my dear." Argileonis prompts and she can't disobey.
Her gaze moves from her father to her mother for any kind of hint or support. She finds disappointment in her mother and sympathy in her father. The women take her away, first into the kitchen.
It is plain and simple even more than the one in her house. Correction her parents' house. There is one small half empty table at the corner with a long shelf above. Pots, amphoras, kettles, cups and plates are neatly stacked one above the other and placed accordingly by size. The bigger amphoras and crates are set on the ground. The medium vessels are placed at the side of the table close to the wall and the rest on the shelf. The smaller the utensils the higher they are placed. In the middle there is a small round oven. Two huge crates at the other corner of the room and a low stool bellow the closed shuttered window.
She manages to control more than one eyeroll while they give her some kind of lesson about proper cooking and cleaning. It's always the same tips and advice most older women discuss about whenever they get the chance. Myrrine has taken her ears off far too many times about the same things. Before they wonder to the rest of the house, they give her some extra tips about cleaning and for a more ergonomic use of the space.
Just as she thinks the torment is over, they ask where is her shared bedroom with Brasidas. Her cheeks creep up with color, what they might guess is shyness, is actually , she is glad, this learning session reaches an end.
Meanwhile, as soon as the men are left alone, Brasidas apologizes in a low voice.
"It's hard for Kassandra, she can't stand this pretense."
Nikolaos glances at both men, who nod at him, before he speaks up. "When are you going to tell her? She doesn't seem well, Brasidas."
The younger man lowers his head rubbing his knuckles. His racing thoughts remind him of the situation without consuming his focus. Releasing a heavy sigh, he looks up again.
"She is not. To keep my promise, we have to wait a little more."
"How did you accord with my son's mad plan, Nikolaos?"
The Wolf gazes the other man straight in the eyes. "I had to. For my daughter. I didn't expect you to be aware."
"Brasidas informed me, after the voting when my hands were tied." Telis casts a stern glance towards his son before replying. "My anger and disappointment of his behavior, forced him to tell me."
"As I was forced to do all these for your family's safety." Brasidas notes reminding them the situation with a steady voice and a clear stare.
The women appear again and head to another room. While they are within earshot the conversation is being putted on ice. Nikolaos double checks before he speaks.
"For how long, son? You risk your head and we have no power to protect you even with our positions." He pauses. "You waste time, endanger your life and put distance between you and Kassandra. You should tell her and live as fates wish."
The Wolf has a point. Not even a General and a respected member of the Gerousia could put up with a king.
"I won't. Visit her often. She needs you."
After their parents leave, much later, Brasidas stays to clean.
"I don't need your help. I can clean by myself."
"I don't doubt it." He states. "Kassandra, can we talk for once..." He trails off giving her enough time to slam the cup she has been holding on the table and stare at him cutting him off.
"Did we talk before you recklessly kissed me and got us to this point?"
The only reaction to her accusation is a steady long stare. He takes his time to respond making her believe he finally understands what he has caused.
"Men make mistakes when blinded by emotions."He mutters looking away.
Emotions he claims. How dares he? What emotions she wants to scream at his face, but she holds back. He didn't even know her, besides name and face. It couldn't be love, or hate, or jealousy, could it? Could Brasidas have a grudge against… against who? Pausanias? Even in this case, he had no right to make her pay for their differences. Her blood boils in her veins. Because of him, she will be in a loveless relationship for the rest of her days. Because of his hate, or jealousy. Because of his arrogance and selfishness.
"A mistake, that's exactly what this marriage is and you trapped me in it."
Brasidas sighs taking a few steps closer. "I never meant to hurt you. We can leave the past behind and try to forge our future together."
Her eyebrows furrow, scoffing to control her rage, she raises her chin in front of him.
"I won't betray my love."
"Just let us interact friendly." Her refusal to respond makes him add. "I'm only trying to keep my promise." He says and resumes cleaning the table.
"What are you talking about?" She questions with a grimace.
He doesn't answer. He takes the cups to the kitchen and places them to the small shelf after he washes them. She huffs in irritation following him with her gaze. She refuses to let him have the upper hand and walks up to him. She doesn't open her mouth, just crosses her arms over her chest with a cold glare. It's apparent that she demands a response. He turns around and faces her, meeting her gaze.
They stand in silence one across the other for a while. The longer he is quiet, the more he irritates her. Kassandra's full lips now form a thin line while her face flushes red. Brasidas observes her considering his next words. Her suffering breaks his heart. It's harder than he expected, but he is determined to follow the plan.
"I meant what I vowed." He declares before rushing out of the kitchen leaving the house without another word.
Kassandra is finally left alone to think. To comprehend this new reality. This new life ahead of her. She collapses on a chair, hot tears streaming down her cheeks, as the enormity of her situation crashes over her like a tidal wave. These walls around her areher cage. Brasidas -her torturer - is considered her husband in everyone's eyes and there is no way out. This is going to be her life. She is considered a bride, his wife, responsible for the household and with duties to Brasidas. The idea makes her stomach turn. Whatever forged his actions the night before should never change. She refuses to believe he has a decent character, thus she can only hope for his actions in the future.
Sitting in the same chair for hours makes her body numb. Her energy is drained, every ounce of joy is lost. Tired of thinking and speculating about Brasidas and her future, she leans with her elbows against the table. Lets out a loud groan, face buried in her arms. It shouldn't matter anymore, nothing really changes the past. Although, a good estimation may help smoothen her present condition and future life. Kassandra has never been good at planning or organizing and she has reached a point where it's crucial to do so. She ponders for a moment longer, what to do. She stands up, her face lowered, hands hang loosely almost lifeless. Her feet take her to her new bedroom. Collapsing on the bed face down, she grabs the furs as if holding for dear life and releases hot tears. She spends the rest of the day sitting on her bed, crying, thinking, falling asleep, waking and right from the start.
She hears him visiting sometime when the sky is dark outside. He doesn't bother her. He passes some time in the next room and then leaves. Good, she thinks at first, but as the night gets darker and the howls of the wolves echo louder, it downs on her, she has never before been alone. The night has so many sounds that each time one echoes nearer, her heart almost jumps out of her chest. Sleeping in an empty house or with Brasidas in the next room is like being between Skylla and Charybdis. She gathers she's never going to feel safe again.
The next morning is quiet. The house is empty with no doubt. Brasidas has slept in the barracks as it's expected of him. Admittedly, the distance is convenient for her for as long as it will last, though it's not a permanent solution. Right now, she is unable to imagine the future. She isn't ready to face the harsh truth, adapting is already painful. She watches the paint on the wall behind the table, with a blank mind when she hears a knock on the door.
A loud familiar voice follows, calling her name and she responds shaking out of her daze. The door cracks open and her father's figure appears, tall and strong.
"Sweetheart, how are you? Does your husband treat you well?" Nikolaos asks embracing her.
He places a soft kiss on her temple as she melts into a lingering embrace. Big pleading eyes turn on him when she pulls back. She inhales raggedly struggling to speak. Closing her eyes she shakes her head and sighs to gain control.
"I don't know, dad. I want to leave."
His forehead furrows with growing concern and he searches her gaze. "Did he do something?"
"No. I did. I hit him and tried to stab him and... he did nothing." She confesses with some hints of regret and shame. "Still, I want to leave." She finishes, her voice small.
Her gaze is downcast and she avoids holding her father's gaze for long. She is aware she is being unfair, her demand irrational, considering Brasidas's behavior these few days has been nothing but fair. And yet, here she is in denial about her fate, seeking a freedom that she never actually possessed. Her father is looking agape with an angry face.
"Kassandra. You shouldn't have. Brasidas is your husband, now. Give him a chance, have you?"
"You don't understand, he isn't."
Nikolaos controls his reaction and gently comes closer. His daughter may be a little more innocent than many other girls her age, but certainly after her wedding she should know better. The women must have explained everything she might not have known before as well as what is considered a valid union.
With a calm voice he reminds her the fact she refuses to accept. "Kassandra whether you like it or not your marriage is legal."
"It isn't. He didn't touch me. He cut his hand to stain my bed with blood. Then cut my hair and left. I'm still a Kore."
The Wolf's eyes go wide. A shadow passes through them. He has been unfair. His suspicion about her secret relationship isn't valid. He judged and refused to believe his own daughter. She is a maiden, although, at this point he isn't happy to hear it.
"Shh. No one must know. You will be in danger. Who do you prefer? Brasidas that respects you or Pausanias?"
"Neither."
"Sweetheart. He acts kindly towards you."
"How can you justify his actions, dad? After what he did, you should be the first to open his head."
"He isn't as bad as you think him to be, honestly, and I did want to hit him many times... I have if that confession makes you any happier." He sighs brushing his palm over his beard and places a hand on her shoulder. "I hate seeing you sad, my lamb. Talk to him."
"And tell him what?"
"Just try to talk to him."
Left in silence again, she wanders the room aimlessly, her mind clouded with thoughts of Hyakinthus. Who is he? Why hasn't he revealed himself? Why did he vanish like that after so many promises? And now, married to Brasidas, she feels trapped by the unknown.
The walls are suffocating her. She opens the door and rushes outside, sits down on the stone bench in the courtyard, looking out at the small almost barren garden. The sun is high in the sky, casting long shadows, but Kassandra feels no warmth, only the cool breeze against her face.
Her thoughts are interrupted by the sound of voices. Alkmene and Philothea have arrived, their bright laughter echoing through the courtyard. Kassandra's heart lifts a little at the sight of them.
Alkmene's long raven hair wave in the wind as she walks closer. "Kassie! How does it feel to be a married woman?" She finishes, her usual teasing grin in place.
Kassandra forces a smile as she rises to greet them. "Awful as expected."
Philothea, ever perceptive, notices the tension in her friend's voice. "Is everything all right, sweetie?" She asks, her brow furrowing with concern.
Kassandra hesitates. She doesn't know how to explain the turmoil in her heart. "It's... complicated." She finally says. "Brasidas has been fair, but I can't be with him."
Alkmene exchanges a glance with Philothea before stepping closer to Kassandra. "It's only been a few days, Kassie. You're still adjusting. Give it time."
"I doubt time will help." Kassandra mutters, sitting back down. "I don't even know him. And... and I can't stop thinking about Hyakinthus anyway."
Philothea sits down beside her, placing a comforting hand on Kassandra's arm. "The soldier?" she asks gently.
Kassandra nods, tears welling up in her eyes. "I still love him. I waited for him... but he never came. And now... I'm here."
"Whoever he was, he's gone now, Kassie. You have a chance to build a life with Brasidas. You should give him a chance." Alkmene's voice echoes more serious than usual. She sighs. "What has Brasidas personally done to you, that you refuse to do even that? Give him one chance."
Kassandra wipes away a tear, shrugging silently. "He just destroyed my dreams, I guess. Unknowingly."
"You said it." The dark-haired girl retorts with a grin and a playful wink, giving her friend a hug.
Notes:
This chapter is smaller compared to what I usually upload, because again I actually separated one huge chapter in two smaller ones. So, it seems that the next won't take long.
Brasidas is taking it slow, right? Many of you hate me for it, I know. But, there are so many wonderful things coming, I can't ruin them by rushing it!
I have no energy to write anything else (I just finished a chapter for my other fic Life of a legend), but I want to thank you all for reading!
So, thank you for you love and support! You are all awesome! Have a great day!
