With You I Will Stay

ASTREA

When Astrea first saw the princess Kassandra, she almost took her for the goddess Aphrodite incarnate. That had been when she was ten, still a gangly, flat-chested young thing, too young to know that her attraction toward the young princess was considered unnatural. Back then, despite being eleven, the princess had looked like a young woman. And her beauty had only grown in the years since. The princess's body had grown and matured from that tender age. The princess had wavy hair, the color of the coffee her father used to drink when she was younger when the sunlight caught it. Her hair was long, much longer than Astrea's own hair which was kept cropped short, twisted and braided into an elaborately decorated hairstyle to attest to her status. Her skin was a color akin to the chestnuts that were a coveted prize in the colder winter months, kept soft and smooth with expensive oils. And her eyes, oh her eyes, big and round, and a deep, beautiful brown. Her lashes were thick and long, dark as night, and her face was smooth, a slight flush in her cheeks. She seemed to glow in the afternoon light. Her clothing, a beautiful blush pink peplos accompanied by a dark blue himation, was gilded in delicate gold and polished bronze.

She'd heard the rumors of the princess being born of Aphrodite and blessed by Rhea and she could see where they came from with the rumors. Of course, she knew better, having served under the King for so long. She knew that the princess was born of a mortal woman and that the only godborn in the kingdom's line was the youngest son, Athenaeus, but the princess's otherworldly beauty certainly did not help to quiet the rumors. Astrea scolded herself for thinking such thoughts. She was sixteen, much too old to be pining over girls she clearly could not have. The princess would likely never even notice her. Astrea was thought to be a young guard-boy, the likes of whom the princess was never allowed to come into contact with. And the princess was, well, a princess. Nearly the highest title a lady was capable of receiving in that day and age, other than queen. It was likely that Kassandra would be sent off to marry some pompous prince as a political bargaining chip, as had happened to all her older sisters.

However, on the odd chance encounters that she would have with the princess whilst walking through the halls, when their eyes would meet, even for a brief moment, Astrea could see an inexplicable want in the princess's eyes, a need for freedom so large it dwarfed all other principles the princess attempted to practice. She had often caught the princess reading scrolls and books about different countries, where women were allowed to do much more, where she could be free, and legends about women who transcended their femininity and became something great. She knew what the princess felt. She, too, had felt such a longing to be able to be free from the chains that bound a woman's wings and kept them from being all they had the potential to be. Her father had been a radicalist in his own way, allowing her to dress as she wished and wrestle with her brothers and train alongside them, but she understood that the world outside of her father's home wasn't so kind. While her brothers and father respected her and listened to her opinions and thoughts, the men of the outside world would laugh in her face scornfully were she to act anything other than meek and submissive. For her father's part, he had been the one to suggest her joining the guard. She looked like a boy enough and there was chest binding in the future. Her brothers had been her instructors, teaching her how to behave more like a boy. She was sure that if her dear mother had been alive, the poor woman would have died from the shock of seeing her only daughter suited up in boys' clothes and sent off to join the King's army.

But, here she was, six years later and still no less ladylike than she had been at age ten. She was quite content with this arrangement. She got to see the princess, who she would admit that she was more attracted to than she should be, and be free. None suspected that she was not simply another guard-boy, vying for a spot as captain of the guard.

This particular day, she had been walking through the hallway, minding her own business. She'd been off-duty in that particular moment, her helm removed to reveal her face to the warm afternoon sun. Where she would normally move about barefoot, she wore her sandals, having just come from her post. At some point along her walk, she caught the scent of winey pomegranate and herbal lavender, with an undertone of earthy yet sweet frankincense and floral rose. It came from somewhere behind her, though she failed to sense any urgency to turn around and locate the source of the alluring scent. It was the direct opposite of Astrea's own sweat-thick sandalwood and bergamot, an underlying sweet orange still present from her years living near orange groves, masculine to its core despite her never quite completely filling in the role of a male that she was to be playing.

When she finally gained enough common sense in her brain to turn around, she was face to face with the princess. Up close, she could tell that the scent came from the girl herself, a mixture of the oils used on her skin and the oils used in her hair. Astrea's words escaped her at the mere proximity of the beautiful princess, though they seemed not to escape the princess herself.

"Who are you? You're certainly not a boy, not with that face, so what are you doing in a soldier's armor?" the princess asked coolly.