Short Stories

A God With His Rose

*Warning, slightly sexual with mentions of rape and blood* Also it's a little longer than the other ones :D

The sun is hot on my face, the cool breeze a release from the unforgiving heat. I breathe in deeply, stretching my body before settling back into the softness of my sun chair. Opening my eyes, I take a single grape from the platter of fruit I was brought. Barely chewing it, I swallow. The breeze fades, and my tunic once again starts to stick to my skin. Although it is lovely basking in the sunlight of Greece, I grow tired from the coming and going coolness, never staying long enough to keep me restful. 

Looking around the courtyard, I scan every bush and plant in sight from sheer boredom. The pale white columns have green vines creeping up them. My daze ends with the familiar sound of crashing waves in the distance. An idea lights up in my mind. An afternoon swim would cool me off. Heading down the stairs, the slapping of my sandals against the hard stone follows me. I spot my slave girl waiting in a corner for me.

" Damara," I say, catching her attention, " get a towel for me."

Damara nods, quickly disappearing inside the palace. Even though I'm wearing sandals, the grains of sand that slip in between the leather burns my skin. Walking along the beach, blue waves become more clear. The splashing against the sand, then receding, finally leaving behind white foam lines.

I don't wait for Damara to meet me at the beach. I shrug off my tunic and race into the waves. Water slaps against my thighs, and I dive into the salty sea. The coolness is refreshing and familiar, touching the sand with the pads of my feet. The gentle waves against my red skin is a wash of relief. But eventually, I decide to start walking towards land.

Damara:

I watch him walk in from the sea. Bare, dripping water. My eyes go over every sharp muscle. I feel myself holding in my breath. His raven hair sticks to the sides of his face, grey dashing eyes smiling in the sun. A prince so charming and handsome, he could trick Odysseus. Prince Pantelis. His name goes through my mind. 

" Damara, hand me my towel." He instructs, approaching me.

" Of course, my lord." I reply, handing him the towel. 

He rubs it on his hair and along his arms. I try not to look. At the streaks of water disappearing, or his perfect, carved body.

" Collect my tunic as well, it's over near those rocks. Then bring it to the palace to be washed, I shall get a clean one."

As Prince Pantelis walks past me, I smell the sea on his skin. Seaweed and salty waves. It makes me shiver. But I can't get distracted. He is a prince, and I am a slave.

Pantelis:

Walking through the courtyard I have a towel around myself. I go up the staircase and through the halls to my bedroom quarters. Going through my closet, I find a light blue tunic with gold threading. It's a little fancy, but I pull it over my head anyways. I pick my lyre from the desk in the corner. My mother taught me how to play. And when my skill went beyond even hers, I began private lessons. Now not even those can teach me. 

Lightly plucking the strings, notes and rhythm flow out of me. I begin softly, letting my fingers brush the strings. And then start singing along to my notes, and to the songs my mother sang to me when I was an infant, attached to her hip. I miss her dearly.

Damara:

I hear the songs from the courtyard before even entering the palace. Pantelis and his lyre. I drift up the stairs towards his closed door. Leaning against it, I smile despite myself. Pantelis' voice is of sweet honey and fruit.