Phobia ☤ Alexios

three: a songbird's cage

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"ATTIKA!" THE SHIP captain announces three days after they depart from the Port of Miletus. Piraeus rises from the sea in greeting with Athens in the background. Zephyr pays for their passage across the Aegean and leads Irene from the docks.

The civilians point them toward the leader's villa in the southern half of the city. Irene looks to the acropolis, ruins sit upon the hill but one of the columns falls. Its impact shakes the earth. Zephyr takes her hand, pulling her back to the task at hand. A pair of sentinels keep vigilance outside the entrance. They both step forward as Zephyr and Irene approach. "We must speak with Perikles."

Athens' leader comes forward, hands clasped in front of him. At first, Zephyr's request for an audience is denied, but upon seeing the unbroken seal of Hydarnes on a scroll the statesman quickly reconsiders. Perikles invites both of them into the villa, escorts them up to his private solar and away from prying ears.

Zephyr hands the scroll to the statesman and waits while he reads over the message. "This is grave news," Perikles announces –sticking one end of the parchment into a burning candle then dropping it into a krater to continue burning. He motions for the young Persian man to come closer. Irene sits quietly, listening intently.

The door opens, and a woman with dark hair, clothed in a fine blue peplos enters. She walks over to the Athenian, rests one of her hands on his shoulder. "Aspasia," Perikles greets with a warm smile, extending his arm from her to their guests. "This is the son of Princess Amytis and the daughter of Hydarnes. They have come seeking sanctuary."

"Welcome," she replies with a smile –gaze lingering on Irene. Discussions resume promptly and proceed into the late afternoon. Perikles and Zephyr have come to terms -they will be allowed to stay in Athens.

"While I cannot give you my absolute word, I can give you opportunity," Perikles notes. The young man has already proved himself to be an efficacious and taciturn speaker –two qualities present in most politicians. Aspasia leans toward her partner, whispers something in his ear causing him to nod in agreement. "Come to the symposium on the morrow. For now, Megara will see you to a villa."

On cue, a young woman enters the room. Zephyr rises and bows his head in gratitude. "We are in your debt, Perikles," he says, motioning Irene over to him. The statesman gives a reserved smile, but the dark glint in Aspasia's eyes do not sit well with him. Given the opportunity, Zephyr excels in politics and philosophy and though young, Irene watches and learns.

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FOR THE ENTITY of their evening meal, he has been staring at a scroll –its seal already broken. Zephyr doesn't know how to tell Irene what the scroll says. People say he has a silvertongue, but now it has turned to lead. "Hydarnes is dead," he says –regretting the lack of empathy in the words. "Slain by the Order of Ancients." He spares her from the details. The princess is still young and does not need to know the tortures her protector endured.

"What?" Irene asks, dropping an apricot to the floor. She doesn't think she heard him right. Hydarnes couldn't be dead. He was one of the best warriors in Persia. Everyone respected him –even the likes of Perikles. She thinks back to the night when everything changed, the old general had been adamant about seeing her flee Ephesus and refused to follow. The princess starts to shake, tears gather in her eyes. "Did he die because of me?"

"No!" Zephyr says quickly, gripping onto her shoulders. "The Order of Ancients did this, Irene. Not you." He draws in a slow, deep breath and glances down at his hands. He isn't meant to be the one to tell her, but there is no one else in Greece who knows the truth. "I suppose it's time you know." Irene looks at him as if he has grown a second head. She knows her truth -as the daughter of Hydarnes. "You are a Princess of Persia," Zephyr tells her. "Amytis was your mother and mine."