Chapter I: Room with a view

Sparta had never looked so beautiful under the moonlight.

She peered through her window, admiring the view. It was funny though, the city was known for anything but beauty. She couldn't remember the last time it had looked so beautiful. But since the wars ended, it did. Tears formed in her pale amber eyes, remembering her father's sacrifice in the wars. Their victory could best be described as a Pyrrhic one, the king and a lot of their valiant soldiers had lost their lives. She wiped the tears off her face, Spartans don't cry, talk more of the Royals!

Father wouldn't be pleased, she thought. She sat back in the chair, still admiring the view. She heard a knock on the door.

"Come in!" She said in her nightingale like voice. Father never liked the way she spoke, she sounded like the Athenians who actually appreciated the arts and beauty. The door opened, revealing a petite girl dressed in a long grey gown. Unlike the other maids, Martha was young and vibrant. Her bright blue eyes sparkled each time she spoke. She was neither tall nor short, just average heighted. She always had her medium length blond hair in pigtails, always making sure they bounced each time she walked.

"Good evening Princess Charissa," she chirped. The princess, who was still seated, cleared her throat, trying to make her voice deeper. "Yes Martha, how can I help you?"

She frowned to herself, she still sounded like the accursed bird. Martha didn't seem to notice her displeasure and still continued her blabbing, "The elders want to see you Princess."

She lifted her head once more, revealing her pair of ocean grey eyes. She stared at the bubbly maid, who was finding it hard to stand on a spot. She remembered the wars, girls like Martha were taken away as slaves on a daily basis. "I knew this day would come," she said, "It's not surprising that they want to see me."

"Why do they want to see you Princess?"

"Hush, Martha. Come now, let's go."

She stood up from the chair, straightening her crimson gown. Father had gotten it from Rome in one of his conquests. Unlike most princesses, she didn't have a large variety of dresses, there was no point in it. She was Spartan, after all. She walked out of the room, Martha still following.

****

The elders were seated in the throne room when she arrived there. But they weren't the only ones there, she saw twelve other faces. She recognised four, she had met two personally, had seen one in paintings, and had heard about one. She lightly blushed when she saw the man with the blond hair and green eyes. She had met him once when Father was still alive. She definitely couldn't forget the face of Prince Alexander, although they last met when they were children. She gulped when she saw the person next to him. He was the one she had heard off, but she didn't need anyone to tell her who he was. His cold glare made her instantly recognise him. It was Prince Silvanus, known for his terrible temper. He was the most handsome of the batch, and the most ruthless. His icy platinum hair and grya eyes made him stand out. She didn't bother remembering the last two men, they were irrelevant.

"Good evening Princess Charissa, do take a seat."

"I'd rather stand Elder Alphonse," she hissed. She didn't bother trying to make her voice deeper, it was always filled with spite whenever she heard his voice or talked to him.

Alphonse, the elder with the Gray hair and black eyes, laughed. Although all the elders had grey eyes, it was hard to not notice him.

She didn't care for his face, he was a snake.

"Why did you send for me?"

"As you know Charissa,next week marks the anniversary of your father's death."

"Sorrows, prayers. But what does that have to do with me?" She stared squarely at him.

The elder chuckled revealing his white teeth. "You also turn eighteen next week."

"I'm quite surprised you remembered my birthday, elder. It truly is an honour," she said sarcastically, " Stop beating around the bush, what do you want from me?"

"Sparta needs a ruler. Since the last king didn't have a son, the next ruler has to be your husband."

"But I am not yet married elder! I thought we had an agreement that I would choose my husband!"

"It has been a year Charissa!" He said, hitting his fist on the armrest, "But you've failed to find one! Since you've decides to abandon your responsibilities, I took it upon myself to find you a husband."

"The last time I checked elder, I'm the one getting married, not you! At least let me choose him!"

"You've wasted more than enough time Charissa! Mind you, there is a limit to my patience."

She folded her arms against her chest, her lips pulled into a frown. She stared at the men in the room. "What am I supposed to do, pick one?"

"Why no princess!" He laughed, "You're a Spartan, although it seems you tend to forget that. They will have to prove they are man enough to be your husband. No weakling will rule the nation."

"It always comes down to what's best for Sparta, doesn't it?"

"Yes indeed! The tournament begins tomorrow by midday."

Trying to control her conflicting emotions, she pressed her nails to her skin. She winced, knowing her nails had wounded her skin. Ignoring the pain, she said, "Sounds good enough. If that's all, I'll be on my way. Come now, Martha, let's go."

She swayed out the throne room, Martha gingerly walking behind her. Once they stepped into the room, her knees gave way. Charissa slumped to the floor, her knees aching. Her legs felt weak and shaky, she hadn't stood for so long. She wanted to prove she was a true Spartan showing no weakness but behind closed doors she was well, weak.