5000 More

Corinth 258BC

On a hill overlooking the city, the white marble is cold on her feet as Cleopatra rises from her bed. The spot beside her is empty, and looking at the old sun glaring at her from the bright sky means it's about 11 in the morning.

She looks longingly on the spot beside her, her husband-brother is out training the troops in the square. His strong, muscular body gleaming in the sunlight, a sight she never gets tired of.

 She runs her hand over the indentations his body left in the soft pillow and can smell the faint scent of his sweat mixed with sandalwood. Her hand trails down her flat stomach and she sighs heavily, feeling the emptiness within her.

She has been trying to get pregnant for a while now, but she has been unlucky, although she always prays to Hera. After all if Hera married her brother and had kids maybe she could have some too?

Cleopatra, the princess of Macedon, wraps herself in a soft, lightweight chiton that flows gracefully around her figure as she steps out of the cool shade of her chamber. The warmth of the sun kisses her skin as she descends the grand stairs, her sandals echoing in the vast emptiness of the corridor. 

The palace is eerily quiet, most of the servants and guards are busy with their own duties, leaving her to her thoughts.

She used to live in Pella, but like most of the women in the Royal House, she fled to Corinth when the King told them to. Her husband-brother Prince Damasos went with her to train the soldiers. 

The palace of Corinth is vast, with its grand architecture whispering of past glory. It is a stark contrast to the warm, intimate home she knew in Pella. Here, the walls seem to stretch on forever, painted with scenes of battles and triumphs that feel so distant from her current life. 

Cleopatra walks through the corridors, her thoughts lingering on the quiet whispers of hope that have been her constant companions for the past few months.

She has been having dreams for the past few days, either it's delirium or… there's no way it's delirium, it's a sign from Hera. And in her dream Hera told her, as long as she stayed in Corinth for the rest of her life, and that seemed easy enough.

Cleopatra makes her way to the grand courtyard, her eyes drawn to the distant figure of Damasos, his sword flashing in the sun as he parries and thrusts with the soldiers. 

His dedication to their people is admirable, and it fills her with a sense of pride that she shares his name, his lineage. The sound of clashing metal reaches her ears, punctuating the silence of the palace, and she wonders if he's ever felt the same way about her.

She rolls her eyes, what can she do for these people? She's just a Princess, and they have been doing whatever for the past few years. Ever since her father King Antigonos II died in battle she has been out of work.

She slumps on the wall, her heart beating wildly. She has been feeling powerless these past few years. All of Greece is in chaos, and she's lucky she married her brother, because if she's stuck waiting for a foreign Prince she'd be out of luck.

Epirus is having their own problems, and Rome is wiping the floor with them. She's pretty sure they devolved into fighting tribes again, King Pyrrhus who was briefly King of Macedonia basically tied the place together.

But she has more immediate concerns, like her brother's lack of attention to her, her unexplained weight gain, and the whispers that have been following her.

Her handmaiden, Eris, appears around the corner, her eyes wide with excitement. "Your Royal Highness, your brother sent for you!" she says, her voice quivering with urgency.

Cleopatra's heart skips a beat. What does he want? She quickly straightens her posture and heads towards the training square, her stomach in knots.

Damasos notices her approach and waves his hand, signaling for the soldiers to take a break. He wipes the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, his eyes locking onto hers. 

"Cleopatra," he calls out, his voice carrying over the din of the square. The soldiers part like the Red Sea, revealing the path to her husband. Her sandals whisper against the stone as she approaches him, the sun casting shadows across her face. 

"Brother," she says, her voice a mix of affection and trepidation.

"I've been meaning to speak with you," he says, his tone serious. "The city of Corinth, it's... different from Pella. It's a strategic stronghold, yes, but it's also a place of beauty and history. We can't afford to give it up."

"But I'm not sure on what to do. 2 years ago when Larissa was sacked by the Romans, I was forced to flee, I-"

"I know, I was there." 

"Mhm, and I had to flee, I let all those people die, I don't know what's going on, is this, the end? Even the City of Achilles can't be saved from the Romans, it is over for us, the Black Shield has fallen."

"Shh." Cleopatra looked to the left and to the right, before looking straight back at him, his black hair and brown eyes staring back at her.

"You don't know that Damasos, your twin Euenios, is in Iberia right now, and he sent a letter, the colony is doing well. He will return soon to avenge us. Don't worry…" Cleopatra stops herself before looking away.

To be honest she hasn't seen Euenios for 10 years… Damasos is more of an unsavory character to say the least.

"Look, what will it take you to stop acting like this?" She rubs her forehead.

"Hehe, you know I like teasing you Cleo." Damasos puts an arm around her shoulder, snickering a little. 

"You miss him that much?"

"I only like you because you look like him." Cleopatra turns away from him.

"Well, the Romans are coming, cherish these few years." 

…

..

Cleopatra stomps her feet a little as she walks out of the Palace with her entourage. The city of Corinth is bustling with life, merchants shouting their wares, children playing in the streets, and the smell of roasting meat wafting through the air.

Cleopatra takes a deep breath of the fresh, salty sea breeze that filters through the city walls as she walks along the cobblestone streets. Her entourage, a mix of handmaidens and guards, follow at a respectful distance, allowing her a moment of solitude amidst the chaos.

She raises her nose to smell the air up on the hill that overlooks the city. Oh, of course she's not going to actually walk amongst those normal people, just up this hilly complex overlooking them.

Those poor people. They don't know what's good for them. Just last week Damasos found a bunch of conspirators talking about the 'City State' of Corinth, or musings of independence.

In reality the only way for Greece to ever stand up against the Romans is to be united… under Macedonian rule that is. We can't really expect these rambling peoples of little city states to stand up and do anything more than fight each other.

Cleopatra has visited Italy before, when she was 12, she visited Syracuse… That was when Pyrrhus was still around. 

She slowly exhales as she looks down at the people, doing as they like down over there. Her sandals are not made for hiking, they are made for royalty, for grace, for elegance, but she marches through the overgrowth, her handmaidens following behind her, their eyes wide and alert to any danger.

The hill is steep but the path is well worn, because of the many times she has made this trek to escape the confines of the palace. Her heart races as she reaches the summit, the wind playing with her hair like a gentle lover's caress. 

The view before her is breathtaking, the city sprawling out like a giant, living breathing city of white marble and terracotta rooftops. The City has been around for 5,700 years. The city will be around for 5,000 more.