Assassin's Creed Drabbles

↳ a truce

brasidas thinks it's an interesting thing for a woman to be so invested in the realm of men. rated 18+ for smut. 

THE DUSKY AIR is heavy with the scent of incense and wine. Talk of war permeates the silence —a meeting among generals of Athens and Sparta. Discussion had been civil since the meeting began, but after the mention of a treaty in favor of the Athenian forces it quickly turned into raised voices and red faces. Among those is your betrothed, an esteemed general for Athens with a hateful streak wider than the Boeotian lake. Only one manages to keep a calm demeanor about him —Brasidas of Sparta.

War and politics are considered a man's affair, but it does not stop you from lingering in the shadows and listening. You pass unseen by all but one in the gathering. Brasidas has barely taken his dark and intense eyes off of you since he first noticed you standing near a curtain dividing the war room from the villa courtyard. The Spartan General is handsome, especially in comparison to you promised —who already has silver hair and sagging jowls. A fifth wife for the old general as his others had died by spring fever or on the birthing bed. Brasidas though, there is not a silver hair to be found on his head or in his thick brown beard.

Brasidas speaks with passion and urges for diplomacy when it is his time to speak —uncharacteristic for a Spartan. The gathering looks amongst themselves, weighing what had been discussed, but time is needed before any decisions are made and any papers are signed. A recess is called, and you slip from the room and back up the stairs onto a balcony overlooking the dark Aegean Sea. It would not have boded well for you to be seen eavesdropping.

A rush of air as the curtain of the balcony is drawn alerts you to the presence of another. Turning you are met by the kind and warm —if not curious— gaze of Brasidas. He had sought you out, curious to know more about the hostess of the meeting. "Does political talk not bore you, my lady?" Brasidas asks, even the women of Sparta grow weary of talk after the first hour passes.

"No," you respond, shifting your attention back to sea, "my father was a lieutenant. I grew up listening to the affairs of men." As his only child, your father had done well to raise you as an equal —he had little choice after your mother died before you could even walk. You spent many nights crawling over his vessel and clinging to his leg during meetings.

The general smiles. It is a rare thing to find a woman so acclimated to the discussion of war. Brasidas knows you heard all of what transpired in the first half of the meeting —you had been in the dark shadow of the room since it began. "And what do you think of the proposition made?" He inquires. Athens sought to rob Sparta of Skioni —a small island polis south of Makedonia and a valuable outpost for the Lakedaemonians.

"Athens is trying to cheat Sparta," you reply, it is not hard to see. The Athenians wanted to push the Spartans back and rid their growing sphere of influence of any Spartiate presence. After hearing Menexinos speak, you had not expected the Spartan generals to succumb so easily to a poorly worded and unenforceable truce. Brasidas steps up to your side, hands curling around the stone railing.

You steal a glance at the general in the dying light of day —the setting sun bathes him in a golden light. "Do you not have a wife, Brasidas of Sparta?" You ask, surprised by your boldness, but for what other reason would he seek you out.

"I do not," he answers. The time for marriage was drawing nigh, but with the war, it was difficult to remain in Sparta for more than a day at a time when there were battles to fight and men to command. "And you do not yet have a husband," he observes as you still wear a maiden's veil covering your hair.

His statement brings a wave of despair crashing over you like the waves on the rocks below. You have wished for Hades to claim your promised, even if it is wrong to do so. Hades has not answered nor has Hera. "Not yet," you breathe, but that dreaded day draws sooner with each setting sun. The general feels a pang of misery rise in his chest for ever having brought the topic up. Brasidas turns to face you, his arms trapping you between him and the balcony railing, a gentle cage that you can break free of should you wish.