Markus
It was noon when Markus came out of his room, walking stiffly from the burning deep in his thighs after days-worth of crouching.
He went first to the small, separate house outside the palace where the food was prepared. Inside was an older woman, one of his Father’s very few remaining aunts, and after he explained the soreness in his legs, she put together an herbal drink that helped ease the strain in his legs to something more bearable before she returned to the large pot she had been leaning over. As he was leaving, an aunt of his came in and he watched as she dipped her hands into the pots boiling water to take a drink before the two started murmuring over it.
Markus went back to the palace then and carried his drink to the balcony outside the throne room. There he sat to slowly sip at his tea as he gazed out at the view.
The palace sat atop a sizable hill - one of the tallest in their kingdom - at the heart of Juno, the capital of their kingdom, and from it you could see the whole valley where most of their kingdom lived. A sea of buildings on rolling emerald hills, clear blue skies above, the air sweet with ocean mist from azure blue waters not so terribly far away. Markus enjoyed his spot here, tracing the various dips and rises in the land, watching the movement of the people without having to interact with others.
There had been a tower here before Julius was king that had been built specifically for the view, where Kings often surveyed their kingdom. It had been demolished by Helen for reasons unknown to Markus.
When Markus was king, he thought he would build another tower to replace it so he could look out at their kingdom without being disturbed.
It was so peaceful.
He was shortly joined by his mother, dressed in her long white robes and glistening with shimmery gold ribbons and jewelry, her long dark brown hair done up on her head in intricate braids. Alexandros was next to her, blurry-eyed and yawning. The brothers exchanged acknowledging glances before the Queen turned to address her eldest son.
“Welcome home, Markus.” She said, demure as ever, a small smile on her lips as she held a hand to her chest and inclined her head to him.
Markus ran his hand down his tunic to smooth the wrinkles before he took a sip of his drink, inclining his head toward her politely.
She came to sit next to him on the bench there behind him, smiling contently out at the sights as she scanned her kingdom, greeting it with a friendly ‘good morning, dear home’ before she looked back to Markus, her smile growing to something more fond as she traced his golden mask with her gaze. “I trust you were successful in your endeavors?” He inclined his head again and she nodded.
He waited for his mother to say what she had come to say – she was not one for idle chit chat. The queen was the busiest person in all the kingdom by far and did not have that leisure. She had a purpose and always saw to serve it before going off to do the next item on her agenda.
“Alexandros informed me about a conversation had in the baths last night.” She said in her easy but firm way. Markus’s gaze slid to where his brother was staring pointedly at the rings hanging from his neck, eyeing the one that symbolized his eldest daughter. So much for a discussion only for men. “Don’t let your father pressure you into anything you don’t want to do.” The queen said to him then, taking Markus off guard. He looked to her and her concerned gaze. “You must not do it if you are not ready – that wouldn't serve anyone any good, Markus. A man who is forced to do something before he is ready is not one that will be grateful for the experience. When you are ready, it will be time.”
Markus’s lip twitched, as if it wanted to smile but aborted at the last second. “Thank you, Mother.”
She nodded a little before she turned her attention to Alexandros as she rose from the seat, patting Markus gently on the shoulder as she stepped away from him. “You, on the other hand, need to be more productive.” The second son curled his lip in a pout, stating crabbily that he already had a handful of daughters. “But what else have you done? Markus is breaking his back on campaigns and you have done nothing to prove yourself.” She chided. “Do you not wish for a soul, your place in the stars?”
“Of course.” Alexandros whined, “But I do things here- it’s not all about the hunt, mother. Someone must work to entertain the senate, the populace!” He reasoned. “I organize things. I plot. That’s a lot harder than running about the countryside, stabbing things.” He said in a tense tone. "My job actually involves thought and care."
"Oh, Alexandros." Their mother sighed, "Both jobs are vital to being a great leader. You can not depend on your wit to protect you. One day, you will have to get your hands dirty." She clicked her tongue and went back inside, Alexandros on her heels just as he always was, ever their mother’s shadow.
Markus thinks that why his brother was so smart - he had the benefit of watching their mother and learning from her, which Markus wished to do. Though their father sat on the throne, it was their mother who pulled all the strings, managed his aunts, made sure everything ran smoothly. Markus yearned to learn from her and be closer to her, but was forced to instead fulfill his duty.
One day he hoped he could be at her side-
TAPTAPTAPTAP
But if he spent too much time thinking about his mother-
TAPTAPTAPTAP
Markus shuttered and forced on calming himself, turning to look back out at the view.
He was left alone then for several peaceful moments to sip at his drink, feeling the tension slip from his muscles and ease his mind. There was a serenity here, alone on the balcony.
Until the last few years, he never had the leisure of being alone and had never imagined he could find such wonderful peace in silence. Up until recently, he had been devoted to training, to slaying, to the hunt. At first, he had been kept close to Julius, and then after his passing Markus had never been without an aunt, not really. But now it seemed the aunts had better things to do and he was left more and more to his own devices. More often than not, Markus liked to find somewhere to enjoy the silence.
This particular silence, however, was not long lasting.
It never was.
Shrieking flooded in from the throne room and Markus flinched, tensing up in preparation for the onslaught. He threw back the rest of his drink before setting the cup onto the railing, collecting himself before he stood from his bench to turn and see a mass of prancing little girls rushing toward him. He stepped back to press his back against the railing and shuddered as the room full of tiny predators came at him fast.
In two second's time he was surrounded by the faces of his many sisters, all eager to greet him, get a hold of him, tell him what had been going on at the palace and with their mothers since he had last been home. Markus half listened, battling the hands that pulled on his tunic, his limbs, tugging him back and forth to get his attention. There were so many of them, and they were always, always together in a mass of screams and giggles. At the center of the herd, you could always find his father beaming like a fool.
Sure enough, his Father breezed out onto the balcony then carrying two smaller ones, that special grin on his face, reserved only for when he had all of his daughters around him. He called for his daughters to go easy on their brother and they all chirped that that was exactly what they were doing around their giggles, though the look Markus shot him said otherwise. His father laughed as Markus was yanked back and forth.
The king found everything his daughters did to be hilarious and endearing. Everything.
Markus fought to enter the throne room to sit on the throne, a long bench with soft purple cushions that his sisters knew was reserved for the King, his sons and the Queen. They released him but did not go far, instead hoovering as near as they could to continue their animated chattering while Markus stared hard ahead. His father plopped down next to him then and called for a song, and in a moment's time his sisters gathered themselves and began to sing, others fishing out instruments from their garments to play tunes while their father waved a finger around to the melody.
The combination of their thoughts, their voices, and the noises coming out of their instruments made Markus’ headache, and so he lifted a hand to press it to his skull. That same hand was pulled away from his head and a baby was hastily put into his arms – Markus had to scramble to not drop the screaming infant, staring down at its equally startled face in panic, the infant just as frightened of Markus as Markus was of it.
“See? Doesn’t that feel right?” His father asked eagerly from next to him.
Markus stared down at the red-faced infant that screamed up at him with her gummy mouth, grabbing onto his tunic to yank at it with its monstrous strength, ripping it where it was pinned at his shoulders. Markus glared at his father but only got a grin in return. “Take. It. Back.” He grounded out.
“Not until you tell me you like it!” His father said in his whiny tone.
Markus gritted his teeth. “Take her back, father. Please.”
His father scowled and expertly scooped the infant out of his arms, the little girl falling silent to smack her lips and cling to her father with a determined, greedy look. “Really, Markus. Look. You hurt her feelings.” Said hurt infant was gnawing on her father’s arm with a concentrated look. “Women are sensitive creatures. You must be nicer than that with them. Treat a woman nicely, and nicely they shall treat you!”
This was his father’s favorite saying – Markus thinks it’s because he’s hoping to avoid the fate of all his predecessors, who had all been slain by their eldest daughter – save for one, whom was stabbed to death by several of his daughters, though it is widely accepted that the eldest was the instigator in that as well.
“You know...I had a very interesting conversation with your aunt this morning.” His father said cryptically. When Markus gave him a flat look, he laughed. “Ah, I guess I should be a bit more specific, hm? Cydonia. I was talking to Cydonia.” He chuckled a little. “And she said...that it’s time.” He paused then, obviously waiting for a reaction.
Markus frowned at him. “Time for what?”
Antonius made a noise and lifted the baby in his hand to present it to his son. When Markus’ frown deepened, his father sighed. “She’s decided it’s time to put down roots, Markus. She’s ready for a daughter.”
Markus jolted.
“I thought I might give her this one. I had intended to give her to Atlanata, but - well. She just isn’t ready - soon! But not yet. I think she just wanted one because Leda and Atthis each got one last year, and you know that Atlanata always has to do what they do!” He sighed, retelling the gossip he had surely heard from his daughters as he held his newborn back to his shoulder to give her a cuddle. “So now I have to find this one a new potential mother.” He looked to Markus’ blank expression and far away gaze. “Do you think Cydonia would be a good match?”
Markus slowly looked to the baby chewing on the underside of his Father’s chin with a determined look, his Father looking to him with an expectant look, completely unbothered by the infant. “No. I don’t.” The prince said simply.
His father frowned. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Well...alright. I trust your opinion, especially when it comes to Cydonia.” He patted his daughter on the back and she pulled away from his jaw to twist and focus on smacking his hand with an excited squeal. “But you know, I’ll have at least another eight born before the end of next month. I’m sure she’ll want one of those - she did request a little girl with dark hair...this one’s hair looks like it will be lighter.” He patted the baby hair on the top of her head fondly before he turned to watch his son’s face crumble. Antonius made a sympathetic noise and frowned. “You know she couldn’t continue going with you on all of your hunts, Markus. At some point, she’d want to settle and have some daughters of her own. I think she deserves a couple, after all she’s done for our family. Becoming a mother is the next natural stage for her, and I know it's something she has longed to do ever since we lost our beloved queen."
Markus blinked hard and lifted his gaze.
As tradition was, the king needed many daughters to build an army of soldiers to protect their kingdom. So with various women, the king would have his daughters, and shortly after their birth they would be brought to the palace to be raised by the unmarried sisters of the kings. Most all of his Aunts had thus far taken on daughters of their own - there were only five or six now still without one, and Cydonia had been one of them.
She had always expressed to him that she would never raise children of her own, as she enjoyed the hunt too much. What had changed her mind, Markus was not sure. He didn’t think he wanted to know. All he knew was that once an Aunt took on a daughter to raise, they stopped going out on quests altogether and hardly ever left the palace grounds.
His father made a noise then. “Markus...come back out of that head of yours.” Markus slowly slid his gaze to his Father to see him giving him a gentle look. “This could be an opportunity for you. A great opportunity to prove yourself capable.” His father said gently. "It's time for you to start taking on challenges by yourself."
“I’ve battled alone before.” Markus said quietly.
“Yes, but that was back when Father was still around.” Markus flinched. His Father was too busy playing with the big, loopy bow made out of thin gold fabric in his newborn’s hair to notice. “You were just a child. Now you are a man.” He smiled at him then. “Think of this as a step in the right direction toward independence!”
Markus thought that was an odd statement, seeing how overly dependent his Father was on his Markus’ Aunts, who largely took care of the day to day management of the kingdom under the guide of his Mother - but he would not say that out loud, especially not in front of his sisters.
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