GENRE: Queer Historical Romance
LENGTH: 41,286 words
RATING:

The Spartan army is at the gates and humble priestess Telesilla is willing to do whatever it takes to keep her family safe, even if that means staying in an abusive relationship with the goddess she loves and serves.

Spartan King Cleomenes is fighting an unjust war and he knows it, but he's willing to do whatever it takes to feed his starving people. Even if that means being stuck in a loveless marriage with his co-regent Demaratos.

On the eve of battle, Athena appears to Telesilla with her helmet of invincibility, offering her the chance to use it to save her people or her soul. Telesilla knows her choice will change the outcome of the war, but questions the goddess’s motives. She fears that in accepting her assistance, it would free her from one hell only to chain her to another.

Both Telesilla and Cleomenes are desperate to help their people, but do they have what it takes to follow their hearts and leave their destiny behind?

EXCERPT:

Telesilla felt the presence of divinity behind her, and she flinched instinctively. Please, no, not her, she begged, knowing in her heart how wrong it felt to dread the one she had loved.

But as she straightened her veil to greet the goddess in deference, she realized the warm glow that surrounded her. The goddess behind her was not Klio.

“Pallas Athena,” she bowed respectfully. “Thank you for your divine presence.”

The goddess pulled off her helmet and tucked it under her armpit. She offered her an understanding smile, almost apologetic to meet her. “Telesilla, I had wanted to speak with you sooner, but you were -- erm, indisposed.”

Telesilla blushed, keeping her eyes lowered in respect. “Aye, goddess. I live to serve. Is there something I can do to better serve you?”

“No. But there is something I can do to serve you. I have heard your prayers.”

“Oh?” Her voice hitched in fear. She kept her eyes on the goddess’ feet, clutching the hem of her peplos’ sleeves in nervousness.

“I heard the poem you wrote ...”

“Just silly nonsense, really,” she said, “Not even in correct meter.”

“You made a new meter. To honor us gods. To save your people.”

She shrugged wordlessly, suddenly uncomfortable being the center of the goddess’ attention.

“You sang to your patron Klio, May you keep my family’s name out of your tongue.”

“It was foolish of me, really,” she replied awkwardly. She shuffled her feet nervously. “It is an honor for the goddess to have chosen Argos for such a glorious campaign. And I am honored to be chosen by the goddess to pen her history. I am so happy. So unbelievably happy ...” she lied, but her breath hitched in a sob.

Athena dared to pull her into an embrace. The goddess was holding her stiffly, but she relished the comfort she was offering.

“Tell me, friend. Why do you stay with a goddess who treats you so?”

“I cannot deny a goddess,” she sobbed.

“There are other Olympians that would offer you protection. You don’t have to stay with one who treats you so terribly.”

“I have to protect my family. My country ...”

“Little poet, Klio cannot harm ...”

“But she can!” she dared interrupt the goddess. “She can weave my family into her history! She can tell the Spartans how our walls were breached in previous wars! She can offer them strategies of how others have blockaded our fleets, cut off our supplies, and starve us out!”

“She cannot change the outcome of the war,” Athena countered.

“She already has! She whispers strategies to the Spartan king! He knows our secrets; he brandishes the severed arms of our fallen farmers to rouse up his troops’ bloodlust in battle!”

“That’s not what happened. Cleomenes ...”

Telesilla shuddered. “Please, I beg you, do not mention his name in my presence. I beg every day that he never cross paths with my brothers.”

She shook her head. “I cannot promise that.”

“Don’t you understand? Klio has the power of history. She has weaponized the past to control our fates. Our future. And I am doing everything I can to be her darling, so she will keep my brothers’ fate out of her history.”

“So you use yourself as a lightning rod,” Athena accused.

“I have to.”

“Why?”

“I just do.”

Athena ran her hand across the top of Telesilla’s head, smoothing out her linen veil. “It is not your job to control your brothers’ fate.”

“I have to do what I can to save my family. My people.”

“Your actions are brave, but your sacrifice is not going to work the way you wish it to. You are poisoning yourself in payment of a promise she cannot fulfill. Now, close your eyes and take a deep breath.”

Telesilla did as she was bid.

Athena placed her rainbow-crested battle helmet upon her brow. The smoothness of her linen veil helped it glide into place easily. Telesilla hitched her breath in surprise and fear.

“I am not worthy ...” she offered, with a half sob.

“Little poet, you are worthy of much more than the fate Klio wants for you. While you wear my helmet, she cannot harm you. Use it to free yourself.”

“My brothers ...”

“Your servitude to Klio will not save your brothers. Their fate belongs to Klotho, not her, not you. All you can do is be true to yourself. Once you are freed from your fear, you will be able to use your gifts to help the ones you love. You will save your city through your courage. Use my helmet to channel that fearlessness.” She bent down to kiss the bridge of her helmet’s nose guard. “Be safe, little poet.”