Rosewater Oasis Ώρα μηδέν

She laughed and paid him little mind. What could the Gods want with him? He was much like any other Roman: boring and brutish, self-righteous; not even in any way she could call exciting. How a man could be dull even in his intensity, Andromache would never know.

Besides; she knew who she was. At her birth Ειλειθυια told that the spark behind her eyes would one day burn kingdoms. Her father had watched with mouth drawn. A powerful man, but in that room he had been the least of them. So it was now, though Faustus remained ignorant. He was not a wise man, so Andromache tried not to fault him.

But she would not be addressed as woman. This was a lesson his brother had learned swiftly. Andromache set off toward the two men again, desiring the quiet reassurance their presence brought her. These were her own men; her father's, once.

He had not left her. Him, his death; one and the same now. She felt it, there in her throat, always.