Post by Scooterly on Aug 1, 2007 23:09:44 GMT -5
I am NOT giving up on my other story, I am NOT getting bored with my other story and I am NOT abdoning my other story but this was has been growing in my head for a long time and it is demanding to be written. I'm going to have more free time and should be able to keep up with both.
And of course, this is going to be totatlly inaccurate compared to the popular myths/stories/legends but I kept all the names and that's all that matters. ;D Besides, I've always wondered if there was another reason Meg never really liked men before she met Herc . . .
Let me know if you want me to continue, I hope its worth your while.
Prologue
Winning Affection
Eurydice, her body tired and worn, looked helplessly down upon the new baby girl in her arms. She let a meek smile pass her lips, her tired eyes lighting up as she gazed upon her daughter. But sadness shadowed her features as well, with a hint of fear. Creon had be so expecting a son, had been expressing his hope for days, weeks, months . . . and when she had went into labor and was separated from him, he had whispered in her ear that he couldn’t wait to see his son . . .
And seven hours later, she held in her arms a small, baby girl with a mass of dark curly hair and balled up fists, her newborn face scrunched up in distaste of this new world. She hadn’t even opened her eyes yet and her mother had fallen helplessly in love with her. It was her father she might have a harder time charming.
Eurydice pressed her lips to the infant’s forehead, smiling anyway, not thinking about the shortening time they had together before Creon came to see the new member to their family. Before he came to see the daughter that took the place of his imagined son. Eurydice sighed, holding the baby girl even tighter to her chest, tears trailing softly down the side of her cheeks and onto the baby’s forehead. She had heard of men tossing baby girls into foster homes and orphanages out of anger of not having a boy, even killing them and the mother. Though she tried hard to believe that Creon would never do such a thing to either of them, a dark, heavy fear continued to weigh upon her. Would she be blamed? An image of her head rolling into the blood of her daughter passed quickly and sent a shudder through her body, causing the small girl to stir.
“My lady,” one of the nursemaids had entered and was now looking nervously at Eurydice and the new girl. The new mother nodded, allowing her to speak. “My lady, your husband, Lord Creon, arrives.”
She bustled away, leaving Eurydice trembling anxiously. All she could do was hug the small girl’s body tighter and tighter to her, as though trying to press all her love and affection into the small body that might soon be looked upon with hatred. She tried to hold back a sob and kissed the tiny forehead once again.
“My little daughter,” she whispered tiredly. “My dear little girl . . . please; please have the charm to win your father’s affection . . . Oh, how I love you so!”
The door opened again all too soon and Eurydice found that she did not have the strength to look up. Sweeping footsteps echoed across the floor, time seemed to slow, the baby wriggled in her mother’s tight, loving embrace. The babe whimpered slightly, her balled hands rubbing her still closed eyes, the eyes she seemed so defiant to open to the new, bright lights of the outside world. Eurydice began to count the footsteps, her heart beating quicker and quicker.
One footstep . . . two . . . three . . . four . . .
Five . . . Eurydice forced herself to look up finally, her eyes still glistening with weary tears. The face of her husband met her sternly, his grayish eyes holding the slightest hint of violet and blue within them. He was soon smiling, seeing the tired state of his wife and he placed his hand upon her cheek, wiping tears from her cheek. She couldn’t help but smile back, hoping that he was in the best of the moods at the moment.
“My beloved, why do tears grace this tender, white cheek?” he cooed.
“I . . . I am tired, weary . . .” she stammered, her slender fingers trailing along the infant’s forehead. “I only need a bit of rest. I am joyous, Creon. I have welcomed a new life into the world!”
He grinned tenderly upon her and she felt her confident raise some. There were times when he really was so kind, so loving, and so tender with her. He had a short temper, but she had grown used to that over the years and had even learned how to temper it. She closed her eyes softly as his hand came to gingerly tuck some of her damp, matted dark hair behind her ear. He kissed her forehead and then her lips, looking into her eyes with such love that she was almost sure she had never seen anger or hate flare up into them before. She began to calm down, releasing the tight grip she had held on her daughter.
“I understand your weariness, love,” he said gently. “I will not burden you long. But may a new father see his new son?”
Eurydice lost her voice for a moment, her heart beating wildly in her chest struggling to find the right words as Creon held out large hands expectantly. She looked up at him blankly for a moment, the child squirming in her grip. No one, obviously, had informed him yet of the baby’s gender. She bit her lip.
“Eurydice, what’s wrong?” he laughed slightly. “Am I not allowed to hold infants?”
“I . . . I just . . .” she stammered.
He held his arms out to her expectantly and she craned her neck to look down upon her daughter again, tears welling up again. She couldn’t admit it to him, she was afraid. His hand pulled her chin up so she was looking in his eyes and she seemed to shrink before his gaze. She smiled twitchily, continuing to bite her lip nervously.
She kissed the baby girl’s head again, praying quietly that Creon would accept his daughter; they were bound to have another child in the future and she promised him a boy . . .
She held the tightly wrapped infant up with trembling eyes, feeling hopeful at the glint in Creon’s eye. He took the baby girl with careful hands, his grin spreading from ear to ear. Eurydice swallowed, her arms feeling so empty and weightless.
“She’s a girl,” she blurted out impulsively.
Creon’s face seemed to turn to stone and for a moment, Eurydice was terrified that he might drop the girl in his shock. But he held her still, tenderly in his arms, though he almost seemed repulsed. A tense silence followed where only the soft hiss of the torches broke the quiet. Eurydice was clinging, white knuckled, to the side of her bed, the sheets still wet and in need to be changed. She was sitting halfway up, her anxious eyes on Creon as he studied what he know realized to be a girl. He cleared his throat softly and the babe took up a soft whimpering.
“Creon . . . I’m . . I’m sorry,” she wasn’t really sure why she was apologizing, but something had to be said.
“A daughter,” he murmured, his voice untouched by emotion.
“Creon, please . . . I’m sorry . . . please accept her!” she found she was on the verge of sobbing again and took a deep breath to steady herself. “If you can not love her, please, I beg you, accept her! Let her live . . .”
“I asked for a son,” his voice was firmer now and Eurydice feared that his grip might be to.
“Creon, I’m sorry . . . forgive me . . .”
“And yet you gave me a daughter . . .”
“Do not blame her! Blame me!”
“I should have her slaughtered! Sacrificed!”
“Creon, please!”
The babe, alerted now to her mother’s desperate cries and her father’s ever tightening grip and rising anger began to fuss even more, squirming restlessly. Creon looked down with disgust, his breath coming quicker as his temper built.
It was then his daughter opened her eyes, even as a broken, weak cry broke from her lips.
Creon’s face seemed to change. He froze as he started to say something and swallowed tightly. He shut an open mouth, gazing helplessly down at her face. Attempting to make a gentle shushing sound, he brought up a free hand and ran his finger through her dark, curly hair and down her smooth pink skin. She calmed slightly, blinking at him now, her eyes still getting used to the light.
Her eyes, though rich, violet eyes; his eyes, though his own were so much duller and grayer. Hers were so bright, so young, so . . . alive.
Eurydice, noticing the change, was frozen to her half risen position. Her hands had long since lost feeling and her knuckles were deathly white. She watched with bated breath, trying to see what Creon would do. His grip had relaxed and the babe had silenced.
Creon smiled.
Eurydice all but fell back onto the bed.
He was so emerged in gazing at her tiny features and bright eyes that all thoughts of her being a daughter instead of his wished for son vanished and he gained a small twinkle back into his eyes.
“A baby girl, hm?” he still sounded like he was trying to sound disappointed, but he failed. “Well, I suppose . . . I suppose . . .”
He paused again as one of her tiny hands reached up to him. He placed a large finger in her pudgy hand and she gripped onto him tightly, wiggling in his firm hold. Eurydice let go of a breath she had been holding, silently thanking the gods that she seemed to literally have him wrapped around her finger.
“Look,” he muttered, chuckling somewhat. “She already knows who her father is . . .”
Eurydice could only grin, relieved.
Creon beamed down upon the small girl, enjoying the feel of a newborn’s tiny hand holding his finger. Those fingers were so tiny . . . her eyes so bright . . .
“I’m rather fond of the name Megara,” he spoke after a moment, finally tearing his eyes away to look at Eurydice. “Do you think it would suite her?”
“Oh Creon . . .” Eurydice whispered, not even caring if the name had been a grotesque or ugly one. “It fits her perfectly.”
He smiled proudly, watching with soft eyes as the infant yawned and let go of his finger and rolled over so that she was snuggled into his chest. He didn’t move for a moment, smiling lopsidedly now. “My dear little Meggie . . . my sweet Miss Meg . . .”
It seemed Creon could have a soft spot to. As he handed his daughter back to Eurydice, they kissed gently and he left her to rest. The maid returned with fresh bedding and Eurydice hardly noticed the change, as involved she had become with her daughter, her little Megara. She could only cry tears of joy as she rocked them back and forth, stroking her daughter’s soft, curly hair.
“Well done my sweet,” she kissed the pink forehead again. “My beautiful, strong little girl . . . you have won your daddy’s affection . . . you are going to live! Oh, bless Hera, bless all the gods, you are going to live!”
Little Megara, unaware perhaps of the commotion and the situation that had just occurred, had now squinted her eyes shut again and was sleeping soundly curled against her mother’s chest, one solitary curl defiantly arching out from the rest of the mass of her curls. And mother and daughter slept, both in a state of bliss.
And of course, this is going to be totatlly inaccurate compared to the popular myths/stories/legends but I kept all the names and that's all that matters. ;D Besides, I've always wondered if there was another reason Meg never really liked men before she met Herc . . .
Let me know if you want me to continue, I hope its worth your while.
Prologue
Winning Affection
Eurydice, her body tired and worn, looked helplessly down upon the new baby girl in her arms. She let a meek smile pass her lips, her tired eyes lighting up as she gazed upon her daughter. But sadness shadowed her features as well, with a hint of fear. Creon had be so expecting a son, had been expressing his hope for days, weeks, months . . . and when she had went into labor and was separated from him, he had whispered in her ear that he couldn’t wait to see his son . . .
And seven hours later, she held in her arms a small, baby girl with a mass of dark curly hair and balled up fists, her newborn face scrunched up in distaste of this new world. She hadn’t even opened her eyes yet and her mother had fallen helplessly in love with her. It was her father she might have a harder time charming.
Eurydice pressed her lips to the infant’s forehead, smiling anyway, not thinking about the shortening time they had together before Creon came to see the new member to their family. Before he came to see the daughter that took the place of his imagined son. Eurydice sighed, holding the baby girl even tighter to her chest, tears trailing softly down the side of her cheeks and onto the baby’s forehead. She had heard of men tossing baby girls into foster homes and orphanages out of anger of not having a boy, even killing them and the mother. Though she tried hard to believe that Creon would never do such a thing to either of them, a dark, heavy fear continued to weigh upon her. Would she be blamed? An image of her head rolling into the blood of her daughter passed quickly and sent a shudder through her body, causing the small girl to stir.
“My lady,” one of the nursemaids had entered and was now looking nervously at Eurydice and the new girl. The new mother nodded, allowing her to speak. “My lady, your husband, Lord Creon, arrives.”
She bustled away, leaving Eurydice trembling anxiously. All she could do was hug the small girl’s body tighter and tighter to her, as though trying to press all her love and affection into the small body that might soon be looked upon with hatred. She tried to hold back a sob and kissed the tiny forehead once again.
“My little daughter,” she whispered tiredly. “My dear little girl . . . please; please have the charm to win your father’s affection . . . Oh, how I love you so!”
The door opened again all too soon and Eurydice found that she did not have the strength to look up. Sweeping footsteps echoed across the floor, time seemed to slow, the baby wriggled in her mother’s tight, loving embrace. The babe whimpered slightly, her balled hands rubbing her still closed eyes, the eyes she seemed so defiant to open to the new, bright lights of the outside world. Eurydice began to count the footsteps, her heart beating quicker and quicker.
One footstep . . . two . . . three . . . four . . .
Five . . . Eurydice forced herself to look up finally, her eyes still glistening with weary tears. The face of her husband met her sternly, his grayish eyes holding the slightest hint of violet and blue within them. He was soon smiling, seeing the tired state of his wife and he placed his hand upon her cheek, wiping tears from her cheek. She couldn’t help but smile back, hoping that he was in the best of the moods at the moment.
“My beloved, why do tears grace this tender, white cheek?” he cooed.
“I . . . I am tired, weary . . .” she stammered, her slender fingers trailing along the infant’s forehead. “I only need a bit of rest. I am joyous, Creon. I have welcomed a new life into the world!”
He grinned tenderly upon her and she felt her confident raise some. There were times when he really was so kind, so loving, and so tender with her. He had a short temper, but she had grown used to that over the years and had even learned how to temper it. She closed her eyes softly as his hand came to gingerly tuck some of her damp, matted dark hair behind her ear. He kissed her forehead and then her lips, looking into her eyes with such love that she was almost sure she had never seen anger or hate flare up into them before. She began to calm down, releasing the tight grip she had held on her daughter.
“I understand your weariness, love,” he said gently. “I will not burden you long. But may a new father see his new son?”
Eurydice lost her voice for a moment, her heart beating wildly in her chest struggling to find the right words as Creon held out large hands expectantly. She looked up at him blankly for a moment, the child squirming in her grip. No one, obviously, had informed him yet of the baby’s gender. She bit her lip.
“Eurydice, what’s wrong?” he laughed slightly. “Am I not allowed to hold infants?”
“I . . . I just . . .” she stammered.
He held his arms out to her expectantly and she craned her neck to look down upon her daughter again, tears welling up again. She couldn’t admit it to him, she was afraid. His hand pulled her chin up so she was looking in his eyes and she seemed to shrink before his gaze. She smiled twitchily, continuing to bite her lip nervously.
She kissed the baby girl’s head again, praying quietly that Creon would accept his daughter; they were bound to have another child in the future and she promised him a boy . . .
She held the tightly wrapped infant up with trembling eyes, feeling hopeful at the glint in Creon’s eye. He took the baby girl with careful hands, his grin spreading from ear to ear. Eurydice swallowed, her arms feeling so empty and weightless.
“She’s a girl,” she blurted out impulsively.
Creon’s face seemed to turn to stone and for a moment, Eurydice was terrified that he might drop the girl in his shock. But he held her still, tenderly in his arms, though he almost seemed repulsed. A tense silence followed where only the soft hiss of the torches broke the quiet. Eurydice was clinging, white knuckled, to the side of her bed, the sheets still wet and in need to be changed. She was sitting halfway up, her anxious eyes on Creon as he studied what he know realized to be a girl. He cleared his throat softly and the babe took up a soft whimpering.
“Creon . . . I’m . . I’m sorry,” she wasn’t really sure why she was apologizing, but something had to be said.
“A daughter,” he murmured, his voice untouched by emotion.
“Creon, please . . . I’m sorry . . . please accept her!” she found she was on the verge of sobbing again and took a deep breath to steady herself. “If you can not love her, please, I beg you, accept her! Let her live . . .”
“I asked for a son,” his voice was firmer now and Eurydice feared that his grip might be to.
“Creon, I’m sorry . . . forgive me . . .”
“And yet you gave me a daughter . . .”
“Do not blame her! Blame me!”
“I should have her slaughtered! Sacrificed!”
“Creon, please!”
The babe, alerted now to her mother’s desperate cries and her father’s ever tightening grip and rising anger began to fuss even more, squirming restlessly. Creon looked down with disgust, his breath coming quicker as his temper built.
It was then his daughter opened her eyes, even as a broken, weak cry broke from her lips.
Creon’s face seemed to change. He froze as he started to say something and swallowed tightly. He shut an open mouth, gazing helplessly down at her face. Attempting to make a gentle shushing sound, he brought up a free hand and ran his finger through her dark, curly hair and down her smooth pink skin. She calmed slightly, blinking at him now, her eyes still getting used to the light.
Her eyes, though rich, violet eyes; his eyes, though his own were so much duller and grayer. Hers were so bright, so young, so . . . alive.
Eurydice, noticing the change, was frozen to her half risen position. Her hands had long since lost feeling and her knuckles were deathly white. She watched with bated breath, trying to see what Creon would do. His grip had relaxed and the babe had silenced.
Creon smiled.
Eurydice all but fell back onto the bed.
He was so emerged in gazing at her tiny features and bright eyes that all thoughts of her being a daughter instead of his wished for son vanished and he gained a small twinkle back into his eyes.
“A baby girl, hm?” he still sounded like he was trying to sound disappointed, but he failed. “Well, I suppose . . . I suppose . . .”
He paused again as one of her tiny hands reached up to him. He placed a large finger in her pudgy hand and she gripped onto him tightly, wiggling in his firm hold. Eurydice let go of a breath she had been holding, silently thanking the gods that she seemed to literally have him wrapped around her finger.
“Look,” he muttered, chuckling somewhat. “She already knows who her father is . . .”
Eurydice could only grin, relieved.
Creon beamed down upon the small girl, enjoying the feel of a newborn’s tiny hand holding his finger. Those fingers were so tiny . . . her eyes so bright . . .
“I’m rather fond of the name Megara,” he spoke after a moment, finally tearing his eyes away to look at Eurydice. “Do you think it would suite her?”
“Oh Creon . . .” Eurydice whispered, not even caring if the name had been a grotesque or ugly one. “It fits her perfectly.”
He smiled proudly, watching with soft eyes as the infant yawned and let go of his finger and rolled over so that she was snuggled into his chest. He didn’t move for a moment, smiling lopsidedly now. “My dear little Meggie . . . my sweet Miss Meg . . .”
It seemed Creon could have a soft spot to. As he handed his daughter back to Eurydice, they kissed gently and he left her to rest. The maid returned with fresh bedding and Eurydice hardly noticed the change, as involved she had become with her daughter, her little Megara. She could only cry tears of joy as she rocked them back and forth, stroking her daughter’s soft, curly hair.
“Well done my sweet,” she kissed the pink forehead again. “My beautiful, strong little girl . . . you have won your daddy’s affection . . . you are going to live! Oh, bless Hera, bless all the gods, you are going to live!”
Little Megara, unaware perhaps of the commotion and the situation that had just occurred, had now squinted her eyes shut again and was sleeping soundly curled against her mother’s chest, one solitary curl defiantly arching out from the rest of the mass of her curls. And mother and daughter slept, both in a state of bliss.