A/N: Dear readers, I apologize for the slightly late chapter. I know it's only the second chapter that's actually only the first chapter, seeing as the first was the prologue...ANYWAY! I've been working on this periodically since I posted the story, since I have issues with writing an entire chapters worth in one go. Also my girlfriend, the lamp, has been giving me crap for dating my boyfriend, the squirrel, at the same time. Getting off topic. Yeah I'm just going to end this a/n now 'cause you probably already all think I'm a loon, but IT'S 4:24 IN THE MORNING! Plus I've had a headache all day because of exhaustion 'cause my mom woke me up early and I fell asleep at like 2:30(early right?).
Disclaimer: I wonder if anyone actually get's sued for not putting one of these up...Well I'm not going to test it that's for sure! I don't know if Antigone is public domain but whatever I'll put this up anyway. I don't own Antigone or any of it's lovely characters. I did in fact make up the Pirro, Ceasar, Plato, and Maia, so yeah...
A large stone door was the only thing between Creon and Haemon's survival. Once he passed through those doors it would all turn out ok. Plato ran ahead slightly so he could open the doors and Creon could pass through without wasting time. As Plato's hands left the cool bronze handles, a tall, male, long-haired servant clothed in robes of second class material that was the slightly off white color of hard labor, rushed to greet those who entered and alert the guards if they were intruders or a threat to the king. His dark almost black eyes opened wide when he saw Creon, his robes bloody and ragged with an even worse looking Haemon clutched in his grasp. He stood stock still as the king rushed through the now clear passage-way to get to the main hall where three people stood, one being Eurydices- his wife- and two unrecognizable.
"Creon!" The three shouted simletaniously as they all turned towards where the king was shifting his son and a nervous guard stood behind, panting almost as hard as Creon himself was. The long-haired servant, which Eurydice wracked her brain for the name, rushed in with the head healer of the house: Demitrius.
The next few minutes were a blur for Creon. All he knew was something was being taken from his arms, something he knew he shouldn't - or didn't want to - let go of. He felt cold hands press into his muscular back and guide him to a room, one he didn't recognize, and be placed in a chair by the far window. He sat for what felt like hours, but was only five or six minutes in reality.
Once his mind returned to him, Creon began to understand what was going on: his son was dying in the other room because he had killed his bride-to-be. A horrid stabbing feeling began in the area where he assumed his heart was. He glanced down, expecting a crimson color to be spreading through his robes. What surprised him exponetially, was that the blood he was expecting was brown and crusty. Now that he thought about it, his entire being felt stiff and sticky at the same time. After checking himself over, he found his arms to be covered in a reddish-brown substance he guessed to be dried and still wet blood. His usually light azure robes were stained and ruined. All Creon could think was, I need to get new robes.
Creon got up from his chair and exited the strange room he had been left in. He attempted to navigate himself through the long narrow corridoors of his home and wound up outside of Haemon's chamber. The faint, musty smell of oak and rain drifted from under his door. Creon's calloused hands found themselves resting on the decorated marble door leading into his only son's room. His blunt fingernailes glided over the smooth marble as he clenched his hands into fists and rested his pounding head against the cool surface.
A call from down the corridor startled Creon as he turned sharply to glance at the voice. A small red-haired servant rushed towards him, on his face a look of surprise. He was wearing clothes similar to Ceasar's, his higher, in all but quality. This small servant's outfit looked barely to fit him where Ceasar's seemed only a few months old. Once the servant reached him, he immedeatly dropped to his knees and began apologizing for disturbing the troubled king. Creon demanded he rise and say what he intended.
"W-well master, you are covered in blood and the queen announced to all of the servants that if we were to find you we were to attempt to convince you to join her in the medical wing." He glanced down then, his long,wavy red locks hiding his meek, emerald green eyes. Creon looked down at himself suddenly remembering why he left the room in the first place.
"Tell her I shall go put on fresh robes and meet her there. Now." His voiced echoed throughout the are and the frightened servant rushed to meet the queen and tell her the news. Scurrying off down the hallway, Pirro past many servants and workers of the royal house. Pirro couldn't help loving it, the quick moving people rushing down the halls either alone or in small groups, made him feel something. He felt like he was a part of this, this chaos and work. Pirro wasn't too mistreated, only on a bad day or if he didn't follow orders correctly. Then Ceasar would get really angry at him and he would wake up in one of the many halls and navigate himself back to the kitchens to help with breakfast, as he always did.
Though Pirro loved the hectic lifestyle of a servant, he couldn't help wanting to leave. Pirro wasn't the type to like being told what to do. If he was new to the servanting business, he would probably have been killed by his fourth week. Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how you saw it,) Pirro was born into the servant business. Many of the people born into the job were refered to as slaves, for they were unable to get out of it and usually didn't want to be involved. Most of the servants were in debt and decided to pay it off with service, when that debt was paid they were allowed to go home. Pirro didn't have this option. He was probably going to die alone in the streets once he got too old to work. It had happened to his grandfather many years ago. The two were using some of their free time to just talk in the laundry room, the occasional maid coming in and putting up or taking down clothes from the thin rope that stretched across the room. Three bulky guards and the late Queen Jocasta entered the room and took him from the room. They never gave him a proper burial.
"Pirro! I've been looking everywhere for you! Where've you been?" Maia, one of Pirro's slave friends, called out to him from the end of the hallway he had subconcioussly turned down. It ended up being the medical wing, and lucky for Pirro, he remembered the message he was tasked to deliver. Pirro rushed to the area he assumed Eurydices would be located, and lucky for him, she was sat on the floor wondering where her husband was.
A/N: Yeah next chapter might be a little later, but I will try my hardest. I only write when I'm in a "writing mood", just like I only draw when I'm in a "Drawing mood". Love my readers! I'm going to take a nap now. Oh! THE HEALER LOOKS LIKE NEIL PATRICK HARRIS. I less than three him and he's the doctor. Thank you. R/R please!