King Euclid of Algopolis was worried. The Pythagoreans were less than a week away, and Algopolis did not have an army nearly strong enough to battle them and win. Sure, they could survive a siege for two weeks, maybe a month, if they really stretched their rations, but after that, the fall of the city was inevitable.
The feared army of Pythagoras was commanded by its ruthless and eponymous king, Pythagoras. Once upon a time, Pythagoras was a peaceful polis named Algebra, but that changed when the egotistical prince ascended the throne and renamed the city after himself. In a short time, he turned a community of city-dwelling philosophers into a war machine. As he and his army marched through sovereign territories, he conquered cities, wedded their women, and fathered children. All told, he had fifteen legitimate offspring (and countless illegitimate ones), fourteen of whom were females.
Now, in his mid-forties, King Pythagoras was less concerned about taking on new wives and more concerned about finding matches for his young brood of daughters. They all needed suitable husbands, and he was adamant about not marrying them off to commoners. When he moved to a new territory, he presented the leader of the community with two choices: accept his offer of peace in exchange for his daughter's hand in marriage or face the wrath of his army.
King Euclid was presented with the same options two weeks ago. The laws of Algopolis forbade polygamy, so that eliminated him as a possible husband for one of the daughters. Even if he were allowed to have multiple wives, Euclid doubted that Pythagoras would view it as a suitable match.
The other option was his only son, Isosceles, who was yet unmarried. However, that plan had a wrinkle too. His son was already betrothed to the Princess Polly of Trigopolis. The big fat Greek wedding (for Polly was obese) had been in the works for a year now. No expense had been spared, and the date was less than a month away. They would have been married sooner if it hadn't been for the delay in importing the wedding gown from China. Shipments from China were delayed due to 'supply chain logistics' issues, a problem that plagued Ancient Greeks as much as it plagues the denizens of the twenty-first century. To break off the marriage at this point would be unimaginably rude, to put it very mildly. However, the people came first. Euclid decided it was time to say 'yes' to Pythagoras. The matter with Princess Polly would have to wait till after his city was safe.
....
Prince Isosceles's wedding to Princess Cosine, the seventh daughter of King Pythagoras, was a much smaller affair. Her wedding dress was a hand-me-down from the third sister (Hypotenuse), who was closest in size to her. The feast was attended by the Pythagorean army and a trusted group of philosophers and servants from Algopolis. They were the ones who could keep this marriage a secret until the king figured out how to break the news to the king of Trigopolis and his obese daughter.
It was not a big wedding, but it was a good wedding. There was food, drink, and merriment. The philosophers of Algopolis were happy that they had escaped certain death, and the army of Pythagoras was happy that it did not have to shed blood.
The only person who was unhappy was Prince Isosceles. He had been unhappy with his engagement to Princess Polly, and now he was unhappier with his marriage to Princess Cosine. It wasn't the plainness of Polly or the shotgun wedding to a war monger's daughter that had him in the blues. It was because he was in love—in love with Infinity. And neither Polly nor Cosine was Infinity.
Who was Infinity? Infinity (who went by Infy) was the Queen's (Isosceles mother's) hand-maiden. She would have been his high school classmate, but servant girls did not attend school in ancient Greece. But that had not deterred her from learning to read and write. A naturally curious girl, Infy had raided Isosceles's educational material and learned as much as she could.
Infy had secretly learned how to read, and when the prince was not around, she read his scrolls and wrote on his tablets. Isosceles had found out and blackmailed her (coz she was a servant girl and all, and they were not allowed to read) into doing his school homework, a task Infy did not mind at all. One thing had led to another, and as boys and girls bonding over a chapter from Plato's textbook often do, they fell in love.
Isosceles was the romantic, and Infy was the pragmatic. Infy understood that a servant like her could never hope to marry a Prince. The best she could hope for was his secret love, and she had that. Isosceles, on the other hand, was ready to renounce his title and abdicate his responsibilities so he could be with Infy. Infy had wisely talked him out of it by pointing out that it would mean the death of her whole family, for the servants were always blamed for the moral degeneration of the royals.
On the wedding night, Isosceles found himself having a tough conversation with his new wife.
"My lady," he began. "Please do not misunderstand my refusal to bed you as a rejection of your beauty. You are but one of the most pleasing specimens of the female species I have ever laid my eyes upon, but alas, I cannot deflower you tonight. That is something I physically cannot do."
"Can't or Won't?" asked Cosine.
"Can't and Won't for reasons I cannot explain to you, my lady."
"Dude, this is my wedding night. I am horny as hell, and you are telling me you won't fuck me? Did I hear you right?" (A Shrewd observer may notice that for a princess her language was remarkably coarse and un-lady-like. A life lived in close proximity to the army will do that to your vocabulary.)
"I am truly sorry, my lady, but I cannot."
"Well, I am not happy with that explanation. I am getting laid tonight, whether you like it or not. I am not a gal who is easily turned down. Trust me, in an hour, you will be begging to fuck me."
Cosine was tall and pretty with symmetric features. She had blue eyes and blonde hair, a very rare combination for Greeks of that era. She had big breasts and a big ass to boot. Most importantly, she had confidence in herself and her ability to arouse men (or women.) Her confidence stemmed not just from her beauty but also from her ability to perform an original move that most men (or women) couldn't resist.
Cosine stripped out of her wedding dress carefully (she needed to save it for her unmarried sisters) and, once naked, straddled the fully-clothed Isosceles, who was sitting on an armchair. She proceeded to jiggle her breast in his face and then to grind her bottom on his crotch. This original move, created by Cosine of ancient Greece, would later be appropriated by lap dancers all over the world.
"You like what you see?"
"You have a nice bosom, but it does not arouse me," said Isosceles.
"Well, I'll be the judge of that," said Cosine, feeling his crotch.
"You can unbutton my garment and verify for yourself."
And so, she did. She undid his button fly and fumbled through layers of clothing to find a flaccid penis.
Disappointed but still not defeated, Cosine stepped off Isosceles and kneeled between his legs. She gave his tiny member a few licks and engulfed it in her mouth. She readied herself for an erection that she was sure was about to come, but none did. The penis refused to respond.
Frustrated, she said, "Dude, you are impotent. Once I tell my dad that you can't get it up, this marriage will be null and void. He will kill your family and your people."
"And I will tell them you don't have the skills needed to please her husband. That you cannot bear to look at my manhood, let alone stir passion in it."
"You will lie!"
"If I have to. To save my people."
Cosine looked at Isosceles, finally defeated. She hadn't expected much from this arranged marriage, but to not even be fucked on her wedding night was thoroughly disappointing.
"Ok, I give up. If you won't fuck me, can I text my lover to come over and pound my pussy?" It was her wedding night, and she was determined to enjoy it, whether her husband bedded her or not.
"Nothing will please more than to see you satiated."
Cosine went to the window and whistled. A pigeon waiting nearby flew in.
"You up?" wrote Cosine on a scroll and attached it to the pigeons' legs.
The husband and wife waited in silence for a while, but no reply came back.
"The pigeon network in Algopolis sucks," remarked Cosine.
