[h1]Greece[/h1]
[h2]Athens[/h2]

All throughout the room, conversation echoed, words bouncing off the walls, swirling and twisting into a thick mixture of sounds and voices, yet the cacophony had a delicateness, a mild flavor to the sound that made it anything but unpleasant to the ear. Athena was accustomed to the soft yet rich sounds of conversation that went on in the language club. Le Petit Paris was a relatively new organization in the center of Athens. Perhaps it was more popular among the common adults of Athens, however, it was very common to find the diligent secondary students coming to chatter away in the club, as well as a few words of Greek slipping in between the soft French vocabulary. Certainly, no one would take this as a scene out of France itself, but with French becoming an almost ubiquitous subject in Greek education, a little bit of extra help was necessary for those wishing to get into a decent university. 

And it was certainly better than taking on English or Turkish; at least that's how Athena saw it. 

A quick glance at the clock made it clear that her invited guest was not going to make it today. Athena groaned.

“Useless, leave us to do all the work,” she muttered under her breath, pushing back her chair, the agitated screeching it made almost audible over the interwoven blanket of voices that covered the main conversation area as she made her way to the door.

Though socialization was a typical activity at the club, it's primary purpose was education in the French language. The library was host to a group of adult learners, here for one of the lessons the institution provided for late learners. Athena made sure to avoid drawing attention to herself as she snuck into the back, carefully combing through the books to find that little guide to verbs she had spotted the other day. 

“Well, if he's not coming, I might as well just go home”

It was hardly a long trip from Le Petit Paris to Athena's home. Her father preferred living in the central area of the city. More people meant more obscurity, more insignificance among the common rabble of Athens. People talked in villages, close knit groups that had been around together for centuries. The Grandson and Great-Granddaughter of the greatest traitor in modern Greek history, they wouldn't last long in a place like that. 

Inner-city Athens was hardly a paradise. The streets were littered with the poorer Greeks, as well as the majority of the non-Arvanite Albanians, and the leftovers of the descendants of whatever Turks managed to survive both the end of Ottoman rule in Greece, as well as hide well enough from her Great-Grandfather's purges. Thankfully, most had no interest in who she was; and that was for the better.  

Athena and Georgos Metaxas lived in a single room flat in a large building in central Athens. Some speculated it had previously been the home of a nobleman but was now organized into a residential space, given the charming name of “Residential Block 22”.

“Dad, I'm home,” Athena said as she entered into the room. Georgos rarely cleaned up the place, and as usual, he was laying, unconscious and drunk on the couch. Crumbs and whole or half eaten tiropetes, little fried snack foods filled with cheese and parsley, littered the couch and ground. Her father had made them for her birthday yesterday, in one of the few time she saw him lucid all month. A copy of the local newspaper, Eleftheria, was covering him like a makeshift blanket. Athena picked it up as she noticed the headline. 

“Government crackdown begins on Shqip Albanian culture clubs; “Local meetings becoming havens of sedition and treason” remarks local official”

Athena threw the paper down while she tuned the radio, her father had left it on, yet it was only letting out static. Mostly it was more talk about the war, and about how “Shiptars” couldn't be trusted, as well as Arvanites insisting they were not like the Shqips, and that unlike them, they were loyal to Greece and to socialism, and that they were just as Greek as anyone else, they just happened to speak Albanian as a cultural langauge. Finally she found something, a comedy-mystery show she often listened to. To Peripeteies tou Ioanni kai tou Aristoteli, The Adventures of Ioannis and Aristotle. It was a period piece, a radio show set in the Byzantine Empire, about two men named Ioannis and Aristotle, who solved mysteries and protected the Byzantines from danger. Today's episode involved Ioannis being kidnapped by some unknown force, and the only clue being some fur left at the sight of the abduction. It wasn't long before Aristotle found out that Ioannis, as well as a damsel in distress, had been taken hostage by a Rus' warband looking to sell them into slavery in the lands of the Arabs!  Athena took what was left of the tiropetes and poured herself a glass of the wine in the kitchen area, and listened to the story, her mind forming pictures of Aristotle bravely infiltrating the Rus camp disguised as an Arab, and tricking the Rus into leading him to the prisoners to be shown to him for sale, slipping a pin to Ioannis as he inspected him, and then distracting the slavers with price negotiations ( complete with comedic dialogue) while Ioannis freed himself and the girl, and how the two managed to defeat the Rus' coating their whole tented encampment in vodka and kicking up the fire to trap them inside. The two Greeks escape and save the girl, while the Russians burned to death in a fiery end. 

Satisfied with the episode, Athena decided to go for a walk before her father woke up. 

It took about two seconds out before she heard a voice that annoyed her immensely. 

“Hey, Athena”, a lurid, voice called out to her in a disgustingly flirty way. Athena turned her head to catch sight of exactly who she thought. Demitrios Zervos was something of a local badass in this part of Athens. He was 18, followed by a little gang of local Albanian and Turk hoodlums who had bought into his game. They had taken to calling him the Pasha of Pangrati. Demitrios had his eye on the little girl for a while now, and he was intent to get her in his bed today. Athena stiffened herself up and responded.

“What do you want, creep?”

Demetrios chuckled, his cronies following suit. “I don't know if you heard, but I'm headed out to training in a couple days,” he puffed out his chest, in a failed attempt to look more masculine, “Gonna see some action in Albanian with some of the boys here too,” 

Athena scoffed, “Maybe you'll finally earn that title of Pasha; just be willing to pay with functioning legs”

“Shut up, cunt!” shouted one of the boys in the back, with Demitrios shouting back to the gang member to shut up and watch his mouth, with him immediately turning back to Athena with a sleazy smile as he apologized for his friend's misbehavior. 

“Okay, so you're going to war in a few days, so what do you want from me?”

“I figured if you're not busy, we can go back to the pad, share a little drink and maybe have some fun if you know what I mean”

Athena's face twisted in disgust, “I'm 14”

“Yeah, but you certainly don't look it”, he replied, looking her up and down

Athena pulled her arms over her body, “Disgusting”

“Hey, maybe the little prude is more like her great-grandpa than she likes to admit,” one of the others quipped, “Think's sex is dirty like old Johnny”

“Nah,” another spoke up, “My girl told me back in Argyrokastro and Korytza she was sharing a bed with that blonde chick, Lydia or whatever”

“Heh, looks like you're trying to woo a dyke, Demitrios”

Athena felt sickened by their insults and began to move back to the door of the residential block. 

“Oh, it looks like something finally got to her,” someone chimed up

“Probably worried we'll report her to the police and get her locked up”

“Don't be stupid, dykes don't go to jail, just fags”

“She'd probably like it too, locked up with a bunch of chicks. It'd probably be heaven for her.” 

Athena wanted to shout at them to shut up, but couldn't bring herself to it, only sneeking back into the block while they were too distracted to do anything, listening to the talking outside. 

“What the, where'd she go! Ah great work, guys, she's gone now you stupid fucks.”

“Don't act so made, Demitrios. You weren't going to get any anyways.”

Athena simply waited for the talking to die down, looking out the windows of the building lobby to see if they were gone. All the while cursing the group, hoping every one of them would die a horrible death in the war, that the Albanians would take their heads off and parade them around the villages like trophies. She was on the verge of tears, but held it back. Off in the distance, another radio was buzzing on about the war in Albania, That the premier had issued a statement on the conflict.

[h2]Hall of the Demogerontia, Athens[/h2]

Markos Vafeiadis was not fond of public appearances. Since the declaration of the Hellenic socialist republic all those years ago, he had rarely come out to address the state directly. He was far from the man he was then, a graying old man, a grizzled reminder of the commander who helped bring about the end of nationalism in Greece. Now the time had come once again to bring about the end of a monarchy. The Hall of the Demogerontia, the name of the ruling council of Greece, was a prominent part of the city of Athens, being a repurposing of the former palace of the king. Though it was often seen, it was rarely visited by those outside of the Communist Party elite. A crowd had gathered around the Hall as the premier made his public appearance, clearing his throat, he began to speak.

[i]“People of Greece, long has it been since we had seen it necessary to exchange blows with our neighbor. Albania is a contentious state, a state that has shown little regard for that which is wanted by the people. When the people of Northern Epirus declared their intention to leave Albania, and rightfully join into the Greek State, they refused, and we were forced to act, to aid our brothers in seeing their wishes realized. When the people of Albania spoke before that, and they united together and announced their intentions to bring the revolution to Albania, the tyrant Zog brought in his soldiers to enforce his will, to slaughter innocent people in the struggle for an Albania ruled by the people. But what should we expect from a man like Zog, a tyrant like Ahmed Zogu, who came to his power only by the will of the people, who was elected by their power, and showed his true, putrid nature by abusing his position, and becoming not a servant of the people, but a despot, who transitioned his nation into a Monarchy of his command, to set him and his descendants above all others in his lands. And now, the disregard of Zog shows, in his arrogance and hatred of the people, he has transferred control of the nation onto a son who is not fit to govern a household pet, let alone a nation! King Skander is the ultimate expression of the incompetence of monarchy and the dangers it holds against the common man. This fool sits upon a throne, letting Albania decay as the decadent and immoral advisors at his side carve the nation up for themselves and exploit its people and its resources. It is known that Greece has supported a far more befitting ruler, the brave Enver Hoxha, and his followers as they take Albanian back for the common people. With the declaration of a new government by Comrade Hoxha, it is now fitting that we, the Hellenic Socialist Republic, publicly recognize the legitimacy of the People's Democratic Republic of Albania, as the sole authority over the state of Albania, and denounce the unfit, tyrannical rulership of the House of Zogu. We announce a partnership of Greece and the legitimate government of Albania, and a pledge of Greece to assist and protect our socialist brothers in the north against the Monarchist threat. May the House of Zogu fall, and may Albania prosper under the leadership of Comrade Hoxha.”[/i]

Markos was certain that his speech had rallied the Greeks to his cause, and that it would send a clear message to all across Europe. Monarchy was on its way out, and it was only a matter of time before all of Europe was red.