the light of greece.

Artemis, Iphigenia recalls, is not a particularly forgiving goddess. But, as she walks to the altar at Aulis, head held high, a part of her wants to beg for her life, to beseech the goddess to spare her.

She doesn't utter a word.

It's useless, the princess reminds herself. Gods and goddesses love offerings, but may not always listen to prayers.

It's then that Iphigenia almost trips on a rock, one surprisingly hidden from the light of the full moon. The man walking her to the spot when she will die (one of her father's soldiers, someone with a forgettable sort of name and an even more forgettable face), looks at her, concerned, but says nothing.

It's bad luck to speak to the condemned, is what she knows he's thinking, and Iphigenia is, in fact, condemned as a sacrifice.

She rights herself with her usual grace and continues to walk. She spies Kalchas there, the priest. So he will hold the knife, she notes in her mind.

The princess wonders how much it will hurt, dying. 

It is then, in this moment of dark reverie, she notices a man with a cloak covering his head and face. When she gets up close, ascending the last few steps quickly, she knows immediately, with a sinking in her stomach, who it is.

Her father. Agamemnon is either already mourning her or is ashamed of his own greed. Iphigenia figures it's probably the latter.

He will watch her die. The princess feels her throat tighten, and gulps.

She sees Achilles there now, and remembers his promise to save her at the altar if she should change her mind. She doesn't want to. She doesn't plan to. Iphigenia has decided that this is the most resolute she's ever been, and ironically, will ever be.

She wants something to believe in. She wants something to choose. There was never opportunity for that, at least back home in Mycenae.

Kalchas begins uttering the prayers and Iphigenia feels someone start to place a gag around her lips. Yes, of course. So she doesn't curse the living.

But all she wants to do right now is speak.

"No," she says, shaking her head, much to the confusion of the young man placing the cloth around hef. "I will not curse you. Tell father that the ships can sail."

And then, she lifts her head higher, so that it will be a clean cut to her throat. She closes her eyes.

It is then that Iphigenia says a silent prayer, in her mind, for her family, for baby Orestes and Electra and Chrysothemis, and her mother, and yes, even her father. She prays that they will stay healthy, that Orestes will grow up strong, and that--gods willing--her family will prosper.

She's trying very hard to be brave. She hopes she is, because she feels Kalchas grip her hands, feels the blade of the knife touch her delicate skin, and then--

Nothing. It's only the wind.

 At 7 o'clock, Iphigenia is waiting in Sophia's Cafe, waiting for someone who may just turn out to be a new friend. She's glad to talk to him, even if he's maybe a bit reluctant.

She understands, and so she's sitting quietly at a table by the window, people-watching as she waits. She's got a small chamomile tea and a chocolate croissant in front of her, though she really hasn't eaten much of it yet.

Character History: 

Iphigenia is a princess of Mycenae, a city-state in ancient (Bronze Age, to be specific) Greece, which was known, at that time in history, as Achaea by its inhabitants. She is the daughter of King Agamemnon (of the house of Atreus) and Queen Clytemnestra (sister of Helen of Troy), and the eldest of their children. She has a younger sister, Electra, and a baby brother, Orestes. In some accounts, she has another sister, Chrysothemis, but this sister is mostly forgotten in the general story of the house of Atreus and therefore, for the purposes of simplicity, I will not be including her.

While not much is known about Iphigenia’s early life (her main claim to fame involves her actions at Aulis, which I’ll get to later), we can probably assume that she lived a fairly typical life for an ancient Greek princess. She probably learned to weave using a loom, and in canon, she is known for having a good singing voice. She probably grew up prepared to be married off to some other Greek prince.

Her story, however, doesn’t end like some sort of great romance or typical “ pretty princess” story. On the contrary, Iphigenia’s life is tragically cut short at Aulis, on the eve of the Greek ships sailing to Troy (to, you know, get Helen back, etc etc).

You see, King Agamemnon had a conundrum at Aulis. He had shot a deer in disrespect, angering the goddess of the hunt, Artemis, who then kept a fair wind from blowing, which kept the Greek fleet from sailing. A priest tells him that the only way to get the winds to blow is the sacrifice his first-born daughter, Iphigenia to the goddess.

Of course, Agamemnon balks at this, declaring he could never kill his beloved Iphigenia. But his brother Menelaus (the jilted husband of Helen) persuades Agamemnon to send for Iphigenia and her mother, Clytemnestra, luring them to Aulis on a false promise of marriage to Achilles (yes, that Achilles, the one who’s almost immortal except for his heel).

So, Agamemnon sends for both his wife and daughter, and they arrive in Aulis, joyful that Iphigenia is going to be married to such a great warrior. However, Clytemnestra soon finds out about Agamemnon’s plan to sacrifice their daughter, and she confronts him, with a tearful Iphigenia in tow.

Agamemnon, of course, denies his plan at first, but eventually breaks down. Iphigenia falls to her father’s feet, begging for her life to no avail. Clytemnestra then finds out, through Achilles (who is apparently the only man with a sense of moral obligation in this entire play) that even Achilles’ own men, the famous Myrmidons, have turned against him and are calling for Iphigenia’s death. In fact, all of the Greek troops, by this point, have become incredibly eager for war, and are threatening to mutiny if Agamemnon doesn’t have his daughter killed.

Iphigenia, at this point, is still understandably upset, but as Clytemnestra and Achilles try to hatch a plan to save the princess’ life, something remarkable happens. Iphigenia interrupts their plotting and proclaims that now, she will gladly go to her death because she wants to die with dignity, honor, and glory. 

Clytemnestra, of course, is horrified, but Achilles seems to respect her decision, though he still insists that he is willing to save her if she changes her mind. Iphigenia remains steadfast about her fate, however, and goes to the sacrificial altar singing, her lovely voice rising into the air.

This is where things get murky. After Iphigenia gets sacrificed, an old man comes to tell Clytemnestra that apparently, the goddess Artemis (remember her?), who not only is the goddess of the hunt, but also the protector of girls and young women, came and replaced Iphigenia’s body with the body of a doe, sweeping Iphigenia away off to live as a priestess for the goddess.

Scholars have gone back and forth about what this part of the myth really means. Are modern audiences supposed to believe that this happened? Did ancient theater-goers even believe it? We kind of...don’t know. However, for the purposes of the game, I will be taking Iphigenia from the point of her death, just before Artemis supposedly arrives and rescues her.

Character Personality: 

In some ways, Iphigenia is a bit of an enigma, mainly because she’s really a minor character in the grand scheme of the epic story cycle we know as the Trojan War and its aftermath. However, if one reads the play carefully, we can begin to pick out some main personality traits of the doomed princess. She is at once both youthful and mature beyond her years, possessing a solemnity that would rival that of a wizened old king. She is excited about her marriage to Achilles, yet gracefully rejects his offer of armed assistance when he presents it to her. She rails against war at first, but by the end of the play, embraces the call to “destroy the barbarians” and proclaims that “one man’s life is worth more than the lives of ten thousand women”.

The second quote seems to puzzle and unnerve many a modern reader of the play, as they simply cannot wrap their minds around how or why a young woman would say something some profoundly, well, anti-feminist. But what we must realize, and what I think is very important about Iphigenia, is the fact that she was raised in an incredibly patriarchal society, when men were right and women were pretty much wrong about everything (you know, according to the men). She grew up listening to her father’s tales of foreign invaders at Greece’s doorstep, so she learned from an early age that the world was a dangerous place and that only force and violence could control this ever-present, ever-threatening danger.

So we can see how Iphigenia is a young woman full of contradictions. She is scared at first, yet in the end, unafraid to choose her fate willingly and essentially die for her country. She’s sort of the opposite of a Disney princess in that she doesn’t want anyone to rescue her, let alone Achilles. She truly is “born strong”, which is what her name means in ancient Greek.

To sum her up, Iphigenia is kind beyond measure, a humanist in the truest sense of the word, to the point of her laying down her life for what she sees as a good cause. She is sweet and romantic at the beginning of the play, traits that I really don’t think fully disappear (she’s still appreciative of Achilles’ offer to save her, even if she ultimately denies him). She is passionate, at first defending her life fervently, and then eventually defending her father’s decision to go to war. She cares deeply about other human beings, imploring her mother not to weep as she walks away to her sacrifice. She is representative of many young women of her time, and yet she still manages to be extraordinary in her bold embrace of her tragic fate.


Powers and Abilities: None, really. She’s basically just human.