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Nethis stood inside her quarters as she awaited her maidens to finish dressing her as well as final touches to her hair. The eldest Thanasi looked forward as she was being prepped as she replayed scenarios in her head, which she does to keep herself sane and aware. Nethis didn’t like to be disturbed when she is scheming, though given the circumstances she could only stall for so long. Nethis understands walking into the home of the Kotas is like walking into a wolf’s den yet denying the invitation wouldn’t be doing herself any favors. At this point, Nethis is stuck in the mercy of the gods, but in times like these, she always prevails in some form. At this moment her accusers lack physical evidence to her family being tied to the death of the late King, other than the shipwreck was found on the coast of Nethisa – a Thanasi province. Although, there is a chance for foul play and Nethis must be prepared for whatever happens. Public accusations were not spoken of, so it is safe to say that they are not sure who is truly the culprit. All of which was going through Nethis’s mind and a few times she was reminded to be ready – Nehtis simply waved them off not wanting to be bothered.
The King’s death shook all of Colchis, initially, it was a small victory for Nethis until she realized how detrimental it is to the Thanasi’s reputation. The shipwrecked on a Thanasi province, additionally, the Kotas family has always had an indifference with House Thanasi – especially when it dealt with the scheming Nethis. It wouldn’t take much for the lot to point fingers in her direction, and if she were to deny their claims it would still sound like an affirmation to them. A cell does not intimidate the Lady, nor does the thought of death, but what truly is her fear is the possibility that her family wealth doesn’t perpetuate. Everything Nethis does is for the reason… Having power, influence, and limitless wealth is the dream of a lifetime for the Lady Nethis. Thanasi deserves everything the gods’ have to offer because she believes they are chosen, destined to be great. Therefore, the gods are damned if she were to be sentenced for a crime, she had nothing to do with.
The next knock alerted that Evras had arrived and was asking for herself as well as Thea’s doings. Nethis turned around in her peplos that was a light hue of red with a golden snake that had rubies for eyes on both arms. The Lady spoke, “I am on my way down.” Nethis then stepped away from her maidens as she made her way out of her quarters and down to where the carriage awaited her. Nethis apologized to everyone for the wait, before slipping into the carriage with everyone. The Lady placed a hand on her father’s knee, before settling in for the ride to the home of the Kotas family. She wishes to make her father proud in moments like these, though the only recognition she needs the most are of the gods.
Sometime after…
Nethis and her family arrived at the Kotas home some moments ago, the family group entered in where many of the nobles gathered. Nethis took the lead to enter the area knowing eyes are likely to fall upon them like moths towards flames. Nethis slowed down to walk by Mihail as she whispered lightly, “Find the Princess.” Nethis said as she turned to look at Mihail for assurance, before moving to stand out of the way of things with her father.
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Nethis stood inside her quarters as she awaited her maidens to finish dressing her as well as final touches to her hair. The eldest Thanasi looked forward as she was being prepped as she replayed scenarios in her head, which she does to keep herself sane and aware. Nethis didn’t like to be disturbed when she is scheming, though given the circumstances she could only stall for so long. Nethis understands walking into the home of the Kotas is like walking into a wolf’s den yet denying the invitation wouldn’t be doing herself any favors. At this point, Nethis is stuck in the mercy of the gods, but in times like these, she always prevails in some form. At this moment her accusers lack physical evidence to her family being tied to the death of the late King, other than the shipwreck was found on the coast of Nethisa – a Thanasi province. Although, there is a chance for foul play and Nethis must be prepared for whatever happens. Public accusations were not spoken of, so it is safe to say that they are not sure who is truly the culprit. All of which was going through Nethis’s mind and a few times she was reminded to be ready – Nehtis simply waved them off not wanting to be bothered.
The King’s death shook all of Colchis, initially, it was a small victory for Nethis until she realized how detrimental it is to the Thanasi’s reputation. The shipwrecked on a Thanasi province, additionally, the Kotas family has always had an indifference with House Thanasi – especially when it dealt with the scheming Nethis. It wouldn’t take much for the lot to point fingers in her direction, and if she were to deny their claims it would still sound like an affirmation to them. A cell does not intimidate the Lady, nor does the thought of death, but what truly is her fear is the possibility that her family wealth doesn’t perpetuate. Everything Nethis does is for the reason… Having power, influence, and limitless wealth is the dream of a lifetime for the Lady Nethis. Thanasi deserves everything the gods’ have to offer because she believes they are chosen, destined to be great. Therefore, the gods are damned if she were to be sentenced for a crime, she had nothing to do with.
The next knock alerted that Evras had arrived and was asking for herself as well as Thea’s doings. Nethis turned around in her peplos that was a light hue of red with a golden snake that had rubies for eyes on both arms. The Lady spoke, “I am on my way down.” Nethis then stepped away from her maidens as she made her way out of her quarters and down to where the carriage awaited her. Nethis apologized to everyone for the wait, before slipping into the carriage with everyone. The Lady placed a hand on her father’s knee, before settling in for the ride to the home of the Kotas family. She wishes to make her father proud in moments like these, though the only recognition she needs the most are of the gods.
Sometime after…
Nethis and her family arrived at the Kotas home some moments ago, the family group entered in where many of the nobles gathered. Nethis took the lead to enter the area knowing eyes are likely to fall upon them like moths towards flames. Nethis slowed down to walk by Mihail as she whispered lightly, “Find the Princess.” Nethis said as she turned to look at Mihail for assurance, before moving to stand out of the way of things with her father.
Nethis stood inside her quarters as she awaited her maidens to finish dressing her as well as final touches to her hair. The eldest Thanasi looked forward as she was being prepped as she replayed scenarios in her head, which she does to keep herself sane and aware. Nethis didn’t like to be disturbed when she is scheming, though given the circumstances she could only stall for so long. Nethis understands walking into the home of the Kotas is like walking into a wolf’s den yet denying the invitation wouldn’t be doing herself any favors. At this point, Nethis is stuck in the mercy of the gods, but in times like these, she always prevails in some form. At this moment her accusers lack physical evidence to her family being tied to the death of the late King, other than the shipwreck was found on the coast of Nethisa – a Thanasi province. Although, there is a chance for foul play and Nethis must be prepared for whatever happens. Public accusations were not spoken of, so it is safe to say that they are not sure who is truly the culprit. All of which was going through Nethis’s mind and a few times she was reminded to be ready – Nehtis simply waved them off not wanting to be bothered.
The King’s death shook all of Colchis, initially, it was a small victory for Nethis until she realized how detrimental it is to the Thanasi’s reputation. The shipwrecked on a Thanasi province, additionally, the Kotas family has always had an indifference with House Thanasi – especially when it dealt with the scheming Nethis. It wouldn’t take much for the lot to point fingers in her direction, and if she were to deny their claims it would still sound like an affirmation to them. A cell does not intimidate the Lady, nor does the thought of death, but what truly is her fear is the possibility that her family wealth doesn’t perpetuate. Everything Nethis does is for the reason… Having power, influence, and limitless wealth is the dream of a lifetime for the Lady Nethis. Thanasi deserves everything the gods’ have to offer because she believes they are chosen, destined to be great. Therefore, the gods are damned if she were to be sentenced for a crime, she had nothing to do with.
The next knock alerted that Evras had arrived and was asking for herself as well as Thea’s doings. Nethis turned around in her peplos that was a light hue of red with a golden snake that had rubies for eyes on both arms. The Lady spoke, “I am on my way down.” Nethis then stepped away from her maidens as she made her way out of her quarters and down to where the carriage awaited her. Nethis apologized to everyone for the wait, before slipping into the carriage with everyone. The Lady placed a hand on her father’s knee, before settling in for the ride to the home of the Kotas family. She wishes to make her father proud in moments like these, though the only recognition she needs the most are of the gods.
Sometime after…
Nethis and her family arrived at the Kotas home some moments ago, the family group entered in where many of the nobles gathered. Nethis took the lead to enter the area knowing eyes are likely to fall upon them like moths towards flames. Nethis slowed down to walk by Mihail as she whispered lightly, “Find the Princess.” Nethis said as she turned to look at Mihail for assurance, before moving to stand out of the way of things with her father.
His daughters took far too long. Everything took far too long. It was like the world around him had slowed down. Where was the speed? The agility? The pressure and tension of high-speed politics and military prowess? What the hell had happened to the great might of Colchis?
Barking his frustrations at the maid that was helping him dress, for she moved at a Godsdamn snail's pace, Dionysios was quick to point out the chiton he wished to wear and then spent another five minutes convincing her to remove it and fit it upon his person, regardless of its length.
Would be too long for him now... what damn nonsense. He hadn't shrunk in his old age. He might not be able to stand quite as straight as he used to but he had lost no height. Woman didn't know what she was talking about. How dare she argue with him.
That was another thing. Servants. Servants and slaves. When the hell had they gotten to a point where they could answer back, express opinions? Twenty years ago - hades, ten years ago - Dionysios' word was law, his instruction formed in rock the second it left his lips. There was no alteration, change or interpretation. It was done. Now, it was all ‘of course, my Lord’s before they scurried off to check with Nethis if they were to complete his request.
It was damn insulting and he had fired and flayed too many serving girls and slave boys to count in the last few years. They seemed to just be getting replaced with more subservient bodies loyal to his eldest daughter over him. The girl thought he didn't notice but he did.
He needed to speak with Nethis about her attitude. He knew her to be cunning, to be conniving and to have inherited her deep, greedy intentions and the ability to achieve them from him. But loyalty was what drew a family together. Loyalty was what made a name great. And he would not broker or accept a usurpation.
He wasn't dead yet.
When he was finally dressed - after berating the girl for tying the cinch at his waist wrong and letting the chiton fall an inch lower than his feet - Dionysios took up the cane he preferred and headed towards the door of his chambers, utterly refusing an arm in aid.
Dressed in a charcoal grey that turned his pallor sharp and angular, the snake designed - a serpent eating its own tail - upon each shoulder were made of pure obsidian. No fancy gold or stark silver - just the purest and darkest of rocks from the heart of the Colchian mountains.
The black of his fibulae was matched with fine leather worked around his waist, around his feet and calves and the shiny onyx of his cane. The only metal in his attire was the silver serpent's head that adorned its end. It shone as bright as the white of his hair, stark and obvious in the rest of his attire.
As his children gathered around him to head for the carriages, Dionysios shrugged away their touches upon his bare arms.
He detested the way in which they all seemed to hover. Like he was in some way crazy or demented. They watched him with a cautious eye reserved for small children and it had his anger bubbling. How dare they disrespect him so...
He spent the ride to the Dikastirio in a stoic silence that he considered to be dignified. He watched from the window as the cart went along the streets, frowning at the dark patches on some of the structures. Had there been a fire? Why had no-one told him of this?
When the boys continued to argue inside the vehicle, Dionysios was quick to swing his cane, striking them both against their lower legs.
"Shut up." He told them with a growling voice of aged antagonism. "Dysius try not to make me ashamed to call you my first-born heir. Mihail take that thing out of your hair and wash your face. You look like a brothel wench."
His retort was only slightly dimmed by the low cough his words diminished into but his eyes were sharp.
Stupid boys, the pair of them.
When the carriages arrived, his youngest daughter was there to greet them. Careful in getting down the steps of the carriage - drivers these days didn't know how to keep their horses damn still and the steps were always shifting - Dionysios was glad to see her until she started pampering to him like a young boy with a skinned knee.
He went to wave his hand at her, forgetting his cane was in it, and swung the stick at her head. She was quick to duck - for which he was glad - but his annoyance had not subsided.
"Save your mothering for your boy." He told her, striking out with his cane to take a firm and dominant step forward, as if to prove he could do it his Godsdamn self.
"Where's your husband?" He asked Evras, looking over her shoulder as if expecting the man to materialise. "I need to pay my respects to the King." His words strong, Dionysios didn't realise he'd got himself in a bit of a muddle as to which Kotas prince his youngest daughter was married to...
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Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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His daughters took far too long. Everything took far too long. It was like the world around him had slowed down. Where was the speed? The agility? The pressure and tension of high-speed politics and military prowess? What the hell had happened to the great might of Colchis?
Barking his frustrations at the maid that was helping him dress, for she moved at a Godsdamn snail's pace, Dionysios was quick to point out the chiton he wished to wear and then spent another five minutes convincing her to remove it and fit it upon his person, regardless of its length.
Would be too long for him now... what damn nonsense. He hadn't shrunk in his old age. He might not be able to stand quite as straight as he used to but he had lost no height. Woman didn't know what she was talking about. How dare she argue with him.
That was another thing. Servants. Servants and slaves. When the hell had they gotten to a point where they could answer back, express opinions? Twenty years ago - hades, ten years ago - Dionysios' word was law, his instruction formed in rock the second it left his lips. There was no alteration, change or interpretation. It was done. Now, it was all ‘of course, my Lord’s before they scurried off to check with Nethis if they were to complete his request.
It was damn insulting and he had fired and flayed too many serving girls and slave boys to count in the last few years. They seemed to just be getting replaced with more subservient bodies loyal to his eldest daughter over him. The girl thought he didn't notice but he did.
He needed to speak with Nethis about her attitude. He knew her to be cunning, to be conniving and to have inherited her deep, greedy intentions and the ability to achieve them from him. But loyalty was what drew a family together. Loyalty was what made a name great. And he would not broker or accept a usurpation.
He wasn't dead yet.
When he was finally dressed - after berating the girl for tying the cinch at his waist wrong and letting the chiton fall an inch lower than his feet - Dionysios took up the cane he preferred and headed towards the door of his chambers, utterly refusing an arm in aid.
Dressed in a charcoal grey that turned his pallor sharp and angular, the snake designed - a serpent eating its own tail - upon each shoulder were made of pure obsidian. No fancy gold or stark silver - just the purest and darkest of rocks from the heart of the Colchian mountains.
The black of his fibulae was matched with fine leather worked around his waist, around his feet and calves and the shiny onyx of his cane. The only metal in his attire was the silver serpent's head that adorned its end. It shone as bright as the white of his hair, stark and obvious in the rest of his attire.
As his children gathered around him to head for the carriages, Dionysios shrugged away their touches upon his bare arms.
He detested the way in which they all seemed to hover. Like he was in some way crazy or demented. They watched him with a cautious eye reserved for small children and it had his anger bubbling. How dare they disrespect him so...
He spent the ride to the Dikastirio in a stoic silence that he considered to be dignified. He watched from the window as the cart went along the streets, frowning at the dark patches on some of the structures. Had there been a fire? Why had no-one told him of this?
When the boys continued to argue inside the vehicle, Dionysios was quick to swing his cane, striking them both against their lower legs.
"Shut up." He told them with a growling voice of aged antagonism. "Dysius try not to make me ashamed to call you my first-born heir. Mihail take that thing out of your hair and wash your face. You look like a brothel wench."
His retort was only slightly dimmed by the low cough his words diminished into but his eyes were sharp.
Stupid boys, the pair of them.
When the carriages arrived, his youngest daughter was there to greet them. Careful in getting down the steps of the carriage - drivers these days didn't know how to keep their horses damn still and the steps were always shifting - Dionysios was glad to see her until she started pampering to him like a young boy with a skinned knee.
He went to wave his hand at her, forgetting his cane was in it, and swung the stick at her head. She was quick to duck - for which he was glad - but his annoyance had not subsided.
"Save your mothering for your boy." He told her, striking out with his cane to take a firm and dominant step forward, as if to prove he could do it his Godsdamn self.
"Where's your husband?" He asked Evras, looking over her shoulder as if expecting the man to materialise. "I need to pay my respects to the King." His words strong, Dionysios didn't realise he'd got himself in a bit of a muddle as to which Kotas prince his youngest daughter was married to...
His daughters took far too long. Everything took far too long. It was like the world around him had slowed down. Where was the speed? The agility? The pressure and tension of high-speed politics and military prowess? What the hell had happened to the great might of Colchis?
Barking his frustrations at the maid that was helping him dress, for she moved at a Godsdamn snail's pace, Dionysios was quick to point out the chiton he wished to wear and then spent another five minutes convincing her to remove it and fit it upon his person, regardless of its length.
Would be too long for him now... what damn nonsense. He hadn't shrunk in his old age. He might not be able to stand quite as straight as he used to but he had lost no height. Woman didn't know what she was talking about. How dare she argue with him.
That was another thing. Servants. Servants and slaves. When the hell had they gotten to a point where they could answer back, express opinions? Twenty years ago - hades, ten years ago - Dionysios' word was law, his instruction formed in rock the second it left his lips. There was no alteration, change or interpretation. It was done. Now, it was all ‘of course, my Lord’s before they scurried off to check with Nethis if they were to complete his request.
It was damn insulting and he had fired and flayed too many serving girls and slave boys to count in the last few years. They seemed to just be getting replaced with more subservient bodies loyal to his eldest daughter over him. The girl thought he didn't notice but he did.
He needed to speak with Nethis about her attitude. He knew her to be cunning, to be conniving and to have inherited her deep, greedy intentions and the ability to achieve them from him. But loyalty was what drew a family together. Loyalty was what made a name great. And he would not broker or accept a usurpation.
He wasn't dead yet.
When he was finally dressed - after berating the girl for tying the cinch at his waist wrong and letting the chiton fall an inch lower than his feet - Dionysios took up the cane he preferred and headed towards the door of his chambers, utterly refusing an arm in aid.
Dressed in a charcoal grey that turned his pallor sharp and angular, the snake designed - a serpent eating its own tail - upon each shoulder were made of pure obsidian. No fancy gold or stark silver - just the purest and darkest of rocks from the heart of the Colchian mountains.
The black of his fibulae was matched with fine leather worked around his waist, around his feet and calves and the shiny onyx of his cane. The only metal in his attire was the silver serpent's head that adorned its end. It shone as bright as the white of his hair, stark and obvious in the rest of his attire.
As his children gathered around him to head for the carriages, Dionysios shrugged away their touches upon his bare arms.
He detested the way in which they all seemed to hover. Like he was in some way crazy or demented. They watched him with a cautious eye reserved for small children and it had his anger bubbling. How dare they disrespect him so...
He spent the ride to the Dikastirio in a stoic silence that he considered to be dignified. He watched from the window as the cart went along the streets, frowning at the dark patches on some of the structures. Had there been a fire? Why had no-one told him of this?
When the boys continued to argue inside the vehicle, Dionysios was quick to swing his cane, striking them both against their lower legs.
"Shut up." He told them with a growling voice of aged antagonism. "Dysius try not to make me ashamed to call you my first-born heir. Mihail take that thing out of your hair and wash your face. You look like a brothel wench."
His retort was only slightly dimmed by the low cough his words diminished into but his eyes were sharp.
Stupid boys, the pair of them.
When the carriages arrived, his youngest daughter was there to greet them. Careful in getting down the steps of the carriage - drivers these days didn't know how to keep their horses damn still and the steps were always shifting - Dionysios was glad to see her until she started pampering to him like a young boy with a skinned knee.
He went to wave his hand at her, forgetting his cane was in it, and swung the stick at her head. She was quick to duck - for which he was glad - but his annoyance had not subsided.
"Save your mothering for your boy." He told her, striking out with his cane to take a firm and dominant step forward, as if to prove he could do it his Godsdamn self.
"Where's your husband?" He asked Evras, looking over her shoulder as if expecting the man to materialise. "I need to pay my respects to the King." His words strong, Dionysios didn't realise he'd got himself in a bit of a muddle as to which Kotas prince his youngest daughter was married to...
Gosssip Like Father, Like Son
'You know what my maid said she saw not that long ago? The Lady Imeeya... in some kind of tryst at the docks... I know! Of course, she's been in Taengea for the last month but who's to say she wasn't running away from her lover...? ... Well, of course she would! I forgot to tell you the best part... he's a pirate! Yes, an actual pirate. My maid swears the lady was at the docks with him late at night... You'd hardly expect it from Lady Tythra's daughter would you? Though she always has been headstrong...'
JD
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JD
Staff Team
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'You know what my maid said she saw not that long ago? The Lady Imeeya... in some kind of tryst at the docks... I know! Of course, she's been in Taengea for the last month but who's to say she wasn't running away from her lover...? ... Well, of course she would! I forgot to tell you the best part... he's a pirate! Yes, an actual pirate. My maid swears the lady was at the docks with him late at night... You'd hardly expect it from Lady Tythra's daughter would you? Though she always has been headstrong...'
Gosssip Like Father, Like Son
'You know what my maid said she saw not that long ago? The Lady Imeeya... in some kind of tryst at the docks... I know! Of course, she's been in Taengea for the last month but who's to say she wasn't running away from her lover...? ... Well, of course she would! I forgot to tell you the best part... he's a pirate! Yes, an actual pirate. My maid swears the lady was at the docks with him late at night... You'd hardly expect it from Lady Tythra's daughter would you? Though she always has been headstrong...'
It had been six days since her eldest son landed in his native land a king. Two weeks since her second born had returned to Midas to tell her what had been found in Megaris. Whilst the Queen was unable to identify the days; the activities that passed between each rise and fall of the sun, she had been able to keep her mind on task and her life busy with responsibility.
It was a strange notion to come to terms with - the death of her husband.
For the King, as beloved as he was to her, was so often away from home throughout the course of their marriage that she had grown used to her life independent of him. Adoring of him, their union had been one of arrangement lucky enough to bloom into true love and affection. But still their worlds had remained very separate due to their genders and their own duties for the kingdom. Which meant that for much of her time across each day, Yanni would simply forget that her husband had passed into the realms of Hades, thinking him simply absent as normal and bound to return in the near future.
In the same way that her life was put on hold until the King's return each time that he went abroad to defend their borders, her grief had been put on hold until such a time where his death could be proven beyond all doubt. Something that was never going to be possible.
Lost at sea and waterlogged, her son had insisted that the body they had returned to Midas was not something she should ever witness. That it had worn his clothes, been aboard his ship, had been protected by his guards, and worn the crown. That this was all she needed to know and that it would only haunt her memories of the man if she was to see what the depths of the Aegean had done to his handsome face.
In truth, the saddest part of all had been that, upon her request at its retrieval, Zanon had been unable to locate the wedding band her husband had always worn. Whilst it was neither necessary nor always traditional for a man to wear a token of his union, it had been Tython's choice to display something that proved their matrimony one of love.
The band had been missing from his hand. Likely washed away by the slickness of his skin beneath the waves and lost for all eternity. Just as the man himself was lost to them forever.
It seemed an additional tragedy to never have the closure of his face at rest, nor to reunite his ring with her one in a sense of finality.
So... it was easy enough to fall into the habits of everyday life, simply assuming the king would one day return through those doors. A useless folly and bizarre when she had spent most of the last six days preparing for the coronation of her son. But it was helping her to bury her emotions for now and keep her mind on track, her responsibilities seen to. So, she could not chastise such a circumstance too much.
When it came to dressing for the formal feast, she had given into the hands of Evras and Athanasia to manage, however, the reality of the situation became all too real and Yanni strengthened her stomach and her will against any sign of emotional weakness. Tython would not have seen her yield or show herself in meek timidity. She was Queen. Whether that was as her husband's wife or in the role of mother to the new king, she still held Queen in her title. And Queen she would be.
In deference to this, she had rejected plans for a black chiton to be prepared and had arranged for something else to be made...
Cut in a regal style across the shoulders, exposing the long and elegant neck that she had inherited from her Taengean blood, the chiton was fastened in place at both shoulders and then was pulled to wrap closely around the frame of her torso and hips, before the material then flare to her feet. The chiton that was cut in the top like a peplos was in an elegant maroon - the same shade as the Kotas family shield - with slices of gossamer chiffon sewn into the silken skirts so that she moved with a cloud like grace. From the line of her breast to her waist and then winding down towards her left knee was an embroidered pattern and design in strands of gold, silver and bronze, interwoven into a floral design that was both femininely detailed but bold in structure. Her arms were left bare by the gown, as was the top half of her back, but she had seen to a chiffon himation in the same colour to be prepared and attached at either shoulder like a short cape, swooping down to the small of her back and covering any exposed skin in a translucent sheen. On each wrist she wore a broad cuff that was detailed in the bears of Kotas but splayed up the forearms in a shape vaguely resembling the antlers of a stag. It was decorated in Colchian blood gems.
Dressed and gowned, the Queen sat upon a provided stood with an embroidered top in order to have her servants fashion her hair. There, she was intensely specific also. Her long, mahogany tresses were twisted and secured into multiple braids all of which came together in a lattice effect similar to that which her daughter would be wearing. There was no frivolity of the style, as Yanni insisted that all locks were secured into place - no trailing curls or feminine additions.
Into the firm updo that have her a stern but authoritative air, she ordered flowers to be fitted. Apple blossoms and agapanthus. The first for sympathy and mourning. The second as a message of deepest love. The two white flowers were woven into the design, predominantly on one side of her head, whilst another of her ladies’ maids saw to making up her face.
The last two weeks - Zanon's announcement upon his return from Megaris, moving her chambers to her parlour, the arrival of Vangelis back in Colchis, the arrangements for the coronation - all of it had had the Queen losing weight and she was surprised how austere her cheekbones now appeared, how dominant her features. She had the lady adjust the powder around her eyes and along her cheeks to ensure a balance and then appraised herself in the shining silver mirror.
With her frame wrapped but her legs swathed, she was elegantly female. With her shoulders topped with fibulae that splayed outwards to mark her stature as Queen and her head bearing the royal crown of Colchis (for she would wear it until Vangelis married and passed it to the next woman in the line of Colchis Queens) she was intensely regal. Her fine stature from her noble upbringing and her life in a land of rock and men had given her a sturdy appearance. A sense of authority and power that her husband had lent to her when first she came to Colchis but which thirty plus years and five children had then claimed for her own.
She was no princess, noblewoman or pretty decoration for the arm of a king. She was no young Queen that had fallen into the role. She was Queen Yanni of Colchis. And had been for over three decades. Her husband's passing changed none of that.
With an assurance that was both her birth and marriage right, Queen Yanni left her chambers and headed through the Kotas manor. Upon gracing the foyer, she found only her son Zanon awaiting her arrival and a short conversation revealed that Silas, Athanasia and Evras had attended ahead of them to ensure the event was ready. Zanon had waited to escort his mother and eldest brother, who had not yet appeared.
"Seek out Vangelis." Yanni instructed her second son, reaching out to place a hand of affection to his cheek. "He will still be working and behind in preparations. I shall attend the Dikastirio now. Journey with him when he is ready." Yanni's thumb rubbed over her second born's cheek, the roughness beneath her touch reminding him that he was a man, no longer her boy. "Your brother is stoic but not made of stone. He will need your strength tonight."
And with a soft smile reserved for Zanon alone, she leant forwards to place a kiss to her grown son's forehead and then left the manor in a sweeping arch of embroidered maroon.
The carriage that was prepared for her was suitable enough for the Queen Mother and Yanni wasted no time in entering alone for all intents and purposes. Her ladies’ maids joined her, as did the guardsman who had been her personal protection for many years. But in terms of her relatives, she was alone in her journey to the Dikastirio, left to her own thoughts as she gazed at the darkening sky above.
Some of the dimming of the light was due to the time of day, as evening slipped into night. But some was due to the heavy and dark clouds swirling above and Yanni watched with a determined gaze as she prayed that Zeus might hold off on the hurricanes and stormy weather of the autumn months for another night...
Yanni's arrival at the feast was hardly a non-event. As each arriving party was announced to the congregation, so too was Queen Yanni's arrival, sending a ripple of awkward quiet across the festivities. Her back remaining straight, her eyes never wavering and her small but appropriate smile remaining in place, the Queen descended into the crowd and began to mingle as was her role as matriarch of the royal house.
Speaking to several different courtiers regarding their latest reports, tax changes and the weather in their provinces - all without missing a step - Yanni was pleased to offer a strong and knowledgeable front for both herself and her house. There was no need for anyone in the room to supposed that the Kotas Dynasteia had been weakened by its recent loss.
Noticing her daughter socialising as best she was able, the Queen smiled at her encouragingly and gave her a nod. If the girl wished to continue striking out on her own socially, she was able, if she wished to join her mother, she could do that also. Until Asia made the choice, Yanni simply offered a look of approval at her attire and her propriety.
When Yanni noticed the Drakos family arriving and attending towards the Leventis who had only recently arrived in Colchis (though Yanni recognised Evelli from their early years in the Taengean courts), the gossip that was the natural blood flow of a court event started to circulate around Lady Tythra's eldest daughter. Keeping her expression calm, as if she had not noticed the hum of activity in the wagging tongues, Yanni simply offered a look towards Tythra as she accepted a chalice of red wine. Sipping from the golden edged rim, her brow rose in question and Tythra's eyes hardened. The sisters-in-law needed few words by this point to communicate.
Moving through the crowds at a slow pace that was halted by different noblemen and woman offering condolences, asking as to the location of the King and suggesting any number of issues or solutions they thought Queen Yanni might be interested in hearing in such a moment, Yanni eventually made her way closer towards the royal dais.
The two thrones that had always previously occupied the space: one for herself and one for King Tython; had been replaced. Instead of two equally dominant chairs of state, her own had been moved backwards, the seat of the monarch shifted forward and a third regal seat set in place to form an arrow point. It was an appropriate layout that she suspected Lady Evras to be responsible for. The King would sit front and centre. His Queen Dowager to one side of him and his crown prince to the other. A reminder that, even with the King unmarried and childless, there were heirs to take his place. It was a message of stability and strength in the Kotas family.
Spotting the arrival of another royal pair - these ones with no thrones or crowns to claim their own - Yanni watched as one of her two houseguests Olympia moved to join her mother. She watched for a moment to ensure that they kept their voices low - the last thing they needed was for the court to go into uproar at the identities of the Kotas family's latest residents - and then turned to the man known as Stephanos who had been left in his wife's wake.
Taking a second cup from a passing server, Yanni took three graceful steps to one side and offered the chalice to the usurped king of Taengea.
Despite her time in Colchis ensuring that the two of them had never met before - for she had been Queen to Tython before Stephanos' birth - Yanni recalled Stephanos' parents with great clarity and had last seen Elise when she was expecting the child that would grow to become Prince Zacharias.
The Queen made no comment or greeting when she offered the cup towards the blonde man no older than her own first born. There was nothing that one could say to someone who had lost everything in the space of so short a time. Instead, she simply raised a finely crafted brow and offered an expression that suggested: 'you look like you could use this...' as the cup remained outstretched.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
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It had been six days since her eldest son landed in his native land a king. Two weeks since her second born had returned to Midas to tell her what had been found in Megaris. Whilst the Queen was unable to identify the days; the activities that passed between each rise and fall of the sun, she had been able to keep her mind on task and her life busy with responsibility.
It was a strange notion to come to terms with - the death of her husband.
For the King, as beloved as he was to her, was so often away from home throughout the course of their marriage that she had grown used to her life independent of him. Adoring of him, their union had been one of arrangement lucky enough to bloom into true love and affection. But still their worlds had remained very separate due to their genders and their own duties for the kingdom. Which meant that for much of her time across each day, Yanni would simply forget that her husband had passed into the realms of Hades, thinking him simply absent as normal and bound to return in the near future.
In the same way that her life was put on hold until the King's return each time that he went abroad to defend their borders, her grief had been put on hold until such a time where his death could be proven beyond all doubt. Something that was never going to be possible.
Lost at sea and waterlogged, her son had insisted that the body they had returned to Midas was not something she should ever witness. That it had worn his clothes, been aboard his ship, had been protected by his guards, and worn the crown. That this was all she needed to know and that it would only haunt her memories of the man if she was to see what the depths of the Aegean had done to his handsome face.
In truth, the saddest part of all had been that, upon her request at its retrieval, Zanon had been unable to locate the wedding band her husband had always worn. Whilst it was neither necessary nor always traditional for a man to wear a token of his union, it had been Tython's choice to display something that proved their matrimony one of love.
The band had been missing from his hand. Likely washed away by the slickness of his skin beneath the waves and lost for all eternity. Just as the man himself was lost to them forever.
It seemed an additional tragedy to never have the closure of his face at rest, nor to reunite his ring with her one in a sense of finality.
So... it was easy enough to fall into the habits of everyday life, simply assuming the king would one day return through those doors. A useless folly and bizarre when she had spent most of the last six days preparing for the coronation of her son. But it was helping her to bury her emotions for now and keep her mind on track, her responsibilities seen to. So, she could not chastise such a circumstance too much.
When it came to dressing for the formal feast, she had given into the hands of Evras and Athanasia to manage, however, the reality of the situation became all too real and Yanni strengthened her stomach and her will against any sign of emotional weakness. Tython would not have seen her yield or show herself in meek timidity. She was Queen. Whether that was as her husband's wife or in the role of mother to the new king, she still held Queen in her title. And Queen she would be.
In deference to this, she had rejected plans for a black chiton to be prepared and had arranged for something else to be made...
Cut in a regal style across the shoulders, exposing the long and elegant neck that she had inherited from her Taengean blood, the chiton was fastened in place at both shoulders and then was pulled to wrap closely around the frame of her torso and hips, before the material then flare to her feet. The chiton that was cut in the top like a peplos was in an elegant maroon - the same shade as the Kotas family shield - with slices of gossamer chiffon sewn into the silken skirts so that she moved with a cloud like grace. From the line of her breast to her waist and then winding down towards her left knee was an embroidered pattern and design in strands of gold, silver and bronze, interwoven into a floral design that was both femininely detailed but bold in structure. Her arms were left bare by the gown, as was the top half of her back, but she had seen to a chiffon himation in the same colour to be prepared and attached at either shoulder like a short cape, swooping down to the small of her back and covering any exposed skin in a translucent sheen. On each wrist she wore a broad cuff that was detailed in the bears of Kotas but splayed up the forearms in a shape vaguely resembling the antlers of a stag. It was decorated in Colchian blood gems.
Dressed and gowned, the Queen sat upon a provided stood with an embroidered top in order to have her servants fashion her hair. There, she was intensely specific also. Her long, mahogany tresses were twisted and secured into multiple braids all of which came together in a lattice effect similar to that which her daughter would be wearing. There was no frivolity of the style, as Yanni insisted that all locks were secured into place - no trailing curls or feminine additions.
Into the firm updo that have her a stern but authoritative air, she ordered flowers to be fitted. Apple blossoms and agapanthus. The first for sympathy and mourning. The second as a message of deepest love. The two white flowers were woven into the design, predominantly on one side of her head, whilst another of her ladies’ maids saw to making up her face.
The last two weeks - Zanon's announcement upon his return from Megaris, moving her chambers to her parlour, the arrival of Vangelis back in Colchis, the arrangements for the coronation - all of it had had the Queen losing weight and she was surprised how austere her cheekbones now appeared, how dominant her features. She had the lady adjust the powder around her eyes and along her cheeks to ensure a balance and then appraised herself in the shining silver mirror.
With her frame wrapped but her legs swathed, she was elegantly female. With her shoulders topped with fibulae that splayed outwards to mark her stature as Queen and her head bearing the royal crown of Colchis (for she would wear it until Vangelis married and passed it to the next woman in the line of Colchis Queens) she was intensely regal. Her fine stature from her noble upbringing and her life in a land of rock and men had given her a sturdy appearance. A sense of authority and power that her husband had lent to her when first she came to Colchis but which thirty plus years and five children had then claimed for her own.
She was no princess, noblewoman or pretty decoration for the arm of a king. She was no young Queen that had fallen into the role. She was Queen Yanni of Colchis. And had been for over three decades. Her husband's passing changed none of that.
With an assurance that was both her birth and marriage right, Queen Yanni left her chambers and headed through the Kotas manor. Upon gracing the foyer, she found only her son Zanon awaiting her arrival and a short conversation revealed that Silas, Athanasia and Evras had attended ahead of them to ensure the event was ready. Zanon had waited to escort his mother and eldest brother, who had not yet appeared.
"Seek out Vangelis." Yanni instructed her second son, reaching out to place a hand of affection to his cheek. "He will still be working and behind in preparations. I shall attend the Dikastirio now. Journey with him when he is ready." Yanni's thumb rubbed over her second born's cheek, the roughness beneath her touch reminding him that he was a man, no longer her boy. "Your brother is stoic but not made of stone. He will need your strength tonight."
And with a soft smile reserved for Zanon alone, she leant forwards to place a kiss to her grown son's forehead and then left the manor in a sweeping arch of embroidered maroon.
The carriage that was prepared for her was suitable enough for the Queen Mother and Yanni wasted no time in entering alone for all intents and purposes. Her ladies’ maids joined her, as did the guardsman who had been her personal protection for many years. But in terms of her relatives, she was alone in her journey to the Dikastirio, left to her own thoughts as she gazed at the darkening sky above.
Some of the dimming of the light was due to the time of day, as evening slipped into night. But some was due to the heavy and dark clouds swirling above and Yanni watched with a determined gaze as she prayed that Zeus might hold off on the hurricanes and stormy weather of the autumn months for another night...
Yanni's arrival at the feast was hardly a non-event. As each arriving party was announced to the congregation, so too was Queen Yanni's arrival, sending a ripple of awkward quiet across the festivities. Her back remaining straight, her eyes never wavering and her small but appropriate smile remaining in place, the Queen descended into the crowd and began to mingle as was her role as matriarch of the royal house.
Speaking to several different courtiers regarding their latest reports, tax changes and the weather in their provinces - all without missing a step - Yanni was pleased to offer a strong and knowledgeable front for both herself and her house. There was no need for anyone in the room to supposed that the Kotas Dynasteia had been weakened by its recent loss.
Noticing her daughter socialising as best she was able, the Queen smiled at her encouragingly and gave her a nod. If the girl wished to continue striking out on her own socially, she was able, if she wished to join her mother, she could do that also. Until Asia made the choice, Yanni simply offered a look of approval at her attire and her propriety.
When Yanni noticed the Drakos family arriving and attending towards the Leventis who had only recently arrived in Colchis (though Yanni recognised Evelli from their early years in the Taengean courts), the gossip that was the natural blood flow of a court event started to circulate around Lady Tythra's eldest daughter. Keeping her expression calm, as if she had not noticed the hum of activity in the wagging tongues, Yanni simply offered a look towards Tythra as she accepted a chalice of red wine. Sipping from the golden edged rim, her brow rose in question and Tythra's eyes hardened. The sisters-in-law needed few words by this point to communicate.
Moving through the crowds at a slow pace that was halted by different noblemen and woman offering condolences, asking as to the location of the King and suggesting any number of issues or solutions they thought Queen Yanni might be interested in hearing in such a moment, Yanni eventually made her way closer towards the royal dais.
The two thrones that had always previously occupied the space: one for herself and one for King Tython; had been replaced. Instead of two equally dominant chairs of state, her own had been moved backwards, the seat of the monarch shifted forward and a third regal seat set in place to form an arrow point. It was an appropriate layout that she suspected Lady Evras to be responsible for. The King would sit front and centre. His Queen Dowager to one side of him and his crown prince to the other. A reminder that, even with the King unmarried and childless, there were heirs to take his place. It was a message of stability and strength in the Kotas family.
Spotting the arrival of another royal pair - these ones with no thrones or crowns to claim their own - Yanni watched as one of her two houseguests Olympia moved to join her mother. She watched for a moment to ensure that they kept their voices low - the last thing they needed was for the court to go into uproar at the identities of the Kotas family's latest residents - and then turned to the man known as Stephanos who had been left in his wife's wake.
Taking a second cup from a passing server, Yanni took three graceful steps to one side and offered the chalice to the usurped king of Taengea.
Despite her time in Colchis ensuring that the two of them had never met before - for she had been Queen to Tython before Stephanos' birth - Yanni recalled Stephanos' parents with great clarity and had last seen Elise when she was expecting the child that would grow to become Prince Zacharias.
The Queen made no comment or greeting when she offered the cup towards the blonde man no older than her own first born. There was nothing that one could say to someone who had lost everything in the space of so short a time. Instead, she simply raised a finely crafted brow and offered an expression that suggested: 'you look like you could use this...' as the cup remained outstretched.
It had been six days since her eldest son landed in his native land a king. Two weeks since her second born had returned to Midas to tell her what had been found in Megaris. Whilst the Queen was unable to identify the days; the activities that passed between each rise and fall of the sun, she had been able to keep her mind on task and her life busy with responsibility.
It was a strange notion to come to terms with - the death of her husband.
For the King, as beloved as he was to her, was so often away from home throughout the course of their marriage that she had grown used to her life independent of him. Adoring of him, their union had been one of arrangement lucky enough to bloom into true love and affection. But still their worlds had remained very separate due to their genders and their own duties for the kingdom. Which meant that for much of her time across each day, Yanni would simply forget that her husband had passed into the realms of Hades, thinking him simply absent as normal and bound to return in the near future.
In the same way that her life was put on hold until the King's return each time that he went abroad to defend their borders, her grief had been put on hold until such a time where his death could be proven beyond all doubt. Something that was never going to be possible.
Lost at sea and waterlogged, her son had insisted that the body they had returned to Midas was not something she should ever witness. That it had worn his clothes, been aboard his ship, had been protected by his guards, and worn the crown. That this was all she needed to know and that it would only haunt her memories of the man if she was to see what the depths of the Aegean had done to his handsome face.
In truth, the saddest part of all had been that, upon her request at its retrieval, Zanon had been unable to locate the wedding band her husband had always worn. Whilst it was neither necessary nor always traditional for a man to wear a token of his union, it had been Tython's choice to display something that proved their matrimony one of love.
The band had been missing from his hand. Likely washed away by the slickness of his skin beneath the waves and lost for all eternity. Just as the man himself was lost to them forever.
It seemed an additional tragedy to never have the closure of his face at rest, nor to reunite his ring with her one in a sense of finality.
So... it was easy enough to fall into the habits of everyday life, simply assuming the king would one day return through those doors. A useless folly and bizarre when she had spent most of the last six days preparing for the coronation of her son. But it was helping her to bury her emotions for now and keep her mind on track, her responsibilities seen to. So, she could not chastise such a circumstance too much.
When it came to dressing for the formal feast, she had given into the hands of Evras and Athanasia to manage, however, the reality of the situation became all too real and Yanni strengthened her stomach and her will against any sign of emotional weakness. Tython would not have seen her yield or show herself in meek timidity. She was Queen. Whether that was as her husband's wife or in the role of mother to the new king, she still held Queen in her title. And Queen she would be.
In deference to this, she had rejected plans for a black chiton to be prepared and had arranged for something else to be made...
Cut in a regal style across the shoulders, exposing the long and elegant neck that she had inherited from her Taengean blood, the chiton was fastened in place at both shoulders and then was pulled to wrap closely around the frame of her torso and hips, before the material then flare to her feet. The chiton that was cut in the top like a peplos was in an elegant maroon - the same shade as the Kotas family shield - with slices of gossamer chiffon sewn into the silken skirts so that she moved with a cloud like grace. From the line of her breast to her waist and then winding down towards her left knee was an embroidered pattern and design in strands of gold, silver and bronze, interwoven into a floral design that was both femininely detailed but bold in structure. Her arms were left bare by the gown, as was the top half of her back, but she had seen to a chiffon himation in the same colour to be prepared and attached at either shoulder like a short cape, swooping down to the small of her back and covering any exposed skin in a translucent sheen. On each wrist she wore a broad cuff that was detailed in the bears of Kotas but splayed up the forearms in a shape vaguely resembling the antlers of a stag. It was decorated in Colchian blood gems.
Dressed and gowned, the Queen sat upon a provided stood with an embroidered top in order to have her servants fashion her hair. There, she was intensely specific also. Her long, mahogany tresses were twisted and secured into multiple braids all of which came together in a lattice effect similar to that which her daughter would be wearing. There was no frivolity of the style, as Yanni insisted that all locks were secured into place - no trailing curls or feminine additions.
Into the firm updo that have her a stern but authoritative air, she ordered flowers to be fitted. Apple blossoms and agapanthus. The first for sympathy and mourning. The second as a message of deepest love. The two white flowers were woven into the design, predominantly on one side of her head, whilst another of her ladies’ maids saw to making up her face.
The last two weeks - Zanon's announcement upon his return from Megaris, moving her chambers to her parlour, the arrival of Vangelis back in Colchis, the arrangements for the coronation - all of it had had the Queen losing weight and she was surprised how austere her cheekbones now appeared, how dominant her features. She had the lady adjust the powder around her eyes and along her cheeks to ensure a balance and then appraised herself in the shining silver mirror.
With her frame wrapped but her legs swathed, she was elegantly female. With her shoulders topped with fibulae that splayed outwards to mark her stature as Queen and her head bearing the royal crown of Colchis (for she would wear it until Vangelis married and passed it to the next woman in the line of Colchis Queens) she was intensely regal. Her fine stature from her noble upbringing and her life in a land of rock and men had given her a sturdy appearance. A sense of authority and power that her husband had lent to her when first she came to Colchis but which thirty plus years and five children had then claimed for her own.
She was no princess, noblewoman or pretty decoration for the arm of a king. She was no young Queen that had fallen into the role. She was Queen Yanni of Colchis. And had been for over three decades. Her husband's passing changed none of that.
With an assurance that was both her birth and marriage right, Queen Yanni left her chambers and headed through the Kotas manor. Upon gracing the foyer, she found only her son Zanon awaiting her arrival and a short conversation revealed that Silas, Athanasia and Evras had attended ahead of them to ensure the event was ready. Zanon had waited to escort his mother and eldest brother, who had not yet appeared.
"Seek out Vangelis." Yanni instructed her second son, reaching out to place a hand of affection to his cheek. "He will still be working and behind in preparations. I shall attend the Dikastirio now. Journey with him when he is ready." Yanni's thumb rubbed over her second born's cheek, the roughness beneath her touch reminding him that he was a man, no longer her boy. "Your brother is stoic but not made of stone. He will need your strength tonight."
And with a soft smile reserved for Zanon alone, she leant forwards to place a kiss to her grown son's forehead and then left the manor in a sweeping arch of embroidered maroon.
The carriage that was prepared for her was suitable enough for the Queen Mother and Yanni wasted no time in entering alone for all intents and purposes. Her ladies’ maids joined her, as did the guardsman who had been her personal protection for many years. But in terms of her relatives, she was alone in her journey to the Dikastirio, left to her own thoughts as she gazed at the darkening sky above.
Some of the dimming of the light was due to the time of day, as evening slipped into night. But some was due to the heavy and dark clouds swirling above and Yanni watched with a determined gaze as she prayed that Zeus might hold off on the hurricanes and stormy weather of the autumn months for another night...
Yanni's arrival at the feast was hardly a non-event. As each arriving party was announced to the congregation, so too was Queen Yanni's arrival, sending a ripple of awkward quiet across the festivities. Her back remaining straight, her eyes never wavering and her small but appropriate smile remaining in place, the Queen descended into the crowd and began to mingle as was her role as matriarch of the royal house.
Speaking to several different courtiers regarding their latest reports, tax changes and the weather in their provinces - all without missing a step - Yanni was pleased to offer a strong and knowledgeable front for both herself and her house. There was no need for anyone in the room to supposed that the Kotas Dynasteia had been weakened by its recent loss.
Noticing her daughter socialising as best she was able, the Queen smiled at her encouragingly and gave her a nod. If the girl wished to continue striking out on her own socially, she was able, if she wished to join her mother, she could do that also. Until Asia made the choice, Yanni simply offered a look of approval at her attire and her propriety.
When Yanni noticed the Drakos family arriving and attending towards the Leventis who had only recently arrived in Colchis (though Yanni recognised Evelli from their early years in the Taengean courts), the gossip that was the natural blood flow of a court event started to circulate around Lady Tythra's eldest daughter. Keeping her expression calm, as if she had not noticed the hum of activity in the wagging tongues, Yanni simply offered a look towards Tythra as she accepted a chalice of red wine. Sipping from the golden edged rim, her brow rose in question and Tythra's eyes hardened. The sisters-in-law needed few words by this point to communicate.
Moving through the crowds at a slow pace that was halted by different noblemen and woman offering condolences, asking as to the location of the King and suggesting any number of issues or solutions they thought Queen Yanni might be interested in hearing in such a moment, Yanni eventually made her way closer towards the royal dais.
The two thrones that had always previously occupied the space: one for herself and one for King Tython; had been replaced. Instead of two equally dominant chairs of state, her own had been moved backwards, the seat of the monarch shifted forward and a third regal seat set in place to form an arrow point. It was an appropriate layout that she suspected Lady Evras to be responsible for. The King would sit front and centre. His Queen Dowager to one side of him and his crown prince to the other. A reminder that, even with the King unmarried and childless, there were heirs to take his place. It was a message of stability and strength in the Kotas family.
Spotting the arrival of another royal pair - these ones with no thrones or crowns to claim their own - Yanni watched as one of her two houseguests Olympia moved to join her mother. She watched for a moment to ensure that they kept their voices low - the last thing they needed was for the court to go into uproar at the identities of the Kotas family's latest residents - and then turned to the man known as Stephanos who had been left in his wife's wake.
Taking a second cup from a passing server, Yanni took three graceful steps to one side and offered the chalice to the usurped king of Taengea.
Despite her time in Colchis ensuring that the two of them had never met before - for she had been Queen to Tython before Stephanos' birth - Yanni recalled Stephanos' parents with great clarity and had last seen Elise when she was expecting the child that would grow to become Prince Zacharias.
The Queen made no comment or greeting when she offered the cup towards the blonde man no older than her own first born. There was nothing that one could say to someone who had lost everything in the space of so short a time. Instead, she simply raised a finely crafted brow and offered an expression that suggested: 'you look like you could use this...' as the cup remained outstretched.
Maleos stood unaware of his impending greeting by someone he now considered a good friend, instead he continued on with his idle chatter with his father’s longtime friend, reminiscing of childhood days long since passed. The conversation halted as he heard a female voice speak his title, and he had to fight the smile that threatened to give away his feelings at hearing the familiar tone. Maleos excused himself from the conversation with the elderly man as quickly as he could while still being polite and watched as the man turned to wander off in search of someone else to tell stories too.
His attention then turned to Leto, pausing a moment to take in the way she looked. This was the first time he had seen her really dressed up, and he had to admit, she looked beautiful.
His eyes followed her gaze, spotting Silanos as well. He frowned just the tiniest bit at that, surely she was looking at someone else, or perhaps at no one at all and her gaze had just happened to move that way. He did not like the idea of Silanos being any where around her. She did not need to fall under the influence of a man such as him.
"It seems we can not escape each other’s company, my lady." He agreed, keeping his voice a bit lower as he did not particularly want anyone to listen to their conversation. He had to agree with her, it was a relief to have heard her voice as she approached him, glad for the chance at conversation with someone he knew that would prove interesting.
"I agree. I feared I was fated for a night of boring conversations with nobles who have no clue who I am." He said, the tiniest hint of a smile pulled at the corner of his lips.
"Perhaps I can improve upon your night a little more with the offer of a cup of wine?" He asked, knowing that some where there would be wine available for the night’s guests. He was not one to drink overly much, but he did enjoy a cup or two here and there, and he thought that it was as good of a night as any to try and enjoy himself. At least with the present company, it would be more enjoyable than previously thought.
Though he was not sure how long he could keep her attentions before one of them was whisked away into conversation with some other guest. He supposed that it was more likely that she would be required else where than he would, as he couldn’t imagine that anyone in attendance would know who he was or care to know.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Maleos stood unaware of his impending greeting by someone he now considered a good friend, instead he continued on with his idle chatter with his father’s longtime friend, reminiscing of childhood days long since passed. The conversation halted as he heard a female voice speak his title, and he had to fight the smile that threatened to give away his feelings at hearing the familiar tone. Maleos excused himself from the conversation with the elderly man as quickly as he could while still being polite and watched as the man turned to wander off in search of someone else to tell stories too.
His attention then turned to Leto, pausing a moment to take in the way she looked. This was the first time he had seen her really dressed up, and he had to admit, she looked beautiful.
His eyes followed her gaze, spotting Silanos as well. He frowned just the tiniest bit at that, surely she was looking at someone else, or perhaps at no one at all and her gaze had just happened to move that way. He did not like the idea of Silanos being any where around her. She did not need to fall under the influence of a man such as him.
"It seems we can not escape each other’s company, my lady." He agreed, keeping his voice a bit lower as he did not particularly want anyone to listen to their conversation. He had to agree with her, it was a relief to have heard her voice as she approached him, glad for the chance at conversation with someone he knew that would prove interesting.
"I agree. I feared I was fated for a night of boring conversations with nobles who have no clue who I am." He said, the tiniest hint of a smile pulled at the corner of his lips.
"Perhaps I can improve upon your night a little more with the offer of a cup of wine?" He asked, knowing that some where there would be wine available for the night’s guests. He was not one to drink overly much, but he did enjoy a cup or two here and there, and he thought that it was as good of a night as any to try and enjoy himself. At least with the present company, it would be more enjoyable than previously thought.
Though he was not sure how long he could keep her attentions before one of them was whisked away into conversation with some other guest. He supposed that it was more likely that she would be required else where than he would, as he couldn’t imagine that anyone in attendance would know who he was or care to know.
Maleos stood unaware of his impending greeting by someone he now considered a good friend, instead he continued on with his idle chatter with his father’s longtime friend, reminiscing of childhood days long since passed. The conversation halted as he heard a female voice speak his title, and he had to fight the smile that threatened to give away his feelings at hearing the familiar tone. Maleos excused himself from the conversation with the elderly man as quickly as he could while still being polite and watched as the man turned to wander off in search of someone else to tell stories too.
His attention then turned to Leto, pausing a moment to take in the way she looked. This was the first time he had seen her really dressed up, and he had to admit, she looked beautiful.
His eyes followed her gaze, spotting Silanos as well. He frowned just the tiniest bit at that, surely she was looking at someone else, or perhaps at no one at all and her gaze had just happened to move that way. He did not like the idea of Silanos being any where around her. She did not need to fall under the influence of a man such as him.
"It seems we can not escape each other’s company, my lady." He agreed, keeping his voice a bit lower as he did not particularly want anyone to listen to their conversation. He had to agree with her, it was a relief to have heard her voice as she approached him, glad for the chance at conversation with someone he knew that would prove interesting.
"I agree. I feared I was fated for a night of boring conversations with nobles who have no clue who I am." He said, the tiniest hint of a smile pulled at the corner of his lips.
"Perhaps I can improve upon your night a little more with the offer of a cup of wine?" He asked, knowing that some where there would be wine available for the night’s guests. He was not one to drink overly much, but he did enjoy a cup or two here and there, and he thought that it was as good of a night as any to try and enjoy himself. At least with the present company, it would be more enjoyable than previously thought.
Though he was not sure how long he could keep her attentions before one of them was whisked away into conversation with some other guest. He supposed that it was more likely that she would be required else where than he would, as he couldn’t imagine that anyone in attendance would know who he was or care to know.
Arriving at the Dikastrio, if one believed hard enough, one could almost think this was like any other regular court session her husband's family hosted on a biweekly basis, if not every week. Queen Yanni would hold court, and the nobility and royalty would update each other news via the very trustworthy vessel of gossip, before the night ended and everyone went home until the next session.
But it wouldn't be so.
After the morning trip to the temples with a surprising amount of people, Evras had spent the rest of the day in preparation for the night's events, even ignoring the occasional twinges in her abdomen. Finally giving in and making a mental note to call for the royal physician on the morrow, Evras winced when her father snapped at her once he arrived, and then followed her father's gaze, before realizing what she was doing and responding to him. "He's busy, Father. Zanon's acting as the new King's second in command now, remember?"
Her chest ached a little as she spoke, for even as she said it, she understood how odd it was for her to be greeting her family alone - yet Zanon had never taken to the Thanasi's, even after marrying her. Sure, he loved Dion dearly and doted on her, but other then Thea (who only got the barest amount of tolerance), Zanon outwardly spurned the rest of her siblings and her father. The fact that he had been so busy and Evras had hardly seen him of late merely added on to the slight melancholy she felt, especially when the latest news she had to tell him could only be told to him via a written note, since they had both been separately swamped with duties the whole day.
She didn't understand why Nethis wanted the throne so much. It was too much work.
Nodding sedately to her father's requests to calm Dionysios's mood swings, Evras led the elder man in to the main hall of the Dikastrio, cane and all, as her eyes automatically swept across the hall to ensure all was ready - from the food and drinks being served to all, to the arrangement of the chairs which had to be changed with the change in power. Glancing behind to check on her siblings, she murmured to Thea and Nethis, "Vangelis has yet to arrive. What do we do with Father?" she asked. She doubted Dionysios would believe her, or if she could even convince him that Vangelis had yet to arrive, and it didn't help that her abdomen had a funny feeling yet to abate, and a look of worry was slowly beginning to creep on her face even despite her regal trappings adorning her face and body.
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Arriving at the Dikastrio, if one believed hard enough, one could almost think this was like any other regular court session her husband's family hosted on a biweekly basis, if not every week. Queen Yanni would hold court, and the nobility and royalty would update each other news via the very trustworthy vessel of gossip, before the night ended and everyone went home until the next session.
But it wouldn't be so.
After the morning trip to the temples with a surprising amount of people, Evras had spent the rest of the day in preparation for the night's events, even ignoring the occasional twinges in her abdomen. Finally giving in and making a mental note to call for the royal physician on the morrow, Evras winced when her father snapped at her once he arrived, and then followed her father's gaze, before realizing what she was doing and responding to him. "He's busy, Father. Zanon's acting as the new King's second in command now, remember?"
Her chest ached a little as she spoke, for even as she said it, she understood how odd it was for her to be greeting her family alone - yet Zanon had never taken to the Thanasi's, even after marrying her. Sure, he loved Dion dearly and doted on her, but other then Thea (who only got the barest amount of tolerance), Zanon outwardly spurned the rest of her siblings and her father. The fact that he had been so busy and Evras had hardly seen him of late merely added on to the slight melancholy she felt, especially when the latest news she had to tell him could only be told to him via a written note, since they had both been separately swamped with duties the whole day.
She didn't understand why Nethis wanted the throne so much. It was too much work.
Nodding sedately to her father's requests to calm Dionysios's mood swings, Evras led the elder man in to the main hall of the Dikastrio, cane and all, as her eyes automatically swept across the hall to ensure all was ready - from the food and drinks being served to all, to the arrangement of the chairs which had to be changed with the change in power. Glancing behind to check on her siblings, she murmured to Thea and Nethis, "Vangelis has yet to arrive. What do we do with Father?" she asked. She doubted Dionysios would believe her, or if she could even convince him that Vangelis had yet to arrive, and it didn't help that her abdomen had a funny feeling yet to abate, and a look of worry was slowly beginning to creep on her face even despite her regal trappings adorning her face and body.
Arriving at the Dikastrio, if one believed hard enough, one could almost think this was like any other regular court session her husband's family hosted on a biweekly basis, if not every week. Queen Yanni would hold court, and the nobility and royalty would update each other news via the very trustworthy vessel of gossip, before the night ended and everyone went home until the next session.
But it wouldn't be so.
After the morning trip to the temples with a surprising amount of people, Evras had spent the rest of the day in preparation for the night's events, even ignoring the occasional twinges in her abdomen. Finally giving in and making a mental note to call for the royal physician on the morrow, Evras winced when her father snapped at her once he arrived, and then followed her father's gaze, before realizing what she was doing and responding to him. "He's busy, Father. Zanon's acting as the new King's second in command now, remember?"
Her chest ached a little as she spoke, for even as she said it, she understood how odd it was for her to be greeting her family alone - yet Zanon had never taken to the Thanasi's, even after marrying her. Sure, he loved Dion dearly and doted on her, but other then Thea (who only got the barest amount of tolerance), Zanon outwardly spurned the rest of her siblings and her father. The fact that he had been so busy and Evras had hardly seen him of late merely added on to the slight melancholy she felt, especially when the latest news she had to tell him could only be told to him via a written note, since they had both been separately swamped with duties the whole day.
She didn't understand why Nethis wanted the throne so much. It was too much work.
Nodding sedately to her father's requests to calm Dionysios's mood swings, Evras led the elder man in to the main hall of the Dikastrio, cane and all, as her eyes automatically swept across the hall to ensure all was ready - from the food and drinks being served to all, to the arrangement of the chairs which had to be changed with the change in power. Glancing behind to check on her siblings, she murmured to Thea and Nethis, "Vangelis has yet to arrive. What do we do with Father?" she asked. She doubted Dionysios would believe her, or if she could even convince him that Vangelis had yet to arrive, and it didn't help that her abdomen had a funny feeling yet to abate, and a look of worry was slowly beginning to creep on her face even despite her regal trappings adorning her face and body.
The soft voice of her eldest had her turning her head, and Evelli smiled at her blonde daughter's praise. She could say the same for her daughter, for Selene had not been rumored to have been blessed by Aphrodite for nothing. The Leventi girl's were famed in Taengea for being diamonds and grand catches to anyone who caught their eye, and it was why Evelli held such strict standards as to who would qualify to marry one of her precious offspring.
Now that she had finally found one who would qualify, the idiot merely needed to open his eyes, something which Evelli hoped to expound upon him in her short time upon Colchian soil.
"So do you, Lene." she murmured in return. Nana's comment had Evelli's brow raised, but she sighed and made no response. While Evelli was not happy with the way Nana had been treating her eldest sister of late, the trip to Colchis was not even halfway through, and Evelli did not wish to start a row so early into what was meant to be a positive trip. Instead, the woman let it slide with a pointed look that told Nana she and Evelli would have words later, before letting her gaze slide back to Selene. "Where is Pia? I wish to see her." It was no secret afterall. The whole reason why Evelli had journeyed over a week on Poseidon's domain, suffering intense sea-sickness, was for her first grandchild and daughter, and she definitely did not come here for revelry and a grand time.
It would appear however, that the Gods heard her prayers. Evelli did not manage to further her interrogation to Selen on Olympia's current condition when the voice she very much wanted to hear at that very point in time made itself hurt, and Evelli turned faster then a spinning top just in time to intercept Olympia as she tossed herself around her mother.
Evelli had not noticed right up till that very point, how very tightly she had wound herself up over worrying over Olympia and her newborn child, and how had it happened over the sea. Selene's missive left to her a brief explanation that was in no way sufficient, and Evelli's overimagination had drawn up many, various different possibilities that had left her unable to sleep many nights. To be able to see Olympia well and able to at least walk in front of her now, was enough to lift half the heavy rock off her chest as she wrapped her arms around Olympia to form a protective cocoon, hugging her tightly as she stroked the top of Oympia's head.
"Why are you sorry, sweet pea?" she cooed, peeling back a little to peer at her third daughter's eyes, as if doing so would tell her all that had transpired. Noting the dark eye bags, the tired look, Evelli frowned. The woman brushed the few brunette tendrils so similr to hers, cupping Olympia's cheek as she asked in qucik succession. "How have you been? How is the baby? Have you been well taken care of? Do you need anything?"
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The soft voice of her eldest had her turning her head, and Evelli smiled at her blonde daughter's praise. She could say the same for her daughter, for Selene had not been rumored to have been blessed by Aphrodite for nothing. The Leventi girl's were famed in Taengea for being diamonds and grand catches to anyone who caught their eye, and it was why Evelli held such strict standards as to who would qualify to marry one of her precious offspring.
Now that she had finally found one who would qualify, the idiot merely needed to open his eyes, something which Evelli hoped to expound upon him in her short time upon Colchian soil.
"So do you, Lene." she murmured in return. Nana's comment had Evelli's brow raised, but she sighed and made no response. While Evelli was not happy with the way Nana had been treating her eldest sister of late, the trip to Colchis was not even halfway through, and Evelli did not wish to start a row so early into what was meant to be a positive trip. Instead, the woman let it slide with a pointed look that told Nana she and Evelli would have words later, before letting her gaze slide back to Selene. "Where is Pia? I wish to see her." It was no secret afterall. The whole reason why Evelli had journeyed over a week on Poseidon's domain, suffering intense sea-sickness, was for her first grandchild and daughter, and she definitely did not come here for revelry and a grand time.
It would appear however, that the Gods heard her prayers. Evelli did not manage to further her interrogation to Selen on Olympia's current condition when the voice she very much wanted to hear at that very point in time made itself hurt, and Evelli turned faster then a spinning top just in time to intercept Olympia as she tossed herself around her mother.
Evelli had not noticed right up till that very point, how very tightly she had wound herself up over worrying over Olympia and her newborn child, and how had it happened over the sea. Selene's missive left to her a brief explanation that was in no way sufficient, and Evelli's overimagination had drawn up many, various different possibilities that had left her unable to sleep many nights. To be able to see Olympia well and able to at least walk in front of her now, was enough to lift half the heavy rock off her chest as she wrapped her arms around Olympia to form a protective cocoon, hugging her tightly as she stroked the top of Oympia's head.
"Why are you sorry, sweet pea?" she cooed, peeling back a little to peer at her third daughter's eyes, as if doing so would tell her all that had transpired. Noting the dark eye bags, the tired look, Evelli frowned. The woman brushed the few brunette tendrils so similr to hers, cupping Olympia's cheek as she asked in qucik succession. "How have you been? How is the baby? Have you been well taken care of? Do you need anything?"
The soft voice of her eldest had her turning her head, and Evelli smiled at her blonde daughter's praise. She could say the same for her daughter, for Selene had not been rumored to have been blessed by Aphrodite for nothing. The Leventi girl's were famed in Taengea for being diamonds and grand catches to anyone who caught their eye, and it was why Evelli held such strict standards as to who would qualify to marry one of her precious offspring.
Now that she had finally found one who would qualify, the idiot merely needed to open his eyes, something which Evelli hoped to expound upon him in her short time upon Colchian soil.
"So do you, Lene." she murmured in return. Nana's comment had Evelli's brow raised, but she sighed and made no response. While Evelli was not happy with the way Nana had been treating her eldest sister of late, the trip to Colchis was not even halfway through, and Evelli did not wish to start a row so early into what was meant to be a positive trip. Instead, the woman let it slide with a pointed look that told Nana she and Evelli would have words later, before letting her gaze slide back to Selene. "Where is Pia? I wish to see her." It was no secret afterall. The whole reason why Evelli had journeyed over a week on Poseidon's domain, suffering intense sea-sickness, was for her first grandchild and daughter, and she definitely did not come here for revelry and a grand time.
It would appear however, that the Gods heard her prayers. Evelli did not manage to further her interrogation to Selen on Olympia's current condition when the voice she very much wanted to hear at that very point in time made itself hurt, and Evelli turned faster then a spinning top just in time to intercept Olympia as she tossed herself around her mother.
Evelli had not noticed right up till that very point, how very tightly she had wound herself up over worrying over Olympia and her newborn child, and how had it happened over the sea. Selene's missive left to her a brief explanation that was in no way sufficient, and Evelli's overimagination had drawn up many, various different possibilities that had left her unable to sleep many nights. To be able to see Olympia well and able to at least walk in front of her now, was enough to lift half the heavy rock off her chest as she wrapped her arms around Olympia to form a protective cocoon, hugging her tightly as she stroked the top of Oympia's head.
"Why are you sorry, sweet pea?" she cooed, peeling back a little to peer at her third daughter's eyes, as if doing so would tell her all that had transpired. Noting the dark eye bags, the tired look, Evelli frowned. The woman brushed the few brunette tendrils so similr to hers, cupping Olympia's cheek as she asked in qucik succession. "How have you been? How is the baby? Have you been well taken care of? Do you need anything?"
Timaeus didn’t know what the other girl would see in this baron wrapped in a white and maroon chiton, the colors of his house. But it was something as the two of them were each playing hard-to-get in their little ways.
Although, Timaeus could not speak for her, whenever a light laugh would lift above the crowd and instinctively Timaeus’s eyes would drift away from the Kotas Prince to the blonde stranger to see if the noise was from her. A flash of lilac out of the corner of his eye would move just a bit and his attention was lost once again. It was like an odd sort of game the two of them were playing. How many subtle ways could they capture the other’s attention and she was winning. It was almost pathetic how Timaeus couldn’t seem to focus on anything, but catching her gaze to only duck his head with a light blush blooming on his cheeks, proclaiming his guilt of staring too long at a treasure that wasn’t meant to be seen by the rough likes of him. Little did he know that she too was also enthralled by this cat and mouse charade between them, though not as deeply as him.
He was also not discreet about it. The other prince in front of him knew from the first glance Tim had thrown in the girl’s direction that all sense of reason had left the Valaoritis in favor of drinking in the image of this foreign beauty. To Silas’s credit, at first, he was polite about it and ignored what the Baron was doing. He continued the conversation about the upcoming war as if nothing was wrong… but there was a point where he had to put his poor friend out of his misery but abruptly changing the topic with a slight smirk upon his face, “ You are the furthest thing from subtle, I hope you know. ”
Timaeus whipped his head around to face him, breaking eye contact with the blonde for the second time. For a solid moment, they had both caught each other’s gaze and he was able to get a glimpse of her gorgeous eyes, seeing that they were a warm brown for the first time. It was great until Silas had to ruin it.
“ I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Timaeus instantly retorted, trying to act as if nothing was amiss despite the heat growing below. His tone was strained, trying to summon a nonchalance that he simply didn’t have at that moment as he tried to not think about the pretty girl and how wonderful it would be to at least talk to her even though he knew that it was far from his place to approach someone like her with his eyes so clearly darkening.
Silas saw right through the lie and laughed at his friend, causing a scowl to form on Timaeus’s face as he turned his back to the girl so she might not see his embarrassment. “ Oh come off it. You’re making a fool of yourself,” The jab stung a bit, but the Prince was quick to reassure the Eubocrisian that he was far from the only one staring at her, especially as more young women started to gather around the two women in the lilac dresses, “ You’re not the only one though. Those Leventis can’t go anywhere without a crowd forming.” Silas pointed at several other senators, lords, and captains scattered about the room all similarly slack-jawed about the room as they all regarded the jewels of Taengea within their courts.
However, Timaeus was less focused on the fact that he wasn’t the only one who was staring and was instead far more interested in the name that Silas just uttered. He looked at his friend with a dumbfounded look on his face, completely stunned by that one simple word he had uttered, “ Leventi?! They’re here?”
Everyone and their great-grandfather knew who the Leventi’s were. The Taengean dynasty was well-known throughout the region for producing horses that outshone any other as well as raising daughters whose beauty could almost rival Aphrodite. Almost. It was the dream of every man in Greece to own one of their steeds and marry one of the girls. However, prestige came at a price and both were unattainable to even the likes of Timaeus. His heart fell at the revelation of who this girl was and how he instantly knew that no matter how many time their gazes met, it would be a miracle if the two would even exchange pleasantries as he had with the girl’s sister all those months ago. Nevermind all the other things that his lust was making him think.
Little did he know though that he was underestimating the allure that he had and how his Kotas-like looks were giving him quite a substantial chance in her mind.
Silas nodded in confirmation but didn’t elaborate further. Instead, the Kotas boy glanced over at the Leventi and recognized that she was going to give Tim an opportunity that he was quickly throwing away. Quickly, the prince tried to dispel the wordless acceptance of failure by encouraging the Baron, “ You may look ridiculous, but I think it’s working.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but it was loud enough to encourage Tim to glance over at her and catch her gaze one last time. His pace quickened as neither of them looked away as she looked at him with a certain fire in her eyes, almost daring him to look away and he doubted that he had the willpower for such a thing. Not when she was so thoroughly exploiting his weakness for pretty girls who didn’t have that standard Colchian look. It seemed like the rest of the room blurred away. Tim even forgot about Silas standing beside him, grinning like an idiot as he watched the standoff occur.
However, he wasn’t breathless until she arched her eyebrow, silently inviting him to cross the room to speak to her. That simply knocked the wind out of him, replacing it with an explosion of butterflies deep within his chest and another rush of heat. He had half the mind to accept and cross the room to her. To introduce himself to her and the other Leventi women surrounding her, but his lack of confidence in how he would stack up to the family who was very clearly after thrones for their girls kept him rooted in place. His indecision on what to do lasted long enough for the spell to be broken by Silas howling with laughter and grabbing Tim by the shoulder in a friendly way, just a bit too joyous with the scene before him as if this was the most entertaining thing that he had done in weeks. Which it probably was.
“ Not a word and yet she’s got you wrapped around her finger.” The Prince said amid side-splitting laughter. He lightly shoved the Baron forward, completely blind to how his friend thought that even being a Baron was not enough for the likes of her, as he said, “ Go say hello before you lose your chance.”
Timaeus was about to protest, but another courtier called for Silas’s attention. Taking the cue as his chance to leave, the prince sauntered off, leaving Tim alone to go say hi. But even after he left, the Baron couldn’t seem to move his own feet. He was stuck to where he was and the best he could do was look back at the girl and in a moment of reckless thought, motioned with his head for the girl to come and talk to him as he turned away for a moment to see if he could flag down a servant to grab two goblets of wine. One for his nerves and the other for the girl.
He couldn’t believe that he had done such a thing and resisted the urge to turn about when the soft swaying of fabric seemed to draw closer to him, not daring to hope that was her as he had no idea what he would say or do if it was.
However, he needed to figure it out soon as there was no way in hades that the likes of Nana were going to let him slip out of her fingers now that he was so utterly trapped in her web.
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Timaeus didn’t know what the other girl would see in this baron wrapped in a white and maroon chiton, the colors of his house. But it was something as the two of them were each playing hard-to-get in their little ways.
Although, Timaeus could not speak for her, whenever a light laugh would lift above the crowd and instinctively Timaeus’s eyes would drift away from the Kotas Prince to the blonde stranger to see if the noise was from her. A flash of lilac out of the corner of his eye would move just a bit and his attention was lost once again. It was like an odd sort of game the two of them were playing. How many subtle ways could they capture the other’s attention and she was winning. It was almost pathetic how Timaeus couldn’t seem to focus on anything, but catching her gaze to only duck his head with a light blush blooming on his cheeks, proclaiming his guilt of staring too long at a treasure that wasn’t meant to be seen by the rough likes of him. Little did he know that she too was also enthralled by this cat and mouse charade between them, though not as deeply as him.
He was also not discreet about it. The other prince in front of him knew from the first glance Tim had thrown in the girl’s direction that all sense of reason had left the Valaoritis in favor of drinking in the image of this foreign beauty. To Silas’s credit, at first, he was polite about it and ignored what the Baron was doing. He continued the conversation about the upcoming war as if nothing was wrong… but there was a point where he had to put his poor friend out of his misery but abruptly changing the topic with a slight smirk upon his face, “ You are the furthest thing from subtle, I hope you know. ”
Timaeus whipped his head around to face him, breaking eye contact with the blonde for the second time. For a solid moment, they had both caught each other’s gaze and he was able to get a glimpse of her gorgeous eyes, seeing that they were a warm brown for the first time. It was great until Silas had to ruin it.
“ I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Timaeus instantly retorted, trying to act as if nothing was amiss despite the heat growing below. His tone was strained, trying to summon a nonchalance that he simply didn’t have at that moment as he tried to not think about the pretty girl and how wonderful it would be to at least talk to her even though he knew that it was far from his place to approach someone like her with his eyes so clearly darkening.
Silas saw right through the lie and laughed at his friend, causing a scowl to form on Timaeus’s face as he turned his back to the girl so she might not see his embarrassment. “ Oh come off it. You’re making a fool of yourself,” The jab stung a bit, but the Prince was quick to reassure the Eubocrisian that he was far from the only one staring at her, especially as more young women started to gather around the two women in the lilac dresses, “ You’re not the only one though. Those Leventis can’t go anywhere without a crowd forming.” Silas pointed at several other senators, lords, and captains scattered about the room all similarly slack-jawed about the room as they all regarded the jewels of Taengea within their courts.
However, Timaeus was less focused on the fact that he wasn’t the only one who was staring and was instead far more interested in the name that Silas just uttered. He looked at his friend with a dumbfounded look on his face, completely stunned by that one simple word he had uttered, “ Leventi?! They’re here?”
Everyone and their great-grandfather knew who the Leventi’s were. The Taengean dynasty was well-known throughout the region for producing horses that outshone any other as well as raising daughters whose beauty could almost rival Aphrodite. Almost. It was the dream of every man in Greece to own one of their steeds and marry one of the girls. However, prestige came at a price and both were unattainable to even the likes of Timaeus. His heart fell at the revelation of who this girl was and how he instantly knew that no matter how many time their gazes met, it would be a miracle if the two would even exchange pleasantries as he had with the girl’s sister all those months ago. Nevermind all the other things that his lust was making him think.
Little did he know though that he was underestimating the allure that he had and how his Kotas-like looks were giving him quite a substantial chance in her mind.
Silas nodded in confirmation but didn’t elaborate further. Instead, the Kotas boy glanced over at the Leventi and recognized that she was going to give Tim an opportunity that he was quickly throwing away. Quickly, the prince tried to dispel the wordless acceptance of failure by encouraging the Baron, “ You may look ridiculous, but I think it’s working.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but it was loud enough to encourage Tim to glance over at her and catch her gaze one last time. His pace quickened as neither of them looked away as she looked at him with a certain fire in her eyes, almost daring him to look away and he doubted that he had the willpower for such a thing. Not when she was so thoroughly exploiting his weakness for pretty girls who didn’t have that standard Colchian look. It seemed like the rest of the room blurred away. Tim even forgot about Silas standing beside him, grinning like an idiot as he watched the standoff occur.
However, he wasn’t breathless until she arched her eyebrow, silently inviting him to cross the room to speak to her. That simply knocked the wind out of him, replacing it with an explosion of butterflies deep within his chest and another rush of heat. He had half the mind to accept and cross the room to her. To introduce himself to her and the other Leventi women surrounding her, but his lack of confidence in how he would stack up to the family who was very clearly after thrones for their girls kept him rooted in place. His indecision on what to do lasted long enough for the spell to be broken by Silas howling with laughter and grabbing Tim by the shoulder in a friendly way, just a bit too joyous with the scene before him as if this was the most entertaining thing that he had done in weeks. Which it probably was.
“ Not a word and yet she’s got you wrapped around her finger.” The Prince said amid side-splitting laughter. He lightly shoved the Baron forward, completely blind to how his friend thought that even being a Baron was not enough for the likes of her, as he said, “ Go say hello before you lose your chance.”
Timaeus was about to protest, but another courtier called for Silas’s attention. Taking the cue as his chance to leave, the prince sauntered off, leaving Tim alone to go say hi. But even after he left, the Baron couldn’t seem to move his own feet. He was stuck to where he was and the best he could do was look back at the girl and in a moment of reckless thought, motioned with his head for the girl to come and talk to him as he turned away for a moment to see if he could flag down a servant to grab two goblets of wine. One for his nerves and the other for the girl.
He couldn’t believe that he had done such a thing and resisted the urge to turn about when the soft swaying of fabric seemed to draw closer to him, not daring to hope that was her as he had no idea what he would say or do if it was.
However, he needed to figure it out soon as there was no way in hades that the likes of Nana were going to let him slip out of her fingers now that he was so utterly trapped in her web.
Timaeus didn’t know what the other girl would see in this baron wrapped in a white and maroon chiton, the colors of his house. But it was something as the two of them were each playing hard-to-get in their little ways.
Although, Timaeus could not speak for her, whenever a light laugh would lift above the crowd and instinctively Timaeus’s eyes would drift away from the Kotas Prince to the blonde stranger to see if the noise was from her. A flash of lilac out of the corner of his eye would move just a bit and his attention was lost once again. It was like an odd sort of game the two of them were playing. How many subtle ways could they capture the other’s attention and she was winning. It was almost pathetic how Timaeus couldn’t seem to focus on anything, but catching her gaze to only duck his head with a light blush blooming on his cheeks, proclaiming his guilt of staring too long at a treasure that wasn’t meant to be seen by the rough likes of him. Little did he know that she too was also enthralled by this cat and mouse charade between them, though not as deeply as him.
He was also not discreet about it. The other prince in front of him knew from the first glance Tim had thrown in the girl’s direction that all sense of reason had left the Valaoritis in favor of drinking in the image of this foreign beauty. To Silas’s credit, at first, he was polite about it and ignored what the Baron was doing. He continued the conversation about the upcoming war as if nothing was wrong… but there was a point where he had to put his poor friend out of his misery but abruptly changing the topic with a slight smirk upon his face, “ You are the furthest thing from subtle, I hope you know. ”
Timaeus whipped his head around to face him, breaking eye contact with the blonde for the second time. For a solid moment, they had both caught each other’s gaze and he was able to get a glimpse of her gorgeous eyes, seeing that they were a warm brown for the first time. It was great until Silas had to ruin it.
“ I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Timaeus instantly retorted, trying to act as if nothing was amiss despite the heat growing below. His tone was strained, trying to summon a nonchalance that he simply didn’t have at that moment as he tried to not think about the pretty girl and how wonderful it would be to at least talk to her even though he knew that it was far from his place to approach someone like her with his eyes so clearly darkening.
Silas saw right through the lie and laughed at his friend, causing a scowl to form on Timaeus’s face as he turned his back to the girl so she might not see his embarrassment. “ Oh come off it. You’re making a fool of yourself,” The jab stung a bit, but the Prince was quick to reassure the Eubocrisian that he was far from the only one staring at her, especially as more young women started to gather around the two women in the lilac dresses, “ You’re not the only one though. Those Leventis can’t go anywhere without a crowd forming.” Silas pointed at several other senators, lords, and captains scattered about the room all similarly slack-jawed about the room as they all regarded the jewels of Taengea within their courts.
However, Timaeus was less focused on the fact that he wasn’t the only one who was staring and was instead far more interested in the name that Silas just uttered. He looked at his friend with a dumbfounded look on his face, completely stunned by that one simple word he had uttered, “ Leventi?! They’re here?”
Everyone and their great-grandfather knew who the Leventi’s were. The Taengean dynasty was well-known throughout the region for producing horses that outshone any other as well as raising daughters whose beauty could almost rival Aphrodite. Almost. It was the dream of every man in Greece to own one of their steeds and marry one of the girls. However, prestige came at a price and both were unattainable to even the likes of Timaeus. His heart fell at the revelation of who this girl was and how he instantly knew that no matter how many time their gazes met, it would be a miracle if the two would even exchange pleasantries as he had with the girl’s sister all those months ago. Nevermind all the other things that his lust was making him think.
Little did he know though that he was underestimating the allure that he had and how his Kotas-like looks were giving him quite a substantial chance in her mind.
Silas nodded in confirmation but didn’t elaborate further. Instead, the Kotas boy glanced over at the Leventi and recognized that she was going to give Tim an opportunity that he was quickly throwing away. Quickly, the prince tried to dispel the wordless acceptance of failure by encouraging the Baron, “ You may look ridiculous, but I think it’s working.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but it was loud enough to encourage Tim to glance over at her and catch her gaze one last time. His pace quickened as neither of them looked away as she looked at him with a certain fire in her eyes, almost daring him to look away and he doubted that he had the willpower for such a thing. Not when she was so thoroughly exploiting his weakness for pretty girls who didn’t have that standard Colchian look. It seemed like the rest of the room blurred away. Tim even forgot about Silas standing beside him, grinning like an idiot as he watched the standoff occur.
However, he wasn’t breathless until she arched her eyebrow, silently inviting him to cross the room to speak to her. That simply knocked the wind out of him, replacing it with an explosion of butterflies deep within his chest and another rush of heat. He had half the mind to accept and cross the room to her. To introduce himself to her and the other Leventi women surrounding her, but his lack of confidence in how he would stack up to the family who was very clearly after thrones for their girls kept him rooted in place. His indecision on what to do lasted long enough for the spell to be broken by Silas howling with laughter and grabbing Tim by the shoulder in a friendly way, just a bit too joyous with the scene before him as if this was the most entertaining thing that he had done in weeks. Which it probably was.
“ Not a word and yet she’s got you wrapped around her finger.” The Prince said amid side-splitting laughter. He lightly shoved the Baron forward, completely blind to how his friend thought that even being a Baron was not enough for the likes of her, as he said, “ Go say hello before you lose your chance.”
Timaeus was about to protest, but another courtier called for Silas’s attention. Taking the cue as his chance to leave, the prince sauntered off, leaving Tim alone to go say hi. But even after he left, the Baron couldn’t seem to move his own feet. He was stuck to where he was and the best he could do was look back at the girl and in a moment of reckless thought, motioned with his head for the girl to come and talk to him as he turned away for a moment to see if he could flag down a servant to grab two goblets of wine. One for his nerves and the other for the girl.
He couldn’t believe that he had done such a thing and resisted the urge to turn about when the soft swaying of fabric seemed to draw closer to him, not daring to hope that was her as he had no idea what he would say or do if it was.
However, he needed to figure it out soon as there was no way in hades that the likes of Nana were going to let him slip out of her fingers now that he was so utterly trapped in her web.
He did not breeze into the room like he normally would have. In the borrowed chiton, he felt out of place. It was a deep red and longer than he usually wore. It was also not fastened with any clasp that he usually wore. This one was plain and while it was definitely fit for a prince, it wasn’t what Stephanos wanted. Or, he reflected, maybe it was. Tonight, he was content to be no one at all. That was definitely better than being himself.
Following Pia, he kept his hands fixed behind his back as she tore away from him to fling herself on her mother, like they were at home and not in the middle of a crowd. He chewed the inside of his cheek, watching them but he didn’t follow. He did not want to speak to anyone from Taengea, least of all Nana or Evelli. Neither of them had anything to say that he wanted to hear.
He’d looked around, spotting both Imeeya and Athanasia. His plan was to go and sit with them but Imeeya was now too close to his in laws and he’d lost Athanasia in the crowd somewhere. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Queen Yanni rising from her dias but it didn’t occur to him that she was heading this way. His stony expression remained unchecked until he perceived her close enough to him that she was within speaking distance.
Just as he turned his attention to her, he found her offering him a chalice. He stared at it for a fraction of a second before his fingers curled around the stem and he took it from her with a shallow bow. “Thank you, your majesty,” he said and then buried anything else he wanted to say by drinking from the cup. Though he had never met Queen Yanni, there was no mistaking who this was. She was dressed too well and too elegantly, not to mention shared features with both Vangelis and Lord Gavriil. He felt as though he knew her a little without knowing her at all.
After a moment, he cleared his throat, keeping his eyes locked on her face. “Your kingdom has suffered a great loss, but I trust gained someone as capable to the throne as the late king. I’m sorry the gods have been so cruel as to take him from you.”
There was no way on this earth that he wasn’t going to let slide her own loss. He was not too wrapped up in his own losses to recognize that other people had suffered more recent tragedies than he had. Olympia had not been dragged from him but he felt like he’d lost her nonetheless. At the moment, he was feeling most sympathetic to the queen he was speaking to. And he did know well the pain that Vangelis must be suffering. He knew that one well.
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He did not breeze into the room like he normally would have. In the borrowed chiton, he felt out of place. It was a deep red and longer than he usually wore. It was also not fastened with any clasp that he usually wore. This one was plain and while it was definitely fit for a prince, it wasn’t what Stephanos wanted. Or, he reflected, maybe it was. Tonight, he was content to be no one at all. That was definitely better than being himself.
Following Pia, he kept his hands fixed behind his back as she tore away from him to fling herself on her mother, like they were at home and not in the middle of a crowd. He chewed the inside of his cheek, watching them but he didn’t follow. He did not want to speak to anyone from Taengea, least of all Nana or Evelli. Neither of them had anything to say that he wanted to hear.
He’d looked around, spotting both Imeeya and Athanasia. His plan was to go and sit with them but Imeeya was now too close to his in laws and he’d lost Athanasia in the crowd somewhere. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Queen Yanni rising from her dias but it didn’t occur to him that she was heading this way. His stony expression remained unchecked until he perceived her close enough to him that she was within speaking distance.
Just as he turned his attention to her, he found her offering him a chalice. He stared at it for a fraction of a second before his fingers curled around the stem and he took it from her with a shallow bow. “Thank you, your majesty,” he said and then buried anything else he wanted to say by drinking from the cup. Though he had never met Queen Yanni, there was no mistaking who this was. She was dressed too well and too elegantly, not to mention shared features with both Vangelis and Lord Gavriil. He felt as though he knew her a little without knowing her at all.
After a moment, he cleared his throat, keeping his eyes locked on her face. “Your kingdom has suffered a great loss, but I trust gained someone as capable to the throne as the late king. I’m sorry the gods have been so cruel as to take him from you.”
There was no way on this earth that he wasn’t going to let slide her own loss. He was not too wrapped up in his own losses to recognize that other people had suffered more recent tragedies than he had. Olympia had not been dragged from him but he felt like he’d lost her nonetheless. At the moment, he was feeling most sympathetic to the queen he was speaking to. And he did know well the pain that Vangelis must be suffering. He knew that one well.
He did not breeze into the room like he normally would have. In the borrowed chiton, he felt out of place. It was a deep red and longer than he usually wore. It was also not fastened with any clasp that he usually wore. This one was plain and while it was definitely fit for a prince, it wasn’t what Stephanos wanted. Or, he reflected, maybe it was. Tonight, he was content to be no one at all. That was definitely better than being himself.
Following Pia, he kept his hands fixed behind his back as she tore away from him to fling herself on her mother, like they were at home and not in the middle of a crowd. He chewed the inside of his cheek, watching them but he didn’t follow. He did not want to speak to anyone from Taengea, least of all Nana or Evelli. Neither of them had anything to say that he wanted to hear.
He’d looked around, spotting both Imeeya and Athanasia. His plan was to go and sit with them but Imeeya was now too close to his in laws and he’d lost Athanasia in the crowd somewhere. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Queen Yanni rising from her dias but it didn’t occur to him that she was heading this way. His stony expression remained unchecked until he perceived her close enough to him that she was within speaking distance.
Just as he turned his attention to her, he found her offering him a chalice. He stared at it for a fraction of a second before his fingers curled around the stem and he took it from her with a shallow bow. “Thank you, your majesty,” he said and then buried anything else he wanted to say by drinking from the cup. Though he had never met Queen Yanni, there was no mistaking who this was. She was dressed too well and too elegantly, not to mention shared features with both Vangelis and Lord Gavriil. He felt as though he knew her a little without knowing her at all.
After a moment, he cleared his throat, keeping his eyes locked on her face. “Your kingdom has suffered a great loss, but I trust gained someone as capable to the throne as the late king. I’m sorry the gods have been so cruel as to take him from you.”
There was no way on this earth that he wasn’t going to let slide her own loss. He was not too wrapped up in his own losses to recognize that other people had suffered more recent tragedies than he had. Olympia had not been dragged from him but he felt like he’d lost her nonetheless. At the moment, he was feeling most sympathetic to the queen he was speaking to. And he did know well the pain that Vangelis must be suffering. He knew that one well.
Dionysios moved at a slower pace than he used to. That was another thing that had ground down, diminished as time went on. He still stood as straight as he could but indefinitely it was not the same regal stance it used to be. And his steps seemed to be harder to orchestrate of late. So simple a thing as putting one foot in front of another. But no matter how hard he thought his instructions to his limbs, they moved at a pace far slower than he wanted. And it only served to anger him. Why was something that was once so simple now some giant task?
And why did everyone assume that simply because his legs didn't move as quickly as they once had he had also turned completely deaf?! His hearing was fine, his eye-sight still strong except for small handwriting in poor lighting. There was nothing wrong with his brain. His physical makeup was simply getting old. That didn't mean he could be talked about as if he wasn't there!
"I'm right here." He grumbled stubbornly. "And obviously, if the King is not polite enough to attend the meet punctually, we shall sit as dictated at the tables." He insisted, his voice perhaps a little too loud for its judgmental words.
They had entered the main Dikastirio by now and his voice had a tendency to echo.
Heading in the direction he had intended and practically dragging his daughter along with her, Dionysios, moved towards one of the long wooden tables that ran from the entrance wall up to the head table at the opposite end. The table that crossed perpendicular to the others was the royal table and Dionysios placed himself at the end closest to that end, expecting his children to fall in alongside him, despite the fact that no-one else was yet sitting but mingling with friends and family.
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Dionysios moved at a slower pace than he used to. That was another thing that had ground down, diminished as time went on. He still stood as straight as he could but indefinitely it was not the same regal stance it used to be. And his steps seemed to be harder to orchestrate of late. So simple a thing as putting one foot in front of another. But no matter how hard he thought his instructions to his limbs, they moved at a pace far slower than he wanted. And it only served to anger him. Why was something that was once so simple now some giant task?
And why did everyone assume that simply because his legs didn't move as quickly as they once had he had also turned completely deaf?! His hearing was fine, his eye-sight still strong except for small handwriting in poor lighting. There was nothing wrong with his brain. His physical makeup was simply getting old. That didn't mean he could be talked about as if he wasn't there!
"I'm right here." He grumbled stubbornly. "And obviously, if the King is not polite enough to attend the meet punctually, we shall sit as dictated at the tables." He insisted, his voice perhaps a little too loud for its judgmental words.
They had entered the main Dikastirio by now and his voice had a tendency to echo.
Heading in the direction he had intended and practically dragging his daughter along with her, Dionysios, moved towards one of the long wooden tables that ran from the entrance wall up to the head table at the opposite end. The table that crossed perpendicular to the others was the royal table and Dionysios placed himself at the end closest to that end, expecting his children to fall in alongside him, despite the fact that no-one else was yet sitting but mingling with friends and family.
Dionysios moved at a slower pace than he used to. That was another thing that had ground down, diminished as time went on. He still stood as straight as he could but indefinitely it was not the same regal stance it used to be. And his steps seemed to be harder to orchestrate of late. So simple a thing as putting one foot in front of another. But no matter how hard he thought his instructions to his limbs, they moved at a pace far slower than he wanted. And it only served to anger him. Why was something that was once so simple now some giant task?
And why did everyone assume that simply because his legs didn't move as quickly as they once had he had also turned completely deaf?! His hearing was fine, his eye-sight still strong except for small handwriting in poor lighting. There was nothing wrong with his brain. His physical makeup was simply getting old. That didn't mean he could be talked about as if he wasn't there!
"I'm right here." He grumbled stubbornly. "And obviously, if the King is not polite enough to attend the meet punctually, we shall sit as dictated at the tables." He insisted, his voice perhaps a little too loud for its judgmental words.
They had entered the main Dikastirio by now and his voice had a tendency to echo.
Heading in the direction he had intended and practically dragging his daughter along with her, Dionysios, moved towards one of the long wooden tables that ran from the entrance wall up to the head table at the opposite end. The table that crossed perpendicular to the others was the royal table and Dionysios placed himself at the end closest to that end, expecting his children to fall in alongside him, despite the fact that no-one else was yet sitting but mingling with friends and family.
Offering a simple smile as Stephanos thanked her for the drink and set about drinking from the edge of the ornate goblet, Queen Yanni waited for him to take his fill of the minor distraction from life that wine liked to provide for most. She didn't feel the need to disturb the calm sense of presence between them with idle chatter and, instead, waited for him to break the moment when he was ready, keeping her attention skimming across the room.
When the exiled king of Taengea offered his condolences for his late counterpart in Colchis - his sympathies at her husband's death - the Queen Mother's smile broadened further. Her eyes were calm rather than bright but she kept them from slipping into sorrowful. Her lips were pulled into an expression that was at least genuine.
"I prefer to think of myself as blessed..." She paused in her addressing of him and with a soft, apologetic tilt of her head, finished with- "...my Lord." If she addressed him as his Majesty, she would turn every eye and ear upon them. And to address him without any term of respect seemed entirely inappropriate. There were so many 'lords' in the room, however, she raised no curiosities in such a wording. She moved the conversation smoothly onwards...
"King Tython was a man of great gallantry and insisted on leading his men instead of ordering them from a safe distance." She turned her gaze out to the crowd once more, her expression one of wistful pride. "I choose to be thankful for the years I was lucky enough to have with him... Rather than lamenting the inevitable conclusion of his passing..."
That he had been taken by the enemy and not died of simple old age would, of course, always be a sadness that promoted anger rippling through Yanni's bloodstream. As a wife, she was hateful at the loss of the man she loved, but as a Queen... As a Queen she adjusted herself, drew from philosophical logic and the concept of the Fates. Her husband had been a brave and daring man who had died in the line of what he believed to be his absolutely duty and responsibility: protecting his people.
When he was at risk of death every single day that he was away from the Kirakles Isles, it was perhaps a true miracle that she had been gifted with as many years as she had...
Turning back to the Taengean, Yanni sipped from her own cup of wine before speaking...
"You are welcome in Colchis for as long as you need or wish, my Lord." She told him in completely genuine compassion that offered neither sympathy nor pity - simply kindness.
"And whilst I hope you'll not consider me imprudent for mentioning it... I encourage you to see your life as a long one." Yanni's strength of character and giving nature almost seemed to shine from her features. "I appreciate that your circumstances are not as you wish them currently. But royal blood neither dilutes nor dies." Her eyes turned hard and the compassionate Dimitrou was replaced by the Queen of the Kotas. "It simply waits and burns with the pride of birth right... until the time is right."
Reaching out to place the tips of her first two fingers upon Stephanos' wrist in a gesture of support; distanced enough for her position as a near-stranger in his life, but a touch nonetheless to in an offer of solidarity.
With that, she turned on her heel and left the man to his own devices, suspecting that he wished for neither audience nor critic to his thoughts.
Instead, she turned towards the Thanasi household that had made their way towards the tables that sported bottles of wine and pots of utensils but neither plates nor food as yet. The feast would not be served until the monarch had arrived.
Along the way, Yanni happened to catch the eye of the pretty blonde Leventi who had graced her home a few times. She knew Selene reasonably well by this point and liked her intensely, offering her a demure smile as she crossed the room and joined her daughter-in-law and her relatives...
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Offering a simple smile as Stephanos thanked her for the drink and set about drinking from the edge of the ornate goblet, Queen Yanni waited for him to take his fill of the minor distraction from life that wine liked to provide for most. She didn't feel the need to disturb the calm sense of presence between them with idle chatter and, instead, waited for him to break the moment when he was ready, keeping her attention skimming across the room.
When the exiled king of Taengea offered his condolences for his late counterpart in Colchis - his sympathies at her husband's death - the Queen Mother's smile broadened further. Her eyes were calm rather than bright but she kept them from slipping into sorrowful. Her lips were pulled into an expression that was at least genuine.
"I prefer to think of myself as blessed..." She paused in her addressing of him and with a soft, apologetic tilt of her head, finished with- "...my Lord." If she addressed him as his Majesty, she would turn every eye and ear upon them. And to address him without any term of respect seemed entirely inappropriate. There were so many 'lords' in the room, however, she raised no curiosities in such a wording. She moved the conversation smoothly onwards...
"King Tython was a man of great gallantry and insisted on leading his men instead of ordering them from a safe distance." She turned her gaze out to the crowd once more, her expression one of wistful pride. "I choose to be thankful for the years I was lucky enough to have with him... Rather than lamenting the inevitable conclusion of his passing..."
That he had been taken by the enemy and not died of simple old age would, of course, always be a sadness that promoted anger rippling through Yanni's bloodstream. As a wife, she was hateful at the loss of the man she loved, but as a Queen... As a Queen she adjusted herself, drew from philosophical logic and the concept of the Fates. Her husband had been a brave and daring man who had died in the line of what he believed to be his absolutely duty and responsibility: protecting his people.
When he was at risk of death every single day that he was away from the Kirakles Isles, it was perhaps a true miracle that she had been gifted with as many years as she had...
Turning back to the Taengean, Yanni sipped from her own cup of wine before speaking...
"You are welcome in Colchis for as long as you need or wish, my Lord." She told him in completely genuine compassion that offered neither sympathy nor pity - simply kindness.
"And whilst I hope you'll not consider me imprudent for mentioning it... I encourage you to see your life as a long one." Yanni's strength of character and giving nature almost seemed to shine from her features. "I appreciate that your circumstances are not as you wish them currently. But royal blood neither dilutes nor dies." Her eyes turned hard and the compassionate Dimitrou was replaced by the Queen of the Kotas. "It simply waits and burns with the pride of birth right... until the time is right."
Reaching out to place the tips of her first two fingers upon Stephanos' wrist in a gesture of support; distanced enough for her position as a near-stranger in his life, but a touch nonetheless to in an offer of solidarity.
With that, she turned on her heel and left the man to his own devices, suspecting that he wished for neither audience nor critic to his thoughts.
Instead, she turned towards the Thanasi household that had made their way towards the tables that sported bottles of wine and pots of utensils but neither plates nor food as yet. The feast would not be served until the monarch had arrived.
Along the way, Yanni happened to catch the eye of the pretty blonde Leventi who had graced her home a few times. She knew Selene reasonably well by this point and liked her intensely, offering her a demure smile as she crossed the room and joined her daughter-in-law and her relatives...
Offering a simple smile as Stephanos thanked her for the drink and set about drinking from the edge of the ornate goblet, Queen Yanni waited for him to take his fill of the minor distraction from life that wine liked to provide for most. She didn't feel the need to disturb the calm sense of presence between them with idle chatter and, instead, waited for him to break the moment when he was ready, keeping her attention skimming across the room.
When the exiled king of Taengea offered his condolences for his late counterpart in Colchis - his sympathies at her husband's death - the Queen Mother's smile broadened further. Her eyes were calm rather than bright but she kept them from slipping into sorrowful. Her lips were pulled into an expression that was at least genuine.
"I prefer to think of myself as blessed..." She paused in her addressing of him and with a soft, apologetic tilt of her head, finished with- "...my Lord." If she addressed him as his Majesty, she would turn every eye and ear upon them. And to address him without any term of respect seemed entirely inappropriate. There were so many 'lords' in the room, however, she raised no curiosities in such a wording. She moved the conversation smoothly onwards...
"King Tython was a man of great gallantry and insisted on leading his men instead of ordering them from a safe distance." She turned her gaze out to the crowd once more, her expression one of wistful pride. "I choose to be thankful for the years I was lucky enough to have with him... Rather than lamenting the inevitable conclusion of his passing..."
That he had been taken by the enemy and not died of simple old age would, of course, always be a sadness that promoted anger rippling through Yanni's bloodstream. As a wife, she was hateful at the loss of the man she loved, but as a Queen... As a Queen she adjusted herself, drew from philosophical logic and the concept of the Fates. Her husband had been a brave and daring man who had died in the line of what he believed to be his absolutely duty and responsibility: protecting his people.
When he was at risk of death every single day that he was away from the Kirakles Isles, it was perhaps a true miracle that she had been gifted with as many years as she had...
Turning back to the Taengean, Yanni sipped from her own cup of wine before speaking...
"You are welcome in Colchis for as long as you need or wish, my Lord." She told him in completely genuine compassion that offered neither sympathy nor pity - simply kindness.
"And whilst I hope you'll not consider me imprudent for mentioning it... I encourage you to see your life as a long one." Yanni's strength of character and giving nature almost seemed to shine from her features. "I appreciate that your circumstances are not as you wish them currently. But royal blood neither dilutes nor dies." Her eyes turned hard and the compassionate Dimitrou was replaced by the Queen of the Kotas. "It simply waits and burns with the pride of birth right... until the time is right."
Reaching out to place the tips of her first two fingers upon Stephanos' wrist in a gesture of support; distanced enough for her position as a near-stranger in his life, but a touch nonetheless to in an offer of solidarity.
With that, she turned on her heel and left the man to his own devices, suspecting that he wished for neither audience nor critic to his thoughts.
Instead, she turned towards the Thanasi household that had made their way towards the tables that sported bottles of wine and pots of utensils but neither plates nor food as yet. The feast would not be served until the monarch had arrived.
Along the way, Yanni happened to catch the eye of the pretty blonde Leventi who had graced her home a few times. She knew Selene reasonably well by this point and liked her intensely, offering her a demure smile as she crossed the room and joined her daughter-in-law and her relatives...
Six days.
That was apparently the length of time it took to learn how to be a king.
Vangelis had gone through a series of stages after docking in his native land of Colchis and discovering that his father had been found dead. The fact that it had been his brother to inform him thusly, was hardly a diminishment of the blow it had struck. Of all his siblings, Vangelis was perhaps the closest to their father. He or Zanon. The two of them had fought alongside the king so many times he had become as much a brother in arms as he had a paternal figure. Then there was the fact that he was more experienced in the military than they had ever been, making him a role model. After that came the fact that he was, indeed, their father and held a special place of love and affection in their hearts - especially when the Kotas had always operated more as a family than a dynasty as some of the other Houses in Colchis or beyond liked to think of themselves. On top of all that came the fact that he was King and that the crown rested upon his head, ensuring that they were all loyal to a fault.
Despite rarely being at home, King Tython had been, without a doubt, the lynchpin that held the world of each of the Kotas siblings together. Just because you could not see the undercurrents in the ocean, didn't mean that it wasn't their profound effect that made the waves roll.
When Vangelis had first been confronted with the news, he had simply turned his mind off to all emotion. He hadn't done it consciously. It was simply a protective instinct that his mind and body had learned since he had gone to war. You desensitised yourself to your surroundings and circumstances, and you carried on. He had maintained that frame of mind at the docks when he had landed and had maintained it still when his family had convened in the manor. There had been a lot for them all to say but little that was of any consequence besides expressing each of their feelings of grief.
It had been when his family - whom he felt a categorical need to be strong in front of - had each dispersed to their bedchambers, leaving Vangelis without audience or direction. He had fallen into a foggy state of mind, his own sorrow rising to the surface but having to shoulder, support or outlet. As the new king, he was denied that which he had to give to others.
That had been how Selene had found him in the stables: the desensitised slowly becoming human once more.
Then had come to real feelings of loss: anger, frustration, desperation... He had struggled over his father's work, dedicated his thoughts to the man's creeds, plans and strategies. Attempted to absorb everything that Tython would have had in his head at any one time and do it instantaneously. The results, of course, were not what he felt that he needed and he had reacted with volatile emotion. Thea had helped him on that occasion...
Now, just six days after his initial landing in Colchis, he was at a point where he was beginning to make sense of it all. Having felt like his previous experience as crown prince was granting him nothing, he had poured over the records and information in his father's study until he felt himself wanting to scream. And then, it had started to gel. Realising that his father had given him far more of the jigsaw pieces than he had realised, Vangelis had begun to work out the final gaps in the picture and had become lost for time in his dual excitement and desperation to see understanding reached.
Needless to say, he was nowhere near his rooms, making ready for the feast in his honour that night when his mother demurely knocked upon the door and stepped inside.
She paused for a moment, as if surprised to see her son behind the large desk rather than her husband. Her expression was unreadable but Vangelis noticed a depth to her eyes that belied her mixed feelings upon the spectacle. Clothed in a simple robe of purest silver silk, his mother was clearly on her way to prepare her own aesthetic for the event and had stopped in to ensure that he wouldn't have forgotten to do the same.
Assuring her that he would be there and appropriately gowned, Vangelis turned back to his work. But it was a while longer than he had intended before he realised that he now had limited time to head to his chambers and then to the Dikastirio.
Taking a steadily and - he hoped - fortifying breath, Vangelis cleared away the information, locked up anything that was sensitive and strode around the desk in his normal casual attire of riding pants and shirt. He would need to change, or his mother would throttle him and they'd have another dead king on their hands.
As he left the study previously owned as his father's most private domain, Vangelis collided with four men total. His brother, and the three guards that followed him around like a shadow-y entourage.
It was common knowledge that the most prevalent time to kill and monarch was immediately before or immediately after they came to power. The discord that a change of monarch created presented unique opportunities and moments of weakness that an attacker or enemy could exploited. The crown was circular and as it rolled from one head to the next upon a monarch's death, it was easier to keep the momentum going to a third than it was to wait for it to settle upon an heir's temples and then attempt to unseat it once more.
As such, Vangelis was unable to avoid the additional security attached to him - even in his own home - whether he wanted to or not. The first night in the stables had been a moment of rarity. He hadn't been able to lose them since and they remained outside every room he entered, ready to dive through at the slightest noise. As if he were some damsel in distress.
The fourth man - his brother Zanon - offered no such threat, of course, besides the reminder that their mother was nervous of his tardiness; a comment that Vangelis saw little need to respond to barring a nod of understanding. The two men knew their mother well and it was only that fact that saved Vangelis from snapping at Zanon for his need to trail him to his bedchambers and witnessing him getting ready. His brother clearly wasn't intending to be the one to inform the Queen Dowager that the King was still in his quarters when he had left him.
Unsurprised that everything he would need in order to dress the part he was slowly starting to feel he might be able to play had been laid out for his preparation (another token of aid from the Queen Mother), Vangelis bathed quickly and haphazardly before allowing several servants to deck him out in crimson silks trimmed in jet black thread.
The chiton in question was tied above both shoulders, allowed for his bare arms and descended to his feet. The garment was cinched at his waist with a black leather belt of fine quality and offered a slit down one leg where the leather straps of his knee-high sandals could be offered as sporting the same high quality of work.
Determined not to alter himself so that he was unrecognisable, Vangelis retained his belt with sheath and sword at his hip, his house and crest rings, and simply added gold bracers that stretched from wrist to elbow, engraved with the traditional markings of Colchis and Kotas. He then turned to find his body slave holding the crown, ready for him to take and place upon his head.
Glancing at his brother but saying nothing, he took the heavy circlet with its tall spikes and placed it upon his head. A band of Colchian blood stone ran the circumference of the piece and glinted in the candlelight of his rooms.
Deliberately ignoring the polished bronze in the corner of his room that would have offered a reflection for his evaluation, Vangelis didn't wish to see what he looked like as king and regal monarch. He might know how to do the job now for the main part - but he wasn't ready to accept himself as it yet.
Because of this, he failed to notice the scratch marks on his back - now hidden by his formal chiton - and the deep purple mark beneath his jawline, visible when he turned his head a certain way. If his brother noticed the symptoms of recent sexual activity, he didn't say so and Vangelis paid the event no conscious thought as he left the room with Zanon and the two of them rode in a carriage instead of on horseback to the Dikastirio.
Feeling like some primped idiot unable to ride himself from one location to another, Vangelis felt the centre of all attentions but also somehow impotent as he arrived at the feast arranged to celebrate his becoming something that he had always known he would be, and yet emotionally didn't ever seem to believe he would become.
As his arrival was announced, the steward at the door called the words that had Vangelis falling into his role; his shoulders broadening, his spine straightening, and his impressive size and height dominating the doorway. Zanon, with the same dramatic height offered a dark shadow at his right as the attendees turned to look in his direction at the call of the introducer -
'His Royal Majesty, King Vangelis of Colchis.'
The name rang out as every other would have done as members of the Houses arrived but this time settled conversation for a moment. Some continued to watch him as he descended the steps into the hall, whilst others returned to their conversations. Vangelis tried to pay each and all a glance but little direct attention.
Naturally, he moved to join his mother, greeted the Thanasis she was speaking with briefly and offered the Queen Dowager a simple kiss to her temple before moving on and finding his chair at the royal table at the direct centre. The rest of the chairs would be filled by his immediate family, Evras and Dion. The only empty position at the royal table would be that of Yiannis who would be attending to his own matters. Vangelis had placed him in charge of the investigation of their father's death and whilst he reconnected with his military unit after his sojourn in Athenia, he was to be away from the capital, with the intention of unmasking the culprit of the regicidal plan to kill the King. The culprit who would be of the Northern lands. For, Vangelis already knew it was the work of no-one in the room. Regardless of current conjecture against the Thanasi household.
The four tables stretching away from the head table were benched and offered more than enough space for the Royal Dynasteias, Captains and military officers, nobility and foreign guests. Where they sat was of their own choice but Vangelis' arrival now commanded that they did, indeed, sit. But food would not be served until Vangelis or his mother had spoken in some means or fashion to begin the feast and welcome their guests. Something that had him feeling even more like a puppet on strings, dancing to the merry tune of the role of monarch...
This character is currently a work in progress.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Six days.
That was apparently the length of time it took to learn how to be a king.
Vangelis had gone through a series of stages after docking in his native land of Colchis and discovering that his father had been found dead. The fact that it had been his brother to inform him thusly, was hardly a diminishment of the blow it had struck. Of all his siblings, Vangelis was perhaps the closest to their father. He or Zanon. The two of them had fought alongside the king so many times he had become as much a brother in arms as he had a paternal figure. Then there was the fact that he was more experienced in the military than they had ever been, making him a role model. After that came the fact that he was, indeed, their father and held a special place of love and affection in their hearts - especially when the Kotas had always operated more as a family than a dynasty as some of the other Houses in Colchis or beyond liked to think of themselves. On top of all that came the fact that he was King and that the crown rested upon his head, ensuring that they were all loyal to a fault.
Despite rarely being at home, King Tython had been, without a doubt, the lynchpin that held the world of each of the Kotas siblings together. Just because you could not see the undercurrents in the ocean, didn't mean that it wasn't their profound effect that made the waves roll.
When Vangelis had first been confronted with the news, he had simply turned his mind off to all emotion. He hadn't done it consciously. It was simply a protective instinct that his mind and body had learned since he had gone to war. You desensitised yourself to your surroundings and circumstances, and you carried on. He had maintained that frame of mind at the docks when he had landed and had maintained it still when his family had convened in the manor. There had been a lot for them all to say but little that was of any consequence besides expressing each of their feelings of grief.
It had been when his family - whom he felt a categorical need to be strong in front of - had each dispersed to their bedchambers, leaving Vangelis without audience or direction. He had fallen into a foggy state of mind, his own sorrow rising to the surface but having to shoulder, support or outlet. As the new king, he was denied that which he had to give to others.
That had been how Selene had found him in the stables: the desensitised slowly becoming human once more.
Then had come to real feelings of loss: anger, frustration, desperation... He had struggled over his father's work, dedicated his thoughts to the man's creeds, plans and strategies. Attempted to absorb everything that Tython would have had in his head at any one time and do it instantaneously. The results, of course, were not what he felt that he needed and he had reacted with volatile emotion. Thea had helped him on that occasion...
Now, just six days after his initial landing in Colchis, he was at a point where he was beginning to make sense of it all. Having felt like his previous experience as crown prince was granting him nothing, he had poured over the records and information in his father's study until he felt himself wanting to scream. And then, it had started to gel. Realising that his father had given him far more of the jigsaw pieces than he had realised, Vangelis had begun to work out the final gaps in the picture and had become lost for time in his dual excitement and desperation to see understanding reached.
Needless to say, he was nowhere near his rooms, making ready for the feast in his honour that night when his mother demurely knocked upon the door and stepped inside.
She paused for a moment, as if surprised to see her son behind the large desk rather than her husband. Her expression was unreadable but Vangelis noticed a depth to her eyes that belied her mixed feelings upon the spectacle. Clothed in a simple robe of purest silver silk, his mother was clearly on her way to prepare her own aesthetic for the event and had stopped in to ensure that he wouldn't have forgotten to do the same.
Assuring her that he would be there and appropriately gowned, Vangelis turned back to his work. But it was a while longer than he had intended before he realised that he now had limited time to head to his chambers and then to the Dikastirio.
Taking a steadily and - he hoped - fortifying breath, Vangelis cleared away the information, locked up anything that was sensitive and strode around the desk in his normal casual attire of riding pants and shirt. He would need to change, or his mother would throttle him and they'd have another dead king on their hands.
As he left the study previously owned as his father's most private domain, Vangelis collided with four men total. His brother, and the three guards that followed him around like a shadow-y entourage.
It was common knowledge that the most prevalent time to kill and monarch was immediately before or immediately after they came to power. The discord that a change of monarch created presented unique opportunities and moments of weakness that an attacker or enemy could exploited. The crown was circular and as it rolled from one head to the next upon a monarch's death, it was easier to keep the momentum going to a third than it was to wait for it to settle upon an heir's temples and then attempt to unseat it once more.
As such, Vangelis was unable to avoid the additional security attached to him - even in his own home - whether he wanted to or not. The first night in the stables had been a moment of rarity. He hadn't been able to lose them since and they remained outside every room he entered, ready to dive through at the slightest noise. As if he were some damsel in distress.
The fourth man - his brother Zanon - offered no such threat, of course, besides the reminder that their mother was nervous of his tardiness; a comment that Vangelis saw little need to respond to barring a nod of understanding. The two men knew their mother well and it was only that fact that saved Vangelis from snapping at Zanon for his need to trail him to his bedchambers and witnessing him getting ready. His brother clearly wasn't intending to be the one to inform the Queen Dowager that the King was still in his quarters when he had left him.
Unsurprised that everything he would need in order to dress the part he was slowly starting to feel he might be able to play had been laid out for his preparation (another token of aid from the Queen Mother), Vangelis bathed quickly and haphazardly before allowing several servants to deck him out in crimson silks trimmed in jet black thread.
The chiton in question was tied above both shoulders, allowed for his bare arms and descended to his feet. The garment was cinched at his waist with a black leather belt of fine quality and offered a slit down one leg where the leather straps of his knee-high sandals could be offered as sporting the same high quality of work.
Determined not to alter himself so that he was unrecognisable, Vangelis retained his belt with sheath and sword at his hip, his house and crest rings, and simply added gold bracers that stretched from wrist to elbow, engraved with the traditional markings of Colchis and Kotas. He then turned to find his body slave holding the crown, ready for him to take and place upon his head.
Glancing at his brother but saying nothing, he took the heavy circlet with its tall spikes and placed it upon his head. A band of Colchian blood stone ran the circumference of the piece and glinted in the candlelight of his rooms.
Deliberately ignoring the polished bronze in the corner of his room that would have offered a reflection for his evaluation, Vangelis didn't wish to see what he looked like as king and regal monarch. He might know how to do the job now for the main part - but he wasn't ready to accept himself as it yet.
Because of this, he failed to notice the scratch marks on his back - now hidden by his formal chiton - and the deep purple mark beneath his jawline, visible when he turned his head a certain way. If his brother noticed the symptoms of recent sexual activity, he didn't say so and Vangelis paid the event no conscious thought as he left the room with Zanon and the two of them rode in a carriage instead of on horseback to the Dikastirio.
Feeling like some primped idiot unable to ride himself from one location to another, Vangelis felt the centre of all attentions but also somehow impotent as he arrived at the feast arranged to celebrate his becoming something that he had always known he would be, and yet emotionally didn't ever seem to believe he would become.
As his arrival was announced, the steward at the door called the words that had Vangelis falling into his role; his shoulders broadening, his spine straightening, and his impressive size and height dominating the doorway. Zanon, with the same dramatic height offered a dark shadow at his right as the attendees turned to look in his direction at the call of the introducer -
'His Royal Majesty, King Vangelis of Colchis.'
The name rang out as every other would have done as members of the Houses arrived but this time settled conversation for a moment. Some continued to watch him as he descended the steps into the hall, whilst others returned to their conversations. Vangelis tried to pay each and all a glance but little direct attention.
Naturally, he moved to join his mother, greeted the Thanasis she was speaking with briefly and offered the Queen Dowager a simple kiss to her temple before moving on and finding his chair at the royal table at the direct centre. The rest of the chairs would be filled by his immediate family, Evras and Dion. The only empty position at the royal table would be that of Yiannis who would be attending to his own matters. Vangelis had placed him in charge of the investigation of their father's death and whilst he reconnected with his military unit after his sojourn in Athenia, he was to be away from the capital, with the intention of unmasking the culprit of the regicidal plan to kill the King. The culprit who would be of the Northern lands. For, Vangelis already knew it was the work of no-one in the room. Regardless of current conjecture against the Thanasi household.
The four tables stretching away from the head table were benched and offered more than enough space for the Royal Dynasteias, Captains and military officers, nobility and foreign guests. Where they sat was of their own choice but Vangelis' arrival now commanded that they did, indeed, sit. But food would not be served until Vangelis or his mother had spoken in some means or fashion to begin the feast and welcome their guests. Something that had him feeling even more like a puppet on strings, dancing to the merry tune of the role of monarch...
Six days.
That was apparently the length of time it took to learn how to be a king.
Vangelis had gone through a series of stages after docking in his native land of Colchis and discovering that his father had been found dead. The fact that it had been his brother to inform him thusly, was hardly a diminishment of the blow it had struck. Of all his siblings, Vangelis was perhaps the closest to their father. He or Zanon. The two of them had fought alongside the king so many times he had become as much a brother in arms as he had a paternal figure. Then there was the fact that he was more experienced in the military than they had ever been, making him a role model. After that came the fact that he was, indeed, their father and held a special place of love and affection in their hearts - especially when the Kotas had always operated more as a family than a dynasty as some of the other Houses in Colchis or beyond liked to think of themselves. On top of all that came the fact that he was King and that the crown rested upon his head, ensuring that they were all loyal to a fault.
Despite rarely being at home, King Tython had been, without a doubt, the lynchpin that held the world of each of the Kotas siblings together. Just because you could not see the undercurrents in the ocean, didn't mean that it wasn't their profound effect that made the waves roll.
When Vangelis had first been confronted with the news, he had simply turned his mind off to all emotion. He hadn't done it consciously. It was simply a protective instinct that his mind and body had learned since he had gone to war. You desensitised yourself to your surroundings and circumstances, and you carried on. He had maintained that frame of mind at the docks when he had landed and had maintained it still when his family had convened in the manor. There had been a lot for them all to say but little that was of any consequence besides expressing each of their feelings of grief.
It had been when his family - whom he felt a categorical need to be strong in front of - had each dispersed to their bedchambers, leaving Vangelis without audience or direction. He had fallen into a foggy state of mind, his own sorrow rising to the surface but having to shoulder, support or outlet. As the new king, he was denied that which he had to give to others.
That had been how Selene had found him in the stables: the desensitised slowly becoming human once more.
Then had come to real feelings of loss: anger, frustration, desperation... He had struggled over his father's work, dedicated his thoughts to the man's creeds, plans and strategies. Attempted to absorb everything that Tython would have had in his head at any one time and do it instantaneously. The results, of course, were not what he felt that he needed and he had reacted with volatile emotion. Thea had helped him on that occasion...
Now, just six days after his initial landing in Colchis, he was at a point where he was beginning to make sense of it all. Having felt like his previous experience as crown prince was granting him nothing, he had poured over the records and information in his father's study until he felt himself wanting to scream. And then, it had started to gel. Realising that his father had given him far more of the jigsaw pieces than he had realised, Vangelis had begun to work out the final gaps in the picture and had become lost for time in his dual excitement and desperation to see understanding reached.
Needless to say, he was nowhere near his rooms, making ready for the feast in his honour that night when his mother demurely knocked upon the door and stepped inside.
She paused for a moment, as if surprised to see her son behind the large desk rather than her husband. Her expression was unreadable but Vangelis noticed a depth to her eyes that belied her mixed feelings upon the spectacle. Clothed in a simple robe of purest silver silk, his mother was clearly on her way to prepare her own aesthetic for the event and had stopped in to ensure that he wouldn't have forgotten to do the same.
Assuring her that he would be there and appropriately gowned, Vangelis turned back to his work. But it was a while longer than he had intended before he realised that he now had limited time to head to his chambers and then to the Dikastirio.
Taking a steadily and - he hoped - fortifying breath, Vangelis cleared away the information, locked up anything that was sensitive and strode around the desk in his normal casual attire of riding pants and shirt. He would need to change, or his mother would throttle him and they'd have another dead king on their hands.
As he left the study previously owned as his father's most private domain, Vangelis collided with four men total. His brother, and the three guards that followed him around like a shadow-y entourage.
It was common knowledge that the most prevalent time to kill and monarch was immediately before or immediately after they came to power. The discord that a change of monarch created presented unique opportunities and moments of weakness that an attacker or enemy could exploited. The crown was circular and as it rolled from one head to the next upon a monarch's death, it was easier to keep the momentum going to a third than it was to wait for it to settle upon an heir's temples and then attempt to unseat it once more.
As such, Vangelis was unable to avoid the additional security attached to him - even in his own home - whether he wanted to or not. The first night in the stables had been a moment of rarity. He hadn't been able to lose them since and they remained outside every room he entered, ready to dive through at the slightest noise. As if he were some damsel in distress.
The fourth man - his brother Zanon - offered no such threat, of course, besides the reminder that their mother was nervous of his tardiness; a comment that Vangelis saw little need to respond to barring a nod of understanding. The two men knew their mother well and it was only that fact that saved Vangelis from snapping at Zanon for his need to trail him to his bedchambers and witnessing him getting ready. His brother clearly wasn't intending to be the one to inform the Queen Dowager that the King was still in his quarters when he had left him.
Unsurprised that everything he would need in order to dress the part he was slowly starting to feel he might be able to play had been laid out for his preparation (another token of aid from the Queen Mother), Vangelis bathed quickly and haphazardly before allowing several servants to deck him out in crimson silks trimmed in jet black thread.
The chiton in question was tied above both shoulders, allowed for his bare arms and descended to his feet. The garment was cinched at his waist with a black leather belt of fine quality and offered a slit down one leg where the leather straps of his knee-high sandals could be offered as sporting the same high quality of work.
Determined not to alter himself so that he was unrecognisable, Vangelis retained his belt with sheath and sword at his hip, his house and crest rings, and simply added gold bracers that stretched from wrist to elbow, engraved with the traditional markings of Colchis and Kotas. He then turned to find his body slave holding the crown, ready for him to take and place upon his head.
Glancing at his brother but saying nothing, he took the heavy circlet with its tall spikes and placed it upon his head. A band of Colchian blood stone ran the circumference of the piece and glinted in the candlelight of his rooms.
Deliberately ignoring the polished bronze in the corner of his room that would have offered a reflection for his evaluation, Vangelis didn't wish to see what he looked like as king and regal monarch. He might know how to do the job now for the main part - but he wasn't ready to accept himself as it yet.
Because of this, he failed to notice the scratch marks on his back - now hidden by his formal chiton - and the deep purple mark beneath his jawline, visible when he turned his head a certain way. If his brother noticed the symptoms of recent sexual activity, he didn't say so and Vangelis paid the event no conscious thought as he left the room with Zanon and the two of them rode in a carriage instead of on horseback to the Dikastirio.
Feeling like some primped idiot unable to ride himself from one location to another, Vangelis felt the centre of all attentions but also somehow impotent as he arrived at the feast arranged to celebrate his becoming something that he had always known he would be, and yet emotionally didn't ever seem to believe he would become.
As his arrival was announced, the steward at the door called the words that had Vangelis falling into his role; his shoulders broadening, his spine straightening, and his impressive size and height dominating the doorway. Zanon, with the same dramatic height offered a dark shadow at his right as the attendees turned to look in his direction at the call of the introducer -
'His Royal Majesty, King Vangelis of Colchis.'
The name rang out as every other would have done as members of the Houses arrived but this time settled conversation for a moment. Some continued to watch him as he descended the steps into the hall, whilst others returned to their conversations. Vangelis tried to pay each and all a glance but little direct attention.
Naturally, he moved to join his mother, greeted the Thanasis she was speaking with briefly and offered the Queen Dowager a simple kiss to her temple before moving on and finding his chair at the royal table at the direct centre. The rest of the chairs would be filled by his immediate family, Evras and Dion. The only empty position at the royal table would be that of Yiannis who would be attending to his own matters. Vangelis had placed him in charge of the investigation of their father's death and whilst he reconnected with his military unit after his sojourn in Athenia, he was to be away from the capital, with the intention of unmasking the culprit of the regicidal plan to kill the King. The culprit who would be of the Northern lands. For, Vangelis already knew it was the work of no-one in the room. Regardless of current conjecture against the Thanasi household.
The four tables stretching away from the head table were benched and offered more than enough space for the Royal Dynasteias, Captains and military officers, nobility and foreign guests. Where they sat was of their own choice but Vangelis' arrival now commanded that they did, indeed, sit. But food would not be served until Vangelis or his mother had spoken in some means or fashion to begin the feast and welcome their guests. Something that had him feeling even more like a puppet on strings, dancing to the merry tune of the role of monarch...
Nike could barely remember the last time she's had the time to take a breather ever since they had landed on the shores of Midas and been greeted with the news of the death of the former King Tython. Having been on sea, there had been no way for the Colchian party in Taengea to gain the news of Tython's passing, and the moment they had been informed, the bodyguard had been on high alert. It did not take a second longer for her to understand the implications of the news - the first being that Vangelis would now ascend to his father's position, a position he had been in no hurry to take and was happy to continue as was for many years yet. The second, was that now was a perfect time for anyone eager to see turmoil in Colchis to take action upon the monarch and his family, when times were turbulent.
So Nike had, without needing to be told, increased security measures around and all over the Kotas manor. Vangelis may dislike it, and so did many of the otehr Kotas members, but Nike was nothing if not thorough, and she left no stone unturned. It did not matter that she knew all of the one's born of the Kotas name were well versed in the art of self defense and going on offence, should one man be caught alone, no amount of training could help him if he was simply overpowered in numbers, so that was a chance Nike was unwilling to take.
It did not help that they had Taengean visitors as well, and the situation that surrounded their Taengean guests was no mystery to Nike. In the weeks they had been on voyage, the Commander had asked Vangelis enough, and seen enough, to know the tumultuous position they were in, and it did not help matters at all.
At the end of the day, the Commander was run ragged, but that did not mean she did not take hr duties seriously.
A night where guests and attendees would come from all over the kingdom also meant more faces, names, voices and lives that could be lost should things go south. The whole ride to the Dikastrio, the woman's eyes were alert and wary, and instead of her usual spot riding just adjacent to Vangelis behind him, Nike had instead chosen to take up the rear. She was of the opinion that she could watch better there, and watching was what she did.
Entering the Dikastrio all primped out for a court session felt foreign to her. In truth, Nike had felt more at home over the past two weeks on the sea and working hard. Surrounded by such gold, frippery and finery was out of place for her, someone who had only known hard work and determination her whole life. Despite being Taengean born, Nike was more Colchian then half of them here, hard work and determination underlining everything she did.
Remaining a shadow in the edges of the Dikastrio, the Commander watched the proceedings of the nobility, occasionally exchanging looks with the guards she had posted out, around, and inside the hall, one hand always on her claymore strapped to her waist. With every step, Nike could feel the throwing knives hidden horizontally on her utility belt, and the two daggers slipped in each of her boot. She was fully equipped, but fervantly hoped she wouldn't have to use any of it.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Nike could barely remember the last time she's had the time to take a breather ever since they had landed on the shores of Midas and been greeted with the news of the death of the former King Tython. Having been on sea, there had been no way for the Colchian party in Taengea to gain the news of Tython's passing, and the moment they had been informed, the bodyguard had been on high alert. It did not take a second longer for her to understand the implications of the news - the first being that Vangelis would now ascend to his father's position, a position he had been in no hurry to take and was happy to continue as was for many years yet. The second, was that now was a perfect time for anyone eager to see turmoil in Colchis to take action upon the monarch and his family, when times were turbulent.
So Nike had, without needing to be told, increased security measures around and all over the Kotas manor. Vangelis may dislike it, and so did many of the otehr Kotas members, but Nike was nothing if not thorough, and she left no stone unturned. It did not matter that she knew all of the one's born of the Kotas name were well versed in the art of self defense and going on offence, should one man be caught alone, no amount of training could help him if he was simply overpowered in numbers, so that was a chance Nike was unwilling to take.
It did not help that they had Taengean visitors as well, and the situation that surrounded their Taengean guests was no mystery to Nike. In the weeks they had been on voyage, the Commander had asked Vangelis enough, and seen enough, to know the tumultuous position they were in, and it did not help matters at all.
At the end of the day, the Commander was run ragged, but that did not mean she did not take hr duties seriously.
A night where guests and attendees would come from all over the kingdom also meant more faces, names, voices and lives that could be lost should things go south. The whole ride to the Dikastrio, the woman's eyes were alert and wary, and instead of her usual spot riding just adjacent to Vangelis behind him, Nike had instead chosen to take up the rear. She was of the opinion that she could watch better there, and watching was what she did.
Entering the Dikastrio all primped out for a court session felt foreign to her. In truth, Nike had felt more at home over the past two weeks on the sea and working hard. Surrounded by such gold, frippery and finery was out of place for her, someone who had only known hard work and determination her whole life. Despite being Taengean born, Nike was more Colchian then half of them here, hard work and determination underlining everything she did.
Remaining a shadow in the edges of the Dikastrio, the Commander watched the proceedings of the nobility, occasionally exchanging looks with the guards she had posted out, around, and inside the hall, one hand always on her claymore strapped to her waist. With every step, Nike could feel the throwing knives hidden horizontally on her utility belt, and the two daggers slipped in each of her boot. She was fully equipped, but fervantly hoped she wouldn't have to use any of it.
Nike could barely remember the last time she's had the time to take a breather ever since they had landed on the shores of Midas and been greeted with the news of the death of the former King Tython. Having been on sea, there had been no way for the Colchian party in Taengea to gain the news of Tython's passing, and the moment they had been informed, the bodyguard had been on high alert. It did not take a second longer for her to understand the implications of the news - the first being that Vangelis would now ascend to his father's position, a position he had been in no hurry to take and was happy to continue as was for many years yet. The second, was that now was a perfect time for anyone eager to see turmoil in Colchis to take action upon the monarch and his family, when times were turbulent.
So Nike had, without needing to be told, increased security measures around and all over the Kotas manor. Vangelis may dislike it, and so did many of the otehr Kotas members, but Nike was nothing if not thorough, and she left no stone unturned. It did not matter that she knew all of the one's born of the Kotas name were well versed in the art of self defense and going on offence, should one man be caught alone, no amount of training could help him if he was simply overpowered in numbers, so that was a chance Nike was unwilling to take.
It did not help that they had Taengean visitors as well, and the situation that surrounded their Taengean guests was no mystery to Nike. In the weeks they had been on voyage, the Commander had asked Vangelis enough, and seen enough, to know the tumultuous position they were in, and it did not help matters at all.
At the end of the day, the Commander was run ragged, but that did not mean she did not take hr duties seriously.
A night where guests and attendees would come from all over the kingdom also meant more faces, names, voices and lives that could be lost should things go south. The whole ride to the Dikastrio, the woman's eyes were alert and wary, and instead of her usual spot riding just adjacent to Vangelis behind him, Nike had instead chosen to take up the rear. She was of the opinion that she could watch better there, and watching was what she did.
Entering the Dikastrio all primped out for a court session felt foreign to her. In truth, Nike had felt more at home over the past two weeks on the sea and working hard. Surrounded by such gold, frippery and finery was out of place for her, someone who had only known hard work and determination her whole life. Despite being Taengean born, Nike was more Colchian then half of them here, hard work and determination underlining everything she did.
Remaining a shadow in the edges of the Dikastrio, the Commander watched the proceedings of the nobility, occasionally exchanging looks with the guards she had posted out, around, and inside the hall, one hand always on her claymore strapped to her waist. With every step, Nike could feel the throwing knives hidden horizontally on her utility belt, and the two daggers slipped in each of her boot. She was fully equipped, but fervantly hoped she wouldn't have to use any of it.
Nethis looked up to her father because he was the only person she wanted to be as an adult. Dionysios was known for his power, guile, and intelligence that would make any man shrink in his garb. That type of fear was what Nethis wanted to have… When people looked at Dionysios they would think twice to challenge his commands, and it was that kind of strength he instilled in his own daughter. Because of him, Nethis has become a weapon that had become a lot more dangerous. Nethis was not the same young Lady still learning how to entangle people in her lies… Nethis has become powerful, beguiled, and as clever as any mind within the Senate, if not greater. Once upon a time, Nethis looked up to her father for his strength, but as time grew and opportunities changed Nethis gained a different outlook of her father. The ambition of becoming head of her family was a girl’s dream, and now her ambitions have only grown bigger. Nethis has tasted power before and is addicted to its euphoria as well as the ease of succumbing to its embrace like feeling a lover’s touch… That exhilarating feeling is something Nethis is not willing to have taken or kept away from her.
Listening to the commands and attitudes of her father made her realize that he is holding her back. Nethis was used to making the calls and the decisions for her House, and now it seems that her voice will only be lessened by the bellows of her father. The feeling of belittlement is something Nethis will never get used to. Although, Nethis has several strategies to play and of one of those strategies will play itself out at the dinner they all will attend. Nethis is the younger, feminine impression of Dionysios as she enters the Dikastrio with her family, and like her father she is one step ahead of her enemies. Nethis’s father maybe well and speaking as if he was of the mind behind all that has happened as of late, but what happens tonight should be his recollection of the weapon he created.
After whispering off her commands to her brother, Nethis eyed the crowd for a moment as she picked out familiar faces. Prince Stephanos of Mikaelidas was the first one she noticed… given the good times they’ve shared in their youths it behooves the Prince to acknowledge her… Although, little birds have sung that the Taengean Prince was in Colchis as a guest of the Crown, which was to be expected, though she is sure they will be speaking eventually. The Queen Dowager should have been an immediate recognition, and it saddens Nethis to know that it wasn’t her son to have drowned underneath Poseidon’s wrath. Although, Nethis is glad that Vangelis’s life was not claimed by the gods, because now she can witness glory. Nethis was brought out of her thoughts at the soft words of her youngest sister inquiring on what should be done with father and the wait of their new King. Nethis was about to speak, as she naturally felt like the fixer of situations, but her father filled in that role at the utterance of his own commands. Nethis saw eyes of onlookers dart towards the choice of words her father aired, though the eldest daughter spoke up to her father, “Indeed father, may we no longer wait… I am sure you may eventually feel too tired to continue standing,” Nethis said with a little charm, “Evras help our father to the tables, where we all may sit and wait for the King.” Truthfully, Nethis was just as eager to get to the royal table, but patience is the only way Nethis can make sure everything will be going according to plan. Her contact should have already done what was arranged.
Nethis watched as she saw her father’s stubbornness and refusal to be weak once he brushed the help of Evras to seat himself. The Lady of House Thanasi took her father’s left side as she stood next to her father like an overarching shadow. To be seated when no one else is seated will surely bring more eyes on the Thanasi House, and it should be under their best interest to remain as out the way as possible – sadly, that’s not what Dionysios had in mind. Nethis fell into her seat just before the announcement of the King, immediately her eyes turned to see him dressed in fine linen with a chiton sporting his royalty. The look Nethis expressed was solemn, though on the inside she felt like a predator that knew it was closing in on its prey, and all Nethis could see now was the lifeless face of Vangelis of Kotas.
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Nethis looked up to her father because he was the only person she wanted to be as an adult. Dionysios was known for his power, guile, and intelligence that would make any man shrink in his garb. That type of fear was what Nethis wanted to have… When people looked at Dionysios they would think twice to challenge his commands, and it was that kind of strength he instilled in his own daughter. Because of him, Nethis has become a weapon that had become a lot more dangerous. Nethis was not the same young Lady still learning how to entangle people in her lies… Nethis has become powerful, beguiled, and as clever as any mind within the Senate, if not greater. Once upon a time, Nethis looked up to her father for his strength, but as time grew and opportunities changed Nethis gained a different outlook of her father. The ambition of becoming head of her family was a girl’s dream, and now her ambitions have only grown bigger. Nethis has tasted power before and is addicted to its euphoria as well as the ease of succumbing to its embrace like feeling a lover’s touch… That exhilarating feeling is something Nethis is not willing to have taken or kept away from her.
Listening to the commands and attitudes of her father made her realize that he is holding her back. Nethis was used to making the calls and the decisions for her House, and now it seems that her voice will only be lessened by the bellows of her father. The feeling of belittlement is something Nethis will never get used to. Although, Nethis has several strategies to play and of one of those strategies will play itself out at the dinner they all will attend. Nethis is the younger, feminine impression of Dionysios as she enters the Dikastrio with her family, and like her father she is one step ahead of her enemies. Nethis’s father maybe well and speaking as if he was of the mind behind all that has happened as of late, but what happens tonight should be his recollection of the weapon he created.
After whispering off her commands to her brother, Nethis eyed the crowd for a moment as she picked out familiar faces. Prince Stephanos of Mikaelidas was the first one she noticed… given the good times they’ve shared in their youths it behooves the Prince to acknowledge her… Although, little birds have sung that the Taengean Prince was in Colchis as a guest of the Crown, which was to be expected, though she is sure they will be speaking eventually. The Queen Dowager should have been an immediate recognition, and it saddens Nethis to know that it wasn’t her son to have drowned underneath Poseidon’s wrath. Although, Nethis is glad that Vangelis’s life was not claimed by the gods, because now she can witness glory. Nethis was brought out of her thoughts at the soft words of her youngest sister inquiring on what should be done with father and the wait of their new King. Nethis was about to speak, as she naturally felt like the fixer of situations, but her father filled in that role at the utterance of his own commands. Nethis saw eyes of onlookers dart towards the choice of words her father aired, though the eldest daughter spoke up to her father, “Indeed father, may we no longer wait… I am sure you may eventually feel too tired to continue standing,” Nethis said with a little charm, “Evras help our father to the tables, where we all may sit and wait for the King.” Truthfully, Nethis was just as eager to get to the royal table, but patience is the only way Nethis can make sure everything will be going according to plan. Her contact should have already done what was arranged.
Nethis watched as she saw her father’s stubbornness and refusal to be weak once he brushed the help of Evras to seat himself. The Lady of House Thanasi took her father’s left side as she stood next to her father like an overarching shadow. To be seated when no one else is seated will surely bring more eyes on the Thanasi House, and it should be under their best interest to remain as out the way as possible – sadly, that’s not what Dionysios had in mind. Nethis fell into her seat just before the announcement of the King, immediately her eyes turned to see him dressed in fine linen with a chiton sporting his royalty. The look Nethis expressed was solemn, though on the inside she felt like a predator that knew it was closing in on its prey, and all Nethis could see now was the lifeless face of Vangelis of Kotas.
Nethis looked up to her father because he was the only person she wanted to be as an adult. Dionysios was known for his power, guile, and intelligence that would make any man shrink in his garb. That type of fear was what Nethis wanted to have… When people looked at Dionysios they would think twice to challenge his commands, and it was that kind of strength he instilled in his own daughter. Because of him, Nethis has become a weapon that had become a lot more dangerous. Nethis was not the same young Lady still learning how to entangle people in her lies… Nethis has become powerful, beguiled, and as clever as any mind within the Senate, if not greater. Once upon a time, Nethis looked up to her father for his strength, but as time grew and opportunities changed Nethis gained a different outlook of her father. The ambition of becoming head of her family was a girl’s dream, and now her ambitions have only grown bigger. Nethis has tasted power before and is addicted to its euphoria as well as the ease of succumbing to its embrace like feeling a lover’s touch… That exhilarating feeling is something Nethis is not willing to have taken or kept away from her.
Listening to the commands and attitudes of her father made her realize that he is holding her back. Nethis was used to making the calls and the decisions for her House, and now it seems that her voice will only be lessened by the bellows of her father. The feeling of belittlement is something Nethis will never get used to. Although, Nethis has several strategies to play and of one of those strategies will play itself out at the dinner they all will attend. Nethis is the younger, feminine impression of Dionysios as she enters the Dikastrio with her family, and like her father she is one step ahead of her enemies. Nethis’s father maybe well and speaking as if he was of the mind behind all that has happened as of late, but what happens tonight should be his recollection of the weapon he created.
After whispering off her commands to her brother, Nethis eyed the crowd for a moment as she picked out familiar faces. Prince Stephanos of Mikaelidas was the first one she noticed… given the good times they’ve shared in their youths it behooves the Prince to acknowledge her… Although, little birds have sung that the Taengean Prince was in Colchis as a guest of the Crown, which was to be expected, though she is sure they will be speaking eventually. The Queen Dowager should have been an immediate recognition, and it saddens Nethis to know that it wasn’t her son to have drowned underneath Poseidon’s wrath. Although, Nethis is glad that Vangelis’s life was not claimed by the gods, because now she can witness glory. Nethis was brought out of her thoughts at the soft words of her youngest sister inquiring on what should be done with father and the wait of their new King. Nethis was about to speak, as she naturally felt like the fixer of situations, but her father filled in that role at the utterance of his own commands. Nethis saw eyes of onlookers dart towards the choice of words her father aired, though the eldest daughter spoke up to her father, “Indeed father, may we no longer wait… I am sure you may eventually feel too tired to continue standing,” Nethis said with a little charm, “Evras help our father to the tables, where we all may sit and wait for the King.” Truthfully, Nethis was just as eager to get to the royal table, but patience is the only way Nethis can make sure everything will be going according to plan. Her contact should have already done what was arranged.
Nethis watched as she saw her father’s stubbornness and refusal to be weak once he brushed the help of Evras to seat himself. The Lady of House Thanasi took her father’s left side as she stood next to her father like an overarching shadow. To be seated when no one else is seated will surely bring more eyes on the Thanasi House, and it should be under their best interest to remain as out the way as possible – sadly, that’s not what Dionysios had in mind. Nethis fell into her seat just before the announcement of the King, immediately her eyes turned to see him dressed in fine linen with a chiton sporting his royalty. The look Nethis expressed was solemn, though on the inside she felt like a predator that knew it was closing in on its prey, and all Nethis could see now was the lifeless face of Vangelis of Kotas.
She had been dreading this moment since the moment Princess Evras had ordered her presence at the feast. While it was true she was not unaccustomed to serving -- Aeton had her do such things many a time -- she was not used to being alone in a room full of strangers. She knew Zanon would be there, of course, and it was some small comfort to her, but it paled in comparison to the terror that stirred in her stomach to see all these new faces.
Faces of people that outranked her in every way, shape, and form. She sorely hoped they would simply ignore her and she would not have to embarrass herself by trying to figure out how to address them. There were so many things to keep track of; House this and House that, Lord this and Lady that. How anyone managed to keep all of those names straight was beyond her and that was frustrating. She should have known these things by now
Leaning against the wall waiting with the other servants, Ariah stared at her feet rather than the chatting nobility, even when the King himself arrived. She’d never noticed her habit of staring while she resided with Aeton, but it seemed than Colchian nobility did not take too kindly to staring slaves. Of course, that didn’t stop her from trying to listen in on their conversation and glean names from the exchanges, among other things. It was becoming rapidly apparent to her that Colchis was unlike anything she had ever experienced -- it would be best if she learned how to handle it now.
Hopefully, she would not be noticed, the event would go well, and she could go back to what was comfortable.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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She had been dreading this moment since the moment Princess Evras had ordered her presence at the feast. While it was true she was not unaccustomed to serving -- Aeton had her do such things many a time -- she was not used to being alone in a room full of strangers. She knew Zanon would be there, of course, and it was some small comfort to her, but it paled in comparison to the terror that stirred in her stomach to see all these new faces.
Faces of people that outranked her in every way, shape, and form. She sorely hoped they would simply ignore her and she would not have to embarrass herself by trying to figure out how to address them. There were so many things to keep track of; House this and House that, Lord this and Lady that. How anyone managed to keep all of those names straight was beyond her and that was frustrating. She should have known these things by now
Leaning against the wall waiting with the other servants, Ariah stared at her feet rather than the chatting nobility, even when the King himself arrived. She’d never noticed her habit of staring while she resided with Aeton, but it seemed than Colchian nobility did not take too kindly to staring slaves. Of course, that didn’t stop her from trying to listen in on their conversation and glean names from the exchanges, among other things. It was becoming rapidly apparent to her that Colchis was unlike anything she had ever experienced -- it would be best if she learned how to handle it now.
Hopefully, she would not be noticed, the event would go well, and she could go back to what was comfortable.
She had been dreading this moment since the moment Princess Evras had ordered her presence at the feast. While it was true she was not unaccustomed to serving -- Aeton had her do such things many a time -- she was not used to being alone in a room full of strangers. She knew Zanon would be there, of course, and it was some small comfort to her, but it paled in comparison to the terror that stirred in her stomach to see all these new faces.
Faces of people that outranked her in every way, shape, and form. She sorely hoped they would simply ignore her and she would not have to embarrass herself by trying to figure out how to address them. There were so many things to keep track of; House this and House that, Lord this and Lady that. How anyone managed to keep all of those names straight was beyond her and that was frustrating. She should have known these things by now
Leaning against the wall waiting with the other servants, Ariah stared at her feet rather than the chatting nobility, even when the King himself arrived. She’d never noticed her habit of staring while she resided with Aeton, but it seemed than Colchian nobility did not take too kindly to staring slaves. Of course, that didn’t stop her from trying to listen in on their conversation and glean names from the exchanges, among other things. It was becoming rapidly apparent to her that Colchis was unlike anything she had ever experienced -- it would be best if she learned how to handle it now.
Hopefully, she would not be noticed, the event would go well, and she could go back to what was comfortable.