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So the wedding hadn't exactly been as what someone expected. An event that was supposed to celebrate new life, that ended in death? That had been the last thing Magnus anticipated as he had skulked about the Mikaelidas manor watching the proceedings of the events. The man had fully intended to return home after the to-do, expecting to report that the new King of Taengea now had a married heir, and the rest of his findings to the King and Vangelis.
What he didn't think he would have to do however, would be to report that Taengea had an entirely new King.
Before he had departed Taengea right on the evening of the wedding, Magnus had dabbled with the idea of writing a letter home, for a homing pigeon would be able to deliver a message far quicker then the week it would take for him to voyage to Colchis. Eventually however, the Master Informer had decided such information far too risky to be written upon a parchment and left to the foibles of an animal to deliver, and had hopped on a ship that night itself, beginning his journey back to Colchis.
Of course, the man had far more reason then just that to return, but as long as the news he had for the royal family of Colchis be worth his return, Magnus saw no reason why anyone else should question his early departure from Taengea.
The journey had taken a tad longer then expected however, or maybe it just felt longer to Magnus, when he was once again alone on a ship. The last trip from Taengea back to Colchis had felt as if it took no time at all, but as he stood on the prow of the ship, the man chuckled wryly to himself as he remembered the companionship he had then, which made time past far quicker then he'd like. so for now, the dark haired spymaster would just have to buckle down and bear with it. If he could take being away for a month from Taengea, a week should be esy, right?
Except it wasn't. The man had finished compiling his reports of the past month he had spent in Taengea within the first four days, and by the last three days, he was chomping at the bit to get back to Colchis, that by the time the ship arrived, Magnus had quickly hired a horse which would bring him quickly to the Kotas manor, where he assumed everyone would be.
But his informants were quick to inform him before the man even got on the back of his horse, that there would be no one save a very young princess guarded in the manor with servants to ensure her safety and care. A feast was being held in the honor of... Taengeans? Oh, so that was where the Lady Leventi and the young Nana of Leventi had whisked off to, for Magnus had only caught a brief glimpse of them during the wedding.
Asking around was enough to let Magnus know that the two Leventi's had arrived just a sparse few hours before he had, but he also found out a whole lot more then just that. His jaw had dropped when he found out that a ship that had been dragged on shore apparently contained the body of Tython, and that Vangelis was now King. All of that merely resulted in Magnus riding to the Dikastirio at a pace no longer called quick, frowning when he finally arrived to find the doors to the hall opened wide. Weren't they usually closed as an event ran its course?
Frowning in curiosity, the man cladded in a simple maroon chiton, looking far more in a disarray for he had not even stopped to refresh himself after the long voyage, paced carefully into the entrance of the hall. There, Magnus paused, blinking in surprise when he saw... the back of who he knew to be King Tython. Was he not just told the King had been dead?
Too much information swirling around in his head at one go, his eyes instinctively swung to find his sister's head, assuming she would be here. The man frowned when he saw her standing near a man, and then frther frowned when he saw Iolanthe standing near her. Magnus was too far to see what her expressions were, but something told her it wasn't alright, yet before he could venture further in to check on the two ladies, a firm, strong voice stopped him.
"Magnus, did you just arrive?"
Immediately focusing on the King, as one did when one was addressed by him, Magnus dropped in a bow as a greeting, before he nodded, curious look still in his eye as he briefly wondered what in Hades's name was going on. "I did, Your Majesty. To... the knowledge that apparently much has went on in my absence. I apologize for my prolonged departure." He bowed again, and then looked up as the King asked again.
"What's going on?"
"In Taengea, Your Majesty?" he asked in return, and seeing the nod, the man responded. "I have much to report, and will do so once we are able to have quiet moment with Prince Vangelis, but... for now, I can tell you that the King Irakles is dead a week ago, Your Majesty. Prince Achilleas has now most definitely been crowned King, while Prince Emilios has been recognized as the Crown Prince and Head of Dynasteia Mikaelidas." Briefly, Magnus's eyes flickered to find the runaway supposed King of Taengea accused of treason, before he finished. "But that doesn't mean whatever danger is past, for now. Egypt... is unsettled. The visitor who had came to Taengea just a few weeks ago has not returned in good faith, it would seem, my King. My sources tell me ships are being amassed in large numbers, numbers that would no way come in peace."
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So the wedding hadn't exactly been as what someone expected. An event that was supposed to celebrate new life, that ended in death? That had been the last thing Magnus anticipated as he had skulked about the Mikaelidas manor watching the proceedings of the events. The man had fully intended to return home after the to-do, expecting to report that the new King of Taengea now had a married heir, and the rest of his findings to the King and Vangelis.
What he didn't think he would have to do however, would be to report that Taengea had an entirely new King.
Before he had departed Taengea right on the evening of the wedding, Magnus had dabbled with the idea of writing a letter home, for a homing pigeon would be able to deliver a message far quicker then the week it would take for him to voyage to Colchis. Eventually however, the Master Informer had decided such information far too risky to be written upon a parchment and left to the foibles of an animal to deliver, and had hopped on a ship that night itself, beginning his journey back to Colchis.
Of course, the man had far more reason then just that to return, but as long as the news he had for the royal family of Colchis be worth his return, Magnus saw no reason why anyone else should question his early departure from Taengea.
The journey had taken a tad longer then expected however, or maybe it just felt longer to Magnus, when he was once again alone on a ship. The last trip from Taengea back to Colchis had felt as if it took no time at all, but as he stood on the prow of the ship, the man chuckled wryly to himself as he remembered the companionship he had then, which made time past far quicker then he'd like. so for now, the dark haired spymaster would just have to buckle down and bear with it. If he could take being away for a month from Taengea, a week should be esy, right?
Except it wasn't. The man had finished compiling his reports of the past month he had spent in Taengea within the first four days, and by the last three days, he was chomping at the bit to get back to Colchis, that by the time the ship arrived, Magnus had quickly hired a horse which would bring him quickly to the Kotas manor, where he assumed everyone would be.
But his informants were quick to inform him before the man even got on the back of his horse, that there would be no one save a very young princess guarded in the manor with servants to ensure her safety and care. A feast was being held in the honor of... Taengeans? Oh, so that was where the Lady Leventi and the young Nana of Leventi had whisked off to, for Magnus had only caught a brief glimpse of them during the wedding.
Asking around was enough to let Magnus know that the two Leventi's had arrived just a sparse few hours before he had, but he also found out a whole lot more then just that. His jaw had dropped when he found out that a ship that had been dragged on shore apparently contained the body of Tython, and that Vangelis was now King. All of that merely resulted in Magnus riding to the Dikastirio at a pace no longer called quick, frowning when he finally arrived to find the doors to the hall opened wide. Weren't they usually closed as an event ran its course?
Frowning in curiosity, the man cladded in a simple maroon chiton, looking far more in a disarray for he had not even stopped to refresh himself after the long voyage, paced carefully into the entrance of the hall. There, Magnus paused, blinking in surprise when he saw... the back of who he knew to be King Tython. Was he not just told the King had been dead?
Too much information swirling around in his head at one go, his eyes instinctively swung to find his sister's head, assuming she would be here. The man frowned when he saw her standing near a man, and then frther frowned when he saw Iolanthe standing near her. Magnus was too far to see what her expressions were, but something told her it wasn't alright, yet before he could venture further in to check on the two ladies, a firm, strong voice stopped him.
"Magnus, did you just arrive?"
Immediately focusing on the King, as one did when one was addressed by him, Magnus dropped in a bow as a greeting, before he nodded, curious look still in his eye as he briefly wondered what in Hades's name was going on. "I did, Your Majesty. To... the knowledge that apparently much has went on in my absence. I apologize for my prolonged departure." He bowed again, and then looked up as the King asked again.
"What's going on?"
"In Taengea, Your Majesty?" he asked in return, and seeing the nod, the man responded. "I have much to report, and will do so once we are able to have quiet moment with Prince Vangelis, but... for now, I can tell you that the King Irakles is dead a week ago, Your Majesty. Prince Achilleas has now most definitely been crowned King, while Prince Emilios has been recognized as the Crown Prince and Head of Dynasteia Mikaelidas." Briefly, Magnus's eyes flickered to find the runaway supposed King of Taengea accused of treason, before he finished. "But that doesn't mean whatever danger is past, for now. Egypt... is unsettled. The visitor who had came to Taengea just a few weeks ago has not returned in good faith, it would seem, my King. My sources tell me ships are being amassed in large numbers, numbers that would no way come in peace."
So the wedding hadn't exactly been as what someone expected. An event that was supposed to celebrate new life, that ended in death? That had been the last thing Magnus anticipated as he had skulked about the Mikaelidas manor watching the proceedings of the events. The man had fully intended to return home after the to-do, expecting to report that the new King of Taengea now had a married heir, and the rest of his findings to the King and Vangelis.
What he didn't think he would have to do however, would be to report that Taengea had an entirely new King.
Before he had departed Taengea right on the evening of the wedding, Magnus had dabbled with the idea of writing a letter home, for a homing pigeon would be able to deliver a message far quicker then the week it would take for him to voyage to Colchis. Eventually however, the Master Informer had decided such information far too risky to be written upon a parchment and left to the foibles of an animal to deliver, and had hopped on a ship that night itself, beginning his journey back to Colchis.
Of course, the man had far more reason then just that to return, but as long as the news he had for the royal family of Colchis be worth his return, Magnus saw no reason why anyone else should question his early departure from Taengea.
The journey had taken a tad longer then expected however, or maybe it just felt longer to Magnus, when he was once again alone on a ship. The last trip from Taengea back to Colchis had felt as if it took no time at all, but as he stood on the prow of the ship, the man chuckled wryly to himself as he remembered the companionship he had then, which made time past far quicker then he'd like. so for now, the dark haired spymaster would just have to buckle down and bear with it. If he could take being away for a month from Taengea, a week should be esy, right?
Except it wasn't. The man had finished compiling his reports of the past month he had spent in Taengea within the first four days, and by the last three days, he was chomping at the bit to get back to Colchis, that by the time the ship arrived, Magnus had quickly hired a horse which would bring him quickly to the Kotas manor, where he assumed everyone would be.
But his informants were quick to inform him before the man even got on the back of his horse, that there would be no one save a very young princess guarded in the manor with servants to ensure her safety and care. A feast was being held in the honor of... Taengeans? Oh, so that was where the Lady Leventi and the young Nana of Leventi had whisked off to, for Magnus had only caught a brief glimpse of them during the wedding.
Asking around was enough to let Magnus know that the two Leventi's had arrived just a sparse few hours before he had, but he also found out a whole lot more then just that. His jaw had dropped when he found out that a ship that had been dragged on shore apparently contained the body of Tython, and that Vangelis was now King. All of that merely resulted in Magnus riding to the Dikastirio at a pace no longer called quick, frowning when he finally arrived to find the doors to the hall opened wide. Weren't they usually closed as an event ran its course?
Frowning in curiosity, the man cladded in a simple maroon chiton, looking far more in a disarray for he had not even stopped to refresh himself after the long voyage, paced carefully into the entrance of the hall. There, Magnus paused, blinking in surprise when he saw... the back of who he knew to be King Tython. Was he not just told the King had been dead?
Too much information swirling around in his head at one go, his eyes instinctively swung to find his sister's head, assuming she would be here. The man frowned when he saw her standing near a man, and then frther frowned when he saw Iolanthe standing near her. Magnus was too far to see what her expressions were, but something told her it wasn't alright, yet before he could venture further in to check on the two ladies, a firm, strong voice stopped him.
"Magnus, did you just arrive?"
Immediately focusing on the King, as one did when one was addressed by him, Magnus dropped in a bow as a greeting, before he nodded, curious look still in his eye as he briefly wondered what in Hades's name was going on. "I did, Your Majesty. To... the knowledge that apparently much has went on in my absence. I apologize for my prolonged departure." He bowed again, and then looked up as the King asked again.
"What's going on?"
"In Taengea, Your Majesty?" he asked in return, and seeing the nod, the man responded. "I have much to report, and will do so once we are able to have quiet moment with Prince Vangelis, but... for now, I can tell you that the King Irakles is dead a week ago, Your Majesty. Prince Achilleas has now most definitely been crowned King, while Prince Emilios has been recognized as the Crown Prince and Head of Dynasteia Mikaelidas." Briefly, Magnus's eyes flickered to find the runaway supposed King of Taengea accused of treason, before he finished. "But that doesn't mean whatever danger is past, for now. Egypt... is unsettled. The visitor who had came to Taengea just a few weeks ago has not returned in good faith, it would seem, my King. My sources tell me ships are being amassed in large numbers, numbers that would no way come in peace."
She was being pointed at. No. Ariah hadn’t the chance to even process who approached her before she was seized by the wrist and roughly jerked towards two guards. Her eyes traveled to her master as the man who grabbed her accused her of what carried a death sentence. But she hadn’t done it. Not intentionally. Yes, it was by her hand the king was served poison, but she would never have attempted to murder another human being, let alone a king. Did they not understand this? But of course they did not. She was a foreigner to them, a strange woman who should not have been there to begin with. They held her as such.
And she was going to die.
Die not from unwittingly serving the king poison, but from whatever was banging at the doors. There was a call to send women and children to the kitchens, but she did not hear it. How could she with her heart beating so quickly it might burst from her chest? Her eyes, wide with terror looked to the doors as they broke down and expected then to perish by the hand of whomever had barged in. She did not recognize their uniforms, or anything of that matter. Not the men and not the man whom removed his helmet, not the other man who wielded a blade to stab the first.
She didn’t bring bother to look to see what might happen next. That didn’t matter. She was a dead woman walking. Her body quivering with the weight of dread that consumed her being. They had weapons! These people, these Colchians, were insane, utterly insane! What had she done, exactly, to end up in this place? There was little she could do but stand frozen in fear as she tried to keep herself from crying. Someone knew the truth. Someone had to.
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She was being pointed at. No. Ariah hadn’t the chance to even process who approached her before she was seized by the wrist and roughly jerked towards two guards. Her eyes traveled to her master as the man who grabbed her accused her of what carried a death sentence. But she hadn’t done it. Not intentionally. Yes, it was by her hand the king was served poison, but she would never have attempted to murder another human being, let alone a king. Did they not understand this? But of course they did not. She was a foreigner to them, a strange woman who should not have been there to begin with. They held her as such.
And she was going to die.
Die not from unwittingly serving the king poison, but from whatever was banging at the doors. There was a call to send women and children to the kitchens, but she did not hear it. How could she with her heart beating so quickly it might burst from her chest? Her eyes, wide with terror looked to the doors as they broke down and expected then to perish by the hand of whomever had barged in. She did not recognize their uniforms, or anything of that matter. Not the men and not the man whom removed his helmet, not the other man who wielded a blade to stab the first.
She didn’t bring bother to look to see what might happen next. That didn’t matter. She was a dead woman walking. Her body quivering with the weight of dread that consumed her being. They had weapons! These people, these Colchians, were insane, utterly insane! What had she done, exactly, to end up in this place? There was little she could do but stand frozen in fear as she tried to keep herself from crying. Someone knew the truth. Someone had to.
She was being pointed at. No. Ariah hadn’t the chance to even process who approached her before she was seized by the wrist and roughly jerked towards two guards. Her eyes traveled to her master as the man who grabbed her accused her of what carried a death sentence. But she hadn’t done it. Not intentionally. Yes, it was by her hand the king was served poison, but she would never have attempted to murder another human being, let alone a king. Did they not understand this? But of course they did not. She was a foreigner to them, a strange woman who should not have been there to begin with. They held her as such.
And she was going to die.
Die not from unwittingly serving the king poison, but from whatever was banging at the doors. There was a call to send women and children to the kitchens, but she did not hear it. How could she with her heart beating so quickly it might burst from her chest? Her eyes, wide with terror looked to the doors as they broke down and expected then to perish by the hand of whomever had barged in. She did not recognize their uniforms, or anything of that matter. Not the men and not the man whom removed his helmet, not the other man who wielded a blade to stab the first.
She didn’t bring bother to look to see what might happen next. That didn’t matter. She was a dead woman walking. Her body quivering with the weight of dread that consumed her being. They had weapons! These people, these Colchians, were insane, utterly insane! What had she done, exactly, to end up in this place? There was little she could do but stand frozen in fear as she tried to keep herself from crying. Someone knew the truth. Someone had to.
The banquet had already been full of so much tension. The event had begun poorly enough with the believed death of King Tython casting a pall over the entire meal. It had only gotten worse as she heard the rumors of her having an affair with a pirate spreading throughout the banquet hall. Then she found herself sitting at the same table as Silanos of Valaoritis, a man who was not in her good books by any stretch of the imagination. The poisoning of Vangelis, quickly followed by a group trying to break into the hall had frayed Imeeya’s nerves so badly that the shock of seeing King Tython alive and well had sent her into tears, not to mention the attempt on his life that had occurred so shortly after.
After all that she had expected that Asia, her cousin and her best friend, would have been a kind voice, a calm amongst the storm that this banquet had become. For Asia to be so cruel when Imeeya was only trying to help was the final straw on this long and very trying day. Imeeya felt as if the breath had been knocked out of her. Asia couldn’t have landed a more effective blow if she had aimed a punch directly at Imeeya’s stomach.
“So wanting to know if you’re ok is bothering you now? Is it?” Imeeya fired back at the princess, the volume of her voice rising with every word. “For your information, I do NOT have a pirate friend.” Imeeya paused only long enough for the sarcasm in her voice to reach its full effect. “OR a pirate lover if you need that specific denial.” By this point, Imeeya was loud enough that her voice was carrying throughout the hall, but Imeeya didn’t care. Her anger at such a betrayal from her friend was all-consuming. “I would have thought that you of all people would know better than to believe such idiotic rumors.” Imeeya glared at Asia, her eyes just daring her to try to justify her assumption so that Imeeya could smack those reasons down.
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The banquet had already been full of so much tension. The event had begun poorly enough with the believed death of King Tython casting a pall over the entire meal. It had only gotten worse as she heard the rumors of her having an affair with a pirate spreading throughout the banquet hall. Then she found herself sitting at the same table as Silanos of Valaoritis, a man who was not in her good books by any stretch of the imagination. The poisoning of Vangelis, quickly followed by a group trying to break into the hall had frayed Imeeya’s nerves so badly that the shock of seeing King Tython alive and well had sent her into tears, not to mention the attempt on his life that had occurred so shortly after.
After all that she had expected that Asia, her cousin and her best friend, would have been a kind voice, a calm amongst the storm that this banquet had become. For Asia to be so cruel when Imeeya was only trying to help was the final straw on this long and very trying day. Imeeya felt as if the breath had been knocked out of her. Asia couldn’t have landed a more effective blow if she had aimed a punch directly at Imeeya’s stomach.
“So wanting to know if you’re ok is bothering you now? Is it?” Imeeya fired back at the princess, the volume of her voice rising with every word. “For your information, I do NOT have a pirate friend.” Imeeya paused only long enough for the sarcasm in her voice to reach its full effect. “OR a pirate lover if you need that specific denial.” By this point, Imeeya was loud enough that her voice was carrying throughout the hall, but Imeeya didn’t care. Her anger at such a betrayal from her friend was all-consuming. “I would have thought that you of all people would know better than to believe such idiotic rumors.” Imeeya glared at Asia, her eyes just daring her to try to justify her assumption so that Imeeya could smack those reasons down.
The banquet had already been full of so much tension. The event had begun poorly enough with the believed death of King Tython casting a pall over the entire meal. It had only gotten worse as she heard the rumors of her having an affair with a pirate spreading throughout the banquet hall. Then she found herself sitting at the same table as Silanos of Valaoritis, a man who was not in her good books by any stretch of the imagination. The poisoning of Vangelis, quickly followed by a group trying to break into the hall had frayed Imeeya’s nerves so badly that the shock of seeing King Tython alive and well had sent her into tears, not to mention the attempt on his life that had occurred so shortly after.
After all that she had expected that Asia, her cousin and her best friend, would have been a kind voice, a calm amongst the storm that this banquet had become. For Asia to be so cruel when Imeeya was only trying to help was the final straw on this long and very trying day. Imeeya felt as if the breath had been knocked out of her. Asia couldn’t have landed a more effective blow if she had aimed a punch directly at Imeeya’s stomach.
“So wanting to know if you’re ok is bothering you now? Is it?” Imeeya fired back at the princess, the volume of her voice rising with every word. “For your information, I do NOT have a pirate friend.” Imeeya paused only long enough for the sarcasm in her voice to reach its full effect. “OR a pirate lover if you need that specific denial.” By this point, Imeeya was loud enough that her voice was carrying throughout the hall, but Imeeya didn’t care. Her anger at such a betrayal from her friend was all-consuming. “I would have thought that you of all people would know better than to believe such idiotic rumors.” Imeeya glared at Asia, her eyes just daring her to try to justify her assumption so that Imeeya could smack those reasons down.
Dionysios never saw it coming. His determination and passion for this final opportunity to mould his jealousy into a proactive attack against the one man he had always hated yet was taken to the river Styx before he had had the chance for catharsis... it blinded him; it blinkered him until his vision was a tunnel that only ended in the figure of the Creeder taking the shape of Tython.
It was as if all other elements of reality - rational or not - had been removed from his world. Including the approach of Stephanos of Mikaelidas.
A politician and an aristocrat, Dionysios had no defence against the powerful and much younger military man that brought him to a painful halt. The man might have been a pathetic excuse of a king - one run from his own lands with his tail between his legs - but it didn't make his physique any weaker. His arms felt like steel as they caught around him, forced him to a painful stop, his feet losing their grip on the flagstones beneath his sandals, his dagger disappearing from his grip.
Dionysios shouted, cried out in pain, when his shoulder was popped out of joint and he felt his eyes sting with tears that were more from physical horror than emotional turmoil.
How dare he!
The man had no rights to touch him, as a foreigner and as the new commoner he now was. He would not stand for a nobody, allowed for no reason into the Dikastirio of his great nation, to assault him when it was his duty to protect the nobility from the Shadow King that had turned up to besmirch the throne with his presence.
The throne would go to the crown prince. And then to his nephew. That would be the way it would go, no matter how much he had to orchestrate that himself!
"Get off of me!" He ordered, his voice strained with pain and affront. But the command only succeeded in the Taengea lord handing him over to the guardsmen who, Dionysios now realised, had come rushing forward to support their king.
His words and anger were lost in the hubbub as he felt hands grip around his arms like iron. He threw back one of his elbows in order to wrench feet and felt dampness upon his sleeve implying he had hit the man in the mouth or broken his nose but it was the only strike he was able to strike with. The adrenaline that had sparked him into motion only a few minutes prior had leeched from his muscles and now all he felt was pain and dizziness. His head was desperate to lull in a pathetic gesture of exhaustion but sheer willpower and a pride carved into his very bones, kept him upright.
Which was how he was able to witness his daughter coming over and insisting that the Kotas men treated him with more care.
A soft growl of disapproval, seeped from between his teeth as he glared at his middle daughter. She was going like the youngest one. Soft and overtly compassionate.
"I am no old man, daughter." He grumbled to her, shamed that she would imply so before any and all, regardless of his statistical age. He pulled again to free his arms but the gesture was ineffective. He was left to the mercy of whatever the Kotas decided to do to him...
...For now.
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Dionysios never saw it coming. His determination and passion for this final opportunity to mould his jealousy into a proactive attack against the one man he had always hated yet was taken to the river Styx before he had had the chance for catharsis... it blinded him; it blinkered him until his vision was a tunnel that only ended in the figure of the Creeder taking the shape of Tython.
It was as if all other elements of reality - rational or not - had been removed from his world. Including the approach of Stephanos of Mikaelidas.
A politician and an aristocrat, Dionysios had no defence against the powerful and much younger military man that brought him to a painful halt. The man might have been a pathetic excuse of a king - one run from his own lands with his tail between his legs - but it didn't make his physique any weaker. His arms felt like steel as they caught around him, forced him to a painful stop, his feet losing their grip on the flagstones beneath his sandals, his dagger disappearing from his grip.
Dionysios shouted, cried out in pain, when his shoulder was popped out of joint and he felt his eyes sting with tears that were more from physical horror than emotional turmoil.
How dare he!
The man had no rights to touch him, as a foreigner and as the new commoner he now was. He would not stand for a nobody, allowed for no reason into the Dikastirio of his great nation, to assault him when it was his duty to protect the nobility from the Shadow King that had turned up to besmirch the throne with his presence.
The throne would go to the crown prince. And then to his nephew. That would be the way it would go, no matter how much he had to orchestrate that himself!
"Get off of me!" He ordered, his voice strained with pain and affront. But the command only succeeded in the Taengea lord handing him over to the guardsmen who, Dionysios now realised, had come rushing forward to support their king.
His words and anger were lost in the hubbub as he felt hands grip around his arms like iron. He threw back one of his elbows in order to wrench feet and felt dampness upon his sleeve implying he had hit the man in the mouth or broken his nose but it was the only strike he was able to strike with. The adrenaline that had sparked him into motion only a few minutes prior had leeched from his muscles and now all he felt was pain and dizziness. His head was desperate to lull in a pathetic gesture of exhaustion but sheer willpower and a pride carved into his very bones, kept him upright.
Which was how he was able to witness his daughter coming over and insisting that the Kotas men treated him with more care.
A soft growl of disapproval, seeped from between his teeth as he glared at his middle daughter. She was going like the youngest one. Soft and overtly compassionate.
"I am no old man, daughter." He grumbled to her, shamed that she would imply so before any and all, regardless of his statistical age. He pulled again to free his arms but the gesture was ineffective. He was left to the mercy of whatever the Kotas decided to do to him...
...For now.
Dionysios never saw it coming. His determination and passion for this final opportunity to mould his jealousy into a proactive attack against the one man he had always hated yet was taken to the river Styx before he had had the chance for catharsis... it blinded him; it blinkered him until his vision was a tunnel that only ended in the figure of the Creeder taking the shape of Tython.
It was as if all other elements of reality - rational or not - had been removed from his world. Including the approach of Stephanos of Mikaelidas.
A politician and an aristocrat, Dionysios had no defence against the powerful and much younger military man that brought him to a painful halt. The man might have been a pathetic excuse of a king - one run from his own lands with his tail between his legs - but it didn't make his physique any weaker. His arms felt like steel as they caught around him, forced him to a painful stop, his feet losing their grip on the flagstones beneath his sandals, his dagger disappearing from his grip.
Dionysios shouted, cried out in pain, when his shoulder was popped out of joint and he felt his eyes sting with tears that were more from physical horror than emotional turmoil.
How dare he!
The man had no rights to touch him, as a foreigner and as the new commoner he now was. He would not stand for a nobody, allowed for no reason into the Dikastirio of his great nation, to assault him when it was his duty to protect the nobility from the Shadow King that had turned up to besmirch the throne with his presence.
The throne would go to the crown prince. And then to his nephew. That would be the way it would go, no matter how much he had to orchestrate that himself!
"Get off of me!" He ordered, his voice strained with pain and affront. But the command only succeeded in the Taengea lord handing him over to the guardsmen who, Dionysios now realised, had come rushing forward to support their king.
His words and anger were lost in the hubbub as he felt hands grip around his arms like iron. He threw back one of his elbows in order to wrench feet and felt dampness upon his sleeve implying he had hit the man in the mouth or broken his nose but it was the only strike he was able to strike with. The adrenaline that had sparked him into motion only a few minutes prior had leeched from his muscles and now all he felt was pain and dizziness. His head was desperate to lull in a pathetic gesture of exhaustion but sheer willpower and a pride carved into his very bones, kept him upright.
Which was how he was able to witness his daughter coming over and insisting that the Kotas men treated him with more care.
A soft growl of disapproval, seeped from between his teeth as he glared at his middle daughter. She was going like the youngest one. Soft and overtly compassionate.
"I am no old man, daughter." He grumbled to her, shamed that she would imply so before any and all, regardless of his statistical age. He pulled again to free his arms but the gesture was ineffective. He was left to the mercy of whatever the Kotas decided to do to him...
...For now.
Vangelis couldn't move quickly enough. He wished to. He wanted to. He commanded his body to. But whether it was some sort of delayed fear for his father's life paralyzing his muscles - unlikely - or his recent brush with death seeping the energy from his limbs, he was neither certain nor aware. All he could register in that moment of emergency was that, in his mind, he was charging forwards, placing himself between his father and the patriarch of the Thanasi family, raising the blade he had foolishly let slip from his hand earlier and defending his family from attack.
Yet a single and now unsteady step was all that actually happened. Somehow, all strength that had transfused him in moving around the head table and getting him into battle-ready position before the assaulted door had disappeared, leaving only languor and lethargy. Perhaps the shock and relief of witnessing his father still alive had taken it from him. Perhaps the Gods were playing with him. Perhaps the adrenaline had simply worn off in the moment when he thought that danger was no longer an imminent threat.
Foolish. Stupid. Weak.
Because, regardless of the reason, Vangelis was not the one to leap forward to the rescue of his sister and father. Instead, he was forced to witness a new reality, as his body failed him - one where he remained king through Tython's sacrificial protection of his only daughter. A reality in which Dionysios ran his father through in a random fit of insanity.
The nightmare was replaced, however, when Stephanos of Mikaelidas chose the most opportune moment to repay him for his actions in Taengea. In exchange for a rescue and escape from behind barred doors, Stephanos gave Vangelis the hands and feet that moved as he wished to but was unable. In a series of quick motions, militant and effective, Stephanos had Dionysios disarmed, his shoulder removed from its socket and his attack reduced to little of concern. His actions were quick and without drama besides the cry of pain from the would-be assassin. But they were actions significant enough to change the course of Colchian history for the better.
Vangelis watched with wide eyes as Stephanos eradicated the nightmare from before his eyes and offered him the first safe breath he had taken since his father had walked through the doors of the Dikastirio.
He didn't have the opportunity to find Stephanos' gaze. If he had, he would have made sure to hold it. To communicate in the silent way men of war could. Tell him of his gratitude and what he owed to him in that moment. Instead, his attention was foggy in the best of times and now distracted by a pleasant fragrance and the appearance of Selene at his side. In her hand was a wisp of cloth, soaked wet.
He knew the care she was offering him but Vangelis was careful to straighten his spine in a manner that risked his balance, but held him true. He reached out to place a hand over hers where it held the saturated fabric. His palm pushed out against the back of her hand, moving it closer to herself in a polite rejection. The corner of his mouth curled in thanks as he met her stare and he then turned to watch as Dionysios was handed over between Stephanos and the guards of the chamber. He watched as Maleos took the dagger from Thea, as men started to command the dispersal of guests and taking note of who was within the building before they were permitted to leave.
Then Selene was offering him his sword. Calling him 'prince'.
The word would have shocked him if he had been monarch long enough to be used to the term of king. Instead, the word felt familiar - a soft and comfortable return to his usual and rightful state.
It was as he was sheathing the weapon, careful to do so with stoic slowness instead of hurried shakiness, that Vangelis caught the movement of his brother to his right.
The attack upon the king, the stopping of the Thanasi assassin.... the fact that Vangelis had put away his weapon clearly not willing to engage in violence despite the attempt that had just been enacted upon his father's life... whatever the reason, Zanon was ready to step forward, a look of thunder on his face as his gaze zeroed in on Dionysios.
This time, Vangelis was able to react, and his hand reached out to grab Zanon before he had taken more than a single step. He didn't speak. Didn't openly tell his brother 'no' or command him in some way. The hand upon his arm was a silent command in its own right. A restraint that stopped the loyal son from overpowering the dutiful husband. Vangelis wasn't about to let Zanon kill his own father-in-law.
Swallowing her to clear his voice from rasping weakness, Vangelis gave orders before the second prince could continue with his murderous desires regardless.
"Escort Dionysios of Thanasi..." His words halted for a moment, mid-order to have Dionysios sent to the underground prison in the capital... "...to the order house of the Red Knights." He said, his gaze falling upon Thea. He couldn't have Dionysios return to any family home or keep him close to the offspring that might aid him - such as Dysius or Nethis. But he also didn't feel that condemning the old man to a cell in the damp and dirty underground dungeons was an appropriate answer when the man was Thea's father. The order house was not as grand or impressive as that in Taengea for their Order. It was more a two storey, one-bedroom home within the Upper Levels that was used whenever Vangelis was in the capital as an administration and tactical office for his military men. But guarded by Nike and his own soldiers... it would be just as secure as the fylaki beneath the earth.
Vangelis looked from Thea to Nike as he made the order.
"No-one is to harm him. He's to remain there for questioning."
As he was speaking, dealing with one issue at a time, Vangelis spotted Magnus joining the fray and confusion of the chamber. He kept his focus where it was, however, as the man moved to speak with his father.
As he had felt his brother's arm tense beneath his hold as he had instructed Dionysios not to be harmed, Vangelis knew that he had to distract the man with something else, direct his fury into a more productive solution. He pulled on the man's arm, turning him towards their father and sister.
"Take Asia." He told the man in a hushed tone. "Take her, Evras and Dion back to the Kotas manor and get them safe." The words were an encouragement to his brother but also an order from the crown prince. This was not the time or place for more violence.
Looking around to Selene who still hovered cautiously at his side, Vangelis remained calm and determined as he extended the order.
"Go with him." He told her, with a desire to see her safe back at his home.
Taking their following of his instructions as followed, Vangelis stepped away from them, managing to keep his steps steady and drawing close to the king, where he overheard Magnus' report from Taengea.
"I will inform Stephanos." He told his father, looking around for the Taengean king and finding him with his wife. From this new position, Vangelis saw Stephanos' wound for the first time, and his brow dropped with concern.
"Magnus, have Stephanos and his wife brought to the ante-chamber. And have a physician summoned there immediately."
This was Vangelis last order before he walked with all the stoicism he could muster to the ante-chamber currently guarded by two soldiers who stepped aside for his entry.
As soon as he had shut the door - Magnus would open it again when he returned with the intended guests - Vangelis practically collapsed into one of the chairs kept within the room that was predominantly used to collate the notes taken during Senate meets.
It was only then that his muscles started to really resist him and his stomach seized and he thought he might vomit again. But at least he could let the discomfort out through his features this time and not have to hide behind the mask of the Stone Prince.
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Vangelis couldn't move quickly enough. He wished to. He wanted to. He commanded his body to. But whether it was some sort of delayed fear for his father's life paralyzing his muscles - unlikely - or his recent brush with death seeping the energy from his limbs, he was neither certain nor aware. All he could register in that moment of emergency was that, in his mind, he was charging forwards, placing himself between his father and the patriarch of the Thanasi family, raising the blade he had foolishly let slip from his hand earlier and defending his family from attack.
Yet a single and now unsteady step was all that actually happened. Somehow, all strength that had transfused him in moving around the head table and getting him into battle-ready position before the assaulted door had disappeared, leaving only languor and lethargy. Perhaps the shock and relief of witnessing his father still alive had taken it from him. Perhaps the Gods were playing with him. Perhaps the adrenaline had simply worn off in the moment when he thought that danger was no longer an imminent threat.
Foolish. Stupid. Weak.
Because, regardless of the reason, Vangelis was not the one to leap forward to the rescue of his sister and father. Instead, he was forced to witness a new reality, as his body failed him - one where he remained king through Tython's sacrificial protection of his only daughter. A reality in which Dionysios ran his father through in a random fit of insanity.
The nightmare was replaced, however, when Stephanos of Mikaelidas chose the most opportune moment to repay him for his actions in Taengea. In exchange for a rescue and escape from behind barred doors, Stephanos gave Vangelis the hands and feet that moved as he wished to but was unable. In a series of quick motions, militant and effective, Stephanos had Dionysios disarmed, his shoulder removed from its socket and his attack reduced to little of concern. His actions were quick and without drama besides the cry of pain from the would-be assassin. But they were actions significant enough to change the course of Colchian history for the better.
Vangelis watched with wide eyes as Stephanos eradicated the nightmare from before his eyes and offered him the first safe breath he had taken since his father had walked through the doors of the Dikastirio.
He didn't have the opportunity to find Stephanos' gaze. If he had, he would have made sure to hold it. To communicate in the silent way men of war could. Tell him of his gratitude and what he owed to him in that moment. Instead, his attention was foggy in the best of times and now distracted by a pleasant fragrance and the appearance of Selene at his side. In her hand was a wisp of cloth, soaked wet.
He knew the care she was offering him but Vangelis was careful to straighten his spine in a manner that risked his balance, but held him true. He reached out to place a hand over hers where it held the saturated fabric. His palm pushed out against the back of her hand, moving it closer to herself in a polite rejection. The corner of his mouth curled in thanks as he met her stare and he then turned to watch as Dionysios was handed over between Stephanos and the guards of the chamber. He watched as Maleos took the dagger from Thea, as men started to command the dispersal of guests and taking note of who was within the building before they were permitted to leave.
Then Selene was offering him his sword. Calling him 'prince'.
The word would have shocked him if he had been monarch long enough to be used to the term of king. Instead, the word felt familiar - a soft and comfortable return to his usual and rightful state.
It was as he was sheathing the weapon, careful to do so with stoic slowness instead of hurried shakiness, that Vangelis caught the movement of his brother to his right.
The attack upon the king, the stopping of the Thanasi assassin.... the fact that Vangelis had put away his weapon clearly not willing to engage in violence despite the attempt that had just been enacted upon his father's life... whatever the reason, Zanon was ready to step forward, a look of thunder on his face as his gaze zeroed in on Dionysios.
This time, Vangelis was able to react, and his hand reached out to grab Zanon before he had taken more than a single step. He didn't speak. Didn't openly tell his brother 'no' or command him in some way. The hand upon his arm was a silent command in its own right. A restraint that stopped the loyal son from overpowering the dutiful husband. Vangelis wasn't about to let Zanon kill his own father-in-law.
Swallowing her to clear his voice from rasping weakness, Vangelis gave orders before the second prince could continue with his murderous desires regardless.
"Escort Dionysios of Thanasi..." His words halted for a moment, mid-order to have Dionysios sent to the underground prison in the capital... "...to the order house of the Red Knights." He said, his gaze falling upon Thea. He couldn't have Dionysios return to any family home or keep him close to the offspring that might aid him - such as Dysius or Nethis. But he also didn't feel that condemning the old man to a cell in the damp and dirty underground dungeons was an appropriate answer when the man was Thea's father. The order house was not as grand or impressive as that in Taengea for their Order. It was more a two storey, one-bedroom home within the Upper Levels that was used whenever Vangelis was in the capital as an administration and tactical office for his military men. But guarded by Nike and his own soldiers... it would be just as secure as the fylaki beneath the earth.
Vangelis looked from Thea to Nike as he made the order.
"No-one is to harm him. He's to remain there for questioning."
As he was speaking, dealing with one issue at a time, Vangelis spotted Magnus joining the fray and confusion of the chamber. He kept his focus where it was, however, as the man moved to speak with his father.
As he had felt his brother's arm tense beneath his hold as he had instructed Dionysios not to be harmed, Vangelis knew that he had to distract the man with something else, direct his fury into a more productive solution. He pulled on the man's arm, turning him towards their father and sister.
"Take Asia." He told the man in a hushed tone. "Take her, Evras and Dion back to the Kotas manor and get them safe." The words were an encouragement to his brother but also an order from the crown prince. This was not the time or place for more violence.
Looking around to Selene who still hovered cautiously at his side, Vangelis remained calm and determined as he extended the order.
"Go with him." He told her, with a desire to see her safe back at his home.
Taking their following of his instructions as followed, Vangelis stepped away from them, managing to keep his steps steady and drawing close to the king, where he overheard Magnus' report from Taengea.
"I will inform Stephanos." He told his father, looking around for the Taengean king and finding him with his wife. From this new position, Vangelis saw Stephanos' wound for the first time, and his brow dropped with concern.
"Magnus, have Stephanos and his wife brought to the ante-chamber. And have a physician summoned there immediately."
This was Vangelis last order before he walked with all the stoicism he could muster to the ante-chamber currently guarded by two soldiers who stepped aside for his entry.
As soon as he had shut the door - Magnus would open it again when he returned with the intended guests - Vangelis practically collapsed into one of the chairs kept within the room that was predominantly used to collate the notes taken during Senate meets.
It was only then that his muscles started to really resist him and his stomach seized and he thought he might vomit again. But at least he could let the discomfort out through his features this time and not have to hide behind the mask of the Stone Prince.
Vangelis couldn't move quickly enough. He wished to. He wanted to. He commanded his body to. But whether it was some sort of delayed fear for his father's life paralyzing his muscles - unlikely - or his recent brush with death seeping the energy from his limbs, he was neither certain nor aware. All he could register in that moment of emergency was that, in his mind, he was charging forwards, placing himself between his father and the patriarch of the Thanasi family, raising the blade he had foolishly let slip from his hand earlier and defending his family from attack.
Yet a single and now unsteady step was all that actually happened. Somehow, all strength that had transfused him in moving around the head table and getting him into battle-ready position before the assaulted door had disappeared, leaving only languor and lethargy. Perhaps the shock and relief of witnessing his father still alive had taken it from him. Perhaps the Gods were playing with him. Perhaps the adrenaline had simply worn off in the moment when he thought that danger was no longer an imminent threat.
Foolish. Stupid. Weak.
Because, regardless of the reason, Vangelis was not the one to leap forward to the rescue of his sister and father. Instead, he was forced to witness a new reality, as his body failed him - one where he remained king through Tython's sacrificial protection of his only daughter. A reality in which Dionysios ran his father through in a random fit of insanity.
The nightmare was replaced, however, when Stephanos of Mikaelidas chose the most opportune moment to repay him for his actions in Taengea. In exchange for a rescue and escape from behind barred doors, Stephanos gave Vangelis the hands and feet that moved as he wished to but was unable. In a series of quick motions, militant and effective, Stephanos had Dionysios disarmed, his shoulder removed from its socket and his attack reduced to little of concern. His actions were quick and without drama besides the cry of pain from the would-be assassin. But they were actions significant enough to change the course of Colchian history for the better.
Vangelis watched with wide eyes as Stephanos eradicated the nightmare from before his eyes and offered him the first safe breath he had taken since his father had walked through the doors of the Dikastirio.
He didn't have the opportunity to find Stephanos' gaze. If he had, he would have made sure to hold it. To communicate in the silent way men of war could. Tell him of his gratitude and what he owed to him in that moment. Instead, his attention was foggy in the best of times and now distracted by a pleasant fragrance and the appearance of Selene at his side. In her hand was a wisp of cloth, soaked wet.
He knew the care she was offering him but Vangelis was careful to straighten his spine in a manner that risked his balance, but held him true. He reached out to place a hand over hers where it held the saturated fabric. His palm pushed out against the back of her hand, moving it closer to herself in a polite rejection. The corner of his mouth curled in thanks as he met her stare and he then turned to watch as Dionysios was handed over between Stephanos and the guards of the chamber. He watched as Maleos took the dagger from Thea, as men started to command the dispersal of guests and taking note of who was within the building before they were permitted to leave.
Then Selene was offering him his sword. Calling him 'prince'.
The word would have shocked him if he had been monarch long enough to be used to the term of king. Instead, the word felt familiar - a soft and comfortable return to his usual and rightful state.
It was as he was sheathing the weapon, careful to do so with stoic slowness instead of hurried shakiness, that Vangelis caught the movement of his brother to his right.
The attack upon the king, the stopping of the Thanasi assassin.... the fact that Vangelis had put away his weapon clearly not willing to engage in violence despite the attempt that had just been enacted upon his father's life... whatever the reason, Zanon was ready to step forward, a look of thunder on his face as his gaze zeroed in on Dionysios.
This time, Vangelis was able to react, and his hand reached out to grab Zanon before he had taken more than a single step. He didn't speak. Didn't openly tell his brother 'no' or command him in some way. The hand upon his arm was a silent command in its own right. A restraint that stopped the loyal son from overpowering the dutiful husband. Vangelis wasn't about to let Zanon kill his own father-in-law.
Swallowing her to clear his voice from rasping weakness, Vangelis gave orders before the second prince could continue with his murderous desires regardless.
"Escort Dionysios of Thanasi..." His words halted for a moment, mid-order to have Dionysios sent to the underground prison in the capital... "...to the order house of the Red Knights." He said, his gaze falling upon Thea. He couldn't have Dionysios return to any family home or keep him close to the offspring that might aid him - such as Dysius or Nethis. But he also didn't feel that condemning the old man to a cell in the damp and dirty underground dungeons was an appropriate answer when the man was Thea's father. The order house was not as grand or impressive as that in Taengea for their Order. It was more a two storey, one-bedroom home within the Upper Levels that was used whenever Vangelis was in the capital as an administration and tactical office for his military men. But guarded by Nike and his own soldiers... it would be just as secure as the fylaki beneath the earth.
Vangelis looked from Thea to Nike as he made the order.
"No-one is to harm him. He's to remain there for questioning."
As he was speaking, dealing with one issue at a time, Vangelis spotted Magnus joining the fray and confusion of the chamber. He kept his focus where it was, however, as the man moved to speak with his father.
As he had felt his brother's arm tense beneath his hold as he had instructed Dionysios not to be harmed, Vangelis knew that he had to distract the man with something else, direct his fury into a more productive solution. He pulled on the man's arm, turning him towards their father and sister.
"Take Asia." He told the man in a hushed tone. "Take her, Evras and Dion back to the Kotas manor and get them safe." The words were an encouragement to his brother but also an order from the crown prince. This was not the time or place for more violence.
Looking around to Selene who still hovered cautiously at his side, Vangelis remained calm and determined as he extended the order.
"Go with him." He told her, with a desire to see her safe back at his home.
Taking their following of his instructions as followed, Vangelis stepped away from them, managing to keep his steps steady and drawing close to the king, where he overheard Magnus' report from Taengea.
"I will inform Stephanos." He told his father, looking around for the Taengean king and finding him with his wife. From this new position, Vangelis saw Stephanos' wound for the first time, and his brow dropped with concern.
"Magnus, have Stephanos and his wife brought to the ante-chamber. And have a physician summoned there immediately."
This was Vangelis last order before he walked with all the stoicism he could muster to the ante-chamber currently guarded by two soldiers who stepped aside for his entry.
As soon as he had shut the door - Magnus would open it again when he returned with the intended guests - Vangelis practically collapsed into one of the chairs kept within the room that was predominantly used to collate the notes taken during Senate meets.
It was only then that his muscles started to really resist him and his stomach seized and he thought he might vomit again. But at least he could let the discomfort out through his features this time and not have to hide behind the mask of the Stone Prince.
It was at times like these that Yanni did her best to channel her brother's renowned calm. Whilst she had never been one to hold a reputation of feminine hysteria or eccentric pique, there were circumstances that would tax even the calmest of demeanours. To witness your eldest child almost die, your husband rise from the dead and then almost be killed before you, with your only daughter in harm’s way alongside... even Yanni was struggling and had turned, for just a moment, into the coward she had never had any wish to believe herself to be.
She closed her eyes.
In that moment, when her love and child were at risk of danger, when her sons were too far away to save them and Yanni even further... she closed her eyes and simply prayed to the Gods that her heart would not break into a million pieces.
And for whatever reason, they listened.
In a blue of hurry, emotion and commotion, one former king was saved by another, Dionysios was apprehended and her family were, once more, safe. For how long, she had no idea, for safety seemed to be a fickle thing this evening, but, in that moment, Yanni could breathe.
Across the chaos that the room had descended into, Yanni looked immediately towards her husband and daughter, noting Asia's safety and clocking her husband's gaze. In it, she found a strength of character and purpose that had her back straightening and her voice ringing true, echoing across the walls of the chamber.
Choosing a moment in which Vangelis and Tython had just spoken with the newly arrived Magnus and Vangelis was moving away from the noise and chaos to the ante-chamber, Yanni called out her instructions as the reinstated Queen of Colchis.
"This dinner is over." She called to those who seemed to hush and listen just from the level of clear dignity and honest clarity in her voice. "The Kotas House apologies for the dramatics and insist that all return to their homes for the night. Obey the instructions of the guards and the information they require and you shall not be harmed, but allowed to leave peacefully."
Yanni turned to stare upon the guardsman that was issuing orders before - a young man of the name Maleos she thought. She nodded at him, in a clear bestowing of authority that he should continue as he was, allowing the others to clear Dionysios from the hall.
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It was at times like these that Yanni did her best to channel her brother's renowned calm. Whilst she had never been one to hold a reputation of feminine hysteria or eccentric pique, there were circumstances that would tax even the calmest of demeanours. To witness your eldest child almost die, your husband rise from the dead and then almost be killed before you, with your only daughter in harm’s way alongside... even Yanni was struggling and had turned, for just a moment, into the coward she had never had any wish to believe herself to be.
She closed her eyes.
In that moment, when her love and child were at risk of danger, when her sons were too far away to save them and Yanni even further... she closed her eyes and simply prayed to the Gods that her heart would not break into a million pieces.
And for whatever reason, they listened.
In a blue of hurry, emotion and commotion, one former king was saved by another, Dionysios was apprehended and her family were, once more, safe. For how long, she had no idea, for safety seemed to be a fickle thing this evening, but, in that moment, Yanni could breathe.
Across the chaos that the room had descended into, Yanni looked immediately towards her husband and daughter, noting Asia's safety and clocking her husband's gaze. In it, she found a strength of character and purpose that had her back straightening and her voice ringing true, echoing across the walls of the chamber.
Choosing a moment in which Vangelis and Tython had just spoken with the newly arrived Magnus and Vangelis was moving away from the noise and chaos to the ante-chamber, Yanni called out her instructions as the reinstated Queen of Colchis.
"This dinner is over." She called to those who seemed to hush and listen just from the level of clear dignity and honest clarity in her voice. "The Kotas House apologies for the dramatics and insist that all return to their homes for the night. Obey the instructions of the guards and the information they require and you shall not be harmed, but allowed to leave peacefully."
Yanni turned to stare upon the guardsman that was issuing orders before - a young man of the name Maleos she thought. She nodded at him, in a clear bestowing of authority that he should continue as he was, allowing the others to clear Dionysios from the hall.
It was at times like these that Yanni did her best to channel her brother's renowned calm. Whilst she had never been one to hold a reputation of feminine hysteria or eccentric pique, there were circumstances that would tax even the calmest of demeanours. To witness your eldest child almost die, your husband rise from the dead and then almost be killed before you, with your only daughter in harm’s way alongside... even Yanni was struggling and had turned, for just a moment, into the coward she had never had any wish to believe herself to be.
She closed her eyes.
In that moment, when her love and child were at risk of danger, when her sons were too far away to save them and Yanni even further... she closed her eyes and simply prayed to the Gods that her heart would not break into a million pieces.
And for whatever reason, they listened.
In a blue of hurry, emotion and commotion, one former king was saved by another, Dionysios was apprehended and her family were, once more, safe. For how long, she had no idea, for safety seemed to be a fickle thing this evening, but, in that moment, Yanni could breathe.
Across the chaos that the room had descended into, Yanni looked immediately towards her husband and daughter, noting Asia's safety and clocking her husband's gaze. In it, she found a strength of character and purpose that had her back straightening and her voice ringing true, echoing across the walls of the chamber.
Choosing a moment in which Vangelis and Tython had just spoken with the newly arrived Magnus and Vangelis was moving away from the noise and chaos to the ante-chamber, Yanni called out her instructions as the reinstated Queen of Colchis.
"This dinner is over." She called to those who seemed to hush and listen just from the level of clear dignity and honest clarity in her voice. "The Kotas House apologies for the dramatics and insist that all return to their homes for the night. Obey the instructions of the guards and the information they require and you shall not be harmed, but allowed to leave peacefully."
Yanni turned to stare upon the guardsman that was issuing orders before - a young man of the name Maleos she thought. She nodded at him, in a clear bestowing of authority that he should continue as he was, allowing the others to clear Dionysios from the hall.
Tython wasn't able in that moment to defend himself. Unable to reach for his weapon quickly enough, he knew that he had only two options available to him. Waste time drawing his weapon and keep his daughter between he and his enemy - an enemy that he would not have the time to defend her from - or simply use the time that was not long enough to arm himself, to turn his body and shield his youngest child from harm at the risk of his own life.
As far as Tython was concerned, despite a warrior's heart beating in his chest, there was no choice to be had. He had instantly spun in order to cocoon Asia with his own body.
Tython didn't close his eyes, didn't wince. He didn't brace himself for impact. For there was no fear in something he was allowing to happen. He was perfectly content, in that moment, in the choice that he was making.
Yet, braced for or not, no impact came. Instead, Tython simply heard family sounds of thumps and whacks of body on body and looked around fast enough to watch Dionysios' arm being popped from its socket by a man who bore a striking resemblance to a young Taengean prince he had once seen. Though at the time the boy couldn't have been more than fourteen, fifteen?
Regardless of his age, his familiarity or his purpose here within the Senate hall of his kingdom, Tython was at least thankful for his presence as the man saved his life and potentially that of Asia's.
And whilst the man was pulled away but a woman too worried to be anything other than his wife, before Tython could say anything to him, he made a mental note that he would be thanking the man in as kind as he could before the week was out.
For a Kotas paid his debts.
His attention distracted by Magnus's arrival, Tython stood straight once more, ignored the ramblings of the Thanasi patriarch and simply knew from his eldest son's commands that the man was being taken care of. His daughter, he held onto the shoulders of, offering her a smile of reassurance before he turned to greet his Master Informer, as if it were very day that he was near assassinated.
One thing that could be said for Tython... he wasn't easily rattled.
By the time Magnus had made his report, Vangelis had joined them and the name that left his lips confirmed the king's suspicions regarding his saviour's identity. When he was informed that Irakles of Mikaelidas had both been king and was now dead, Tython was certain that there was much he needed to be caught up on. But, for now, he sensed that his son knew more than he did.
And with an assessing eye to be assured that both Vangelis and his daughter were in good health, Tython leaned down to place a kiss upon the top of Athanasia's head, braced a supportive and trusting hand on Vangelis' shoulder, and then turned towards his second son.
"Zanon. You're in charge of investigating your brother's poisoning. You're not to interfere with the case against Dionysios." This was an instruction that was partially due to his fears that Zanon would not be able to remain impartial in his investigations where the Thanasi was concerned. But also, a gesture of affection. He didn't want to place his second born in that position. "I shall see to that myself."
In the time it had taken to issue the order, two new voices were lent to the mix - that of Mihail of Thanasi and Imeeya of Drakos. With a stern look at the former to warn off any further speech of fraternisation with his daughter, Tython then turned to his niece. His voice was firm but held no real tone of reproach. Just a clear instruction.
"Lady Imeeya, perhaps you can continue this conversation in a place with fewer witnesses." Having heard his eldest son's instruction to Zanon about taking Asia and the more vulnerable members of the family back to the Kotas manor, Tython nudged his head in the direction of the second prince using a quick movement of his hands to turn Athanasia over to her brother's care. "Go with them." He instructed to the young, blonde girl. "I shall send your mother to collect you in due course..."
Leaving the group to organise themselves, for they were adults after all despite petty arguments, Tython turned to find the one woman he had not yet greeted but desperately needed to. He met his wife's eyes and heard her issue the commands of a Queen in a voice that was clear as a full-bodied bell. His lips curled in a smile of pride as he moved between the crowds all milling to hurry and obey Yanni's issued orders.
Stepping to the left and then the right, Tython was quick to reach her because she had started forward in order to meet him half way. And whilst a true reunion would be inappropriate in a public setting, Tython was unable to resist touching her.
Her hands found their way to his chest, his own to her upper arms. He wanted nothing more than to take hold of his wife and kiss her with all the heat and warmth that he possessed as a living, breathing man, but this was neither the time nor the place. For now, he was not content but resigned to simply placing his forehead against herself, closing his eyes and breathing in a scent and aura that he knew to his very soul.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Tython wasn't able in that moment to defend himself. Unable to reach for his weapon quickly enough, he knew that he had only two options available to him. Waste time drawing his weapon and keep his daughter between he and his enemy - an enemy that he would not have the time to defend her from - or simply use the time that was not long enough to arm himself, to turn his body and shield his youngest child from harm at the risk of his own life.
As far as Tython was concerned, despite a warrior's heart beating in his chest, there was no choice to be had. He had instantly spun in order to cocoon Asia with his own body.
Tython didn't close his eyes, didn't wince. He didn't brace himself for impact. For there was no fear in something he was allowing to happen. He was perfectly content, in that moment, in the choice that he was making.
Yet, braced for or not, no impact came. Instead, Tython simply heard family sounds of thumps and whacks of body on body and looked around fast enough to watch Dionysios' arm being popped from its socket by a man who bore a striking resemblance to a young Taengean prince he had once seen. Though at the time the boy couldn't have been more than fourteen, fifteen?
Regardless of his age, his familiarity or his purpose here within the Senate hall of his kingdom, Tython was at least thankful for his presence as the man saved his life and potentially that of Asia's.
And whilst the man was pulled away but a woman too worried to be anything other than his wife, before Tython could say anything to him, he made a mental note that he would be thanking the man in as kind as he could before the week was out.
For a Kotas paid his debts.
His attention distracted by Magnus's arrival, Tython stood straight once more, ignored the ramblings of the Thanasi patriarch and simply knew from his eldest son's commands that the man was being taken care of. His daughter, he held onto the shoulders of, offering her a smile of reassurance before he turned to greet his Master Informer, as if it were very day that he was near assassinated.
One thing that could be said for Tython... he wasn't easily rattled.
By the time Magnus had made his report, Vangelis had joined them and the name that left his lips confirmed the king's suspicions regarding his saviour's identity. When he was informed that Irakles of Mikaelidas had both been king and was now dead, Tython was certain that there was much he needed to be caught up on. But, for now, he sensed that his son knew more than he did.
And with an assessing eye to be assured that both Vangelis and his daughter were in good health, Tython leaned down to place a kiss upon the top of Athanasia's head, braced a supportive and trusting hand on Vangelis' shoulder, and then turned towards his second son.
"Zanon. You're in charge of investigating your brother's poisoning. You're not to interfere with the case against Dionysios." This was an instruction that was partially due to his fears that Zanon would not be able to remain impartial in his investigations where the Thanasi was concerned. But also, a gesture of affection. He didn't want to place his second born in that position. "I shall see to that myself."
In the time it had taken to issue the order, two new voices were lent to the mix - that of Mihail of Thanasi and Imeeya of Drakos. With a stern look at the former to warn off any further speech of fraternisation with his daughter, Tython then turned to his niece. His voice was firm but held no real tone of reproach. Just a clear instruction.
"Lady Imeeya, perhaps you can continue this conversation in a place with fewer witnesses." Having heard his eldest son's instruction to Zanon about taking Asia and the more vulnerable members of the family back to the Kotas manor, Tython nudged his head in the direction of the second prince using a quick movement of his hands to turn Athanasia over to her brother's care. "Go with them." He instructed to the young, blonde girl. "I shall send your mother to collect you in due course..."
Leaving the group to organise themselves, for they were adults after all despite petty arguments, Tython turned to find the one woman he had not yet greeted but desperately needed to. He met his wife's eyes and heard her issue the commands of a Queen in a voice that was clear as a full-bodied bell. His lips curled in a smile of pride as he moved between the crowds all milling to hurry and obey Yanni's issued orders.
Stepping to the left and then the right, Tython was quick to reach her because she had started forward in order to meet him half way. And whilst a true reunion would be inappropriate in a public setting, Tython was unable to resist touching her.
Her hands found their way to his chest, his own to her upper arms. He wanted nothing more than to take hold of his wife and kiss her with all the heat and warmth that he possessed as a living, breathing man, but this was neither the time nor the place. For now, he was not content but resigned to simply placing his forehead against herself, closing his eyes and breathing in a scent and aura that he knew to his very soul.
Tython wasn't able in that moment to defend himself. Unable to reach for his weapon quickly enough, he knew that he had only two options available to him. Waste time drawing his weapon and keep his daughter between he and his enemy - an enemy that he would not have the time to defend her from - or simply use the time that was not long enough to arm himself, to turn his body and shield his youngest child from harm at the risk of his own life.
As far as Tython was concerned, despite a warrior's heart beating in his chest, there was no choice to be had. He had instantly spun in order to cocoon Asia with his own body.
Tython didn't close his eyes, didn't wince. He didn't brace himself for impact. For there was no fear in something he was allowing to happen. He was perfectly content, in that moment, in the choice that he was making.
Yet, braced for or not, no impact came. Instead, Tython simply heard family sounds of thumps and whacks of body on body and looked around fast enough to watch Dionysios' arm being popped from its socket by a man who bore a striking resemblance to a young Taengean prince he had once seen. Though at the time the boy couldn't have been more than fourteen, fifteen?
Regardless of his age, his familiarity or his purpose here within the Senate hall of his kingdom, Tython was at least thankful for his presence as the man saved his life and potentially that of Asia's.
And whilst the man was pulled away but a woman too worried to be anything other than his wife, before Tython could say anything to him, he made a mental note that he would be thanking the man in as kind as he could before the week was out.
For a Kotas paid his debts.
His attention distracted by Magnus's arrival, Tython stood straight once more, ignored the ramblings of the Thanasi patriarch and simply knew from his eldest son's commands that the man was being taken care of. His daughter, he held onto the shoulders of, offering her a smile of reassurance before he turned to greet his Master Informer, as if it were very day that he was near assassinated.
One thing that could be said for Tython... he wasn't easily rattled.
By the time Magnus had made his report, Vangelis had joined them and the name that left his lips confirmed the king's suspicions regarding his saviour's identity. When he was informed that Irakles of Mikaelidas had both been king and was now dead, Tython was certain that there was much he needed to be caught up on. But, for now, he sensed that his son knew more than he did.
And with an assessing eye to be assured that both Vangelis and his daughter were in good health, Tython leaned down to place a kiss upon the top of Athanasia's head, braced a supportive and trusting hand on Vangelis' shoulder, and then turned towards his second son.
"Zanon. You're in charge of investigating your brother's poisoning. You're not to interfere with the case against Dionysios." This was an instruction that was partially due to his fears that Zanon would not be able to remain impartial in his investigations where the Thanasi was concerned. But also, a gesture of affection. He didn't want to place his second born in that position. "I shall see to that myself."
In the time it had taken to issue the order, two new voices were lent to the mix - that of Mihail of Thanasi and Imeeya of Drakos. With a stern look at the former to warn off any further speech of fraternisation with his daughter, Tython then turned to his niece. His voice was firm but held no real tone of reproach. Just a clear instruction.
"Lady Imeeya, perhaps you can continue this conversation in a place with fewer witnesses." Having heard his eldest son's instruction to Zanon about taking Asia and the more vulnerable members of the family back to the Kotas manor, Tython nudged his head in the direction of the second prince using a quick movement of his hands to turn Athanasia over to her brother's care. "Go with them." He instructed to the young, blonde girl. "I shall send your mother to collect you in due course..."
Leaving the group to organise themselves, for they were adults after all despite petty arguments, Tython turned to find the one woman he had not yet greeted but desperately needed to. He met his wife's eyes and heard her issue the commands of a Queen in a voice that was clear as a full-bodied bell. His lips curled in a smile of pride as he moved between the crowds all milling to hurry and obey Yanni's issued orders.
Stepping to the left and then the right, Tython was quick to reach her because she had started forward in order to meet him half way. And whilst a true reunion would be inappropriate in a public setting, Tython was unable to resist touching her.
Her hands found their way to his chest, his own to her upper arms. He wanted nothing more than to take hold of his wife and kiss her with all the heat and warmth that he possessed as a living, breathing man, but this was neither the time nor the place. For now, he was not content but resigned to simply placing his forehead against herself, closing his eyes and breathing in a scent and aura that he knew to his very soul.
For a short time, Thea felt as though her heart had attempted to still and flutter in rotation in her chest, standing by Evras side and still holding to her sister's forearms as if to use them as an anchor. Her father's words cut deep into her in several ways - of course, he was an old man, and at times he knew and complained about the same thing, yet now he denied it. To see her father in such a state, restrained by guards, injured in body, and ailing in mind, set the floor beneath her feeling unsteady, as if the flagstones had turned to sand.
Though years of routine and careful practice kept her face from crumbling, inside her chest, she felt like she was less than half her age. Despite the utter lack of affection that her family seemed to bear for one another, the thought of the lack of her father's presence unnerved her.
While her eyes flicked around the room, purposefully avoiding the eyes of her sister Nethis and her brother Dysius, she took it in. First, they fell upon the bleeding Taengean King and his wife, Olympia, with who she had visited the Temples with that morning. Then they fell upon King Typhon and Princess Athanasia, safe from the bloodied blade beneath her sister's foot that found its way into the hand of the Captain before them.
Prince Vangelis spoke, drawing her eyes immediately to him as her father's name crossed his lips.
The words had barely crossed his lips and paused when Thea felt as if everything drained out of her through the heels of her sandals and into the stones beneath her feet. The slightest wince of dread sent her eyes looking down to her father, dreading how he would fare in the fylaki - would they even attend to his shoulder before sending him there? Imagining him there among the other destitute criminals of Midas churned the bile in her stomach, and yet it made sense - he had attempted an egregious crime among many witnesses, mad or not.
As he continued, her eyes flashed up and met the Prince's as he issued the order. A moment passed, then Thea inhaled, filling her lungs with the air she did not realize she had been depriving. There was the slightest shift around her eyes and a single quiver of her lip as she gripped her sister's arm.
The further order that their father was not to be harmed sent her into a bow and a swiftly spoken, "We are gracious for your mercy, Your Highness..."
Humility would do wonders for the majority of the Thanasi in the room, given that their patriarch did just assault one royal while attempting to kill another for reasons unknown. Her own relief at the situation was cut short as her eyes widened slightly upon seeing Prince Zanon move forward towards her father, despite or perhaps in light of his brother's orders, and Thea took the slightest of steps forward before settling once again at her sister's side when Prince Vangelis stopped.
Decisions were made, the dinner was concluded, and Thea looked to Evras at her side, relinquishing her hold on her sister with a muted expression, one that expressed only the faintest hairlines of doubt to breath through the surface from the deep pool of it that existed in her core.
Thea stood there alone, watching as the Crown Prince's orders were followed and her father was taken away under orders. She glanced slightly over her shoulder toward Nethis and Dysius, taking in only the faintest image of them and feeling the burn of their gaze on her cheek so much she kept her shoulder still turned to them.
So much had happened, so many decisions and actions taken in quick succession that she felt drained of all thought and emotion, watching the backs of the various royals drift away to either antechamber or manor, and the remaining members of the nobility to remain for questioning before their dismissal.
There was no doubt that Nethis had already drafted some scheme for their family name to recover from this, which would last hours into the night and into the days to come. Thea wanted none of it, not in this moment.
Captured in her own insular processing, she stood without moving, watching the others walk away before once again looking down to her hands. Without her sister's hand in hers, she took a moment to examine them, notting the smears of burnt yellow of the mustard and streaks of shadowy black from the charcoal still marring them as well as her gown.
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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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For a short time, Thea felt as though her heart had attempted to still and flutter in rotation in her chest, standing by Evras side and still holding to her sister's forearms as if to use them as an anchor. Her father's words cut deep into her in several ways - of course, he was an old man, and at times he knew and complained about the same thing, yet now he denied it. To see her father in such a state, restrained by guards, injured in body, and ailing in mind, set the floor beneath her feeling unsteady, as if the flagstones had turned to sand.
Though years of routine and careful practice kept her face from crumbling, inside her chest, she felt like she was less than half her age. Despite the utter lack of affection that her family seemed to bear for one another, the thought of the lack of her father's presence unnerved her.
While her eyes flicked around the room, purposefully avoiding the eyes of her sister Nethis and her brother Dysius, she took it in. First, they fell upon the bleeding Taengean King and his wife, Olympia, with who she had visited the Temples with that morning. Then they fell upon King Typhon and Princess Athanasia, safe from the bloodied blade beneath her sister's foot that found its way into the hand of the Captain before them.
Prince Vangelis spoke, drawing her eyes immediately to him as her father's name crossed his lips.
The words had barely crossed his lips and paused when Thea felt as if everything drained out of her through the heels of her sandals and into the stones beneath her feet. The slightest wince of dread sent her eyes looking down to her father, dreading how he would fare in the fylaki - would they even attend to his shoulder before sending him there? Imagining him there among the other destitute criminals of Midas churned the bile in her stomach, and yet it made sense - he had attempted an egregious crime among many witnesses, mad or not.
As he continued, her eyes flashed up and met the Prince's as he issued the order. A moment passed, then Thea inhaled, filling her lungs with the air she did not realize she had been depriving. There was the slightest shift around her eyes and a single quiver of her lip as she gripped her sister's arm.
The further order that their father was not to be harmed sent her into a bow and a swiftly spoken, "We are gracious for your mercy, Your Highness..."
Humility would do wonders for the majority of the Thanasi in the room, given that their patriarch did just assault one royal while attempting to kill another for reasons unknown. Her own relief at the situation was cut short as her eyes widened slightly upon seeing Prince Zanon move forward towards her father, despite or perhaps in light of his brother's orders, and Thea took the slightest of steps forward before settling once again at her sister's side when Prince Vangelis stopped.
Decisions were made, the dinner was concluded, and Thea looked to Evras at her side, relinquishing her hold on her sister with a muted expression, one that expressed only the faintest hairlines of doubt to breath through the surface from the deep pool of it that existed in her core.
Thea stood there alone, watching as the Crown Prince's orders were followed and her father was taken away under orders. She glanced slightly over her shoulder toward Nethis and Dysius, taking in only the faintest image of them and feeling the burn of their gaze on her cheek so much she kept her shoulder still turned to them.
So much had happened, so many decisions and actions taken in quick succession that she felt drained of all thought and emotion, watching the backs of the various royals drift away to either antechamber or manor, and the remaining members of the nobility to remain for questioning before their dismissal.
There was no doubt that Nethis had already drafted some scheme for their family name to recover from this, which would last hours into the night and into the days to come. Thea wanted none of it, not in this moment.
Captured in her own insular processing, she stood without moving, watching the others walk away before once again looking down to her hands. Without her sister's hand in hers, she took a moment to examine them, notting the smears of burnt yellow of the mustard and streaks of shadowy black from the charcoal still marring them as well as her gown.
For a short time, Thea felt as though her heart had attempted to still and flutter in rotation in her chest, standing by Evras side and still holding to her sister's forearms as if to use them as an anchor. Her father's words cut deep into her in several ways - of course, he was an old man, and at times he knew and complained about the same thing, yet now he denied it. To see her father in such a state, restrained by guards, injured in body, and ailing in mind, set the floor beneath her feeling unsteady, as if the flagstones had turned to sand.
Though years of routine and careful practice kept her face from crumbling, inside her chest, she felt like she was less than half her age. Despite the utter lack of affection that her family seemed to bear for one another, the thought of the lack of her father's presence unnerved her.
While her eyes flicked around the room, purposefully avoiding the eyes of her sister Nethis and her brother Dysius, she took it in. First, they fell upon the bleeding Taengean King and his wife, Olympia, with who she had visited the Temples with that morning. Then they fell upon King Typhon and Princess Athanasia, safe from the bloodied blade beneath her sister's foot that found its way into the hand of the Captain before them.
Prince Vangelis spoke, drawing her eyes immediately to him as her father's name crossed his lips.
The words had barely crossed his lips and paused when Thea felt as if everything drained out of her through the heels of her sandals and into the stones beneath her feet. The slightest wince of dread sent her eyes looking down to her father, dreading how he would fare in the fylaki - would they even attend to his shoulder before sending him there? Imagining him there among the other destitute criminals of Midas churned the bile in her stomach, and yet it made sense - he had attempted an egregious crime among many witnesses, mad or not.
As he continued, her eyes flashed up and met the Prince's as he issued the order. A moment passed, then Thea inhaled, filling her lungs with the air she did not realize she had been depriving. There was the slightest shift around her eyes and a single quiver of her lip as she gripped her sister's arm.
The further order that their father was not to be harmed sent her into a bow and a swiftly spoken, "We are gracious for your mercy, Your Highness..."
Humility would do wonders for the majority of the Thanasi in the room, given that their patriarch did just assault one royal while attempting to kill another for reasons unknown. Her own relief at the situation was cut short as her eyes widened slightly upon seeing Prince Zanon move forward towards her father, despite or perhaps in light of his brother's orders, and Thea took the slightest of steps forward before settling once again at her sister's side when Prince Vangelis stopped.
Decisions were made, the dinner was concluded, and Thea looked to Evras at her side, relinquishing her hold on her sister with a muted expression, one that expressed only the faintest hairlines of doubt to breath through the surface from the deep pool of it that existed in her core.
Thea stood there alone, watching as the Crown Prince's orders were followed and her father was taken away under orders. She glanced slightly over her shoulder toward Nethis and Dysius, taking in only the faintest image of them and feeling the burn of their gaze on her cheek so much she kept her shoulder still turned to them.
So much had happened, so many decisions and actions taken in quick succession that she felt drained of all thought and emotion, watching the backs of the various royals drift away to either antechamber or manor, and the remaining members of the nobility to remain for questioning before their dismissal.
There was no doubt that Nethis had already drafted some scheme for their family name to recover from this, which would last hours into the night and into the days to come. Thea wanted none of it, not in this moment.
Captured in her own insular processing, she stood without moving, watching the others walk away before once again looking down to her hands. Without her sister's hand in hers, she took a moment to examine them, notting the smears of burnt yellow of the mustard and streaks of shadowy black from the charcoal still marring them as well as her gown.
As Nana took her seat at the far end of the table, opposite Timaeus, she couldn’t help the feeling of childlike giddiness that threatened to burst forth. As she fiddled with her skirts in her lap, entertaining the game they played in not-so furtive glances, the Leventi found herself lost in the blueness of his eyes: eyes so blue that she would not mind if she drowned in them. And that was just what she would hope to do. Though from the outside, the pair must have looked like two twitterpated idiots, Nana couldn’t help but feel that this was a moment she would remember for the rest of her life: that their wedding wouldn’t be far off, and neither would children. She had come to Colchis looking for the prince of her dreams, and somehow, he had fallen into her lap. Her eyes glittered as she gazed deeply into those beautiful eyes of blue that suited Timaeus so well: this would be her future.
Nana’s captivation with the subject of her attention was only interrupted by the newly-ascended King Vangelis’ standing up to speak. As a hush fell over the room, Nana looked up to the Kotas table, glancing back at Timaeus with a little grin on her face. He had left his seat at the King’s table, just to spend time with her. She would be a princess. As she turned her eyes back to Vangelis, the girl tuned out just about everything he had to say, thinking instead of how foolish she had been in wanting to marry him. Yes, to be a Queen would be a lovely prospect, but to be a princess...she wouldn’t have to do any of that work, yet she would still be loved throughout the land, and more importantly, be able to maintain her expensive habits. Perhaps this was how it was all meant to play out. Selene would have Vangelis, and she would take his younger, handsomer, emotionally available brother.
Yet, it seemed that this evening would not turn out just as perfectly as the blonde had thought, as there came an uproar from the head table, where Nana looked up to see the King, trying to stand up, trying to breathe. And then, he fell to the floor. Instantly, what seemed to Nana to be a million thoughts went rushing through her head: What was going on? Was he choking? Why was nobody doing anything? That last question was quickly scratched off as she what seemed to be a mob of people, including among them Selene, rushing to the head table to Vangelis’ aid. Nana glanced around the room to find only the same confusion and shock on the faces of everyone in her midst, wondering what was wrong, and what to do. And in that chaos, memories she’d tried so hard in the past few months to suppress came flooding back. Of King Zenon’s head on a pike. Of the chariots speeding around the track, of Pia and Stephanos directly in the line of fire. And then, the thought came to her: this was an assassination. Vangelis had been poisoned.
Nana’s hands started to shake as tears of fear welled up in her eyes, not able to tear them from the sight of the Kotas king, suffocating on the floor. Unable to look away, she was startled by Timaeus coming into her line of sight, blinking rapidly, a few tears quickly rolling down her cheeks as he took her attention. She could say nothing as the man turned her line of vision towards the door, but found comfort in his presence only for a brief moment, as she heard a loud boom come from the door near them, briefly confused, and then quickly concerned when she saw the look on Timaeus’ face. It quickly became apparent to her that she had reason to be worried as the prince grabbed her arm, holding it in a tight grip and trying to get her away from the doors. Nana instinctively stiffened at his touch, but grasping the reality of the situation, she did not pull away. Instead, she rose with him, looking behind to see that the vast majority of those in attendance were fleeing to the kitchens for refuge. As Timaeus started to move, so did she, her sandals slapping hard against the floor as she ran for safety. What she was not expecting was for him to stop in his tracks, and pull her behind a column.
After almost falling from the sheer force of being stopped and yanked back, the girl gathered her bearings in the shadows, before being captured by her prince’s gaze yet again. Trying to catch her breath, the girl’s eyebrows furrowed at Timaeus’ question, panting as she stared at him dumbfoundedly. She had no time to think about a response as he quickly vowed to protect her, and her breath started to come back to her. In this moment, there was no thinking, no reason. Only instinct. And with the look in his eyes, Nana knew that she was safe in his arms. Quickly reaching her hands out to grab a tight hold of his arms, she nodded. “I trust you. Just please, don’t let go. Please.”
And with that, she put her faith in him. As the doors splintered and broke open, she closed her eyes, hiding her face in Timaeus’ chest as she tried to keep quiet. And then...nothing. Nothing happened. Trying to look out from where they hid, Nana had no view of the intruders, or of King Vangelis. Her gaze shifted to focus on her prince, to his eyes. What was going on?
This was answered in part by an unfamiliar voice, speaking to what was quickly made clear to be Vangelis… The king which they had been mourning at this very feast was alive. And well, from the sound of it. At the sound of people stirring from their hiding places, Nana peeked her head out a bit to see what all was happening, squeezing Timaeus’ arms as she gently removed herself from his embrace to see what exactly had happened. Yet, it seemed that even the return of King Tython was not enough commotion for tonight, as an old man Nana remained unacquainted with approached the revived King, seemingly to greet him. Yet, as he neared, this was shown not to be the case, as the man unsheathed a dagger and quickly charged towards the King. Nana let out a gasp, instinctively taking a step back only to bump back into Timaeus, and quickly put space in between them. By the time her attention was back on the scene in front of her, the old man was on the ground, thrashing about, held down by Stephanos, Nana wincing when she saw the man’s dagger slash at his arm, and wrinkling her face in disgust and covering her eyes as soon as she realized what Stephanos was doing in return. Disgusting.
As the man was dragged away, Nana peeked through her eyes, letting her mask slip after she knew she would not be subject to any more drama. This was certainly more than enough for one night. Hopefully, the rest of her stay in Midas would not be as charged.
Stepping back out from the columns once again, Nana looked around the room for her mother, the dread of getting a definite talking-to quickly settling in and causing the young Leventi to let out a sigh. That was certainly the last thing she needed after this night. If it could wait until the morning, Nana would count it as a gift, but she was certain it wouldn’t. Though, she supposed, she could not fault her mother if her disappearance had caused a scare. At least Nana was justified in making herself known to Timaeus.
Only then did it occur to her that Timaeus was still right there with her, and she quickly turned to give him an awkward smile, thumbing the fabric of her skirt as she spoke. “...This has certainly been an...interesting night. I trust this isn’t the norm for the court of Midas?” Even now, a giggle arose from the Leventi in the presence of her new Colchian flame. The girl cleared her throat, “Timaeus, I… um…”
It was then that Queen Yanni’s voice rang out, announcing that the feast was over, and for everyone to return to their homes. Nana pulled her attention away from her new fling for a moment before turning back to him, smiling once more. “Thank you. For tonight. This was lovely...despite the scary bit, of course. I hate to say that my family is most certainly looking for me as we speak, though, so I should probably go find them before I worry them any more. But...I should like to see you again. I would hope to hear from you at Kalospiti Leventi, if you should like to see me again. I really must be going now. Goodnight!”
And with that, Nana reluctantly left the company of Prince Timaeus, to find her mother and return to their residence, and perhaps even to see Pia… Or maybe not. Tonight’s events were quite enough for Nana to want nothing more than to go to bed.
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As Nana took her seat at the far end of the table, opposite Timaeus, she couldn’t help the feeling of childlike giddiness that threatened to burst forth. As she fiddled with her skirts in her lap, entertaining the game they played in not-so furtive glances, the Leventi found herself lost in the blueness of his eyes: eyes so blue that she would not mind if she drowned in them. And that was just what she would hope to do. Though from the outside, the pair must have looked like two twitterpated idiots, Nana couldn’t help but feel that this was a moment she would remember for the rest of her life: that their wedding wouldn’t be far off, and neither would children. She had come to Colchis looking for the prince of her dreams, and somehow, he had fallen into her lap. Her eyes glittered as she gazed deeply into those beautiful eyes of blue that suited Timaeus so well: this would be her future.
Nana’s captivation with the subject of her attention was only interrupted by the newly-ascended King Vangelis’ standing up to speak. As a hush fell over the room, Nana looked up to the Kotas table, glancing back at Timaeus with a little grin on her face. He had left his seat at the King’s table, just to spend time with her. She would be a princess. As she turned her eyes back to Vangelis, the girl tuned out just about everything he had to say, thinking instead of how foolish she had been in wanting to marry him. Yes, to be a Queen would be a lovely prospect, but to be a princess...she wouldn’t have to do any of that work, yet she would still be loved throughout the land, and more importantly, be able to maintain her expensive habits. Perhaps this was how it was all meant to play out. Selene would have Vangelis, and she would take his younger, handsomer, emotionally available brother.
Yet, it seemed that this evening would not turn out just as perfectly as the blonde had thought, as there came an uproar from the head table, where Nana looked up to see the King, trying to stand up, trying to breathe. And then, he fell to the floor. Instantly, what seemed to Nana to be a million thoughts went rushing through her head: What was going on? Was he choking? Why was nobody doing anything? That last question was quickly scratched off as she what seemed to be a mob of people, including among them Selene, rushing to the head table to Vangelis’ aid. Nana glanced around the room to find only the same confusion and shock on the faces of everyone in her midst, wondering what was wrong, and what to do. And in that chaos, memories she’d tried so hard in the past few months to suppress came flooding back. Of King Zenon’s head on a pike. Of the chariots speeding around the track, of Pia and Stephanos directly in the line of fire. And then, the thought came to her: this was an assassination. Vangelis had been poisoned.
Nana’s hands started to shake as tears of fear welled up in her eyes, not able to tear them from the sight of the Kotas king, suffocating on the floor. Unable to look away, she was startled by Timaeus coming into her line of sight, blinking rapidly, a few tears quickly rolling down her cheeks as he took her attention. She could say nothing as the man turned her line of vision towards the door, but found comfort in his presence only for a brief moment, as she heard a loud boom come from the door near them, briefly confused, and then quickly concerned when she saw the look on Timaeus’ face. It quickly became apparent to her that she had reason to be worried as the prince grabbed her arm, holding it in a tight grip and trying to get her away from the doors. Nana instinctively stiffened at his touch, but grasping the reality of the situation, she did not pull away. Instead, she rose with him, looking behind to see that the vast majority of those in attendance were fleeing to the kitchens for refuge. As Timaeus started to move, so did she, her sandals slapping hard against the floor as she ran for safety. What she was not expecting was for him to stop in his tracks, and pull her behind a column.
After almost falling from the sheer force of being stopped and yanked back, the girl gathered her bearings in the shadows, before being captured by her prince’s gaze yet again. Trying to catch her breath, the girl’s eyebrows furrowed at Timaeus’ question, panting as she stared at him dumbfoundedly. She had no time to think about a response as he quickly vowed to protect her, and her breath started to come back to her. In this moment, there was no thinking, no reason. Only instinct. And with the look in his eyes, Nana knew that she was safe in his arms. Quickly reaching her hands out to grab a tight hold of his arms, she nodded. “I trust you. Just please, don’t let go. Please.”
And with that, she put her faith in him. As the doors splintered and broke open, she closed her eyes, hiding her face in Timaeus’ chest as she tried to keep quiet. And then...nothing. Nothing happened. Trying to look out from where they hid, Nana had no view of the intruders, or of King Vangelis. Her gaze shifted to focus on her prince, to his eyes. What was going on?
This was answered in part by an unfamiliar voice, speaking to what was quickly made clear to be Vangelis… The king which they had been mourning at this very feast was alive. And well, from the sound of it. At the sound of people stirring from their hiding places, Nana peeked her head out a bit to see what all was happening, squeezing Timaeus’ arms as she gently removed herself from his embrace to see what exactly had happened. Yet, it seemed that even the return of King Tython was not enough commotion for tonight, as an old man Nana remained unacquainted with approached the revived King, seemingly to greet him. Yet, as he neared, this was shown not to be the case, as the man unsheathed a dagger and quickly charged towards the King. Nana let out a gasp, instinctively taking a step back only to bump back into Timaeus, and quickly put space in between them. By the time her attention was back on the scene in front of her, the old man was on the ground, thrashing about, held down by Stephanos, Nana wincing when she saw the man’s dagger slash at his arm, and wrinkling her face in disgust and covering her eyes as soon as she realized what Stephanos was doing in return. Disgusting.
As the man was dragged away, Nana peeked through her eyes, letting her mask slip after she knew she would not be subject to any more drama. This was certainly more than enough for one night. Hopefully, the rest of her stay in Midas would not be as charged.
Stepping back out from the columns once again, Nana looked around the room for her mother, the dread of getting a definite talking-to quickly settling in and causing the young Leventi to let out a sigh. That was certainly the last thing she needed after this night. If it could wait until the morning, Nana would count it as a gift, but she was certain it wouldn’t. Though, she supposed, she could not fault her mother if her disappearance had caused a scare. At least Nana was justified in making herself known to Timaeus.
Only then did it occur to her that Timaeus was still right there with her, and she quickly turned to give him an awkward smile, thumbing the fabric of her skirt as she spoke. “...This has certainly been an...interesting night. I trust this isn’t the norm for the court of Midas?” Even now, a giggle arose from the Leventi in the presence of her new Colchian flame. The girl cleared her throat, “Timaeus, I… um…”
It was then that Queen Yanni’s voice rang out, announcing that the feast was over, and for everyone to return to their homes. Nana pulled her attention away from her new fling for a moment before turning back to him, smiling once more. “Thank you. For tonight. This was lovely...despite the scary bit, of course. I hate to say that my family is most certainly looking for me as we speak, though, so I should probably go find them before I worry them any more. But...I should like to see you again. I would hope to hear from you at Kalospiti Leventi, if you should like to see me again. I really must be going now. Goodnight!”
And with that, Nana reluctantly left the company of Prince Timaeus, to find her mother and return to their residence, and perhaps even to see Pia… Or maybe not. Tonight’s events were quite enough for Nana to want nothing more than to go to bed.
As Nana took her seat at the far end of the table, opposite Timaeus, she couldn’t help the feeling of childlike giddiness that threatened to burst forth. As she fiddled with her skirts in her lap, entertaining the game they played in not-so furtive glances, the Leventi found herself lost in the blueness of his eyes: eyes so blue that she would not mind if she drowned in them. And that was just what she would hope to do. Though from the outside, the pair must have looked like two twitterpated idiots, Nana couldn’t help but feel that this was a moment she would remember for the rest of her life: that their wedding wouldn’t be far off, and neither would children. She had come to Colchis looking for the prince of her dreams, and somehow, he had fallen into her lap. Her eyes glittered as she gazed deeply into those beautiful eyes of blue that suited Timaeus so well: this would be her future.
Nana’s captivation with the subject of her attention was only interrupted by the newly-ascended King Vangelis’ standing up to speak. As a hush fell over the room, Nana looked up to the Kotas table, glancing back at Timaeus with a little grin on her face. He had left his seat at the King’s table, just to spend time with her. She would be a princess. As she turned her eyes back to Vangelis, the girl tuned out just about everything he had to say, thinking instead of how foolish she had been in wanting to marry him. Yes, to be a Queen would be a lovely prospect, but to be a princess...she wouldn’t have to do any of that work, yet she would still be loved throughout the land, and more importantly, be able to maintain her expensive habits. Perhaps this was how it was all meant to play out. Selene would have Vangelis, and she would take his younger, handsomer, emotionally available brother.
Yet, it seemed that this evening would not turn out just as perfectly as the blonde had thought, as there came an uproar from the head table, where Nana looked up to see the King, trying to stand up, trying to breathe. And then, he fell to the floor. Instantly, what seemed to Nana to be a million thoughts went rushing through her head: What was going on? Was he choking? Why was nobody doing anything? That last question was quickly scratched off as she what seemed to be a mob of people, including among them Selene, rushing to the head table to Vangelis’ aid. Nana glanced around the room to find only the same confusion and shock on the faces of everyone in her midst, wondering what was wrong, and what to do. And in that chaos, memories she’d tried so hard in the past few months to suppress came flooding back. Of King Zenon’s head on a pike. Of the chariots speeding around the track, of Pia and Stephanos directly in the line of fire. And then, the thought came to her: this was an assassination. Vangelis had been poisoned.
Nana’s hands started to shake as tears of fear welled up in her eyes, not able to tear them from the sight of the Kotas king, suffocating on the floor. Unable to look away, she was startled by Timaeus coming into her line of sight, blinking rapidly, a few tears quickly rolling down her cheeks as he took her attention. She could say nothing as the man turned her line of vision towards the door, but found comfort in his presence only for a brief moment, as she heard a loud boom come from the door near them, briefly confused, and then quickly concerned when she saw the look on Timaeus’ face. It quickly became apparent to her that she had reason to be worried as the prince grabbed her arm, holding it in a tight grip and trying to get her away from the doors. Nana instinctively stiffened at his touch, but grasping the reality of the situation, she did not pull away. Instead, she rose with him, looking behind to see that the vast majority of those in attendance were fleeing to the kitchens for refuge. As Timaeus started to move, so did she, her sandals slapping hard against the floor as she ran for safety. What she was not expecting was for him to stop in his tracks, and pull her behind a column.
After almost falling from the sheer force of being stopped and yanked back, the girl gathered her bearings in the shadows, before being captured by her prince’s gaze yet again. Trying to catch her breath, the girl’s eyebrows furrowed at Timaeus’ question, panting as she stared at him dumbfoundedly. She had no time to think about a response as he quickly vowed to protect her, and her breath started to come back to her. In this moment, there was no thinking, no reason. Only instinct. And with the look in his eyes, Nana knew that she was safe in his arms. Quickly reaching her hands out to grab a tight hold of his arms, she nodded. “I trust you. Just please, don’t let go. Please.”
And with that, she put her faith in him. As the doors splintered and broke open, she closed her eyes, hiding her face in Timaeus’ chest as she tried to keep quiet. And then...nothing. Nothing happened. Trying to look out from where they hid, Nana had no view of the intruders, or of King Vangelis. Her gaze shifted to focus on her prince, to his eyes. What was going on?
This was answered in part by an unfamiliar voice, speaking to what was quickly made clear to be Vangelis… The king which they had been mourning at this very feast was alive. And well, from the sound of it. At the sound of people stirring from their hiding places, Nana peeked her head out a bit to see what all was happening, squeezing Timaeus’ arms as she gently removed herself from his embrace to see what exactly had happened. Yet, it seemed that even the return of King Tython was not enough commotion for tonight, as an old man Nana remained unacquainted with approached the revived King, seemingly to greet him. Yet, as he neared, this was shown not to be the case, as the man unsheathed a dagger and quickly charged towards the King. Nana let out a gasp, instinctively taking a step back only to bump back into Timaeus, and quickly put space in between them. By the time her attention was back on the scene in front of her, the old man was on the ground, thrashing about, held down by Stephanos, Nana wincing when she saw the man’s dagger slash at his arm, and wrinkling her face in disgust and covering her eyes as soon as she realized what Stephanos was doing in return. Disgusting.
As the man was dragged away, Nana peeked through her eyes, letting her mask slip after she knew she would not be subject to any more drama. This was certainly more than enough for one night. Hopefully, the rest of her stay in Midas would not be as charged.
Stepping back out from the columns once again, Nana looked around the room for her mother, the dread of getting a definite talking-to quickly settling in and causing the young Leventi to let out a sigh. That was certainly the last thing she needed after this night. If it could wait until the morning, Nana would count it as a gift, but she was certain it wouldn’t. Though, she supposed, she could not fault her mother if her disappearance had caused a scare. At least Nana was justified in making herself known to Timaeus.
Only then did it occur to her that Timaeus was still right there with her, and she quickly turned to give him an awkward smile, thumbing the fabric of her skirt as she spoke. “...This has certainly been an...interesting night. I trust this isn’t the norm for the court of Midas?” Even now, a giggle arose from the Leventi in the presence of her new Colchian flame. The girl cleared her throat, “Timaeus, I… um…”
It was then that Queen Yanni’s voice rang out, announcing that the feast was over, and for everyone to return to their homes. Nana pulled her attention away from her new fling for a moment before turning back to him, smiling once more. “Thank you. For tonight. This was lovely...despite the scary bit, of course. I hate to say that my family is most certainly looking for me as we speak, though, so I should probably go find them before I worry them any more. But...I should like to see you again. I would hope to hear from you at Kalospiti Leventi, if you should like to see me again. I really must be going now. Goodnight!”
And with that, Nana reluctantly left the company of Prince Timaeus, to find her mother and return to their residence, and perhaps even to see Pia… Or maybe not. Tonight’s events were quite enough for Nana to want nothing more than to go to bed.
She didn’t miss the slight affection that was in his gaze as he pushed away the offered cloth to take his sword back. Her cheeks were flushed, but she couldn’t place a finger on the cause. It looked like slowly, surely, he was regaining his sense of self enough to be productive and active. There was a relieved sigh from her lips, glad to see that there didn’t appear to be any ill effects.
Her own head was spinning, the combination of the poison and the action of the evening giving her a dull pain in her temples. It was then that she could take in the commotion around them, her focus first on her family. She quickly found Pia at the side of her husband, tending to his wounds. Her mother and sister were a bit harder to spot, but it seemed as if they were alright as well. She could relax a little without worrying about them.
She listened to Vangelis make his orders, her eyes falling to the Thanasi family as he instructed the man to be taken away. While she didn’t know the rest of the family, her focus turned to Thea, who seemed to be stuck in place in a state of shock. The blond couldn’t imagine what the woman was going through, but Selene wasn’t sure as it what her plan would be. She didn’t look like she wished to go home, nor did she look like she knew what she wanted. She had to feel numb, and Selene knew the feeling.
The words of Vangelis, spoke beside her again, refocused her attention on her own plans. Initially, she had thought to go back to the Leventi estate with her mother. Before he’d been poisoned, she wanted to be close to family. Now, she wanted to stay closer to the Kotas family. And it seemed that Vangelis felt the same, ordering her to go back with his brother and his family to the manor she’d been staying in for the past week. Nodding, she gave him a small nod of her head before moving.
Her eyes stopped on the King and Queen, heart warming at the sight of the two royals reunited. While she was sure there was more to be said, more to do, the openly affection in their stare, coupled with the sweet way he rested his forehead on hers, made Selene long for that kind of love. Her eyes drifted back to Vangelis, but he had already moved on to another man. Whatever he was speaking with them about seemed serious.
Passing Thea, the blonde stopped. ”Lady Thea?” She said quietly, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. Her voice was concerned, wondering just how she was coping with this. ”I do not think either of us wish to be alone tonight. Why not come back with your sister and I? My own sister will be focused on her husband, and I do not think the Kotas family will think twice about having you under their roof. Not after what you did tonight.” Selene took her hand, slipping it on top of her own forearm. ”We will enjoy some wine. And we can keep each other company.” She didn’t wait for an answer, instead pulling Thea along with her towards the exit. If anything was certain for the pair, no one was going to question the two women who had stepped in and saved the King’s life.
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She didn’t miss the slight affection that was in his gaze as he pushed away the offered cloth to take his sword back. Her cheeks were flushed, but she couldn’t place a finger on the cause. It looked like slowly, surely, he was regaining his sense of self enough to be productive and active. There was a relieved sigh from her lips, glad to see that there didn’t appear to be any ill effects.
Her own head was spinning, the combination of the poison and the action of the evening giving her a dull pain in her temples. It was then that she could take in the commotion around them, her focus first on her family. She quickly found Pia at the side of her husband, tending to his wounds. Her mother and sister were a bit harder to spot, but it seemed as if they were alright as well. She could relax a little without worrying about them.
She listened to Vangelis make his orders, her eyes falling to the Thanasi family as he instructed the man to be taken away. While she didn’t know the rest of the family, her focus turned to Thea, who seemed to be stuck in place in a state of shock. The blond couldn’t imagine what the woman was going through, but Selene wasn’t sure as it what her plan would be. She didn’t look like she wished to go home, nor did she look like she knew what she wanted. She had to feel numb, and Selene knew the feeling.
The words of Vangelis, spoke beside her again, refocused her attention on her own plans. Initially, she had thought to go back to the Leventi estate with her mother. Before he’d been poisoned, she wanted to be close to family. Now, she wanted to stay closer to the Kotas family. And it seemed that Vangelis felt the same, ordering her to go back with his brother and his family to the manor she’d been staying in for the past week. Nodding, she gave him a small nod of her head before moving.
Her eyes stopped on the King and Queen, heart warming at the sight of the two royals reunited. While she was sure there was more to be said, more to do, the openly affection in their stare, coupled with the sweet way he rested his forehead on hers, made Selene long for that kind of love. Her eyes drifted back to Vangelis, but he had already moved on to another man. Whatever he was speaking with them about seemed serious.
Passing Thea, the blonde stopped. ”Lady Thea?” She said quietly, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. Her voice was concerned, wondering just how she was coping with this. ”I do not think either of us wish to be alone tonight. Why not come back with your sister and I? My own sister will be focused on her husband, and I do not think the Kotas family will think twice about having you under their roof. Not after what you did tonight.” Selene took her hand, slipping it on top of her own forearm. ”We will enjoy some wine. And we can keep each other company.” She didn’t wait for an answer, instead pulling Thea along with her towards the exit. If anything was certain for the pair, no one was going to question the two women who had stepped in and saved the King’s life.
She didn’t miss the slight affection that was in his gaze as he pushed away the offered cloth to take his sword back. Her cheeks were flushed, but she couldn’t place a finger on the cause. It looked like slowly, surely, he was regaining his sense of self enough to be productive and active. There was a relieved sigh from her lips, glad to see that there didn’t appear to be any ill effects.
Her own head was spinning, the combination of the poison and the action of the evening giving her a dull pain in her temples. It was then that she could take in the commotion around them, her focus first on her family. She quickly found Pia at the side of her husband, tending to his wounds. Her mother and sister were a bit harder to spot, but it seemed as if they were alright as well. She could relax a little without worrying about them.
She listened to Vangelis make his orders, her eyes falling to the Thanasi family as he instructed the man to be taken away. While she didn’t know the rest of the family, her focus turned to Thea, who seemed to be stuck in place in a state of shock. The blond couldn’t imagine what the woman was going through, but Selene wasn’t sure as it what her plan would be. She didn’t look like she wished to go home, nor did she look like she knew what she wanted. She had to feel numb, and Selene knew the feeling.
The words of Vangelis, spoke beside her again, refocused her attention on her own plans. Initially, she had thought to go back to the Leventi estate with her mother. Before he’d been poisoned, she wanted to be close to family. Now, she wanted to stay closer to the Kotas family. And it seemed that Vangelis felt the same, ordering her to go back with his brother and his family to the manor she’d been staying in for the past week. Nodding, she gave him a small nod of her head before moving.
Her eyes stopped on the King and Queen, heart warming at the sight of the two royals reunited. While she was sure there was more to be said, more to do, the openly affection in their stare, coupled with the sweet way he rested his forehead on hers, made Selene long for that kind of love. Her eyes drifted back to Vangelis, but he had already moved on to another man. Whatever he was speaking with them about seemed serious.
Passing Thea, the blonde stopped. ”Lady Thea?” She said quietly, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. Her voice was concerned, wondering just how she was coping with this. ”I do not think either of us wish to be alone tonight. Why not come back with your sister and I? My own sister will be focused on her husband, and I do not think the Kotas family will think twice about having you under their roof. Not after what you did tonight.” Selene took her hand, slipping it on top of her own forearm. ”We will enjoy some wine. And we can keep each other company.” She didn’t wait for an answer, instead pulling Thea along with her towards the exit. If anything was certain for the pair, no one was going to question the two women who had stepped in and saved the King’s life.
Used as he was to the lack of reaction from the family he served as they were. He had greeted the Crown Prince as Vangelis joined him where he stood with the King, but the words did not stop as he reported upon all he had done within the last few weeks he had been in Taengea. It was information that the royal family of Colchis needed to know with immediacy, for it brought with them the need for preparation, and Magnus wasted no time.
Waiting as the royals gave their command, the Master Informer merely nodded, and waded his way through the crowds to seek for Stephanos and Olympia, to do as his crown prince instructed. He recognized the supposed King and Queen of Taengea, even if their position in the current political turmoil of their home kingdom was questionable now, but that was how Magnus recognized them.
But despite him knowing exactly where he needed to head, his eyes couldn't resist wandering to seek out the location of first his sister, and then the lover who he had a suspicion would have some choice words for him when they met. As it was, he had already left her for far too long, and while he was grateful to her for bringing Leto to the court session, there was much he had to catch up with for Magnus had not even enclosed his location to allow missives to be sent to him, which meant a long conversation was due.
First though, he had work to do.
Trying to catch Leto's eye, he frowned once he did, and made a motion with his head for her to leave, as he did to Iolanthe (along with an apology in his eye he hoped she caught), before turning to finally face the Taengean royalty with a smile and a flourishing bow, as if the man was not dripping in blood and the Queen half to tears. "Your Majesties, rest assured I will have physicians summoned immediately to see to your injury." the man murmured in a tone dulcet like honey, gesturing for them to follow him. "But for now, my Prince wishes to speak to you, if you would just follow me. I have... news from Taengea, that I think would interest you greatly."
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Used as he was to the lack of reaction from the family he served as they were. He had greeted the Crown Prince as Vangelis joined him where he stood with the King, but the words did not stop as he reported upon all he had done within the last few weeks he had been in Taengea. It was information that the royal family of Colchis needed to know with immediacy, for it brought with them the need for preparation, and Magnus wasted no time.
Waiting as the royals gave their command, the Master Informer merely nodded, and waded his way through the crowds to seek for Stephanos and Olympia, to do as his crown prince instructed. He recognized the supposed King and Queen of Taengea, even if their position in the current political turmoil of their home kingdom was questionable now, but that was how Magnus recognized them.
But despite him knowing exactly where he needed to head, his eyes couldn't resist wandering to seek out the location of first his sister, and then the lover who he had a suspicion would have some choice words for him when they met. As it was, he had already left her for far too long, and while he was grateful to her for bringing Leto to the court session, there was much he had to catch up with for Magnus had not even enclosed his location to allow missives to be sent to him, which meant a long conversation was due.
First though, he had work to do.
Trying to catch Leto's eye, he frowned once he did, and made a motion with his head for her to leave, as he did to Iolanthe (along with an apology in his eye he hoped she caught), before turning to finally face the Taengean royalty with a smile and a flourishing bow, as if the man was not dripping in blood and the Queen half to tears. "Your Majesties, rest assured I will have physicians summoned immediately to see to your injury." the man murmured in a tone dulcet like honey, gesturing for them to follow him. "But for now, my Prince wishes to speak to you, if you would just follow me. I have... news from Taengea, that I think would interest you greatly."
Used as he was to the lack of reaction from the family he served as they were. He had greeted the Crown Prince as Vangelis joined him where he stood with the King, but the words did not stop as he reported upon all he had done within the last few weeks he had been in Taengea. It was information that the royal family of Colchis needed to know with immediacy, for it brought with them the need for preparation, and Magnus wasted no time.
Waiting as the royals gave their command, the Master Informer merely nodded, and waded his way through the crowds to seek for Stephanos and Olympia, to do as his crown prince instructed. He recognized the supposed King and Queen of Taengea, even if their position in the current political turmoil of their home kingdom was questionable now, but that was how Magnus recognized them.
But despite him knowing exactly where he needed to head, his eyes couldn't resist wandering to seek out the location of first his sister, and then the lover who he had a suspicion would have some choice words for him when they met. As it was, he had already left her for far too long, and while he was grateful to her for bringing Leto to the court session, there was much he had to catch up with for Magnus had not even enclosed his location to allow missives to be sent to him, which meant a long conversation was due.
First though, he had work to do.
Trying to catch Leto's eye, he frowned once he did, and made a motion with his head for her to leave, as he did to Iolanthe (along with an apology in his eye he hoped she caught), before turning to finally face the Taengean royalty with a smile and a flourishing bow, as if the man was not dripping in blood and the Queen half to tears. "Your Majesties, rest assured I will have physicians summoned immediately to see to your injury." the man murmured in a tone dulcet like honey, gesturing for them to follow him. "But for now, my Prince wishes to speak to you, if you would just follow me. I have... news from Taengea, that I think would interest you greatly."
The chaos that ensued made Evelli wonder momentarily, if it was the correct idea at all that she made to bring Nana to Colchis. Half of why she had came was to avoid the political mess that was now happening at home. With Theodora married, she had the protection of her husband, and Georgios and herself each took one of their youngests under their wing, and divided to conquer their daughter's safety. That had been the plan, but what if she had brought Nana, along with Selene and Olympia, into another mess entirely?
Evelli had let out a breath she was not aware she was holding when the figure of King Tython appeared as the doors opened. Having expected the worst, everything from common philanderer's to the Creed themselves had flashed in Evelli's mind, but she recognized the visage of Tython from sketches and art that she read from Colchis. Having never been to Colchis herself however, this was the first time she saw the King in the flesh, yet in a moment Evelli's brow furrowed as she remembered the story Selene had told them just the evening they had arrived. Was Vangelis not the King, and Tython assumed to be dead? What was going on here?
Clearly confused and showing on her face, her eyes flickered over to where Selene was still with Vangelis, and then to where Olympia was with Stephanos - and then it was as if everything happened in slow motion, or too fast for her to catch. If one were to ask her to recount the story, all she would've been able to say was she saw someone diving for Tython, and the next thing she knew Olympia had shrieked and Stephanos now stood bleeding with a large gash, as soldiers rounded up people according to the instructions of the Colchian royals and military commanders, all whilst Evelli stood wringing her hands, trying and failing to keep her eyes on all three daughters at once.
Where was Nana?
As if suddenly realizing she had let her eyes leave her younger offspring for far too long, the brunette's gaze combed the area whilst a conversation went on between the Kotas family, until she finally saw the blonde head of her wildchild, and the tightness in her chest let up when she failed tofind any injury on herself, if looking a little worst for wear.
The voice of Yanni declaring the feast to be over was muted in her ears as she made her way over to meet Nana as she walked, and without a word swept the younger girl in her arms. "I know you usually can handle yourself in court, but perhaps stay close by while we're in Colchis, can you Nana?" The words were gruff, but with a tender end to it for it was obvious Evelli had been scared briefly when she lost her bearings for Nana, the hold tight before the mother finally let go and flashed the blonde an abashed smile.
Using fingers to smoothen out a few tendrils of golden hair out of place, she quickly double checked that all was well before motioning at where Olympia was being spoken to by the Master Informer of Colchis. "Let's go take a look if Olympia is alright, shall we?" she offered, quickly making their way just in time to hear Magnus asking Olympia and Stephanos to follow. While Evelli would've dearly loved to know what was going on, she also knew they had more duties then she had the right to stand in the way, so instead Evelli merely hung back with a whisper at Olympia to speak to her once she got back, before taking Nana and heading out the exit where she saw Selene going with another dark haired lady
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The chaos that ensued made Evelli wonder momentarily, if it was the correct idea at all that she made to bring Nana to Colchis. Half of why she had came was to avoid the political mess that was now happening at home. With Theodora married, she had the protection of her husband, and Georgios and herself each took one of their youngests under their wing, and divided to conquer their daughter's safety. That had been the plan, but what if she had brought Nana, along with Selene and Olympia, into another mess entirely?
Evelli had let out a breath she was not aware she was holding when the figure of King Tython appeared as the doors opened. Having expected the worst, everything from common philanderer's to the Creed themselves had flashed in Evelli's mind, but she recognized the visage of Tython from sketches and art that she read from Colchis. Having never been to Colchis herself however, this was the first time she saw the King in the flesh, yet in a moment Evelli's brow furrowed as she remembered the story Selene had told them just the evening they had arrived. Was Vangelis not the King, and Tython assumed to be dead? What was going on here?
Clearly confused and showing on her face, her eyes flickered over to where Selene was still with Vangelis, and then to where Olympia was with Stephanos - and then it was as if everything happened in slow motion, or too fast for her to catch. If one were to ask her to recount the story, all she would've been able to say was she saw someone diving for Tython, and the next thing she knew Olympia had shrieked and Stephanos now stood bleeding with a large gash, as soldiers rounded up people according to the instructions of the Colchian royals and military commanders, all whilst Evelli stood wringing her hands, trying and failing to keep her eyes on all three daughters at once.
Where was Nana?
As if suddenly realizing she had let her eyes leave her younger offspring for far too long, the brunette's gaze combed the area whilst a conversation went on between the Kotas family, until she finally saw the blonde head of her wildchild, and the tightness in her chest let up when she failed tofind any injury on herself, if looking a little worst for wear.
The voice of Yanni declaring the feast to be over was muted in her ears as she made her way over to meet Nana as she walked, and without a word swept the younger girl in her arms. "I know you usually can handle yourself in court, but perhaps stay close by while we're in Colchis, can you Nana?" The words were gruff, but with a tender end to it for it was obvious Evelli had been scared briefly when she lost her bearings for Nana, the hold tight before the mother finally let go and flashed the blonde an abashed smile.
Using fingers to smoothen out a few tendrils of golden hair out of place, she quickly double checked that all was well before motioning at where Olympia was being spoken to by the Master Informer of Colchis. "Let's go take a look if Olympia is alright, shall we?" she offered, quickly making their way just in time to hear Magnus asking Olympia and Stephanos to follow. While Evelli would've dearly loved to know what was going on, she also knew they had more duties then she had the right to stand in the way, so instead Evelli merely hung back with a whisper at Olympia to speak to her once she got back, before taking Nana and heading out the exit where she saw Selene going with another dark haired lady
The chaos that ensued made Evelli wonder momentarily, if it was the correct idea at all that she made to bring Nana to Colchis. Half of why she had came was to avoid the political mess that was now happening at home. With Theodora married, she had the protection of her husband, and Georgios and herself each took one of their youngests under their wing, and divided to conquer their daughter's safety. That had been the plan, but what if she had brought Nana, along with Selene and Olympia, into another mess entirely?
Evelli had let out a breath she was not aware she was holding when the figure of King Tython appeared as the doors opened. Having expected the worst, everything from common philanderer's to the Creed themselves had flashed in Evelli's mind, but she recognized the visage of Tython from sketches and art that she read from Colchis. Having never been to Colchis herself however, this was the first time she saw the King in the flesh, yet in a moment Evelli's brow furrowed as she remembered the story Selene had told them just the evening they had arrived. Was Vangelis not the King, and Tython assumed to be dead? What was going on here?
Clearly confused and showing on her face, her eyes flickered over to where Selene was still with Vangelis, and then to where Olympia was with Stephanos - and then it was as if everything happened in slow motion, or too fast for her to catch. If one were to ask her to recount the story, all she would've been able to say was she saw someone diving for Tython, and the next thing she knew Olympia had shrieked and Stephanos now stood bleeding with a large gash, as soldiers rounded up people according to the instructions of the Colchian royals and military commanders, all whilst Evelli stood wringing her hands, trying and failing to keep her eyes on all three daughters at once.
Where was Nana?
As if suddenly realizing she had let her eyes leave her younger offspring for far too long, the brunette's gaze combed the area whilst a conversation went on between the Kotas family, until she finally saw the blonde head of her wildchild, and the tightness in her chest let up when she failed tofind any injury on herself, if looking a little worst for wear.
The voice of Yanni declaring the feast to be over was muted in her ears as she made her way over to meet Nana as she walked, and without a word swept the younger girl in her arms. "I know you usually can handle yourself in court, but perhaps stay close by while we're in Colchis, can you Nana?" The words were gruff, but with a tender end to it for it was obvious Evelli had been scared briefly when she lost her bearings for Nana, the hold tight before the mother finally let go and flashed the blonde an abashed smile.
Using fingers to smoothen out a few tendrils of golden hair out of place, she quickly double checked that all was well before motioning at where Olympia was being spoken to by the Master Informer of Colchis. "Let's go take a look if Olympia is alright, shall we?" she offered, quickly making their way just in time to hear Magnus asking Olympia and Stephanos to follow. While Evelli would've dearly loved to know what was going on, she also knew they had more duties then she had the right to stand in the way, so instead Evelli merely hung back with a whisper at Olympia to speak to her once she got back, before taking Nana and heading out the exit where she saw Selene going with another dark haired lady
Having Thea come to her side was decidedly more comforting, although by a measure that really did not help much when it was obvious neither of them were going to be placed in great light at the moment. Sure, Dionysios had just attempted murder on a monarch, but could she genuinely just watch her father die in front of her eyes? It was human nature to balk against something of that occurence, and Evras merely acted on instinct when she had darted to stand between her father and the soldiers when they had moved, not even thinking of the consequences.
Evras's hand instinctively sought out Thea's, terror making her seek a comforting figure, and Thea was as comforting as they came, the presence of her sister her only anchor in a time when it felt as if the ground was being pulled out from under her.
Gulping when Thea addressed Stephanos instead, Evras's eyes flashed momentarily to her husband, but as if she was fearful to see how he looked at this moment, she instead chose to follow her sister's tact and looked to Stepanos as well, nodding to affirm Thea's words. "We have physicians, the necessary dressing and salves for your injury, Your Highness, if you would-" but before Evras got a chance to finish her sentence, it was obvious Vangelis had other plans, for he started speaking instead, instructions that the newly resurrected King merely nodded to agree with.
So shadowed by doubt, she stepped back once again, even as she knew she had to follow as Vangelis instructed. She knew her brother in law was only asking her husband to keep them save when he tasked Zanon to bring herself, Athanasia and her son to return to the Kotas manor, yet the one man who was supposed to keep her safe was now once again a man she dared not meet his eyes, for fear of what she would find there this time. Instead, her eyes roamed to find her brother's, catching Dysius and Mihail's eyes, Evras mouthed a sharp 'Go home.' for them, before focusing as Thea spoke.
Following Thea, she too murmured her own thanks at sparing her father for now, and watched helplessly as Thea was taken away by Lady Selene. Oh how she wanted to follow, but what choice did she have?
Biting her bottom lip, Evras crouched when Dion came running for her, catching her son when he wrapped his arms around her neck, thankful that he was around to prevent a dam of tears, and the bile that now rose at the back of he throat, threatening to make its presence known by throwing up. Using the excuse of hugging Dion to remain crouched for a moment longer to ensure tears would not come without her permission, Evras finally took a bracing breathe, and then straightened up, one hand still on Dion's shoulder as she waited for her husband, and followed him and Asia to quietly return to the manor... not at all anticipating the conversation that would follow.
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Having Thea come to her side was decidedly more comforting, although by a measure that really did not help much when it was obvious neither of them were going to be placed in great light at the moment. Sure, Dionysios had just attempted murder on a monarch, but could she genuinely just watch her father die in front of her eyes? It was human nature to balk against something of that occurence, and Evras merely acted on instinct when she had darted to stand between her father and the soldiers when they had moved, not even thinking of the consequences.
Evras's hand instinctively sought out Thea's, terror making her seek a comforting figure, and Thea was as comforting as they came, the presence of her sister her only anchor in a time when it felt as if the ground was being pulled out from under her.
Gulping when Thea addressed Stephanos instead, Evras's eyes flashed momentarily to her husband, but as if she was fearful to see how he looked at this moment, she instead chose to follow her sister's tact and looked to Stepanos as well, nodding to affirm Thea's words. "We have physicians, the necessary dressing and salves for your injury, Your Highness, if you would-" but before Evras got a chance to finish her sentence, it was obvious Vangelis had other plans, for he started speaking instead, instructions that the newly resurrected King merely nodded to agree with.
So shadowed by doubt, she stepped back once again, even as she knew she had to follow as Vangelis instructed. She knew her brother in law was only asking her husband to keep them save when he tasked Zanon to bring herself, Athanasia and her son to return to the Kotas manor, yet the one man who was supposed to keep her safe was now once again a man she dared not meet his eyes, for fear of what she would find there this time. Instead, her eyes roamed to find her brother's, catching Dysius and Mihail's eyes, Evras mouthed a sharp 'Go home.' for them, before focusing as Thea spoke.
Following Thea, she too murmured her own thanks at sparing her father for now, and watched helplessly as Thea was taken away by Lady Selene. Oh how she wanted to follow, but what choice did she have?
Biting her bottom lip, Evras crouched when Dion came running for her, catching her son when he wrapped his arms around her neck, thankful that he was around to prevent a dam of tears, and the bile that now rose at the back of he throat, threatening to make its presence known by throwing up. Using the excuse of hugging Dion to remain crouched for a moment longer to ensure tears would not come without her permission, Evras finally took a bracing breathe, and then straightened up, one hand still on Dion's shoulder as she waited for her husband, and followed him and Asia to quietly return to the manor... not at all anticipating the conversation that would follow.
Having Thea come to her side was decidedly more comforting, although by a measure that really did not help much when it was obvious neither of them were going to be placed in great light at the moment. Sure, Dionysios had just attempted murder on a monarch, but could she genuinely just watch her father die in front of her eyes? It was human nature to balk against something of that occurence, and Evras merely acted on instinct when she had darted to stand between her father and the soldiers when they had moved, not even thinking of the consequences.
Evras's hand instinctively sought out Thea's, terror making her seek a comforting figure, and Thea was as comforting as they came, the presence of her sister her only anchor in a time when it felt as if the ground was being pulled out from under her.
Gulping when Thea addressed Stephanos instead, Evras's eyes flashed momentarily to her husband, but as if she was fearful to see how he looked at this moment, she instead chose to follow her sister's tact and looked to Stepanos as well, nodding to affirm Thea's words. "We have physicians, the necessary dressing and salves for your injury, Your Highness, if you would-" but before Evras got a chance to finish her sentence, it was obvious Vangelis had other plans, for he started speaking instead, instructions that the newly resurrected King merely nodded to agree with.
So shadowed by doubt, she stepped back once again, even as she knew she had to follow as Vangelis instructed. She knew her brother in law was only asking her husband to keep them save when he tasked Zanon to bring herself, Athanasia and her son to return to the Kotas manor, yet the one man who was supposed to keep her safe was now once again a man she dared not meet his eyes, for fear of what she would find there this time. Instead, her eyes roamed to find her brother's, catching Dysius and Mihail's eyes, Evras mouthed a sharp 'Go home.' for them, before focusing as Thea spoke.
Following Thea, she too murmured her own thanks at sparing her father for now, and watched helplessly as Thea was taken away by Lady Selene. Oh how she wanted to follow, but what choice did she have?
Biting her bottom lip, Evras crouched when Dion came running for her, catching her son when he wrapped his arms around her neck, thankful that he was around to prevent a dam of tears, and the bile that now rose at the back of he throat, threatening to make its presence known by throwing up. Using the excuse of hugging Dion to remain crouched for a moment longer to ensure tears would not come without her permission, Evras finally took a bracing breathe, and then straightened up, one hand still on Dion's shoulder as she waited for her husband, and followed him and Asia to quietly return to the manor... not at all anticipating the conversation that would follow.
She had hovered next to Vangelis, at least until she was certain the prince wasn't about to dash headfirst into danger. Yet Nike could only look upon in horror as the Thanasi old man lunged at the King, the very King she had stared wide-eyed at when he entered the halls. Had he not been pronounced dead? That was the first piece of news they had got when they arrived on the shores of Colchis. Yet here he stood on his own two feet, alive, hale and well, obviously not an apparition for Athanasia clung on to his very corporeal body, so at least Nike could make sure she was not hallucinating.
Taking a moment before the Commander got over her surprise, Nike quickly shifted when she heard Vangelis move, one eye on her General whilst the other stayed to watch Dionysios get his arm wrenched, and people rushed to the scene to assist the King. Standing on the other side of Vangelis meant she could not reach the second prince as Zanon tried to get forward, but Nike was quick to respond when Vangelis's voice addressed her.
Nodding sharply, she sheathed her claymore, but signalled her men to move forward, grabbing Dionysios's arm from Stephanos in a vise grip, and a small tilt of acknowledgement from her to the supposed King of Taengea. Whilst Stephanos and herself have had their fair share of disagreements, for she simply did not agree with certain actions he took, in this Nike could not fault him, for it was his quick thinking that saved their kingdom's monarch.
Ensuring her grip was firm, it was barely any time before her men came, half a dozen of them taking the captive Thanasi lord from her, as she moved to stand in front of them. One quick glance over her shoulder was enough to ensure that the rear was being brought up by another of her captains, before Nike led the way to the order house of the Red Knights, where she would remain guarding the captive until her General would come for the questioning.
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She had hovered next to Vangelis, at least until she was certain the prince wasn't about to dash headfirst into danger. Yet Nike could only look upon in horror as the Thanasi old man lunged at the King, the very King she had stared wide-eyed at when he entered the halls. Had he not been pronounced dead? That was the first piece of news they had got when they arrived on the shores of Colchis. Yet here he stood on his own two feet, alive, hale and well, obviously not an apparition for Athanasia clung on to his very corporeal body, so at least Nike could make sure she was not hallucinating.
Taking a moment before the Commander got over her surprise, Nike quickly shifted when she heard Vangelis move, one eye on her General whilst the other stayed to watch Dionysios get his arm wrenched, and people rushed to the scene to assist the King. Standing on the other side of Vangelis meant she could not reach the second prince as Zanon tried to get forward, but Nike was quick to respond when Vangelis's voice addressed her.
Nodding sharply, she sheathed her claymore, but signalled her men to move forward, grabbing Dionysios's arm from Stephanos in a vise grip, and a small tilt of acknowledgement from her to the supposed King of Taengea. Whilst Stephanos and herself have had their fair share of disagreements, for she simply did not agree with certain actions he took, in this Nike could not fault him, for it was his quick thinking that saved their kingdom's monarch.
Ensuring her grip was firm, it was barely any time before her men came, half a dozen of them taking the captive Thanasi lord from her, as she moved to stand in front of them. One quick glance over her shoulder was enough to ensure that the rear was being brought up by another of her captains, before Nike led the way to the order house of the Red Knights, where she would remain guarding the captive until her General would come for the questioning.
She had hovered next to Vangelis, at least until she was certain the prince wasn't about to dash headfirst into danger. Yet Nike could only look upon in horror as the Thanasi old man lunged at the King, the very King she had stared wide-eyed at when he entered the halls. Had he not been pronounced dead? That was the first piece of news they had got when they arrived on the shores of Colchis. Yet here he stood on his own two feet, alive, hale and well, obviously not an apparition for Athanasia clung on to his very corporeal body, so at least Nike could make sure she was not hallucinating.
Taking a moment before the Commander got over her surprise, Nike quickly shifted when she heard Vangelis move, one eye on her General whilst the other stayed to watch Dionysios get his arm wrenched, and people rushed to the scene to assist the King. Standing on the other side of Vangelis meant she could not reach the second prince as Zanon tried to get forward, but Nike was quick to respond when Vangelis's voice addressed her.
Nodding sharply, she sheathed her claymore, but signalled her men to move forward, grabbing Dionysios's arm from Stephanos in a vise grip, and a small tilt of acknowledgement from her to the supposed King of Taengea. Whilst Stephanos and herself have had their fair share of disagreements, for she simply did not agree with certain actions he took, in this Nike could not fault him, for it was his quick thinking that saved their kingdom's monarch.
Ensuring her grip was firm, it was barely any time before her men came, half a dozen of them taking the captive Thanasi lord from her, as she moved to stand in front of them. One quick glance over her shoulder was enough to ensure that the rear was being brought up by another of her captains, before Nike led the way to the order house of the Red Knights, where she would remain guarding the captive until her General would come for the questioning.
Silanos was gracious enough to pretend not to notice the tears that Imeeya was so hastily wiping away as she came to her feet. He was hardly going to hold it against her. After setting her upright again, the Lord’s attention was called away to where he heard his name being spoken, but if he were honest, Sil was glad to have a reason to turn away from Maleos - it was hard to set aside his indignation at how the man treated him at the barracks, even if he would not dare do so here.
That, and there was a genuine concern for the Drakos girl, who despite her hoity-toity attitude, was clearly shaken by everything that occurred. Maybe, in hindsight, Silanos would be able to appreciate that his choice of comfort was less than stellar, given their prior interactions. But it was just habit with him, if in doubt, have a drink. And so he offered it over with only the best of intentions.
Which was why, when Sil caught a faceful of wine in return for his kind gesture, he was a little surprised, and stood there a moment with it running down his face and dripping onto the marble of the floor. “Well that was unnecessary” was all he managed before Lady Imeeya had flounced off, and Sil snatched up a linen napkin to wipe over his face, conscious of what that must have looked like to those around them If that was the thanks he got for trying to be nice then she could fall into the deepest pit in Tartarus for all he cared.
Whatever. Now he was covered in wine and Sil really didn’t want to have to explain to Timaeus why Lady Imeeya of Drakos was throwing things at him. Nor did he want to stand next to Maleos and be asked the same thing, though he knew at least Iolanthe would have an inkling.
It was not a difficult decision for the Lord to make then, to move towards the doors where he stopped and interrogated for a few moments by one of the guardsmen. Silanos dutifully gave his name and then stared at the soldier long enough to disavow him of any curiosity towards the lord’s bedraggled appearance. The younger Valaoritis brother slipped away without having to face the elder, to his intense relief.
It had been an eventful night and not of the fun variety, and Sil was not at all unhappy to escape the Dikastirio and breathe a few gulps of fresh air. He had not forgotten the look Vangelis had directed at him before all chaos had let loose, and could only hope that the Stone Prince who was King and then Prince again would forget his promises in the wake of his father’s return and with the question of attempted regicide to be addressed. He would just keep his head down, perhaps send Athanasia a letter to minimise any offence he had given. It was as much as he could do, now.
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Silanos was gracious enough to pretend not to notice the tears that Imeeya was so hastily wiping away as she came to her feet. He was hardly going to hold it against her. After setting her upright again, the Lord’s attention was called away to where he heard his name being spoken, but if he were honest, Sil was glad to have a reason to turn away from Maleos - it was hard to set aside his indignation at how the man treated him at the barracks, even if he would not dare do so here.
That, and there was a genuine concern for the Drakos girl, who despite her hoity-toity attitude, was clearly shaken by everything that occurred. Maybe, in hindsight, Silanos would be able to appreciate that his choice of comfort was less than stellar, given their prior interactions. But it was just habit with him, if in doubt, have a drink. And so he offered it over with only the best of intentions.
Which was why, when Sil caught a faceful of wine in return for his kind gesture, he was a little surprised, and stood there a moment with it running down his face and dripping onto the marble of the floor. “Well that was unnecessary” was all he managed before Lady Imeeya had flounced off, and Sil snatched up a linen napkin to wipe over his face, conscious of what that must have looked like to those around them If that was the thanks he got for trying to be nice then she could fall into the deepest pit in Tartarus for all he cared.
Whatever. Now he was covered in wine and Sil really didn’t want to have to explain to Timaeus why Lady Imeeya of Drakos was throwing things at him. Nor did he want to stand next to Maleos and be asked the same thing, though he knew at least Iolanthe would have an inkling.
It was not a difficult decision for the Lord to make then, to move towards the doors where he stopped and interrogated for a few moments by one of the guardsmen. Silanos dutifully gave his name and then stared at the soldier long enough to disavow him of any curiosity towards the lord’s bedraggled appearance. The younger Valaoritis brother slipped away without having to face the elder, to his intense relief.
It had been an eventful night and not of the fun variety, and Sil was not at all unhappy to escape the Dikastirio and breathe a few gulps of fresh air. He had not forgotten the look Vangelis had directed at him before all chaos had let loose, and could only hope that the Stone Prince who was King and then Prince again would forget his promises in the wake of his father’s return and with the question of attempted regicide to be addressed. He would just keep his head down, perhaps send Athanasia a letter to minimise any offence he had given. It was as much as he could do, now.
Silanos was gracious enough to pretend not to notice the tears that Imeeya was so hastily wiping away as she came to her feet. He was hardly going to hold it against her. After setting her upright again, the Lord’s attention was called away to where he heard his name being spoken, but if he were honest, Sil was glad to have a reason to turn away from Maleos - it was hard to set aside his indignation at how the man treated him at the barracks, even if he would not dare do so here.
That, and there was a genuine concern for the Drakos girl, who despite her hoity-toity attitude, was clearly shaken by everything that occurred. Maybe, in hindsight, Silanos would be able to appreciate that his choice of comfort was less than stellar, given their prior interactions. But it was just habit with him, if in doubt, have a drink. And so he offered it over with only the best of intentions.
Which was why, when Sil caught a faceful of wine in return for his kind gesture, he was a little surprised, and stood there a moment with it running down his face and dripping onto the marble of the floor. “Well that was unnecessary” was all he managed before Lady Imeeya had flounced off, and Sil snatched up a linen napkin to wipe over his face, conscious of what that must have looked like to those around them If that was the thanks he got for trying to be nice then she could fall into the deepest pit in Tartarus for all he cared.
Whatever. Now he was covered in wine and Sil really didn’t want to have to explain to Timaeus why Lady Imeeya of Drakos was throwing things at him. Nor did he want to stand next to Maleos and be asked the same thing, though he knew at least Iolanthe would have an inkling.
It was not a difficult decision for the Lord to make then, to move towards the doors where he stopped and interrogated for a few moments by one of the guardsmen. Silanos dutifully gave his name and then stared at the soldier long enough to disavow him of any curiosity towards the lord’s bedraggled appearance. The younger Valaoritis brother slipped away without having to face the elder, to his intense relief.
It had been an eventful night and not of the fun variety, and Sil was not at all unhappy to escape the Dikastirio and breathe a few gulps of fresh air. He had not forgotten the look Vangelis had directed at him before all chaos had let loose, and could only hope that the Stone Prince who was King and then Prince again would forget his promises in the wake of his father’s return and with the question of attempted regicide to be addressed. He would just keep his head down, perhaps send Athanasia a letter to minimise any offence he had given. It was as much as he could do, now.