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Athanasia might have stayed in her room forever had it not been for her mother. After learning of her father's death, she lost all interest in anything but lying on her bed and crying her eyes out. She felt so guilty about the way she had treated the late King, such as rolling her eyes and making factitious comments when he treated her like a delicate little doll. It was the birth of King Stephanos' and Queen Olympia's little daughter that had made her realize how lucky she was to have such loving parents, even if they coddled her. They had wanted a girl when she had been born, and she'd never had to endure disappointment because they would have preferred a prince. They'd already had four of those by the time she came along.
She had promised herself that she would change when she returned to Colchis, that she would let them know how much she appreciated them and would not balk at how they treated her ever again. The young princess also promised herself that she would try to be more ladylike and decorous and try to make them proud of her. But now Athanasia could never tell her father how much she loved him. That chance was gone forever. Nor could she let him see Taengea through her eyes. Of course, he had been there before, many times, but she thought he would be interested in what she thought of the kingdom.
Not even archery interested her anymore. She just wanted to be left alone to grieve.
Her mother had entered her room on the third day of Athanasia's self-enforced solitude and informed her that she would be helping Evras plan the feast that was to be held in a few days time. At first she wanted no part of it, but eventually she began to enjoy coming up with ideas for decorations and helping to plan the menu. There was so much to do that she had very little time to dwell on her sorrow. And she knew deep in her heart that her father wouldn't want her to put her life on hold to mourn for him. He would want her to live her it to the fullest in honor of him, which she fully intended to do.
She and Evras had decided to stop for the day and now the princess was headed back to the royal quarters. Restless as usual, she was considering taking a ride before dinner. Generally, she rode after the evening meal, but the days were becoming shorter now. And Ambrosia certainly needed the exercise. The white mare had not bee ridden since Athanasia had left for Taengea. She didn't even know her new name yet. 'Moonlight,' she had decided during the journey home, didn't fit the horse as well as 'Ambrosia', and who knew if horses recognized their names anyway?
Turning a corner, she saw Vangelis in front of her, heading in the same direction. She hadn't seen much of him since they had left the ship, but that was expected. He had to attend to his new duties as King and that left little time for his only sister. She suddenly felt the need to apologize to him for selfishly abandoning him and thinking only of herself. Athanasia regretted her actions immensely. He needed his family more than ever now and she had failed him.
Well, it wasn't too late to make amends. Quickening her pace, she caught up with him and fell into step beside him. “Good evening, Vang,” she said, smiling up at him. “Did Mother tell you that I'm helping Evras plan the feast? The preparations are going quite well.”
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Sept 26, 2019 19:06:57 GMT
Posted In Making Amends on Sept 26, 2019 19:06:57 GMT
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Athanasia might have stayed in her room forever had it not been for her mother. After learning of her father's death, she lost all interest in anything but lying on her bed and crying her eyes out. She felt so guilty about the way she had treated the late King, such as rolling her eyes and making factitious comments when he treated her like a delicate little doll. It was the birth of King Stephanos' and Queen Olympia's little daughter that had made her realize how lucky she was to have such loving parents, even if they coddled her. They had wanted a girl when she had been born, and she'd never had to endure disappointment because they would have preferred a prince. They'd already had four of those by the time she came along.
She had promised herself that she would change when she returned to Colchis, that she would let them know how much she appreciated them and would not balk at how they treated her ever again. The young princess also promised herself that she would try to be more ladylike and decorous and try to make them proud of her. But now Athanasia could never tell her father how much she loved him. That chance was gone forever. Nor could she let him see Taengea through her eyes. Of course, he had been there before, many times, but she thought he would be interested in what she thought of the kingdom.
Not even archery interested her anymore. She just wanted to be left alone to grieve.
Her mother had entered her room on the third day of Athanasia's self-enforced solitude and informed her that she would be helping Evras plan the feast that was to be held in a few days time. At first she wanted no part of it, but eventually she began to enjoy coming up with ideas for decorations and helping to plan the menu. There was so much to do that she had very little time to dwell on her sorrow. And she knew deep in her heart that her father wouldn't want her to put her life on hold to mourn for him. He would want her to live her it to the fullest in honor of him, which she fully intended to do.
She and Evras had decided to stop for the day and now the princess was headed back to the royal quarters. Restless as usual, she was considering taking a ride before dinner. Generally, she rode after the evening meal, but the days were becoming shorter now. And Ambrosia certainly needed the exercise. The white mare had not bee ridden since Athanasia had left for Taengea. She didn't even know her new name yet. 'Moonlight,' she had decided during the journey home, didn't fit the horse as well as 'Ambrosia', and who knew if horses recognized their names anyway?
Turning a corner, she saw Vangelis in front of her, heading in the same direction. She hadn't seen much of him since they had left the ship, but that was expected. He had to attend to his new duties as King and that left little time for his only sister. She suddenly felt the need to apologize to him for selfishly abandoning him and thinking only of herself. Athanasia regretted her actions immensely. He needed his family more than ever now and she had failed him.
Well, it wasn't too late to make amends. Quickening her pace, she caught up with him and fell into step beside him. “Good evening, Vang,” she said, smiling up at him. “Did Mother tell you that I'm helping Evras plan the feast? The preparations are going quite well.”
Athanasia might have stayed in her room forever had it not been for her mother. After learning of her father's death, she lost all interest in anything but lying on her bed and crying her eyes out. She felt so guilty about the way she had treated the late King, such as rolling her eyes and making factitious comments when he treated her like a delicate little doll. It was the birth of King Stephanos' and Queen Olympia's little daughter that had made her realize how lucky she was to have such loving parents, even if they coddled her. They had wanted a girl when she had been born, and she'd never had to endure disappointment because they would have preferred a prince. They'd already had four of those by the time she came along.
She had promised herself that she would change when she returned to Colchis, that she would let them know how much she appreciated them and would not balk at how they treated her ever again. The young princess also promised herself that she would try to be more ladylike and decorous and try to make them proud of her. But now Athanasia could never tell her father how much she loved him. That chance was gone forever. Nor could she let him see Taengea through her eyes. Of course, he had been there before, many times, but she thought he would be interested in what she thought of the kingdom.
Not even archery interested her anymore. She just wanted to be left alone to grieve.
Her mother had entered her room on the third day of Athanasia's self-enforced solitude and informed her that she would be helping Evras plan the feast that was to be held in a few days time. At first she wanted no part of it, but eventually she began to enjoy coming up with ideas for decorations and helping to plan the menu. There was so much to do that she had very little time to dwell on her sorrow. And she knew deep in her heart that her father wouldn't want her to put her life on hold to mourn for him. He would want her to live her it to the fullest in honor of him, which she fully intended to do.
She and Evras had decided to stop for the day and now the princess was headed back to the royal quarters. Restless as usual, she was considering taking a ride before dinner. Generally, she rode after the evening meal, but the days were becoming shorter now. And Ambrosia certainly needed the exercise. The white mare had not bee ridden since Athanasia had left for Taengea. She didn't even know her new name yet. 'Moonlight,' she had decided during the journey home, didn't fit the horse as well as 'Ambrosia', and who knew if horses recognized their names anyway?
Turning a corner, she saw Vangelis in front of her, heading in the same direction. She hadn't seen much of him since they had left the ship, but that was expected. He had to attend to his new duties as King and that left little time for his only sister. She suddenly felt the need to apologize to him for selfishly abandoning him and thinking only of herself. Athanasia regretted her actions immensely. He needed his family more than ever now and she had failed him.
Well, it wasn't too late to make amends. Quickening her pace, she caught up with him and fell into step beside him. “Good evening, Vang,” she said, smiling up at him. “Did Mother tell you that I'm helping Evras plan the feast? The preparations are going quite well.”
At the sound of his given name - even more so the rarely used nickname that was employed only by his few nearest and dearest - Vangelis's steps immediately slowed. Having held a meet with his military officers that day, he was gowned more formally than usual, in a knee length, double shouldered chiton of black and sandals laced to the knee that sported grieves. His arms bore bracers from wrist to elbow and the official crown still rested around his temples. With the deep tan of his skin from being at sea so often during the summer, he was a towering pillar of black, brown and gold.
Which meant that he hadn't much thought of himself as Vangelis all day, the role of General and King taking over entirely. It was rare now to be reminded of his birth name. Even his siblings and mother were now expected, by etiquette, to call him 'your majesty'. Though of course he wasn't interested in them doing so and wasn't at all surprised that it was his young sister - famous for her lack of the finer details of polite society - that had made the error in address. For whatever reason that was, however, he was thankful. It was nice to know that her impressions of him had not changed with his new position as monarch.
"She had." He commented in response to her question, remaining stationary until she had caught up to him. Only then did he turn to walk beside her, as they seemed to be headed in the same direction. "With your combined efforts, I have every confidence that the meal will be a success. Evras has much experience with these sorts of projects. Make sure to learn from her."
Conscious of the fact that he had had little time to spend with his sister since the news of their father's passing and that, while he was a man used to loss and death in his profession, the grieving of a father would hit a young woman far harder than he, Vangelis felt the impulse to continue the conversation where he might have otherwise not. He did not wish Athanasia to feel dismissed by his busy schedule as he as a man had felt dismissed by his new duties.
At the same time, however, he did not feel it to be appropriate to query her emotional state in the open corridors of the manor. With so many foreign guests aboard in the archontiko, their home was not the private place it had once been.
"Are you busy now, Athanasia?" Vangelis asked his sister, mentally saying a farewell to his solo ride in the Kotas grounds. He could find a moment for his own solace another time. "I am about to go for a ride. You could join me if you wish?"
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At the sound of his given name - even more so the rarely used nickname that was employed only by his few nearest and dearest - Vangelis's steps immediately slowed. Having held a meet with his military officers that day, he was gowned more formally than usual, in a knee length, double shouldered chiton of black and sandals laced to the knee that sported grieves. His arms bore bracers from wrist to elbow and the official crown still rested around his temples. With the deep tan of his skin from being at sea so often during the summer, he was a towering pillar of black, brown and gold.
Which meant that he hadn't much thought of himself as Vangelis all day, the role of General and King taking over entirely. It was rare now to be reminded of his birth name. Even his siblings and mother were now expected, by etiquette, to call him 'your majesty'. Though of course he wasn't interested in them doing so and wasn't at all surprised that it was his young sister - famous for her lack of the finer details of polite society - that had made the error in address. For whatever reason that was, however, he was thankful. It was nice to know that her impressions of him had not changed with his new position as monarch.
"She had." He commented in response to her question, remaining stationary until she had caught up to him. Only then did he turn to walk beside her, as they seemed to be headed in the same direction. "With your combined efforts, I have every confidence that the meal will be a success. Evras has much experience with these sorts of projects. Make sure to learn from her."
Conscious of the fact that he had had little time to spend with his sister since the news of their father's passing and that, while he was a man used to loss and death in his profession, the grieving of a father would hit a young woman far harder than he, Vangelis felt the impulse to continue the conversation where he might have otherwise not. He did not wish Athanasia to feel dismissed by his busy schedule as he as a man had felt dismissed by his new duties.
At the same time, however, he did not feel it to be appropriate to query her emotional state in the open corridors of the manor. With so many foreign guests aboard in the archontiko, their home was not the private place it had once been.
"Are you busy now, Athanasia?" Vangelis asked his sister, mentally saying a farewell to his solo ride in the Kotas grounds. He could find a moment for his own solace another time. "I am about to go for a ride. You could join me if you wish?"
At the sound of his given name - even more so the rarely used nickname that was employed only by his few nearest and dearest - Vangelis's steps immediately slowed. Having held a meet with his military officers that day, he was gowned more formally than usual, in a knee length, double shouldered chiton of black and sandals laced to the knee that sported grieves. His arms bore bracers from wrist to elbow and the official crown still rested around his temples. With the deep tan of his skin from being at sea so often during the summer, he was a towering pillar of black, brown and gold.
Which meant that he hadn't much thought of himself as Vangelis all day, the role of General and King taking over entirely. It was rare now to be reminded of his birth name. Even his siblings and mother were now expected, by etiquette, to call him 'your majesty'. Though of course he wasn't interested in them doing so and wasn't at all surprised that it was his young sister - famous for her lack of the finer details of polite society - that had made the error in address. For whatever reason that was, however, he was thankful. It was nice to know that her impressions of him had not changed with his new position as monarch.
"She had." He commented in response to her question, remaining stationary until she had caught up to him. Only then did he turn to walk beside her, as they seemed to be headed in the same direction. "With your combined efforts, I have every confidence that the meal will be a success. Evras has much experience with these sorts of projects. Make sure to learn from her."
Conscious of the fact that he had had little time to spend with his sister since the news of their father's passing and that, while he was a man used to loss and death in his profession, the grieving of a father would hit a young woman far harder than he, Vangelis felt the impulse to continue the conversation where he might have otherwise not. He did not wish Athanasia to feel dismissed by his busy schedule as he as a man had felt dismissed by his new duties.
At the same time, however, he did not feel it to be appropriate to query her emotional state in the open corridors of the manor. With so many foreign guests aboard in the archontiko, their home was not the private place it had once been.
"Are you busy now, Athanasia?" Vangelis asked his sister, mentally saying a farewell to his solo ride in the Kotas grounds. He could find a moment for his own solace another time. "I am about to go for a ride. You could join me if you wish?"
Gazing up at her eldest brother as she caught up to him, Athanasia thought how kingly he looked in his black chiton with bracers of gold around his forearms. Their father's crown looked as if it had been made for him. Vangelis had been born to be King, though his reign had come too soon. Still, he seemed to be handling it well if his current demeanor was anything to go by. Tall and imposing, nobody would dare to refuse anything he commanded of them.
While she understood that she should now address him as 'Your Majesty,' her mind was too consumed by grief to remember formalities. And she didn't want him to be her King at the moment. Beneath the crown was her brother and that was who she wished him to be for her now. She had never stood much on ceremony anyway, particularly in her own home. Even had she remembered, she might have called him 'Vang' anyway.
A pang of guilt pierced her heart when he confirmed that their mother had told him that she was helping to plan the feast. Of course, he would need to consult with the Queen on political matters, but the fact that their mother had not shut him out the way she had brought back her regret. Athanasia would not have spoken with Queen Yanni either if she had not insisted that her daughter open the door and let her in.
“It will make you proud,” Athanasia promised. “And I am already learning a lot from Evras.” When she married, she knew she would be responsible for running a royal household. That part of her education had bored her and she hadn't paid as much attention as she should, but her sister-in-law was so very good at handling any situation that came her way, that the princess wanted to be able to do the same. Perhaps Vangelis was reminding her of that eventual duty, though she hoped he didn't plan to marry her off any time soon.
She beamed when he asked if she had time for a ride. “I would love to. I was thinking of going on one anyway before dinner. My horse hasn't been ridden since we left for Taengea. She could use the exercise. Shall we go now?” she asked in an eager tone of voice. “Or do you want to change first?” The deep plum peplos Athanasia was wearing was a bit ornate for riding, but she certainly wouldn't protest if Vangelis wanted to leave for the stables immediately. Her biggest fear was that with time to think, he might change his mind.
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Gazing up at her eldest brother as she caught up to him, Athanasia thought how kingly he looked in his black chiton with bracers of gold around his forearms. Their father's crown looked as if it had been made for him. Vangelis had been born to be King, though his reign had come too soon. Still, he seemed to be handling it well if his current demeanor was anything to go by. Tall and imposing, nobody would dare to refuse anything he commanded of them.
While she understood that she should now address him as 'Your Majesty,' her mind was too consumed by grief to remember formalities. And she didn't want him to be her King at the moment. Beneath the crown was her brother and that was who she wished him to be for her now. She had never stood much on ceremony anyway, particularly in her own home. Even had she remembered, she might have called him 'Vang' anyway.
A pang of guilt pierced her heart when he confirmed that their mother had told him that she was helping to plan the feast. Of course, he would need to consult with the Queen on political matters, but the fact that their mother had not shut him out the way she had brought back her regret. Athanasia would not have spoken with Queen Yanni either if she had not insisted that her daughter open the door and let her in.
“It will make you proud,” Athanasia promised. “And I am already learning a lot from Evras.” When she married, she knew she would be responsible for running a royal household. That part of her education had bored her and she hadn't paid as much attention as she should, but her sister-in-law was so very good at handling any situation that came her way, that the princess wanted to be able to do the same. Perhaps Vangelis was reminding her of that eventual duty, though she hoped he didn't plan to marry her off any time soon.
She beamed when he asked if she had time for a ride. “I would love to. I was thinking of going on one anyway before dinner. My horse hasn't been ridden since we left for Taengea. She could use the exercise. Shall we go now?” she asked in an eager tone of voice. “Or do you want to change first?” The deep plum peplos Athanasia was wearing was a bit ornate for riding, but she certainly wouldn't protest if Vangelis wanted to leave for the stables immediately. Her biggest fear was that with time to think, he might change his mind.
Gazing up at her eldest brother as she caught up to him, Athanasia thought how kingly he looked in his black chiton with bracers of gold around his forearms. Their father's crown looked as if it had been made for him. Vangelis had been born to be King, though his reign had come too soon. Still, he seemed to be handling it well if his current demeanor was anything to go by. Tall and imposing, nobody would dare to refuse anything he commanded of them.
While she understood that she should now address him as 'Your Majesty,' her mind was too consumed by grief to remember formalities. And she didn't want him to be her King at the moment. Beneath the crown was her brother and that was who she wished him to be for her now. She had never stood much on ceremony anyway, particularly in her own home. Even had she remembered, she might have called him 'Vang' anyway.
A pang of guilt pierced her heart when he confirmed that their mother had told him that she was helping to plan the feast. Of course, he would need to consult with the Queen on political matters, but the fact that their mother had not shut him out the way she had brought back her regret. Athanasia would not have spoken with Queen Yanni either if she had not insisted that her daughter open the door and let her in.
“It will make you proud,” Athanasia promised. “And I am already learning a lot from Evras.” When she married, she knew she would be responsible for running a royal household. That part of her education had bored her and she hadn't paid as much attention as she should, but her sister-in-law was so very good at handling any situation that came her way, that the princess wanted to be able to do the same. Perhaps Vangelis was reminding her of that eventual duty, though she hoped he didn't plan to marry her off any time soon.
She beamed when he asked if she had time for a ride. “I would love to. I was thinking of going on one anyway before dinner. My horse hasn't been ridden since we left for Taengea. She could use the exercise. Shall we go now?” she asked in an eager tone of voice. “Or do you want to change first?” The deep plum peplos Athanasia was wearing was a bit ornate for riding, but she certainly wouldn't protest if Vangelis wanted to leave for the stables immediately. Her biggest fear was that with time to think, he might change his mind.
Watching as his youngest sibling, and only sister, drew herself to her finer state of poise and assured him that the event she was helping to plan would run smoothly and that she was learning from her sister-in-law, Vangelis had the promised complete confidence in her. Whilst Athanasia was not the most decorum-driven young woman, and the calmer subtleties of etiquette were entirely lost on her, she was Kotas in the sense that she never gave up.
One of the most prevailing characteristics in the Kotas family was that of stubbornness and dogged determination. It simply wasn't over until victory had been achieved, whether it too five minutes or five years. If it was the right course of action and it was for the lives of innocents (or your family) that you persisted, then you continued ever onwards.
He had every faith that while it might take Athanasia three times as long to manage certain elements of the events arrangements due to lack of experience or mistakes, he was also entirely confident that she would lose sleep, skip meals and work herself to the bone if it was what was necessary to ensure the event was a success.
A man of few words, however, all of this was conveyed - or not - not through verbal validation or assurance, but a simple hand heavy upon his sister's shoulder and a solemn nod of certainty in her words.
When the conversation turned to suggest a change of clothes, Vangelis looked down at himself but his expression was uncaring. His attire - despite the crown - was not inconvenient for riding and he would be perfectly comfortable. His sister on the other hand... his gaze raked her from head to foot with a quick and assessing glance.
"I am ready to ride, as is." He commented, without hesitation. "But, if you need to change, I shall meet you in the stables..." His tone was firm and finite. Not exactly friendly but not frustrated at the delay either. It was simply a statement of fact without emotion either way. "Bring your bow and we might perhaps catch something."
And with a soft, half curl of his lips, Vangelis left Athanasia there in the corridor, not one to mollycoddle and follow her to her chambers but instantly on his path to the stables, detouring only for a moment to deposit his crown with a trusted guardsman who would return it to the family vault.
By the time Athanasia joined him once more in the stables, Vangelis was securing tack onto his horse, her own mare already suited ready for the ride and moored to an iron hoop in the wall by the stables gateway. His own steed, Phobos - the magnificent, young and wild black stallion - was still unbroken in the stables and reared its head in disapproval at Vangelis' forgoing of him in favour of the older and faithful Windrunner.
"Soon." Vangelis commented to the animal with an assuring nod that Phobos didn't seem to believe.
Whilst the animal was exercised, kept highly cared for and given a life of luxury as the future warhorse of the king, Vangelis was determined to break the animal himself, before he could be ridden. But he did not have the time right now.
Windrunner stood patiently and with a regal elegance that showed up against Phobos' youthful power. Within a few more moments, he had the leather in place and was leading the creature from the stall, smiling at his sister.
"Ready to go?"
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Nov 10, 2019 22:26:49 GMT
Posted In Making Amends on Nov 10, 2019 22:26:49 GMT
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Watching as his youngest sibling, and only sister, drew herself to her finer state of poise and assured him that the event she was helping to plan would run smoothly and that she was learning from her sister-in-law, Vangelis had the promised complete confidence in her. Whilst Athanasia was not the most decorum-driven young woman, and the calmer subtleties of etiquette were entirely lost on her, she was Kotas in the sense that she never gave up.
One of the most prevailing characteristics in the Kotas family was that of stubbornness and dogged determination. It simply wasn't over until victory had been achieved, whether it too five minutes or five years. If it was the right course of action and it was for the lives of innocents (or your family) that you persisted, then you continued ever onwards.
He had every faith that while it might take Athanasia three times as long to manage certain elements of the events arrangements due to lack of experience or mistakes, he was also entirely confident that she would lose sleep, skip meals and work herself to the bone if it was what was necessary to ensure the event was a success.
A man of few words, however, all of this was conveyed - or not - not through verbal validation or assurance, but a simple hand heavy upon his sister's shoulder and a solemn nod of certainty in her words.
When the conversation turned to suggest a change of clothes, Vangelis looked down at himself but his expression was uncaring. His attire - despite the crown - was not inconvenient for riding and he would be perfectly comfortable. His sister on the other hand... his gaze raked her from head to foot with a quick and assessing glance.
"I am ready to ride, as is." He commented, without hesitation. "But, if you need to change, I shall meet you in the stables..." His tone was firm and finite. Not exactly friendly but not frustrated at the delay either. It was simply a statement of fact without emotion either way. "Bring your bow and we might perhaps catch something."
And with a soft, half curl of his lips, Vangelis left Athanasia there in the corridor, not one to mollycoddle and follow her to her chambers but instantly on his path to the stables, detouring only for a moment to deposit his crown with a trusted guardsman who would return it to the family vault.
By the time Athanasia joined him once more in the stables, Vangelis was securing tack onto his horse, her own mare already suited ready for the ride and moored to an iron hoop in the wall by the stables gateway. His own steed, Phobos - the magnificent, young and wild black stallion - was still unbroken in the stables and reared its head in disapproval at Vangelis' forgoing of him in favour of the older and faithful Windrunner.
"Soon." Vangelis commented to the animal with an assuring nod that Phobos didn't seem to believe.
Whilst the animal was exercised, kept highly cared for and given a life of luxury as the future warhorse of the king, Vangelis was determined to break the animal himself, before he could be ridden. But he did not have the time right now.
Windrunner stood patiently and with a regal elegance that showed up against Phobos' youthful power. Within a few more moments, he had the leather in place and was leading the creature from the stall, smiling at his sister.
"Ready to go?"
Watching as his youngest sibling, and only sister, drew herself to her finer state of poise and assured him that the event she was helping to plan would run smoothly and that she was learning from her sister-in-law, Vangelis had the promised complete confidence in her. Whilst Athanasia was not the most decorum-driven young woman, and the calmer subtleties of etiquette were entirely lost on her, she was Kotas in the sense that she never gave up.
One of the most prevailing characteristics in the Kotas family was that of stubbornness and dogged determination. It simply wasn't over until victory had been achieved, whether it too five minutes or five years. If it was the right course of action and it was for the lives of innocents (or your family) that you persisted, then you continued ever onwards.
He had every faith that while it might take Athanasia three times as long to manage certain elements of the events arrangements due to lack of experience or mistakes, he was also entirely confident that she would lose sleep, skip meals and work herself to the bone if it was what was necessary to ensure the event was a success.
A man of few words, however, all of this was conveyed - or not - not through verbal validation or assurance, but a simple hand heavy upon his sister's shoulder and a solemn nod of certainty in her words.
When the conversation turned to suggest a change of clothes, Vangelis looked down at himself but his expression was uncaring. His attire - despite the crown - was not inconvenient for riding and he would be perfectly comfortable. His sister on the other hand... his gaze raked her from head to foot with a quick and assessing glance.
"I am ready to ride, as is." He commented, without hesitation. "But, if you need to change, I shall meet you in the stables..." His tone was firm and finite. Not exactly friendly but not frustrated at the delay either. It was simply a statement of fact without emotion either way. "Bring your bow and we might perhaps catch something."
And with a soft, half curl of his lips, Vangelis left Athanasia there in the corridor, not one to mollycoddle and follow her to her chambers but instantly on his path to the stables, detouring only for a moment to deposit his crown with a trusted guardsman who would return it to the family vault.
By the time Athanasia joined him once more in the stables, Vangelis was securing tack onto his horse, her own mare already suited ready for the ride and moored to an iron hoop in the wall by the stables gateway. His own steed, Phobos - the magnificent, young and wild black stallion - was still unbroken in the stables and reared its head in disapproval at Vangelis' forgoing of him in favour of the older and faithful Windrunner.
"Soon." Vangelis commented to the animal with an assuring nod that Phobos didn't seem to believe.
Whilst the animal was exercised, kept highly cared for and given a life of luxury as the future warhorse of the king, Vangelis was determined to break the animal himself, before he could be ridden. But he did not have the time right now.
Windrunner stood patiently and with a regal elegance that showed up against Phobos' youthful power. Within a few more moments, he had the leather in place and was leading the creature from the stall, smiling at his sister.
"Ready to go?"
Her brother's only reaction to her assertion that she was finally learning to manage a household was a firm hand upon her shoulder and an ambiguous nod. As a young child, she had thought his lack of emotion meant that she had displeased him. Over the years she had learned that it was just his way … one of those things that made him him. She often wondered what kind of thoughts ran through his mind, but his true feelings on any matter was something she could only guess at.
Now she wondered what his gesture meant. Was he proud that she was trying to act as a princess should or was he subtly warning her to continue doing so? There was so much to learn that she was usually mentally exhausted at the end of the day but seeing her ideas brought to life was worth the trouble. All she really had to do was follow Evras' orders, but she did add some suggestions of her own that her sister-in-law had decided to incorporate into the event.
Vangelis wouldn't be interested in such mundane feminine activities and so Athanasia didn't bore him with details. She would only elaborate if he asked and she suspected he would not. No, he wished to ride with her instead, something that they both enjoyed. He claimed he didn't need to change clothes, but by the way he looked her over, he believed that she did and ordered her with a look to go back to her room. And he wanted her to bring her bow so they could do some hunting. The young princess grinned. There was nothing she would rather do.
“Very well. I promise you that I won't be long.” Before she could curtsy to him to show him that she remembered the correct protocol, he was striding away. With a nonchalant shrug, she continued on to her chambers and selected a forest green chiton that she often wore when she went hunting with others. Anthanasia didn't think that Vangelis would approve of the knee-length tunic she wore when riding alone. The color of the chiton would allow her to blend in with the trees and it was fastened invisibly so that the pins wouldn't glint in the sun and scare away her quarry. The metal was cool upon her shoulders.
After instructing one of her maidservants to arrange her hair in one long braid, she strapped a plain brown leather quiver full of arrows to her back. The straps crossed in front, keeping the full folds of her chiton close to her body. Picking up her treasured bow, Athanasia headed to the stables. Her horse was already ready and waiting for her and as she stepped inside, she strode over to the white mare and stroked her long nose while her eyes adjusted to the dimness of the stable's interior. Vang was saddling his own horse and she secured her bow while she waited for him.
“Yes, I'm ready,” she replied, watching him lead his horse from its stall. His other mount … the beautiful black stallion … looked a bit mournful that he had not been chosen. In spite of the grief that never left her, Athanasia chuckled, untying Ambrosia and swinging herself gracefully into the saddle. “Did you know I changed my horse's name?” she asked her brother. “Moonlight didn't really suit her so I'm calling her Ambrosia now. Do you think that horses recognize their names?”
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Her brother's only reaction to her assertion that she was finally learning to manage a household was a firm hand upon her shoulder and an ambiguous nod. As a young child, she had thought his lack of emotion meant that she had displeased him. Over the years she had learned that it was just his way … one of those things that made him him. She often wondered what kind of thoughts ran through his mind, but his true feelings on any matter was something she could only guess at.
Now she wondered what his gesture meant. Was he proud that she was trying to act as a princess should or was he subtly warning her to continue doing so? There was so much to learn that she was usually mentally exhausted at the end of the day but seeing her ideas brought to life was worth the trouble. All she really had to do was follow Evras' orders, but she did add some suggestions of her own that her sister-in-law had decided to incorporate into the event.
Vangelis wouldn't be interested in such mundane feminine activities and so Athanasia didn't bore him with details. She would only elaborate if he asked and she suspected he would not. No, he wished to ride with her instead, something that they both enjoyed. He claimed he didn't need to change clothes, but by the way he looked her over, he believed that she did and ordered her with a look to go back to her room. And he wanted her to bring her bow so they could do some hunting. The young princess grinned. There was nothing she would rather do.
“Very well. I promise you that I won't be long.” Before she could curtsy to him to show him that she remembered the correct protocol, he was striding away. With a nonchalant shrug, she continued on to her chambers and selected a forest green chiton that she often wore when she went hunting with others. Anthanasia didn't think that Vangelis would approve of the knee-length tunic she wore when riding alone. The color of the chiton would allow her to blend in with the trees and it was fastened invisibly so that the pins wouldn't glint in the sun and scare away her quarry. The metal was cool upon her shoulders.
After instructing one of her maidservants to arrange her hair in one long braid, she strapped a plain brown leather quiver full of arrows to her back. The straps crossed in front, keeping the full folds of her chiton close to her body. Picking up her treasured bow, Athanasia headed to the stables. Her horse was already ready and waiting for her and as she stepped inside, she strode over to the white mare and stroked her long nose while her eyes adjusted to the dimness of the stable's interior. Vang was saddling his own horse and she secured her bow while she waited for him.
“Yes, I'm ready,” she replied, watching him lead his horse from its stall. His other mount … the beautiful black stallion … looked a bit mournful that he had not been chosen. In spite of the grief that never left her, Athanasia chuckled, untying Ambrosia and swinging herself gracefully into the saddle. “Did you know I changed my horse's name?” she asked her brother. “Moonlight didn't really suit her so I'm calling her Ambrosia now. Do you think that horses recognize their names?”
Her brother's only reaction to her assertion that she was finally learning to manage a household was a firm hand upon her shoulder and an ambiguous nod. As a young child, she had thought his lack of emotion meant that she had displeased him. Over the years she had learned that it was just his way … one of those things that made him him. She often wondered what kind of thoughts ran through his mind, but his true feelings on any matter was something she could only guess at.
Now she wondered what his gesture meant. Was he proud that she was trying to act as a princess should or was he subtly warning her to continue doing so? There was so much to learn that she was usually mentally exhausted at the end of the day but seeing her ideas brought to life was worth the trouble. All she really had to do was follow Evras' orders, but she did add some suggestions of her own that her sister-in-law had decided to incorporate into the event.
Vangelis wouldn't be interested in such mundane feminine activities and so Athanasia didn't bore him with details. She would only elaborate if he asked and she suspected he would not. No, he wished to ride with her instead, something that they both enjoyed. He claimed he didn't need to change clothes, but by the way he looked her over, he believed that she did and ordered her with a look to go back to her room. And he wanted her to bring her bow so they could do some hunting. The young princess grinned. There was nothing she would rather do.
“Very well. I promise you that I won't be long.” Before she could curtsy to him to show him that she remembered the correct protocol, he was striding away. With a nonchalant shrug, she continued on to her chambers and selected a forest green chiton that she often wore when she went hunting with others. Anthanasia didn't think that Vangelis would approve of the knee-length tunic she wore when riding alone. The color of the chiton would allow her to blend in with the trees and it was fastened invisibly so that the pins wouldn't glint in the sun and scare away her quarry. The metal was cool upon her shoulders.
After instructing one of her maidservants to arrange her hair in one long braid, she strapped a plain brown leather quiver full of arrows to her back. The straps crossed in front, keeping the full folds of her chiton close to her body. Picking up her treasured bow, Athanasia headed to the stables. Her horse was already ready and waiting for her and as she stepped inside, she strode over to the white mare and stroked her long nose while her eyes adjusted to the dimness of the stable's interior. Vang was saddling his own horse and she secured her bow while she waited for him.
“Yes, I'm ready,” she replied, watching him lead his horse from its stall. His other mount … the beautiful black stallion … looked a bit mournful that he had not been chosen. In spite of the grief that never left her, Athanasia chuckled, untying Ambrosia and swinging herself gracefully into the saddle. “Did you know I changed my horse's name?” she asked her brother. “Moonlight didn't really suit her so I'm calling her Ambrosia now. Do you think that horses recognize their names?”
When his sister reappeared, Vangelis watched her entrance to the stables with a gaze that was softer than his normal. This girl was, whether she realised it or not, the central weak spot for the entire Kotas family. Alongside her mother, Athanasia was the only female element of a household of men bred and raised to believe in the protection and care of those who were weaker than themselves: be that their populace and people, their country as a whole, or the females in their family and whom they cared for.
It was not a derogatory belief that women deserved and needed to be protected. For, in their physical condition, they were less powerful and strong than their male counterparts. Wiser and more skilled in the raising of families, it was the Grecian belief that women were to care for the family unit's internal dynamics, health and education, and it was a man's duty to ensure that such a unit was protected from external threats. Two sides of a coin that worked to protect the generations that followed them.
And without wife or children, Athanasia was the single element, beyond his own mother, that Vangelis felt the most protective of.
Even as she stood in the doorway of the stables with her bow over one shoulder, her chiton cut in a way that would allow her to ride astride her horse and her hair pulled back so that it would not impede her physical tasks over the next few hours, Vangelis struggled to witness her as the capable huntress she had become without also viewing said woman with a lens of tenderness that he could not shift.
Avoiding saying anything that might insult her in its tendency to be protective, Vangelis simply mounted Windrunner and answered the query she posed him as she did the same upon the newly dubbed Ambrosia.
"I think that they do." Vangelis answered in all truth, the corner of his mouth curling up at one side as he continued in jest - "...provided that don't keep getting their names changed."
With a challenging gleam to his eye, Vangelis followed such a tease by kicking his horse into a hurried speed, shooting out from the stables, across the courtyard, around the paddock and into the Kotas lands beyond that would lead to a small area of forestry on the other side of the mountainous outcroppings. He turned in his saddle, as Windrunner stretched his legs in a strong gallop that ate up the distance, his eyes watching for Athanasia, expecting her to be not so far behind him now that she had started to face her fears of riding and become a confident horse mistress.
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When his sister reappeared, Vangelis watched her entrance to the stables with a gaze that was softer than his normal. This girl was, whether she realised it or not, the central weak spot for the entire Kotas family. Alongside her mother, Athanasia was the only female element of a household of men bred and raised to believe in the protection and care of those who were weaker than themselves: be that their populace and people, their country as a whole, or the females in their family and whom they cared for.
It was not a derogatory belief that women deserved and needed to be protected. For, in their physical condition, they were less powerful and strong than their male counterparts. Wiser and more skilled in the raising of families, it was the Grecian belief that women were to care for the family unit's internal dynamics, health and education, and it was a man's duty to ensure that such a unit was protected from external threats. Two sides of a coin that worked to protect the generations that followed them.
And without wife or children, Athanasia was the single element, beyond his own mother, that Vangelis felt the most protective of.
Even as she stood in the doorway of the stables with her bow over one shoulder, her chiton cut in a way that would allow her to ride astride her horse and her hair pulled back so that it would not impede her physical tasks over the next few hours, Vangelis struggled to witness her as the capable huntress she had become without also viewing said woman with a lens of tenderness that he could not shift.
Avoiding saying anything that might insult her in its tendency to be protective, Vangelis simply mounted Windrunner and answered the query she posed him as she did the same upon the newly dubbed Ambrosia.
"I think that they do." Vangelis answered in all truth, the corner of his mouth curling up at one side as he continued in jest - "...provided that don't keep getting their names changed."
With a challenging gleam to his eye, Vangelis followed such a tease by kicking his horse into a hurried speed, shooting out from the stables, across the courtyard, around the paddock and into the Kotas lands beyond that would lead to a small area of forestry on the other side of the mountainous outcroppings. He turned in his saddle, as Windrunner stretched his legs in a strong gallop that ate up the distance, his eyes watching for Athanasia, expecting her to be not so far behind him now that she had started to face her fears of riding and become a confident horse mistress.
When his sister reappeared, Vangelis watched her entrance to the stables with a gaze that was softer than his normal. This girl was, whether she realised it or not, the central weak spot for the entire Kotas family. Alongside her mother, Athanasia was the only female element of a household of men bred and raised to believe in the protection and care of those who were weaker than themselves: be that their populace and people, their country as a whole, or the females in their family and whom they cared for.
It was not a derogatory belief that women deserved and needed to be protected. For, in their physical condition, they were less powerful and strong than their male counterparts. Wiser and more skilled in the raising of families, it was the Grecian belief that women were to care for the family unit's internal dynamics, health and education, and it was a man's duty to ensure that such a unit was protected from external threats. Two sides of a coin that worked to protect the generations that followed them.
And without wife or children, Athanasia was the single element, beyond his own mother, that Vangelis felt the most protective of.
Even as she stood in the doorway of the stables with her bow over one shoulder, her chiton cut in a way that would allow her to ride astride her horse and her hair pulled back so that it would not impede her physical tasks over the next few hours, Vangelis struggled to witness her as the capable huntress she had become without also viewing said woman with a lens of tenderness that he could not shift.
Avoiding saying anything that might insult her in its tendency to be protective, Vangelis simply mounted Windrunner and answered the query she posed him as she did the same upon the newly dubbed Ambrosia.
"I think that they do." Vangelis answered in all truth, the corner of his mouth curling up at one side as he continued in jest - "...provided that don't keep getting their names changed."
With a challenging gleam to his eye, Vangelis followed such a tease by kicking his horse into a hurried speed, shooting out from the stables, across the courtyard, around the paddock and into the Kotas lands beyond that would lead to a small area of forestry on the other side of the mountainous outcroppings. He turned in his saddle, as Windrunner stretched his legs in a strong gallop that ate up the distance, his eyes watching for Athanasia, expecting her to be not so far behind him now that she had started to face her fears of riding and become a confident horse mistress.
Even in the dimness of the stables, Athanasia noticed her brother's soft gaze. His expression remained as stoic as ever, but eyes never lied. She knew Vangelis was fond of her in his own way, and that conversation they'd had on the ship about Lord Silanos had proved how protective he was of her. To kill a man who kissed your sister seemed a bit extreme, but she appreciated his concern for her. She was the only sister he had, and he was determined to keep her safe.
Vangelis wasn't nearly as demonstrative or as smothering as her parents, but she knew he would never let any harm come to her. While she didn't consider herself weak at all and could hold her own in a fight whether with a bow, with her throwing knives, or with her fists, it was nice to know that her brothers would come to her defense if she ever got into trouble she wasn't able to get out of. Not that she thought that would ever happen.
Of all her siblings, Vangelis was the one she understood the least. He had been gone a lot when she was a child, and she had never gotten to know him the way she had Zanon, Yiannis, and Silas. A death in the family always seemed to draw people together, and this ride was an opportunity to become closer to her eldest sibling, to speak to him informally and perhaps learn more about him.
Was that the beginnings of a smile on his face or was it just a trick of the light flowing through the door? Athanasia had always wanted to get him to smile at her. Maybe today he would. “Don't worry,” she said as she watched him mount. She knew he was teasing her but she felt the need to reassure him anyway. “I'm not going to change her name again. Lady Selene only gave her to me a few months ago and I was in Tanegea all of last month. I doubt she even knew her name was Moonlight. But I'll make sure she knows she is now called Ambrosia.”
She had expected them to ride out of the stables at a companionable pace, but he spurred his horse into a gallop and she did the same, determined to keep up with him. The young princess could never resist a challenge and she was more confident on the back of a horse than she used to be. She had ridden a lot in Taengea and Lady Selene had helped her to improve her skills. Her wariness of equines had not completely disappeared, but she no longer feared them. If Ambrosia spooked and reared, she believed that she would be able to keep control of the mare as well as maintain her seat. She would not fall off and break her arm again.
When Vangelis looked back, Athanasia grinned at him and urged the white horse to gallop faster as they headed toward the forest. Ambrosia had not had much exercise while her mistress was away, and she must be glad to run again. The princess gripped the reins tighter as she came up beside Vangelis. “Catch me if you can!” she shouted, her laughter echoing in the air as she passed him, her long braid bouncing behind her.
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Posted In Making Amends on Dec 30, 2019 20:02:04 GMT
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Even in the dimness of the stables, Athanasia noticed her brother's soft gaze. His expression remained as stoic as ever, but eyes never lied. She knew Vangelis was fond of her in his own way, and that conversation they'd had on the ship about Lord Silanos had proved how protective he was of her. To kill a man who kissed your sister seemed a bit extreme, but she appreciated his concern for her. She was the only sister he had, and he was determined to keep her safe.
Vangelis wasn't nearly as demonstrative or as smothering as her parents, but she knew he would never let any harm come to her. While she didn't consider herself weak at all and could hold her own in a fight whether with a bow, with her throwing knives, or with her fists, it was nice to know that her brothers would come to her defense if she ever got into trouble she wasn't able to get out of. Not that she thought that would ever happen.
Of all her siblings, Vangelis was the one she understood the least. He had been gone a lot when she was a child, and she had never gotten to know him the way she had Zanon, Yiannis, and Silas. A death in the family always seemed to draw people together, and this ride was an opportunity to become closer to her eldest sibling, to speak to him informally and perhaps learn more about him.
Was that the beginnings of a smile on his face or was it just a trick of the light flowing through the door? Athanasia had always wanted to get him to smile at her. Maybe today he would. “Don't worry,” she said as she watched him mount. She knew he was teasing her but she felt the need to reassure him anyway. “I'm not going to change her name again. Lady Selene only gave her to me a few months ago and I was in Tanegea all of last month. I doubt she even knew her name was Moonlight. But I'll make sure she knows she is now called Ambrosia.”
She had expected them to ride out of the stables at a companionable pace, but he spurred his horse into a gallop and she did the same, determined to keep up with him. The young princess could never resist a challenge and she was more confident on the back of a horse than she used to be. She had ridden a lot in Taengea and Lady Selene had helped her to improve her skills. Her wariness of equines had not completely disappeared, but she no longer feared them. If Ambrosia spooked and reared, she believed that she would be able to keep control of the mare as well as maintain her seat. She would not fall off and break her arm again.
When Vangelis looked back, Athanasia grinned at him and urged the white horse to gallop faster as they headed toward the forest. Ambrosia had not had much exercise while her mistress was away, and she must be glad to run again. The princess gripped the reins tighter as she came up beside Vangelis. “Catch me if you can!” she shouted, her laughter echoing in the air as she passed him, her long braid bouncing behind her.
Even in the dimness of the stables, Athanasia noticed her brother's soft gaze. His expression remained as stoic as ever, but eyes never lied. She knew Vangelis was fond of her in his own way, and that conversation they'd had on the ship about Lord Silanos had proved how protective he was of her. To kill a man who kissed your sister seemed a bit extreme, but she appreciated his concern for her. She was the only sister he had, and he was determined to keep her safe.
Vangelis wasn't nearly as demonstrative or as smothering as her parents, but she knew he would never let any harm come to her. While she didn't consider herself weak at all and could hold her own in a fight whether with a bow, with her throwing knives, or with her fists, it was nice to know that her brothers would come to her defense if she ever got into trouble she wasn't able to get out of. Not that she thought that would ever happen.
Of all her siblings, Vangelis was the one she understood the least. He had been gone a lot when she was a child, and she had never gotten to know him the way she had Zanon, Yiannis, and Silas. A death in the family always seemed to draw people together, and this ride was an opportunity to become closer to her eldest sibling, to speak to him informally and perhaps learn more about him.
Was that the beginnings of a smile on his face or was it just a trick of the light flowing through the door? Athanasia had always wanted to get him to smile at her. Maybe today he would. “Don't worry,” she said as she watched him mount. She knew he was teasing her but she felt the need to reassure him anyway. “I'm not going to change her name again. Lady Selene only gave her to me a few months ago and I was in Tanegea all of last month. I doubt she even knew her name was Moonlight. But I'll make sure she knows she is now called Ambrosia.”
She had expected them to ride out of the stables at a companionable pace, but he spurred his horse into a gallop and she did the same, determined to keep up with him. The young princess could never resist a challenge and she was more confident on the back of a horse than she used to be. She had ridden a lot in Taengea and Lady Selene had helped her to improve her skills. Her wariness of equines had not completely disappeared, but she no longer feared them. If Ambrosia spooked and reared, she believed that she would be able to keep control of the mare as well as maintain her seat. She would not fall off and break her arm again.
When Vangelis looked back, Athanasia grinned at him and urged the white horse to gallop faster as they headed toward the forest. Ambrosia had not had much exercise while her mistress was away, and she must be glad to run again. The princess gripped the reins tighter as she came up beside Vangelis. “Catch me if you can!” she shouted, her laughter echoing in the air as she passed him, her long braid bouncing behind her.
Vangelis was pleased that his intention was coming to fruition. Knowing that his sister held just as much determination and challenge within her, he had had the suspicion that daring her to ride as he did would encourage her to a galloping pace - one she had rarely taken on before, due to fear.
Hearing from Selene that his sister had a fear of riding had been a surprise to Vangelis. And it had been a credit to Asia's dignity and defiance that he had never noticed that she had avoided riding whenever he was home and (probably) whilst he was away. He had immediately sought to correct it though had had no time to do it personally. Riding a horse was so integral to the world in which they lived and so expected for those of their station that Athanasia could not afford to be less the skill. Not to mention the fact that Kotas were famed for fearing nothing. He did not wish for her to suffer being the only one known for being fearful of an animal so common in the lives of their people.
And so, instead of riding out of the stables casually, Vangelis had immediately kicked Windrunner into high speeds, his look over his shoulder a dare for her to challenge him in her own way, the fear of riding not permitted within their bubble of sibling affection and fun. When she followed exactly as he had hoped and rode faster, Vangelis was careful to ensure that he slowed in a way that she would not notice, allowing her to pass him with her mare and continuing forwards, reversing the temptation back upon him.
With her call to catch her if he could, Vangelis kicked his mount harder and faster, Windrunner obeying at the slightest of touches from his knees and sandals and kicking up small pieces of grass behind them as he dove after the young mare.
Though Asia's ride had youth on her side, Windrunner had male genes and a dominance of size, his stride so much longer than Ambrosia's and able to catch up easily enough. Vangelis rode him carefully ride beside Athanasia, before letting go over the reins with one hand and reaching out.
The length of his arm ensured that he could dance his fingertips upon the top of Athanasia's head before he zipped passed her, finally reaching the edge of the forest and drawing Windrunner to a sharp and skidding slow before he headed out into the woods.
Whilst he would race Athanasia over open fields, he would not encourage her to take woodland at high speeds. There were far too many opportunities for the animals to misstep or stumble and whilst he was confident of his ability to get out of the way should his horse fall beneath him, he was no so of Athanasia's.
Instead, he took the calm and quiet of the forest as the opportunity to walk with the animals, wind between and around trees, his gaze darting out to Asia's every half minute or so, unsure how to speak with her, or at least open the gates to discussions that she might wish to have.
"Do you wish to talk about it...?" He asked her, his tendency for the truth surpassing his concerns for subtlety. "About father?" He knew that it had been hard on his own mind and emotions to lose his patriarch and take his role within the kingdom. He had no idea what it was like for a young woman to lose her father...
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Posted In Making Amends on Jan 11, 2020 12:49:36 GMT
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Vangelis was pleased that his intention was coming to fruition. Knowing that his sister held just as much determination and challenge within her, he had had the suspicion that daring her to ride as he did would encourage her to a galloping pace - one she had rarely taken on before, due to fear.
Hearing from Selene that his sister had a fear of riding had been a surprise to Vangelis. And it had been a credit to Asia's dignity and defiance that he had never noticed that she had avoided riding whenever he was home and (probably) whilst he was away. He had immediately sought to correct it though had had no time to do it personally. Riding a horse was so integral to the world in which they lived and so expected for those of their station that Athanasia could not afford to be less the skill. Not to mention the fact that Kotas were famed for fearing nothing. He did not wish for her to suffer being the only one known for being fearful of an animal so common in the lives of their people.
And so, instead of riding out of the stables casually, Vangelis had immediately kicked Windrunner into high speeds, his look over his shoulder a dare for her to challenge him in her own way, the fear of riding not permitted within their bubble of sibling affection and fun. When she followed exactly as he had hoped and rode faster, Vangelis was careful to ensure that he slowed in a way that she would not notice, allowing her to pass him with her mare and continuing forwards, reversing the temptation back upon him.
With her call to catch her if he could, Vangelis kicked his mount harder and faster, Windrunner obeying at the slightest of touches from his knees and sandals and kicking up small pieces of grass behind them as he dove after the young mare.
Though Asia's ride had youth on her side, Windrunner had male genes and a dominance of size, his stride so much longer than Ambrosia's and able to catch up easily enough. Vangelis rode him carefully ride beside Athanasia, before letting go over the reins with one hand and reaching out.
The length of his arm ensured that he could dance his fingertips upon the top of Athanasia's head before he zipped passed her, finally reaching the edge of the forest and drawing Windrunner to a sharp and skidding slow before he headed out into the woods.
Whilst he would race Athanasia over open fields, he would not encourage her to take woodland at high speeds. There were far too many opportunities for the animals to misstep or stumble and whilst he was confident of his ability to get out of the way should his horse fall beneath him, he was no so of Athanasia's.
Instead, he took the calm and quiet of the forest as the opportunity to walk with the animals, wind between and around trees, his gaze darting out to Asia's every half minute or so, unsure how to speak with her, or at least open the gates to discussions that she might wish to have.
"Do you wish to talk about it...?" He asked her, his tendency for the truth surpassing his concerns for subtlety. "About father?" He knew that it had been hard on his own mind and emotions to lose his patriarch and take his role within the kingdom. He had no idea what it was like for a young woman to lose her father...
Vangelis was pleased that his intention was coming to fruition. Knowing that his sister held just as much determination and challenge within her, he had had the suspicion that daring her to ride as he did would encourage her to a galloping pace - one she had rarely taken on before, due to fear.
Hearing from Selene that his sister had a fear of riding had been a surprise to Vangelis. And it had been a credit to Asia's dignity and defiance that he had never noticed that she had avoided riding whenever he was home and (probably) whilst he was away. He had immediately sought to correct it though had had no time to do it personally. Riding a horse was so integral to the world in which they lived and so expected for those of their station that Athanasia could not afford to be less the skill. Not to mention the fact that Kotas were famed for fearing nothing. He did not wish for her to suffer being the only one known for being fearful of an animal so common in the lives of their people.
And so, instead of riding out of the stables casually, Vangelis had immediately kicked Windrunner into high speeds, his look over his shoulder a dare for her to challenge him in her own way, the fear of riding not permitted within their bubble of sibling affection and fun. When she followed exactly as he had hoped and rode faster, Vangelis was careful to ensure that he slowed in a way that she would not notice, allowing her to pass him with her mare and continuing forwards, reversing the temptation back upon him.
With her call to catch her if he could, Vangelis kicked his mount harder and faster, Windrunner obeying at the slightest of touches from his knees and sandals and kicking up small pieces of grass behind them as he dove after the young mare.
Though Asia's ride had youth on her side, Windrunner had male genes and a dominance of size, his stride so much longer than Ambrosia's and able to catch up easily enough. Vangelis rode him carefully ride beside Athanasia, before letting go over the reins with one hand and reaching out.
The length of his arm ensured that he could dance his fingertips upon the top of Athanasia's head before he zipped passed her, finally reaching the edge of the forest and drawing Windrunner to a sharp and skidding slow before he headed out into the woods.
Whilst he would race Athanasia over open fields, he would not encourage her to take woodland at high speeds. There were far too many opportunities for the animals to misstep or stumble and whilst he was confident of his ability to get out of the way should his horse fall beneath him, he was no so of Athanasia's.
Instead, he took the calm and quiet of the forest as the opportunity to walk with the animals, wind between and around trees, his gaze darting out to Asia's every half minute or so, unsure how to speak with her, or at least open the gates to discussions that she might wish to have.
"Do you wish to talk about it...?" He asked her, his tendency for the truth surpassing his concerns for subtlety. "About father?" He knew that it had been hard on his own mind and emotions to lose his patriarch and take his role within the kingdom. He had no idea what it was like for a young woman to lose her father...
Athanasia’s confidence in her riding ability had improved dramatically after her lessons with Lady Selene. She had also ridden quite often in Taengea on borrowed horses with temperaments that were different than her own beloved mare. Even during that tense argument with Imeeya, she had managed to keep her seat and had calmed her mount when it sensed her agitation. She was still wary of equines, but it was a healthy kind of wariness. Like all animals, horses were unpredictable and at any moment, one could lose control. Keeping that in mind was wise, especially when one was not that experienced.
Riding also gave her more freedom than traveling in a carriage. She used to walk when she went in the forests at night to hunt, but she could go further on a horse to areas that were not as popular and had more game. It was also calming just to go on a ride when she was feeling anxious, which was one of the reasons that she had been planning to ride this evening. Athanasia had a lot of grief to work through and like all members of the Kotas family as well as Colchians in general, she preferred not to show weakness in front of other people.
Hunting with Vangelis was just what she needed to take her mind from her pain. Perhaps he needed a respite from his own life as well. Their father’s crown must weigh heavily upon his head, not as much literally as figuratively. They both needed this, and she grinned at him as she passed him, keeping a tight hold on Ambrosia’s reins. She had no idea that he had slowed so that she would be able to pull ahead of him. If so, she would have been miffed but not infuriated. It was impossible to be angry at her eldest brother, and she certainly didn’t want to add an irritated sister to his long list of concerns.
Her heart pounded rapidly in her chest as she left him behind. Still a bit unsure on the back of a horse, she concentrated on keeping control of Ambrosia instead of looking back to see if Vang was gaining on her. The wind whipping against her face and whisking her braid behind her made it impossible to hear anything but the mare’s heavy breathing mingled with her own. Athanasia didn’t fool herself into believing that he wouldn’t catch her. He had been riding since before she was born and he was a veteran of many battles which had been waged on horseback. His skills were far superior to hers but she would enjoy her advantage while she had it.
She felt rather than saw Vangelis come up beside her, a bit too close for comfort. Yet when his fingers fluttered upon the top of her head, she turned her head and grinned at him just before he flew past her. Of course he wouldn’t let her win and he knew that she would not be happy if he did. One day, I’ll be faster than he is, she vowed, after I’ve had more time to practice. Athanasia didn’t mind at all that he won their race. His mind, and her own, had been distracted from their troubles and she was glad to give him a semblance of tranquility. He didn’t have to be King with her, just her big brother.
Though he skidded to a halt when they reached the woods, Athanasia brought Ambrosia slowly to a stately pace, afraid that if she imitated him just to show how daring she was, the horse might throw her. She followed Vang’s lead as he lead them at a walk through the forest. The young princess liked the way the moonlight suffused the trees and bushes with a silvery glow. She breathed deeply of the fragrant air, unaware that her brother was stealing glances at her.
When he spoke, she turned toward him and sighed, her smile fading from her face. Athanasia appreciated his candor, a trait she shared with him, as well as his consideration of her feelings when he was facing a much more difficult time than she. “I still can’t believe he’s gone,” she said softly. “Whenever I step into a room he often frequented, I expect to find him there, and then I remember that I’ll never see him again.
“The worst part is not being able to show him how much I appreciate him. When I saw the disappointment in the eyes of King Stephanos and Queen Olympia when they looked at their little daughter, I realized how lucky I was to have parents who cherish me because I’m a girl. I promised that I wouldn’t balk at the way he doted on me anymore and I would try to be the daughter he wanted me to be.”
An errant tear slipped from her eye and meandered down her cheek. “But now he’ll never know how much I love him and how hard I’m trying to change.”
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Feb 26, 2020 20:02:17 GMT
Posted In Making Amends on Feb 26, 2020 20:02:17 GMT
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Athanasia’s confidence in her riding ability had improved dramatically after her lessons with Lady Selene. She had also ridden quite often in Taengea on borrowed horses with temperaments that were different than her own beloved mare. Even during that tense argument with Imeeya, she had managed to keep her seat and had calmed her mount when it sensed her agitation. She was still wary of equines, but it was a healthy kind of wariness. Like all animals, horses were unpredictable and at any moment, one could lose control. Keeping that in mind was wise, especially when one was not that experienced.
Riding also gave her more freedom than traveling in a carriage. She used to walk when she went in the forests at night to hunt, but she could go further on a horse to areas that were not as popular and had more game. It was also calming just to go on a ride when she was feeling anxious, which was one of the reasons that she had been planning to ride this evening. Athanasia had a lot of grief to work through and like all members of the Kotas family as well as Colchians in general, she preferred not to show weakness in front of other people.
Hunting with Vangelis was just what she needed to take her mind from her pain. Perhaps he needed a respite from his own life as well. Their father’s crown must weigh heavily upon his head, not as much literally as figuratively. They both needed this, and she grinned at him as she passed him, keeping a tight hold on Ambrosia’s reins. She had no idea that he had slowed so that she would be able to pull ahead of him. If so, she would have been miffed but not infuriated. It was impossible to be angry at her eldest brother, and she certainly didn’t want to add an irritated sister to his long list of concerns.
Her heart pounded rapidly in her chest as she left him behind. Still a bit unsure on the back of a horse, she concentrated on keeping control of Ambrosia instead of looking back to see if Vang was gaining on her. The wind whipping against her face and whisking her braid behind her made it impossible to hear anything but the mare’s heavy breathing mingled with her own. Athanasia didn’t fool herself into believing that he wouldn’t catch her. He had been riding since before she was born and he was a veteran of many battles which had been waged on horseback. His skills were far superior to hers but she would enjoy her advantage while she had it.
She felt rather than saw Vangelis come up beside her, a bit too close for comfort. Yet when his fingers fluttered upon the top of her head, she turned her head and grinned at him just before he flew past her. Of course he wouldn’t let her win and he knew that she would not be happy if he did. One day, I’ll be faster than he is, she vowed, after I’ve had more time to practice. Athanasia didn’t mind at all that he won their race. His mind, and her own, had been distracted from their troubles and she was glad to give him a semblance of tranquility. He didn’t have to be King with her, just her big brother.
Though he skidded to a halt when they reached the woods, Athanasia brought Ambrosia slowly to a stately pace, afraid that if she imitated him just to show how daring she was, the horse might throw her. She followed Vang’s lead as he lead them at a walk through the forest. The young princess liked the way the moonlight suffused the trees and bushes with a silvery glow. She breathed deeply of the fragrant air, unaware that her brother was stealing glances at her.
When he spoke, she turned toward him and sighed, her smile fading from her face. Athanasia appreciated his candor, a trait she shared with him, as well as his consideration of her feelings when he was facing a much more difficult time than she. “I still can’t believe he’s gone,” she said softly. “Whenever I step into a room he often frequented, I expect to find him there, and then I remember that I’ll never see him again.
“The worst part is not being able to show him how much I appreciate him. When I saw the disappointment in the eyes of King Stephanos and Queen Olympia when they looked at their little daughter, I realized how lucky I was to have parents who cherish me because I’m a girl. I promised that I wouldn’t balk at the way he doted on me anymore and I would try to be the daughter he wanted me to be.”
An errant tear slipped from her eye and meandered down her cheek. “But now he’ll never know how much I love him and how hard I’m trying to change.”
Athanasia’s confidence in her riding ability had improved dramatically after her lessons with Lady Selene. She had also ridden quite often in Taengea on borrowed horses with temperaments that were different than her own beloved mare. Even during that tense argument with Imeeya, she had managed to keep her seat and had calmed her mount when it sensed her agitation. She was still wary of equines, but it was a healthy kind of wariness. Like all animals, horses were unpredictable and at any moment, one could lose control. Keeping that in mind was wise, especially when one was not that experienced.
Riding also gave her more freedom than traveling in a carriage. She used to walk when she went in the forests at night to hunt, but she could go further on a horse to areas that were not as popular and had more game. It was also calming just to go on a ride when she was feeling anxious, which was one of the reasons that she had been planning to ride this evening. Athanasia had a lot of grief to work through and like all members of the Kotas family as well as Colchians in general, she preferred not to show weakness in front of other people.
Hunting with Vangelis was just what she needed to take her mind from her pain. Perhaps he needed a respite from his own life as well. Their father’s crown must weigh heavily upon his head, not as much literally as figuratively. They both needed this, and she grinned at him as she passed him, keeping a tight hold on Ambrosia’s reins. She had no idea that he had slowed so that she would be able to pull ahead of him. If so, she would have been miffed but not infuriated. It was impossible to be angry at her eldest brother, and she certainly didn’t want to add an irritated sister to his long list of concerns.
Her heart pounded rapidly in her chest as she left him behind. Still a bit unsure on the back of a horse, she concentrated on keeping control of Ambrosia instead of looking back to see if Vang was gaining on her. The wind whipping against her face and whisking her braid behind her made it impossible to hear anything but the mare’s heavy breathing mingled with her own. Athanasia didn’t fool herself into believing that he wouldn’t catch her. He had been riding since before she was born and he was a veteran of many battles which had been waged on horseback. His skills were far superior to hers but she would enjoy her advantage while she had it.
She felt rather than saw Vangelis come up beside her, a bit too close for comfort. Yet when his fingers fluttered upon the top of her head, she turned her head and grinned at him just before he flew past her. Of course he wouldn’t let her win and he knew that she would not be happy if he did. One day, I’ll be faster than he is, she vowed, after I’ve had more time to practice. Athanasia didn’t mind at all that he won their race. His mind, and her own, had been distracted from their troubles and she was glad to give him a semblance of tranquility. He didn’t have to be King with her, just her big brother.
Though he skidded to a halt when they reached the woods, Athanasia brought Ambrosia slowly to a stately pace, afraid that if she imitated him just to show how daring she was, the horse might throw her. She followed Vang’s lead as he lead them at a walk through the forest. The young princess liked the way the moonlight suffused the trees and bushes with a silvery glow. She breathed deeply of the fragrant air, unaware that her brother was stealing glances at her.
When he spoke, she turned toward him and sighed, her smile fading from her face. Athanasia appreciated his candor, a trait she shared with him, as well as his consideration of her feelings when he was facing a much more difficult time than she. “I still can’t believe he’s gone,” she said softly. “Whenever I step into a room he often frequented, I expect to find him there, and then I remember that I’ll never see him again.
“The worst part is not being able to show him how much I appreciate him. When I saw the disappointment in the eyes of King Stephanos and Queen Olympia when they looked at their little daughter, I realized how lucky I was to have parents who cherish me because I’m a girl. I promised that I wouldn’t balk at the way he doted on me anymore and I would try to be the daughter he wanted me to be.”
An errant tear slipped from her eye and meandered down her cheek. “But now he’ll never know how much I love him and how hard I’m trying to change.”
Kotas didn't show weakness. They were power, they were strength. They were the might behind the crown and behind Colchis as a whole. The protectors and defenders of the Kirakles islands and the epitome of royal decorum and dignity to boot. Their honour and their pride were second to none and they didn't not give in or yield to fears or susceptibilities. That was how the children of Kotas were raised and what they believed to be important.
And yet... above all else... Blood came first. Family came first.
So, when Athanasia spoke of their father, answering Vangelis was a sentimentality and emotional side of herself that was incredibly real despite its weaknesses, Vangelis said nothing. He neither chided nor judged and he didn't reprimand her for being open about her feelings. Instead, he had ensured that this conversation was conducted on private land, within the trees, where no-one by he could play witness to her emotions.
When she spoke of entering a room and expecting to see their father there, Vangelis couldn't help but agree. He felt it every single time he ended the study that had been their father's and was now the domain of his own work as monarch. Whilst King Tython had so rarely been home during his war campaigns and his tenure as king, his presence had been one that had imposed memories and adoring security in the hearts and minds of his children. He hadn't needed to be there every day for them to think of him as present at all times.
As Athanasia mentioned the disappointment with which Stephanos and Olympia looked to their new daughter, he felt his brows rise a little towards his hairline, his steed coming to a closing stop and Athanasia's mare naturally falling into step directly beside it. He watched his sister, the concept that she would witness her own birth in that of Stephanos' offspring an entirely new and foreign concept to him. Athanasia had always been a loved and doted upon part of the family. He had never even considered the possibility for her to be disliked by their parents for her gender. Then again, the situation was entirely different when you were following four healthy male heirs.
It didn't stop the associations in her mind though, clearly. Nor the hurt she now felt over the loss of their father.
Reaching out, Vangelis had to only witness the first tear that dripped from beneath Asia's lashes and rolled down her cheek before he was drawing her close, across the gap between their animals and encouraging her to lean into his frame, her face to his chest. Not one for emotional support most of the time, Vangelis simply curled an arm around her, supported her head with his hand and reached out to take her reins in the other, keeping their horses still so that she might lean on him... and simply weep.
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Kotas didn't show weakness. They were power, they were strength. They were the might behind the crown and behind Colchis as a whole. The protectors and defenders of the Kirakles islands and the epitome of royal decorum and dignity to boot. Their honour and their pride were second to none and they didn't not give in or yield to fears or susceptibilities. That was how the children of Kotas were raised and what they believed to be important.
And yet... above all else... Blood came first. Family came first.
So, when Athanasia spoke of their father, answering Vangelis was a sentimentality and emotional side of herself that was incredibly real despite its weaknesses, Vangelis said nothing. He neither chided nor judged and he didn't reprimand her for being open about her feelings. Instead, he had ensured that this conversation was conducted on private land, within the trees, where no-one by he could play witness to her emotions.
When she spoke of entering a room and expecting to see their father there, Vangelis couldn't help but agree. He felt it every single time he ended the study that had been their father's and was now the domain of his own work as monarch. Whilst King Tython had so rarely been home during his war campaigns and his tenure as king, his presence had been one that had imposed memories and adoring security in the hearts and minds of his children. He hadn't needed to be there every day for them to think of him as present at all times.
As Athanasia mentioned the disappointment with which Stephanos and Olympia looked to their new daughter, he felt his brows rise a little towards his hairline, his steed coming to a closing stop and Athanasia's mare naturally falling into step directly beside it. He watched his sister, the concept that she would witness her own birth in that of Stephanos' offspring an entirely new and foreign concept to him. Athanasia had always been a loved and doted upon part of the family. He had never even considered the possibility for her to be disliked by their parents for her gender. Then again, the situation was entirely different when you were following four healthy male heirs.
It didn't stop the associations in her mind though, clearly. Nor the hurt she now felt over the loss of their father.
Reaching out, Vangelis had to only witness the first tear that dripped from beneath Asia's lashes and rolled down her cheek before he was drawing her close, across the gap between their animals and encouraging her to lean into his frame, her face to his chest. Not one for emotional support most of the time, Vangelis simply curled an arm around her, supported her head with his hand and reached out to take her reins in the other, keeping their horses still so that she might lean on him... and simply weep.
Kotas didn't show weakness. They were power, they were strength. They were the might behind the crown and behind Colchis as a whole. The protectors and defenders of the Kirakles islands and the epitome of royal decorum and dignity to boot. Their honour and their pride were second to none and they didn't not give in or yield to fears or susceptibilities. That was how the children of Kotas were raised and what they believed to be important.
And yet... above all else... Blood came first. Family came first.
So, when Athanasia spoke of their father, answering Vangelis was a sentimentality and emotional side of herself that was incredibly real despite its weaknesses, Vangelis said nothing. He neither chided nor judged and he didn't reprimand her for being open about her feelings. Instead, he had ensured that this conversation was conducted on private land, within the trees, where no-one by he could play witness to her emotions.
When she spoke of entering a room and expecting to see their father there, Vangelis couldn't help but agree. He felt it every single time he ended the study that had been their father's and was now the domain of his own work as monarch. Whilst King Tython had so rarely been home during his war campaigns and his tenure as king, his presence had been one that had imposed memories and adoring security in the hearts and minds of his children. He hadn't needed to be there every day for them to think of him as present at all times.
As Athanasia mentioned the disappointment with which Stephanos and Olympia looked to their new daughter, he felt his brows rise a little towards his hairline, his steed coming to a closing stop and Athanasia's mare naturally falling into step directly beside it. He watched his sister, the concept that she would witness her own birth in that of Stephanos' offspring an entirely new and foreign concept to him. Athanasia had always been a loved and doted upon part of the family. He had never even considered the possibility for her to be disliked by their parents for her gender. Then again, the situation was entirely different when you were following four healthy male heirs.
It didn't stop the associations in her mind though, clearly. Nor the hurt she now felt over the loss of their father.
Reaching out, Vangelis had to only witness the first tear that dripped from beneath Asia's lashes and rolled down her cheek before he was drawing her close, across the gap between their animals and encouraging her to lean into his frame, her face to his chest. Not one for emotional support most of the time, Vangelis simply curled an arm around her, supported her head with his hand and reached out to take her reins in the other, keeping their horses still so that she might lean on him... and simply weep.
Athanasia prided herself on being as stoic as her brothers, never showing weakness or vulnerability in true Kotas fashion. She had kept the mood swings in check that had accompanied the transition from girlhood to womanhood and had learned early in her life to hide strong emotion. It was that unwavering strength of character that had kept prospective suitors at bay. She smiled and laughed with friends. There was nothing weak about enjoying oneself in good company.
But crying … that was inexcusable and the reason she had holed herself up in her room. She still hated herself for not being able to stop the tears that soaked her pillow and reddened her eyes, but at least nobody had seen or heard. Her father’s untimely demise had devastated her. It was her first experience with death, and because it had been a member of her immediate family, the ordeal was nearly impossible to deal with.
Even now, as she told Vangelis how difficult the last three days had been, she berated herself for her lack of control over her feelings. But he had asked and it all came pouring out of her … disbelief, the pain, and the regret. Athanasia had wanted to apologize to her eldest brother for her selfishness in thinking only of herself and not to him. And here she was burdening him with problems she should have been able to solve on her own, in the strong manner of the family into which she had been born a princess.
She tried to hold back the tears burning behind her eyes, but one of them escaped despite her determination. Athanasia expected a stern reprimand from the Stone Prince, but instead he brought his horse close to hers and reached out to her, silently encouraging her to lean against him. Balancing herself with a hand upon his shoulder, she buried her face in the fabric of his chiton, weeping uncontrollably. She felt his arm around her and his hand upon the back of her head. His warmth permeated her body. Had this been what she had needed all along … someone to hold her while she cried?
At length her tears dried up and she lifted her head and sat back up in her saddle. “I’m sorry, Vang. I didn’t mean to soak your chiton. I’m sorry I ...” Her voice trailed off. She squared he shoulders proudly and her expression became resolute. ‘Thank you,” she said simply. A wan smile curved her lips. “Let’s keep this just between us, okay?”
Athanasia held out one hand for Ambrosia’s reins so that they could continue their ride. “I wish to apologize for my lack of support these past days. I was selfish to lock my self in my room. You’re going through so much more than I am, having to deal with your grief and taking over Father’s responsibilities.” She wished to ask what he was feeling, but that would be considered more of an insult than a genuine concern. “I want you to know that I am here for you and will help you in any way I can.”
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Athanasia prided herself on being as stoic as her brothers, never showing weakness or vulnerability in true Kotas fashion. She had kept the mood swings in check that had accompanied the transition from girlhood to womanhood and had learned early in her life to hide strong emotion. It was that unwavering strength of character that had kept prospective suitors at bay. She smiled and laughed with friends. There was nothing weak about enjoying oneself in good company.
But crying … that was inexcusable and the reason she had holed herself up in her room. She still hated herself for not being able to stop the tears that soaked her pillow and reddened her eyes, but at least nobody had seen or heard. Her father’s untimely demise had devastated her. It was her first experience with death, and because it had been a member of her immediate family, the ordeal was nearly impossible to deal with.
Even now, as she told Vangelis how difficult the last three days had been, she berated herself for her lack of control over her feelings. But he had asked and it all came pouring out of her … disbelief, the pain, and the regret. Athanasia had wanted to apologize to her eldest brother for her selfishness in thinking only of herself and not to him. And here she was burdening him with problems she should have been able to solve on her own, in the strong manner of the family into which she had been born a princess.
She tried to hold back the tears burning behind her eyes, but one of them escaped despite her determination. Athanasia expected a stern reprimand from the Stone Prince, but instead he brought his horse close to hers and reached out to her, silently encouraging her to lean against him. Balancing herself with a hand upon his shoulder, she buried her face in the fabric of his chiton, weeping uncontrollably. She felt his arm around her and his hand upon the back of her head. His warmth permeated her body. Had this been what she had needed all along … someone to hold her while she cried?
At length her tears dried up and she lifted her head and sat back up in her saddle. “I’m sorry, Vang. I didn’t mean to soak your chiton. I’m sorry I ...” Her voice trailed off. She squared he shoulders proudly and her expression became resolute. ‘Thank you,” she said simply. A wan smile curved her lips. “Let’s keep this just between us, okay?”
Athanasia held out one hand for Ambrosia’s reins so that they could continue their ride. “I wish to apologize for my lack of support these past days. I was selfish to lock my self in my room. You’re going through so much more than I am, having to deal with your grief and taking over Father’s responsibilities.” She wished to ask what he was feeling, but that would be considered more of an insult than a genuine concern. “I want you to know that I am here for you and will help you in any way I can.”
Athanasia prided herself on being as stoic as her brothers, never showing weakness or vulnerability in true Kotas fashion. She had kept the mood swings in check that had accompanied the transition from girlhood to womanhood and had learned early in her life to hide strong emotion. It was that unwavering strength of character that had kept prospective suitors at bay. She smiled and laughed with friends. There was nothing weak about enjoying oneself in good company.
But crying … that was inexcusable and the reason she had holed herself up in her room. She still hated herself for not being able to stop the tears that soaked her pillow and reddened her eyes, but at least nobody had seen or heard. Her father’s untimely demise had devastated her. It was her first experience with death, and because it had been a member of her immediate family, the ordeal was nearly impossible to deal with.
Even now, as she told Vangelis how difficult the last three days had been, she berated herself for her lack of control over her feelings. But he had asked and it all came pouring out of her … disbelief, the pain, and the regret. Athanasia had wanted to apologize to her eldest brother for her selfishness in thinking only of herself and not to him. And here she was burdening him with problems she should have been able to solve on her own, in the strong manner of the family into which she had been born a princess.
She tried to hold back the tears burning behind her eyes, but one of them escaped despite her determination. Athanasia expected a stern reprimand from the Stone Prince, but instead he brought his horse close to hers and reached out to her, silently encouraging her to lean against him. Balancing herself with a hand upon his shoulder, she buried her face in the fabric of his chiton, weeping uncontrollably. She felt his arm around her and his hand upon the back of her head. His warmth permeated her body. Had this been what she had needed all along … someone to hold her while she cried?
At length her tears dried up and she lifted her head and sat back up in her saddle. “I’m sorry, Vang. I didn’t mean to soak your chiton. I’m sorry I ...” Her voice trailed off. She squared he shoulders proudly and her expression became resolute. ‘Thank you,” she said simply. A wan smile curved her lips. “Let’s keep this just between us, okay?”
Athanasia held out one hand for Ambrosia’s reins so that they could continue their ride. “I wish to apologize for my lack of support these past days. I was selfish to lock my self in my room. You’re going through so much more than I am, having to deal with your grief and taking over Father’s responsibilities.” She wished to ask what he was feeling, but that would be considered more of an insult than a genuine concern. “I want you to know that I am here for you and will help you in any way I can.”
It was a clash of traditions and a clash of morals, to be sure, that had Vangelis comforting his sister as she sought the strength of his frame into which she could cry. She was a strong girl by all definitions of womanhood but now she crumbled in her grieve and self-reproach. Whilst he was a man who had been trained from a young age never to show weakness and he wasn't entirely certain that he had ever seen his mother cry, Vangelis found himself naturally trying to comfort rather than chastise Athanasia.
Perhaps it was the inner desire he secretly harboured to shed tears for their late father. Perhaps Athanasia's sorrow was allowing him to weep vicariously. Or, perhaps it was simply the fact that, along with being constantly taught to be stoic, to be strong... he had been taught why.
For the Kotas family were not stone statues and Vangelis had not been trained to be as durable as rock for no reason. The validation that such lessons were always given was in the defence of others. You had to be strong in battle to win and defend your people. You had to be stoic in public events so that the populace would know you to be an unshakeable ruler. You had to calm in all things so that your decisions could be carefully appointed and objectively sound. And all of this was so that Colchis, its people and, more significantly, his own family were protected from harm.
So, when harm was exactly what his sister now suffered, where was the protection in judgment? Where was the defence of her if he was to simply snap that she should be stronger? As a woman and as a young sibling; as a sister, she was the very reason that Vangelis had to remain strong; the reason that he and his brothers had been taught to be courageous. It was they that were duty-bound to protecting her.
In that light, it was perhaps not such a contradiction of teachings that Vangelis naturally reached out, curled her close to his side and permitted her to cry on his shoulder.
Minutes passed and Vangelis felt the fabric of his chiton gradually become sodden but such a thing was not a concern to him. He only held her still, his hand not petting or stroking in a comforting manner but simply remaining in her hair, firm and reliable. He said nothing to either comfort, encourage or dissuade her. He simply let her cry.
When she was done and pulled back, the first thing she did was apologise. Then she requested such an episode to be kept secret. Then she moved on to vow that she would make amends for her apparent insult of remaining in her rooms with her guilt and Vangelis responded to all of them with a stoic expression and quiet.
As she settled herself back upon her own steed, Vangelis reached out momentarily and snubbed the tip of her nose between his thumb and the curled knuckle of his first finger. The gesture was one he used to pull when she was little, when she would cry at his leave-taking for war. The nostalgic action spoke volumes as to his feelings upon his sister.
"Come..." He said, his single movement saying all that needed to be said of her apology and her vows to be better - that neither were necessary. "Let's ride until your spirit is back and then we'll head home."
The suggestion was followed by the turning of his mount and a soft curl to the corner of his lips. He would ride with her until her nose stopped running and her eyes were less red, and then they would head back together...
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It was a clash of traditions and a clash of morals, to be sure, that had Vangelis comforting his sister as she sought the strength of his frame into which she could cry. She was a strong girl by all definitions of womanhood but now she crumbled in her grieve and self-reproach. Whilst he was a man who had been trained from a young age never to show weakness and he wasn't entirely certain that he had ever seen his mother cry, Vangelis found himself naturally trying to comfort rather than chastise Athanasia.
Perhaps it was the inner desire he secretly harboured to shed tears for their late father. Perhaps Athanasia's sorrow was allowing him to weep vicariously. Or, perhaps it was simply the fact that, along with being constantly taught to be stoic, to be strong... he had been taught why.
For the Kotas family were not stone statues and Vangelis had not been trained to be as durable as rock for no reason. The validation that such lessons were always given was in the defence of others. You had to be strong in battle to win and defend your people. You had to be stoic in public events so that the populace would know you to be an unshakeable ruler. You had to calm in all things so that your decisions could be carefully appointed and objectively sound. And all of this was so that Colchis, its people and, more significantly, his own family were protected from harm.
So, when harm was exactly what his sister now suffered, where was the protection in judgment? Where was the defence of her if he was to simply snap that she should be stronger? As a woman and as a young sibling; as a sister, she was the very reason that Vangelis had to remain strong; the reason that he and his brothers had been taught to be courageous. It was they that were duty-bound to protecting her.
In that light, it was perhaps not such a contradiction of teachings that Vangelis naturally reached out, curled her close to his side and permitted her to cry on his shoulder.
Minutes passed and Vangelis felt the fabric of his chiton gradually become sodden but such a thing was not a concern to him. He only held her still, his hand not petting or stroking in a comforting manner but simply remaining in her hair, firm and reliable. He said nothing to either comfort, encourage or dissuade her. He simply let her cry.
When she was done and pulled back, the first thing she did was apologise. Then she requested such an episode to be kept secret. Then she moved on to vow that she would make amends for her apparent insult of remaining in her rooms with her guilt and Vangelis responded to all of them with a stoic expression and quiet.
As she settled herself back upon her own steed, Vangelis reached out momentarily and snubbed the tip of her nose between his thumb and the curled knuckle of his first finger. The gesture was one he used to pull when she was little, when she would cry at his leave-taking for war. The nostalgic action spoke volumes as to his feelings upon his sister.
"Come..." He said, his single movement saying all that needed to be said of her apology and her vows to be better - that neither were necessary. "Let's ride until your spirit is back and then we'll head home."
The suggestion was followed by the turning of his mount and a soft curl to the corner of his lips. He would ride with her until her nose stopped running and her eyes were less red, and then they would head back together...
It was a clash of traditions and a clash of morals, to be sure, that had Vangelis comforting his sister as she sought the strength of his frame into which she could cry. She was a strong girl by all definitions of womanhood but now she crumbled in her grieve and self-reproach. Whilst he was a man who had been trained from a young age never to show weakness and he wasn't entirely certain that he had ever seen his mother cry, Vangelis found himself naturally trying to comfort rather than chastise Athanasia.
Perhaps it was the inner desire he secretly harboured to shed tears for their late father. Perhaps Athanasia's sorrow was allowing him to weep vicariously. Or, perhaps it was simply the fact that, along with being constantly taught to be stoic, to be strong... he had been taught why.
For the Kotas family were not stone statues and Vangelis had not been trained to be as durable as rock for no reason. The validation that such lessons were always given was in the defence of others. You had to be strong in battle to win and defend your people. You had to be stoic in public events so that the populace would know you to be an unshakeable ruler. You had to calm in all things so that your decisions could be carefully appointed and objectively sound. And all of this was so that Colchis, its people and, more significantly, his own family were protected from harm.
So, when harm was exactly what his sister now suffered, where was the protection in judgment? Where was the defence of her if he was to simply snap that she should be stronger? As a woman and as a young sibling; as a sister, she was the very reason that Vangelis had to remain strong; the reason that he and his brothers had been taught to be courageous. It was they that were duty-bound to protecting her.
In that light, it was perhaps not such a contradiction of teachings that Vangelis naturally reached out, curled her close to his side and permitted her to cry on his shoulder.
Minutes passed and Vangelis felt the fabric of his chiton gradually become sodden but such a thing was not a concern to him. He only held her still, his hand not petting or stroking in a comforting manner but simply remaining in her hair, firm and reliable. He said nothing to either comfort, encourage or dissuade her. He simply let her cry.
When she was done and pulled back, the first thing she did was apologise. Then she requested such an episode to be kept secret. Then she moved on to vow that she would make amends for her apparent insult of remaining in her rooms with her guilt and Vangelis responded to all of them with a stoic expression and quiet.
As she settled herself back upon her own steed, Vangelis reached out momentarily and snubbed the tip of her nose between his thumb and the curled knuckle of his first finger. The gesture was one he used to pull when she was little, when she would cry at his leave-taking for war. The nostalgic action spoke volumes as to his feelings upon his sister.
"Come..." He said, his single movement saying all that needed to be said of her apology and her vows to be better - that neither were necessary. "Let's ride until your spirit is back and then we'll head home."
The suggestion was followed by the turning of his mount and a soft curl to the corner of his lips. He would ride with her until her nose stopped running and her eyes were less red, and then they would head back together...
Vangelis said nothing to Athanasia’s apology and her wish to support him. Was he disgusted by her outburst? A Kotas was not supposed to cry … ever … or show any other strong emotion. Her mother, who had married into the family instead of being born into it, was a perfect example of the indomitable attitude a woman of the Colchis royal line should maintain at all times. Never once had she seen sadness in the face of the Queen, though she had lost her beloved husband. She had been perfectly calm when she had insisted that her daughter assist with the planning of the upcoming feast. What would she think if she saw the princess now? Would she be disappointed in her or would she be sympathetic?
The breath whooshed from her lungs when her eldest brother tweaked her nose. He wasn’t angry at her after all or he would not have made that endearing gesture that she remembered fondly from her childhood. Vangelis understood what she was going through, as he was experiencing it himself, and did not seem to hold her sudden bout of weeping against her. Although she felt silly for crying like a baby, Athanasia also felt lighter, as if a great weight had been lifted from her chest. Maybe she had needed to get it out of her system. Who better to share her sorrow with than the brother she most looked up to and admired?
Her smile brightened considerably. As she took back Ambrosia’s reins, she noticed that she had soaked his chiton. He didn’t seem to mind and the night was warm enough that it would dry quickly. She almost apologized for that too, but refrained. Athanasia sniffed and wiped the tears from her eyes, wishing that she had a handkerchief to blow her nose with. She must look a sight, her eyes red and her face blotchy.
Vangelis suggested they continue their ride, and she thought she saw a slight smile grace his lips as he turned his horse back towards the forest. Her spirit was lifting already. She urged her white mare to trot beside him. “I don’t want to go home yet. I want to hunt.” The young princess grinned at him. “I didn’t lug my bow out here for nothing.”
And so they hunted and brought down a fair amount of game for the kitchens. When she was back in her room and getting ready for bed, Athanasia smiled. Hopefully, her brother had been able to relax as much as she had and simply enjoy himself for a few hours. Tomorrow he would have to be King again and she would be helping her mother. She felt closer to Vangelis now for some reason she couldn’t explain, and she hoped she always would.
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May 27, 2020 18:52:22 GMT
Posted In Making Amends on May 27, 2020 18:52:22 GMT
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Vangelis said nothing to Athanasia’s apology and her wish to support him. Was he disgusted by her outburst? A Kotas was not supposed to cry … ever … or show any other strong emotion. Her mother, who had married into the family instead of being born into it, was a perfect example of the indomitable attitude a woman of the Colchis royal line should maintain at all times. Never once had she seen sadness in the face of the Queen, though she had lost her beloved husband. She had been perfectly calm when she had insisted that her daughter assist with the planning of the upcoming feast. What would she think if she saw the princess now? Would she be disappointed in her or would she be sympathetic?
The breath whooshed from her lungs when her eldest brother tweaked her nose. He wasn’t angry at her after all or he would not have made that endearing gesture that she remembered fondly from her childhood. Vangelis understood what she was going through, as he was experiencing it himself, and did not seem to hold her sudden bout of weeping against her. Although she felt silly for crying like a baby, Athanasia also felt lighter, as if a great weight had been lifted from her chest. Maybe she had needed to get it out of her system. Who better to share her sorrow with than the brother she most looked up to and admired?
Her smile brightened considerably. As she took back Ambrosia’s reins, she noticed that she had soaked his chiton. He didn’t seem to mind and the night was warm enough that it would dry quickly. She almost apologized for that too, but refrained. Athanasia sniffed and wiped the tears from her eyes, wishing that she had a handkerchief to blow her nose with. She must look a sight, her eyes red and her face blotchy.
Vangelis suggested they continue their ride, and she thought she saw a slight smile grace his lips as he turned his horse back towards the forest. Her spirit was lifting already. She urged her white mare to trot beside him. “I don’t want to go home yet. I want to hunt.” The young princess grinned at him. “I didn’t lug my bow out here for nothing.”
And so they hunted and brought down a fair amount of game for the kitchens. When she was back in her room and getting ready for bed, Athanasia smiled. Hopefully, her brother had been able to relax as much as she had and simply enjoy himself for a few hours. Tomorrow he would have to be King again and she would be helping her mother. She felt closer to Vangelis now for some reason she couldn’t explain, and she hoped she always would.
Vangelis said nothing to Athanasia’s apology and her wish to support him. Was he disgusted by her outburst? A Kotas was not supposed to cry … ever … or show any other strong emotion. Her mother, who had married into the family instead of being born into it, was a perfect example of the indomitable attitude a woman of the Colchis royal line should maintain at all times. Never once had she seen sadness in the face of the Queen, though she had lost her beloved husband. She had been perfectly calm when she had insisted that her daughter assist with the planning of the upcoming feast. What would she think if she saw the princess now? Would she be disappointed in her or would she be sympathetic?
The breath whooshed from her lungs when her eldest brother tweaked her nose. He wasn’t angry at her after all or he would not have made that endearing gesture that she remembered fondly from her childhood. Vangelis understood what she was going through, as he was experiencing it himself, and did not seem to hold her sudden bout of weeping against her. Although she felt silly for crying like a baby, Athanasia also felt lighter, as if a great weight had been lifted from her chest. Maybe she had needed to get it out of her system. Who better to share her sorrow with than the brother she most looked up to and admired?
Her smile brightened considerably. As she took back Ambrosia’s reins, she noticed that she had soaked his chiton. He didn’t seem to mind and the night was warm enough that it would dry quickly. She almost apologized for that too, but refrained. Athanasia sniffed and wiped the tears from her eyes, wishing that she had a handkerchief to blow her nose with. She must look a sight, her eyes red and her face blotchy.
Vangelis suggested they continue their ride, and she thought she saw a slight smile grace his lips as he turned his horse back towards the forest. Her spirit was lifting already. She urged her white mare to trot beside him. “I don’t want to go home yet. I want to hunt.” The young princess grinned at him. “I didn’t lug my bow out here for nothing.”
And so they hunted and brought down a fair amount of game for the kitchens. When she was back in her room and getting ready for bed, Athanasia smiled. Hopefully, her brother had been able to relax as much as she had and simply enjoy himself for a few hours. Tomorrow he would have to be King again and she would be helping her mother. She felt closer to Vangelis now for some reason she couldn’t explain, and she hoped she always would.