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It had been a long day. Achilleas had been gifted a new horse by his father, one of his own choosing, and of course he had wanted to prove himself. And so the young man had selected a ridiculously high spirited colt, and had spent more hours than he could count over the past week picking himself up off the floor when the horrible creature pitched him off again.
He’d soldiered on through training whilst concealing the fact that he’d bashed up his wrist pretty well, and then had snuck out before dinner to try his luck again, only to take a fall that had knocked the wind from him and left him seeing stars. When he’d limped back into the house, he’d had to beg his mother not to send the horse back when she caught sight of him, because he knew his father would see only his failure if she did. He wouldn’t give up. Couldn’t. She’d relented eventually, but not without warning him that if he came home in such a state again she’d be taking the animal back to the Leventi’s herself.
He’d been quiet through dinner, the threat of that hanging over his head, the worry that his mother might change her mind and bring it up with his father niggling at him. Achilleas had felt the man’s eyes on him more than once, but thankfully there had been no mention of his well-wrapped wrist or the bruise at his temple. Good. Let him think he got them sparring. Or maybe that was worse, because he should be better at defending himself. And when Emilios had looked as though he might be about to say something, Achi had kicked him under the table and shot him a fierce look.
Climbing into bed later that night, even after a hot bath he still ached pretty much everywhere and Achilleas had wondered if he would even be able to sleep.He needed to, he wanted to get out before breakfast to work with the horse again and he still had sword practice to fit in too. He was still going over in his head what he was doing wrong with the colt when exhaustion must have snuck up and claimed him, and the boy fell into a deep sleep, despite his fretting.
He likely would have slept right through until Helios brought the sun, were it not for an unexpected disturbance. The boy stirred as someone was shaking his shoulder, blinked and jumped as he made out the shadowy outline of a figure standing next to the bed. His heart thumped loudly,stuttered and then steadied as he realised it was just Emilios, and Achilleas pushed himself groggily upright.
“Gods, Emilios! What are you doing? Go to sleep” .
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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It had been a long day. Achilleas had been gifted a new horse by his father, one of his own choosing, and of course he had wanted to prove himself. And so the young man had selected a ridiculously high spirited colt, and had spent more hours than he could count over the past week picking himself up off the floor when the horrible creature pitched him off again.
He’d soldiered on through training whilst concealing the fact that he’d bashed up his wrist pretty well, and then had snuck out before dinner to try his luck again, only to take a fall that had knocked the wind from him and left him seeing stars. When he’d limped back into the house, he’d had to beg his mother not to send the horse back when she caught sight of him, because he knew his father would see only his failure if she did. He wouldn’t give up. Couldn’t. She’d relented eventually, but not without warning him that if he came home in such a state again she’d be taking the animal back to the Leventi’s herself.
He’d been quiet through dinner, the threat of that hanging over his head, the worry that his mother might change her mind and bring it up with his father niggling at him. Achilleas had felt the man’s eyes on him more than once, but thankfully there had been no mention of his well-wrapped wrist or the bruise at his temple. Good. Let him think he got them sparring. Or maybe that was worse, because he should be better at defending himself. And when Emilios had looked as though he might be about to say something, Achi had kicked him under the table and shot him a fierce look.
Climbing into bed later that night, even after a hot bath he still ached pretty much everywhere and Achilleas had wondered if he would even be able to sleep.He needed to, he wanted to get out before breakfast to work with the horse again and he still had sword practice to fit in too. He was still going over in his head what he was doing wrong with the colt when exhaustion must have snuck up and claimed him, and the boy fell into a deep sleep, despite his fretting.
He likely would have slept right through until Helios brought the sun, were it not for an unexpected disturbance. The boy stirred as someone was shaking his shoulder, blinked and jumped as he made out the shadowy outline of a figure standing next to the bed. His heart thumped loudly,stuttered and then steadied as he realised it was just Emilios, and Achilleas pushed himself groggily upright.
“Gods, Emilios! What are you doing? Go to sleep” .
It had been a long day. Achilleas had been gifted a new horse by his father, one of his own choosing, and of course he had wanted to prove himself. And so the young man had selected a ridiculously high spirited colt, and had spent more hours than he could count over the past week picking himself up off the floor when the horrible creature pitched him off again.
He’d soldiered on through training whilst concealing the fact that he’d bashed up his wrist pretty well, and then had snuck out before dinner to try his luck again, only to take a fall that had knocked the wind from him and left him seeing stars. When he’d limped back into the house, he’d had to beg his mother not to send the horse back when she caught sight of him, because he knew his father would see only his failure if she did. He wouldn’t give up. Couldn’t. She’d relented eventually, but not without warning him that if he came home in such a state again she’d be taking the animal back to the Leventi’s herself.
He’d been quiet through dinner, the threat of that hanging over his head, the worry that his mother might change her mind and bring it up with his father niggling at him. Achilleas had felt the man’s eyes on him more than once, but thankfully there had been no mention of his well-wrapped wrist or the bruise at his temple. Good. Let him think he got them sparring. Or maybe that was worse, because he should be better at defending himself. And when Emilios had looked as though he might be about to say something, Achi had kicked him under the table and shot him a fierce look.
Climbing into bed later that night, even after a hot bath he still ached pretty much everywhere and Achilleas had wondered if he would even be able to sleep.He needed to, he wanted to get out before breakfast to work with the horse again and he still had sword practice to fit in too. He was still going over in his head what he was doing wrong with the colt when exhaustion must have snuck up and claimed him, and the boy fell into a deep sleep, despite his fretting.
He likely would have slept right through until Helios brought the sun, were it not for an unexpected disturbance. The boy stirred as someone was shaking his shoulder, blinked and jumped as he made out the shadowy outline of a figure standing next to the bed. His heart thumped loudly,stuttered and then steadied as he realised it was just Emilios, and Achilleas pushed himself groggily upright.
“Gods, Emilios! What are you doing? Go to sleep” .
Emilios worshipped the ground his brother walked on.
It seemed like there was nothing he couldn’t do. If there was a contest, he would win it. If he was challenged, the defeat of his opponent was almost clandestined. Achilleas was perfect in his brother’s eyes, especially at his young age. And while the younger boy wouldn’t lie about being jealous of his brother’s new horse, he had to admit that he deserved it. The horse was beautiful, and it made Emilios was one of his own.
He would have to do everything he could to make sure he deserved one, too.
Achilleas hadn’t seemed bothered by the fact that his younger brother had wanted to watch him conquer the beast. He thought that the older boy would give up after being tossed from his saddle time and time again. But he didn’t, and it only made one fact stick in his mind-- his brother never gave up. Perhaps that would stick with him through adulthood, and perhaps Emilios would remember this day as a reminder to be like his brother. But each time Achileas found himself on the ground, Emilios would be shouting words of encouragement to get him back on the saddle.
Emilios would have thought his brother would have been bragging about how difficult the horse was, but how he wasn’t giving up on it. He would have thought their father would have liked to know that he wasn’t going to let his gift best him. But Achilleas was surprisingly quiet. And any attempt the younger man made to sing his brother’s praises (and maybe tease a bit about how often he’d found himself on the ground), a boot met his shin, quieting his words.
After a bath himself, Emilios took to his own bed. That night, he said a prayer to the Gods that they might make him as good at something as his brother was. That he wanted to be like his brother in every way, but better. He fiddled with the fletching on a few arrows he was working on, up late until he finally found rest halfway through the night.
When he woke up, it was late and his heart was racing in his chest. Slipping out of bed, Emilios quietly walked the halls to the room the belonged to his brother. Instead of knocking, he let himself in and closed the door behind him. And he waited at the foot of the bed, trying to think about how best to wake him up. But he was even good at knowing when he needed to get up, as he shot out of bed only a few minutes after Emilios walked in.
”I had a bad dream.” He said sheepishly, moving around to the side of the bed. ”Can I sleep with you?”
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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Emilios worshipped the ground his brother walked on.
It seemed like there was nothing he couldn’t do. If there was a contest, he would win it. If he was challenged, the defeat of his opponent was almost clandestined. Achilleas was perfect in his brother’s eyes, especially at his young age. And while the younger boy wouldn’t lie about being jealous of his brother’s new horse, he had to admit that he deserved it. The horse was beautiful, and it made Emilios was one of his own.
He would have to do everything he could to make sure he deserved one, too.
Achilleas hadn’t seemed bothered by the fact that his younger brother had wanted to watch him conquer the beast. He thought that the older boy would give up after being tossed from his saddle time and time again. But he didn’t, and it only made one fact stick in his mind-- his brother never gave up. Perhaps that would stick with him through adulthood, and perhaps Emilios would remember this day as a reminder to be like his brother. But each time Achileas found himself on the ground, Emilios would be shouting words of encouragement to get him back on the saddle.
Emilios would have thought his brother would have been bragging about how difficult the horse was, but how he wasn’t giving up on it. He would have thought their father would have liked to know that he wasn’t going to let his gift best him. But Achilleas was surprisingly quiet. And any attempt the younger man made to sing his brother’s praises (and maybe tease a bit about how often he’d found himself on the ground), a boot met his shin, quieting his words.
After a bath himself, Emilios took to his own bed. That night, he said a prayer to the Gods that they might make him as good at something as his brother was. That he wanted to be like his brother in every way, but better. He fiddled with the fletching on a few arrows he was working on, up late until he finally found rest halfway through the night.
When he woke up, it was late and his heart was racing in his chest. Slipping out of bed, Emilios quietly walked the halls to the room the belonged to his brother. Instead of knocking, he let himself in and closed the door behind him. And he waited at the foot of the bed, trying to think about how best to wake him up. But he was even good at knowing when he needed to get up, as he shot out of bed only a few minutes after Emilios walked in.
”I had a bad dream.” He said sheepishly, moving around to the side of the bed. ”Can I sleep with you?”
Emilios worshipped the ground his brother walked on.
It seemed like there was nothing he couldn’t do. If there was a contest, he would win it. If he was challenged, the defeat of his opponent was almost clandestined. Achilleas was perfect in his brother’s eyes, especially at his young age. And while the younger boy wouldn’t lie about being jealous of his brother’s new horse, he had to admit that he deserved it. The horse was beautiful, and it made Emilios was one of his own.
He would have to do everything he could to make sure he deserved one, too.
Achilleas hadn’t seemed bothered by the fact that his younger brother had wanted to watch him conquer the beast. He thought that the older boy would give up after being tossed from his saddle time and time again. But he didn’t, and it only made one fact stick in his mind-- his brother never gave up. Perhaps that would stick with him through adulthood, and perhaps Emilios would remember this day as a reminder to be like his brother. But each time Achileas found himself on the ground, Emilios would be shouting words of encouragement to get him back on the saddle.
Emilios would have thought his brother would have been bragging about how difficult the horse was, but how he wasn’t giving up on it. He would have thought their father would have liked to know that he wasn’t going to let his gift best him. But Achilleas was surprisingly quiet. And any attempt the younger man made to sing his brother’s praises (and maybe tease a bit about how often he’d found himself on the ground), a boot met his shin, quieting his words.
After a bath himself, Emilios took to his own bed. That night, he said a prayer to the Gods that they might make him as good at something as his brother was. That he wanted to be like his brother in every way, but better. He fiddled with the fletching on a few arrows he was working on, up late until he finally found rest halfway through the night.
When he woke up, it was late and his heart was racing in his chest. Slipping out of bed, Emilios quietly walked the halls to the room the belonged to his brother. Instead of knocking, he let himself in and closed the door behind him. And he waited at the foot of the bed, trying to think about how best to wake him up. But he was even good at knowing when he needed to get up, as he shot out of bed only a few minutes after Emilios walked in.
”I had a bad dream.” He said sheepishly, moving around to the side of the bed. ”Can I sleep with you?”
The older boy blinked blearily at his younger sibling, scrubbing a hand over his face as he tried to take in the other’s words, thick through the fog of sleep. After a moment, he pushed back the tangle of sheets and got to his feet, reaching over to ruffle a hand through the other’s hair.
“It’s just a dream, Em.”
In spite of such a dismissal, Achilleas wasn’t about to send his brother away. Like everything else he did, he took his responsibilities as older sibling very seriously. “ Do you want some juice?”he asked in a whisper “We can go and get some. Maybe some honey cake too.” He was already padding his way towards the door, expecting Emilios to follow. Emilios always followed, like his little shadow. With four years between them, Achilleas naturally considered himself that much older and wiser than his younger brother, and there was a degree of protectiveness there too. It didn’t take much guessing to work out why Emilios had chosen to wake his brother rather than go to their parent’s chamber. Their father could be a stern man, and was not given to mollycoddling his sons. Achilleas wouldn’t have risked disturbing him either.
Quietly, he led the way through the sleeping manor house to the big kitchen. Usually abustle with activity, it was strange to see it so empty and still, and Achilleas scrabbled around to light a candle from the dying embers of the fire in the grate. The wax dripped on to his hand and he hissed, flicked it off before he set the candle down on the table and pulled out a chair for his brother. “Here. You sit there.”
And leaving Emilios perched at the big table in the middle of the kitchen, the older boy ventured into the cool room, peered into the large clay jugs until he found one that looked and smelled like fruit juice and then hefted it off the shelf, holding it against his body so he didn’t risk dropping it and waking the cook who would surely scold them both.
It landed on the table with a dull thunk, and was followed by a small earthenware cup into which Achilleas poured some of the juice..orange in colour and sweet smelling. The cake was easy to find too, and soon the brothers had themselves a little midnight feast. He hoped the cook wouldn’t be too angry. He thought if he explained, she would understand. Maybe he could speak to her before breakfast.
“What did you dream about?” Achilleas asked around a mouthful of honey cake, peering at Emilios across the table. Though he didn’t want to make his brother more frightened, and had dismissed his nightmare as just that earlier, one could never be sure with dreams. Sometimes it was said that they could foretell futures. What if Emilios had seen something that might be real one day?
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The older boy blinked blearily at his younger sibling, scrubbing a hand over his face as he tried to take in the other’s words, thick through the fog of sleep. After a moment, he pushed back the tangle of sheets and got to his feet, reaching over to ruffle a hand through the other’s hair.
“It’s just a dream, Em.”
In spite of such a dismissal, Achilleas wasn’t about to send his brother away. Like everything else he did, he took his responsibilities as older sibling very seriously. “ Do you want some juice?”he asked in a whisper “We can go and get some. Maybe some honey cake too.” He was already padding his way towards the door, expecting Emilios to follow. Emilios always followed, like his little shadow. With four years between them, Achilleas naturally considered himself that much older and wiser than his younger brother, and there was a degree of protectiveness there too. It didn’t take much guessing to work out why Emilios had chosen to wake his brother rather than go to their parent’s chamber. Their father could be a stern man, and was not given to mollycoddling his sons. Achilleas wouldn’t have risked disturbing him either.
Quietly, he led the way through the sleeping manor house to the big kitchen. Usually abustle with activity, it was strange to see it so empty and still, and Achilleas scrabbled around to light a candle from the dying embers of the fire in the grate. The wax dripped on to his hand and he hissed, flicked it off before he set the candle down on the table and pulled out a chair for his brother. “Here. You sit there.”
And leaving Emilios perched at the big table in the middle of the kitchen, the older boy ventured into the cool room, peered into the large clay jugs until he found one that looked and smelled like fruit juice and then hefted it off the shelf, holding it against his body so he didn’t risk dropping it and waking the cook who would surely scold them both.
It landed on the table with a dull thunk, and was followed by a small earthenware cup into which Achilleas poured some of the juice..orange in colour and sweet smelling. The cake was easy to find too, and soon the brothers had themselves a little midnight feast. He hoped the cook wouldn’t be too angry. He thought if he explained, she would understand. Maybe he could speak to her before breakfast.
“What did you dream about?” Achilleas asked around a mouthful of honey cake, peering at Emilios across the table. Though he didn’t want to make his brother more frightened, and had dismissed his nightmare as just that earlier, one could never be sure with dreams. Sometimes it was said that they could foretell futures. What if Emilios had seen something that might be real one day?
The older boy blinked blearily at his younger sibling, scrubbing a hand over his face as he tried to take in the other’s words, thick through the fog of sleep. After a moment, he pushed back the tangle of sheets and got to his feet, reaching over to ruffle a hand through the other’s hair.
“It’s just a dream, Em.”
In spite of such a dismissal, Achilleas wasn’t about to send his brother away. Like everything else he did, he took his responsibilities as older sibling very seriously. “ Do you want some juice?”he asked in a whisper “We can go and get some. Maybe some honey cake too.” He was already padding his way towards the door, expecting Emilios to follow. Emilios always followed, like his little shadow. With four years between them, Achilleas naturally considered himself that much older and wiser than his younger brother, and there was a degree of protectiveness there too. It didn’t take much guessing to work out why Emilios had chosen to wake his brother rather than go to their parent’s chamber. Their father could be a stern man, and was not given to mollycoddling his sons. Achilleas wouldn’t have risked disturbing him either.
Quietly, he led the way through the sleeping manor house to the big kitchen. Usually abustle with activity, it was strange to see it so empty and still, and Achilleas scrabbled around to light a candle from the dying embers of the fire in the grate. The wax dripped on to his hand and he hissed, flicked it off before he set the candle down on the table and pulled out a chair for his brother. “Here. You sit there.”
And leaving Emilios perched at the big table in the middle of the kitchen, the older boy ventured into the cool room, peered into the large clay jugs until he found one that looked and smelled like fruit juice and then hefted it off the shelf, holding it against his body so he didn’t risk dropping it and waking the cook who would surely scold them both.
It landed on the table with a dull thunk, and was followed by a small earthenware cup into which Achilleas poured some of the juice..orange in colour and sweet smelling. The cake was easy to find too, and soon the brothers had themselves a little midnight feast. He hoped the cook wouldn’t be too angry. He thought if he explained, she would understand. Maybe he could speak to her before breakfast.
“What did you dream about?” Achilleas asked around a mouthful of honey cake, peering at Emilios across the table. Though he didn’t want to make his brother more frightened, and had dismissed his nightmare as just that earlier, one could never be sure with dreams. Sometimes it was said that they could foretell futures. What if Emilios had seen something that might be real one day?
He had almost refrained from bothering anyone. But the vividness of the dream had him in the halls before he could stop himself. And choosing Achilleas over their parents had been an easy choice. What had been tough was accepting that his brother might just send him back to bed. It seemed, at times, that his brother would attempt to be like their father, a bit more stern than he had been when they were younger. But when Achilleas ruffled his hair as he got out of bed, Emilios sighed in relief. He didn’t want to be in his room alone.
His brother mentioned honey cake and juice, which meant that Emilios was right behind him. Achilleas always knew how to make his kid brother feel better, no matter the situation. And while he hadn’t initially been looking for something to eat, the idea of a snack was not worth turning down. He was quiet, like his brother, to avoid waking the house. If they were discovered, they would be told to go back to bed. And that was the last thing he wanted to do.
It was unusual for the boy to be so quiet. He climbed up onto the chair, crossing his legs underneath himself as he settled into the seat. It was far more common for the boy to talk up a storm, to comment on everything from the weather to the animals he saw and the way people looked at him. He liked to have a running commentary of life, to which his father claimed he just liked hearing the sound of his own voice. Around the man, he was usually quiet, but for everyone else…
It wasn’t until his mouth was full of cake that Achilleas asked his question. As he chewed his food, he tried to remember exactly what had woken him up. ”Fire.” He said, swallowing his mouthful of food, then washing it down with juice. Brushing the crumbs away from his mouth with the back of his hand, he stared down at his cake. ”Lots of fire. And scary men with weapons burning down the city. And I couldn’t find you or Mama or Papa anywhere.” He said, cheeks flushing from embarrassment.
”I woke up as they were setting the house on fire.” His eyes drifted back to the hearth. ”Oh man, do you think that Papa will smell the burning wood and wake up and get mad? He had a healthy fear of his father. ”I don’t want him to get mad at you.” He shoved a piece of cake into his mouth, ”And Mama will be mad, too.” It was hard to hear that last one, with his mouth so full.
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He had almost refrained from bothering anyone. But the vividness of the dream had him in the halls before he could stop himself. And choosing Achilleas over their parents had been an easy choice. What had been tough was accepting that his brother might just send him back to bed. It seemed, at times, that his brother would attempt to be like their father, a bit more stern than he had been when they were younger. But when Achilleas ruffled his hair as he got out of bed, Emilios sighed in relief. He didn’t want to be in his room alone.
His brother mentioned honey cake and juice, which meant that Emilios was right behind him. Achilleas always knew how to make his kid brother feel better, no matter the situation. And while he hadn’t initially been looking for something to eat, the idea of a snack was not worth turning down. He was quiet, like his brother, to avoid waking the house. If they were discovered, they would be told to go back to bed. And that was the last thing he wanted to do.
It was unusual for the boy to be so quiet. He climbed up onto the chair, crossing his legs underneath himself as he settled into the seat. It was far more common for the boy to talk up a storm, to comment on everything from the weather to the animals he saw and the way people looked at him. He liked to have a running commentary of life, to which his father claimed he just liked hearing the sound of his own voice. Around the man, he was usually quiet, but for everyone else…
It wasn’t until his mouth was full of cake that Achilleas asked his question. As he chewed his food, he tried to remember exactly what had woken him up. ”Fire.” He said, swallowing his mouthful of food, then washing it down with juice. Brushing the crumbs away from his mouth with the back of his hand, he stared down at his cake. ”Lots of fire. And scary men with weapons burning down the city. And I couldn’t find you or Mama or Papa anywhere.” He said, cheeks flushing from embarrassment.
”I woke up as they were setting the house on fire.” His eyes drifted back to the hearth. ”Oh man, do you think that Papa will smell the burning wood and wake up and get mad? He had a healthy fear of his father. ”I don’t want him to get mad at you.” He shoved a piece of cake into his mouth, ”And Mama will be mad, too.” It was hard to hear that last one, with his mouth so full.
He had almost refrained from bothering anyone. But the vividness of the dream had him in the halls before he could stop himself. And choosing Achilleas over their parents had been an easy choice. What had been tough was accepting that his brother might just send him back to bed. It seemed, at times, that his brother would attempt to be like their father, a bit more stern than he had been when they were younger. But when Achilleas ruffled his hair as he got out of bed, Emilios sighed in relief. He didn’t want to be in his room alone.
His brother mentioned honey cake and juice, which meant that Emilios was right behind him. Achilleas always knew how to make his kid brother feel better, no matter the situation. And while he hadn’t initially been looking for something to eat, the idea of a snack was not worth turning down. He was quiet, like his brother, to avoid waking the house. If they were discovered, they would be told to go back to bed. And that was the last thing he wanted to do.
It was unusual for the boy to be so quiet. He climbed up onto the chair, crossing his legs underneath himself as he settled into the seat. It was far more common for the boy to talk up a storm, to comment on everything from the weather to the animals he saw and the way people looked at him. He liked to have a running commentary of life, to which his father claimed he just liked hearing the sound of his own voice. Around the man, he was usually quiet, but for everyone else…
It wasn’t until his mouth was full of cake that Achilleas asked his question. As he chewed his food, he tried to remember exactly what had woken him up. ”Fire.” He said, swallowing his mouthful of food, then washing it down with juice. Brushing the crumbs away from his mouth with the back of his hand, he stared down at his cake. ”Lots of fire. And scary men with weapons burning down the city. And I couldn’t find you or Mama or Papa anywhere.” He said, cheeks flushing from embarrassment.
”I woke up as they were setting the house on fire.” His eyes drifted back to the hearth. ”Oh man, do you think that Papa will smell the burning wood and wake up and get mad? He had a healthy fear of his father. ”I don’t want him to get mad at you.” He shoved a piece of cake into his mouth, ”And Mama will be mad, too.” It was hard to hear that last one, with his mouth so full.
It must have been a horrible dream, Achilleas thought because Emilios was never usually so quiet. He surveyed his brother over the tabletop, watching as he settled into his chair, and Achilleas felt a little better when the younger boy began shoveling cake into his mouth. That was more normal behaviour at least.
Nodding because his mouth was full, he listened attentively as Emilios began to speak. Partway through his brother's retelling he began to wonder if maybe it was a stupid idea getting him to retell it, and scaring him all over again. He was quick to throw out the “Its ok Em. It sounds horrible. I would’ve been scared too.”
He took a sip of juice and thought for a moment, wondering how he could reassure his little brother more. “You know that if there was a fire that Father would protect us. He’s the best General in all of Greece, probably even the world. I don’t think anyone would dare come near our house”
Following Emilios’ gaze to the hearth and the boy’s fear about them being found out of bed, he shook his head in answer.“I don’t think so. Their room is too far away” But he felt a twinge of worry all the same, he didnt want to get in trouble either. He hated it, and even the thought of being scolded was enough to make him feel a little sick and uncomfortable. Chewing on his lip, he wondered if their parents would really be cross. He was just trying to make Emilios feel better, that couldn’t be very bad could it?
“Mother wouldn’t be mad” he said confidently. “Though Cook might be. Hopefully she’ll think we have mice. Big mice” Just in case though, he hopped off the chair and hurried over to the fire, threw some of the ashes over the embers. It was messy though, and Achilleas frowned at where it had smudged on his hands. He wiped them on his legs and then went back to rejoin his brother, looking at Emilios to see if he looked any calmer.
He could distract him maybe. “I fell off Pyra four times today” he grumbled, pulling up his sleeve to show where he was bruised like an apple. “He’s a stupid horse. I think he hates me. Just when I think he’s going to be good he starts off again. I wish I’d chosen a different one”
Achilleas didnt like talking about his failures, but he thought it would help turn Emilios’ thoughts away from his bad dream, so he tried it anyway. And then quickly, with a fierce look “Don’t you dare tell Father though”
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It must have been a horrible dream, Achilleas thought because Emilios was never usually so quiet. He surveyed his brother over the tabletop, watching as he settled into his chair, and Achilleas felt a little better when the younger boy began shoveling cake into his mouth. That was more normal behaviour at least.
Nodding because his mouth was full, he listened attentively as Emilios began to speak. Partway through his brother's retelling he began to wonder if maybe it was a stupid idea getting him to retell it, and scaring him all over again. He was quick to throw out the “Its ok Em. It sounds horrible. I would’ve been scared too.”
He took a sip of juice and thought for a moment, wondering how he could reassure his little brother more. “You know that if there was a fire that Father would protect us. He’s the best General in all of Greece, probably even the world. I don’t think anyone would dare come near our house”
Following Emilios’ gaze to the hearth and the boy’s fear about them being found out of bed, he shook his head in answer.“I don’t think so. Their room is too far away” But he felt a twinge of worry all the same, he didnt want to get in trouble either. He hated it, and even the thought of being scolded was enough to make him feel a little sick and uncomfortable. Chewing on his lip, he wondered if their parents would really be cross. He was just trying to make Emilios feel better, that couldn’t be very bad could it?
“Mother wouldn’t be mad” he said confidently. “Though Cook might be. Hopefully she’ll think we have mice. Big mice” Just in case though, he hopped off the chair and hurried over to the fire, threw some of the ashes over the embers. It was messy though, and Achilleas frowned at where it had smudged on his hands. He wiped them on his legs and then went back to rejoin his brother, looking at Emilios to see if he looked any calmer.
He could distract him maybe. “I fell off Pyra four times today” he grumbled, pulling up his sleeve to show where he was bruised like an apple. “He’s a stupid horse. I think he hates me. Just when I think he’s going to be good he starts off again. I wish I’d chosen a different one”
Achilleas didnt like talking about his failures, but he thought it would help turn Emilios’ thoughts away from his bad dream, so he tried it anyway. And then quickly, with a fierce look “Don’t you dare tell Father though”
It must have been a horrible dream, Achilleas thought because Emilios was never usually so quiet. He surveyed his brother over the tabletop, watching as he settled into his chair, and Achilleas felt a little better when the younger boy began shoveling cake into his mouth. That was more normal behaviour at least.
Nodding because his mouth was full, he listened attentively as Emilios began to speak. Partway through his brother's retelling he began to wonder if maybe it was a stupid idea getting him to retell it, and scaring him all over again. He was quick to throw out the “Its ok Em. It sounds horrible. I would’ve been scared too.”
He took a sip of juice and thought for a moment, wondering how he could reassure his little brother more. “You know that if there was a fire that Father would protect us. He’s the best General in all of Greece, probably even the world. I don’t think anyone would dare come near our house”
Following Emilios’ gaze to the hearth and the boy’s fear about them being found out of bed, he shook his head in answer.“I don’t think so. Their room is too far away” But he felt a twinge of worry all the same, he didnt want to get in trouble either. He hated it, and even the thought of being scolded was enough to make him feel a little sick and uncomfortable. Chewing on his lip, he wondered if their parents would really be cross. He was just trying to make Emilios feel better, that couldn’t be very bad could it?
“Mother wouldn’t be mad” he said confidently. “Though Cook might be. Hopefully she’ll think we have mice. Big mice” Just in case though, he hopped off the chair and hurried over to the fire, threw some of the ashes over the embers. It was messy though, and Achilleas frowned at where it had smudged on his hands. He wiped them on his legs and then went back to rejoin his brother, looking at Emilios to see if he looked any calmer.
He could distract him maybe. “I fell off Pyra four times today” he grumbled, pulling up his sleeve to show where he was bruised like an apple. “He’s a stupid horse. I think he hates me. Just when I think he’s going to be good he starts off again. I wish I’d chosen a different one”
Achilleas didnt like talking about his failures, but he thought it would help turn Emilios’ thoughts away from his bad dream, so he tried it anyway. And then quickly, with a fierce look “Don’t you dare tell Father though”
He knew it was out of character for him, the neverending chatterbox, to be silent as he thought about the dream he had. Emilios was glad that his brother was here to at least listen to what he saw, to bring him comfort in this. There had been a reason he’d gone to his brother’s room instead of his parent’s. And his response was enough to prove he’d been right. And hearing that his brother would have been scared too was the exact answer he wanted.
He wasn’t a baby, not when fire and death filled the quiet of his mind. It was reassuring to hear that his brother had confidence in their father, and even without further proof. Emilios should have had blind faith in the man, but he was not as close to their father as his older brother was. No, the young man barely had much of a relationship with the man, mostly looked up to his brother for guidance on who to be. So if Achilleas believed that their father could protect them, then it must be so. He only nodded, his eyes following his brother to the hearth to assist in putting out the small fire that had been started.
There was a giggle, his hand moving up to his mouth to muffle it, at the thought of the size of mice that would have had to be rampant in the kitchen to eat as much as they had. ”Cook will know it was two Mikaelidas mice, but I don’t think she’ll tell Papa.” Perhaps he could go pick a bunch of flowers for her, give her a nice gift to make up for the food that had been eaten. ”And we will do the same for Mama, if she finds out. Whatever it takes not to get a ‘stern talking to’ by Papa.” The last thing either boy wanted to do was disappoint the man.
That’s why his brother’s confession was so shocking-- if their father knew, he would be most disappointed, indeed. ”Did you try giving him an apple first? I watched one of those Leventi girls convince a horse way bigger than Pyra to let her ride it. Maybe if you gave him an apple, he’d let you ride him, too.” He was still stuck riding ponies, learning the basics with Stephanos before he was going to be allowed to ride a bigger one, or be gifted his own horse like Achilleas had. ”I bet Lord Georgios would help you ride him. You could impress Papa with how good you are!” In his mind, it seemed like a good idea.
”I won’t tell Papa, I promise. If you don’t tell him about my dream.” The dream was silly, and certainly wasn’t as bad as falling off and hating a gift from their father. But to the young Mikaelidas, it seemed just as good a promise. He let out a yawn, rubbing his eyes, ”Would it be okay if I slept in your room tonight? I’ll put a mat on the floor and wake up early to be gone before Mama finds out.” Did he feel silly for not being able to be alone? Sure, but he wasn’t going to chance having the same dream without the protection of his big brother close by. ”Please?”
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He knew it was out of character for him, the neverending chatterbox, to be silent as he thought about the dream he had. Emilios was glad that his brother was here to at least listen to what he saw, to bring him comfort in this. There had been a reason he’d gone to his brother’s room instead of his parent’s. And his response was enough to prove he’d been right. And hearing that his brother would have been scared too was the exact answer he wanted.
He wasn’t a baby, not when fire and death filled the quiet of his mind. It was reassuring to hear that his brother had confidence in their father, and even without further proof. Emilios should have had blind faith in the man, but he was not as close to their father as his older brother was. No, the young man barely had much of a relationship with the man, mostly looked up to his brother for guidance on who to be. So if Achilleas believed that their father could protect them, then it must be so. He only nodded, his eyes following his brother to the hearth to assist in putting out the small fire that had been started.
There was a giggle, his hand moving up to his mouth to muffle it, at the thought of the size of mice that would have had to be rampant in the kitchen to eat as much as they had. ”Cook will know it was two Mikaelidas mice, but I don’t think she’ll tell Papa.” Perhaps he could go pick a bunch of flowers for her, give her a nice gift to make up for the food that had been eaten. ”And we will do the same for Mama, if she finds out. Whatever it takes not to get a ‘stern talking to’ by Papa.” The last thing either boy wanted to do was disappoint the man.
That’s why his brother’s confession was so shocking-- if their father knew, he would be most disappointed, indeed. ”Did you try giving him an apple first? I watched one of those Leventi girls convince a horse way bigger than Pyra to let her ride it. Maybe if you gave him an apple, he’d let you ride him, too.” He was still stuck riding ponies, learning the basics with Stephanos before he was going to be allowed to ride a bigger one, or be gifted his own horse like Achilleas had. ”I bet Lord Georgios would help you ride him. You could impress Papa with how good you are!” In his mind, it seemed like a good idea.
”I won’t tell Papa, I promise. If you don’t tell him about my dream.” The dream was silly, and certainly wasn’t as bad as falling off and hating a gift from their father. But to the young Mikaelidas, it seemed just as good a promise. He let out a yawn, rubbing his eyes, ”Would it be okay if I slept in your room tonight? I’ll put a mat on the floor and wake up early to be gone before Mama finds out.” Did he feel silly for not being able to be alone? Sure, but he wasn’t going to chance having the same dream without the protection of his big brother close by. ”Please?”
He knew it was out of character for him, the neverending chatterbox, to be silent as he thought about the dream he had. Emilios was glad that his brother was here to at least listen to what he saw, to bring him comfort in this. There had been a reason he’d gone to his brother’s room instead of his parent’s. And his response was enough to prove he’d been right. And hearing that his brother would have been scared too was the exact answer he wanted.
He wasn’t a baby, not when fire and death filled the quiet of his mind. It was reassuring to hear that his brother had confidence in their father, and even without further proof. Emilios should have had blind faith in the man, but he was not as close to their father as his older brother was. No, the young man barely had much of a relationship with the man, mostly looked up to his brother for guidance on who to be. So if Achilleas believed that their father could protect them, then it must be so. He only nodded, his eyes following his brother to the hearth to assist in putting out the small fire that had been started.
There was a giggle, his hand moving up to his mouth to muffle it, at the thought of the size of mice that would have had to be rampant in the kitchen to eat as much as they had. ”Cook will know it was two Mikaelidas mice, but I don’t think she’ll tell Papa.” Perhaps he could go pick a bunch of flowers for her, give her a nice gift to make up for the food that had been eaten. ”And we will do the same for Mama, if she finds out. Whatever it takes not to get a ‘stern talking to’ by Papa.” The last thing either boy wanted to do was disappoint the man.
That’s why his brother’s confession was so shocking-- if their father knew, he would be most disappointed, indeed. ”Did you try giving him an apple first? I watched one of those Leventi girls convince a horse way bigger than Pyra to let her ride it. Maybe if you gave him an apple, he’d let you ride him, too.” He was still stuck riding ponies, learning the basics with Stephanos before he was going to be allowed to ride a bigger one, or be gifted his own horse like Achilleas had. ”I bet Lord Georgios would help you ride him. You could impress Papa with how good you are!” In his mind, it seemed like a good idea.
”I won’t tell Papa, I promise. If you don’t tell him about my dream.” The dream was silly, and certainly wasn’t as bad as falling off and hating a gift from their father. But to the young Mikaelidas, it seemed just as good a promise. He let out a yawn, rubbing his eyes, ”Would it be okay if I slept in your room tonight? I’ll put a mat on the floor and wake up early to be gone before Mama finds out.” Did he feel silly for not being able to be alone? Sure, but he wasn’t going to chance having the same dream without the protection of his big brother close by. ”Please?”
Achilleas pulled a face at Emilios as he returned from dousing the fire, because actually sometimes, the old cook could be scary enough by herself. With that in mind, he picked up the heavy jug again and carried it a little precariously back into the cold room, heaving it up onto the shelf and only sloshing a little bit over himself as he did so. She’d never know
And if the Gods were kind, nor would their father. He wasn’t at home all the time, and it meant that there was often a very scant amount of time for Achilleas to try and show him all the things he learned. It was even worse when the man had some reason to get cross.
And Pyra had the potential to be one of those things. The older brother frowned as he considered the apple thing. “ I don’t think just giving them an apple will do it, Em. And the Leventi girls dont even count. They’re *always* around horses. They probably speak horse or something.
And he shook his head at the idea of going to the Leventi Lord for help. “I want to do it on my own. I shouldn’t *need* help Father will say” He sounded a little defeated as he said it, he still felt sore after the day’s tumbles and the idea of having to do it all over again in the morning wasn’t much fun.
Glancing back up at his little brother’s offer of a bargain, Achilleas wiped the crumbs off the table with his sleeve. “I won’t tell. You can’t help what you dream Emilios” he added as if it were obvious. He was brushing the crumbs off from his brother’s side too and then taking the cups away to put them very gingerly in the large stone sink so they didn’t clatter.
Pausing to make sure nothing else was left awry, he turned back to his little brother when he heard the sheepish request and reached out to shove him softly. “Of course stupid.” He’d caught the yawn though, and his next words were muffled “Jus’ don't start doing it every night. You snore louder than Father” He rubbed at his eyes and jerked his head towards the hallway. “C’mon then”
And with that, the pair of rather large Mikaelidas mice crept back through the halls of the manor, leaving no trace of their passing, save for a big dent in the honey cake.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Achilleas pulled a face at Emilios as he returned from dousing the fire, because actually sometimes, the old cook could be scary enough by herself. With that in mind, he picked up the heavy jug again and carried it a little precariously back into the cold room, heaving it up onto the shelf and only sloshing a little bit over himself as he did so. She’d never know
And if the Gods were kind, nor would their father. He wasn’t at home all the time, and it meant that there was often a very scant amount of time for Achilleas to try and show him all the things he learned. It was even worse when the man had some reason to get cross.
And Pyra had the potential to be one of those things. The older brother frowned as he considered the apple thing. “ I don’t think just giving them an apple will do it, Em. And the Leventi girls dont even count. They’re *always* around horses. They probably speak horse or something.
And he shook his head at the idea of going to the Leventi Lord for help. “I want to do it on my own. I shouldn’t *need* help Father will say” He sounded a little defeated as he said it, he still felt sore after the day’s tumbles and the idea of having to do it all over again in the morning wasn’t much fun.
Glancing back up at his little brother’s offer of a bargain, Achilleas wiped the crumbs off the table with his sleeve. “I won’t tell. You can’t help what you dream Emilios” he added as if it were obvious. He was brushing the crumbs off from his brother’s side too and then taking the cups away to put them very gingerly in the large stone sink so they didn’t clatter.
Pausing to make sure nothing else was left awry, he turned back to his little brother when he heard the sheepish request and reached out to shove him softly. “Of course stupid.” He’d caught the yawn though, and his next words were muffled “Jus’ don't start doing it every night. You snore louder than Father” He rubbed at his eyes and jerked his head towards the hallway. “C’mon then”
And with that, the pair of rather large Mikaelidas mice crept back through the halls of the manor, leaving no trace of their passing, save for a big dent in the honey cake.
Achilleas pulled a face at Emilios as he returned from dousing the fire, because actually sometimes, the old cook could be scary enough by herself. With that in mind, he picked up the heavy jug again and carried it a little precariously back into the cold room, heaving it up onto the shelf and only sloshing a little bit over himself as he did so. She’d never know
And if the Gods were kind, nor would their father. He wasn’t at home all the time, and it meant that there was often a very scant amount of time for Achilleas to try and show him all the things he learned. It was even worse when the man had some reason to get cross.
And Pyra had the potential to be one of those things. The older brother frowned as he considered the apple thing. “ I don’t think just giving them an apple will do it, Em. And the Leventi girls dont even count. They’re *always* around horses. They probably speak horse or something.
And he shook his head at the idea of going to the Leventi Lord for help. “I want to do it on my own. I shouldn’t *need* help Father will say” He sounded a little defeated as he said it, he still felt sore after the day’s tumbles and the idea of having to do it all over again in the morning wasn’t much fun.
Glancing back up at his little brother’s offer of a bargain, Achilleas wiped the crumbs off the table with his sleeve. “I won’t tell. You can’t help what you dream Emilios” he added as if it were obvious. He was brushing the crumbs off from his brother’s side too and then taking the cups away to put them very gingerly in the large stone sink so they didn’t clatter.
Pausing to make sure nothing else was left awry, he turned back to his little brother when he heard the sheepish request and reached out to shove him softly. “Of course stupid.” He’d caught the yawn though, and his next words were muffled “Jus’ don't start doing it every night. You snore louder than Father” He rubbed at his eyes and jerked his head towards the hallway. “C’mon then”
And with that, the pair of rather large Mikaelidas mice crept back through the halls of the manor, leaving no trace of their passing, save for a big dent in the honey cake.