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It was a summons he could have done without if he were being quite honest, and yet one that could not be ignored. Achilleas could, however, see the irony in the fact that he’d had to impose himself on his father’s mostly non existent good graces in order to have a conversation with him over the past weeks, and now? The eve of his wedding? Now the man decided he wanted to speak to his family.
With preparations for the next days celebrations underway at the Mikaelidas manor, it seemed hardly the most convenient moment for them all to congregate but when a King requested it, such things were not outwardly questioned. Indeed, would have been unlikely to have been questioned even before Irakles had assumed the throne. Even as Prince, his father had expected nothing but obedience from his family, whatever the request. This would be no different. He should not have been surprised either at the brusqueness of the message, no hints as to why they were being gathered together. Achilleas was hoping it was not just him that his father was being so close lipped with, but perhaps he would find out tonight.
He’d seen netiher hide nor hair of his brother since the reception for the Egyptians, which was unforgiveable really. He wanted to bring Emilios into his confidence regarding Stephanos. His brother counted their cousin a dear friend, and Achilleas would be surprised if Emilios had not had his own thoughts about how they might seek to clear his name.
Unsurprised to find his mother already in the solar room where they had been bid to present themselves, Achilleas cleared his mind of such thoughts and embraced her, pressing a kiss to her cheek. He felt a little guilty, truth be told, for he’d been avoiding her and the endless wedding questions, and chanched he had even been a little short with her when she’d last cornered him to ask about music of all things.
The elder of Myrto’s sons towered over her so she had to reach up as she went to push his hair off his face and Achilleas pulled back from the gesture, she still fussed as if he were a boy sometimes. “Mother” he admonished gently.
“I hope you will do something with this hair tomorrow, that is all” the woman said, not quite tutting, but making it so the gesture was not required to convey her feelings. His dark hair had a curl to it that made it unruly at times and it had long been a source of irritation to his mother.. Achilleas gave a quiet huff of laughter, and reassured her. “I swear. I’ll have Petros cut it.”
The solar was a bright and airy space, bordered down one side by large windows that looked over the garden. Light was fading gently from the day, but the night blossoms left their heady scent to soften the transition to dusk. As designed, the perfume drifted through into the chamber where the family would gather. Moving over to stand by the open shutters, Achilleas looked out to where the servants were tending already pristine grounds in light of the coming event.
“I don’t suppose you know why we have been so summoned?” He asked, not holding much hope. In fact, if anyone were less likely to be in father’s confidences, it was his sweet mother. They would just have to wait, it would seem.
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It was a summons he could have done without if he were being quite honest, and yet one that could not be ignored. Achilleas could, however, see the irony in the fact that he’d had to impose himself on his father’s mostly non existent good graces in order to have a conversation with him over the past weeks, and now? The eve of his wedding? Now the man decided he wanted to speak to his family.
With preparations for the next days celebrations underway at the Mikaelidas manor, it seemed hardly the most convenient moment for them all to congregate but when a King requested it, such things were not outwardly questioned. Indeed, would have been unlikely to have been questioned even before Irakles had assumed the throne. Even as Prince, his father had expected nothing but obedience from his family, whatever the request. This would be no different. He should not have been surprised either at the brusqueness of the message, no hints as to why they were being gathered together. Achilleas was hoping it was not just him that his father was being so close lipped with, but perhaps he would find out tonight.
He’d seen netiher hide nor hair of his brother since the reception for the Egyptians, which was unforgiveable really. He wanted to bring Emilios into his confidence regarding Stephanos. His brother counted their cousin a dear friend, and Achilleas would be surprised if Emilios had not had his own thoughts about how they might seek to clear his name.
Unsurprised to find his mother already in the solar room where they had been bid to present themselves, Achilleas cleared his mind of such thoughts and embraced her, pressing a kiss to her cheek. He felt a little guilty, truth be told, for he’d been avoiding her and the endless wedding questions, and chanched he had even been a little short with her when she’d last cornered him to ask about music of all things.
The elder of Myrto’s sons towered over her so she had to reach up as she went to push his hair off his face and Achilleas pulled back from the gesture, she still fussed as if he were a boy sometimes. “Mother” he admonished gently.
“I hope you will do something with this hair tomorrow, that is all” the woman said, not quite tutting, but making it so the gesture was not required to convey her feelings. His dark hair had a curl to it that made it unruly at times and it had long been a source of irritation to his mother.. Achilleas gave a quiet huff of laughter, and reassured her. “I swear. I’ll have Petros cut it.”
The solar was a bright and airy space, bordered down one side by large windows that looked over the garden. Light was fading gently from the day, but the night blossoms left their heady scent to soften the transition to dusk. As designed, the perfume drifted through into the chamber where the family would gather. Moving over to stand by the open shutters, Achilleas looked out to where the servants were tending already pristine grounds in light of the coming event.
“I don’t suppose you know why we have been so summoned?” He asked, not holding much hope. In fact, if anyone were less likely to be in father’s confidences, it was his sweet mother. They would just have to wait, it would seem.
It was a summons he could have done without if he were being quite honest, and yet one that could not be ignored. Achilleas could, however, see the irony in the fact that he’d had to impose himself on his father’s mostly non existent good graces in order to have a conversation with him over the past weeks, and now? The eve of his wedding? Now the man decided he wanted to speak to his family.
With preparations for the next days celebrations underway at the Mikaelidas manor, it seemed hardly the most convenient moment for them all to congregate but when a King requested it, such things were not outwardly questioned. Indeed, would have been unlikely to have been questioned even before Irakles had assumed the throne. Even as Prince, his father had expected nothing but obedience from his family, whatever the request. This would be no different. He should not have been surprised either at the brusqueness of the message, no hints as to why they were being gathered together. Achilleas was hoping it was not just him that his father was being so close lipped with, but perhaps he would find out tonight.
He’d seen netiher hide nor hair of his brother since the reception for the Egyptians, which was unforgiveable really. He wanted to bring Emilios into his confidence regarding Stephanos. His brother counted their cousin a dear friend, and Achilleas would be surprised if Emilios had not had his own thoughts about how they might seek to clear his name.
Unsurprised to find his mother already in the solar room where they had been bid to present themselves, Achilleas cleared his mind of such thoughts and embraced her, pressing a kiss to her cheek. He felt a little guilty, truth be told, for he’d been avoiding her and the endless wedding questions, and chanched he had even been a little short with her when she’d last cornered him to ask about music of all things.
The elder of Myrto’s sons towered over her so she had to reach up as she went to push his hair off his face and Achilleas pulled back from the gesture, she still fussed as if he were a boy sometimes. “Mother” he admonished gently.
“I hope you will do something with this hair tomorrow, that is all” the woman said, not quite tutting, but making it so the gesture was not required to convey her feelings. His dark hair had a curl to it that made it unruly at times and it had long been a source of irritation to his mother.. Achilleas gave a quiet huff of laughter, and reassured her. “I swear. I’ll have Petros cut it.”
The solar was a bright and airy space, bordered down one side by large windows that looked over the garden. Light was fading gently from the day, but the night blossoms left their heady scent to soften the transition to dusk. As designed, the perfume drifted through into the chamber where the family would gather. Moving over to stand by the open shutters, Achilleas looked out to where the servants were tending already pristine grounds in light of the coming event.
“I don’t suppose you know why we have been so summoned?” He asked, not holding much hope. In fact, if anyone were less likely to be in father’s confidences, it was his sweet mother. They would just have to wait, it would seem.
With a family large and widespread, Irakles somehow always ensured that he had his thumb on the vein of the family which he remained the Head of. Although technically, after a few days, Irakles figured he would no longer hold that mantle upon the coronation whereby he be made King, but as he had agreed to hold off the formal coronation, meant he could still retain the title of Head of the Mikaelidas household it seems. Yet that did not change the fact that he was now the King to their kingdom after the stunt Stephanos had pulled, which also meant that his two sons needed to be well aware of their status change, and what it meant for them all.
That the largest wedding for their family would be on the morrow mattered not to Irakles as he sent a missive to both his sons to meet him in the manor. Meena would be there with Tasia and Sara already, so a missive went there as well to inform Meena to ensure the meal was prepared for them and the girls be readied for the family affair. While he understood the servants were likely overworked with the amount of preparations needed for the wedding feast the next day, Irakles expected his orders fulfilled, and thought not of what troubles that may cause for the servants.
Dressed in a royal blue chiton trimmed with golden threads, the man arrived at the manor astride Aeneus, just as the sun had begun to cool, and the heat less painful on one's skin. Handing over the reins of the gelded warhorse to the staff, he strode in to the manor, expecting his sons to already be present, along with Myrto in tow. His wife had long since started staying in Euttica when he brought Meena to stay in the Mikaelidas residence, but Achilleas should know enough that when Irakles said everyone, he literally meant everyone.
To all he watched as he entered the dining room, he would look tired, but still kept his regal air about him. There was no mistaking the dark circles under his eyes, the extra wrinkles that now appeared, and the slight tired sloop in his shoulders. Sleep had eluded him as his chest tightened at night when he went over his plans, but he was a trucker, and Irakles would see them through.
"Get the family down." he instructed a servant, his words firm and direct. There had never been any beating around the bush with Irakles, and he couldn't start now. He had too much to do and not enough time, and if he wanted to get it all done, he needed to hurry.
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With a family large and widespread, Irakles somehow always ensured that he had his thumb on the vein of the family which he remained the Head of. Although technically, after a few days, Irakles figured he would no longer hold that mantle upon the coronation whereby he be made King, but as he had agreed to hold off the formal coronation, meant he could still retain the title of Head of the Mikaelidas household it seems. Yet that did not change the fact that he was now the King to their kingdom after the stunt Stephanos had pulled, which also meant that his two sons needed to be well aware of their status change, and what it meant for them all.
That the largest wedding for their family would be on the morrow mattered not to Irakles as he sent a missive to both his sons to meet him in the manor. Meena would be there with Tasia and Sara already, so a missive went there as well to inform Meena to ensure the meal was prepared for them and the girls be readied for the family affair. While he understood the servants were likely overworked with the amount of preparations needed for the wedding feast the next day, Irakles expected his orders fulfilled, and thought not of what troubles that may cause for the servants.
Dressed in a royal blue chiton trimmed with golden threads, the man arrived at the manor astride Aeneus, just as the sun had begun to cool, and the heat less painful on one's skin. Handing over the reins of the gelded warhorse to the staff, he strode in to the manor, expecting his sons to already be present, along with Myrto in tow. His wife had long since started staying in Euttica when he brought Meena to stay in the Mikaelidas residence, but Achilleas should know enough that when Irakles said everyone, he literally meant everyone.
To all he watched as he entered the dining room, he would look tired, but still kept his regal air about him. There was no mistaking the dark circles under his eyes, the extra wrinkles that now appeared, and the slight tired sloop in his shoulders. Sleep had eluded him as his chest tightened at night when he went over his plans, but he was a trucker, and Irakles would see them through.
"Get the family down." he instructed a servant, his words firm and direct. There had never been any beating around the bush with Irakles, and he couldn't start now. He had too much to do and not enough time, and if he wanted to get it all done, he needed to hurry.
With a family large and widespread, Irakles somehow always ensured that he had his thumb on the vein of the family which he remained the Head of. Although technically, after a few days, Irakles figured he would no longer hold that mantle upon the coronation whereby he be made King, but as he had agreed to hold off the formal coronation, meant he could still retain the title of Head of the Mikaelidas household it seems. Yet that did not change the fact that he was now the King to their kingdom after the stunt Stephanos had pulled, which also meant that his two sons needed to be well aware of their status change, and what it meant for them all.
That the largest wedding for their family would be on the morrow mattered not to Irakles as he sent a missive to both his sons to meet him in the manor. Meena would be there with Tasia and Sara already, so a missive went there as well to inform Meena to ensure the meal was prepared for them and the girls be readied for the family affair. While he understood the servants were likely overworked with the amount of preparations needed for the wedding feast the next day, Irakles expected his orders fulfilled, and thought not of what troubles that may cause for the servants.
Dressed in a royal blue chiton trimmed with golden threads, the man arrived at the manor astride Aeneus, just as the sun had begun to cool, and the heat less painful on one's skin. Handing over the reins of the gelded warhorse to the staff, he strode in to the manor, expecting his sons to already be present, along with Myrto in tow. His wife had long since started staying in Euttica when he brought Meena to stay in the Mikaelidas residence, but Achilleas should know enough that when Irakles said everyone, he literally meant everyone.
To all he watched as he entered the dining room, he would look tired, but still kept his regal air about him. There was no mistaking the dark circles under his eyes, the extra wrinkles that now appeared, and the slight tired sloop in his shoulders. Sleep had eluded him as his chest tightened at night when he went over his plans, but he was a trucker, and Irakles would see them through.
"Get the family down." he instructed a servant, his words firm and direct. There had never been any beating around the bush with Irakles, and he couldn't start now. He had too much to do and not enough time, and if he wanted to get it all done, he needed to hurry.
The youngest boy of the clan, Emilios had never really been one for responsibility. And he had made it known to anyone who asked-- Achilleas was the good one and he was the one who had fun. It was a fitting match, one he wasn’t about to change that simply because he was now a prince, too.
But the new title, albeit one in name only, had been the reason he had put aside his usual ways to do something other than whoring around. The Prince Emilios had never wanted to be a prince. And now, he found himself trying to figure out what had happened to the man who had been standing between him and that title in the first place. King Stephanos had vanished the night of the Eqyptain gathering, hadn’t even told his best friend what his intentions were with that night.
Why had he invited them in the first place was a mystery. But that wasn’t the one he wanted to solve.
No, Emilios had been searching for any signs of the location of his cousin. It didn’t take him long to follow the gossip of the docks. While no one had been sure of what they’d seen, there had been whispers of two men and a woman boarding a Colchian ship. And some would even dare to say that one of them was the Queen herself, actively in labor. But he couldn’t confirm any of these rumors. And it seemed that Alastair, the Queen’s guard, was working on quieting them anyway.
”The less they spread, the more likely it is that they stay alive.” He had told Emilios, and frankly there was little desire to go against the man. He may have been a cripple, but Emilios had seen him quickly end the life of someone who swore it was the Queen, King and her sister boarding a ship belonging to the Prince of Colchis. So, the man took hope in that they were, in fact, safe in Colchis and not dead by the same hand who had killed his Uncle and crowned prince cousin.
This helped him pretend like the wedding wasn’t even happening. Sure, he was in charge of most of the plans. But with his father having given him most of the responsibility to the household, he was able to delegate most of that to other people. And his mother seemed more than willing to take over, once he had mentioned that there was so much to still be done. Now, with the invitation from his father demanding one last meal, Emilios was at least glad that Theodora wouldn’t be there.
One more day, and then he could breathe.
The youngest son was coming down from his rooms just as their father walked through the door. Pausing so not to be seen, the man adjusted the fit of his deep red chiton, flipping the leather cuffs on his wrist to sit properly before making he was behind him. And yet, he avoided the man, instead moving to the room he expected the rest of the family to be in. And, sure enough, his mother and brother were in the solar. Grinning, he made his way to his mother’s side, pressing a kiss to her cheek with a sweet. ‘My Queen’, before focusing on his brother. ”You are cutting your hair before the ceremony, yes? Can’t imagine the lady Theodora being okay with that look.”
He hid his pain well.
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The youngest boy of the clan, Emilios had never really been one for responsibility. And he had made it known to anyone who asked-- Achilleas was the good one and he was the one who had fun. It was a fitting match, one he wasn’t about to change that simply because he was now a prince, too.
But the new title, albeit one in name only, had been the reason he had put aside his usual ways to do something other than whoring around. The Prince Emilios had never wanted to be a prince. And now, he found himself trying to figure out what had happened to the man who had been standing between him and that title in the first place. King Stephanos had vanished the night of the Eqyptain gathering, hadn’t even told his best friend what his intentions were with that night.
Why had he invited them in the first place was a mystery. But that wasn’t the one he wanted to solve.
No, Emilios had been searching for any signs of the location of his cousin. It didn’t take him long to follow the gossip of the docks. While no one had been sure of what they’d seen, there had been whispers of two men and a woman boarding a Colchian ship. And some would even dare to say that one of them was the Queen herself, actively in labor. But he couldn’t confirm any of these rumors. And it seemed that Alastair, the Queen’s guard, was working on quieting them anyway.
”The less they spread, the more likely it is that they stay alive.” He had told Emilios, and frankly there was little desire to go against the man. He may have been a cripple, but Emilios had seen him quickly end the life of someone who swore it was the Queen, King and her sister boarding a ship belonging to the Prince of Colchis. So, the man took hope in that they were, in fact, safe in Colchis and not dead by the same hand who had killed his Uncle and crowned prince cousin.
This helped him pretend like the wedding wasn’t even happening. Sure, he was in charge of most of the plans. But with his father having given him most of the responsibility to the household, he was able to delegate most of that to other people. And his mother seemed more than willing to take over, once he had mentioned that there was so much to still be done. Now, with the invitation from his father demanding one last meal, Emilios was at least glad that Theodora wouldn’t be there.
One more day, and then he could breathe.
The youngest son was coming down from his rooms just as their father walked through the door. Pausing so not to be seen, the man adjusted the fit of his deep red chiton, flipping the leather cuffs on his wrist to sit properly before making he was behind him. And yet, he avoided the man, instead moving to the room he expected the rest of the family to be in. And, sure enough, his mother and brother were in the solar. Grinning, he made his way to his mother’s side, pressing a kiss to her cheek with a sweet. ‘My Queen’, before focusing on his brother. ”You are cutting your hair before the ceremony, yes? Can’t imagine the lady Theodora being okay with that look.”
He hid his pain well.
The youngest boy of the clan, Emilios had never really been one for responsibility. And he had made it known to anyone who asked-- Achilleas was the good one and he was the one who had fun. It was a fitting match, one he wasn’t about to change that simply because he was now a prince, too.
But the new title, albeit one in name only, had been the reason he had put aside his usual ways to do something other than whoring around. The Prince Emilios had never wanted to be a prince. And now, he found himself trying to figure out what had happened to the man who had been standing between him and that title in the first place. King Stephanos had vanished the night of the Eqyptain gathering, hadn’t even told his best friend what his intentions were with that night.
Why had he invited them in the first place was a mystery. But that wasn’t the one he wanted to solve.
No, Emilios had been searching for any signs of the location of his cousin. It didn’t take him long to follow the gossip of the docks. While no one had been sure of what they’d seen, there had been whispers of two men and a woman boarding a Colchian ship. And some would even dare to say that one of them was the Queen herself, actively in labor. But he couldn’t confirm any of these rumors. And it seemed that Alastair, the Queen’s guard, was working on quieting them anyway.
”The less they spread, the more likely it is that they stay alive.” He had told Emilios, and frankly there was little desire to go against the man. He may have been a cripple, but Emilios had seen him quickly end the life of someone who swore it was the Queen, King and her sister boarding a ship belonging to the Prince of Colchis. So, the man took hope in that they were, in fact, safe in Colchis and not dead by the same hand who had killed his Uncle and crowned prince cousin.
This helped him pretend like the wedding wasn’t even happening. Sure, he was in charge of most of the plans. But with his father having given him most of the responsibility to the household, he was able to delegate most of that to other people. And his mother seemed more than willing to take over, once he had mentioned that there was so much to still be done. Now, with the invitation from his father demanding one last meal, Emilios was at least glad that Theodora wouldn’t be there.
One more day, and then he could breathe.
The youngest son was coming down from his rooms just as their father walked through the door. Pausing so not to be seen, the man adjusted the fit of his deep red chiton, flipping the leather cuffs on his wrist to sit properly before making he was behind him. And yet, he avoided the man, instead moving to the room he expected the rest of the family to be in. And, sure enough, his mother and brother were in the solar. Grinning, he made his way to his mother’s side, pressing a kiss to her cheek with a sweet. ‘My Queen’, before focusing on his brother. ”You are cutting your hair before the ceremony, yes? Can’t imagine the lady Theodora being okay with that look.”
He hid his pain well.
Tasia had spent the day shopping and as soon as she got home, she had been informed that the entire family would be having dinner together. This pleased her, as she would have an opportunity to impress her father. He continued to be distant with her, but she was as determined that he become fond of her. She could enchant the new King if he just gave her the chance. And she could be useful to him as well. She was willing to do almost anything for her family, and whatever he asked of her would be done without question, no matter how deceitful it might be.
The impromptu meeting had most likely been called to discuss last minute plans for Achilleas' wedding tomorrow. She wondered if her half-brother was nervous. Tasia wasn't very close to either him or Emilios, another situation she wished to remedy. To her knowledge, his marriage to Theodora of Leventi was a political arrangement and not one of love, but she doubted he would complain about wedding such a beautiful woman.
The handmaiden who always arranged her hair had just completed her elaborate coiffure when a servant entered and announced that her father was waiting for his family. Smiling into her mirror, she twirled around once and then headed toward the dining room, which seemed like the most logical place to gather. Surprisingly enough, she was the first one to arrive. Generally she liked to be fashionably late so that all eyes would be on her when she entered a room. However,a bit of time alone with her father could work in her favor.
He appeared quite regal in a royal blue chiton, but he looked as if he hadn't slept in weeks by the dark circles under his eyes and his slightly stooped shoulders. A sudden wave of uncharacteristic tenderness washed over her. The impending wedding combined with his duties as King seemed to be taking a lot out of him and she wished she could help him in some way.
“Good evening, Your Majesty,” she said as she approached him and curtsied prettily. “I am glad I am the first to join you"
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Tasia had spent the day shopping and as soon as she got home, she had been informed that the entire family would be having dinner together. This pleased her, as she would have an opportunity to impress her father. He continued to be distant with her, but she was as determined that he become fond of her. She could enchant the new King if he just gave her the chance. And she could be useful to him as well. She was willing to do almost anything for her family, and whatever he asked of her would be done without question, no matter how deceitful it might be.
The impromptu meeting had most likely been called to discuss last minute plans for Achilleas' wedding tomorrow. She wondered if her half-brother was nervous. Tasia wasn't very close to either him or Emilios, another situation she wished to remedy. To her knowledge, his marriage to Theodora of Leventi was a political arrangement and not one of love, but she doubted he would complain about wedding such a beautiful woman.
The handmaiden who always arranged her hair had just completed her elaborate coiffure when a servant entered and announced that her father was waiting for his family. Smiling into her mirror, she twirled around once and then headed toward the dining room, which seemed like the most logical place to gather. Surprisingly enough, she was the first one to arrive. Generally she liked to be fashionably late so that all eyes would be on her when she entered a room. However,a bit of time alone with her father could work in her favor.
He appeared quite regal in a royal blue chiton, but he looked as if he hadn't slept in weeks by the dark circles under his eyes and his slightly stooped shoulders. A sudden wave of uncharacteristic tenderness washed over her. The impending wedding combined with his duties as King seemed to be taking a lot out of him and she wished she could help him in some way.
“Good evening, Your Majesty,” she said as she approached him and curtsied prettily. “I am glad I am the first to join you"
Tasia had spent the day shopping and as soon as she got home, she had been informed that the entire family would be having dinner together. This pleased her, as she would have an opportunity to impress her father. He continued to be distant with her, but she was as determined that he become fond of her. She could enchant the new King if he just gave her the chance. And she could be useful to him as well. She was willing to do almost anything for her family, and whatever he asked of her would be done without question, no matter how deceitful it might be.
The impromptu meeting had most likely been called to discuss last minute plans for Achilleas' wedding tomorrow. She wondered if her half-brother was nervous. Tasia wasn't very close to either him or Emilios, another situation she wished to remedy. To her knowledge, his marriage to Theodora of Leventi was a political arrangement and not one of love, but she doubted he would complain about wedding such a beautiful woman.
The handmaiden who always arranged her hair had just completed her elaborate coiffure when a servant entered and announced that her father was waiting for his family. Smiling into her mirror, she twirled around once and then headed toward the dining room, which seemed like the most logical place to gather. Surprisingly enough, she was the first one to arrive. Generally she liked to be fashionably late so that all eyes would be on her when she entered a room. However,a bit of time alone with her father could work in her favor.
He appeared quite regal in a royal blue chiton, but he looked as if he hadn't slept in weeks by the dark circles under his eyes and his slightly stooped shoulders. A sudden wave of uncharacteristic tenderness washed over her. The impending wedding combined with his duties as King seemed to be taking a lot out of him and she wished she could help him in some way.
“Good evening, Your Majesty,” she said as she approached him and curtsied prettily. “I am glad I am the first to join you"
Any musings as to the nature of this impromptu family gathering were set aside as Emilios swept into the room, and Achilleas narrowed his gaze at the man, wondering if he had been eavesdropping outside of the door long enough to pick up on the fuss about his hair or if it really was in such a state. He pushed a hand back through it self consciously. “Gods. I’ll have it cut. Though I’m certain there must be bettter things for you all to your concern yourself with than my hair”
Despite the mostly feigned annoyance, Achilleas embraced his brother briefly, releasing the clasp he’d taken of Emilios’ shoulder as he stepped back, just in time for the male servant to step into the solar room where the brothers and Myrto waited.
“His majesty requests you join him in the dining room, your highnesses, my Queen” The man gave a low bow but swept an arm out for the family to precede him. Achilleas frowned a little, the titles were still alien and unwelcome, given the nature of their claiming. He had still not had opportunity to speak with Emilios of all that he had learned, and thought he might try after they had eaten and whatever their father had gathered them for had been discharged. Even so, the expression of disatisfaction was there fleetingly only, having been smoothed away before he turned to his Mother to offer her his arm.
There was a shared feeling of unease between them all perhaps, because it was unusual in the extreme for them all to be brought together thusly. Not least because of the inevitable strain of having Myrto and Meena in the same room. Indeed, it was one of Irakle’s shared daughters with the woman who waited with the King in the dining room, and offering his father a slight bow, Achilleas diplomatically steered his mother down to the opposite end of the table. He drew out a seat for her and saw her settled, leaving it to Emilios to make small talk with Tasia and their father.
His hope was that the King had called them all together to finally speak frankly with them, his own family, about the results of the political manouvrings he had excluded them all from. Or at least Achilleas assumed he had excluded them all, and it had not just been him. He knew it was a reaction to that show of loyalty towards his cousin, that he should not be surprised, but it was less than gratifying to be kept at arm’s length whilst his father made moves that would affect all of them in one way or another.
It had been humbling indeed to have to seek information from his cousin Gavriil of Dimitrou pertaining to his own future. And he still did not know what was to become of his barony, the home he held in Euttica that he intended to take Theodora back to tomorrow. Accepting a glass of wine offered by one of the house servants, Achilleas glanced toward his father and thought he looked weary.
Well. Achilleas had offered help, both his and his brother’s and it had been summarily rejected. If the man sought to run himself into the ground rather than trust his own family to assist him then perhaps it spoke more towards the regard that he held them in, a theory that only let credence to the idea that Irakles had at least not done as much as he could to help Stephanos, if not been actively working to undermine his nephew. The thought had Achilleas divert his gaze, made the wine taste bitter. He still did not want to believe it of his own father.
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Any musings as to the nature of this impromptu family gathering were set aside as Emilios swept into the room, and Achilleas narrowed his gaze at the man, wondering if he had been eavesdropping outside of the door long enough to pick up on the fuss about his hair or if it really was in such a state. He pushed a hand back through it self consciously. “Gods. I’ll have it cut. Though I’m certain there must be bettter things for you all to your concern yourself with than my hair”
Despite the mostly feigned annoyance, Achilleas embraced his brother briefly, releasing the clasp he’d taken of Emilios’ shoulder as he stepped back, just in time for the male servant to step into the solar room where the brothers and Myrto waited.
“His majesty requests you join him in the dining room, your highnesses, my Queen” The man gave a low bow but swept an arm out for the family to precede him. Achilleas frowned a little, the titles were still alien and unwelcome, given the nature of their claiming. He had still not had opportunity to speak with Emilios of all that he had learned, and thought he might try after they had eaten and whatever their father had gathered them for had been discharged. Even so, the expression of disatisfaction was there fleetingly only, having been smoothed away before he turned to his Mother to offer her his arm.
There was a shared feeling of unease between them all perhaps, because it was unusual in the extreme for them all to be brought together thusly. Not least because of the inevitable strain of having Myrto and Meena in the same room. Indeed, it was one of Irakle’s shared daughters with the woman who waited with the King in the dining room, and offering his father a slight bow, Achilleas diplomatically steered his mother down to the opposite end of the table. He drew out a seat for her and saw her settled, leaving it to Emilios to make small talk with Tasia and their father.
His hope was that the King had called them all together to finally speak frankly with them, his own family, about the results of the political manouvrings he had excluded them all from. Or at least Achilleas assumed he had excluded them all, and it had not just been him. He knew it was a reaction to that show of loyalty towards his cousin, that he should not be surprised, but it was less than gratifying to be kept at arm’s length whilst his father made moves that would affect all of them in one way or another.
It had been humbling indeed to have to seek information from his cousin Gavriil of Dimitrou pertaining to his own future. And he still did not know what was to become of his barony, the home he held in Euttica that he intended to take Theodora back to tomorrow. Accepting a glass of wine offered by one of the house servants, Achilleas glanced toward his father and thought he looked weary.
Well. Achilleas had offered help, both his and his brother’s and it had been summarily rejected. If the man sought to run himself into the ground rather than trust his own family to assist him then perhaps it spoke more towards the regard that he held them in, a theory that only let credence to the idea that Irakles had at least not done as much as he could to help Stephanos, if not been actively working to undermine his nephew. The thought had Achilleas divert his gaze, made the wine taste bitter. He still did not want to believe it of his own father.
Any musings as to the nature of this impromptu family gathering were set aside as Emilios swept into the room, and Achilleas narrowed his gaze at the man, wondering if he had been eavesdropping outside of the door long enough to pick up on the fuss about his hair or if it really was in such a state. He pushed a hand back through it self consciously. “Gods. I’ll have it cut. Though I’m certain there must be bettter things for you all to your concern yourself with than my hair”
Despite the mostly feigned annoyance, Achilleas embraced his brother briefly, releasing the clasp he’d taken of Emilios’ shoulder as he stepped back, just in time for the male servant to step into the solar room where the brothers and Myrto waited.
“His majesty requests you join him in the dining room, your highnesses, my Queen” The man gave a low bow but swept an arm out for the family to precede him. Achilleas frowned a little, the titles were still alien and unwelcome, given the nature of their claiming. He had still not had opportunity to speak with Emilios of all that he had learned, and thought he might try after they had eaten and whatever their father had gathered them for had been discharged. Even so, the expression of disatisfaction was there fleetingly only, having been smoothed away before he turned to his Mother to offer her his arm.
There was a shared feeling of unease between them all perhaps, because it was unusual in the extreme for them all to be brought together thusly. Not least because of the inevitable strain of having Myrto and Meena in the same room. Indeed, it was one of Irakle’s shared daughters with the woman who waited with the King in the dining room, and offering his father a slight bow, Achilleas diplomatically steered his mother down to the opposite end of the table. He drew out a seat for her and saw her settled, leaving it to Emilios to make small talk with Tasia and their father.
His hope was that the King had called them all together to finally speak frankly with them, his own family, about the results of the political manouvrings he had excluded them all from. Or at least Achilleas assumed he had excluded them all, and it had not just been him. He knew it was a reaction to that show of loyalty towards his cousin, that he should not be surprised, but it was less than gratifying to be kept at arm’s length whilst his father made moves that would affect all of them in one way or another.
It had been humbling indeed to have to seek information from his cousin Gavriil of Dimitrou pertaining to his own future. And he still did not know what was to become of his barony, the home he held in Euttica that he intended to take Theodora back to tomorrow. Accepting a glass of wine offered by one of the house servants, Achilleas glanced toward his father and thought he looked weary.
Well. Achilleas had offered help, both his and his brother’s and it had been summarily rejected. If the man sought to run himself into the ground rather than trust his own family to assist him then perhaps it spoke more towards the regard that he held them in, a theory that only let credence to the idea that Irakles had at least not done as much as he could to help Stephanos, if not been actively working to undermine his nephew. The thought had Achilleas divert his gaze, made the wine taste bitter. He still did not want to believe it of his own father.
He was not a patient man - Irakles never was. So as his family trickled in, the only recognition that Irakles gave was merely a glance, before he returned to staring intently at the entryway, as if by doing so it would bring them quicker in. But his antsy demeanour today was far from usual, and it could only be due to the fact that the man had only recently received the news for them that would change the course of all their lives.
Or well, one could hardly call it 'news', since he largely orchestrated all that had happened in Taengea, but he certainly did not count on Stephanos's childish actions to quicken his plans.
That Stephanos had fled Taengea was not yet common knowledge, for Irakles had deemed it necessary to keep the situation below wraps at least until he had the chance to meet with the rest of the Heads of royal houses in Taengea. Now that they had come to a conclusion however, his sons and wife, as well as daughters and mistress, needed to be further reminded that they were no longer just nobles of a royal house. They were now the royal family, and Irakles expected them to behave as such, no exceptions made. Emilios and Achilleas were expected to aid him in his search for the wayward and ostracized former, young King of Taengea of course, but his wife and Meena would have far more duties to do as they usually did as well, for they were no longer tied to a simple Prince.
To his surprise, it was Tasia who entered first, for he knew of his daughter to always make a dramatic - and late, entrance. But for her to enter without Meena surprised Irakles, although he did not let it show. Instead, he simply raised a brow when he approached him, but made no move to answer, and only waved a hand to signify for her to take a seat. His eldest daughter was a picture of her mother, and like Meena, Tasia was proving useful in court, and very adept at learning from her mother. But it was out of character for Irakles to lavish praise, and if Achilleas had yet to get enough to solidify his confidence, there was little chance for Tasia to get any.
Watching as Achilleas brought in Myrto, with his second son trailing behind, again it was the same pair of eyes which followed their entrance, acknowledging but not returning their greeting. Part of it was the weariness he felt, for Irakles tired easily, although he wrote it off as his age catching up to him, but whatever it was, he wanted to save the energy. They all had a long day ahead of them tomorrow afterall.
Waiting till Meena finally entered, with Sara in tow, the only one his gaze lingered longer on was on Sara's shy and quiet visage, watching as Meena took a seat next to Tasia, with the youngest of his brood seated at the end, before he finally cleared his throat, waiting for the servants to finish serving the wine to all before he spoke.
"I'm sure you have all heard of the news," he started, not at alll needing to remind everyone what the news was. Instead, he turned to Achilleas and Emilios as he continued. "I need not remind you that you are both princes, Achilleas even more so as Crown Prince, and I expect you to behave summarily on the morrow. It would be your first public appearance - all our first public appearances, and I want it to be flawless." There was no question if he was understood, it wasn't a choice. Turning to Meena, he reminded her and the daughters at the same time. "When we return from the temples, the manor should be well prepped to receive all our guests. Nobles and barons from far in Taengea are coming, and you represent the Mikaelidas house as well, so I expect nothing less."
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He was not a patient man - Irakles never was. So as his family trickled in, the only recognition that Irakles gave was merely a glance, before he returned to staring intently at the entryway, as if by doing so it would bring them quicker in. But his antsy demeanour today was far from usual, and it could only be due to the fact that the man had only recently received the news for them that would change the course of all their lives.
Or well, one could hardly call it 'news', since he largely orchestrated all that had happened in Taengea, but he certainly did not count on Stephanos's childish actions to quicken his plans.
That Stephanos had fled Taengea was not yet common knowledge, for Irakles had deemed it necessary to keep the situation below wraps at least until he had the chance to meet with the rest of the Heads of royal houses in Taengea. Now that they had come to a conclusion however, his sons and wife, as well as daughters and mistress, needed to be further reminded that they were no longer just nobles of a royal house. They were now the royal family, and Irakles expected them to behave as such, no exceptions made. Emilios and Achilleas were expected to aid him in his search for the wayward and ostracized former, young King of Taengea of course, but his wife and Meena would have far more duties to do as they usually did as well, for they were no longer tied to a simple Prince.
To his surprise, it was Tasia who entered first, for he knew of his daughter to always make a dramatic - and late, entrance. But for her to enter without Meena surprised Irakles, although he did not let it show. Instead, he simply raised a brow when he approached him, but made no move to answer, and only waved a hand to signify for her to take a seat. His eldest daughter was a picture of her mother, and like Meena, Tasia was proving useful in court, and very adept at learning from her mother. But it was out of character for Irakles to lavish praise, and if Achilleas had yet to get enough to solidify his confidence, there was little chance for Tasia to get any.
Watching as Achilleas brought in Myrto, with his second son trailing behind, again it was the same pair of eyes which followed their entrance, acknowledging but not returning their greeting. Part of it was the weariness he felt, for Irakles tired easily, although he wrote it off as his age catching up to him, but whatever it was, he wanted to save the energy. They all had a long day ahead of them tomorrow afterall.
Waiting till Meena finally entered, with Sara in tow, the only one his gaze lingered longer on was on Sara's shy and quiet visage, watching as Meena took a seat next to Tasia, with the youngest of his brood seated at the end, before he finally cleared his throat, waiting for the servants to finish serving the wine to all before he spoke.
"I'm sure you have all heard of the news," he started, not at alll needing to remind everyone what the news was. Instead, he turned to Achilleas and Emilios as he continued. "I need not remind you that you are both princes, Achilleas even more so as Crown Prince, and I expect you to behave summarily on the morrow. It would be your first public appearance - all our first public appearances, and I want it to be flawless." There was no question if he was understood, it wasn't a choice. Turning to Meena, he reminded her and the daughters at the same time. "When we return from the temples, the manor should be well prepped to receive all our guests. Nobles and barons from far in Taengea are coming, and you represent the Mikaelidas house as well, so I expect nothing less."
He was not a patient man - Irakles never was. So as his family trickled in, the only recognition that Irakles gave was merely a glance, before he returned to staring intently at the entryway, as if by doing so it would bring them quicker in. But his antsy demeanour today was far from usual, and it could only be due to the fact that the man had only recently received the news for them that would change the course of all their lives.
Or well, one could hardly call it 'news', since he largely orchestrated all that had happened in Taengea, but he certainly did not count on Stephanos's childish actions to quicken his plans.
That Stephanos had fled Taengea was not yet common knowledge, for Irakles had deemed it necessary to keep the situation below wraps at least until he had the chance to meet with the rest of the Heads of royal houses in Taengea. Now that they had come to a conclusion however, his sons and wife, as well as daughters and mistress, needed to be further reminded that they were no longer just nobles of a royal house. They were now the royal family, and Irakles expected them to behave as such, no exceptions made. Emilios and Achilleas were expected to aid him in his search for the wayward and ostracized former, young King of Taengea of course, but his wife and Meena would have far more duties to do as they usually did as well, for they were no longer tied to a simple Prince.
To his surprise, it was Tasia who entered first, for he knew of his daughter to always make a dramatic - and late, entrance. But for her to enter without Meena surprised Irakles, although he did not let it show. Instead, he simply raised a brow when he approached him, but made no move to answer, and only waved a hand to signify for her to take a seat. His eldest daughter was a picture of her mother, and like Meena, Tasia was proving useful in court, and very adept at learning from her mother. But it was out of character for Irakles to lavish praise, and if Achilleas had yet to get enough to solidify his confidence, there was little chance for Tasia to get any.
Watching as Achilleas brought in Myrto, with his second son trailing behind, again it was the same pair of eyes which followed their entrance, acknowledging but not returning their greeting. Part of it was the weariness he felt, for Irakles tired easily, although he wrote it off as his age catching up to him, but whatever it was, he wanted to save the energy. They all had a long day ahead of them tomorrow afterall.
Waiting till Meena finally entered, with Sara in tow, the only one his gaze lingered longer on was on Sara's shy and quiet visage, watching as Meena took a seat next to Tasia, with the youngest of his brood seated at the end, before he finally cleared his throat, waiting for the servants to finish serving the wine to all before he spoke.
"I'm sure you have all heard of the news," he started, not at alll needing to remind everyone what the news was. Instead, he turned to Achilleas and Emilios as he continued. "I need not remind you that you are both princes, Achilleas even more so as Crown Prince, and I expect you to behave summarily on the morrow. It would be your first public appearance - all our first public appearances, and I want it to be flawless." There was no question if he was understood, it wasn't a choice. Turning to Meena, he reminded her and the daughters at the same time. "When we return from the temples, the manor should be well prepped to receive all our guests. Nobles and barons from far in Taengea are coming, and you represent the Mikaelidas house as well, so I expect nothing less."
He grinned at his brother, almost making a comment about his hair being so horrible that it was just noticeable. But he refrained. Instead, the steward came in to announce that the king was waiting on his family in the dining room. But the words had been ‘your highnesses’, and that just felt weird. He was not a fan of the title, nor did he like what it meant for him.
It meant that Stephanos was gone, that his place in the line of succession was all but erased. His cousin, wife and child were on the run for their lives, label with treason as their crime. They would never be able to return under his father’s reign, and would most likely spend most of his life without anything but the kindness of others. It was not a life he wished on anyone, most certainly not on his closest friend. Having the title of ‘prince’ meant that he was betraying him, even if he couldn’t do anything about it himself.
Emilios allowed his brother to lead the way, as was the way of things. He trailed behind, deep in thought about the day ahead. One more day of staying away, of making sure that his brother wed the woman he loved. Then, perhaps, he would be able to try and move past it and find happiness. He wanted her, so much he felt his soul shatter silently in his chest. But he would have a hard time convincing her to come back to him. She felt everything just as strongly as he did, and her anger burned hot.
He followed his brother’s example and bowed to their father as they entered the room, keeping his face fairly neutral as he took his seat by his half sister. Giving her a smile, fake as she was, ”Tasia, lovely as ever.” he commented, playing nice given the company. He held no affection for the eldest of his father’s bastards. Hell, he was angry they were even within the same house as his own mother. She was a saint, he decided as Meena and Sara entered. Watching her husband openly keep a mistress was disheartening, and gave the wrong message to the people. But he wasn’t King, and it wasn’t his place to say anything.
Even if he wanted to kick Meena to the curb as soon as he was able.
He did wink at Sara, the one he happened to be fond of. And was rewarded with a small giggle from her. He took his offered wine, sipping on it unusually out of character for the prince. But he had vowed to be sober for tomorrow, to steel his resolve in the marriage. His father didn’t wait long to speak, nothing in which he said being news for the family. ”Of course. Everything is already in place. Nothing should go wrong, I think. Not unless Achilleas doesn’t do something about that hair.” He said, giving a playful jab at his brother across the table.
Myrto gave him a look, one that told him to hush. He smiled at his mother, looking back to his brother. ”I am just saying-- you’ll need a trim to look the part of crown prince and husband.”
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He grinned at his brother, almost making a comment about his hair being so horrible that it was just noticeable. But he refrained. Instead, the steward came in to announce that the king was waiting on his family in the dining room. But the words had been ‘your highnesses’, and that just felt weird. He was not a fan of the title, nor did he like what it meant for him.
It meant that Stephanos was gone, that his place in the line of succession was all but erased. His cousin, wife and child were on the run for their lives, label with treason as their crime. They would never be able to return under his father’s reign, and would most likely spend most of his life without anything but the kindness of others. It was not a life he wished on anyone, most certainly not on his closest friend. Having the title of ‘prince’ meant that he was betraying him, even if he couldn’t do anything about it himself.
Emilios allowed his brother to lead the way, as was the way of things. He trailed behind, deep in thought about the day ahead. One more day of staying away, of making sure that his brother wed the woman he loved. Then, perhaps, he would be able to try and move past it and find happiness. He wanted her, so much he felt his soul shatter silently in his chest. But he would have a hard time convincing her to come back to him. She felt everything just as strongly as he did, and her anger burned hot.
He followed his brother’s example and bowed to their father as they entered the room, keeping his face fairly neutral as he took his seat by his half sister. Giving her a smile, fake as she was, ”Tasia, lovely as ever.” he commented, playing nice given the company. He held no affection for the eldest of his father’s bastards. Hell, he was angry they were even within the same house as his own mother. She was a saint, he decided as Meena and Sara entered. Watching her husband openly keep a mistress was disheartening, and gave the wrong message to the people. But he wasn’t King, and it wasn’t his place to say anything.
Even if he wanted to kick Meena to the curb as soon as he was able.
He did wink at Sara, the one he happened to be fond of. And was rewarded with a small giggle from her. He took his offered wine, sipping on it unusually out of character for the prince. But he had vowed to be sober for tomorrow, to steel his resolve in the marriage. His father didn’t wait long to speak, nothing in which he said being news for the family. ”Of course. Everything is already in place. Nothing should go wrong, I think. Not unless Achilleas doesn’t do something about that hair.” He said, giving a playful jab at his brother across the table.
Myrto gave him a look, one that told him to hush. He smiled at his mother, looking back to his brother. ”I am just saying-- you’ll need a trim to look the part of crown prince and husband.”
He grinned at his brother, almost making a comment about his hair being so horrible that it was just noticeable. But he refrained. Instead, the steward came in to announce that the king was waiting on his family in the dining room. But the words had been ‘your highnesses’, and that just felt weird. He was not a fan of the title, nor did he like what it meant for him.
It meant that Stephanos was gone, that his place in the line of succession was all but erased. His cousin, wife and child were on the run for their lives, label with treason as their crime. They would never be able to return under his father’s reign, and would most likely spend most of his life without anything but the kindness of others. It was not a life he wished on anyone, most certainly not on his closest friend. Having the title of ‘prince’ meant that he was betraying him, even if he couldn’t do anything about it himself.
Emilios allowed his brother to lead the way, as was the way of things. He trailed behind, deep in thought about the day ahead. One more day of staying away, of making sure that his brother wed the woman he loved. Then, perhaps, he would be able to try and move past it and find happiness. He wanted her, so much he felt his soul shatter silently in his chest. But he would have a hard time convincing her to come back to him. She felt everything just as strongly as he did, and her anger burned hot.
He followed his brother’s example and bowed to their father as they entered the room, keeping his face fairly neutral as he took his seat by his half sister. Giving her a smile, fake as she was, ”Tasia, lovely as ever.” he commented, playing nice given the company. He held no affection for the eldest of his father’s bastards. Hell, he was angry they were even within the same house as his own mother. She was a saint, he decided as Meena and Sara entered. Watching her husband openly keep a mistress was disheartening, and gave the wrong message to the people. But he wasn’t King, and it wasn’t his place to say anything.
Even if he wanted to kick Meena to the curb as soon as he was able.
He did wink at Sara, the one he happened to be fond of. And was rewarded with a small giggle from her. He took his offered wine, sipping on it unusually out of character for the prince. But he had vowed to be sober for tomorrow, to steel his resolve in the marriage. His father didn’t wait long to speak, nothing in which he said being news for the family. ”Of course. Everything is already in place. Nothing should go wrong, I think. Not unless Achilleas doesn’t do something about that hair.” He said, giving a playful jab at his brother across the table.
Myrto gave him a look, one that told him to hush. He smiled at his mother, looking back to his brother. ”I am just saying-- you’ll need a trim to look the part of crown prince and husband.”
Achilleas accepted a cup of wine from the servant, watched with only passing interest the manner in which his father dismissed Tasia, and then averted his gaze entirely as Meena entered the room with the younger of her two daughters. He had still not been able to scrub the memory of their last encounter from his mind, and whilst he was fairly certain she had not mentioned it to his father it was still a less than comfortable memory.
There was a certain level of acquaintance that he and Meena had grown used to operating on, and he had stressed it by even seeking her out at all. Getting an eyeful of his father’s mistress in all her glory had smashed it into smithereens. Achilleas had not even spoken of it to Emilios, because he did not think he could cope with the hilarity the man would find in the story.
He took a seat then, across the table from his brother, their Mother between them at the head as Irakles’ other family clustered together further down the long stretch of oak. There was little love lost between them.
No thanks of course to the man who stood at the opposite end of the table, who began to address those he’d gathered to him, and whose gaze lifted to raise upon his sons as he spoke. Achilleas sat straighter, leaned back away from the table and watched his father steadily as instead of explaining to his family all that had transpired and how, he just gave insulting and unneeded reminders of his expectations.
What did he suppose they would do? Tear off their clothes and dance upon the tables? Achilleas’ hands curled into fists where they lay upon the table, why did the man persist on assuming they were idiots and could not hold themselves to the standards that society demanded? As if he were an untested boy attending his first court session rather than a baron in his own right on his wedding day.And then when he spoke of Meena and Tasia and Sarah representing the Mikaelidas house too….
Myrto settled a hand over that of her firstborn son and squeezed, and Achilleas glanced at her, his aggravation blowing away in the face of her cautioning look. And indeed, he’d done himself enough damage in letting his father rattle him of late. Better to just bite his tongue until he was certain that what he would say was not going to be inflammatory. He could not afford to be inflammatory.
But he did not have a chance to speak anyway because Emilios had replied, and for a very real moment, Achilleas was tempted to kick him under the table as he would have done when they were children. Thankfully, his years had afforded him some impulse control, and instead, he lifted an eyebrow, the silent ‘Really, Emilios’ written all over his face.
“We have already discussed this,” he said snippily, through not quite gritted teeth before he directed a brief, tight smile at his father, the King. “I am certain no one here is in need of a reminder of what is expected tomorrow, your Majesty. Perhaps what would be worth discussing is what else this shift in the line of succession means? As we are all here together?
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Achilleas accepted a cup of wine from the servant, watched with only passing interest the manner in which his father dismissed Tasia, and then averted his gaze entirely as Meena entered the room with the younger of her two daughters. He had still not been able to scrub the memory of their last encounter from his mind, and whilst he was fairly certain she had not mentioned it to his father it was still a less than comfortable memory.
There was a certain level of acquaintance that he and Meena had grown used to operating on, and he had stressed it by even seeking her out at all. Getting an eyeful of his father’s mistress in all her glory had smashed it into smithereens. Achilleas had not even spoken of it to Emilios, because he did not think he could cope with the hilarity the man would find in the story.
He took a seat then, across the table from his brother, their Mother between them at the head as Irakles’ other family clustered together further down the long stretch of oak. There was little love lost between them.
No thanks of course to the man who stood at the opposite end of the table, who began to address those he’d gathered to him, and whose gaze lifted to raise upon his sons as he spoke. Achilleas sat straighter, leaned back away from the table and watched his father steadily as instead of explaining to his family all that had transpired and how, he just gave insulting and unneeded reminders of his expectations.
What did he suppose they would do? Tear off their clothes and dance upon the tables? Achilleas’ hands curled into fists where they lay upon the table, why did the man persist on assuming they were idiots and could not hold themselves to the standards that society demanded? As if he were an untested boy attending his first court session rather than a baron in his own right on his wedding day.And then when he spoke of Meena and Tasia and Sarah representing the Mikaelidas house too….
Myrto settled a hand over that of her firstborn son and squeezed, and Achilleas glanced at her, his aggravation blowing away in the face of her cautioning look. And indeed, he’d done himself enough damage in letting his father rattle him of late. Better to just bite his tongue until he was certain that what he would say was not going to be inflammatory. He could not afford to be inflammatory.
But he did not have a chance to speak anyway because Emilios had replied, and for a very real moment, Achilleas was tempted to kick him under the table as he would have done when they were children. Thankfully, his years had afforded him some impulse control, and instead, he lifted an eyebrow, the silent ‘Really, Emilios’ written all over his face.
“We have already discussed this,” he said snippily, through not quite gritted teeth before he directed a brief, tight smile at his father, the King. “I am certain no one here is in need of a reminder of what is expected tomorrow, your Majesty. Perhaps what would be worth discussing is what else this shift in the line of succession means? As we are all here together?
Achilleas accepted a cup of wine from the servant, watched with only passing interest the manner in which his father dismissed Tasia, and then averted his gaze entirely as Meena entered the room with the younger of her two daughters. He had still not been able to scrub the memory of their last encounter from his mind, and whilst he was fairly certain she had not mentioned it to his father it was still a less than comfortable memory.
There was a certain level of acquaintance that he and Meena had grown used to operating on, and he had stressed it by even seeking her out at all. Getting an eyeful of his father’s mistress in all her glory had smashed it into smithereens. Achilleas had not even spoken of it to Emilios, because he did not think he could cope with the hilarity the man would find in the story.
He took a seat then, across the table from his brother, their Mother between them at the head as Irakles’ other family clustered together further down the long stretch of oak. There was little love lost between them.
No thanks of course to the man who stood at the opposite end of the table, who began to address those he’d gathered to him, and whose gaze lifted to raise upon his sons as he spoke. Achilleas sat straighter, leaned back away from the table and watched his father steadily as instead of explaining to his family all that had transpired and how, he just gave insulting and unneeded reminders of his expectations.
What did he suppose they would do? Tear off their clothes and dance upon the tables? Achilleas’ hands curled into fists where they lay upon the table, why did the man persist on assuming they were idiots and could not hold themselves to the standards that society demanded? As if he were an untested boy attending his first court session rather than a baron in his own right on his wedding day.And then when he spoke of Meena and Tasia and Sarah representing the Mikaelidas house too….
Myrto settled a hand over that of her firstborn son and squeezed, and Achilleas glanced at her, his aggravation blowing away in the face of her cautioning look. And indeed, he’d done himself enough damage in letting his father rattle him of late. Better to just bite his tongue until he was certain that what he would say was not going to be inflammatory. He could not afford to be inflammatory.
But he did not have a chance to speak anyway because Emilios had replied, and for a very real moment, Achilleas was tempted to kick him under the table as he would have done when they were children. Thankfully, his years had afforded him some impulse control, and instead, he lifted an eyebrow, the silent ‘Really, Emilios’ written all over his face.
“We have already discussed this,” he said snippily, through not quite gritted teeth before he directed a brief, tight smile at his father, the King. “I am certain no one here is in need of a reminder of what is expected tomorrow, your Majesty. Perhaps what would be worth discussing is what else this shift in the line of succession means? As we are all here together?
Irakles's eyes momentarily flickered over to Achilleas when Emilios made the comment about the state of the other's hair, but other then a brief narrowing of his eyes, Irakles did not further comment. The servant's in charge of Achilleas's appearance tomorrow would know what to do with it, they were under strict instructions by Irakles to ensure his outward appearance looks flawless for the wedding, and under no circumstances was it to be compromised - and no servant in the household would dare go against his instructions.
Instead, his eyes lingered upon Achilleas when his eldest son spoke. The old man detected the terse undertone to his son's tone, but while he wanted to address it, Irakles alsoknew now was not the time. He still had much to do, and a few documents to approve in order to speed up the process to get to his coronation. While he's agreed to have it be posponed till after Achillea's wedding to have it done, he also knew it should not be delayed much longer for the people of Taengea has been left in limbo for far too long in regards of who would be their leader.
"It would seem that many of you require reminders, if actions of the past were to be an indicator, Achilleas." the man retorted sharply, gaze almost shooting daggers at the other before he continued. "But you are not wrong either in that we need to discuss future possibilities after your imminent wedding."
Clearing his throat, Irakles picked up his bronze chalice and took a sip of the rich wine served, before continuing as the servants came along to serve the food on wooden boards and bronze plates down the middle of the table. "Once my coronation has been completed, it would be recognized that you are Crown Prince, Achilleas. With me being previously Head of House, those duties would then be passed to you, Achilleas, until come a time when Emilios would have to be taking over that duty. This would mean you would either have to give up barony of Euttica, Achilleas, or find a steward to run it for you." Irakles himself had given up his barony when he was given the task of Head, for he did not wish for his attention to be split as he had to be both Head and General of the Taengean armies at the same time.
Sliding his gaze to Myrto, he stared at his mousey wife. She was a wife who suited his political necessity at all parts, and he knew Myrto would make a good Queen - just not the type he needed. She held no ambition, not the kind that matched Irakles's burning desire to lead. Unlike Meena, Myrto was contented, and Irakles despised contentment. Yet, the Gods and the law saw them married, which meant Myrto would be Queen, of course. "You will join me at the coronation of course, Myrto. I expect you to be appropriately dressed and suited to meet the public as Queen when the time comes."
"The coronation may be postponed for now till after your wedding, Achilleas, but the papers have been signed by all the Heads of royal houses, and are now in the keeping of Lord Fotios. It is irreversible. Of course, I will continue with the investigations for Stephanos, but seeing his actions is somewhat damndening to the accusations against him, there isn't much I can do at this point. In effect, our family will now take over as the royal family of Taengea - if that is what you needed to be explained to you, Achilleas." The last sentence was directed right at his eldest, gaze zeroing in on him. But the intonation was unmistakable - Achilleas should know this, as Irakles assumed. There shouldn't have been a need for clarification.
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Irakles's eyes momentarily flickered over to Achilleas when Emilios made the comment about the state of the other's hair, but other then a brief narrowing of his eyes, Irakles did not further comment. The servant's in charge of Achilleas's appearance tomorrow would know what to do with it, they were under strict instructions by Irakles to ensure his outward appearance looks flawless for the wedding, and under no circumstances was it to be compromised - and no servant in the household would dare go against his instructions.
Instead, his eyes lingered upon Achilleas when his eldest son spoke. The old man detected the terse undertone to his son's tone, but while he wanted to address it, Irakles alsoknew now was not the time. He still had much to do, and a few documents to approve in order to speed up the process to get to his coronation. While he's agreed to have it be posponed till after Achillea's wedding to have it done, he also knew it should not be delayed much longer for the people of Taengea has been left in limbo for far too long in regards of who would be their leader.
"It would seem that many of you require reminders, if actions of the past were to be an indicator, Achilleas." the man retorted sharply, gaze almost shooting daggers at the other before he continued. "But you are not wrong either in that we need to discuss future possibilities after your imminent wedding."
Clearing his throat, Irakles picked up his bronze chalice and took a sip of the rich wine served, before continuing as the servants came along to serve the food on wooden boards and bronze plates down the middle of the table. "Once my coronation has been completed, it would be recognized that you are Crown Prince, Achilleas. With me being previously Head of House, those duties would then be passed to you, Achilleas, until come a time when Emilios would have to be taking over that duty. This would mean you would either have to give up barony of Euttica, Achilleas, or find a steward to run it for you." Irakles himself had given up his barony when he was given the task of Head, for he did not wish for his attention to be split as he had to be both Head and General of the Taengean armies at the same time.
Sliding his gaze to Myrto, he stared at his mousey wife. She was a wife who suited his political necessity at all parts, and he knew Myrto would make a good Queen - just not the type he needed. She held no ambition, not the kind that matched Irakles's burning desire to lead. Unlike Meena, Myrto was contented, and Irakles despised contentment. Yet, the Gods and the law saw them married, which meant Myrto would be Queen, of course. "You will join me at the coronation of course, Myrto. I expect you to be appropriately dressed and suited to meet the public as Queen when the time comes."
"The coronation may be postponed for now till after your wedding, Achilleas, but the papers have been signed by all the Heads of royal houses, and are now in the keeping of Lord Fotios. It is irreversible. Of course, I will continue with the investigations for Stephanos, but seeing his actions is somewhat damndening to the accusations against him, there isn't much I can do at this point. In effect, our family will now take over as the royal family of Taengea - if that is what you needed to be explained to you, Achilleas." The last sentence was directed right at his eldest, gaze zeroing in on him. But the intonation was unmistakable - Achilleas should know this, as Irakles assumed. There shouldn't have been a need for clarification.
Irakles's eyes momentarily flickered over to Achilleas when Emilios made the comment about the state of the other's hair, but other then a brief narrowing of his eyes, Irakles did not further comment. The servant's in charge of Achilleas's appearance tomorrow would know what to do with it, they were under strict instructions by Irakles to ensure his outward appearance looks flawless for the wedding, and under no circumstances was it to be compromised - and no servant in the household would dare go against his instructions.
Instead, his eyes lingered upon Achilleas when his eldest son spoke. The old man detected the terse undertone to his son's tone, but while he wanted to address it, Irakles alsoknew now was not the time. He still had much to do, and a few documents to approve in order to speed up the process to get to his coronation. While he's agreed to have it be posponed till after Achillea's wedding to have it done, he also knew it should not be delayed much longer for the people of Taengea has been left in limbo for far too long in regards of who would be their leader.
"It would seem that many of you require reminders, if actions of the past were to be an indicator, Achilleas." the man retorted sharply, gaze almost shooting daggers at the other before he continued. "But you are not wrong either in that we need to discuss future possibilities after your imminent wedding."
Clearing his throat, Irakles picked up his bronze chalice and took a sip of the rich wine served, before continuing as the servants came along to serve the food on wooden boards and bronze plates down the middle of the table. "Once my coronation has been completed, it would be recognized that you are Crown Prince, Achilleas. With me being previously Head of House, those duties would then be passed to you, Achilleas, until come a time when Emilios would have to be taking over that duty. This would mean you would either have to give up barony of Euttica, Achilleas, or find a steward to run it for you." Irakles himself had given up his barony when he was given the task of Head, for he did not wish for his attention to be split as he had to be both Head and General of the Taengean armies at the same time.
Sliding his gaze to Myrto, he stared at his mousey wife. She was a wife who suited his political necessity at all parts, and he knew Myrto would make a good Queen - just not the type he needed. She held no ambition, not the kind that matched Irakles's burning desire to lead. Unlike Meena, Myrto was contented, and Irakles despised contentment. Yet, the Gods and the law saw them married, which meant Myrto would be Queen, of course. "You will join me at the coronation of course, Myrto. I expect you to be appropriately dressed and suited to meet the public as Queen when the time comes."
"The coronation may be postponed for now till after your wedding, Achilleas, but the papers have been signed by all the Heads of royal houses, and are now in the keeping of Lord Fotios. It is irreversible. Of course, I will continue with the investigations for Stephanos, but seeing his actions is somewhat damndening to the accusations against him, there isn't much I can do at this point. In effect, our family will now take over as the royal family of Taengea - if that is what you needed to be explained to you, Achilleas." The last sentence was directed right at his eldest, gaze zeroing in on him. But the intonation was unmistakable - Achilleas should know this, as Irakles assumed. There shouldn't have been a need for clarification.
While his brother may have come to a silent agreement with his father’s mistress, Emilios did not feel as if he owed her anything. The slight, given daily, to his mother was enough for him to steer clear of her in any private setting. Luckily for his sisters, he was gone most of their childhood, otherwise occupied as boys who become men tend to be. His connection to that overgrowth on the family tree only went as far as his littlest sister whom he was openly affectionate and protective. Sara was not of the same social climbing stock as her mother, and the youngest son felt a sort of connection to the youngest daughter.
He felt no shame in banding together with his mother. She was Queen, not the preening peacock who had charmed his father into openly insulting her. His father had drawn the lines in the sand, who was Emilos to cross it?
And even though Emilios felt like he lived in the shadow of his brother most of the time, it was events like these that the younger boy tried to follow his brother’s example. And having spent so much of their youth watching and learning from the man, it was easy for him to read his body language now.
He was pissed.
And Emilios loved it. The curl of his fists in frustration against the table, the subtle anger in his eyes as he watched their father berate them. He had to admit, the two had done very little in recent memory to earn such a verbal bashing. Yes, Emilios may have enjoyed whoring and quietly supporting Stephanos over Irakles. But really, where was the shame? What had he done that could bring his father to such a rant. The youngest often wondered if it was a bit of jealousy, but he never could confirm his theory. And just thinking his father was jealous of his own actions as the second son may it easier for him to continue to be a disappointment in his whoring and hating.
If he already thought of him in that way, why change it now? Seemed like a waste of time to try and right something that was so openly expressed. But his brother felt differently, trying to be the son Irakles had wanted from the get go. And the younger boy wasn’t sure who Achilleas could deal with his father’s obvious disappointment in his perfection. What had Achilleas done that his father could even be mad at him for? He was the perfect son.
It was now, watching his father show just how little he thought of the two in front of him, that Emilios truly felt pity for his brother. Perhaps they both understood what it was like to never be good enough.
In his true fashion, he attempted to lighten the moment, to bring the attention to something far less ‘do it or die’. The glare he gained from his brother was worth replacing the anger on his face. His mother had done so with a comforting hand. He had done so by changing the subject. See, the family could unite when need be.
His father’s pointed glare in his direction was not missed. And Emilios turned it towards Tasia, as if that had been the one his father had referred to. He looked back at his mother, then at Achilleas. ”We shall all be on our best behavior. I’ll keep an eye on Achilleas and make sure he doesn’t do anything that would embarrass you, father. Tis my duty, and I shall bare it with pride.” There was little Emilios could not find some sort of humor in.
Too bad their father hated that about his son.
The mention of Stephanos, of how his actions of running from potential death had all but put the nail in the coffin, had Emilios angry. That action, the accusation and investigation, were all because of Irakles. He had been the one to point the finger at a man who lacked royal ambition. Stephanos would have happily spent his days whoring and leading men into battle. Anyone who really knew Stephanos knew that he was more to run and hide than to actively seek the crown. And, of course, his father had seen his actions as lacking. So it only made sense to say that Stephanos had been the one who had done it, when everyone who truly cared for the true King knew it to be false.
But what could be done about it now? At least Stephanos and his wife were alive. Emilios just hoped he would never have to truly pick sides. Because he was not so sure he could choose that of his father’s. ”Do not berate Achilleas so openly, Father. He was just asking for my sake. He tried to explain it to me earlier, but it still had me confused. Your own words make it far more clear to me.” There, perhaps he could at least take a bit of the heat off of the blushing groom.
Never let it be said that he didn’t love his brother.
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While his brother may have come to a silent agreement with his father’s mistress, Emilios did not feel as if he owed her anything. The slight, given daily, to his mother was enough for him to steer clear of her in any private setting. Luckily for his sisters, he was gone most of their childhood, otherwise occupied as boys who become men tend to be. His connection to that overgrowth on the family tree only went as far as his littlest sister whom he was openly affectionate and protective. Sara was not of the same social climbing stock as her mother, and the youngest son felt a sort of connection to the youngest daughter.
He felt no shame in banding together with his mother. She was Queen, not the preening peacock who had charmed his father into openly insulting her. His father had drawn the lines in the sand, who was Emilos to cross it?
And even though Emilios felt like he lived in the shadow of his brother most of the time, it was events like these that the younger boy tried to follow his brother’s example. And having spent so much of their youth watching and learning from the man, it was easy for him to read his body language now.
He was pissed.
And Emilios loved it. The curl of his fists in frustration against the table, the subtle anger in his eyes as he watched their father berate them. He had to admit, the two had done very little in recent memory to earn such a verbal bashing. Yes, Emilios may have enjoyed whoring and quietly supporting Stephanos over Irakles. But really, where was the shame? What had he done that could bring his father to such a rant. The youngest often wondered if it was a bit of jealousy, but he never could confirm his theory. And just thinking his father was jealous of his own actions as the second son may it easier for him to continue to be a disappointment in his whoring and hating.
If he already thought of him in that way, why change it now? Seemed like a waste of time to try and right something that was so openly expressed. But his brother felt differently, trying to be the son Irakles had wanted from the get go. And the younger boy wasn’t sure who Achilleas could deal with his father’s obvious disappointment in his perfection. What had Achilleas done that his father could even be mad at him for? He was the perfect son.
It was now, watching his father show just how little he thought of the two in front of him, that Emilios truly felt pity for his brother. Perhaps they both understood what it was like to never be good enough.
In his true fashion, he attempted to lighten the moment, to bring the attention to something far less ‘do it or die’. The glare he gained from his brother was worth replacing the anger on his face. His mother had done so with a comforting hand. He had done so by changing the subject. See, the family could unite when need be.
His father’s pointed glare in his direction was not missed. And Emilios turned it towards Tasia, as if that had been the one his father had referred to. He looked back at his mother, then at Achilleas. ”We shall all be on our best behavior. I’ll keep an eye on Achilleas and make sure he doesn’t do anything that would embarrass you, father. Tis my duty, and I shall bare it with pride.” There was little Emilios could not find some sort of humor in.
Too bad their father hated that about his son.
The mention of Stephanos, of how his actions of running from potential death had all but put the nail in the coffin, had Emilios angry. That action, the accusation and investigation, were all because of Irakles. He had been the one to point the finger at a man who lacked royal ambition. Stephanos would have happily spent his days whoring and leading men into battle. Anyone who really knew Stephanos knew that he was more to run and hide than to actively seek the crown. And, of course, his father had seen his actions as lacking. So it only made sense to say that Stephanos had been the one who had done it, when everyone who truly cared for the true King knew it to be false.
But what could be done about it now? At least Stephanos and his wife were alive. Emilios just hoped he would never have to truly pick sides. Because he was not so sure he could choose that of his father’s. ”Do not berate Achilleas so openly, Father. He was just asking for my sake. He tried to explain it to me earlier, but it still had me confused. Your own words make it far more clear to me.” There, perhaps he could at least take a bit of the heat off of the blushing groom.
Never let it be said that he didn’t love his brother.
While his brother may have come to a silent agreement with his father’s mistress, Emilios did not feel as if he owed her anything. The slight, given daily, to his mother was enough for him to steer clear of her in any private setting. Luckily for his sisters, he was gone most of their childhood, otherwise occupied as boys who become men tend to be. His connection to that overgrowth on the family tree only went as far as his littlest sister whom he was openly affectionate and protective. Sara was not of the same social climbing stock as her mother, and the youngest son felt a sort of connection to the youngest daughter.
He felt no shame in banding together with his mother. She was Queen, not the preening peacock who had charmed his father into openly insulting her. His father had drawn the lines in the sand, who was Emilos to cross it?
And even though Emilios felt like he lived in the shadow of his brother most of the time, it was events like these that the younger boy tried to follow his brother’s example. And having spent so much of their youth watching and learning from the man, it was easy for him to read his body language now.
He was pissed.
And Emilios loved it. The curl of his fists in frustration against the table, the subtle anger in his eyes as he watched their father berate them. He had to admit, the two had done very little in recent memory to earn such a verbal bashing. Yes, Emilios may have enjoyed whoring and quietly supporting Stephanos over Irakles. But really, where was the shame? What had he done that could bring his father to such a rant. The youngest often wondered if it was a bit of jealousy, but he never could confirm his theory. And just thinking his father was jealous of his own actions as the second son may it easier for him to continue to be a disappointment in his whoring and hating.
If he already thought of him in that way, why change it now? Seemed like a waste of time to try and right something that was so openly expressed. But his brother felt differently, trying to be the son Irakles had wanted from the get go. And the younger boy wasn’t sure who Achilleas could deal with his father’s obvious disappointment in his perfection. What had Achilleas done that his father could even be mad at him for? He was the perfect son.
It was now, watching his father show just how little he thought of the two in front of him, that Emilios truly felt pity for his brother. Perhaps they both understood what it was like to never be good enough.
In his true fashion, he attempted to lighten the moment, to bring the attention to something far less ‘do it or die’. The glare he gained from his brother was worth replacing the anger on his face. His mother had done so with a comforting hand. He had done so by changing the subject. See, the family could unite when need be.
His father’s pointed glare in his direction was not missed. And Emilios turned it towards Tasia, as if that had been the one his father had referred to. He looked back at his mother, then at Achilleas. ”We shall all be on our best behavior. I’ll keep an eye on Achilleas and make sure he doesn’t do anything that would embarrass you, father. Tis my duty, and I shall bare it with pride.” There was little Emilios could not find some sort of humor in.
Too bad their father hated that about his son.
The mention of Stephanos, of how his actions of running from potential death had all but put the nail in the coffin, had Emilios angry. That action, the accusation and investigation, were all because of Irakles. He had been the one to point the finger at a man who lacked royal ambition. Stephanos would have happily spent his days whoring and leading men into battle. Anyone who really knew Stephanos knew that he was more to run and hide than to actively seek the crown. And, of course, his father had seen his actions as lacking. So it only made sense to say that Stephanos had been the one who had done it, when everyone who truly cared for the true King knew it to be false.
But what could be done about it now? At least Stephanos and his wife were alive. Emilios just hoped he would never have to truly pick sides. Because he was not so sure he could choose that of his father’s. ”Do not berate Achilleas so openly, Father. He was just asking for my sake. He tried to explain it to me earlier, but it still had me confused. Your own words make it far more clear to me.” There, perhaps he could at least take a bit of the heat off of the blushing groom.
Never let it be said that he didn’t love his brother.
He had realised as soon as he’d said it that he had given his father an opening, and sure enough, the man did not fail in seizing on it, Achilleas’ feeling the prickle of heat under his collar and willing it into submission before it crept up his neck and over his face at the public admonishment.
It was no coincidence that the missive he’d been sent after the senate meet had berated him for ignoring the ‘reminder’ his father had imparted regarding his vote, and Achilleas kicked himself for being so clumsy in his choice of words.But perhaps it was worth weathering the man’s derision it if meant he would finally speak openly of his plans to the family.
Shooting a quick glance at his brother, Achilleas waited expectantly for his father to speak. He knew some of it already of course, his quiet conversations with his Mother’s cousin amongst others having enlightened him where his father had not, but there was a momentary relief that the King still intended for Achilleas to take the Head of House position. He had been cagey when Achilleas had pressed him regarding the barony, and there had been a small worry that perhaps his father would choose to further impress his displeasure upon his son by settling that role upon Emilios instead.
But apparently he was not ready to do that yet, and so Achilleas breathed a quiet sigh, looking back to Irakles when the man spoke his name. Here was the crux of it, how open would he be about what he and the other Heads of House had enacted? How would Emilios respond to news of Stephanos having been sentenced without trial?
Not for the first time, Achilleas wished he’d managed to speak to his brother before now, to share with him what he had learned. But there it was. Common knowledge now. The older of the two brothers switched his attention from his father to his brother, a warning in his eyes for the other to keep his temper. Hera knows, Achilleas had failed at it often enough of late, but they didn’t need to alienate themselves from their father anymore than they already had. Than he already had.
A fact perfectly illustrated by manner in which Achilleas felt the man’s glare upon him and heard the pointed words. He met the gaze settled upon him with a steady one of his own, and he opened his mouth to reply when Emilios beat him to it in an unexpected defence. The elder’s blue eyes flickered briefly towards his younger sibling in surprise before returning to their father.
“Indeed, thank you Emilios. I meant more the benefit of all of those present, your Majesty. But thank you, that does clarify everything.” Achilleas said, maintaining a smooth delivery even as he second guessed his next words. For he had not finished, pressing just a little further than he had done previously, trusting that the audience of the family would stay any ill-temper from the man.
“You are continuing investigations you say? Perhaps that is something Emilios or myself can be of help in?”
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He had realised as soon as he’d said it that he had given his father an opening, and sure enough, the man did not fail in seizing on it, Achilleas’ feeling the prickle of heat under his collar and willing it into submission before it crept up his neck and over his face at the public admonishment.
It was no coincidence that the missive he’d been sent after the senate meet had berated him for ignoring the ‘reminder’ his father had imparted regarding his vote, and Achilleas kicked himself for being so clumsy in his choice of words.But perhaps it was worth weathering the man’s derision it if meant he would finally speak openly of his plans to the family.
Shooting a quick glance at his brother, Achilleas waited expectantly for his father to speak. He knew some of it already of course, his quiet conversations with his Mother’s cousin amongst others having enlightened him where his father had not, but there was a momentary relief that the King still intended for Achilleas to take the Head of House position. He had been cagey when Achilleas had pressed him regarding the barony, and there had been a small worry that perhaps his father would choose to further impress his displeasure upon his son by settling that role upon Emilios instead.
But apparently he was not ready to do that yet, and so Achilleas breathed a quiet sigh, looking back to Irakles when the man spoke his name. Here was the crux of it, how open would he be about what he and the other Heads of House had enacted? How would Emilios respond to news of Stephanos having been sentenced without trial?
Not for the first time, Achilleas wished he’d managed to speak to his brother before now, to share with him what he had learned. But there it was. Common knowledge now. The older of the two brothers switched his attention from his father to his brother, a warning in his eyes for the other to keep his temper. Hera knows, Achilleas had failed at it often enough of late, but they didn’t need to alienate themselves from their father anymore than they already had. Than he already had.
A fact perfectly illustrated by manner in which Achilleas felt the man’s glare upon him and heard the pointed words. He met the gaze settled upon him with a steady one of his own, and he opened his mouth to reply when Emilios beat him to it in an unexpected defence. The elder’s blue eyes flickered briefly towards his younger sibling in surprise before returning to their father.
“Indeed, thank you Emilios. I meant more the benefit of all of those present, your Majesty. But thank you, that does clarify everything.” Achilleas said, maintaining a smooth delivery even as he second guessed his next words. For he had not finished, pressing just a little further than he had done previously, trusting that the audience of the family would stay any ill-temper from the man.
“You are continuing investigations you say? Perhaps that is something Emilios or myself can be of help in?”
He had realised as soon as he’d said it that he had given his father an opening, and sure enough, the man did not fail in seizing on it, Achilleas’ feeling the prickle of heat under his collar and willing it into submission before it crept up his neck and over his face at the public admonishment.
It was no coincidence that the missive he’d been sent after the senate meet had berated him for ignoring the ‘reminder’ his father had imparted regarding his vote, and Achilleas kicked himself for being so clumsy in his choice of words.But perhaps it was worth weathering the man’s derision it if meant he would finally speak openly of his plans to the family.
Shooting a quick glance at his brother, Achilleas waited expectantly for his father to speak. He knew some of it already of course, his quiet conversations with his Mother’s cousin amongst others having enlightened him where his father had not, but there was a momentary relief that the King still intended for Achilleas to take the Head of House position. He had been cagey when Achilleas had pressed him regarding the barony, and there had been a small worry that perhaps his father would choose to further impress his displeasure upon his son by settling that role upon Emilios instead.
But apparently he was not ready to do that yet, and so Achilleas breathed a quiet sigh, looking back to Irakles when the man spoke his name. Here was the crux of it, how open would he be about what he and the other Heads of House had enacted? How would Emilios respond to news of Stephanos having been sentenced without trial?
Not for the first time, Achilleas wished he’d managed to speak to his brother before now, to share with him what he had learned. But there it was. Common knowledge now. The older of the two brothers switched his attention from his father to his brother, a warning in his eyes for the other to keep his temper. Hera knows, Achilleas had failed at it often enough of late, but they didn’t need to alienate themselves from their father anymore than they already had. Than he already had.
A fact perfectly illustrated by manner in which Achilleas felt the man’s glare upon him and heard the pointed words. He met the gaze settled upon him with a steady one of his own, and he opened his mouth to reply when Emilios beat him to it in an unexpected defence. The elder’s blue eyes flickered briefly towards his younger sibling in surprise before returning to their father.
“Indeed, thank you Emilios. I meant more the benefit of all of those present, your Majesty. But thank you, that does clarify everything.” Achilleas said, maintaining a smooth delivery even as he second guessed his next words. For he had not finished, pressing just a little further than he had done previously, trusting that the audience of the family would stay any ill-temper from the man.
“You are continuing investigations you say? Perhaps that is something Emilios or myself can be of help in?”
Irakles's pointed gaze was quick to shift to Emilios, his disapproving glare on his second son almost a given by that point. He knew he should've chosen better then the mousey Myrto for his wife, but he had hoped his sons would've ended up with more of his genes then the spineless lady he now had to call his spouse. Of course, the Gods would laugh at him - hadn't they since the day he was born the first son of a second wife, with a role made for him yet not given to him? Achilleas and Emilios had both taken after Myrto's more passive, loving nature, and it was his mistress's first daughter who had taken his and Meena's ambitious streak.
"Take pride in not embarassing yourself first, perhaps, Emilios. Your absence in court events are not overlooked." It was a subtle jab, but one that was there nontheless. There was only so many court events Emilios could find an excuse to miss, before it started looking like his second son was shirking his duty, and Irakles was not happy about that either. But he had bigger issues to solve, and merely made a note to speak to his second son about that matter later, as the dinner continued on.
Accepting a cut of venison and some roasted vegetables upon his plate from Meena as his sons spoke, the man merely blinked when they appeared to try and quickly cover up their blunder. Trust Emilios to try and take the fall for Achilleas - spineless, that Achilleas was. A brief glance was enough for Irakles to see his eldest son realized how silly he sounded at his first question, but that was exactly how Irakles trained them. Humiliation was greatly remembered afterall, so the man ensured both his sons remembered the mistakes they made.
Allowing them to make their case as he cut into the meat and vegetables, the man ensured the food was properly swallowed and took a sip of his wine to wash it down, before he eventually addressed Achilleas's words. "I should not need to clarify anything, at this point. See to that in the future." It was a tone that brokered no argument, the man gesturing for more meat and some fish as he raised a brow at Achilleas's suggestion, and slowly considered for a moment. He could not risk his two sons investigating into Stephanos - no need to afterall, since he knew exactly what happened. But he also knew how Achilleas and Emilios trusted their cousin, so...
"I heard rumor of Stephanos having those on his side over in the provinces Meganea. It is a far ride and a tough climb - but perhaps you two could go take a look there and ask if anyone could help him be a supporting word?" It was a wild goose chase, of course, but he knew how long it would take to get to Meganea in the first place so that would buy him some time.
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Irakles's pointed gaze was quick to shift to Emilios, his disapproving glare on his second son almost a given by that point. He knew he should've chosen better then the mousey Myrto for his wife, but he had hoped his sons would've ended up with more of his genes then the spineless lady he now had to call his spouse. Of course, the Gods would laugh at him - hadn't they since the day he was born the first son of a second wife, with a role made for him yet not given to him? Achilleas and Emilios had both taken after Myrto's more passive, loving nature, and it was his mistress's first daughter who had taken his and Meena's ambitious streak.
"Take pride in not embarassing yourself first, perhaps, Emilios. Your absence in court events are not overlooked." It was a subtle jab, but one that was there nontheless. There was only so many court events Emilios could find an excuse to miss, before it started looking like his second son was shirking his duty, and Irakles was not happy about that either. But he had bigger issues to solve, and merely made a note to speak to his second son about that matter later, as the dinner continued on.
Accepting a cut of venison and some roasted vegetables upon his plate from Meena as his sons spoke, the man merely blinked when they appeared to try and quickly cover up their blunder. Trust Emilios to try and take the fall for Achilleas - spineless, that Achilleas was. A brief glance was enough for Irakles to see his eldest son realized how silly he sounded at his first question, but that was exactly how Irakles trained them. Humiliation was greatly remembered afterall, so the man ensured both his sons remembered the mistakes they made.
Allowing them to make their case as he cut into the meat and vegetables, the man ensured the food was properly swallowed and took a sip of his wine to wash it down, before he eventually addressed Achilleas's words. "I should not need to clarify anything, at this point. See to that in the future." It was a tone that brokered no argument, the man gesturing for more meat and some fish as he raised a brow at Achilleas's suggestion, and slowly considered for a moment. He could not risk his two sons investigating into Stephanos - no need to afterall, since he knew exactly what happened. But he also knew how Achilleas and Emilios trusted their cousin, so...
"I heard rumor of Stephanos having those on his side over in the provinces Meganea. It is a far ride and a tough climb - but perhaps you two could go take a look there and ask if anyone could help him be a supporting word?" It was a wild goose chase, of course, but he knew how long it would take to get to Meganea in the first place so that would buy him some time.
Irakles's pointed gaze was quick to shift to Emilios, his disapproving glare on his second son almost a given by that point. He knew he should've chosen better then the mousey Myrto for his wife, but he had hoped his sons would've ended up with more of his genes then the spineless lady he now had to call his spouse. Of course, the Gods would laugh at him - hadn't they since the day he was born the first son of a second wife, with a role made for him yet not given to him? Achilleas and Emilios had both taken after Myrto's more passive, loving nature, and it was his mistress's first daughter who had taken his and Meena's ambitious streak.
"Take pride in not embarassing yourself first, perhaps, Emilios. Your absence in court events are not overlooked." It was a subtle jab, but one that was there nontheless. There was only so many court events Emilios could find an excuse to miss, before it started looking like his second son was shirking his duty, and Irakles was not happy about that either. But he had bigger issues to solve, and merely made a note to speak to his second son about that matter later, as the dinner continued on.
Accepting a cut of venison and some roasted vegetables upon his plate from Meena as his sons spoke, the man merely blinked when they appeared to try and quickly cover up their blunder. Trust Emilios to try and take the fall for Achilleas - spineless, that Achilleas was. A brief glance was enough for Irakles to see his eldest son realized how silly he sounded at his first question, but that was exactly how Irakles trained them. Humiliation was greatly remembered afterall, so the man ensured both his sons remembered the mistakes they made.
Allowing them to make their case as he cut into the meat and vegetables, the man ensured the food was properly swallowed and took a sip of his wine to wash it down, before he eventually addressed Achilleas's words. "I should not need to clarify anything, at this point. See to that in the future." It was a tone that brokered no argument, the man gesturing for more meat and some fish as he raised a brow at Achilleas's suggestion, and slowly considered for a moment. He could not risk his two sons investigating into Stephanos - no need to afterall, since he knew exactly what happened. But he also knew how Achilleas and Emilios trusted their cousin, so...
"I heard rumor of Stephanos having those on his side over in the provinces Meganea. It is a far ride and a tough climb - but perhaps you two could go take a look there and ask if anyone could help him be a supporting word?" It was a wild goose chase, of course, but he knew how long it would take to get to Meganea in the first place so that would buy him some time.
She had felt a thrill of excitement when her mother’s servant had come to inform her of the family’s dinner plans. Sara had been sprawled across her bed on her stomach, her feet crossed in the air as she skimmed the pages of her latest ‘theft’ from her father’s office. It was not actually theft, seeing as he had waved her off with it without so much as a glance but that sort of made it feel like stealing. When the servant had gone, the youngest child had rolled onto her back and smiled up at the ceiling. She wasn’t even thinking of the awkwardness that was sure to come if everyone was attending tonight.
Another servant appeared a short time later, helping her young mistress with her hair and finding a suitable chiton for the occasion. Sara had hidden her book before her mother arrived, tucking it away with the rest of her treasured things. She loved her mother dearly, but she often disapproved of her youngest daughter’s usages of time. She would have much rather have heard her practicing the harp or learning how to manage the household. Sara would have preferred to leave those things entirely to Tasia who was more adept at them.
Clothed in one of her finest, the dark rose-pink chiton betrayed her youth. It was a modest one as well, but her mother approved and they had both quickly moved to join the others where they were expected to gather. It seemed they were the last to arrive, Sara’s eyes going to Tasia and then to her father. Her smile was reserved but warm, and she dipped her head graciously before letting her gaze travel on to her brothers and Myrto.
It was only then that the gravity of the situation set in, seeing Achilleas’ stoic face as he guided his mother. It was no secret at all that her mother had taken his mother’s place in everything but name. Sara could not spare it another thought before Meena began to shoo her away, steering them both towards the table. She took the seat on the end, biting her lip to keep from laughing too loudly as Emilios winked at her. She’d almost wished he would have taken a seat next to her instead of Tasia, because she didn’t know if she could hold a conversation with her eldest brother. She rolled her eyes briefly and shook her head at Emilios with a slight crinkle of her nose, which earned her a disapproving look from Meena. Sometimes she wondered if her mother’s motives were less about Sara behaving like a proper woman, and more about the interactions she had with her elder brother.
They weren’t exactly thick as thieves, but Sara was confident that whenever she asked for his help – he would be there to give it, favorable circumstances or not. She wasn’t sure the same could be said for Achilleas, though he might be inclined to help her if it benefitted her somehow. Shuffling slightly so that she could get a better view of the table, she leaned in to listen to Irakles speak. Things were certainly interesting for the Mikaelidas family, the rapid succession to becoming the royal family and the eldest being married tomorrow, and she smiled at their good fortune. She was a bit naïve to the circumstances behind the sudden elevation in status for her father and brothers, but she was confident things would be fine. They had to be.
She was mostly quiet, as was her nature, while the others around her spoke. She noticed that her sister hadn’t had much to say either thus far, but she was sure that would change. Tasia was often hot on the heels of their father, a trait she admired about her sister. She was tenacious and unyielding in what she wanted. They were talking about leaving, perhaps to Meganea. She knew so little of travel, there was hardly a word she could say about it. But maybe she could speak on something else, draw the conversation away to something much happier. Sara took her time, gingerly eating while listening to the conversation around her, feeling that twisting sensation in her nerves as she tried to work up the courage to speak up.
”A-h,” She began timidly, looking at Achilleas. She closed her mouth, almost tempted to act as if she said nothing but it was already sort of too late. She could feel her mother staring at her too. ”Are you excited to be getting married,… Achilleas?” She asked, the word ‘brother’ almost slipping out and quickly replaced with his name. She really only called Emilios that, which he didn’t seem to mind. Achilleas was probably another matter. ”Lady Theodora is so beautiful. I bet she will be especially resplendent tomorrow.”
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She had felt a thrill of excitement when her mother’s servant had come to inform her of the family’s dinner plans. Sara had been sprawled across her bed on her stomach, her feet crossed in the air as she skimmed the pages of her latest ‘theft’ from her father’s office. It was not actually theft, seeing as he had waved her off with it without so much as a glance but that sort of made it feel like stealing. When the servant had gone, the youngest child had rolled onto her back and smiled up at the ceiling. She wasn’t even thinking of the awkwardness that was sure to come if everyone was attending tonight.
Another servant appeared a short time later, helping her young mistress with her hair and finding a suitable chiton for the occasion. Sara had hidden her book before her mother arrived, tucking it away with the rest of her treasured things. She loved her mother dearly, but she often disapproved of her youngest daughter’s usages of time. She would have much rather have heard her practicing the harp or learning how to manage the household. Sara would have preferred to leave those things entirely to Tasia who was more adept at them.
Clothed in one of her finest, the dark rose-pink chiton betrayed her youth. It was a modest one as well, but her mother approved and they had both quickly moved to join the others where they were expected to gather. It seemed they were the last to arrive, Sara’s eyes going to Tasia and then to her father. Her smile was reserved but warm, and she dipped her head graciously before letting her gaze travel on to her brothers and Myrto.
It was only then that the gravity of the situation set in, seeing Achilleas’ stoic face as he guided his mother. It was no secret at all that her mother had taken his mother’s place in everything but name. Sara could not spare it another thought before Meena began to shoo her away, steering them both towards the table. She took the seat on the end, biting her lip to keep from laughing too loudly as Emilios winked at her. She’d almost wished he would have taken a seat next to her instead of Tasia, because she didn’t know if she could hold a conversation with her eldest brother. She rolled her eyes briefly and shook her head at Emilios with a slight crinkle of her nose, which earned her a disapproving look from Meena. Sometimes she wondered if her mother’s motives were less about Sara behaving like a proper woman, and more about the interactions she had with her elder brother.
They weren’t exactly thick as thieves, but Sara was confident that whenever she asked for his help – he would be there to give it, favorable circumstances or not. She wasn’t sure the same could be said for Achilleas, though he might be inclined to help her if it benefitted her somehow. Shuffling slightly so that she could get a better view of the table, she leaned in to listen to Irakles speak. Things were certainly interesting for the Mikaelidas family, the rapid succession to becoming the royal family and the eldest being married tomorrow, and she smiled at their good fortune. She was a bit naïve to the circumstances behind the sudden elevation in status for her father and brothers, but she was confident things would be fine. They had to be.
She was mostly quiet, as was her nature, while the others around her spoke. She noticed that her sister hadn’t had much to say either thus far, but she was sure that would change. Tasia was often hot on the heels of their father, a trait she admired about her sister. She was tenacious and unyielding in what she wanted. They were talking about leaving, perhaps to Meganea. She knew so little of travel, there was hardly a word she could say about it. But maybe she could speak on something else, draw the conversation away to something much happier. Sara took her time, gingerly eating while listening to the conversation around her, feeling that twisting sensation in her nerves as she tried to work up the courage to speak up.
”A-h,” She began timidly, looking at Achilleas. She closed her mouth, almost tempted to act as if she said nothing but it was already sort of too late. She could feel her mother staring at her too. ”Are you excited to be getting married,… Achilleas?” She asked, the word ‘brother’ almost slipping out and quickly replaced with his name. She really only called Emilios that, which he didn’t seem to mind. Achilleas was probably another matter. ”Lady Theodora is so beautiful. I bet she will be especially resplendent tomorrow.”
She had felt a thrill of excitement when her mother’s servant had come to inform her of the family’s dinner plans. Sara had been sprawled across her bed on her stomach, her feet crossed in the air as she skimmed the pages of her latest ‘theft’ from her father’s office. It was not actually theft, seeing as he had waved her off with it without so much as a glance but that sort of made it feel like stealing. When the servant had gone, the youngest child had rolled onto her back and smiled up at the ceiling. She wasn’t even thinking of the awkwardness that was sure to come if everyone was attending tonight.
Another servant appeared a short time later, helping her young mistress with her hair and finding a suitable chiton for the occasion. Sara had hidden her book before her mother arrived, tucking it away with the rest of her treasured things. She loved her mother dearly, but she often disapproved of her youngest daughter’s usages of time. She would have much rather have heard her practicing the harp or learning how to manage the household. Sara would have preferred to leave those things entirely to Tasia who was more adept at them.
Clothed in one of her finest, the dark rose-pink chiton betrayed her youth. It was a modest one as well, but her mother approved and they had both quickly moved to join the others where they were expected to gather. It seemed they were the last to arrive, Sara’s eyes going to Tasia and then to her father. Her smile was reserved but warm, and she dipped her head graciously before letting her gaze travel on to her brothers and Myrto.
It was only then that the gravity of the situation set in, seeing Achilleas’ stoic face as he guided his mother. It was no secret at all that her mother had taken his mother’s place in everything but name. Sara could not spare it another thought before Meena began to shoo her away, steering them both towards the table. She took the seat on the end, biting her lip to keep from laughing too loudly as Emilios winked at her. She’d almost wished he would have taken a seat next to her instead of Tasia, because she didn’t know if she could hold a conversation with her eldest brother. She rolled her eyes briefly and shook her head at Emilios with a slight crinkle of her nose, which earned her a disapproving look from Meena. Sometimes she wondered if her mother’s motives were less about Sara behaving like a proper woman, and more about the interactions she had with her elder brother.
They weren’t exactly thick as thieves, but Sara was confident that whenever she asked for his help – he would be there to give it, favorable circumstances or not. She wasn’t sure the same could be said for Achilleas, though he might be inclined to help her if it benefitted her somehow. Shuffling slightly so that she could get a better view of the table, she leaned in to listen to Irakles speak. Things were certainly interesting for the Mikaelidas family, the rapid succession to becoming the royal family and the eldest being married tomorrow, and she smiled at their good fortune. She was a bit naïve to the circumstances behind the sudden elevation in status for her father and brothers, but she was confident things would be fine. They had to be.
She was mostly quiet, as was her nature, while the others around her spoke. She noticed that her sister hadn’t had much to say either thus far, but she was sure that would change. Tasia was often hot on the heels of their father, a trait she admired about her sister. She was tenacious and unyielding in what she wanted. They were talking about leaving, perhaps to Meganea. She knew so little of travel, there was hardly a word she could say about it. But maybe she could speak on something else, draw the conversation away to something much happier. Sara took her time, gingerly eating while listening to the conversation around her, feeling that twisting sensation in her nerves as she tried to work up the courage to speak up.
”A-h,” She began timidly, looking at Achilleas. She closed her mouth, almost tempted to act as if she said nothing but it was already sort of too late. She could feel her mother staring at her too. ”Are you excited to be getting married,… Achilleas?” She asked, the word ‘brother’ almost slipping out and quickly replaced with his name. She really only called Emilios that, which he didn’t seem to mind. Achilleas was probably another matter. ”Lady Theodora is so beautiful. I bet she will be especially resplendent tomorrow.”
It would seem the man was on a roll, Emilios not escaping his ill-temper either and Achilleas set his teeth, stared very hard at the intricate carving where the tabletop met the table leg. There was no point in becoming riled, it did not help matters, but whether it was the stress of his upcoming marriage, the uncertainty around Stephanos, this overwhelming feeling that he did not trust the man in front of him...well, he was finding it harder and harder to curb his reactions.
His appetite was lacking, but Achilleas accepted a cut of meat and vegetables onto his plate, chewed and didn’t taste it. The sooner this was done the better. Even as he attempted to smooth things over, his father could not help but make another dig and, in the spirit of achieving something from this quite honestly painful conversation, his eldest child just acknowledged the rebuke with those minute of nods. His question about Stephanos was more important than his pride in this instance.
When Irakles made answer, Achilleas frowned a little. Meganea? He had never known Stephanos to spend a lot of time there. Gavriil of Dimitrou was hardly the partying kind, but he kept his expression neutral and glanced toward Emilios, brows raised.
“Of course, we can do that, can’t we? We’ll make arrangements to do so.” He wasn’t entirely sure when, though sooner rather than later was better in his book. He just wasn’t certain Theodora would be too pleased if he planned it for too soon after the wedding. About to ask where Irakles had heard that Stephanos had allies there, he broke off when Sara made a sort of strange sound like she had swallowed a frog, or was choking, and his blue gaze came to rest briefly upon the young girl at the other end of the table before flicking away again just as quickly once he had ascertained she wasn’t in mortal peril.
Of the two of the daughters that his father shared with Meena, the younger was the more tolerable, but Achilleas nevertheless avoided prolonged contact with her. It was unfair perhaps to hold the girls in low esteem because of who their mother was, but it was equally unfair that his mother was expected to make way for that harlot and her illegitimate offspring. He could not outwardly show his displeasure to his father, but that did not mean Achilleas had to make an effort to be friendly with his half-siblings.
He was surprised then and a little late to catch on, when Sara’s voice eventually piped up. that her words were directed at him. He hadn’t been paying attention and it was only when he caught his name that his attention returned to the girl at the end of the table and he blinked at her a couple of times.
“.....yes,” he replied, once he had gathered his wits about him. “It has been a long time coming.” Third time lucky and all that. After so many delays, it almost felt a miracle that the wedding was upon them. And for once, Achilleas could not maintain the usually curt tone that he reserved for Sara and her sister, his voice warming and the edge of a smile upon his lips when the conversation turned towards Theodora. “She is always beautiful, but I confess I look forward to seeing her in her bridal raiment.” And then, as if remembering himself, the lord cleared his throat and took a sip of wine before he went on. “The strengthening of bonds between Mikaelidas and Leventi is only a good thing too, and I am happy to do so.”
Because no matter what feelings he might have nursed for his bride to be, the point of this union was political, and Achilleas knew his father would only frown upon anything more sentimental. It was his duty to marry and produce heirs to ensure the continued prosperity of Mikaelidas, and he could hardly deny that the family needed some good stories about their name after recent events. Looking away from Sara and towards Emilios, he closed the subject off. “Perhaps you can talk to Lord Gavriil tomorrow about our trip, brother. Might that we could stay with him or that he knows something himself.”
Achilleas knew well enough what the Dimitrou Head of House knew, having visited him himself only days before, but his father didn’t need to know that. He obviously wanted them in Meganea for some reason.
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It would seem the man was on a roll, Emilios not escaping his ill-temper either and Achilleas set his teeth, stared very hard at the intricate carving where the tabletop met the table leg. There was no point in becoming riled, it did not help matters, but whether it was the stress of his upcoming marriage, the uncertainty around Stephanos, this overwhelming feeling that he did not trust the man in front of him...well, he was finding it harder and harder to curb his reactions.
His appetite was lacking, but Achilleas accepted a cut of meat and vegetables onto his plate, chewed and didn’t taste it. The sooner this was done the better. Even as he attempted to smooth things over, his father could not help but make another dig and, in the spirit of achieving something from this quite honestly painful conversation, his eldest child just acknowledged the rebuke with those minute of nods. His question about Stephanos was more important than his pride in this instance.
When Irakles made answer, Achilleas frowned a little. Meganea? He had never known Stephanos to spend a lot of time there. Gavriil of Dimitrou was hardly the partying kind, but he kept his expression neutral and glanced toward Emilios, brows raised.
“Of course, we can do that, can’t we? We’ll make arrangements to do so.” He wasn’t entirely sure when, though sooner rather than later was better in his book. He just wasn’t certain Theodora would be too pleased if he planned it for too soon after the wedding. About to ask where Irakles had heard that Stephanos had allies there, he broke off when Sara made a sort of strange sound like she had swallowed a frog, or was choking, and his blue gaze came to rest briefly upon the young girl at the other end of the table before flicking away again just as quickly once he had ascertained she wasn’t in mortal peril.
Of the two of the daughters that his father shared with Meena, the younger was the more tolerable, but Achilleas nevertheless avoided prolonged contact with her. It was unfair perhaps to hold the girls in low esteem because of who their mother was, but it was equally unfair that his mother was expected to make way for that harlot and her illegitimate offspring. He could not outwardly show his displeasure to his father, but that did not mean Achilleas had to make an effort to be friendly with his half-siblings.
He was surprised then and a little late to catch on, when Sara’s voice eventually piped up. that her words were directed at him. He hadn’t been paying attention and it was only when he caught his name that his attention returned to the girl at the end of the table and he blinked at her a couple of times.
“.....yes,” he replied, once he had gathered his wits about him. “It has been a long time coming.” Third time lucky and all that. After so many delays, it almost felt a miracle that the wedding was upon them. And for once, Achilleas could not maintain the usually curt tone that he reserved for Sara and her sister, his voice warming and the edge of a smile upon his lips when the conversation turned towards Theodora. “She is always beautiful, but I confess I look forward to seeing her in her bridal raiment.” And then, as if remembering himself, the lord cleared his throat and took a sip of wine before he went on. “The strengthening of bonds between Mikaelidas and Leventi is only a good thing too, and I am happy to do so.”
Because no matter what feelings he might have nursed for his bride to be, the point of this union was political, and Achilleas knew his father would only frown upon anything more sentimental. It was his duty to marry and produce heirs to ensure the continued prosperity of Mikaelidas, and he could hardly deny that the family needed some good stories about their name after recent events. Looking away from Sara and towards Emilios, he closed the subject off. “Perhaps you can talk to Lord Gavriil tomorrow about our trip, brother. Might that we could stay with him or that he knows something himself.”
Achilleas knew well enough what the Dimitrou Head of House knew, having visited him himself only days before, but his father didn’t need to know that. He obviously wanted them in Meganea for some reason.
It would seem the man was on a roll, Emilios not escaping his ill-temper either and Achilleas set his teeth, stared very hard at the intricate carving where the tabletop met the table leg. There was no point in becoming riled, it did not help matters, but whether it was the stress of his upcoming marriage, the uncertainty around Stephanos, this overwhelming feeling that he did not trust the man in front of him...well, he was finding it harder and harder to curb his reactions.
His appetite was lacking, but Achilleas accepted a cut of meat and vegetables onto his plate, chewed and didn’t taste it. The sooner this was done the better. Even as he attempted to smooth things over, his father could not help but make another dig and, in the spirit of achieving something from this quite honestly painful conversation, his eldest child just acknowledged the rebuke with those minute of nods. His question about Stephanos was more important than his pride in this instance.
When Irakles made answer, Achilleas frowned a little. Meganea? He had never known Stephanos to spend a lot of time there. Gavriil of Dimitrou was hardly the partying kind, but he kept his expression neutral and glanced toward Emilios, brows raised.
“Of course, we can do that, can’t we? We’ll make arrangements to do so.” He wasn’t entirely sure when, though sooner rather than later was better in his book. He just wasn’t certain Theodora would be too pleased if he planned it for too soon after the wedding. About to ask where Irakles had heard that Stephanos had allies there, he broke off when Sara made a sort of strange sound like she had swallowed a frog, or was choking, and his blue gaze came to rest briefly upon the young girl at the other end of the table before flicking away again just as quickly once he had ascertained she wasn’t in mortal peril.
Of the two of the daughters that his father shared with Meena, the younger was the more tolerable, but Achilleas nevertheless avoided prolonged contact with her. It was unfair perhaps to hold the girls in low esteem because of who their mother was, but it was equally unfair that his mother was expected to make way for that harlot and her illegitimate offspring. He could not outwardly show his displeasure to his father, but that did not mean Achilleas had to make an effort to be friendly with his half-siblings.
He was surprised then and a little late to catch on, when Sara’s voice eventually piped up. that her words were directed at him. He hadn’t been paying attention and it was only when he caught his name that his attention returned to the girl at the end of the table and he blinked at her a couple of times.
“.....yes,” he replied, once he had gathered his wits about him. “It has been a long time coming.” Third time lucky and all that. After so many delays, it almost felt a miracle that the wedding was upon them. And for once, Achilleas could not maintain the usually curt tone that he reserved for Sara and her sister, his voice warming and the edge of a smile upon his lips when the conversation turned towards Theodora. “She is always beautiful, but I confess I look forward to seeing her in her bridal raiment.” And then, as if remembering himself, the lord cleared his throat and took a sip of wine before he went on. “The strengthening of bonds between Mikaelidas and Leventi is only a good thing too, and I am happy to do so.”
Because no matter what feelings he might have nursed for his bride to be, the point of this union was political, and Achilleas knew his father would only frown upon anything more sentimental. It was his duty to marry and produce heirs to ensure the continued prosperity of Mikaelidas, and he could hardly deny that the family needed some good stories about their name after recent events. Looking away from Sara and towards Emilios, he closed the subject off. “Perhaps you can talk to Lord Gavriil tomorrow about our trip, brother. Might that we could stay with him or that he knows something himself.”
Achilleas knew well enough what the Dimitrou Head of House knew, having visited him himself only days before, but his father didn’t need to know that. He obviously wanted them in Meganea for some reason.
In the beginning he had been missing the court events because he hated them. There was no reason to lie about it. Why attend a function when he would have no say in anything that happened at it? Family unity aside, he was mostly a military man and preferred to stay in the shadows. His reputation was enough that people didn’t really seem to be surprised when he didn’t show up.
But the last year, most court events were skipped in favor of spending alone time with Theo. After all, if everyone was attending some event, then they were all occupied with their party and paying the two little attention. They’d used each and every skipped event to make sure they weren’t caught. But his position of second son to a second son had shifted. He no longer had Theo, no longer could get away with his absence. And yet, there was no reason to let his father’s comment about his noted behaviors bother him.
He feigned hurt, “It takes quite a bit to embarrass me, Your Highness.” There was no loss of smirk on his face, although he did allow his hand to come to his chest as if the wound had been a physical one.
No, it wasn’t until Sara made mention of Theo herself that he felt a true ache rise in his chest. He had been avoiding the idea of her, dressed in wedding finery, since the proposal had been made. In every instance where he thought of her and marriage, he was her intended. It was him riding with her to the temple, standing next to her as they were doused in water. There was never a moment in his mind where she was with someone else. Now, hearing Sara mention it, he had to stop himself from leaving the table. His emotions were kept under control, thank the Gods. But there was no denying the way the meal was turning in his stomach.
She should be his.
He had planned to marry her.
They had painted a future together, so elegantly. Usually, in the glow, they would whisper about what a future would offer them. He knew he had no real title of importance, but had hoped that the marriage would bring one, so they might be secure in their lives. They spoke of children, whispered about their desires to start something real. Now, watching his brother almost cast aside the importance of the woman made his blood boil. Did he even care for the bride? Or was this just a political union to appease their father? He cast his eyes down as he suddenly felt pity for Theo. She didn’t deserve a loveless marriage. She needed someone who could lift her up, to be a partner with her.
And suddenly, he was feeling less guilty about the conversation with Fotios.
As the attention came back to him, he simply nodded again. “I suppose I can manage to converse with him tomorrow. I am certain he will welcome us into his home and assist in the search.” There was little more he wished to say on the matter-- he had agreed to what was wished and that would have to be enough.
His eyes turned to his little sister. The girl may have been the spawn of an insulting union between their parents, but that was not her fault. And it had been easy to find himself with a soft spot for her. Emilios felt protective of her, even though his mother seemed to discourage it. There was little he cared for reputation, after all. And she was far too different that Meena, though he was not quite sure which parent she got her adorable personality from.
Both options seemed… farfetched.
“Sara, this will be one of the first weddings you’ve been able to attend, is it not? Are you excited?” Let his father and brother continue to speak of things he didn’t wish to think of. He would focus on the little sprite instead. “I have seen the feast that is waiting for us. And promise me that you will save me a dance?”
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In the beginning he had been missing the court events because he hated them. There was no reason to lie about it. Why attend a function when he would have no say in anything that happened at it? Family unity aside, he was mostly a military man and preferred to stay in the shadows. His reputation was enough that people didn’t really seem to be surprised when he didn’t show up.
But the last year, most court events were skipped in favor of spending alone time with Theo. After all, if everyone was attending some event, then they were all occupied with their party and paying the two little attention. They’d used each and every skipped event to make sure they weren’t caught. But his position of second son to a second son had shifted. He no longer had Theo, no longer could get away with his absence. And yet, there was no reason to let his father’s comment about his noted behaviors bother him.
He feigned hurt, “It takes quite a bit to embarrass me, Your Highness.” There was no loss of smirk on his face, although he did allow his hand to come to his chest as if the wound had been a physical one.
No, it wasn’t until Sara made mention of Theo herself that he felt a true ache rise in his chest. He had been avoiding the idea of her, dressed in wedding finery, since the proposal had been made. In every instance where he thought of her and marriage, he was her intended. It was him riding with her to the temple, standing next to her as they were doused in water. There was never a moment in his mind where she was with someone else. Now, hearing Sara mention it, he had to stop himself from leaving the table. His emotions were kept under control, thank the Gods. But there was no denying the way the meal was turning in his stomach.
She should be his.
He had planned to marry her.
They had painted a future together, so elegantly. Usually, in the glow, they would whisper about what a future would offer them. He knew he had no real title of importance, but had hoped that the marriage would bring one, so they might be secure in their lives. They spoke of children, whispered about their desires to start something real. Now, watching his brother almost cast aside the importance of the woman made his blood boil. Did he even care for the bride? Or was this just a political union to appease their father? He cast his eyes down as he suddenly felt pity for Theo. She didn’t deserve a loveless marriage. She needed someone who could lift her up, to be a partner with her.
And suddenly, he was feeling less guilty about the conversation with Fotios.
As the attention came back to him, he simply nodded again. “I suppose I can manage to converse with him tomorrow. I am certain he will welcome us into his home and assist in the search.” There was little more he wished to say on the matter-- he had agreed to what was wished and that would have to be enough.
His eyes turned to his little sister. The girl may have been the spawn of an insulting union between their parents, but that was not her fault. And it had been easy to find himself with a soft spot for her. Emilios felt protective of her, even though his mother seemed to discourage it. There was little he cared for reputation, after all. And she was far too different that Meena, though he was not quite sure which parent she got her adorable personality from.
Both options seemed… farfetched.
“Sara, this will be one of the first weddings you’ve been able to attend, is it not? Are you excited?” Let his father and brother continue to speak of things he didn’t wish to think of. He would focus on the little sprite instead. “I have seen the feast that is waiting for us. And promise me that you will save me a dance?”
In the beginning he had been missing the court events because he hated them. There was no reason to lie about it. Why attend a function when he would have no say in anything that happened at it? Family unity aside, he was mostly a military man and preferred to stay in the shadows. His reputation was enough that people didn’t really seem to be surprised when he didn’t show up.
But the last year, most court events were skipped in favor of spending alone time with Theo. After all, if everyone was attending some event, then they were all occupied with their party and paying the two little attention. They’d used each and every skipped event to make sure they weren’t caught. But his position of second son to a second son had shifted. He no longer had Theo, no longer could get away with his absence. And yet, there was no reason to let his father’s comment about his noted behaviors bother him.
He feigned hurt, “It takes quite a bit to embarrass me, Your Highness.” There was no loss of smirk on his face, although he did allow his hand to come to his chest as if the wound had been a physical one.
No, it wasn’t until Sara made mention of Theo herself that he felt a true ache rise in his chest. He had been avoiding the idea of her, dressed in wedding finery, since the proposal had been made. In every instance where he thought of her and marriage, he was her intended. It was him riding with her to the temple, standing next to her as they were doused in water. There was never a moment in his mind where she was with someone else. Now, hearing Sara mention it, he had to stop himself from leaving the table. His emotions were kept under control, thank the Gods. But there was no denying the way the meal was turning in his stomach.
She should be his.
He had planned to marry her.
They had painted a future together, so elegantly. Usually, in the glow, they would whisper about what a future would offer them. He knew he had no real title of importance, but had hoped that the marriage would bring one, so they might be secure in their lives. They spoke of children, whispered about their desires to start something real. Now, watching his brother almost cast aside the importance of the woman made his blood boil. Did he even care for the bride? Or was this just a political union to appease their father? He cast his eyes down as he suddenly felt pity for Theo. She didn’t deserve a loveless marriage. She needed someone who could lift her up, to be a partner with her.
And suddenly, he was feeling less guilty about the conversation with Fotios.
As the attention came back to him, he simply nodded again. “I suppose I can manage to converse with him tomorrow. I am certain he will welcome us into his home and assist in the search.” There was little more he wished to say on the matter-- he had agreed to what was wished and that would have to be enough.
His eyes turned to his little sister. The girl may have been the spawn of an insulting union between their parents, but that was not her fault. And it had been easy to find himself with a soft spot for her. Emilios felt protective of her, even though his mother seemed to discourage it. There was little he cared for reputation, after all. And she was far too different that Meena, though he was not quite sure which parent she got her adorable personality from.
Both options seemed… farfetched.
“Sara, this will be one of the first weddings you’ve been able to attend, is it not? Are you excited?” Let his father and brother continue to speak of things he didn’t wish to think of. He would focus on the little sprite instead. “I have seen the feast that is waiting for us. And promise me that you will save me a dance?”