If Selene had been given any parchment, it would have been torn to pieces with her nerves. Doubt had never run so rapidly through her. All her life, she had been a confident person. Her looks were fair, and the compliments she had received since birth had done much to make her flirtatious and sure. But now, as she found herself at the door of the Kotas manor, she was anything but sure. Had it been a mistake to think that his family would care about a simple letter?

And why had she made a point to write the Queen in the first place? Maybe it was because he had made a point to mention her strength, that she had hoped to appeal to her softer side? The whole thing had been a mistake, and even though she'd written him initially just in good faith, she was sure that it would be construed as another Leventi woman, trying to secure a fine title.

Again, damn him and his chivalry.

She was surprised to find someone waiting for her at the door. Her cheeks flushed as the obvious care he had taken to be notified of her arrival. His bow caused her to pause, simply from the shock of the action. But shaking her head gently, she offered a low curtsy to him, her head dipping low. "Your Highness, it's a pleasure to meet you." Her cheeks flushed. "While I am grateful for the offer, I must decline. I had no intention of forcing my company on your family and will take no offense on a brief visit and a quick goodbye. I do not wish to put you out, for I know your family is dealing with the added stress of an injured loved one." She gave him a smile, drawing attention to the large cask of wine she had forced the guard to carry.

"Please, accept this as a token of my gratitude for the offer." The wine had bee the last cask of fine wine that they had for the voyage, but her mother had pressed upon her to never arrive empty-handed, and she was sure her gift would be appreciated by those in the house.

Selene was obviously a bit taken back by the offer. The last thing she wanted to the family to focus on was her. They had far more to worry about then her staying, or trying to entertain her. And from what she had gathered, she wasn’t all the sure that Vangelis knew she was here. Perhaps she should have just weathered the storm.

Because the incoming hurricane felt like she was going to sink.

She sighed, nodding to the slave to take the small bag she had brought. It was enough for an overnight stay, because she was certain that she would have to leave the next morning. Following him to her rooms, he shook her head, “I couldn’t put your wife out, Your Highness. If you insist on holding me hostage,” she said, her voice turning slightly playful. Maybe she could fake confidence? “You could at least find me a vacant room, perhaps not in the family’s personal wing?”

She blinked, not at all sure if she needed to prepare. “They can put my things where they will. I suppose we could go to Prince Vangelis’s side now?” She really didn’t find a need to settle into a room she didn’t plan on staying in. Honestly, she wanted to make sure Vangelis was okay (and possibly rip up the evidence of her stupidity) and then return home.

As his wife appeared Zanon smiled, still under the impression that Evras had been informed of the general idea of the plans, though as he watched her a bit longer he felt his smile falter. He had been married to the woman for eleven years and not for nothing had he memorized several of her expressions and learned to peer through the mask that she held before her on occasion. She seemed so cold now, and that was not the image of family he wanted to project to this foreign woman.

"What, not planning to share my rooms wife?"

He tried to keep his tone lighthearted and joking, flirtatious almost as he met her gaze and keeping his smile even as she slipped from the room. Zanon smiled still as he turned back to Selene, giving a slight bow before gesturing after Evras.

"Forgive me, it appears my son is unwell. I should speak with her and be sure all is right. If you wish to rest, please do so. We shall return momentarily to bring you to my brother."

With a nod, Zanon slipped out of the room and strode after Evras, expression hardened as he reached out for her arm to try to draw her to a halt. He understood that they were not blissfully happy as they had once been, but there was no excuse for her abruptness and certainly no reason for her to hide the well being of their son from him.

"Evras. Stop. There is no reason for this behavior, she is a friend to Vangelis and I did not mean to displace you. Only that your chambers are closest and much unoccupied of late. I had intended to ask if you would stay with me."

Zan kept a grip on her, afraid of what she would do if he let go. Whether or not the rumors about her were true, if she had put a spell on him that was now broken, he had no desire to test it. The tension between them was so much that after a moment it felt as if his hand was burning. He sighed and released her after a long moment, trying to meet her gaze without being shaken by that pale stare that had once so entranced him.

"How is our son? Why is he abed at this hour?"

"Because our bed has been cold of late. In this time it is imperative we present a united front, Princess Evras."

There was a bite to his own tone, especially as he spat out her name and the title he'd given her in their marriage. He kept a firm grip on her arm even as she tried to tug away. While there was a guest in the home of high rank, sister to the potential Queen of Taengea from what he had last heard, they had to show no cracks in the foundation of their family. Even if the woman on arrival had nothing against them, if the country had no whims whatsoever to use this against them, a strong family front could do wonders to deter anyone from acting against them. Even if it meant sharing his bed once more with a witch.

"You will see to Dion's health, and return to my chambers with me after dinner. In the morning, you will be seen leaving those rooms, and as far as anyone is to know we are a happy, loving family."

Zanon released her from his grip, taking a step back and preparing to turn back before once more facing his wife.

"And you will stop babying Dion. He is a prince of Colchis, not a puppy to be doted upon. He remains here when you return to your father's house."

With that final ultimatum, he turned his back on the woman in the hall, striding back toward the room where he had left their visitor. It was time to paste the smile back on and resume the charming breezy attitude for her viewing pleasure, he would argue with Evras behind closed doors when there was not someone so close to overhear. Stepping back into the room, he gave a bow to Selene once more with a worn smile.

"Forgive me, my lady. All appears to be well, if you are ready I believe Vangelis is awake last I had heard."

Selene knew familial drama. With 4 sisters, it was impossible not to have moments of artificial drama, created for the sake of attention. Nana was the worse, always assuming that things were far more theatrical then they needed to be. So as she watched the interaction between the two, husband and wife, she couldn't help but quietly wonder what had happened. How had things dissolved for them, to masked cordial remarks and slighted feelings? Being in the wife's room, she couldn't help but feel like she was only making it worse. Her intuition to leave, to simply let the note be, had been correct.

She was causing more problems, and it was frustrating.

Still, her eyes traveled around the room, taking in the stark and sparse room. There were no personal items that she could find, but that could have just been a sign of a well-kept home. Taking a seat on the bed, she sat on her hands, truly unsure what she was supposed to do. He was going out of his way to show her a kindness (granted, it was a kindness she pretty much forced on him), but now she seemed to be causing issues within the family. And that had certainly never been her intention. Her hand came up to the pendant around her neck, playing with the gemstone as she prayed for guidance. Perhaps, while he was distracted, she could leave and pretend like she had never attempted to visit a man she hardly knew.

And yet...

She was here. Normally, at home, she would have been bold, flirtatious and brave. Her world had been rocked with the attacks at the Circus, causing her to second guess everything. She felt small, far smaller than she ever had. And she hated it. Maybe this was a chance to feel more like herself. To take back the naivety that had been taken by the Creed. She didn't need to be afraid of her actions. She was a Leventi, a family well respected in her own kingdom. She had to trust that if Vangelis truly did not wish to have her company, that he would at least give her honesty and allow her to be on her way. Her constitution wasn't so fragile that she couldn't handle the rejection.

There was only so much she could control.

As she was gathering her thoughts, the younger prince returned to the room, his face bright. And her own demeanor seemed to shift a bit, most doubts in herself sent out the door with his retreat. Now, she at least felt like she could be a guest without the guilt that had been raging behind it. "That is good, Your Highness. I would feel most horrible for demanding your attention while your son was in need of you. Perhaps you can take me to Prince Vangelis now, which will free you up to look in on him yourself. I know that when my sisters are ill, I am unable to truly focus until I have seen them with my own eyes to confirm their condition. I am almost sure I will be able to find my way back to this room, once I have bored your brother with tales of my recent travels." Her confidence seemed to grow a bit. "Lead the way, Your Highness."

She could do this.

Right?

Being injured was in no way amusing.

Vangelis had decided this many years ago after one of his early military campaigns had him break a femur. His horse had been startled by a stray arrow, set alight and frightening in its proximity to the creature’s eyes, despite it never reaching its target. The horse had bucked and while Vangelis had maintained control of the creature, its back hoof had moved to land awkwardly on rough ground and the gelding had fallen onto him. While the animal had been mostly unhurt and had been able to scramble free, releasing Vangelis to stand back up, the crown prince of Colchis had been less lucky, suffering a broken thigh bone.

Determination combined by a Gods's blessed lack of fear and Vangelis had pulled himself up onto the back of his now righted horse and continue the battle, steering with his reins over his legs. The agony of a jostled, broken femur had been intense but it was nothing like the pain of the weeks after, waiting for it to heal.

Vangelis was not a man who liked to be lying down. He didn't care for relaxation. Didn't enjoy peaceful repose. Instead, he was a man of action. Someone who needed his mind and body constantly doing something. Even when he felt the need to escape his own life and duties, as people always did from time to time, Vangelis would go for a walk or for a ride. He would never just sit still in order to calm his thoughts. Being still was an agony all its own.

Which meant that Vangelis was famous in his unit for never waiting the appointed timeframe before getting up and moving around when injured in battle. He was sitting up at a desk working with that broken femur within a week and walking on it within four. He had broken his arm once before too, when a soldier had bent his shield bracer back, snapping his elbow in the wrong direction. He had simply continued about his duties with his arm supported on as strip of fabric tied around his neck. Being struck with an arrow in his shoulder blade during that night raid hadn't paused him for even a moment.

On the rare occasions they saw their General being taken to the infirmary tent after a battle, Vangelis' men were used to seeing him out and about on his patrols soon after, bandaged in some way, but still performing his duties to the highest standards. He just couldn't be still.

This time, however, Vangelis was not out on some foreign soil or out on Ares' dancefloor. He was at home. Surrounded by siblings and parents just as stubborn as he was and all who had confined him to bed rest. While he was always the highest-ranking individual in the wilds of his wartime campaigns and could make his decisions despite advice to the contrary, Vangelis could not - and would not - disobey direct orders from his father. And his brothers were just as bad.

Yiannis had taken control of his own military men - the Red Knights who were kept in constant training when they weren't on leave. Zanon had stolen access to all his correspondence and paperwork, and Silas had played arrogant (and highly amused) bodyguard whenever his normal shadow in the form of Nike of Acaris had needed sleep.

Vangelis loved his family. And he was ready to kill each and every one of them.

Instead, Vangelis had sought to amuse himself, keeping his mind working. Not a talker by nature he had recited military drills in his head, old songs he had learnt as a child, the hand to hand combat routines he had been trained in. For the first few days of his recovery, this was all he could do given the state of his bones and how it was impossible for him to place any kind of weight or strength into the right-hand side of his body. Every time he went to do something innocuous, like scratch his nose or adjust his bedding - which given he was right handed was all the time - he was sent reeling and serious nausea in the stomach, a pounding headache and shots of fiery agony running up and down his joints.

Now, nearly a week since his escape from the mines, he was doing better and his days passed by with a tad more ease. Being able to sit up meant that he was able to feed himself, get his own drink when parched and even get some work done.

Sitting there in his bed, Vangelis had managed to pull himself up to sit against a mound of cushions at the head of his bed. It had taken several inchings of movement and several paused for breath, but he had managed to get himself into a position that didn't kill both his arm and leg and, after ten minutes or so, the pain had subsided. How, he was able to sit relatively comfortably (provided he didn't move) with just an angry dull throbbing running up and down his right side. His limbs felt heavy and his skin tight, but that was likely due to the bandages that were now wrapped from shoulder to wrist and from hipbone to toe. There were even reels of it wrapped around his bare chest in order to secure the wrappings over his shoulder.

The stark, crimson veins that had been inching over his skin for a day or so after his accident had thankfully receded. Dimas has nodded upon seeing it, pleased that his blood flow seemed to have gotten back into rhythm and that he was now less likely to lose his limbs. Something Vangelis was profoundly grateful for. He didn't want to even contemplate what would have happened if he had lost two of his four limbs.

With renewed blood flow came renewed bruising which the physician also claimed to be a good sign, though it made Vangelis look even worse than he had when he had been dragged from the mine. Now purple down the entirety of both the wrapped-up limbs, the black and blue bruising had not been contained by the strips of white and, instead, leeched over his skin. Half his chest had been infected with it. More blotches - these ones more healed and now mauve instead of black - blossomed over his opposing shoulder, his arm, his pectoral, and all down his back. He had a long laceration down his left bicep which had been left to heal in the air as it had stopped bleeding since being sewn up and his right temple, eye and cheekbone were bruised. The dozens of mini scrapes and cuts that had been inflicted on his person everywhere else had progressed to the healing stage, now just rough patches of dried blood, the scab protecting new skin.

It turned out falling down a mine shaft and being buried alive did you no favours in the looks department.

Luckily, his core temperature was now full back to normal and his life was in no danger from his injuries. The pig bladders he had been forced to lie with for another three days after his accident were finally gone and the physician had stopped coating him in that strange pepper oil, so at least he no-longer smelt like a roasted dinner.

He'd even managed to have a bath that morning when the physician had come to change his bandages. With several very awkward and embarrassed ladies maids helping him in and out of the tub.

Despite half his body being mummified and more of his skin being purple than his normal tan - oh and the random scabbing cuts and lacerations - Vangelis felt more or less back to his old self. At least internally. He still couldn't really move.

And so, he had been forced to come up with his own entertainment.

Requesting small bundle of parchment, a stylus and some ink, Vangelis had spent the day, so far, working on tactical manoeuvres and drills for his military unit. The parchment in front of him was covered in doodles and markings, shapes and arrows for how the men would move and react in battle. Courage was one thing but without strategy behind it, blind bravery could get you killed. And when you were a leader, it could get many people killed.

With his right hand, his directions and drawings were more elegant. Vangelis actually had a surprising knack for such things but had never explored it. There was no need of a crown prince who could draw. And instead, he had kept such a skill where it could be of use - in his combat documents.

The ones that were before him now were absent of any such talent as he was working them with his left hand. But they were usable and he was, for at least the majority of it, satisfied.

When his brother stepped into the room, Vangelis did not bother to look up.

He had been listening to his brothers move about his home since he was a small boy and knew the sound of Zanon’s footsteps better than the man probably knew his own. His mind assumed that the light step behind him was female and therefore a serving girl or slave.

Instead, Zanon cleared his throat to attract his attention and Vangelis looked up from his work, his stylus stilling against the parchment as he looked across at his brother. The man had a look on his face and a gleam in his eye that his eldest brother knew so well and Vangelis's frown was instant.

When Zanon announced a visitor, his frown deepened further. Zanon knew Vangelis wasn't exactly presentable - forget his injuries and obvious beatings, he was also naked beneath his blankets! Yet this didn't seem to slow his brother's amusement... (Of course not)... and Vangelis instead, simply ensured that his covers were secure around his middle (is chest would have to be left - it had taken him nearly an hour to sit up and he wasn't lying down again) and looked toward the door as a beautiful blonde he instantly recognised stepped into the room.

Immediately confused, Vangelis turned to glare at his brother, his silent malice demanding an explanation. What the hell had Zanon done to bring Selene of Leventi across the seas?

At his brother's words about being charming, Vangelis felt like flicking a rude gesture his way but refused to lose such decorum in front of a female guest. Instead, he simply smoothed out his features and nodded his head formally to the lady, giving a half inclination of his chest which hurt like hell and caused him to wince.

"My Lady..." He greeted. "You were... not expected." He said, with another moment of eye contact with his brother that promised vengeful retribution. Being seen on his back and bedridden was humiliating. Unsure of what else to say, Vangelis simply fell back onto formality. "I... I hope your journey was peaceful and safe." He told her, only to catch his brother make a face.

What did the damn man expect him to do? Flirt while he was physically incapable of scratching his own backside? How charming...