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He had been fine in one moment; counselling with his steward about what should be done with those things of his father’s that the man had brought with him for his brief tenure at the palati. Perhaps Meena or Tasia or Sarah would like them? Those things could be carefully packed and transported. Any papers would be gone through and those that needed any further attention would be passed to Achilleas. It was all practical; problems that required solutions, actionable efforts. And the new King had been keeping himself busy with such things since the wedding, because as he kept telling Theodora, there was so much that needed doing. He had been handling everything with a brisk sort of efficiency. He was fine.
Which meant Achilleas wasn’t prepared for the sudden and very visceral reaction that he had to the steward’s innocuous question. “And is there anything of your Father’s effects that your majesty would like to retain?”
He had paused in reading over the scroll in front of him and lifted his gaze to the face of the servant, a knot trying in his throat, a strange pressure in his chest that made him afraid to open his mouth because he wasn’t sure his voice would be anything acceptable.
Your father’s effects.Your majesty.
The simplest of words, and yet somehow they felt like a blow, like the air had been knocked from him.
Right. Yes. Because he was dead. He was dead and Achilleas was King, and he wasn’t supposed to be affected like this.
“I have to go. We’ll discuss this later” Thankfully, the man’s voice did not waver as he stood and pushed back from the table he had been sitting at, ignoring the surprised expression upon the face of the steward at the curt conclusion to what had been a whole morning’s worth of planned work. Achilleas felt the need to escape the scrutiny of the litany of advisors and scribes that had become his social circle, wanted a moment just away from it, and he burst from the chamber they had been using rather more dramatically that he would have liked, the guards outside the door snapping into a salute which the King did not acknowledge, and then scrambling to follow the man down the hallway where he was striding away.
Achilleas resented their presence at his heels then. All he wanted was a moment to himself and he could not even get that. That same tightness in his throat did not let him give the command for them to stay, to cease following him, and for a moment he felt like a caged lion, even in the vast expanse of the Palati that he could now call his home. Hallway upon hallway stretched ahead, and so in a last ditch attempt to find some privacy so he could get a hold of himself, Achilleas threw his broad shoulder against a door immediately to his left. The slam of it closing behind him was enough to have the guards exchange glances and position themselves a respectful distance from the entryway. They had found themselves with yet another new monarch to learn, and up until, the new King had proven remarkably even-tempered, so this was something different.
Within, Achilleas leant back against the door, the crown that he wore making a dull thunk as it hit the wood, and he swallowed around the thick feeling his throat, trying to still whatever it was that threatened to overcome his poise and calm. Movement from the corner of his vision had him turn sharply, hand already reaching toward the ceremonial sword that hung at his waist, and it took a moment before the warrior had dismissed the threat, recognised the young woman who stared back at him.
He looked a little lost then, bewildered as to why she was there and still wrestling with the upset that had caught him entirely unprepared. Her name fell like a question. “Briseis?”
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He had been fine in one moment; counselling with his steward about what should be done with those things of his father’s that the man had brought with him for his brief tenure at the palati. Perhaps Meena or Tasia or Sarah would like them? Those things could be carefully packed and transported. Any papers would be gone through and those that needed any further attention would be passed to Achilleas. It was all practical; problems that required solutions, actionable efforts. And the new King had been keeping himself busy with such things since the wedding, because as he kept telling Theodora, there was so much that needed doing. He had been handling everything with a brisk sort of efficiency. He was fine.
Which meant Achilleas wasn’t prepared for the sudden and very visceral reaction that he had to the steward’s innocuous question. “And is there anything of your Father’s effects that your majesty would like to retain?”
He had paused in reading over the scroll in front of him and lifted his gaze to the face of the servant, a knot trying in his throat, a strange pressure in his chest that made him afraid to open his mouth because he wasn’t sure his voice would be anything acceptable.
Your father’s effects.Your majesty.
The simplest of words, and yet somehow they felt like a blow, like the air had been knocked from him.
Right. Yes. Because he was dead. He was dead and Achilleas was King, and he wasn’t supposed to be affected like this.
“I have to go. We’ll discuss this later” Thankfully, the man’s voice did not waver as he stood and pushed back from the table he had been sitting at, ignoring the surprised expression upon the face of the steward at the curt conclusion to what had been a whole morning’s worth of planned work. Achilleas felt the need to escape the scrutiny of the litany of advisors and scribes that had become his social circle, wanted a moment just away from it, and he burst from the chamber they had been using rather more dramatically that he would have liked, the guards outside the door snapping into a salute which the King did not acknowledge, and then scrambling to follow the man down the hallway where he was striding away.
Achilleas resented their presence at his heels then. All he wanted was a moment to himself and he could not even get that. That same tightness in his throat did not let him give the command for them to stay, to cease following him, and for a moment he felt like a caged lion, even in the vast expanse of the Palati that he could now call his home. Hallway upon hallway stretched ahead, and so in a last ditch attempt to find some privacy so he could get a hold of himself, Achilleas threw his broad shoulder against a door immediately to his left. The slam of it closing behind him was enough to have the guards exchange glances and position themselves a respectful distance from the entryway. They had found themselves with yet another new monarch to learn, and up until, the new King had proven remarkably even-tempered, so this was something different.
Within, Achilleas leant back against the door, the crown that he wore making a dull thunk as it hit the wood, and he swallowed around the thick feeling his throat, trying to still whatever it was that threatened to overcome his poise and calm. Movement from the corner of his vision had him turn sharply, hand already reaching toward the ceremonial sword that hung at his waist, and it took a moment before the warrior had dismissed the threat, recognised the young woman who stared back at him.
He looked a little lost then, bewildered as to why she was there and still wrestling with the upset that had caught him entirely unprepared. Her name fell like a question. “Briseis?”
He had been fine in one moment; counselling with his steward about what should be done with those things of his father’s that the man had brought with him for his brief tenure at the palati. Perhaps Meena or Tasia or Sarah would like them? Those things could be carefully packed and transported. Any papers would be gone through and those that needed any further attention would be passed to Achilleas. It was all practical; problems that required solutions, actionable efforts. And the new King had been keeping himself busy with such things since the wedding, because as he kept telling Theodora, there was so much that needed doing. He had been handling everything with a brisk sort of efficiency. He was fine.
Which meant Achilleas wasn’t prepared for the sudden and very visceral reaction that he had to the steward’s innocuous question. “And is there anything of your Father’s effects that your majesty would like to retain?”
He had paused in reading over the scroll in front of him and lifted his gaze to the face of the servant, a knot trying in his throat, a strange pressure in his chest that made him afraid to open his mouth because he wasn’t sure his voice would be anything acceptable.
Your father’s effects.Your majesty.
The simplest of words, and yet somehow they felt like a blow, like the air had been knocked from him.
Right. Yes. Because he was dead. He was dead and Achilleas was King, and he wasn’t supposed to be affected like this.
“I have to go. We’ll discuss this later” Thankfully, the man’s voice did not waver as he stood and pushed back from the table he had been sitting at, ignoring the surprised expression upon the face of the steward at the curt conclusion to what had been a whole morning’s worth of planned work. Achilleas felt the need to escape the scrutiny of the litany of advisors and scribes that had become his social circle, wanted a moment just away from it, and he burst from the chamber they had been using rather more dramatically that he would have liked, the guards outside the door snapping into a salute which the King did not acknowledge, and then scrambling to follow the man down the hallway where he was striding away.
Achilleas resented their presence at his heels then. All he wanted was a moment to himself and he could not even get that. That same tightness in his throat did not let him give the command for them to stay, to cease following him, and for a moment he felt like a caged lion, even in the vast expanse of the Palati that he could now call his home. Hallway upon hallway stretched ahead, and so in a last ditch attempt to find some privacy so he could get a hold of himself, Achilleas threw his broad shoulder against a door immediately to his left. The slam of it closing behind him was enough to have the guards exchange glances and position themselves a respectful distance from the entryway. They had found themselves with yet another new monarch to learn, and up until, the new King had proven remarkably even-tempered, so this was something different.
Within, Achilleas leant back against the door, the crown that he wore making a dull thunk as it hit the wood, and he swallowed around the thick feeling his throat, trying to still whatever it was that threatened to overcome his poise and calm. Movement from the corner of his vision had him turn sharply, hand already reaching toward the ceremonial sword that hung at his waist, and it took a moment before the warrior had dismissed the threat, recognised the young woman who stared back at him.
He looked a little lost then, bewildered as to why she was there and still wrestling with the upset that had caught him entirely unprepared. Her name fell like a question. “Briseis?”
The death of the patriarch of the Mikaelidas family had left everyone reeling, especially the staff who had served him for so many years. When one leader died, there was always a period of upheaval, but in this instance Irakles had not only been head of the house and employer, but a stoic rock through the chaos of the kingdom. Taengea had seen three kings since the spring, and now it was about to crown the fourth before the year was out.
Moving from Eubocris and the manor in town meant that everything was in chaos. The things that Irakles had begun to move into the palace hadn't replaced what King Stephanos and Queen Olympia had left behind, and now that Achilleas was moving his own household into the palati things had become cramped to say the least. She had been tasked with clearing out a room that had been in the queen's suite, the trunk of items she was to move in was in the process of being emptied onto the floor so the old belongings could be taken away in it until their new royal majesties could go through them.
As if Hades himself was squeezing her heart, Briseis stared at the objects within the trunk she'd been tasked with sorting and tried to remind herself that she was not trapped here. She could leave whenever she liked, go back to her brother, the temple, find employment elsewhere. She wouldn't have to see him or think of him anymore, her former lover who was now king, if only she were brave enough to leave. Instead she had remained to watch his apparent marital bliss, watched his affection with his rich Leventi wife grow, even as she spent as much time as possible avoiding it. She'd warned him he would regret it, but perhaps he already knew and didn't care.
Slamming wood and the thunk of metal startled a scream from her, hands clapping over her mouth to silence herself as she stood upright and stared at the very man she'd been thinking of. Frozen in place, the hand that landed on his sword sent her a step back in fear until recognition hit him. Glad he hadn't stormed in with the intent of getting rid of her, she swallowed and tipped her chin up at him instead of bowing.
"Sir."
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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The death of the patriarch of the Mikaelidas family had left everyone reeling, especially the staff who had served him for so many years. When one leader died, there was always a period of upheaval, but in this instance Irakles had not only been head of the house and employer, but a stoic rock through the chaos of the kingdom. Taengea had seen three kings since the spring, and now it was about to crown the fourth before the year was out.
Moving from Eubocris and the manor in town meant that everything was in chaos. The things that Irakles had begun to move into the palace hadn't replaced what King Stephanos and Queen Olympia had left behind, and now that Achilleas was moving his own household into the palati things had become cramped to say the least. She had been tasked with clearing out a room that had been in the queen's suite, the trunk of items she was to move in was in the process of being emptied onto the floor so the old belongings could be taken away in it until their new royal majesties could go through them.
As if Hades himself was squeezing her heart, Briseis stared at the objects within the trunk she'd been tasked with sorting and tried to remind herself that she was not trapped here. She could leave whenever she liked, go back to her brother, the temple, find employment elsewhere. She wouldn't have to see him or think of him anymore, her former lover who was now king, if only she were brave enough to leave. Instead she had remained to watch his apparent marital bliss, watched his affection with his rich Leventi wife grow, even as she spent as much time as possible avoiding it. She'd warned him he would regret it, but perhaps he already knew and didn't care.
Slamming wood and the thunk of metal startled a scream from her, hands clapping over her mouth to silence herself as she stood upright and stared at the very man she'd been thinking of. Frozen in place, the hand that landed on his sword sent her a step back in fear until recognition hit him. Glad he hadn't stormed in with the intent of getting rid of her, she swallowed and tipped her chin up at him instead of bowing.
"Sir."
The death of the patriarch of the Mikaelidas family had left everyone reeling, especially the staff who had served him for so many years. When one leader died, there was always a period of upheaval, but in this instance Irakles had not only been head of the house and employer, but a stoic rock through the chaos of the kingdom. Taengea had seen three kings since the spring, and now it was about to crown the fourth before the year was out.
Moving from Eubocris and the manor in town meant that everything was in chaos. The things that Irakles had begun to move into the palace hadn't replaced what King Stephanos and Queen Olympia had left behind, and now that Achilleas was moving his own household into the palati things had become cramped to say the least. She had been tasked with clearing out a room that had been in the queen's suite, the trunk of items she was to move in was in the process of being emptied onto the floor so the old belongings could be taken away in it until their new royal majesties could go through them.
As if Hades himself was squeezing her heart, Briseis stared at the objects within the trunk she'd been tasked with sorting and tried to remind herself that she was not trapped here. She could leave whenever she liked, go back to her brother, the temple, find employment elsewhere. She wouldn't have to see him or think of him anymore, her former lover who was now king, if only she were brave enough to leave. Instead she had remained to watch his apparent marital bliss, watched his affection with his rich Leventi wife grow, even as she spent as much time as possible avoiding it. She'd warned him he would regret it, but perhaps he already knew and didn't care.
Slamming wood and the thunk of metal startled a scream from her, hands clapping over her mouth to silence herself as she stood upright and stared at the very man she'd been thinking of. Frozen in place, the hand that landed on his sword sent her a step back in fear until recognition hit him. Glad he hadn't stormed in with the intent of getting rid of her, she swallowed and tipped her chin up at him instead of bowing.
"Sir."
He felt foolish as he let his hand drop from the sword, frowned in confusion as he tried to make sense of why she was here. The King’s gaze shifted from Briseis to the trunk and back again, and he looked around the room he’d burst into as if trying to orientate himself. There were so many rooms in the palati that he didn’t even know existed, and it seemed he could not find an empty one no matter how hard he tried. For a moment, Achilleas considered just turning and leaving, but he didn’t want to be faced with anyone else just yet, and so he did not. Instead, he took a further step into the room as she made no effort to afford him the respect the crown atop his head demanded. There was a slight frown at that, but Achilleas did not pick her up on it.
“You are moving things from the archontiko” he stated, mostly for his own benefit, because the maid surely knew what she was doing well enough, but he was just making sense of why she would be there. Distracted, he crossed the room and flung himself carelessly onto the kline there, taking the crown from his head and running an agitated hand through his hair. He had wanted to be alone, and yet somehow, Briseis was not unwelcome company. Perhaps because whatever the nature of their arrangement had been, she had been a more constant companion to him than any other lover he’d had, and there was less to risk in losing face in front of her. He didn’t know.
What he was sure of was the need to get himself away from the sharp, observant gazes of the royal advisors as he felt a sudden cracking of that control he’d been been so careful in upholding ever since… He needed to breathe. Needed to distract himself.
“I didn’t know you were in here” Achilleas said, wrenching his gaze away from the band of metal that he turned within his hands, settling it instead upon the woman who had so often offered him easement. He had no right to ask anything of her, he knew, and yet… and yet he had not left the room, had taken a seat and now let himself look at her. That hair that he knew the texture of, had threaded his fingers through and wrapped around his fist. The blue eyes that were not so soft as they had been, but that held his own anyway.
Briseis was familiar and comfortable, and he had been thrust into a situation where most everything else felt like an unknown, so perhaps it was not surprising that he did not immediately remove himself from her presence, despite what might have been considered prudent. And perhaps that was why he suddenly blurted “They are clearing out my father’s things”, realising as he said it that it was that which had bothered him.
It had fallen to Emilios to deal with things back at the archontiko, and so Achilleas had been mostly insulated from those things that made accepting the man’s death a reality. And he had made certain he was busy enough that he didn’t have time to think about it. Now though, it had been casually added into the day’s agenda and he was reeling from it.
There were no simple emotions that Achilleas could identify when he thought of his father. The man had been a hard taskmaster, and quick to pour scorn when his exacting standards were not met. But he had been a force of nature and left a void that so far, his eldest son had been doing a fine job of ignoring. “I don’t know why it bothers me. They are just things.” He wasn’t sure why he was talking, only that he needed to say it to try and make the point to himself. And Briseis seemed as good a person to talk to as anyone.
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Check out their information page here.
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He felt foolish as he let his hand drop from the sword, frowned in confusion as he tried to make sense of why she was here. The King’s gaze shifted from Briseis to the trunk and back again, and he looked around the room he’d burst into as if trying to orientate himself. There were so many rooms in the palati that he didn’t even know existed, and it seemed he could not find an empty one no matter how hard he tried. For a moment, Achilleas considered just turning and leaving, but he didn’t want to be faced with anyone else just yet, and so he did not. Instead, he took a further step into the room as she made no effort to afford him the respect the crown atop his head demanded. There was a slight frown at that, but Achilleas did not pick her up on it.
“You are moving things from the archontiko” he stated, mostly for his own benefit, because the maid surely knew what she was doing well enough, but he was just making sense of why she would be there. Distracted, he crossed the room and flung himself carelessly onto the kline there, taking the crown from his head and running an agitated hand through his hair. He had wanted to be alone, and yet somehow, Briseis was not unwelcome company. Perhaps because whatever the nature of their arrangement had been, she had been a more constant companion to him than any other lover he’d had, and there was less to risk in losing face in front of her. He didn’t know.
What he was sure of was the need to get himself away from the sharp, observant gazes of the royal advisors as he felt a sudden cracking of that control he’d been been so careful in upholding ever since… He needed to breathe. Needed to distract himself.
“I didn’t know you were in here” Achilleas said, wrenching his gaze away from the band of metal that he turned within his hands, settling it instead upon the woman who had so often offered him easement. He had no right to ask anything of her, he knew, and yet… and yet he had not left the room, had taken a seat and now let himself look at her. That hair that he knew the texture of, had threaded his fingers through and wrapped around his fist. The blue eyes that were not so soft as they had been, but that held his own anyway.
Briseis was familiar and comfortable, and he had been thrust into a situation where most everything else felt like an unknown, so perhaps it was not surprising that he did not immediately remove himself from her presence, despite what might have been considered prudent. And perhaps that was why he suddenly blurted “They are clearing out my father’s things”, realising as he said it that it was that which had bothered him.
It had fallen to Emilios to deal with things back at the archontiko, and so Achilleas had been mostly insulated from those things that made accepting the man’s death a reality. And he had made certain he was busy enough that he didn’t have time to think about it. Now though, it had been casually added into the day’s agenda and he was reeling from it.
There were no simple emotions that Achilleas could identify when he thought of his father. The man had been a hard taskmaster, and quick to pour scorn when his exacting standards were not met. But he had been a force of nature and left a void that so far, his eldest son had been doing a fine job of ignoring. “I don’t know why it bothers me. They are just things.” He wasn’t sure why he was talking, only that he needed to say it to try and make the point to himself. And Briseis seemed as good a person to talk to as anyone.
He felt foolish as he let his hand drop from the sword, frowned in confusion as he tried to make sense of why she was here. The King’s gaze shifted from Briseis to the trunk and back again, and he looked around the room he’d burst into as if trying to orientate himself. There were so many rooms in the palati that he didn’t even know existed, and it seemed he could not find an empty one no matter how hard he tried. For a moment, Achilleas considered just turning and leaving, but he didn’t want to be faced with anyone else just yet, and so he did not. Instead, he took a further step into the room as she made no effort to afford him the respect the crown atop his head demanded. There was a slight frown at that, but Achilleas did not pick her up on it.
“You are moving things from the archontiko” he stated, mostly for his own benefit, because the maid surely knew what she was doing well enough, but he was just making sense of why she would be there. Distracted, he crossed the room and flung himself carelessly onto the kline there, taking the crown from his head and running an agitated hand through his hair. He had wanted to be alone, and yet somehow, Briseis was not unwelcome company. Perhaps because whatever the nature of their arrangement had been, she had been a more constant companion to him than any other lover he’d had, and there was less to risk in losing face in front of her. He didn’t know.
What he was sure of was the need to get himself away from the sharp, observant gazes of the royal advisors as he felt a sudden cracking of that control he’d been been so careful in upholding ever since… He needed to breathe. Needed to distract himself.
“I didn’t know you were in here” Achilleas said, wrenching his gaze away from the band of metal that he turned within his hands, settling it instead upon the woman who had so often offered him easement. He had no right to ask anything of her, he knew, and yet… and yet he had not left the room, had taken a seat and now let himself look at her. That hair that he knew the texture of, had threaded his fingers through and wrapped around his fist. The blue eyes that were not so soft as they had been, but that held his own anyway.
Briseis was familiar and comfortable, and he had been thrust into a situation where most everything else felt like an unknown, so perhaps it was not surprising that he did not immediately remove himself from her presence, despite what might have been considered prudent. And perhaps that was why he suddenly blurted “They are clearing out my father’s things”, realising as he said it that it was that which had bothered him.
It had fallen to Emilios to deal with things back at the archontiko, and so Achilleas had been mostly insulated from those things that made accepting the man’s death a reality. And he had made certain he was busy enough that he didn’t have time to think about it. Now though, it had been casually added into the day’s agenda and he was reeling from it.
There were no simple emotions that Achilleas could identify when he thought of his father. The man had been a hard taskmaster, and quick to pour scorn when his exacting standards were not met. But he had been a force of nature and left a void that so far, his eldest son had been doing a fine job of ignoring. “I don’t know why it bothers me. They are just things.” He wasn’t sure why he was talking, only that he needed to say it to try and make the point to himself. And Briseis seemed as good a person to talk to as anyone.
Crossing her arms over her chest as he stared at her, she met his gaze without faltering. In a time past she might have slipped across the space between them, tucked herself against his chest and held him if he appeared to her in such a manner. That time had vanished with his callous words when he'd cast her aside, but the urge and instinct to comfort him was still annoyingly present. One didn't spend years sharing time and a bed for that to simply fade away.
"Yes."
There was such an awkward space between them, his obvious statement underscored by the trunk full of objects and the collection she'd gathered around her in her attempts to fulfill her task. Unless he thought he'd walked in on her trying to steal a good deal of valuable, useless, items. Perhaps he thought she wanted more than the gold necklace he'd sent. Ready to be on edge in case of an accusation, she let her arms drop as he instead lay himself down on the kline, staring in confusion at his behavior. This was far more akin to the way he'd acted when he found her waiting for him in his rooms after a long day, days when she had traced her hands through his dark hair and rubbed oils into his sore muscles, and then slipped away when he finally slept.
Instinct pushed her toward him until he spoke once more and broke the spell, turning her back to the items she'd been meant to unpack. "You can order me out, if you like. You are king." An ornate vase was lifted from the container and she turned it over in her hands before crossing to the table it was meant to rest upon. He would tire of her frankness no doubt, send her off or remove her from her position, he didn't have reason to be soft to her anymore.
Briseis turned to face him at the next outburst, expression on not of pity but understanding, and resignation. "Yes." Achilleas was not handling the passing so well as he had been appearing to, it would seem, yet why on earth would he find himself here, speaking to her, instead of curling up in his new wife's ample bosom. With a courage she didn't quite feel, she stepped closer to the kline, resting a hand on the back of it as she looked down at him.
"It was a loss. Whatever your feelings for him. I hated my father for leaving. But when we heard he'd died, there was a grief."
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Crossing her arms over her chest as he stared at her, she met his gaze without faltering. In a time past she might have slipped across the space between them, tucked herself against his chest and held him if he appeared to her in such a manner. That time had vanished with his callous words when he'd cast her aside, but the urge and instinct to comfort him was still annoyingly present. One didn't spend years sharing time and a bed for that to simply fade away.
"Yes."
There was such an awkward space between them, his obvious statement underscored by the trunk full of objects and the collection she'd gathered around her in her attempts to fulfill her task. Unless he thought he'd walked in on her trying to steal a good deal of valuable, useless, items. Perhaps he thought she wanted more than the gold necklace he'd sent. Ready to be on edge in case of an accusation, she let her arms drop as he instead lay himself down on the kline, staring in confusion at his behavior. This was far more akin to the way he'd acted when he found her waiting for him in his rooms after a long day, days when she had traced her hands through his dark hair and rubbed oils into his sore muscles, and then slipped away when he finally slept.
Instinct pushed her toward him until he spoke once more and broke the spell, turning her back to the items she'd been meant to unpack. "You can order me out, if you like. You are king." An ornate vase was lifted from the container and she turned it over in her hands before crossing to the table it was meant to rest upon. He would tire of her frankness no doubt, send her off or remove her from her position, he didn't have reason to be soft to her anymore.
Briseis turned to face him at the next outburst, expression on not of pity but understanding, and resignation. "Yes." Achilleas was not handling the passing so well as he had been appearing to, it would seem, yet why on earth would he find himself here, speaking to her, instead of curling up in his new wife's ample bosom. With a courage she didn't quite feel, she stepped closer to the kline, resting a hand on the back of it as she looked down at him.
"It was a loss. Whatever your feelings for him. I hated my father for leaving. But when we heard he'd died, there was a grief."
Crossing her arms over her chest as he stared at her, she met his gaze without faltering. In a time past she might have slipped across the space between them, tucked herself against his chest and held him if he appeared to her in such a manner. That time had vanished with his callous words when he'd cast her aside, but the urge and instinct to comfort him was still annoyingly present. One didn't spend years sharing time and a bed for that to simply fade away.
"Yes."
There was such an awkward space between them, his obvious statement underscored by the trunk full of objects and the collection she'd gathered around her in her attempts to fulfill her task. Unless he thought he'd walked in on her trying to steal a good deal of valuable, useless, items. Perhaps he thought she wanted more than the gold necklace he'd sent. Ready to be on edge in case of an accusation, she let her arms drop as he instead lay himself down on the kline, staring in confusion at his behavior. This was far more akin to the way he'd acted when he found her waiting for him in his rooms after a long day, days when she had traced her hands through his dark hair and rubbed oils into his sore muscles, and then slipped away when he finally slept.
Instinct pushed her toward him until he spoke once more and broke the spell, turning her back to the items she'd been meant to unpack. "You can order me out, if you like. You are king." An ornate vase was lifted from the container and she turned it over in her hands before crossing to the table it was meant to rest upon. He would tire of her frankness no doubt, send her off or remove her from her position, he didn't have reason to be soft to her anymore.
Briseis turned to face him at the next outburst, expression on not of pity but understanding, and resignation. "Yes." Achilleas was not handling the passing so well as he had been appearing to, it would seem, yet why on earth would he find himself here, speaking to her, instead of curling up in his new wife's ample bosom. With a courage she didn't quite feel, she stepped closer to the kline, resting a hand on the back of it as she looked down at him.
"It was a loss. Whatever your feelings for him. I hated my father for leaving. But when we heard he'd died, there was a grief."
Achilleas was rather oblivious to the defensive posture that the blonde girl had adopted, caught up in his own head as he made the decision to use the room as the sanctuary he had been seeking, even if she was in it. Or maybe because she was in it? He wasn’t really watching as she began to continue with her work, glanced up with a furrowed brow as Briseis spoke of him sending her away. He shook his head, waved a hand. “You have a job to do, do you not?”
He too could remember different times, when there wasn’t the physical awkwardness between them. When she had come to his chambers and the door was closed, she had been casual with him as one could only be with familiarity. And he had been less careful around her than he was with others. It had been a relief in more ways than one.
Now…..now he felt almost as if he were being careful all the time. He could not let up for one moment when surrounded by advisors, senators, stewards who all looked to him for leadership. Could not be anything other than collected and confident. And when they left, and he was not King, but instead was husband to Theodora, he was too concerned about what she was thinking to truly relax. She would think him weak if he let her know how uncertain he was in all this. Leventi women were drawn to power, and his had fallen into his lap just as she had become his wife. What a fool would she think him if he confessed to her that he did not know that he wanted it?
It was not so with Briseis. She had shared his bed enough that of course he had let down his guard a little, and he did not set such stakes upon her approval. She had always offered her affections so sweetly and freely anyway, without him having to try. Perhaps it was that which loosened his tongue and the tight hold he’d had on himself, and the new King turned his head to look at her as she stepped closer, looking less like a monarch, and more like a man who was lost in trying to navigate a complex grief.
He had forgotten that she had lost her father, one of those little things he had learned about his girl from Maliana when she had chattered away in an attempt to prolong the time before he would bid her go from his room, in case the house stirred and someone saw her. Now he nodded slowly, because of course, he would grieve his Father. He had known grief before, more recently than he would have liked, but that had been simpler. Cleaner somehow. When his Uncle had been found, his body so grossly treated by his killers, it had been easy to feel the loss, the anger at his murder. And for his cousin, who had not even been given the chance to cross the Styx. Achilleas had mourned his friend.
“I didn’t think to feel like this” he answered, gaze dropping back to the circlet in his hand. “There has barely been a moment since the burial, and he never… We never had an easy relationship. I was not the son he wanted”
There it was. Stark truth that cut like a knife still. He swallowed because the knot in his throat did not lessen with such a confession but seemed only to twist tighter until he could not speak. How was he supposed to feel? He felt cheated, because there had been so much left to prove to the man who had been his harshest critic, and now he would never have the opportunity. His father had left him, left him with the mess of a Kingdom and a crown he had never wanted, and with a head full of doubts about his own ability and worth. And Achilleas could do nothing but wear it and pretend everything was fine. It was not, he realised, fine. This time, the words came ragged. “I was a disappointment up to his last breath”
The knowledge made him unaccountably angry, that his father’s last words to him had been a reminder not to let him down, because that had always been his expectation. Even with him gone over the river, that voice was not easy to silence and Achilleas hated him for it.
Which was why it made no sense that his face was wet, and embarrassed, he turned his head, wiped angrily at treacherous signs of his own weakness.
“ Forgive me. I don’t mean to…” he broke off and sniffed back any further such foolishness, jaw flexing as he looked to find some words that would pardon such a scene, but he found none and couldn’t make himself look at the girl who had not invited this, and whom he had taken too much from already.
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Achilleas was rather oblivious to the defensive posture that the blonde girl had adopted, caught up in his own head as he made the decision to use the room as the sanctuary he had been seeking, even if she was in it. Or maybe because she was in it? He wasn’t really watching as she began to continue with her work, glanced up with a furrowed brow as Briseis spoke of him sending her away. He shook his head, waved a hand. “You have a job to do, do you not?”
He too could remember different times, when there wasn’t the physical awkwardness between them. When she had come to his chambers and the door was closed, she had been casual with him as one could only be with familiarity. And he had been less careful around her than he was with others. It had been a relief in more ways than one.
Now…..now he felt almost as if he were being careful all the time. He could not let up for one moment when surrounded by advisors, senators, stewards who all looked to him for leadership. Could not be anything other than collected and confident. And when they left, and he was not King, but instead was husband to Theodora, he was too concerned about what she was thinking to truly relax. She would think him weak if he let her know how uncertain he was in all this. Leventi women were drawn to power, and his had fallen into his lap just as she had become his wife. What a fool would she think him if he confessed to her that he did not know that he wanted it?
It was not so with Briseis. She had shared his bed enough that of course he had let down his guard a little, and he did not set such stakes upon her approval. She had always offered her affections so sweetly and freely anyway, without him having to try. Perhaps it was that which loosened his tongue and the tight hold he’d had on himself, and the new King turned his head to look at her as she stepped closer, looking less like a monarch, and more like a man who was lost in trying to navigate a complex grief.
He had forgotten that she had lost her father, one of those little things he had learned about his girl from Maliana when she had chattered away in an attempt to prolong the time before he would bid her go from his room, in case the house stirred and someone saw her. Now he nodded slowly, because of course, he would grieve his Father. He had known grief before, more recently than he would have liked, but that had been simpler. Cleaner somehow. When his Uncle had been found, his body so grossly treated by his killers, it had been easy to feel the loss, the anger at his murder. And for his cousin, who had not even been given the chance to cross the Styx. Achilleas had mourned his friend.
“I didn’t think to feel like this” he answered, gaze dropping back to the circlet in his hand. “There has barely been a moment since the burial, and he never… We never had an easy relationship. I was not the son he wanted”
There it was. Stark truth that cut like a knife still. He swallowed because the knot in his throat did not lessen with such a confession but seemed only to twist tighter until he could not speak. How was he supposed to feel? He felt cheated, because there had been so much left to prove to the man who had been his harshest critic, and now he would never have the opportunity. His father had left him, left him with the mess of a Kingdom and a crown he had never wanted, and with a head full of doubts about his own ability and worth. And Achilleas could do nothing but wear it and pretend everything was fine. It was not, he realised, fine. This time, the words came ragged. “I was a disappointment up to his last breath”
The knowledge made him unaccountably angry, that his father’s last words to him had been a reminder not to let him down, because that had always been his expectation. Even with him gone over the river, that voice was not easy to silence and Achilleas hated him for it.
Which was why it made no sense that his face was wet, and embarrassed, he turned his head, wiped angrily at treacherous signs of his own weakness.
“ Forgive me. I don’t mean to…” he broke off and sniffed back any further such foolishness, jaw flexing as he looked to find some words that would pardon such a scene, but he found none and couldn’t make himself look at the girl who had not invited this, and whom he had taken too much from already.
Achilleas was rather oblivious to the defensive posture that the blonde girl had adopted, caught up in his own head as he made the decision to use the room as the sanctuary he had been seeking, even if she was in it. Or maybe because she was in it? He wasn’t really watching as she began to continue with her work, glanced up with a furrowed brow as Briseis spoke of him sending her away. He shook his head, waved a hand. “You have a job to do, do you not?”
He too could remember different times, when there wasn’t the physical awkwardness between them. When she had come to his chambers and the door was closed, she had been casual with him as one could only be with familiarity. And he had been less careful around her than he was with others. It had been a relief in more ways than one.
Now…..now he felt almost as if he were being careful all the time. He could not let up for one moment when surrounded by advisors, senators, stewards who all looked to him for leadership. Could not be anything other than collected and confident. And when they left, and he was not King, but instead was husband to Theodora, he was too concerned about what she was thinking to truly relax. She would think him weak if he let her know how uncertain he was in all this. Leventi women were drawn to power, and his had fallen into his lap just as she had become his wife. What a fool would she think him if he confessed to her that he did not know that he wanted it?
It was not so with Briseis. She had shared his bed enough that of course he had let down his guard a little, and he did not set such stakes upon her approval. She had always offered her affections so sweetly and freely anyway, without him having to try. Perhaps it was that which loosened his tongue and the tight hold he’d had on himself, and the new King turned his head to look at her as she stepped closer, looking less like a monarch, and more like a man who was lost in trying to navigate a complex grief.
He had forgotten that she had lost her father, one of those little things he had learned about his girl from Maliana when she had chattered away in an attempt to prolong the time before he would bid her go from his room, in case the house stirred and someone saw her. Now he nodded slowly, because of course, he would grieve his Father. He had known grief before, more recently than he would have liked, but that had been simpler. Cleaner somehow. When his Uncle had been found, his body so grossly treated by his killers, it had been easy to feel the loss, the anger at his murder. And for his cousin, who had not even been given the chance to cross the Styx. Achilleas had mourned his friend.
“I didn’t think to feel like this” he answered, gaze dropping back to the circlet in his hand. “There has barely been a moment since the burial, and he never… We never had an easy relationship. I was not the son he wanted”
There it was. Stark truth that cut like a knife still. He swallowed because the knot in his throat did not lessen with such a confession but seemed only to twist tighter until he could not speak. How was he supposed to feel? He felt cheated, because there had been so much left to prove to the man who had been his harshest critic, and now he would never have the opportunity. His father had left him, left him with the mess of a Kingdom and a crown he had never wanted, and with a head full of doubts about his own ability and worth. And Achilleas could do nothing but wear it and pretend everything was fine. It was not, he realised, fine. This time, the words came ragged. “I was a disappointment up to his last breath”
The knowledge made him unaccountably angry, that his father’s last words to him had been a reminder not to let him down, because that had always been his expectation. Even with him gone over the river, that voice was not easy to silence and Achilleas hated him for it.
Which was why it made no sense that his face was wet, and embarrassed, he turned his head, wiped angrily at treacherous signs of his own weakness.
“ Forgive me. I don’t mean to…” he broke off and sniffed back any further such foolishness, jaw flexing as he looked to find some words that would pardon such a scene, but he found none and couldn’t make himself look at the girl who had not invited this, and whom he had taken too much from already.
Her lips pressed into a line as he shot back that she had a job to do, a job that he clearly had no issue interrupting. Letting that sit where it was without a retort, she gave a soft exhale as he continued speaking. Nothing would get done while he was about, and she couldn't just leave him like this. When she approached him she had intended simply to give a matter of fact reminder that he was not the only one to have lost a father, that plenty of people did so every day, and he was not the only one to deal with grief and his own was lifted by his wealth and title. And then he looked at her.
Achilleas had never been so emotional around her before, not like this. It wasn't like the warm moments they'd shared, or even the anger of when he had ended their relationship. He was vulnerable, and in pain, and as upset as she was with him this was not the kind of pain she had ever wished for him. Her frown deepened as he declared he had been a disappointment to the last, and Briseis shook her head as she knelt before him. A familiar position for them for drastically different reasons, she reached up without hesitation to wipe the dampness from his cheeks. He could scold her for being too familiar with the king later.
"You could never be a disappointment. If you were not the son he wanted, then his desires were wrong. Not you."
In all her life she had never known someone like Achilleas. He was kind, firm, but fair, and had the talent of the heroes of old when it came to the pursuits of war. Or at least so she had heard. And no man in all of Taengea was half his equal in looks. For a king, there was no one more noble and honest, and he had somehow managed to keep her love even after breaking her heart. Perhaps she simply didn't understand what a prince would want in a son, but she couldn't imagine anyone being better suited to the position.
His apology prompted her to shake her head and she gave a sort of sad press of her lips that was nearly a smile, but that was not permitted anymore. She'd already crossed over the line he had set clearly in their last proper interaction. The words that came out were no doubt misguided, would probably be mocked or she would be scolded for, but it was nonetheless true as much as she wished they weren't.
"You still mean..everything..to me. Don't apologize for this."
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Her lips pressed into a line as he shot back that she had a job to do, a job that he clearly had no issue interrupting. Letting that sit where it was without a retort, she gave a soft exhale as he continued speaking. Nothing would get done while he was about, and she couldn't just leave him like this. When she approached him she had intended simply to give a matter of fact reminder that he was not the only one to have lost a father, that plenty of people did so every day, and he was not the only one to deal with grief and his own was lifted by his wealth and title. And then he looked at her.
Achilleas had never been so emotional around her before, not like this. It wasn't like the warm moments they'd shared, or even the anger of when he had ended their relationship. He was vulnerable, and in pain, and as upset as she was with him this was not the kind of pain she had ever wished for him. Her frown deepened as he declared he had been a disappointment to the last, and Briseis shook her head as she knelt before him. A familiar position for them for drastically different reasons, she reached up without hesitation to wipe the dampness from his cheeks. He could scold her for being too familiar with the king later.
"You could never be a disappointment. If you were not the son he wanted, then his desires were wrong. Not you."
In all her life she had never known someone like Achilleas. He was kind, firm, but fair, and had the talent of the heroes of old when it came to the pursuits of war. Or at least so she had heard. And no man in all of Taengea was half his equal in looks. For a king, there was no one more noble and honest, and he had somehow managed to keep her love even after breaking her heart. Perhaps she simply didn't understand what a prince would want in a son, but she couldn't imagine anyone being better suited to the position.
His apology prompted her to shake her head and she gave a sort of sad press of her lips that was nearly a smile, but that was not permitted anymore. She'd already crossed over the line he had set clearly in their last proper interaction. The words that came out were no doubt misguided, would probably be mocked or she would be scolded for, but it was nonetheless true as much as she wished they weren't.
"You still mean..everything..to me. Don't apologize for this."
Her lips pressed into a line as he shot back that she had a job to do, a job that he clearly had no issue interrupting. Letting that sit where it was without a retort, she gave a soft exhale as he continued speaking. Nothing would get done while he was about, and she couldn't just leave him like this. When she approached him she had intended simply to give a matter of fact reminder that he was not the only one to have lost a father, that plenty of people did so every day, and he was not the only one to deal with grief and his own was lifted by his wealth and title. And then he looked at her.
Achilleas had never been so emotional around her before, not like this. It wasn't like the warm moments they'd shared, or even the anger of when he had ended their relationship. He was vulnerable, and in pain, and as upset as she was with him this was not the kind of pain she had ever wished for him. Her frown deepened as he declared he had been a disappointment to the last, and Briseis shook her head as she knelt before him. A familiar position for them for drastically different reasons, she reached up without hesitation to wipe the dampness from his cheeks. He could scold her for being too familiar with the king later.
"You could never be a disappointment. If you were not the son he wanted, then his desires were wrong. Not you."
In all her life she had never known someone like Achilleas. He was kind, firm, but fair, and had the talent of the heroes of old when it came to the pursuits of war. Or at least so she had heard. And no man in all of Taengea was half his equal in looks. For a king, there was no one more noble and honest, and he had somehow managed to keep her love even after breaking her heart. Perhaps she simply didn't understand what a prince would want in a son, but she couldn't imagine anyone being better suited to the position.
His apology prompted her to shake her head and she gave a sort of sad press of her lips that was nearly a smile, but that was not permitted anymore. She'd already crossed over the line he had set clearly in their last proper interaction. The words that came out were no doubt misguided, would probably be mocked or she would be scolded for, but it was nonetheless true as much as she wished they weren't.
"You still mean..everything..to me. Don't apologize for this."
He should have pulled away from the questing fingers that sought to wipe the unwanted tears from his face. Should have reestablished boundaries and rebuilt walls. He was married now. He was a King and even more beyond the reach of a humble maid than he had been before. But when his gaze caught upon hers, it was easier just to hold fast there a moment, a port in a storm, and so Achilleas did not move out of her reach, let the gentle pressure of her touch smooth over his skin and for a moment his eyes closed and he almost leant into her hand, a cat pressing for affection.
He was a fool, to draw comfort from the words of a serving girl when his wife had said almost the same thing to him days before and it had slid off like oil over water. It had been too soon then, he had been operating without thought or feeling. Now though..as he finally stumbled in his pursuit to ignore the grief and anger that inevitably followed such a loss, Briseis managed to reach him. Words that settled over an age old hurt, laid open by his father’s death and leaving him raw and ragged.
Achilleas teetered on the edge of being stupid then.More stupid than he was already being, but she had caught him at a bad moment, and feeling something other than the wretched and impotent anger at the man who had left him was too tempting a proposition.
It would be so easy to lean over, to fall back into old habits and someone that knew how to ease him.He would only need to tip forward a little, muffle the ill-thought out words threatening to trip off his tongue in a kiss. She wouldn’t deny him, surely, not now? Because he didn’t want to feel like this - unbalanced, out of control. He just needed to.. needed.
The apology was what? Buying himself space, a warning that he was not himself? But it was Briseis’ words that shocked Achilleas back to himself, had him take a lurching step back from the cliff face he could have been hurtling over.
‘...you still mean... everything..to me’
And she was so earnest with it, tipping those sky blue eyes towards him, laden with concern and affection despite how he had cast her aside. Achilleas smiled a weak smile at her.
“No?” He questioned, voice still thick. “I think especially for this.” Because after all, he had been the one to cast her aside so readily before. There was a twist in his gut, shame, that he was still so ready to use her again to stifle his own pain. Achilleas sat back abruptly, shading his face with one large, sword- calloused hand. “ I did wrong by you before, Briseis. I won’t do it again”
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He should have pulled away from the questing fingers that sought to wipe the unwanted tears from his face. Should have reestablished boundaries and rebuilt walls. He was married now. He was a King and even more beyond the reach of a humble maid than he had been before. But when his gaze caught upon hers, it was easier just to hold fast there a moment, a port in a storm, and so Achilleas did not move out of her reach, let the gentle pressure of her touch smooth over his skin and for a moment his eyes closed and he almost leant into her hand, a cat pressing for affection.
He was a fool, to draw comfort from the words of a serving girl when his wife had said almost the same thing to him days before and it had slid off like oil over water. It had been too soon then, he had been operating without thought or feeling. Now though..as he finally stumbled in his pursuit to ignore the grief and anger that inevitably followed such a loss, Briseis managed to reach him. Words that settled over an age old hurt, laid open by his father’s death and leaving him raw and ragged.
Achilleas teetered on the edge of being stupid then.More stupid than he was already being, but she had caught him at a bad moment, and feeling something other than the wretched and impotent anger at the man who had left him was too tempting a proposition.
It would be so easy to lean over, to fall back into old habits and someone that knew how to ease him.He would only need to tip forward a little, muffle the ill-thought out words threatening to trip off his tongue in a kiss. She wouldn’t deny him, surely, not now? Because he didn’t want to feel like this - unbalanced, out of control. He just needed to.. needed.
The apology was what? Buying himself space, a warning that he was not himself? But it was Briseis’ words that shocked Achilleas back to himself, had him take a lurching step back from the cliff face he could have been hurtling over.
‘...you still mean... everything..to me’
And she was so earnest with it, tipping those sky blue eyes towards him, laden with concern and affection despite how he had cast her aside. Achilleas smiled a weak smile at her.
“No?” He questioned, voice still thick. “I think especially for this.” Because after all, he had been the one to cast her aside so readily before. There was a twist in his gut, shame, that he was still so ready to use her again to stifle his own pain. Achilleas sat back abruptly, shading his face with one large, sword- calloused hand. “ I did wrong by you before, Briseis. I won’t do it again”
He should have pulled away from the questing fingers that sought to wipe the unwanted tears from his face. Should have reestablished boundaries and rebuilt walls. He was married now. He was a King and even more beyond the reach of a humble maid than he had been before. But when his gaze caught upon hers, it was easier just to hold fast there a moment, a port in a storm, and so Achilleas did not move out of her reach, let the gentle pressure of her touch smooth over his skin and for a moment his eyes closed and he almost leant into her hand, a cat pressing for affection.
He was a fool, to draw comfort from the words of a serving girl when his wife had said almost the same thing to him days before and it had slid off like oil over water. It had been too soon then, he had been operating without thought or feeling. Now though..as he finally stumbled in his pursuit to ignore the grief and anger that inevitably followed such a loss, Briseis managed to reach him. Words that settled over an age old hurt, laid open by his father’s death and leaving him raw and ragged.
Achilleas teetered on the edge of being stupid then.More stupid than he was already being, but she had caught him at a bad moment, and feeling something other than the wretched and impotent anger at the man who had left him was too tempting a proposition.
It would be so easy to lean over, to fall back into old habits and someone that knew how to ease him.He would only need to tip forward a little, muffle the ill-thought out words threatening to trip off his tongue in a kiss. She wouldn’t deny him, surely, not now? Because he didn’t want to feel like this - unbalanced, out of control. He just needed to.. needed.
The apology was what? Buying himself space, a warning that he was not himself? But it was Briseis’ words that shocked Achilleas back to himself, had him take a lurching step back from the cliff face he could have been hurtling over.
‘...you still mean... everything..to me’
And she was so earnest with it, tipping those sky blue eyes towards him, laden with concern and affection despite how he had cast her aside. Achilleas smiled a weak smile at her.
“No?” He questioned, voice still thick. “I think especially for this.” Because after all, he had been the one to cast her aside so readily before. There was a twist in his gut, shame, that he was still so ready to use her again to stifle his own pain. Achilleas sat back abruptly, shading his face with one large, sword- calloused hand. “ I did wrong by you before, Briseis. I won’t do it again”
There was a look in his gaze as he met her eyes, something that was so familiar it made her heart ache for the times before. Biting on her lower lip to stop herself from closing the space between them and kissing him, Briseis let him go as he pulled back and shaded his face with his hand, sitting back on her heels as one hand fell subconsciously to cover her heart. As if one touch could prevent her from feeling still for him as she did. If the gods had been kinder, perhaps she would have been born a proper noble lady for him, or better yet, they would have kept them the same but prevented their meeting.
"It wasn't your fault I fell in love."
Perhaps she shouldn't have said such a thing, but here with tears drying on his cheeks and no one else to see them, she had the chance to speak candidly as she hadn't since the night he'd told her they were at an end. It was selfish, but she needed to take this moment for herself so he could hear her truth as much as she needed to say it aloud. Looking back up at him, the posture he'd taken still looked so vulnerable and broken, she couldn't help her next actions.
Moving from the ground to sit beside him, Briseis wrapped her arms around his torso, laying her head against his shoulder and closing her eyes. There was a quiet comfort to this, and though she fully expected to be reminded once again that she could never be with him, at least she could take one last embrace instead of parting in anger.
"Whether or not you did wrong, my feelings for you will never change. I had hoped to hate you, but I can't. And so..I will always be here. If you want me."
Against her better judgment, she closed the space between them to press a kiss to his cheek, lingering a moment before laying her head back against his shoulder.
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There was a look in his gaze as he met her eyes, something that was so familiar it made her heart ache for the times before. Biting on her lower lip to stop herself from closing the space between them and kissing him, Briseis let him go as he pulled back and shaded his face with his hand, sitting back on her heels as one hand fell subconsciously to cover her heart. As if one touch could prevent her from feeling still for him as she did. If the gods had been kinder, perhaps she would have been born a proper noble lady for him, or better yet, they would have kept them the same but prevented their meeting.
"It wasn't your fault I fell in love."
Perhaps she shouldn't have said such a thing, but here with tears drying on his cheeks and no one else to see them, she had the chance to speak candidly as she hadn't since the night he'd told her they were at an end. It was selfish, but she needed to take this moment for herself so he could hear her truth as much as she needed to say it aloud. Looking back up at him, the posture he'd taken still looked so vulnerable and broken, she couldn't help her next actions.
Moving from the ground to sit beside him, Briseis wrapped her arms around his torso, laying her head against his shoulder and closing her eyes. There was a quiet comfort to this, and though she fully expected to be reminded once again that she could never be with him, at least she could take one last embrace instead of parting in anger.
"Whether or not you did wrong, my feelings for you will never change. I had hoped to hate you, but I can't. And so..I will always be here. If you want me."
Against her better judgment, she closed the space between them to press a kiss to his cheek, lingering a moment before laying her head back against his shoulder.
There was a look in his gaze as he met her eyes, something that was so familiar it made her heart ache for the times before. Biting on her lower lip to stop herself from closing the space between them and kissing him, Briseis let him go as he pulled back and shaded his face with his hand, sitting back on her heels as one hand fell subconsciously to cover her heart. As if one touch could prevent her from feeling still for him as she did. If the gods had been kinder, perhaps she would have been born a proper noble lady for him, or better yet, they would have kept them the same but prevented their meeting.
"It wasn't your fault I fell in love."
Perhaps she shouldn't have said such a thing, but here with tears drying on his cheeks and no one else to see them, she had the chance to speak candidly as she hadn't since the night he'd told her they were at an end. It was selfish, but she needed to take this moment for herself so he could hear her truth as much as she needed to say it aloud. Looking back up at him, the posture he'd taken still looked so vulnerable and broken, she couldn't help her next actions.
Moving from the ground to sit beside him, Briseis wrapped her arms around his torso, laying her head against his shoulder and closing her eyes. There was a quiet comfort to this, and though she fully expected to be reminded once again that she could never be with him, at least she could take one last embrace instead of parting in anger.
"Whether or not you did wrong, my feelings for you will never change. I had hoped to hate you, but I can't. And so..I will always be here. If you want me."
Against her better judgment, she closed the space between them to press a kiss to his cheek, lingering a moment before laying her head back against his shoulder.
‘It wasn’t your fault I fell in love’
Achilleas let his hand fall away from his face, jerked his head up to look at Briseis when she spoke. He was surprised at her candour, but how he could deny her when he had just cried like a child in front of her. Whatever flimsy formality he might have insisted upon at another time had no place here,in this strange, raw honesty they’d tumbled into, and so he swallowed any retort, her words both a salve and an irritant.
On one hand, she absolved him from the guilt he’d felt since she had first spoken of love, those months ago back at the archontiko. Had blindsided him by clinging tenaciously to what he’d thought to dismiss, and part of him welcomed such a pardon. Because he had worried at it, the idea that he had led her on, given her hope for something that was never going to happen. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d been accused of such carelessness with other’s feelings and it did not sit well with the Mikaelidas Lord.
And then there was the fact that hearing it spoken again somehow gave it more permanence. Why did she have to say it again? Why now, when there was not even the buffer of anger to dilute it and it just landed where it fell, when he was craving some comfort?
Achilleas was very still when Briseis’ weight settled beside him, and he seemed to hold his breath when her arms snaked around him, opened his mouth as if about to scold her for presuming. That is what he should have done. But it felt good to be held, and after a moment, as the girl laid her head against his shoulder, Achilleas’ arms settled tentatively around her and he took a breath.It was just an embrace. Just...a friend being a friend in a moment of need. It didn’t have to be anything else.
Only Briseis could never have been termed a friend. A fact that she solidified in the next when she lifted her head and once again swept away his wrongdoings. Offered herself.
If you want me
Achilleas stared at her. Too close and too warm and like a living, breathing bandage to where he was breaking, he should have pushed her away. But he didn’t and when her kiss brushed against his cheek, his eyes closed a moment and then it was just the smallest shift of his head to find her lips with his own. And they were familiar and sweet, and here was something that he could have control over. For a second he revelled in the connection, his arms tightening around the pliant and petite body pressed against his. Briseis was tiny, and it jolted him, because he had grown used to the feeling of another in his arms, of Theodora and he realised how wrong he was. Foolish.
The man had come to his feet before he realised, twisting himself around Briseis, extricating himself before he could be any more stupid. What had he been thinking?!
“Forgive me” That he was dumbly echoing his words of before registered after the fact, Achilleas reaching down to snatch up the crown from where it sat upon the kline. When had he taken that off? Somewhere, there would be some words to smooth this all away, to correct things, but perhaps he had not found them yet.
“Briseis, I..fuck!”
The curse was so uncharacteristic,so unusual that it was leant more weight than the half-whispered delivery suggested it should have, and the new King was quick to cross the room, to place the distance between them that he should have done before. “That was...unseemly. Misguided. I’m not..”. He paused and fought valiantly for some sort of coherence and authority. “I am out of sorts. Thankyou for your...kindness, but you should continue with your task.”
The simple circlet was set back upon his brow, Achilleas scrubbing a hand over his face and shooting Briseis a brief, indirect glance. He measured the distance between where he stood and the door,because he realised he had misjudged what safety was, and that it did not lie here. No, in fact, the serving girl presented a rather clear and present danger.
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‘It wasn’t your fault I fell in love’
Achilleas let his hand fall away from his face, jerked his head up to look at Briseis when she spoke. He was surprised at her candour, but how he could deny her when he had just cried like a child in front of her. Whatever flimsy formality he might have insisted upon at another time had no place here,in this strange, raw honesty they’d tumbled into, and so he swallowed any retort, her words both a salve and an irritant.
On one hand, she absolved him from the guilt he’d felt since she had first spoken of love, those months ago back at the archontiko. Had blindsided him by clinging tenaciously to what he’d thought to dismiss, and part of him welcomed such a pardon. Because he had worried at it, the idea that he had led her on, given her hope for something that was never going to happen. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d been accused of such carelessness with other’s feelings and it did not sit well with the Mikaelidas Lord.
And then there was the fact that hearing it spoken again somehow gave it more permanence. Why did she have to say it again? Why now, when there was not even the buffer of anger to dilute it and it just landed where it fell, when he was craving some comfort?
Achilleas was very still when Briseis’ weight settled beside him, and he seemed to hold his breath when her arms snaked around him, opened his mouth as if about to scold her for presuming. That is what he should have done. But it felt good to be held, and after a moment, as the girl laid her head against his shoulder, Achilleas’ arms settled tentatively around her and he took a breath.It was just an embrace. Just...a friend being a friend in a moment of need. It didn’t have to be anything else.
Only Briseis could never have been termed a friend. A fact that she solidified in the next when she lifted her head and once again swept away his wrongdoings. Offered herself.
If you want me
Achilleas stared at her. Too close and too warm and like a living, breathing bandage to where he was breaking, he should have pushed her away. But he didn’t and when her kiss brushed against his cheek, his eyes closed a moment and then it was just the smallest shift of his head to find her lips with his own. And they were familiar and sweet, and here was something that he could have control over. For a second he revelled in the connection, his arms tightening around the pliant and petite body pressed against his. Briseis was tiny, and it jolted him, because he had grown used to the feeling of another in his arms, of Theodora and he realised how wrong he was. Foolish.
The man had come to his feet before he realised, twisting himself around Briseis, extricating himself before he could be any more stupid. What had he been thinking?!
“Forgive me” That he was dumbly echoing his words of before registered after the fact, Achilleas reaching down to snatch up the crown from where it sat upon the kline. When had he taken that off? Somewhere, there would be some words to smooth this all away, to correct things, but perhaps he had not found them yet.
“Briseis, I..fuck!”
The curse was so uncharacteristic,so unusual that it was leant more weight than the half-whispered delivery suggested it should have, and the new King was quick to cross the room, to place the distance between them that he should have done before. “That was...unseemly. Misguided. I’m not..”. He paused and fought valiantly for some sort of coherence and authority. “I am out of sorts. Thankyou for your...kindness, but you should continue with your task.”
The simple circlet was set back upon his brow, Achilleas scrubbing a hand over his face and shooting Briseis a brief, indirect glance. He measured the distance between where he stood and the door,because he realised he had misjudged what safety was, and that it did not lie here. No, in fact, the serving girl presented a rather clear and present danger.
‘It wasn’t your fault I fell in love’
Achilleas let his hand fall away from his face, jerked his head up to look at Briseis when she spoke. He was surprised at her candour, but how he could deny her when he had just cried like a child in front of her. Whatever flimsy formality he might have insisted upon at another time had no place here,in this strange, raw honesty they’d tumbled into, and so he swallowed any retort, her words both a salve and an irritant.
On one hand, she absolved him from the guilt he’d felt since she had first spoken of love, those months ago back at the archontiko. Had blindsided him by clinging tenaciously to what he’d thought to dismiss, and part of him welcomed such a pardon. Because he had worried at it, the idea that he had led her on, given her hope for something that was never going to happen. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d been accused of such carelessness with other’s feelings and it did not sit well with the Mikaelidas Lord.
And then there was the fact that hearing it spoken again somehow gave it more permanence. Why did she have to say it again? Why now, when there was not even the buffer of anger to dilute it and it just landed where it fell, when he was craving some comfort?
Achilleas was very still when Briseis’ weight settled beside him, and he seemed to hold his breath when her arms snaked around him, opened his mouth as if about to scold her for presuming. That is what he should have done. But it felt good to be held, and after a moment, as the girl laid her head against his shoulder, Achilleas’ arms settled tentatively around her and he took a breath.It was just an embrace. Just...a friend being a friend in a moment of need. It didn’t have to be anything else.
Only Briseis could never have been termed a friend. A fact that she solidified in the next when she lifted her head and once again swept away his wrongdoings. Offered herself.
If you want me
Achilleas stared at her. Too close and too warm and like a living, breathing bandage to where he was breaking, he should have pushed her away. But he didn’t and when her kiss brushed against his cheek, his eyes closed a moment and then it was just the smallest shift of his head to find her lips with his own. And they were familiar and sweet, and here was something that he could have control over. For a second he revelled in the connection, his arms tightening around the pliant and petite body pressed against his. Briseis was tiny, and it jolted him, because he had grown used to the feeling of another in his arms, of Theodora and he realised how wrong he was. Foolish.
The man had come to his feet before he realised, twisting himself around Briseis, extricating himself before he could be any more stupid. What had he been thinking?!
“Forgive me” That he was dumbly echoing his words of before registered after the fact, Achilleas reaching down to snatch up the crown from where it sat upon the kline. When had he taken that off? Somewhere, there would be some words to smooth this all away, to correct things, but perhaps he had not found them yet.
“Briseis, I..fuck!”
The curse was so uncharacteristic,so unusual that it was leant more weight than the half-whispered delivery suggested it should have, and the new King was quick to cross the room, to place the distance between them that he should have done before. “That was...unseemly. Misguided. I’m not..”. He paused and fought valiantly for some sort of coherence and authority. “I am out of sorts. Thankyou for your...kindness, but you should continue with your task.”
The simple circlet was set back upon his brow, Achilleas scrubbing a hand over his face and shooting Briseis a brief, indirect glance. He measured the distance between where he stood and the door,because he realised he had misjudged what safety was, and that it did not lie here. No, in fact, the serving girl presented a rather clear and present danger.
The moment his arms settled around her she felt all of those emotions flood back in, the love and affection she had for him had never vanished as much as she had tried to bury it and burn it from her heart. All of her prayers to Aphrodite for healing and Athena for wisdom it seemed had gone unheard, and when his eyes met hers she knew she ought to have pulled away. If she truly wished to recover and be able to move on with her life, the one he was never going to agree to be in, she needed to remove herself from this dangerous position.
And then his lips met hers and she knew she would never be able to let go of him. Not truly.
Her hand lifted to try to cradle his cheek as it would have in the past, heat shooting through her as she began to shift towards him. Instinct pushed her to attempt to hold him closer, remind him of everything that they'd had before his marriage. She had never been fond of his wife, even before their marriage the other woman had an air of the spoiled brat she was about her. Nothing real, nothing like what he deserved.
"No..."
As Achilleas broke away from her and stood, Briseis couldn't stop her plea from leaving lips that would be swollen with his kiss, hand pressing over her mouth as she braced herself up on an arm in the space where he had been. Tears pricked at her eyes again as he paced, and she closed them to attempt to keep her shame hidden this time. Even now after all they'd done, it was clear he thought her just a whore, thought to swear at her as if it was all her fault. She meant as little to him as the gold chains he'd sent her, as if the precious metal would make up for what he'd taken from her. Five years of faithful devotion and affection, and that was all he'd thought of her.
Pushing herself upright, as much as she wished to just crumple in on herself then and there, Briseis forced herself to her feet and dropped into a curtsy. Her eyes remained fixed on the ground, unable to look at him even as the tears dripped down the end of her nose in this position. He was king, far from her reach, and with nothing more to give her.
"Yes, your majesty."
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The moment his arms settled around her she felt all of those emotions flood back in, the love and affection she had for him had never vanished as much as she had tried to bury it and burn it from her heart. All of her prayers to Aphrodite for healing and Athena for wisdom it seemed had gone unheard, and when his eyes met hers she knew she ought to have pulled away. If she truly wished to recover and be able to move on with her life, the one he was never going to agree to be in, she needed to remove herself from this dangerous position.
And then his lips met hers and she knew she would never be able to let go of him. Not truly.
Her hand lifted to try to cradle his cheek as it would have in the past, heat shooting through her as she began to shift towards him. Instinct pushed her to attempt to hold him closer, remind him of everything that they'd had before his marriage. She had never been fond of his wife, even before their marriage the other woman had an air of the spoiled brat she was about her. Nothing real, nothing like what he deserved.
"No..."
As Achilleas broke away from her and stood, Briseis couldn't stop her plea from leaving lips that would be swollen with his kiss, hand pressing over her mouth as she braced herself up on an arm in the space where he had been. Tears pricked at her eyes again as he paced, and she closed them to attempt to keep her shame hidden this time. Even now after all they'd done, it was clear he thought her just a whore, thought to swear at her as if it was all her fault. She meant as little to him as the gold chains he'd sent her, as if the precious metal would make up for what he'd taken from her. Five years of faithful devotion and affection, and that was all he'd thought of her.
Pushing herself upright, as much as she wished to just crumple in on herself then and there, Briseis forced herself to her feet and dropped into a curtsy. Her eyes remained fixed on the ground, unable to look at him even as the tears dripped down the end of her nose in this position. He was king, far from her reach, and with nothing more to give her.
"Yes, your majesty."
The moment his arms settled around her she felt all of those emotions flood back in, the love and affection she had for him had never vanished as much as she had tried to bury it and burn it from her heart. All of her prayers to Aphrodite for healing and Athena for wisdom it seemed had gone unheard, and when his eyes met hers she knew she ought to have pulled away. If she truly wished to recover and be able to move on with her life, the one he was never going to agree to be in, she needed to remove herself from this dangerous position.
And then his lips met hers and she knew she would never be able to let go of him. Not truly.
Her hand lifted to try to cradle his cheek as it would have in the past, heat shooting through her as she began to shift towards him. Instinct pushed her to attempt to hold him closer, remind him of everything that they'd had before his marriage. She had never been fond of his wife, even before their marriage the other woman had an air of the spoiled brat she was about her. Nothing real, nothing like what he deserved.
"No..."
As Achilleas broke away from her and stood, Briseis couldn't stop her plea from leaving lips that would be swollen with his kiss, hand pressing over her mouth as she braced herself up on an arm in the space where he had been. Tears pricked at her eyes again as he paced, and she closed them to attempt to keep her shame hidden this time. Even now after all they'd done, it was clear he thought her just a whore, thought to swear at her as if it was all her fault. She meant as little to him as the gold chains he'd sent her, as if the precious metal would make up for what he'd taken from her. Five years of faithful devotion and affection, and that was all he'd thought of her.
Pushing herself upright, as much as she wished to just crumple in on herself then and there, Briseis forced herself to her feet and dropped into a curtsy. Her eyes remained fixed on the ground, unable to look at him even as the tears dripped down the end of her nose in this position. He was king, far from her reach, and with nothing more to give her.
"Yes, your majesty."
As much as he tried to walk a righteous path, Achilleas was not without his flaws. And here, as he stood across the room from Briseis, watching her cry again, those flaws, weaknesses, were being rather unforgivingly shoved back into his face. That little breathless ‘No’ as he’d come to his senses and pulled away, and now the rigid curtsy and formal ‘Yes, your majesty’ hurt him somewhere that this girl had no business being. She was a servant and he was married, and he was a fool for having let himself be drawn in. Or for reaching for her, he wasn’t even sure how it had happened. Wanting to feel something other than whatever had threatened to overwhelm him in front of his advisors and he’d waded into dangerous waters. Stupid.
It was just because he was off-kilter. He hadn’t been sleeping well. That was as much as he would allow himself to acknowledge it, and he made himself look away from where she cried, turned instead to gaze out of the window onto the palati gardens beyond and tried very hard to ignore the small hitches in her breathing that he could hear. Gritting his teeth, Achilleas pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger and wished his voice was a little steadier when he said. “Stop crying”.
Hypocritical given his own behavior of moments before, but perhaps his words were as much self counsel as they were for the girl behind him. This whole interlude was a blip, and he needed to button everything down, get a hold of himself before he left this room. Curse his luck for having walked it into it in the first instance. Because finding somewhere he could just break down without an audience was too much, and it had to be Briseis with her too open arms, too forgiving nature. The gods toyed with him, found some amusement in his distress and Achilleas felt irritated instead.
Outside of the doors would be those guards, and beyond them, the advisors he had abandoned before. A kingdom he was supposed to be ruling. And he was in here hiding and crying and fooling around with some servant girl who already he had wronged. His fist had flung out and crashed into the wall before he’d realised he had moved, and it was a sharp stabbing pain that shot up through his knuckles into his forearm that was his reward. That and the vivid surge of red where blood welled from split skin.
“...Fuck!” There was more heat behind the curse this time, and Achilleas shook out his hand, flexing and unflexing as he paced the confines of the room. This wasn’t him, he wasn’t supposed to feel like this and he was ill-equipped to do so. He wasn’t his brother, he was the dependable one. Rational. Calm.
Where was calm?
He couldn’t look at Briseis, wanted to take himself away from her but not ready yet to face those outside. He could send her out, but that would be a story in itself with her in tears. So instead she got to witness more than he would have chosen, and he could not escape the evidence of his selfishness once again.
It seemed inevitable then when the knock on the door came, and Achilleas glanced at the entryway with something akin to panic. Folding his bloodied hand behind his back he was trying to ensure his voice would be steady when he answered when a familiar voice requested entry.
Achilleas blew out a breath, and his “Enter” was short and sharp, his gaze equally pointed where it rested upon the doorway. Krysto would all at once see too much and know how to smooth this over.
This character is currently a work in progress.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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As much as he tried to walk a righteous path, Achilleas was not without his flaws. And here, as he stood across the room from Briseis, watching her cry again, those flaws, weaknesses, were being rather unforgivingly shoved back into his face. That little breathless ‘No’ as he’d come to his senses and pulled away, and now the rigid curtsy and formal ‘Yes, your majesty’ hurt him somewhere that this girl had no business being. She was a servant and he was married, and he was a fool for having let himself be drawn in. Or for reaching for her, he wasn’t even sure how it had happened. Wanting to feel something other than whatever had threatened to overwhelm him in front of his advisors and he’d waded into dangerous waters. Stupid.
It was just because he was off-kilter. He hadn’t been sleeping well. That was as much as he would allow himself to acknowledge it, and he made himself look away from where she cried, turned instead to gaze out of the window onto the palati gardens beyond and tried very hard to ignore the small hitches in her breathing that he could hear. Gritting his teeth, Achilleas pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger and wished his voice was a little steadier when he said. “Stop crying”.
Hypocritical given his own behavior of moments before, but perhaps his words were as much self counsel as they were for the girl behind him. This whole interlude was a blip, and he needed to button everything down, get a hold of himself before he left this room. Curse his luck for having walked it into it in the first instance. Because finding somewhere he could just break down without an audience was too much, and it had to be Briseis with her too open arms, too forgiving nature. The gods toyed with him, found some amusement in his distress and Achilleas felt irritated instead.
Outside of the doors would be those guards, and beyond them, the advisors he had abandoned before. A kingdom he was supposed to be ruling. And he was in here hiding and crying and fooling around with some servant girl who already he had wronged. His fist had flung out and crashed into the wall before he’d realised he had moved, and it was a sharp stabbing pain that shot up through his knuckles into his forearm that was his reward. That and the vivid surge of red where blood welled from split skin.
“...Fuck!” There was more heat behind the curse this time, and Achilleas shook out his hand, flexing and unflexing as he paced the confines of the room. This wasn’t him, he wasn’t supposed to feel like this and he was ill-equipped to do so. He wasn’t his brother, he was the dependable one. Rational. Calm.
Where was calm?
He couldn’t look at Briseis, wanted to take himself away from her but not ready yet to face those outside. He could send her out, but that would be a story in itself with her in tears. So instead she got to witness more than he would have chosen, and he could not escape the evidence of his selfishness once again.
It seemed inevitable then when the knock on the door came, and Achilleas glanced at the entryway with something akin to panic. Folding his bloodied hand behind his back he was trying to ensure his voice would be steady when he answered when a familiar voice requested entry.
Achilleas blew out a breath, and his “Enter” was short and sharp, his gaze equally pointed where it rested upon the doorway. Krysto would all at once see too much and know how to smooth this over.
As much as he tried to walk a righteous path, Achilleas was not without his flaws. And here, as he stood across the room from Briseis, watching her cry again, those flaws, weaknesses, were being rather unforgivingly shoved back into his face. That little breathless ‘No’ as he’d come to his senses and pulled away, and now the rigid curtsy and formal ‘Yes, your majesty’ hurt him somewhere that this girl had no business being. She was a servant and he was married, and he was a fool for having let himself be drawn in. Or for reaching for her, he wasn’t even sure how it had happened. Wanting to feel something other than whatever had threatened to overwhelm him in front of his advisors and he’d waded into dangerous waters. Stupid.
It was just because he was off-kilter. He hadn’t been sleeping well. That was as much as he would allow himself to acknowledge it, and he made himself look away from where she cried, turned instead to gaze out of the window onto the palati gardens beyond and tried very hard to ignore the small hitches in her breathing that he could hear. Gritting his teeth, Achilleas pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger and wished his voice was a little steadier when he said. “Stop crying”.
Hypocritical given his own behavior of moments before, but perhaps his words were as much self counsel as they were for the girl behind him. This whole interlude was a blip, and he needed to button everything down, get a hold of himself before he left this room. Curse his luck for having walked it into it in the first instance. Because finding somewhere he could just break down without an audience was too much, and it had to be Briseis with her too open arms, too forgiving nature. The gods toyed with him, found some amusement in his distress and Achilleas felt irritated instead.
Outside of the doors would be those guards, and beyond them, the advisors he had abandoned before. A kingdom he was supposed to be ruling. And he was in here hiding and crying and fooling around with some servant girl who already he had wronged. His fist had flung out and crashed into the wall before he’d realised he had moved, and it was a sharp stabbing pain that shot up through his knuckles into his forearm that was his reward. That and the vivid surge of red where blood welled from split skin.
“...Fuck!” There was more heat behind the curse this time, and Achilleas shook out his hand, flexing and unflexing as he paced the confines of the room. This wasn’t him, he wasn’t supposed to feel like this and he was ill-equipped to do so. He wasn’t his brother, he was the dependable one. Rational. Calm.
Where was calm?
He couldn’t look at Briseis, wanted to take himself away from her but not ready yet to face those outside. He could send her out, but that would be a story in itself with her in tears. So instead she got to witness more than he would have chosen, and he could not escape the evidence of his selfishness once again.
It seemed inevitable then when the knock on the door came, and Achilleas glanced at the entryway with something akin to panic. Folding his bloodied hand behind his back he was trying to ensure his voice would be steady when he answered when a familiar voice requested entry.
Achilleas blew out a breath, and his “Enter” was short and sharp, his gaze equally pointed where it rested upon the doorway. Krysto would all at once see too much and know how to smooth this over.
It was too much, the way he ordered her to stop crying made the command absolutely impossible, and she bit her lip hard to try to prevent any further sobs from escaping. He was making it all to clear once again he had never loved her, never wanted her aside from what pleasure he could take from her, and she was nothing to him now. The slam against the wall shocked a sound from her, a squeal of fear as she bolted back, mouth an 'o' of shock as she stared back at him with wide eyes. Could he hate her that much? Or did this moment have nothing to do with her.
Even now as she looked to him she wanted to go this side, tend to the wound and coo over his pain, try to take it away. But he did not want her, did not need her, and she had to get out of here. Without another word she strode past him, freezing at the knock until Krysto appeared. She shook her head as if that would put off any questions, brushing at her eyes before hurrying from the room.
Briseis kept her head down as she moved through the halls, only allowing herself to cry when she made it back to her room. The few things she had were packed quickly, and she'd nearly finished when the knock on her door came. A runner from Maliania summoning her to her mother as if the goddess herself had heard her heart break. With her excuses to the head of staff and a promise to return once her mother was well again, Briseis left the palati as soon as she was able.
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It was too much, the way he ordered her to stop crying made the command absolutely impossible, and she bit her lip hard to try to prevent any further sobs from escaping. He was making it all to clear once again he had never loved her, never wanted her aside from what pleasure he could take from her, and she was nothing to him now. The slam against the wall shocked a sound from her, a squeal of fear as she bolted back, mouth an 'o' of shock as she stared back at him with wide eyes. Could he hate her that much? Or did this moment have nothing to do with her.
Even now as she looked to him she wanted to go this side, tend to the wound and coo over his pain, try to take it away. But he did not want her, did not need her, and she had to get out of here. Without another word she strode past him, freezing at the knock until Krysto appeared. She shook her head as if that would put off any questions, brushing at her eyes before hurrying from the room.
Briseis kept her head down as she moved through the halls, only allowing herself to cry when she made it back to her room. The few things she had were packed quickly, and she'd nearly finished when the knock on her door came. A runner from Maliania summoning her to her mother as if the goddess herself had heard her heart break. With her excuses to the head of staff and a promise to return once her mother was well again, Briseis left the palati as soon as she was able.
It was too much, the way he ordered her to stop crying made the command absolutely impossible, and she bit her lip hard to try to prevent any further sobs from escaping. He was making it all to clear once again he had never loved her, never wanted her aside from what pleasure he could take from her, and she was nothing to him now. The slam against the wall shocked a sound from her, a squeal of fear as she bolted back, mouth an 'o' of shock as she stared back at him with wide eyes. Could he hate her that much? Or did this moment have nothing to do with her.
Even now as she looked to him she wanted to go this side, tend to the wound and coo over his pain, try to take it away. But he did not want her, did not need her, and she had to get out of here. Without another word she strode past him, freezing at the knock until Krysto appeared. She shook her head as if that would put off any questions, brushing at her eyes before hurrying from the room.
Briseis kept her head down as she moved through the halls, only allowing herself to cry when she made it back to her room. The few things she had were packed quickly, and she'd nearly finished when the knock on her door came. A runner from Maliania summoning her to her mother as if the goddess herself had heard her heart break. With her excuses to the head of staff and a promise to return once her mother was well again, Briseis left the palati as soon as she was able.