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Queen of Taengea, Elise of Mikaelidas has been of close ties to the throne of her kingdom since her birth. As such, it has been her prime purpose in the circles of the court to encourage the sociability of the House of Mikaelidas. Regardless of her marriage to the man who has now ruled as king for many years, Elise is a diplomat and courtier at her finest and enjoys hosting a serious event of entertainment, dance and feasting within the Mikaelidas Archontiko every two-to-three years. Some come one, come all, the nobility of Taengea and be suitably impressed with the power and might of the Mikaelidas Dynasteia.
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JD
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Queen of Taengea, Elise of Mikaelidas has been of close ties to the throne of her kingdom since her birth. As such, it has been her prime purpose in the circles of the court to encourage the sociability of the House of Mikaelidas. Regardless of her marriage to the man who has now ruled as king for many years, Elise is a diplomat and courtier at her finest and enjoys hosting a serious event of entertainment, dance and feasting within the Mikaelidas Archontiko every two-to-three years. Some come one, come all, the nobility of Taengea and be suitably impressed with the power and might of the Mikaelidas Dynasteia.
A Lion's Pride Provincial Story - Taengea
Queen of Taengea, Elise of Mikaelidas has been of close ties to the throne of her kingdom since her birth. As such, it has been her prime purpose in the circles of the court to encourage the sociability of the House of Mikaelidas. Regardless of her marriage to the man who has now ruled as king for many years, Elise is a diplomat and courtier at her finest and enjoys hosting a serious event of entertainment, dance and feasting within the Mikaelidas Archontiko every two-to-three years. Some come one, come all, the nobility of Taengea and be suitably impressed with the power and might of the Mikaelidas Dynasteia.
He was always irked when it came to attend formal functions such as these. To be called Prince so blatantly and flagrantly, when his rightful place upon the throne as the firstborn of his father's second wife was taken, simply through his elder half-brother's stroke of divine luck. But Irakles had never been one to sit down on his haunches and accept fate as the Gods delivered it. Always looking to challenge, the man firmly believed he would achieve his goals so long as he worked hard on it.
And he has been working hard on it.
So instead of the usual bitterness that surrounded Irakles whenever he was summoned to attend a formal court session, instead today, the retired General of the Taengean armies wore a smug smile as he strolled into the ballroom of his home. Technically, such functions should be held in the palati, and he has questioned his sister-in-law on why it had to be held at the Archontiko... but who ever understood Elise's logic. Besides, the Queen held Irakles in high regard, and the man had no wish to change that.
Therefore, Irakles had simply instructed Myrto and Meena to be of utmost help to the Queen in the day's leading up to the event, and would merely appear when it was time - as men did.
Trussed up in the finest royal colors, he had opted for the Mikaelidas colors of maroon and gold, the white as a basal undertone that allowed the two strong colors to meld why, forming a strong statement as he entered the hall. Already, the early comers mingled, and servants meandered the area serving chalices of the finest Condos and Leventi wines, as well as finger food for all. The music played in the background, and the dance floor had long since been opened. The whole hall itself was gilded in gold, a crest of the Mikaelidas lion atop the main dais where the Queen had no doubt stood to officiate the event.
Instinctively, the man's eyes roamed to find his brother - he should greet them first, afterall. This may be his home, but Irakles had long since learned to bite his tongue and provide his brother and sister-in-law the grace they by right should get. The nobles would whisper and tongues would wag if he did not, and while Irakles's plans would soon fall in place, he still needed to ensure he remained in the good books of the people in Taengea.
As such, he put on the best diplomatic smile he had, and strolled up with a friendly laugh to greet the King and Queen who preside over the event, all while keeping an eye out for his wife and sons. They should know propriety and manners, and Irakles expected their arrival soon, for any later would mean to be disrespectful and tardy.
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He was always irked when it came to attend formal functions such as these. To be called Prince so blatantly and flagrantly, when his rightful place upon the throne as the firstborn of his father's second wife was taken, simply through his elder half-brother's stroke of divine luck. But Irakles had never been one to sit down on his haunches and accept fate as the Gods delivered it. Always looking to challenge, the man firmly believed he would achieve his goals so long as he worked hard on it.
And he has been working hard on it.
So instead of the usual bitterness that surrounded Irakles whenever he was summoned to attend a formal court session, instead today, the retired General of the Taengean armies wore a smug smile as he strolled into the ballroom of his home. Technically, such functions should be held in the palati, and he has questioned his sister-in-law on why it had to be held at the Archontiko... but who ever understood Elise's logic. Besides, the Queen held Irakles in high regard, and the man had no wish to change that.
Therefore, Irakles had simply instructed Myrto and Meena to be of utmost help to the Queen in the day's leading up to the event, and would merely appear when it was time - as men did.
Trussed up in the finest royal colors, he had opted for the Mikaelidas colors of maroon and gold, the white as a basal undertone that allowed the two strong colors to meld why, forming a strong statement as he entered the hall. Already, the early comers mingled, and servants meandered the area serving chalices of the finest Condos and Leventi wines, as well as finger food for all. The music played in the background, and the dance floor had long since been opened. The whole hall itself was gilded in gold, a crest of the Mikaelidas lion atop the main dais where the Queen had no doubt stood to officiate the event.
Instinctively, the man's eyes roamed to find his brother - he should greet them first, afterall. This may be his home, but Irakles had long since learned to bite his tongue and provide his brother and sister-in-law the grace they by right should get. The nobles would whisper and tongues would wag if he did not, and while Irakles's plans would soon fall in place, he still needed to ensure he remained in the good books of the people in Taengea.
As such, he put on the best diplomatic smile he had, and strolled up with a friendly laugh to greet the King and Queen who preside over the event, all while keeping an eye out for his wife and sons. They should know propriety and manners, and Irakles expected their arrival soon, for any later would mean to be disrespectful and tardy.
He was always irked when it came to attend formal functions such as these. To be called Prince so blatantly and flagrantly, when his rightful place upon the throne as the firstborn of his father's second wife was taken, simply through his elder half-brother's stroke of divine luck. But Irakles had never been one to sit down on his haunches and accept fate as the Gods delivered it. Always looking to challenge, the man firmly believed he would achieve his goals so long as he worked hard on it.
And he has been working hard on it.
So instead of the usual bitterness that surrounded Irakles whenever he was summoned to attend a formal court session, instead today, the retired General of the Taengean armies wore a smug smile as he strolled into the ballroom of his home. Technically, such functions should be held in the palati, and he has questioned his sister-in-law on why it had to be held at the Archontiko... but who ever understood Elise's logic. Besides, the Queen held Irakles in high regard, and the man had no wish to change that.
Therefore, Irakles had simply instructed Myrto and Meena to be of utmost help to the Queen in the day's leading up to the event, and would merely appear when it was time - as men did.
Trussed up in the finest royal colors, he had opted for the Mikaelidas colors of maroon and gold, the white as a basal undertone that allowed the two strong colors to meld why, forming a strong statement as he entered the hall. Already, the early comers mingled, and servants meandered the area serving chalices of the finest Condos and Leventi wines, as well as finger food for all. The music played in the background, and the dance floor had long since been opened. The whole hall itself was gilded in gold, a crest of the Mikaelidas lion atop the main dais where the Queen had no doubt stood to officiate the event.
Instinctively, the man's eyes roamed to find his brother - he should greet them first, afterall. This may be his home, but Irakles had long since learned to bite his tongue and provide his brother and sister-in-law the grace they by right should get. The nobles would whisper and tongues would wag if he did not, and while Irakles's plans would soon fall in place, he still needed to ensure he remained in the good books of the people in Taengea.
As such, he put on the best diplomatic smile he had, and strolled up with a friendly laugh to greet the King and Queen who preside over the event, all while keeping an eye out for his wife and sons. They should know propriety and manners, and Irakles expected their arrival soon, for any later would mean to be disrespectful and tardy.
With five daughter's in tow, it is never easy for the family to make their way out. Even after she's tasked Georgios to ensure Selene and Theodora was ready, and checked in on Olympia, Evelli still found herself running late as she ensured Nana and Imma were both ready, before the whole family of seven piled into the two carriages that would bring them to the Archontiko Mikaelidas. Queen Elise threw these parties every so often, but Evelli's anxiousness to get all her girl's looking her best as they went there was more then just to impress the Queen.
With five unmarried girls, Selene was destined, at least Evelli firmly believed, to be married to the crown prince himself, and the lady would not be deterred from the aim, no matter how many times Georgios told her to calm down. She had pulled her eldest aside and practically ensured the blonde glowed like a star in what she dressed for the night, with one instruction only - get his attention. Crown Prince Zacharias had no better option to marry then her daughter, and with Selene being rumored to be blessed by the Goddess Aphrodite herself, she found no reason why the royal prince would reject her.
Of course, she also had four other daughter's to ensure good marriages to. Imma was still a tad too young of course, but the rest of them were of perfect ages, no matter what Georgios said. Her husband tried to rein her in, but Evelli was a force of nature when it came to arranging marriages for all her offspring.
But she had to. They had no direct male relative to rely on, should anything happen to her and their father. That was her motivation.
Ignoring Georgios's pleading gaze to allow the girl's to simply have fun for the night, Evelli quickly straightened up all five of her daughter's as they alighted from the carriages, before leading them in. Her own plum colored chiton was cinched at the waist, and was coupled with a pastel purple overlay on top that was pinned over her left shoulder, leaving the right bare. Her curled brunette locks were piled in a high chignon, showing the proud arch of her neck and the fine bronzed tint of her skin as they entered the ballroom.
"Selene, you know what to do." she murmured to her eldest. Quickly reminding the rest of her girl's to stay by her side, Evelli's smile was regal as it was friendly as they entered on her husband's arm, ready for a night of matchmaking.
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With five daughter's in tow, it is never easy for the family to make their way out. Even after she's tasked Georgios to ensure Selene and Theodora was ready, and checked in on Olympia, Evelli still found herself running late as she ensured Nana and Imma were both ready, before the whole family of seven piled into the two carriages that would bring them to the Archontiko Mikaelidas. Queen Elise threw these parties every so often, but Evelli's anxiousness to get all her girl's looking her best as they went there was more then just to impress the Queen.
With five unmarried girls, Selene was destined, at least Evelli firmly believed, to be married to the crown prince himself, and the lady would not be deterred from the aim, no matter how many times Georgios told her to calm down. She had pulled her eldest aside and practically ensured the blonde glowed like a star in what she dressed for the night, with one instruction only - get his attention. Crown Prince Zacharias had no better option to marry then her daughter, and with Selene being rumored to be blessed by the Goddess Aphrodite herself, she found no reason why the royal prince would reject her.
Of course, she also had four other daughter's to ensure good marriages to. Imma was still a tad too young of course, but the rest of them were of perfect ages, no matter what Georgios said. Her husband tried to rein her in, but Evelli was a force of nature when it came to arranging marriages for all her offspring.
But she had to. They had no direct male relative to rely on, should anything happen to her and their father. That was her motivation.
Ignoring Georgios's pleading gaze to allow the girl's to simply have fun for the night, Evelli quickly straightened up all five of her daughter's as they alighted from the carriages, before leading them in. Her own plum colored chiton was cinched at the waist, and was coupled with a pastel purple overlay on top that was pinned over her left shoulder, leaving the right bare. Her curled brunette locks were piled in a high chignon, showing the proud arch of her neck and the fine bronzed tint of her skin as they entered the ballroom.
"Selene, you know what to do." she murmured to her eldest. Quickly reminding the rest of her girl's to stay by her side, Evelli's smile was regal as it was friendly as they entered on her husband's arm, ready for a night of matchmaking.
With five daughter's in tow, it is never easy for the family to make their way out. Even after she's tasked Georgios to ensure Selene and Theodora was ready, and checked in on Olympia, Evelli still found herself running late as she ensured Nana and Imma were both ready, before the whole family of seven piled into the two carriages that would bring them to the Archontiko Mikaelidas. Queen Elise threw these parties every so often, but Evelli's anxiousness to get all her girl's looking her best as they went there was more then just to impress the Queen.
With five unmarried girls, Selene was destined, at least Evelli firmly believed, to be married to the crown prince himself, and the lady would not be deterred from the aim, no matter how many times Georgios told her to calm down. She had pulled her eldest aside and practically ensured the blonde glowed like a star in what she dressed for the night, with one instruction only - get his attention. Crown Prince Zacharias had no better option to marry then her daughter, and with Selene being rumored to be blessed by the Goddess Aphrodite herself, she found no reason why the royal prince would reject her.
Of course, she also had four other daughter's to ensure good marriages to. Imma was still a tad too young of course, but the rest of them were of perfect ages, no matter what Georgios said. Her husband tried to rein her in, but Evelli was a force of nature when it came to arranging marriages for all her offspring.
But she had to. They had no direct male relative to rely on, should anything happen to her and their father. That was her motivation.
Ignoring Georgios's pleading gaze to allow the girl's to simply have fun for the night, Evelli quickly straightened up all five of her daughter's as they alighted from the carriages, before leading them in. Her own plum colored chiton was cinched at the waist, and was coupled with a pastel purple overlay on top that was pinned over her left shoulder, leaving the right bare. Her curled brunette locks were piled in a high chignon, showing the proud arch of her neck and the fine bronzed tint of her skin as they entered the ballroom.
"Selene, you know what to do." she murmured to her eldest. Quickly reminding the rest of her girl's to stay by her side, Evelli's smile was regal as it was friendly as they entered on her husband's arm, ready for a night of matchmaking.
It was one of those events that Achilleas would have happily have forgone had it been an option. But knowing how an absence would appear and not wanting to aggrieve his aunt, nor his father for that matter, he had dutifully made the trip back to Vasiliadon from Euttica, with his mother in tow. Such events were the rare occasions where she would come back to Vasiliadon, as if the entire court did not know how her husband had shunned her in favour of the common born trollop who now resided in the family home. It was an awkward endeavour for Achilleas to be party to, but he had little choice.
The Mikaelidas archontiko was a hive of activity in preparation for the event to be hosted by the Queen, and after making a cursory visit to his father and seeing his mother settled, Achilleas had retired to his own quarters.
It was one pleasant diversion of the trip, the time he could claim with Briseis,and the Mikaelidas Lord had done just that, sending away his retainer and allowing the tawny haired girl to attend to him as he bathed, and then beyond. He even broke his own rules and kept her with him when she should technically have been working- it had been a while since he’d been back in the capital, and it was difficult to give up a welcoming pair of arms when she wrapped herself around him so delightfully.
All of which meant Achilleas was in a better mood the following day when it came to getting ready for the evening’s events. Garbed in a chiton of the deepest red, it was set off by the gold bands that wrapped around his biceps and the ceremonial sword that hung at his waist. Even in more elegant and formal attire such as this, there was no mistaking the Mikaelidas Lord for anything but the warrior that he was. Broad through the shoulders, Achilleas was solidly built, and like his father and brother too, stood tall amongst men in Greece.
He cut an imposing figure then, as he entered the grand hall where the King and Queen already waited to receive guests. Pausing just within the doors, Achilleas accepted a goblet of wine from the serving staff, a sweeping gaze taking measure of those already in attendance and deciding where he should focus his attention. His eyes passed over the girl who had shared his bed the night before with a practiced indifference, she would find no favour from Achilleas when he was at an engagement such as this. Away from the gaze of others, it might be a different story, but here, his public face was fully in place and he did not spare a second glance for Briseis.
Instead, the baron first moved to greet his Aunt and Uncle, bowing to them, and then offering his father the same courtesy. There was no sign of Meena and he could at least be grateful for that.
“Your majesties, your highness”. Achilleas rose back to his full height, and cast a glance around, looking for his royal cousins, or his brother for that matter, because he knew Emilios knew better than to be late to an event such as this.
He found Zacharias and Stephanos standing a little way off, and was glad to have a reason not to remain standing beside his father. It was a natural gravitation that pulled him towards the brothers and Achilleas’ greeted both warmly. Purely social occasions between them were few and far between now, and he thought that perhaps this event might be more enjoyable than he had first thought, particularly when the doors of the hall opened to admit the Leventi House and their gaggle of beautiful daughters.
Stephanos of course had made his own bed in that regard, and it was well known that the Lady Selene was set for Zacharias. Achilleas himself though had more than a passing interesting in one of those Leventi daughters who accompanied their mother, and much as he tried to be subtle about it, his gaze was drawn unerringly towards the dark-haired Theodora, and he wondered if he might steal a few moments with her that evening.
“The gods are perhaps smiling on us” he said, with a sideways glance at Stephanos and Zacharias. “Be careful, you shall both find yourselves wed before the night is through. Lady Evelli has that determined look about her.”
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It was one of those events that Achilleas would have happily have forgone had it been an option. But knowing how an absence would appear and not wanting to aggrieve his aunt, nor his father for that matter, he had dutifully made the trip back to Vasiliadon from Euttica, with his mother in tow. Such events were the rare occasions where she would come back to Vasiliadon, as if the entire court did not know how her husband had shunned her in favour of the common born trollop who now resided in the family home. It was an awkward endeavour for Achilleas to be party to, but he had little choice.
The Mikaelidas archontiko was a hive of activity in preparation for the event to be hosted by the Queen, and after making a cursory visit to his father and seeing his mother settled, Achilleas had retired to his own quarters.
It was one pleasant diversion of the trip, the time he could claim with Briseis,and the Mikaelidas Lord had done just that, sending away his retainer and allowing the tawny haired girl to attend to him as he bathed, and then beyond. He even broke his own rules and kept her with him when she should technically have been working- it had been a while since he’d been back in the capital, and it was difficult to give up a welcoming pair of arms when she wrapped herself around him so delightfully.
All of which meant Achilleas was in a better mood the following day when it came to getting ready for the evening’s events. Garbed in a chiton of the deepest red, it was set off by the gold bands that wrapped around his biceps and the ceremonial sword that hung at his waist. Even in more elegant and formal attire such as this, there was no mistaking the Mikaelidas Lord for anything but the warrior that he was. Broad through the shoulders, Achilleas was solidly built, and like his father and brother too, stood tall amongst men in Greece.
He cut an imposing figure then, as he entered the grand hall where the King and Queen already waited to receive guests. Pausing just within the doors, Achilleas accepted a goblet of wine from the serving staff, a sweeping gaze taking measure of those already in attendance and deciding where he should focus his attention. His eyes passed over the girl who had shared his bed the night before with a practiced indifference, she would find no favour from Achilleas when he was at an engagement such as this. Away from the gaze of others, it might be a different story, but here, his public face was fully in place and he did not spare a second glance for Briseis.
Instead, the baron first moved to greet his Aunt and Uncle, bowing to them, and then offering his father the same courtesy. There was no sign of Meena and he could at least be grateful for that.
“Your majesties, your highness”. Achilleas rose back to his full height, and cast a glance around, looking for his royal cousins, or his brother for that matter, because he knew Emilios knew better than to be late to an event such as this.
He found Zacharias and Stephanos standing a little way off, and was glad to have a reason not to remain standing beside his father. It was a natural gravitation that pulled him towards the brothers and Achilleas’ greeted both warmly. Purely social occasions between them were few and far between now, and he thought that perhaps this event might be more enjoyable than he had first thought, particularly when the doors of the hall opened to admit the Leventi House and their gaggle of beautiful daughters.
Stephanos of course had made his own bed in that regard, and it was well known that the Lady Selene was set for Zacharias. Achilleas himself though had more than a passing interesting in one of those Leventi daughters who accompanied their mother, and much as he tried to be subtle about it, his gaze was drawn unerringly towards the dark-haired Theodora, and he wondered if he might steal a few moments with her that evening.
“The gods are perhaps smiling on us” he said, with a sideways glance at Stephanos and Zacharias. “Be careful, you shall both find yourselves wed before the night is through. Lady Evelli has that determined look about her.”
It was one of those events that Achilleas would have happily have forgone had it been an option. But knowing how an absence would appear and not wanting to aggrieve his aunt, nor his father for that matter, he had dutifully made the trip back to Vasiliadon from Euttica, with his mother in tow. Such events were the rare occasions where she would come back to Vasiliadon, as if the entire court did not know how her husband had shunned her in favour of the common born trollop who now resided in the family home. It was an awkward endeavour for Achilleas to be party to, but he had little choice.
The Mikaelidas archontiko was a hive of activity in preparation for the event to be hosted by the Queen, and after making a cursory visit to his father and seeing his mother settled, Achilleas had retired to his own quarters.
It was one pleasant diversion of the trip, the time he could claim with Briseis,and the Mikaelidas Lord had done just that, sending away his retainer and allowing the tawny haired girl to attend to him as he bathed, and then beyond. He even broke his own rules and kept her with him when she should technically have been working- it had been a while since he’d been back in the capital, and it was difficult to give up a welcoming pair of arms when she wrapped herself around him so delightfully.
All of which meant Achilleas was in a better mood the following day when it came to getting ready for the evening’s events. Garbed in a chiton of the deepest red, it was set off by the gold bands that wrapped around his biceps and the ceremonial sword that hung at his waist. Even in more elegant and formal attire such as this, there was no mistaking the Mikaelidas Lord for anything but the warrior that he was. Broad through the shoulders, Achilleas was solidly built, and like his father and brother too, stood tall amongst men in Greece.
He cut an imposing figure then, as he entered the grand hall where the King and Queen already waited to receive guests. Pausing just within the doors, Achilleas accepted a goblet of wine from the serving staff, a sweeping gaze taking measure of those already in attendance and deciding where he should focus his attention. His eyes passed over the girl who had shared his bed the night before with a practiced indifference, she would find no favour from Achilleas when he was at an engagement such as this. Away from the gaze of others, it might be a different story, but here, his public face was fully in place and he did not spare a second glance for Briseis.
Instead, the baron first moved to greet his Aunt and Uncle, bowing to them, and then offering his father the same courtesy. There was no sign of Meena and he could at least be grateful for that.
“Your majesties, your highness”. Achilleas rose back to his full height, and cast a glance around, looking for his royal cousins, or his brother for that matter, because he knew Emilios knew better than to be late to an event such as this.
He found Zacharias and Stephanos standing a little way off, and was glad to have a reason not to remain standing beside his father. It was a natural gravitation that pulled him towards the brothers and Achilleas’ greeted both warmly. Purely social occasions between them were few and far between now, and he thought that perhaps this event might be more enjoyable than he had first thought, particularly when the doors of the hall opened to admit the Leventi House and their gaggle of beautiful daughters.
Stephanos of course had made his own bed in that regard, and it was well known that the Lady Selene was set for Zacharias. Achilleas himself though had more than a passing interesting in one of those Leventi daughters who accompanied their mother, and much as he tried to be subtle about it, his gaze was drawn unerringly towards the dark-haired Theodora, and he wondered if he might steal a few moments with her that evening.
“The gods are perhaps smiling on us” he said, with a sideways glance at Stephanos and Zacharias. “Be careful, you shall both find yourselves wed before the night is through. Lady Evelli has that determined look about her.”
Unlike the other members of his family in attendance, Stephanos loved this little bash his mother threw. It’d been a year or two since she’d done one this large, though, that was a relative term. This was more for the noble houses, rather than all the outlying barons, though they certainly weren’t barred. They just probably wouldn’t make an appearance. This was what Stephanos liked most; being around his peers who were far less likely to make a big deal out of lavish food or decorations or the names of who attended.
He’d arrived with his parents and siblings, and like a few of his family members, he wore crimson and gold. His prince’s circlet in place for this occasion, he pushed at it, setting it a little askew. It was all well and fine to wear it for a little while but after a time, it felt like a foreign, annoying weight, light though it might be in his hands. Standing next to his parents for a little while, he had grown weary of having to greet guests and so had prodded and shoved, side stepping until he’d managed to convince his brother away from the family greeting formation.
“I think this will go well,” he said to his brother as a servant came around, offering them the choice of wine sitting on a silver platter. His fingers closed around the stems of two wine glasses and he took one for himself and handed his brother the other. It was then that he spied Achilleas walking into the room and he watched his cousin bowing to his father, mother, and uncle before Achilleas turned, scanning the room. Stephanos grinned when he met the other’s gaze and motioned with his head for Achilleas to join them.
“My lord,” Stephanos greeted Achilleas, but before he could get further than that, the doors burst open and in flowed the gorgeous wave of Leventi girls from Lord Georgios’s line. Stephanos eyed Olympia immediately but made no move to go to her. His eyes then shifted to Evelli. He and Olympia might be spending nights together, but it wasn’t like he was going to marry her and if he paid too much attention to Evelli’s third daughter, he’d find himself in a temple vowing himself to Olympia before the gods, wondering how such a thing had even happened.
“The gods are perhaps smiling on us,” Achilleas pointed out, side eyeing them.
“Or laughing,” Stephanos countered.
“Be careful, you shall both find yourselves wed before the night is through. Lady Evelli has that determined look about her.”
“Hardly,” Stephanos boasted. “I’ll dance with all of them and then she can’t pin me to any one of them in particular.” That was his working plan, at least. There was no way he was going to stay on the sidelines when so many temptations were fluttering here and there, making eyes at them. He was wondering how he could part Olympia from her family for a quick tryst and return her before Evelli found out about it. Not that he thought he’d get in trouble with the matriarch...unless she asked him flat out about marriage. Then he’d find himself skinned alive.
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Unlike the other members of his family in attendance, Stephanos loved this little bash his mother threw. It’d been a year or two since she’d done one this large, though, that was a relative term. This was more for the noble houses, rather than all the outlying barons, though they certainly weren’t barred. They just probably wouldn’t make an appearance. This was what Stephanos liked most; being around his peers who were far less likely to make a big deal out of lavish food or decorations or the names of who attended.
He’d arrived with his parents and siblings, and like a few of his family members, he wore crimson and gold. His prince’s circlet in place for this occasion, he pushed at it, setting it a little askew. It was all well and fine to wear it for a little while but after a time, it felt like a foreign, annoying weight, light though it might be in his hands. Standing next to his parents for a little while, he had grown weary of having to greet guests and so had prodded and shoved, side stepping until he’d managed to convince his brother away from the family greeting formation.
“I think this will go well,” he said to his brother as a servant came around, offering them the choice of wine sitting on a silver platter. His fingers closed around the stems of two wine glasses and he took one for himself and handed his brother the other. It was then that he spied Achilleas walking into the room and he watched his cousin bowing to his father, mother, and uncle before Achilleas turned, scanning the room. Stephanos grinned when he met the other’s gaze and motioned with his head for Achilleas to join them.
“My lord,” Stephanos greeted Achilleas, but before he could get further than that, the doors burst open and in flowed the gorgeous wave of Leventi girls from Lord Georgios’s line. Stephanos eyed Olympia immediately but made no move to go to her. His eyes then shifted to Evelli. He and Olympia might be spending nights together, but it wasn’t like he was going to marry her and if he paid too much attention to Evelli’s third daughter, he’d find himself in a temple vowing himself to Olympia before the gods, wondering how such a thing had even happened.
“The gods are perhaps smiling on us,” Achilleas pointed out, side eyeing them.
“Or laughing,” Stephanos countered.
“Be careful, you shall both find yourselves wed before the night is through. Lady Evelli has that determined look about her.”
“Hardly,” Stephanos boasted. “I’ll dance with all of them and then she can’t pin me to any one of them in particular.” That was his working plan, at least. There was no way he was going to stay on the sidelines when so many temptations were fluttering here and there, making eyes at them. He was wondering how he could part Olympia from her family for a quick tryst and return her before Evelli found out about it. Not that he thought he’d get in trouble with the matriarch...unless she asked him flat out about marriage. Then he’d find himself skinned alive.
Unlike the other members of his family in attendance, Stephanos loved this little bash his mother threw. It’d been a year or two since she’d done one this large, though, that was a relative term. This was more for the noble houses, rather than all the outlying barons, though they certainly weren’t barred. They just probably wouldn’t make an appearance. This was what Stephanos liked most; being around his peers who were far less likely to make a big deal out of lavish food or decorations or the names of who attended.
He’d arrived with his parents and siblings, and like a few of his family members, he wore crimson and gold. His prince’s circlet in place for this occasion, he pushed at it, setting it a little askew. It was all well and fine to wear it for a little while but after a time, it felt like a foreign, annoying weight, light though it might be in his hands. Standing next to his parents for a little while, he had grown weary of having to greet guests and so had prodded and shoved, side stepping until he’d managed to convince his brother away from the family greeting formation.
“I think this will go well,” he said to his brother as a servant came around, offering them the choice of wine sitting on a silver platter. His fingers closed around the stems of two wine glasses and he took one for himself and handed his brother the other. It was then that he spied Achilleas walking into the room and he watched his cousin bowing to his father, mother, and uncle before Achilleas turned, scanning the room. Stephanos grinned when he met the other’s gaze and motioned with his head for Achilleas to join them.
“My lord,” Stephanos greeted Achilleas, but before he could get further than that, the doors burst open and in flowed the gorgeous wave of Leventi girls from Lord Georgios’s line. Stephanos eyed Olympia immediately but made no move to go to her. His eyes then shifted to Evelli. He and Olympia might be spending nights together, but it wasn’t like he was going to marry her and if he paid too much attention to Evelli’s third daughter, he’d find himself in a temple vowing himself to Olympia before the gods, wondering how such a thing had even happened.
“The gods are perhaps smiling on us,” Achilleas pointed out, side eyeing them.
“Or laughing,” Stephanos countered.
“Be careful, you shall both find yourselves wed before the night is through. Lady Evelli has that determined look about her.”
“Hardly,” Stephanos boasted. “I’ll dance with all of them and then she can’t pin me to any one of them in particular.” That was his working plan, at least. There was no way he was going to stay on the sidelines when so many temptations were fluttering here and there, making eyes at them. He was wondering how he could part Olympia from her family for a quick tryst and return her before Evelli found out about it. Not that he thought he’d get in trouble with the matriarch...unless she asked him flat out about marriage. Then he’d find himself skinned alive.
Zacharias did not despise these events, but he didn’t look forward to them, either. They were a necessary evil, and he treated them as such. Dressing with great care, donning the crimson and gold of his house like his brother had done, though his chiton was longer than Stephanos’s and he’d taken care to wear golden bands on his wrists and had done as Achilleas had, wearing a gold band on his upper arm. His brother had no jewelry on his person other than the house signet ring and prince’s circlet, mirroring the one that Zacharias also wore. By the time that he had noticed Stephanos’s insistence on showing up in attire that only barely passed muster, it was too late to make his little brother go back. That preserved their difference in rank, at any rate, with Stephanos very clearly being the second prince, while Zacharias looked every inch the Crown Prince.
“I think this will go well,” Stephanos said, handing him a drink as the two of them stood off to the side.
“I see no reason why it shouldn’t,” Zacharias replied dryly, glancing down at the wine his little brother handed him but making no move to drink it. At his cousin’s appearance, Zacharias smiled tightly. It was a genuine smile but he rarely grinned in the easy way Stephanos did. The Crown Prince was not one to openly display all his emotions, but nor was he stunted in that regard. Whatever he did give people was tightly controlled and small when out in public. Always conscious of being the future monarch, he wanted his reception to his people to be perfect. Stephanos was lucky that he didn’t have to worry about that.
“Achilleas,” Zacharias greeted in time with Stephanos. He was barely listening to Stephanos and Achilleas talking because his stomach dropped when the Leventi’s arrived. Achilleas looked at Theodora, Stephanos at Olympia, and Zacharias regarded Selene with an intense dread. She’d make a beeline for him and he was already trying to figure out how to get out of her clutches. He knew better than to rely on Stephanos, who would not be made to understand why he didn’t anything to do with the eldest and one could say, most beautiful of the daughters.
“Excuse me,” Zacharias said at once. “I must speak with our uncle.” With that, he made quick strides towards Irakles, hoping to fall into a long and intense discussion of military and political tactics that could, hopefully, be debated long into the night. That would prevent dancing, discussion, and all manner of tom foolery.
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Zacharias did not despise these events, but he didn’t look forward to them, either. They were a necessary evil, and he treated them as such. Dressing with great care, donning the crimson and gold of his house like his brother had done, though his chiton was longer than Stephanos’s and he’d taken care to wear golden bands on his wrists and had done as Achilleas had, wearing a gold band on his upper arm. His brother had no jewelry on his person other than the house signet ring and prince’s circlet, mirroring the one that Zacharias also wore. By the time that he had noticed Stephanos’s insistence on showing up in attire that only barely passed muster, it was too late to make his little brother go back. That preserved their difference in rank, at any rate, with Stephanos very clearly being the second prince, while Zacharias looked every inch the Crown Prince.
“I think this will go well,” Stephanos said, handing him a drink as the two of them stood off to the side.
“I see no reason why it shouldn’t,” Zacharias replied dryly, glancing down at the wine his little brother handed him but making no move to drink it. At his cousin’s appearance, Zacharias smiled tightly. It was a genuine smile but he rarely grinned in the easy way Stephanos did. The Crown Prince was not one to openly display all his emotions, but nor was he stunted in that regard. Whatever he did give people was tightly controlled and small when out in public. Always conscious of being the future monarch, he wanted his reception to his people to be perfect. Stephanos was lucky that he didn’t have to worry about that.
“Achilleas,” Zacharias greeted in time with Stephanos. He was barely listening to Stephanos and Achilleas talking because his stomach dropped when the Leventi’s arrived. Achilleas looked at Theodora, Stephanos at Olympia, and Zacharias regarded Selene with an intense dread. She’d make a beeline for him and he was already trying to figure out how to get out of her clutches. He knew better than to rely on Stephanos, who would not be made to understand why he didn’t anything to do with the eldest and one could say, most beautiful of the daughters.
“Excuse me,” Zacharias said at once. “I must speak with our uncle.” With that, he made quick strides towards Irakles, hoping to fall into a long and intense discussion of military and political tactics that could, hopefully, be debated long into the night. That would prevent dancing, discussion, and all manner of tom foolery.
Zacharias did not despise these events, but he didn’t look forward to them, either. They were a necessary evil, and he treated them as such. Dressing with great care, donning the crimson and gold of his house like his brother had done, though his chiton was longer than Stephanos’s and he’d taken care to wear golden bands on his wrists and had done as Achilleas had, wearing a gold band on his upper arm. His brother had no jewelry on his person other than the house signet ring and prince’s circlet, mirroring the one that Zacharias also wore. By the time that he had noticed Stephanos’s insistence on showing up in attire that only barely passed muster, it was too late to make his little brother go back. That preserved their difference in rank, at any rate, with Stephanos very clearly being the second prince, while Zacharias looked every inch the Crown Prince.
“I think this will go well,” Stephanos said, handing him a drink as the two of them stood off to the side.
“I see no reason why it shouldn’t,” Zacharias replied dryly, glancing down at the wine his little brother handed him but making no move to drink it. At his cousin’s appearance, Zacharias smiled tightly. It was a genuine smile but he rarely grinned in the easy way Stephanos did. The Crown Prince was not one to openly display all his emotions, but nor was he stunted in that regard. Whatever he did give people was tightly controlled and small when out in public. Always conscious of being the future monarch, he wanted his reception to his people to be perfect. Stephanos was lucky that he didn’t have to worry about that.
“Achilleas,” Zacharias greeted in time with Stephanos. He was barely listening to Stephanos and Achilleas talking because his stomach dropped when the Leventi’s arrived. Achilleas looked at Theodora, Stephanos at Olympia, and Zacharias regarded Selene with an intense dread. She’d make a beeline for him and he was already trying to figure out how to get out of her clutches. He knew better than to rely on Stephanos, who would not be made to understand why he didn’t anything to do with the eldest and one could say, most beautiful of the daughters.
“Excuse me,” Zacharias said at once. “I must speak with our uncle.” With that, he made quick strides towards Irakles, hoping to fall into a long and intense discussion of military and political tactics that could, hopefully, be debated long into the night. That would prevent dancing, discussion, and all manner of tom foolery.
Hesiodos was the best bard on Taengea; or at least he believed himself as such. For him, it was only natural that he was hired for the important events to offer music and entertainment. Thus, him playing the lyre and singing in the Mikaelidas palace in such an event was only natural. Everyone loved the bard.
As usual, he was offered his own room in the palati, where he had wine and people to warm his bed at leisure. Before the event, he drank his share of wine, knowing that he wouldn’t have much of a chance for that later, and dressed in his fine clothes: a wine red and gold modified chlamys with his signature broche in the shape of a songbird.
As the people danced on the dance floor he has visited countless times in the past, he played an upbeat tune with his lyre alongside the backup band which with he rehearsed days prior. This song was the classic: an ode to Dionysus, which as usual was something fit to dance to, to drink wine to, and to laugh to. As everyone was dancing already, it seemed to do just fine…
A part of him would have liked to dance with the partygoers, but he was just as happy to play the songs than made them dance. He lived for music, for entertainment, to make people happy, and to make them have a good time… that was the reason why he was always hired.
At the distance, he saw a known face: Achilleas, talking with Theodora. He was singing, so he couldn’t smile; and while he couldn’t go talk to him right now, he made sure to go pester him later. Another of the reasons he always took these jobs was because he had the chance to bother Achilleas.
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Hesiodos was the best bard on Taengea; or at least he believed himself as such. For him, it was only natural that he was hired for the important events to offer music and entertainment. Thus, him playing the lyre and singing in the Mikaelidas palace in such an event was only natural. Everyone loved the bard.
As usual, he was offered his own room in the palati, where he had wine and people to warm his bed at leisure. Before the event, he drank his share of wine, knowing that he wouldn’t have much of a chance for that later, and dressed in his fine clothes: a wine red and gold modified chlamys with his signature broche in the shape of a songbird.
As the people danced on the dance floor he has visited countless times in the past, he played an upbeat tune with his lyre alongside the backup band which with he rehearsed days prior. This song was the classic: an ode to Dionysus, which as usual was something fit to dance to, to drink wine to, and to laugh to. As everyone was dancing already, it seemed to do just fine…
A part of him would have liked to dance with the partygoers, but he was just as happy to play the songs than made them dance. He lived for music, for entertainment, to make people happy, and to make them have a good time… that was the reason why he was always hired.
At the distance, he saw a known face: Achilleas, talking with Theodora. He was singing, so he couldn’t smile; and while he couldn’t go talk to him right now, he made sure to go pester him later. Another of the reasons he always took these jobs was because he had the chance to bother Achilleas.
Hesiodos was the best bard on Taengea; or at least he believed himself as such. For him, it was only natural that he was hired for the important events to offer music and entertainment. Thus, him playing the lyre and singing in the Mikaelidas palace in such an event was only natural. Everyone loved the bard.
As usual, he was offered his own room in the palati, where he had wine and people to warm his bed at leisure. Before the event, he drank his share of wine, knowing that he wouldn’t have much of a chance for that later, and dressed in his fine clothes: a wine red and gold modified chlamys with his signature broche in the shape of a songbird.
As the people danced on the dance floor he has visited countless times in the past, he played an upbeat tune with his lyre alongside the backup band which with he rehearsed days prior. This song was the classic: an ode to Dionysus, which as usual was something fit to dance to, to drink wine to, and to laugh to. As everyone was dancing already, it seemed to do just fine…
A part of him would have liked to dance with the partygoers, but he was just as happy to play the songs than made them dance. He lived for music, for entertainment, to make people happy, and to make them have a good time… that was the reason why he was always hired.
At the distance, he saw a known face: Achilleas, talking with Theodora. He was singing, so he couldn’t smile; and while he couldn’t go talk to him right now, he made sure to go pester him later. Another of the reasons he always took these jobs was because he had the chance to bother Achilleas.
Were he ever asked if he was a patient man, Fotios was hard pressed to know the answer. And he was an intelligent man who knew the answer to many things. Yet patience...? He supposed it depended on the asker's definition. Was he a man who would wait out long periods of time in order to see what he planned and schemed to come to fruition? Then yes, he was patience incarnate; able to hold back personal desire and greed in order to allow the natural course of the most effective of plans and savour the smaller moments of victory along the way.
On the other hand, if someone had asked him if it frustrated him when something took longer than he had planned - when the pieces did not fall where they should when they should - then the answer was just as solidly in the affirmative. Fotios was able to wait long periods for his ambitions because it was a period of time he had already calculated and expected the plan to take. If, on the other hand, such a thing took longer - without his mental arithmetic making leniencies for it - then his mood was decided impatient.
Such as he was at this moment, standing in the foyer of the Leventi's main estate and calling to his wife in a tone of voice he rarely used with her.
"Eirini!" He called up the stairs, his voice not exactly a shout but the echoing of his tone bouncing off of the marble walls and staircase lending the holler a deep body and foreboding authority. They had been supposed to depart at least fifteen minutes ago, bound for the Mikaelidas Archontiko that was perhaps a ten-minute ride by carriage from the estate. Said carriage was waiting outside in the open courtyard and Fotios had been standing by the door for near a third of an hour.
Whilst his wife was a woman who would never leave the property unless her appearance was stellar in every manner, she was also a woman who knew of his feelings towards tardiness and occurrences that suggested a lack of organisation. Which meant that, despite her shallow and vain set of practicalities upon her looks, Fotios had every confidence that it was not she that held up her appearance in the front foyer. It would be one of their daughters: the three young women who would be accompanying their parents to the event.
Yet, it was Eirini's duty as his wife and their mother to ensure that all of them were prepared on time.
Hence, his irritation.
He did not call again towards the upper floors of the estate, for he had already made his voice and his displeasure known. To call again would be distracting or simply infuriating to the woman likely dealing with turmoil above. And he wasn't about to head up to his daughters' bed chambers and help her. One, because help would not be what Fotios was able to offer in the ways of a woman's toilette and two, because it wasn't his place as a man within the house. He allocated the deadline to which they were to be ready. The women were to ensure they followed to it.
For his own attire, Fotios was dressed simply in a shorter chiton, double-shouldered and fastened with long tendril sleeves that extended beyond the hem and to his knees, hanging between his torso and arms, fastened only by the fibulae upon each shoulder. Over the top, he wore a himation designed to be worn at an angle across one shoulder and fastened upon the other, whilst fine leather sandals wrapped from his feet to his knees. His hair, he had deigned to do anything with and tied it back in a no-nonsense bun that had, since he had made his way downstairs, loosed only a thin lock at his temple to hang at his cheek.
With his jaw tightening and popping on one side, Fotios retained his cool and held his ire inside as he waited for the rest of his less punctual family to finally join him, seething when he had heard Georgios and his family depart at least ten minutes prior...
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Were he ever asked if he was a patient man, Fotios was hard pressed to know the answer. And he was an intelligent man who knew the answer to many things. Yet patience...? He supposed it depended on the asker's definition. Was he a man who would wait out long periods of time in order to see what he planned and schemed to come to fruition? Then yes, he was patience incarnate; able to hold back personal desire and greed in order to allow the natural course of the most effective of plans and savour the smaller moments of victory along the way.
On the other hand, if someone had asked him if it frustrated him when something took longer than he had planned - when the pieces did not fall where they should when they should - then the answer was just as solidly in the affirmative. Fotios was able to wait long periods for his ambitions because it was a period of time he had already calculated and expected the plan to take. If, on the other hand, such a thing took longer - without his mental arithmetic making leniencies for it - then his mood was decided impatient.
Such as he was at this moment, standing in the foyer of the Leventi's main estate and calling to his wife in a tone of voice he rarely used with her.
"Eirini!" He called up the stairs, his voice not exactly a shout but the echoing of his tone bouncing off of the marble walls and staircase lending the holler a deep body and foreboding authority. They had been supposed to depart at least fifteen minutes ago, bound for the Mikaelidas Archontiko that was perhaps a ten-minute ride by carriage from the estate. Said carriage was waiting outside in the open courtyard and Fotios had been standing by the door for near a third of an hour.
Whilst his wife was a woman who would never leave the property unless her appearance was stellar in every manner, she was also a woman who knew of his feelings towards tardiness and occurrences that suggested a lack of organisation. Which meant that, despite her shallow and vain set of practicalities upon her looks, Fotios had every confidence that it was not she that held up her appearance in the front foyer. It would be one of their daughters: the three young women who would be accompanying their parents to the event.
Yet, it was Eirini's duty as his wife and their mother to ensure that all of them were prepared on time.
Hence, his irritation.
He did not call again towards the upper floors of the estate, for he had already made his voice and his displeasure known. To call again would be distracting or simply infuriating to the woman likely dealing with turmoil above. And he wasn't about to head up to his daughters' bed chambers and help her. One, because help would not be what Fotios was able to offer in the ways of a woman's toilette and two, because it wasn't his place as a man within the house. He allocated the deadline to which they were to be ready. The women were to ensure they followed to it.
For his own attire, Fotios was dressed simply in a shorter chiton, double-shouldered and fastened with long tendril sleeves that extended beyond the hem and to his knees, hanging between his torso and arms, fastened only by the fibulae upon each shoulder. Over the top, he wore a himation designed to be worn at an angle across one shoulder and fastened upon the other, whilst fine leather sandals wrapped from his feet to his knees. His hair, he had deigned to do anything with and tied it back in a no-nonsense bun that had, since he had made his way downstairs, loosed only a thin lock at his temple to hang at his cheek.
With his jaw tightening and popping on one side, Fotios retained his cool and held his ire inside as he waited for the rest of his less punctual family to finally join him, seething when he had heard Georgios and his family depart at least ten minutes prior...
Were he ever asked if he was a patient man, Fotios was hard pressed to know the answer. And he was an intelligent man who knew the answer to many things. Yet patience...? He supposed it depended on the asker's definition. Was he a man who would wait out long periods of time in order to see what he planned and schemed to come to fruition? Then yes, he was patience incarnate; able to hold back personal desire and greed in order to allow the natural course of the most effective of plans and savour the smaller moments of victory along the way.
On the other hand, if someone had asked him if it frustrated him when something took longer than he had planned - when the pieces did not fall where they should when they should - then the answer was just as solidly in the affirmative. Fotios was able to wait long periods for his ambitions because it was a period of time he had already calculated and expected the plan to take. If, on the other hand, such a thing took longer - without his mental arithmetic making leniencies for it - then his mood was decided impatient.
Such as he was at this moment, standing in the foyer of the Leventi's main estate and calling to his wife in a tone of voice he rarely used with her.
"Eirini!" He called up the stairs, his voice not exactly a shout but the echoing of his tone bouncing off of the marble walls and staircase lending the holler a deep body and foreboding authority. They had been supposed to depart at least fifteen minutes ago, bound for the Mikaelidas Archontiko that was perhaps a ten-minute ride by carriage from the estate. Said carriage was waiting outside in the open courtyard and Fotios had been standing by the door for near a third of an hour.
Whilst his wife was a woman who would never leave the property unless her appearance was stellar in every manner, she was also a woman who knew of his feelings towards tardiness and occurrences that suggested a lack of organisation. Which meant that, despite her shallow and vain set of practicalities upon her looks, Fotios had every confidence that it was not she that held up her appearance in the front foyer. It would be one of their daughters: the three young women who would be accompanying their parents to the event.
Yet, it was Eirini's duty as his wife and their mother to ensure that all of them were prepared on time.
Hence, his irritation.
He did not call again towards the upper floors of the estate, for he had already made his voice and his displeasure known. To call again would be distracting or simply infuriating to the woman likely dealing with turmoil above. And he wasn't about to head up to his daughters' bed chambers and help her. One, because help would not be what Fotios was able to offer in the ways of a woman's toilette and two, because it wasn't his place as a man within the house. He allocated the deadline to which they were to be ready. The women were to ensure they followed to it.
For his own attire, Fotios was dressed simply in a shorter chiton, double-shouldered and fastened with long tendril sleeves that extended beyond the hem and to his knees, hanging between his torso and arms, fastened only by the fibulae upon each shoulder. Over the top, he wore a himation designed to be worn at an angle across one shoulder and fastened upon the other, whilst fine leather sandals wrapped from his feet to his knees. His hair, he had deigned to do anything with and tied it back in a no-nonsense bun that had, since he had made his way downstairs, loosed only a thin lock at his temple to hang at his cheek.
With his jaw tightening and popping on one side, Fotios retained his cool and held his ire inside as he waited for the rest of his less punctual family to finally join him, seething when he had heard Georgios and his family depart at least ten minutes prior...
Melina knew that patience was not a virtue that her father had, so when she heard the shout from up the stairs, she slipped into the hallway, hearing her mother's insistence that Dafni would hold still. There was a tear in her dress, one that Dafni kept making worse by squirming away from the pins. "I'll tell father what is going on." A sigh of relief was all she heard as she moved down the hall, reaching the balustrade and landing that parted her from her father by a few stair steps.
Dressed in muted colors, despite her mother's insistence that she choose something flashier, however, Melina insisted on something softer, more conservative than an outfit that Eirini had presented her with. A gleam in her mother's eyes was nothing to refuse, so holding in a sigh, the woman tried on the outfit. At least it was soft. A pale rosy hue. That said, she did see herself as rather attractive as she glanced at her reflection, but it felt like a fluke as if the noble was wearing a second-skin that did not belong to her.
"She'll be down soon, father. Dafni is still getting ready." Yes, that was the best way of speaking about what had happened. Not mentioning the tear in her outfit that was swiftly being fixed by the servants upstairs seemed like a wise idea. So, holding in her breath, relieved that the material was not scratchy in the very least, Melina made her descent downstairs to the foyer, giving her father a small smile in hopes to soothe his ire.
Of course, Melina knew that they were expected, but neither of the sisters would be the stars of the party as the cousins. Nor would they be expected to find a suitor for the night either. In fact, Fotios seemed more focused on getting his nieces wed than his own daughters. Something Melina was both relieved and devastated by. Was it because we aren't good enough? The side of her that always sought her father's approval was coming out once more, a timid piece of an overall soft woman, tearing at whatever confidence she had felt with painted lips and eyes. A soft brown, covering her eyelids, one that her mother had said would make her eyes pop. A dress, while pale, matched her angular form with flattery. Yet, it still wasn't enough in her eyes, but she knew that she wasn't who everyone wanted to see anyway, so she quieted her thoughts, instead of looking at her father expectantly.
"How late are we, father?" Her tone, soft, as if frightened of the answer. She knew that punctuality was practically impossible in a family where Dafni or Eirini was around. It wasn't that her mother was never punctual, rather it was Dafni. The beauty of the household, one that was shared by her mother, always wanted to be the star. Perhaps, she too saw an amicable rivalry with her cousins, desperate to prove that at least one of Fotios' daughters were superior to the rest of the crop. Honestly, Melina was never sure.
"They say that a guest can never be too late if they arrive fashionably." It was as if she was trying to recite words that her mother had instilled within her whenever the young woman worried about her father's disapproval with each passing minute.
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Melina knew that patience was not a virtue that her father had, so when she heard the shout from up the stairs, she slipped into the hallway, hearing her mother's insistence that Dafni would hold still. There was a tear in her dress, one that Dafni kept making worse by squirming away from the pins. "I'll tell father what is going on." A sigh of relief was all she heard as she moved down the hall, reaching the balustrade and landing that parted her from her father by a few stair steps.
Dressed in muted colors, despite her mother's insistence that she choose something flashier, however, Melina insisted on something softer, more conservative than an outfit that Eirini had presented her with. A gleam in her mother's eyes was nothing to refuse, so holding in a sigh, the woman tried on the outfit. At least it was soft. A pale rosy hue. That said, she did see herself as rather attractive as she glanced at her reflection, but it felt like a fluke as if the noble was wearing a second-skin that did not belong to her.
"She'll be down soon, father. Dafni is still getting ready." Yes, that was the best way of speaking about what had happened. Not mentioning the tear in her outfit that was swiftly being fixed by the servants upstairs seemed like a wise idea. So, holding in her breath, relieved that the material was not scratchy in the very least, Melina made her descent downstairs to the foyer, giving her father a small smile in hopes to soothe his ire.
Of course, Melina knew that they were expected, but neither of the sisters would be the stars of the party as the cousins. Nor would they be expected to find a suitor for the night either. In fact, Fotios seemed more focused on getting his nieces wed than his own daughters. Something Melina was both relieved and devastated by. Was it because we aren't good enough? The side of her that always sought her father's approval was coming out once more, a timid piece of an overall soft woman, tearing at whatever confidence she had felt with painted lips and eyes. A soft brown, covering her eyelids, one that her mother had said would make her eyes pop. A dress, while pale, matched her angular form with flattery. Yet, it still wasn't enough in her eyes, but she knew that she wasn't who everyone wanted to see anyway, so she quieted her thoughts, instead of looking at her father expectantly.
"How late are we, father?" Her tone, soft, as if frightened of the answer. She knew that punctuality was practically impossible in a family where Dafni or Eirini was around. It wasn't that her mother was never punctual, rather it was Dafni. The beauty of the household, one that was shared by her mother, always wanted to be the star. Perhaps, she too saw an amicable rivalry with her cousins, desperate to prove that at least one of Fotios' daughters were superior to the rest of the crop. Honestly, Melina was never sure.
"They say that a guest can never be too late if they arrive fashionably." It was as if she was trying to recite words that her mother had instilled within her whenever the young woman worried about her father's disapproval with each passing minute.
Melina knew that patience was not a virtue that her father had, so when she heard the shout from up the stairs, she slipped into the hallway, hearing her mother's insistence that Dafni would hold still. There was a tear in her dress, one that Dafni kept making worse by squirming away from the pins. "I'll tell father what is going on." A sigh of relief was all she heard as she moved down the hall, reaching the balustrade and landing that parted her from her father by a few stair steps.
Dressed in muted colors, despite her mother's insistence that she choose something flashier, however, Melina insisted on something softer, more conservative than an outfit that Eirini had presented her with. A gleam in her mother's eyes was nothing to refuse, so holding in a sigh, the woman tried on the outfit. At least it was soft. A pale rosy hue. That said, she did see herself as rather attractive as she glanced at her reflection, but it felt like a fluke as if the noble was wearing a second-skin that did not belong to her.
"She'll be down soon, father. Dafni is still getting ready." Yes, that was the best way of speaking about what had happened. Not mentioning the tear in her outfit that was swiftly being fixed by the servants upstairs seemed like a wise idea. So, holding in her breath, relieved that the material was not scratchy in the very least, Melina made her descent downstairs to the foyer, giving her father a small smile in hopes to soothe his ire.
Of course, Melina knew that they were expected, but neither of the sisters would be the stars of the party as the cousins. Nor would they be expected to find a suitor for the night either. In fact, Fotios seemed more focused on getting his nieces wed than his own daughters. Something Melina was both relieved and devastated by. Was it because we aren't good enough? The side of her that always sought her father's approval was coming out once more, a timid piece of an overall soft woman, tearing at whatever confidence she had felt with painted lips and eyes. A soft brown, covering her eyelids, one that her mother had said would make her eyes pop. A dress, while pale, matched her angular form with flattery. Yet, it still wasn't enough in her eyes, but she knew that she wasn't who everyone wanted to see anyway, so she quieted her thoughts, instead of looking at her father expectantly.
"How late are we, father?" Her tone, soft, as if frightened of the answer. She knew that punctuality was practically impossible in a family where Dafni or Eirini was around. It wasn't that her mother was never punctual, rather it was Dafni. The beauty of the household, one that was shared by her mother, always wanted to be the star. Perhaps, she too saw an amicable rivalry with her cousins, desperate to prove that at least one of Fotios' daughters were superior to the rest of the crop. Honestly, Melina was never sure.
"They say that a guest can never be too late if they arrive fashionably." It was as if she was trying to recite words that her mother had instilled within her whenever the young woman worried about her father's disapproval with each passing minute.
Fotios' gaze was shrewd as he turned to witness his middle daughter descend the staircase into the foyer apparently ready to depart. Agape was in attendance with her cousin Evangelina that week so it would depend on whether the other branch of the family was invited to attend the Mikaelidas' festivities as to whether his eldest child would be present at all. At least that meant for only two offspring that his wide had to corral into some kind of appropriateness before they left their home ready to journey to the meet.
His gaze was quick to skim over his daughter but also to look away; his own form of approval. Had there been anything amiss with the girl's dress, he would have immediate pointed it out and not permitted her to leave until it was corrected. But his silence was confirmation of the opposite. Not one for flattery or compliments to even his own wife, he was hardly about to wax lyrical to his daughters. Though perhaps over so many years of being in his company and seeking parental approval, they would know well enough that no words were good words on Fotios' part. Especially when it came to feminine fashion.
"Dafni will forever be getting ready." Fotios said in a tone of discontent. His youngest daughter seemed to be the actress forever preening and never ready nor able to actually devise the skills to be on stage. A young woman too preoccupied with all the appearance of substance and none of the depth.
On the flip side, his middle child seemed determined to improve her inner worth and yet never made the effort on the outside. Her manner of raiment for this particular event, despite in a similar muted tone that she would often prefer, was a little more mature than she might normally wear. He was, in fact, please to note that Melina looked like a lady. Though she seemed a little out of sorts within the clinging gown and therefore carried off the look in a manner that was sub-par for the finest but fair enough that she would not disgrace herself. Which was generally the wide spread definition of his children. Better than average but not the best.
When the girl asked how late they were and then qualified her question by suggesting that a late arrival might be qualified by fashionable entrances, Fotios' brows dropped a little as they were prone to do when he was concentrating, despite it giving him the appearance of a light scowl.
"There is no degree of tardiness, Melina." He stated, a man of blunt black and white when it came to what he believed to be right and wrong. "One is either on time or they are not." And whilst she was right regarding the words her mother had preached on occasion, that was only true for the women of society. For they, arriving once others were already in attendance gave them an audience to impress their entry upon. For the men of the world, the arrival of others was one of the best moments in which to read intentions and hidden thoughts; the surprise, the welcome, the greeting... each read like a secret map to the enactor’s thoughts over another. And it was those looks and moments that Fotios was now missing, for he was not there. Information slipping through his fingers like water the longer he was forced to wait for his youngest daughter and wife. And if there was one thing that Fotios could not bear, beyond all tardiness and uselessness was the waste of good information and knowledge.
Looking towards his second born, Fotios' eyes watched her carefully as she moved to notice herself in the mirror in the hallway across from them. She seemed surprised that she appeared as she did - a young woman. And Fotios was irritated all over again. Firstly, she should have already been aware for years that she was a respectable young lady of the Leventi House. Secondly, her emotions were clear on her face. And if she was ever to be a success within her peers in the Court then she would need to scratch that habit out with ruthlessness.
"Stand up straight." He told her, as she had been leaning over to look upon her own reflection. "Shoulders back and hips turned out behind you. Your torso should feel like a bending bow." Only when she could feel her spine curved as if to take an arrow would she actually be standing straight and with accurate posture. "And stop looking so surprised that Leventi blood has seen to fine features."
It was perhaps the closest Fotios had ever come to paying her a direct compliment to her looks.
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Fotios' gaze was shrewd as he turned to witness his middle daughter descend the staircase into the foyer apparently ready to depart. Agape was in attendance with her cousin Evangelina that week so it would depend on whether the other branch of the family was invited to attend the Mikaelidas' festivities as to whether his eldest child would be present at all. At least that meant for only two offspring that his wide had to corral into some kind of appropriateness before they left their home ready to journey to the meet.
His gaze was quick to skim over his daughter but also to look away; his own form of approval. Had there been anything amiss with the girl's dress, he would have immediate pointed it out and not permitted her to leave until it was corrected. But his silence was confirmation of the opposite. Not one for flattery or compliments to even his own wife, he was hardly about to wax lyrical to his daughters. Though perhaps over so many years of being in his company and seeking parental approval, they would know well enough that no words were good words on Fotios' part. Especially when it came to feminine fashion.
"Dafni will forever be getting ready." Fotios said in a tone of discontent. His youngest daughter seemed to be the actress forever preening and never ready nor able to actually devise the skills to be on stage. A young woman too preoccupied with all the appearance of substance and none of the depth.
On the flip side, his middle child seemed determined to improve her inner worth and yet never made the effort on the outside. Her manner of raiment for this particular event, despite in a similar muted tone that she would often prefer, was a little more mature than she might normally wear. He was, in fact, please to note that Melina looked like a lady. Though she seemed a little out of sorts within the clinging gown and therefore carried off the look in a manner that was sub-par for the finest but fair enough that she would not disgrace herself. Which was generally the wide spread definition of his children. Better than average but not the best.
When the girl asked how late they were and then qualified her question by suggesting that a late arrival might be qualified by fashionable entrances, Fotios' brows dropped a little as they were prone to do when he was concentrating, despite it giving him the appearance of a light scowl.
"There is no degree of tardiness, Melina." He stated, a man of blunt black and white when it came to what he believed to be right and wrong. "One is either on time or they are not." And whilst she was right regarding the words her mother had preached on occasion, that was only true for the women of society. For they, arriving once others were already in attendance gave them an audience to impress their entry upon. For the men of the world, the arrival of others was one of the best moments in which to read intentions and hidden thoughts; the surprise, the welcome, the greeting... each read like a secret map to the enactor’s thoughts over another. And it was those looks and moments that Fotios was now missing, for he was not there. Information slipping through his fingers like water the longer he was forced to wait for his youngest daughter and wife. And if there was one thing that Fotios could not bear, beyond all tardiness and uselessness was the waste of good information and knowledge.
Looking towards his second born, Fotios' eyes watched her carefully as she moved to notice herself in the mirror in the hallway across from them. She seemed surprised that she appeared as she did - a young woman. And Fotios was irritated all over again. Firstly, she should have already been aware for years that she was a respectable young lady of the Leventi House. Secondly, her emotions were clear on her face. And if she was ever to be a success within her peers in the Court then she would need to scratch that habit out with ruthlessness.
"Stand up straight." He told her, as she had been leaning over to look upon her own reflection. "Shoulders back and hips turned out behind you. Your torso should feel like a bending bow." Only when she could feel her spine curved as if to take an arrow would she actually be standing straight and with accurate posture. "And stop looking so surprised that Leventi blood has seen to fine features."
It was perhaps the closest Fotios had ever come to paying her a direct compliment to her looks.
Fotios' gaze was shrewd as he turned to witness his middle daughter descend the staircase into the foyer apparently ready to depart. Agape was in attendance with her cousin Evangelina that week so it would depend on whether the other branch of the family was invited to attend the Mikaelidas' festivities as to whether his eldest child would be present at all. At least that meant for only two offspring that his wide had to corral into some kind of appropriateness before they left their home ready to journey to the meet.
His gaze was quick to skim over his daughter but also to look away; his own form of approval. Had there been anything amiss with the girl's dress, he would have immediate pointed it out and not permitted her to leave until it was corrected. But his silence was confirmation of the opposite. Not one for flattery or compliments to even his own wife, he was hardly about to wax lyrical to his daughters. Though perhaps over so many years of being in his company and seeking parental approval, they would know well enough that no words were good words on Fotios' part. Especially when it came to feminine fashion.
"Dafni will forever be getting ready." Fotios said in a tone of discontent. His youngest daughter seemed to be the actress forever preening and never ready nor able to actually devise the skills to be on stage. A young woman too preoccupied with all the appearance of substance and none of the depth.
On the flip side, his middle child seemed determined to improve her inner worth and yet never made the effort on the outside. Her manner of raiment for this particular event, despite in a similar muted tone that she would often prefer, was a little more mature than she might normally wear. He was, in fact, please to note that Melina looked like a lady. Though she seemed a little out of sorts within the clinging gown and therefore carried off the look in a manner that was sub-par for the finest but fair enough that she would not disgrace herself. Which was generally the wide spread definition of his children. Better than average but not the best.
When the girl asked how late they were and then qualified her question by suggesting that a late arrival might be qualified by fashionable entrances, Fotios' brows dropped a little as they were prone to do when he was concentrating, despite it giving him the appearance of a light scowl.
"There is no degree of tardiness, Melina." He stated, a man of blunt black and white when it came to what he believed to be right and wrong. "One is either on time or they are not." And whilst she was right regarding the words her mother had preached on occasion, that was only true for the women of society. For they, arriving once others were already in attendance gave them an audience to impress their entry upon. For the men of the world, the arrival of others was one of the best moments in which to read intentions and hidden thoughts; the surprise, the welcome, the greeting... each read like a secret map to the enactor’s thoughts over another. And it was those looks and moments that Fotios was now missing, for he was not there. Information slipping through his fingers like water the longer he was forced to wait for his youngest daughter and wife. And if there was one thing that Fotios could not bear, beyond all tardiness and uselessness was the waste of good information and knowledge.
Looking towards his second born, Fotios' eyes watched her carefully as she moved to notice herself in the mirror in the hallway across from them. She seemed surprised that she appeared as she did - a young woman. And Fotios was irritated all over again. Firstly, she should have already been aware for years that she was a respectable young lady of the Leventi House. Secondly, her emotions were clear on her face. And if she was ever to be a success within her peers in the Court then she would need to scratch that habit out with ruthlessness.
"Stand up straight." He told her, as she had been leaning over to look upon her own reflection. "Shoulders back and hips turned out behind you. Your torso should feel like a bending bow." Only when she could feel her spine curved as if to take an arrow would she actually be standing straight and with accurate posture. "And stop looking so surprised that Leventi blood has seen to fine features."
It was perhaps the closest Fotios had ever come to paying her a direct compliment to her looks.
Eirini grimaced slightly as her name pierced the air, she was a woman well versed with her husbands irritations but seldom was she on the receiving end of his ire. It, in-turn, evoked her own frustrations to rise to the surface and her last shred of composure to break, causing Eirini to grasp her flustered younger daughter by the forearms and berate her for all that had gone wrong that morning.
"You foolish girl, do you hear that? You have angered your father now!" Perhaps she was taking her own irritation, regarding the manner in which Fotios had spoken to her, out on Dafni but their tardiness had been of her own cause –– a tear in her dress from chasing the kitten! Honestly, how old was this girl? Acknowledgment of her wrongdoings may have appeased her mother, yet emotions came to the forefront; a trembling lip and glassy eyes ... tears would not help her cause. "Gods give me strength." She muttered lowly, releasing her grip of Dafni.
At least Melina had been dutiful that morning and her offer to inform Fotios about the delay was met with a firm nod of her head, "thank you, Melina."
Once her middle child had departed the room, Eirini turned her attentions back to Dafni and shook her head in disapproval, "why can you not be more like your sisters? you are not a child anymore, Dafni, such behaviour is incredibly unbecoming of a Leventi." Reaching down she took the material of the gown from the servants hand to examine her attempt to mend the tear. "This won't do, she'll have to change, bring the lilac garment instead.." Her daughters lips parted to protest her distaste of that particular chiton but Eirini quickly silenced her with a raised hand, "Not a word from you."
Turning away for a moment, Eirini tried to compose herself and took the opportunity to ensure that her own appearance was still impeccable. Her golden gown shimmered in the light, the silk caressing her body like a lovers touch and offering certain appreciation to her curves. Fastened above one shoulder, the golden Leventi pin held all in place whilst precious gems set upon golden mounts adorned her ears and wrists –– all starkly contrasting the onyx shine of her tumbling tresses.
Perhaps it was unbecoming on her volition to upstage her daughters in such a way, she was, after all, a married woman and still not short of suitors. But a gown of such beauty and seductive sway would have been lost on any of them, take for example Melina's choice to dress in such muted tones, she did not have the confidence or disposition to pull off such a magnificent garment.
As satisfied as she had been when she first left her room, Eirini turned back to her daughter now dressed in lilac; a critical gaze raked over her, lips pursed in a look on indetermination. "It will have to do, now hurry up, down the stairs and dry your eyes before your father sees you." Her irritation still seething, Eirini parted from the room and headed down the stairs to where Fotios and Melina were waiting.
"Your daughter is finally ready, husband." There was a bite to her tone, indicative of her displeasure about being summoned in such a manner. "Let us not linger any longer, my patience is already at its limit and I find myself in need of other company."
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Eirini grimaced slightly as her name pierced the air, she was a woman well versed with her husbands irritations but seldom was she on the receiving end of his ire. It, in-turn, evoked her own frustrations to rise to the surface and her last shred of composure to break, causing Eirini to grasp her flustered younger daughter by the forearms and berate her for all that had gone wrong that morning.
"You foolish girl, do you hear that? You have angered your father now!" Perhaps she was taking her own irritation, regarding the manner in which Fotios had spoken to her, out on Dafni but their tardiness had been of her own cause –– a tear in her dress from chasing the kitten! Honestly, how old was this girl? Acknowledgment of her wrongdoings may have appeased her mother, yet emotions came to the forefront; a trembling lip and glassy eyes ... tears would not help her cause. "Gods give me strength." She muttered lowly, releasing her grip of Dafni.
At least Melina had been dutiful that morning and her offer to inform Fotios about the delay was met with a firm nod of her head, "thank you, Melina."
Once her middle child had departed the room, Eirini turned her attentions back to Dafni and shook her head in disapproval, "why can you not be more like your sisters? you are not a child anymore, Dafni, such behaviour is incredibly unbecoming of a Leventi." Reaching down she took the material of the gown from the servants hand to examine her attempt to mend the tear. "This won't do, she'll have to change, bring the lilac garment instead.." Her daughters lips parted to protest her distaste of that particular chiton but Eirini quickly silenced her with a raised hand, "Not a word from you."
Turning away for a moment, Eirini tried to compose herself and took the opportunity to ensure that her own appearance was still impeccable. Her golden gown shimmered in the light, the silk caressing her body like a lovers touch and offering certain appreciation to her curves. Fastened above one shoulder, the golden Leventi pin held all in place whilst precious gems set upon golden mounts adorned her ears and wrists –– all starkly contrasting the onyx shine of her tumbling tresses.
Perhaps it was unbecoming on her volition to upstage her daughters in such a way, she was, after all, a married woman and still not short of suitors. But a gown of such beauty and seductive sway would have been lost on any of them, take for example Melina's choice to dress in such muted tones, she did not have the confidence or disposition to pull off such a magnificent garment.
As satisfied as she had been when she first left her room, Eirini turned back to her daughter now dressed in lilac; a critical gaze raked over her, lips pursed in a look on indetermination. "It will have to do, now hurry up, down the stairs and dry your eyes before your father sees you." Her irritation still seething, Eirini parted from the room and headed down the stairs to where Fotios and Melina were waiting.
"Your daughter is finally ready, husband." There was a bite to her tone, indicative of her displeasure about being summoned in such a manner. "Let us not linger any longer, my patience is already at its limit and I find myself in need of other company."
Eirini grimaced slightly as her name pierced the air, she was a woman well versed with her husbands irritations but seldom was she on the receiving end of his ire. It, in-turn, evoked her own frustrations to rise to the surface and her last shred of composure to break, causing Eirini to grasp her flustered younger daughter by the forearms and berate her for all that had gone wrong that morning.
"You foolish girl, do you hear that? You have angered your father now!" Perhaps she was taking her own irritation, regarding the manner in which Fotios had spoken to her, out on Dafni but their tardiness had been of her own cause –– a tear in her dress from chasing the kitten! Honestly, how old was this girl? Acknowledgment of her wrongdoings may have appeased her mother, yet emotions came to the forefront; a trembling lip and glassy eyes ... tears would not help her cause. "Gods give me strength." She muttered lowly, releasing her grip of Dafni.
At least Melina had been dutiful that morning and her offer to inform Fotios about the delay was met with a firm nod of her head, "thank you, Melina."
Once her middle child had departed the room, Eirini turned her attentions back to Dafni and shook her head in disapproval, "why can you not be more like your sisters? you are not a child anymore, Dafni, such behaviour is incredibly unbecoming of a Leventi." Reaching down she took the material of the gown from the servants hand to examine her attempt to mend the tear. "This won't do, she'll have to change, bring the lilac garment instead.." Her daughters lips parted to protest her distaste of that particular chiton but Eirini quickly silenced her with a raised hand, "Not a word from you."
Turning away for a moment, Eirini tried to compose herself and took the opportunity to ensure that her own appearance was still impeccable. Her golden gown shimmered in the light, the silk caressing her body like a lovers touch and offering certain appreciation to her curves. Fastened above one shoulder, the golden Leventi pin held all in place whilst precious gems set upon golden mounts adorned her ears and wrists –– all starkly contrasting the onyx shine of her tumbling tresses.
Perhaps it was unbecoming on her volition to upstage her daughters in such a way, she was, after all, a married woman and still not short of suitors. But a gown of such beauty and seductive sway would have been lost on any of them, take for example Melina's choice to dress in such muted tones, she did not have the confidence or disposition to pull off such a magnificent garment.
As satisfied as she had been when she first left her room, Eirini turned back to her daughter now dressed in lilac; a critical gaze raked over her, lips pursed in a look on indetermination. "It will have to do, now hurry up, down the stairs and dry your eyes before your father sees you." Her irritation still seething, Eirini parted from the room and headed down the stairs to where Fotios and Melina were waiting.
"Your daughter is finally ready, husband." There was a bite to her tone, indicative of her displeasure about being summoned in such a manner. "Let us not linger any longer, my patience is already at its limit and I find myself in need of other company."
At least Agape was spared of her parents’ wrath. How Melina had wished she had been the one to stay with Evangelina, but she could never get herself to voice that wish. If she would see her sister and her cousins there, well, that wasn’t known for certain. However, it was a Mikaelidas’ celebration, so there was a possibility that the entire Leventi family was invited. These thoughts tried to hold Melina towards hopefulness instead of facing her father’s shrewd expression.
It was always a test with her father. One that Melina often failed. Yet, he didn’t say any words on her clothing tonight. Perhaps because the mother picked them out. Still, she didn’t think she looked natural. No one would be aiming to see her anyway. Out of habit, she placed a hand over her necklace, cradling the hazel-colored jewel for strength, as if the person she had purchased it for could transfer such confidence to her for a night. Yet, as always, as it had been for several years, her plea was unanswered.
At least they could both agree on Dafni. That woman took forever to get ready, regardless of the time. While she loved her dear sister, it was because of antics such as these that she met their father’s ire. Yet, Dafni was the one with the beauty that Melina lacked. Instead, she met her father’s gaze, hopeful that she would pass this time, yet internally she knew if she did it was only because of her mother. Not her own efforts, not her own work. Trying not to show her emotions on such a matter, Melina closed her eyes.
Indeed, it was only for women that tardiness was allowed, never for men. Whatever reason her father was upset, it certainly wasn’t for tardiness alone. He liked analyzing people, pitting them up against his impossible standards. Only her cousins had met some of them, while his own daughters barely met one of his standards altogether.
Would she think I looked pretty? Memories swept to a familiar bard, one that had stolen away her time, had threatened to take her heart, and had abandoned her to the Charybdis that was her life. Fulfilling the societal and parental expectations that were had of her. Ultimately leading to her unhappiness. Or perhaps she had tread too close to Scylla and she had been pushed away, the sea monster not seeing her worthy of a meal or a source of temptation.
Regardless, Melina knew that she had to act like the perfect daughter, try to find the confidence that she couldn’t muster save for the rare occasions she caught someone’s eye and put her wants behind her.
-Stand up straight. Shoulders back and hips turned out behind you. Your torso should feel like a bending bow.-
Melina found herself obeying almost impulsively, her spine curling in the perfect arched position as if it could indeed hold an arrow. She met her father’s gaze, a soft sigh escaping her. “I’m not the Leventi anyone will notice, father, but I thank you and mother for your kindness.”
She had noticed the compliment, hidden behind an insult of sorts, yet Melina herself hadn’t been able to believe it. Instead, her sinking heart longed for the festivities to be over, not wanting to take part in a celebration that was just as much about success and failures. Yet, she knew she must, and honestly, she couldn’t blame her cousins.
Or her mother. As always, Eirini looked a vision, one that filled Melina with pride to have such a beautiful mother, yet shame that she herself couldn’t show such beauty. Gazing upon the jewels, the golden gown, and even the perfectly tousled curls, Melina felt like an ugly duckling, and not one that could possibly turn into a swan. Still, she swallowed her feelings as she always did, giving her mother a bright smile.
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At least Agape was spared of her parents’ wrath. How Melina had wished she had been the one to stay with Evangelina, but she could never get herself to voice that wish. If she would see her sister and her cousins there, well, that wasn’t known for certain. However, it was a Mikaelidas’ celebration, so there was a possibility that the entire Leventi family was invited. These thoughts tried to hold Melina towards hopefulness instead of facing her father’s shrewd expression.
It was always a test with her father. One that Melina often failed. Yet, he didn’t say any words on her clothing tonight. Perhaps because the mother picked them out. Still, she didn’t think she looked natural. No one would be aiming to see her anyway. Out of habit, she placed a hand over her necklace, cradling the hazel-colored jewel for strength, as if the person she had purchased it for could transfer such confidence to her for a night. Yet, as always, as it had been for several years, her plea was unanswered.
At least they could both agree on Dafni. That woman took forever to get ready, regardless of the time. While she loved her dear sister, it was because of antics such as these that she met their father’s ire. Yet, Dafni was the one with the beauty that Melina lacked. Instead, she met her father’s gaze, hopeful that she would pass this time, yet internally she knew if she did it was only because of her mother. Not her own efforts, not her own work. Trying not to show her emotions on such a matter, Melina closed her eyes.
Indeed, it was only for women that tardiness was allowed, never for men. Whatever reason her father was upset, it certainly wasn’t for tardiness alone. He liked analyzing people, pitting them up against his impossible standards. Only her cousins had met some of them, while his own daughters barely met one of his standards altogether.
Would she think I looked pretty? Memories swept to a familiar bard, one that had stolen away her time, had threatened to take her heart, and had abandoned her to the Charybdis that was her life. Fulfilling the societal and parental expectations that were had of her. Ultimately leading to her unhappiness. Or perhaps she had tread too close to Scylla and she had been pushed away, the sea monster not seeing her worthy of a meal or a source of temptation.
Regardless, Melina knew that she had to act like the perfect daughter, try to find the confidence that she couldn’t muster save for the rare occasions she caught someone’s eye and put her wants behind her.
-Stand up straight. Shoulders back and hips turned out behind you. Your torso should feel like a bending bow.-
Melina found herself obeying almost impulsively, her spine curling in the perfect arched position as if it could indeed hold an arrow. She met her father’s gaze, a soft sigh escaping her. “I’m not the Leventi anyone will notice, father, but I thank you and mother for your kindness.”
She had noticed the compliment, hidden behind an insult of sorts, yet Melina herself hadn’t been able to believe it. Instead, her sinking heart longed for the festivities to be over, not wanting to take part in a celebration that was just as much about success and failures. Yet, she knew she must, and honestly, she couldn’t blame her cousins.
Or her mother. As always, Eirini looked a vision, one that filled Melina with pride to have such a beautiful mother, yet shame that she herself couldn’t show such beauty. Gazing upon the jewels, the golden gown, and even the perfectly tousled curls, Melina felt like an ugly duckling, and not one that could possibly turn into a swan. Still, she swallowed her feelings as she always did, giving her mother a bright smile.
At least Agape was spared of her parents’ wrath. How Melina had wished she had been the one to stay with Evangelina, but she could never get herself to voice that wish. If she would see her sister and her cousins there, well, that wasn’t known for certain. However, it was a Mikaelidas’ celebration, so there was a possibility that the entire Leventi family was invited. These thoughts tried to hold Melina towards hopefulness instead of facing her father’s shrewd expression.
It was always a test with her father. One that Melina often failed. Yet, he didn’t say any words on her clothing tonight. Perhaps because the mother picked them out. Still, she didn’t think she looked natural. No one would be aiming to see her anyway. Out of habit, she placed a hand over her necklace, cradling the hazel-colored jewel for strength, as if the person she had purchased it for could transfer such confidence to her for a night. Yet, as always, as it had been for several years, her plea was unanswered.
At least they could both agree on Dafni. That woman took forever to get ready, regardless of the time. While she loved her dear sister, it was because of antics such as these that she met their father’s ire. Yet, Dafni was the one with the beauty that Melina lacked. Instead, she met her father’s gaze, hopeful that she would pass this time, yet internally she knew if she did it was only because of her mother. Not her own efforts, not her own work. Trying not to show her emotions on such a matter, Melina closed her eyes.
Indeed, it was only for women that tardiness was allowed, never for men. Whatever reason her father was upset, it certainly wasn’t for tardiness alone. He liked analyzing people, pitting them up against his impossible standards. Only her cousins had met some of them, while his own daughters barely met one of his standards altogether.
Would she think I looked pretty? Memories swept to a familiar bard, one that had stolen away her time, had threatened to take her heart, and had abandoned her to the Charybdis that was her life. Fulfilling the societal and parental expectations that were had of her. Ultimately leading to her unhappiness. Or perhaps she had tread too close to Scylla and she had been pushed away, the sea monster not seeing her worthy of a meal or a source of temptation.
Regardless, Melina knew that she had to act like the perfect daughter, try to find the confidence that she couldn’t muster save for the rare occasions she caught someone’s eye and put her wants behind her.
-Stand up straight. Shoulders back and hips turned out behind you. Your torso should feel like a bending bow.-
Melina found herself obeying almost impulsively, her spine curling in the perfect arched position as if it could indeed hold an arrow. She met her father’s gaze, a soft sigh escaping her. “I’m not the Leventi anyone will notice, father, but I thank you and mother for your kindness.”
She had noticed the compliment, hidden behind an insult of sorts, yet Melina herself hadn’t been able to believe it. Instead, her sinking heart longed for the festivities to be over, not wanting to take part in a celebration that was just as much about success and failures. Yet, she knew she must, and honestly, she couldn’t blame her cousins.
Or her mother. As always, Eirini looked a vision, one that filled Melina with pride to have such a beautiful mother, yet shame that she herself couldn’t show such beauty. Gazing upon the jewels, the golden gown, and even the perfectly tousled curls, Melina felt like an ugly duckling, and not one that could possibly turn into a swan. Still, she swallowed her feelings as she always did, giving her mother a bright smile.
Fotios' lip curled at his middle child's immediate acceptance of inferiority. It was a natural means of life that if you considered yourself to be unworthy of something then you became that which you believed. If you thought yourself to be the ugliest in the room, ugly was how you appeared to others, your lack of confidence ensuring a lack of attraction. As far as he was concerned, Melina had just given up a fight without even having one and the laziness of it irked him. What did she think her cousins did? Woke up in the morning, stumbled from their beds and appeared flawless by default? They and others like them - her own mother for Gods' sake - were the jewels of the Court because of the attention and efforts they would into it.
"Then become one." Fotios stated with a tone that was unforgiving and blunt. If Melina was so certain that she fell low on the list of those who would shine within noble society then she had only two choices. Accept or change. And it was her natural propensity to choose the former that was grating on her father's nerves. He gave her no further advice on how to achieve such a thing for now was not the time and he was not the one to ask for he was irritated that she assumed her appearance - his blood and legacy - to be inferior to anyone.
Speaking of failing to be inferior... it was at that moment that Fotios' wife graced them with her irritable presence and Fotios felt his own ire calm at the sight of her own. If she had been gracious and tranquil over the lateness of the hour, he would have been angered at her easy attitude. The fact that she was as irate as he was was symptomatic of their shared world view. And the reminder of that similarity cooled his frustrations somewhat.
With Dafni finally in toe - and not given a glance on the part of her father - Fotios waved a hand to have the servants opening the doors of the foyer and holding hands out to the two younger of the party as they stepped up and into the carriage waiting immediately before the doorway of their home.
Taking hold of his wife's arm, Fotios pulled her close and brought his lips to her neck, avoiding the powders and paints that she would have used to emphasise her beauty. His arm curled possessively around her waist and he breathed in her scent for a moment, encouraging her temper to cool before they left the house. One could not be efficient in the means of political savvy if one was angry.
Taking her by the arm, Fotios escorted his wife to the carriage, where Dafni was complaining at Melina for sitting on her skirts and then immediately ordered the driver to take them to the Mikaelidas estate. The open top vehicle, at least, would allow he and his wife to cool in the night-time air.
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Fotios' lip curled at his middle child's immediate acceptance of inferiority. It was a natural means of life that if you considered yourself to be unworthy of something then you became that which you believed. If you thought yourself to be the ugliest in the room, ugly was how you appeared to others, your lack of confidence ensuring a lack of attraction. As far as he was concerned, Melina had just given up a fight without even having one and the laziness of it irked him. What did she think her cousins did? Woke up in the morning, stumbled from their beds and appeared flawless by default? They and others like them - her own mother for Gods' sake - were the jewels of the Court because of the attention and efforts they would into it.
"Then become one." Fotios stated with a tone that was unforgiving and blunt. If Melina was so certain that she fell low on the list of those who would shine within noble society then she had only two choices. Accept or change. And it was her natural propensity to choose the former that was grating on her father's nerves. He gave her no further advice on how to achieve such a thing for now was not the time and he was not the one to ask for he was irritated that she assumed her appearance - his blood and legacy - to be inferior to anyone.
Speaking of failing to be inferior... it was at that moment that Fotios' wife graced them with her irritable presence and Fotios felt his own ire calm at the sight of her own. If she had been gracious and tranquil over the lateness of the hour, he would have been angered at her easy attitude. The fact that she was as irate as he was was symptomatic of their shared world view. And the reminder of that similarity cooled his frustrations somewhat.
With Dafni finally in toe - and not given a glance on the part of her father - Fotios waved a hand to have the servants opening the doors of the foyer and holding hands out to the two younger of the party as they stepped up and into the carriage waiting immediately before the doorway of their home.
Taking hold of his wife's arm, Fotios pulled her close and brought his lips to her neck, avoiding the powders and paints that she would have used to emphasise her beauty. His arm curled possessively around her waist and he breathed in her scent for a moment, encouraging her temper to cool before they left the house. One could not be efficient in the means of political savvy if one was angry.
Taking her by the arm, Fotios escorted his wife to the carriage, where Dafni was complaining at Melina for sitting on her skirts and then immediately ordered the driver to take them to the Mikaelidas estate. The open top vehicle, at least, would allow he and his wife to cool in the night-time air.
Fotios' lip curled at his middle child's immediate acceptance of inferiority. It was a natural means of life that if you considered yourself to be unworthy of something then you became that which you believed. If you thought yourself to be the ugliest in the room, ugly was how you appeared to others, your lack of confidence ensuring a lack of attraction. As far as he was concerned, Melina had just given up a fight without even having one and the laziness of it irked him. What did she think her cousins did? Woke up in the morning, stumbled from their beds and appeared flawless by default? They and others like them - her own mother for Gods' sake - were the jewels of the Court because of the attention and efforts they would into it.
"Then become one." Fotios stated with a tone that was unforgiving and blunt. If Melina was so certain that she fell low on the list of those who would shine within noble society then she had only two choices. Accept or change. And it was her natural propensity to choose the former that was grating on her father's nerves. He gave her no further advice on how to achieve such a thing for now was not the time and he was not the one to ask for he was irritated that she assumed her appearance - his blood and legacy - to be inferior to anyone.
Speaking of failing to be inferior... it was at that moment that Fotios' wife graced them with her irritable presence and Fotios felt his own ire calm at the sight of her own. If she had been gracious and tranquil over the lateness of the hour, he would have been angered at her easy attitude. The fact that she was as irate as he was was symptomatic of their shared world view. And the reminder of that similarity cooled his frustrations somewhat.
With Dafni finally in toe - and not given a glance on the part of her father - Fotios waved a hand to have the servants opening the doors of the foyer and holding hands out to the two younger of the party as they stepped up and into the carriage waiting immediately before the doorway of their home.
Taking hold of his wife's arm, Fotios pulled her close and brought his lips to her neck, avoiding the powders and paints that she would have used to emphasise her beauty. His arm curled possessively around her waist and he breathed in her scent for a moment, encouraging her temper to cool before they left the house. One could not be efficient in the means of political savvy if one was angry.
Taking her by the arm, Fotios escorted his wife to the carriage, where Dafni was complaining at Melina for sitting on her skirts and then immediately ordered the driver to take them to the Mikaelidas estate. The open top vehicle, at least, would allow he and his wife to cool in the night-time air.
Gianna’s body hummed with excitement. She had been prohibited from attending her mother’s events prior to her courtly debut, but they were always a topic of conversation for the years between each affair. With her first attendance taking place not long after her official introduction into the social ranks, she had been relegated to simply attending with the rest of the guests. She had since spent her time hinting at her desire to be involved in the preparations for the next event, insinuating that it was never too early for a princess to learn the art of hosting.
After months of passing comments at only the most strategic moments, Elise had invited her youngest behind the scenes and subsequently under her tutelage. While she had been permitted the bare minimum of direct involvement, Gianna had cherished the additional time spent alongside her mother. She had accompanied the woman to wine tastings and the marketplace, offering her opinions regardless of the weight they should hold on the outcome. She had admittedly felt a whisper of pride when she found out that one of her suggested wines had made the menu for the evening.
The princess held onto her personal triumph as she prepared for the occasion. She had risen early to see to some final touches—nothing extraordinary, she knew, but enough to instill a sense of importance. With Elise’s final approval, Gianna had returned to her chambers to bathe and dress. Elpis had chosen a cream chiton and Gianna’s favorite crimson and gold epiblema. With her retainer’s assistance, the young blonde was dressed and her hair was curled and plaited until it was piled high atop her head.
Satisfied that she would be comfortable in the Teleos heat, the princess selected an elaborate diadem consisting of several rubies entangled by golden leaves and vines. Her wrist adornments were far less intricate and took the form of a small stack of golden bangles. A delicate gold chain displayed a tastefully sized ruby that fell just below the hollow of her throat and pulled it all together—at least that was what Elpis told her when suggesting the necklace and Gianna was not inclined to disagree with her retainer’s taste in jewelry.
It felt as though she was in a dream as she swept from her chambers to meet her mother in the courtyard. Consumed by anticipation, she barely registered her mother’s touch as the woman herded her into the carriage, chiding her tardiness all the while. The trip to the Archontikó Mikaelidas from the Paláti was always a short one. Elise prattled on about her expectations for the evening, but Gianna was not listening. She was busy imagining who might be in attendance and what she might expect at such a prestigious event.
Upon their arrival, Elise hurried off to direct some servants in the pouring of wine. The princess did not quite understand how they could be incorrectly performing such a simple task, but the Queen evidently disagreed. Left to her own devices—her brothers and father had already fallen into their own places—Gianna could not help but feel a touch vulnerable as she looked around at the nobles, none of whom she was particularly close to.
As a final resort, she accepted a goblet of wine from a passing servant. She pressed it to her lips, happy to have both a distraction and something with which to calm her nerves. One more sweep of the room signaled the arrival of Georgios and Evelli of Leventi along with their five daughters. Evelli always knew how to make an entrance and she appeared particularly resolute this evening. A shiver worked its way down Gianna’s spine, whether out of fear or admiration Gianna could not be certain, but it was enough to spur her along and back to the comfort of her family.
Approaching her uncle, she conveniently remembered she had neglected to greet the man upon her arrival, a situation she sought to immediately rectify, “Dearest Uncle, I feel you have been far more absent than usual. I miss our rides along the sea, promise me we can do that once more?” Gianna peered up at Irakles through her thick lashes, pleading evident in her doe eyes.
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Gianna’s body hummed with excitement. She had been prohibited from attending her mother’s events prior to her courtly debut, but they were always a topic of conversation for the years between each affair. With her first attendance taking place not long after her official introduction into the social ranks, she had been relegated to simply attending with the rest of the guests. She had since spent her time hinting at her desire to be involved in the preparations for the next event, insinuating that it was never too early for a princess to learn the art of hosting.
After months of passing comments at only the most strategic moments, Elise had invited her youngest behind the scenes and subsequently under her tutelage. While she had been permitted the bare minimum of direct involvement, Gianna had cherished the additional time spent alongside her mother. She had accompanied the woman to wine tastings and the marketplace, offering her opinions regardless of the weight they should hold on the outcome. She had admittedly felt a whisper of pride when she found out that one of her suggested wines had made the menu for the evening.
The princess held onto her personal triumph as she prepared for the occasion. She had risen early to see to some final touches—nothing extraordinary, she knew, but enough to instill a sense of importance. With Elise’s final approval, Gianna had returned to her chambers to bathe and dress. Elpis had chosen a cream chiton and Gianna’s favorite crimson and gold epiblema. With her retainer’s assistance, the young blonde was dressed and her hair was curled and plaited until it was piled high atop her head.
Satisfied that she would be comfortable in the Teleos heat, the princess selected an elaborate diadem consisting of several rubies entangled by golden leaves and vines. Her wrist adornments were far less intricate and took the form of a small stack of golden bangles. A delicate gold chain displayed a tastefully sized ruby that fell just below the hollow of her throat and pulled it all together—at least that was what Elpis told her when suggesting the necklace and Gianna was not inclined to disagree with her retainer’s taste in jewelry.
It felt as though she was in a dream as she swept from her chambers to meet her mother in the courtyard. Consumed by anticipation, she barely registered her mother’s touch as the woman herded her into the carriage, chiding her tardiness all the while. The trip to the Archontikó Mikaelidas from the Paláti was always a short one. Elise prattled on about her expectations for the evening, but Gianna was not listening. She was busy imagining who might be in attendance and what she might expect at such a prestigious event.
Upon their arrival, Elise hurried off to direct some servants in the pouring of wine. The princess did not quite understand how they could be incorrectly performing such a simple task, but the Queen evidently disagreed. Left to her own devices—her brothers and father had already fallen into their own places—Gianna could not help but feel a touch vulnerable as she looked around at the nobles, none of whom she was particularly close to.
As a final resort, she accepted a goblet of wine from a passing servant. She pressed it to her lips, happy to have both a distraction and something with which to calm her nerves. One more sweep of the room signaled the arrival of Georgios and Evelli of Leventi along with their five daughters. Evelli always knew how to make an entrance and she appeared particularly resolute this evening. A shiver worked its way down Gianna’s spine, whether out of fear or admiration Gianna could not be certain, but it was enough to spur her along and back to the comfort of her family.
Approaching her uncle, she conveniently remembered she had neglected to greet the man upon her arrival, a situation she sought to immediately rectify, “Dearest Uncle, I feel you have been far more absent than usual. I miss our rides along the sea, promise me we can do that once more?” Gianna peered up at Irakles through her thick lashes, pleading evident in her doe eyes.
Gianna’s body hummed with excitement. She had been prohibited from attending her mother’s events prior to her courtly debut, but they were always a topic of conversation for the years between each affair. With her first attendance taking place not long after her official introduction into the social ranks, she had been relegated to simply attending with the rest of the guests. She had since spent her time hinting at her desire to be involved in the preparations for the next event, insinuating that it was never too early for a princess to learn the art of hosting.
After months of passing comments at only the most strategic moments, Elise had invited her youngest behind the scenes and subsequently under her tutelage. While she had been permitted the bare minimum of direct involvement, Gianna had cherished the additional time spent alongside her mother. She had accompanied the woman to wine tastings and the marketplace, offering her opinions regardless of the weight they should hold on the outcome. She had admittedly felt a whisper of pride when she found out that one of her suggested wines had made the menu for the evening.
The princess held onto her personal triumph as she prepared for the occasion. She had risen early to see to some final touches—nothing extraordinary, she knew, but enough to instill a sense of importance. With Elise’s final approval, Gianna had returned to her chambers to bathe and dress. Elpis had chosen a cream chiton and Gianna’s favorite crimson and gold epiblema. With her retainer’s assistance, the young blonde was dressed and her hair was curled and plaited until it was piled high atop her head.
Satisfied that she would be comfortable in the Teleos heat, the princess selected an elaborate diadem consisting of several rubies entangled by golden leaves and vines. Her wrist adornments were far less intricate and took the form of a small stack of golden bangles. A delicate gold chain displayed a tastefully sized ruby that fell just below the hollow of her throat and pulled it all together—at least that was what Elpis told her when suggesting the necklace and Gianna was not inclined to disagree with her retainer’s taste in jewelry.
It felt as though she was in a dream as she swept from her chambers to meet her mother in the courtyard. Consumed by anticipation, she barely registered her mother’s touch as the woman herded her into the carriage, chiding her tardiness all the while. The trip to the Archontikó Mikaelidas from the Paláti was always a short one. Elise prattled on about her expectations for the evening, but Gianna was not listening. She was busy imagining who might be in attendance and what she might expect at such a prestigious event.
Upon their arrival, Elise hurried off to direct some servants in the pouring of wine. The princess did not quite understand how they could be incorrectly performing such a simple task, but the Queen evidently disagreed. Left to her own devices—her brothers and father had already fallen into their own places—Gianna could not help but feel a touch vulnerable as she looked around at the nobles, none of whom she was particularly close to.
As a final resort, she accepted a goblet of wine from a passing servant. She pressed it to her lips, happy to have both a distraction and something with which to calm her nerves. One more sweep of the room signaled the arrival of Georgios and Evelli of Leventi along with their five daughters. Evelli always knew how to make an entrance and she appeared particularly resolute this evening. A shiver worked its way down Gianna’s spine, whether out of fear or admiration Gianna could not be certain, but it was enough to spur her along and back to the comfort of her family.
Approaching her uncle, she conveniently remembered she had neglected to greet the man upon her arrival, a situation she sought to immediately rectify, “Dearest Uncle, I feel you have been far more absent than usual. I miss our rides along the sea, promise me we can do that once more?” Gianna peered up at Irakles through her thick lashes, pleading evident in her doe eyes.
There was frustration in the waiting for the damn prince to make up his mind.
Riding towards the palati, Selene was quiet and focused. She was wholly sick of waiting for him to do what they both knew would happen. There was no point in him avoiding it any longer, simply because he seemed to lack interest in her. It wasn’t like there was a better choice for him. She was well-bred, beautiful and had been raised to be a Queen. Perhaps it was because both of their families seemed to be pushing them together that he was so resistant. Or perhaps it was something else. But whatever it was, the blonde was not ready to accept his ignoring her as an ‘no’.
The man preferred to avoid the topic rather than just talk about it.
She didn’t spend time thinking about the kind of king he would be, nor did she really care. The crown was what she wanted, both for herself and her family. And even then, maybe it was less what she wanted and more that she wanted to make her family proud. She let the rest of the girls talk around her, putting together a game plan in her mind.
By the end of the night, she would have an answer.
Violet was her color, and one she chose to represent her Leventi name. The chiton was finely made, with a high neckline and bare shoulders, clasped together with golden roses. It hugged the curves of her body, with a chain of similar roses resting against her hips. The back was low, showing off as much skin as her father would allow. She resisted asking the dressmaker to add a slit up the front, trying to look the part of a princess but still garnish attention. The roses continued along the bottom of the dress, trailing behind her when she walked. Her hair, curled and pinned to the top of her head, was accented with a similar chain of golden flowers, stones of amethyst dotting the design. Her lips were painted a deep red, eye lined with thin black kohl, she wanted to look the part. Wrists covered with bangles of gold and purple, Selene knew she would catch the eye of every man in the room.
But only one mattered.
As they arrived, she stepped down from the carriage, making one final adjustment to her skirts before following her mother and family into the room. She was glad her father was in front, for he would certainly remove his own himation to wrap it around her shoulders. As they entered, her mother leaned in, whispering to her. With a nod, Selene moved through the room, aware that all eyes were on her.
But her eyes were searching out Zacharias.
She spotted him quickly, more determined than before to speak with him. He had avoided her far too often, even though they had both known that it was likely that his father would arrange a marriage between the two of them. And while she had an inkling of why he was doing what he was doing, she wanted there to be an agreement between the two of them. If avoiding difficult conversations was his chosen method as king, Selene was questioning the king of rule he would have.
But did she really care? Not wholly. After all, her family wanted the crown. She wanted the crown for them.
Her path was direct, intercepting him before someone else did. Giving him a deep curtsy, she rose, ”Prince Zacharias, perhaps you would give me a moment of your time in private?” Her question was direct, sick of the dancing around the topic the two of them seemed to do. ”I promise, it will not take long.” Her face was calm, the smile on her face not coy, not hit of ulterior motives. She hoped it was plain that she wished to speak honestly with the man.
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There was frustration in the waiting for the damn prince to make up his mind.
Riding towards the palati, Selene was quiet and focused. She was wholly sick of waiting for him to do what they both knew would happen. There was no point in him avoiding it any longer, simply because he seemed to lack interest in her. It wasn’t like there was a better choice for him. She was well-bred, beautiful and had been raised to be a Queen. Perhaps it was because both of their families seemed to be pushing them together that he was so resistant. Or perhaps it was something else. But whatever it was, the blonde was not ready to accept his ignoring her as an ‘no’.
The man preferred to avoid the topic rather than just talk about it.
She didn’t spend time thinking about the kind of king he would be, nor did she really care. The crown was what she wanted, both for herself and her family. And even then, maybe it was less what she wanted and more that she wanted to make her family proud. She let the rest of the girls talk around her, putting together a game plan in her mind.
By the end of the night, she would have an answer.
Violet was her color, and one she chose to represent her Leventi name. The chiton was finely made, with a high neckline and bare shoulders, clasped together with golden roses. It hugged the curves of her body, with a chain of similar roses resting against her hips. The back was low, showing off as much skin as her father would allow. She resisted asking the dressmaker to add a slit up the front, trying to look the part of a princess but still garnish attention. The roses continued along the bottom of the dress, trailing behind her when she walked. Her hair, curled and pinned to the top of her head, was accented with a similar chain of golden flowers, stones of amethyst dotting the design. Her lips were painted a deep red, eye lined with thin black kohl, she wanted to look the part. Wrists covered with bangles of gold and purple, Selene knew she would catch the eye of every man in the room.
But only one mattered.
As they arrived, she stepped down from the carriage, making one final adjustment to her skirts before following her mother and family into the room. She was glad her father was in front, for he would certainly remove his own himation to wrap it around her shoulders. As they entered, her mother leaned in, whispering to her. With a nod, Selene moved through the room, aware that all eyes were on her.
But her eyes were searching out Zacharias.
She spotted him quickly, more determined than before to speak with him. He had avoided her far too often, even though they had both known that it was likely that his father would arrange a marriage between the two of them. And while she had an inkling of why he was doing what he was doing, she wanted there to be an agreement between the two of them. If avoiding difficult conversations was his chosen method as king, Selene was questioning the king of rule he would have.
But did she really care? Not wholly. After all, her family wanted the crown. She wanted the crown for them.
Her path was direct, intercepting him before someone else did. Giving him a deep curtsy, she rose, ”Prince Zacharias, perhaps you would give me a moment of your time in private?” Her question was direct, sick of the dancing around the topic the two of them seemed to do. ”I promise, it will not take long.” Her face was calm, the smile on her face not coy, not hit of ulterior motives. She hoped it was plain that she wished to speak honestly with the man.
There was frustration in the waiting for the damn prince to make up his mind.
Riding towards the palati, Selene was quiet and focused. She was wholly sick of waiting for him to do what they both knew would happen. There was no point in him avoiding it any longer, simply because he seemed to lack interest in her. It wasn’t like there was a better choice for him. She was well-bred, beautiful and had been raised to be a Queen. Perhaps it was because both of their families seemed to be pushing them together that he was so resistant. Or perhaps it was something else. But whatever it was, the blonde was not ready to accept his ignoring her as an ‘no’.
The man preferred to avoid the topic rather than just talk about it.
She didn’t spend time thinking about the kind of king he would be, nor did she really care. The crown was what she wanted, both for herself and her family. And even then, maybe it was less what she wanted and more that she wanted to make her family proud. She let the rest of the girls talk around her, putting together a game plan in her mind.
By the end of the night, she would have an answer.
Violet was her color, and one she chose to represent her Leventi name. The chiton was finely made, with a high neckline and bare shoulders, clasped together with golden roses. It hugged the curves of her body, with a chain of similar roses resting against her hips. The back was low, showing off as much skin as her father would allow. She resisted asking the dressmaker to add a slit up the front, trying to look the part of a princess but still garnish attention. The roses continued along the bottom of the dress, trailing behind her when she walked. Her hair, curled and pinned to the top of her head, was accented with a similar chain of golden flowers, stones of amethyst dotting the design. Her lips were painted a deep red, eye lined with thin black kohl, she wanted to look the part. Wrists covered with bangles of gold and purple, Selene knew she would catch the eye of every man in the room.
But only one mattered.
As they arrived, she stepped down from the carriage, making one final adjustment to her skirts before following her mother and family into the room. She was glad her father was in front, for he would certainly remove his own himation to wrap it around her shoulders. As they entered, her mother leaned in, whispering to her. With a nod, Selene moved through the room, aware that all eyes were on her.
But her eyes were searching out Zacharias.
She spotted him quickly, more determined than before to speak with him. He had avoided her far too often, even though they had both known that it was likely that his father would arrange a marriage between the two of them. And while she had an inkling of why he was doing what he was doing, she wanted there to be an agreement between the two of them. If avoiding difficult conversations was his chosen method as king, Selene was questioning the king of rule he would have.
But did she really care? Not wholly. After all, her family wanted the crown. She wanted the crown for them.
Her path was direct, intercepting him before someone else did. Giving him a deep curtsy, she rose, ”Prince Zacharias, perhaps you would give me a moment of your time in private?” Her question was direct, sick of the dancing around the topic the two of them seemed to do. ”I promise, it will not take long.” Her face was calm, the smile on her face not coy, not hit of ulterior motives. She hoped it was plain that she wished to speak honestly with the man.