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It only took one glance into the war room to note that King Achilleas was gone and his advisors were left to stand around rather uselessly. Krysto didn't yield the confusion that he felt on his features, instead glancing to the few guards that were still at the room. "Where is the king?" Krysto questioned, his tone not leaving any room at all for someone to hesitate. His hands were settled perfectly behind his back, cupped together to keep them from fidgeting as they usually would when the man felt restless.
And this already made him restless. It was unlike Achilleas to leave anyone waiting, let alone his own advisors. His blue gaze slid to one of the other guards in the room, waiting for a straight answer. Initially, not one really gave him one, but a single flash of irritation flitted across his features and someone finally talked.
"The king left the room rather quickly, sir," one of the men said quietly, as if he were trying to keep the entire world from hearing about a moment of weakness from the King. "He just stormed out of the meeting. A few of the men followed him."
"Good, thank you," Krysto said simply, turning sharply on his heel and starting back down the halls of the Palati. His mind was on whatever could have possibly made Achilleas frustrated enough to leave his own meeting. That didn't look too good for him, which was another issue by itself.
He found himself searching room after room until he finally found the door with a few members of the Kingsguard milling by it. Internally rolling his eyes, Krysto pushed past them, knocking on the door and quietly asking for permission to enter. When Achilleas' voice sounded from the other side of the door, Krysto breathed out slowly and opened it slowly. His displeasure was blatant on his features when he saw the servant girl first, and then Achilleas... with a bloody hand.
"Excuse me, your majesty, but may I talk to you out in the hall?" he asked as calmly as possible, his irritation mounting in his gaze. "Its a matter of gross importance," Krysto stepped aside and motioned out the door, his gaze still on Achilleas' wounded hand. That would have to be bandaged up, likely while Krysto grilled him about what he was doing in a guarded room with his former mistress. Waiting for Achilleas to exit the room, Krysto let his gaze slide to Briseis, though he said absolutely nothing. He didn't need to. They all knew for a fact that whatever this was needed to stop... and Krysto wasn't going to hide his frustration with his friend about it.
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It only took one glance into the war room to note that King Achilleas was gone and his advisors were left to stand around rather uselessly. Krysto didn't yield the confusion that he felt on his features, instead glancing to the few guards that were still at the room. "Where is the king?" Krysto questioned, his tone not leaving any room at all for someone to hesitate. His hands were settled perfectly behind his back, cupped together to keep them from fidgeting as they usually would when the man felt restless.
And this already made him restless. It was unlike Achilleas to leave anyone waiting, let alone his own advisors. His blue gaze slid to one of the other guards in the room, waiting for a straight answer. Initially, not one really gave him one, but a single flash of irritation flitted across his features and someone finally talked.
"The king left the room rather quickly, sir," one of the men said quietly, as if he were trying to keep the entire world from hearing about a moment of weakness from the King. "He just stormed out of the meeting. A few of the men followed him."
"Good, thank you," Krysto said simply, turning sharply on his heel and starting back down the halls of the Palati. His mind was on whatever could have possibly made Achilleas frustrated enough to leave his own meeting. That didn't look too good for him, which was another issue by itself.
He found himself searching room after room until he finally found the door with a few members of the Kingsguard milling by it. Internally rolling his eyes, Krysto pushed past them, knocking on the door and quietly asking for permission to enter. When Achilleas' voice sounded from the other side of the door, Krysto breathed out slowly and opened it slowly. His displeasure was blatant on his features when he saw the servant girl first, and then Achilleas... with a bloody hand.
"Excuse me, your majesty, but may I talk to you out in the hall?" he asked as calmly as possible, his irritation mounting in his gaze. "Its a matter of gross importance," Krysto stepped aside and motioned out the door, his gaze still on Achilleas' wounded hand. That would have to be bandaged up, likely while Krysto grilled him about what he was doing in a guarded room with his former mistress. Waiting for Achilleas to exit the room, Krysto let his gaze slide to Briseis, though he said absolutely nothing. He didn't need to. They all knew for a fact that whatever this was needed to stop... and Krysto wasn't going to hide his frustration with his friend about it.
It only took one glance into the war room to note that King Achilleas was gone and his advisors were left to stand around rather uselessly. Krysto didn't yield the confusion that he felt on his features, instead glancing to the few guards that were still at the room. "Where is the king?" Krysto questioned, his tone not leaving any room at all for someone to hesitate. His hands were settled perfectly behind his back, cupped together to keep them from fidgeting as they usually would when the man felt restless.
And this already made him restless. It was unlike Achilleas to leave anyone waiting, let alone his own advisors. His blue gaze slid to one of the other guards in the room, waiting for a straight answer. Initially, not one really gave him one, but a single flash of irritation flitted across his features and someone finally talked.
"The king left the room rather quickly, sir," one of the men said quietly, as if he were trying to keep the entire world from hearing about a moment of weakness from the King. "He just stormed out of the meeting. A few of the men followed him."
"Good, thank you," Krysto said simply, turning sharply on his heel and starting back down the halls of the Palati. His mind was on whatever could have possibly made Achilleas frustrated enough to leave his own meeting. That didn't look too good for him, which was another issue by itself.
He found himself searching room after room until he finally found the door with a few members of the Kingsguard milling by it. Internally rolling his eyes, Krysto pushed past them, knocking on the door and quietly asking for permission to enter. When Achilleas' voice sounded from the other side of the door, Krysto breathed out slowly and opened it slowly. His displeasure was blatant on his features when he saw the servant girl first, and then Achilleas... with a bloody hand.
"Excuse me, your majesty, but may I talk to you out in the hall?" he asked as calmly as possible, his irritation mounting in his gaze. "Its a matter of gross importance," Krysto stepped aside and motioned out the door, his gaze still on Achilleas' wounded hand. That would have to be bandaged up, likely while Krysto grilled him about what he was doing in a guarded room with his former mistress. Waiting for Achilleas to exit the room, Krysto let his gaze slide to Briseis, though he said absolutely nothing. He didn't need to. They all knew for a fact that whatever this was needed to stop... and Krysto wasn't going to hide his frustration with his friend about it.
For a moment, Achilleas’ had glared at Krysto, reacting to the annoyance he read on the other’s face and the presumptuous manner in which the man requested his presence elsewhere. But it dimmed quickly, the King glancing toward Briseis almost guiltily before he jumped on the opportunity to extract himself from the mess of his own making.
He was glad it was his friend who had come to find him, but at the same time, Krysto knew enough to draw conjecture about what he had walked in on, and that Achilleas didn’t know how to explain. His gaze lingered on Briseis, his expression unguarded for once, and he looked lost. She had been some form of sanctuary for so long, it was a hard thing to accept that she was no longer, at a time when he was truly in need of one.
The King’s lips parted as if he might be about to address the servant girl, but he seemed to think better of whatever he had been about to say, and closed his mouth again, swallowing. He moved abruptly then, long strides taking his past the Captain and into the hallway, where he barely slowed to pick a direction. Ignoring the guards who kept deceptively blank expressions on their faces at the reemergence of their King, he kept his bloodied hand folded within the other behind his back, squeezing a little and letting the pain of it ground him. And he didn’t have to look at his friend as the man fell into step beside him to know that Krysto would be frowning at him.
“I know” he said preemptively, words clipped and uttered lowly, so they would reach no other. He was trying to head off the questions, or perhaps the judgement he anticipated, and Achilleas on the defensive usually resulted in him being curt and snippy.
And he did know. What had he been thinking? It had been chance that that seen him walk into the room where Briseis was, but he should have known better, should have had more control of himself than to let happen what had just happened. He should have turned around and walked right out again.
Blinking, he considered that Krysto didn’t necessarily know. His friend might suspect...or perhaps he was being paranoid and there really was something that Krysto had called him away for. If there were something, a distraction would be welcome and would give him something else to think about other than the churning mess of unresolved..everything that had crept up on him so unexpectedly. He felt out of sorts and stripped of his usual composure, and it was hard to function feeling like all his nerves were rubbed raw. He knew he needed to get a hold of himself and go back to attend to those things he'd walked out on, but making himself do so was hard.
Unless Krysto had something he could throw himself into. He clung to that thought like it was a lifeline, stopping suddenly and turning to face the Captain, eyes searching the other’s face almost hopefully.
“What is it? Was there something?”
Something other than an interrogation into his own failings, because Achilleas wasn't at all certain he knew how to defend against such right now.
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For a moment, Achilleas’ had glared at Krysto, reacting to the annoyance he read on the other’s face and the presumptuous manner in which the man requested his presence elsewhere. But it dimmed quickly, the King glancing toward Briseis almost guiltily before he jumped on the opportunity to extract himself from the mess of his own making.
He was glad it was his friend who had come to find him, but at the same time, Krysto knew enough to draw conjecture about what he had walked in on, and that Achilleas didn’t know how to explain. His gaze lingered on Briseis, his expression unguarded for once, and he looked lost. She had been some form of sanctuary for so long, it was a hard thing to accept that she was no longer, at a time when he was truly in need of one.
The King’s lips parted as if he might be about to address the servant girl, but he seemed to think better of whatever he had been about to say, and closed his mouth again, swallowing. He moved abruptly then, long strides taking his past the Captain and into the hallway, where he barely slowed to pick a direction. Ignoring the guards who kept deceptively blank expressions on their faces at the reemergence of their King, he kept his bloodied hand folded within the other behind his back, squeezing a little and letting the pain of it ground him. And he didn’t have to look at his friend as the man fell into step beside him to know that Krysto would be frowning at him.
“I know” he said preemptively, words clipped and uttered lowly, so they would reach no other. He was trying to head off the questions, or perhaps the judgement he anticipated, and Achilleas on the defensive usually resulted in him being curt and snippy.
And he did know. What had he been thinking? It had been chance that that seen him walk into the room where Briseis was, but he should have known better, should have had more control of himself than to let happen what had just happened. He should have turned around and walked right out again.
Blinking, he considered that Krysto didn’t necessarily know. His friend might suspect...or perhaps he was being paranoid and there really was something that Krysto had called him away for. If there were something, a distraction would be welcome and would give him something else to think about other than the churning mess of unresolved..everything that had crept up on him so unexpectedly. He felt out of sorts and stripped of his usual composure, and it was hard to function feeling like all his nerves were rubbed raw. He knew he needed to get a hold of himself and go back to attend to those things he'd walked out on, but making himself do so was hard.
Unless Krysto had something he could throw himself into. He clung to that thought like it was a lifeline, stopping suddenly and turning to face the Captain, eyes searching the other’s face almost hopefully.
“What is it? Was there something?”
Something other than an interrogation into his own failings, because Achilleas wasn't at all certain he knew how to defend against such right now.
For a moment, Achilleas’ had glared at Krysto, reacting to the annoyance he read on the other’s face and the presumptuous manner in which the man requested his presence elsewhere. But it dimmed quickly, the King glancing toward Briseis almost guiltily before he jumped on the opportunity to extract himself from the mess of his own making.
He was glad it was his friend who had come to find him, but at the same time, Krysto knew enough to draw conjecture about what he had walked in on, and that Achilleas didn’t know how to explain. His gaze lingered on Briseis, his expression unguarded for once, and he looked lost. She had been some form of sanctuary for so long, it was a hard thing to accept that she was no longer, at a time when he was truly in need of one.
The King’s lips parted as if he might be about to address the servant girl, but he seemed to think better of whatever he had been about to say, and closed his mouth again, swallowing. He moved abruptly then, long strides taking his past the Captain and into the hallway, where he barely slowed to pick a direction. Ignoring the guards who kept deceptively blank expressions on their faces at the reemergence of their King, he kept his bloodied hand folded within the other behind his back, squeezing a little and letting the pain of it ground him. And he didn’t have to look at his friend as the man fell into step beside him to know that Krysto would be frowning at him.
“I know” he said preemptively, words clipped and uttered lowly, so they would reach no other. He was trying to head off the questions, or perhaps the judgement he anticipated, and Achilleas on the defensive usually resulted in him being curt and snippy.
And he did know. What had he been thinking? It had been chance that that seen him walk into the room where Briseis was, but he should have known better, should have had more control of himself than to let happen what had just happened. He should have turned around and walked right out again.
Blinking, he considered that Krysto didn’t necessarily know. His friend might suspect...or perhaps he was being paranoid and there really was something that Krysto had called him away for. If there were something, a distraction would be welcome and would give him something else to think about other than the churning mess of unresolved..everything that had crept up on him so unexpectedly. He felt out of sorts and stripped of his usual composure, and it was hard to function feeling like all his nerves were rubbed raw. He knew he needed to get a hold of himself and go back to attend to those things he'd walked out on, but making himself do so was hard.
Unless Krysto had something he could throw himself into. He clung to that thought like it was a lifeline, stopping suddenly and turning to face the Captain, eyes searching the other’s face almost hopefully.
“What is it? Was there something?”
Something other than an interrogation into his own failings, because Achilleas wasn't at all certain he knew how to defend against such right now.
Krysto's mind was swirling with questions. What exactly had Achilleas been doing in that room with the servant girl? He knew for a fact that the King had been making a concerted effort to avoid the woman. That had been something that Krysto was entirely aware of, especially now that the King had married his long-time betrothed. Achilleas was going to make big mistakes if he wasn't careful.
Luckily, Krysto wasn't going to let the pattern of budding behavior continue if he could help it. Following behind Achilleas at first, Krysto observed the man's back and the way that he tried to hide his bloodied hand cupped in the palm of the other. What had he struck to do so much damage to his own body? Clearly, he understood the weight of his own actions, which was an exceedingly good sign.
Then he picked up his pace so that he could walk beside Achilleas. At first, the man said absolutely nothing, hearing Achilleas mention that he knew. Krysto let his gaze slide to the king, and he couldn't help himself. "If you know, then why were you in there with her?" he asked in a hushed whisper, his tone taking on that innocently curious tone that it did when he was trying to make a point. "Don't be an idiot, your majesty. Why did you leave your meeting? Everyone seemed confused back there, and then I find you with the one person you're supposed to be avoiding at all costs," Krysto chastised him quietly, his brows furrowing.
He didn't know if his friend was actually struggling or if he was looking to be self destructive. Because it was looking like the latter. He nudge Achilleas' arm then, grumbling under his breath, "And then your hand. Did she hurt you?" he whispered at his friend, his expression one of concern. If the servant girl was going to get violent, Krysto could make her shape up, but she was so demure that it was hard to imagine her lashing out like that.
When they stopped, Krysto reached out and put his hand on Achilleas' back, glancing from side to side and forcing them to move again in search of another room to occupy that hopefully wouldn't have guards standing outside of it. "Nothing is wrong except that you're acting just plain weird," Krysto commented. Not that that was abnormal, actually. They both had their moments.
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Krysto's mind was swirling with questions. What exactly had Achilleas been doing in that room with the servant girl? He knew for a fact that the King had been making a concerted effort to avoid the woman. That had been something that Krysto was entirely aware of, especially now that the King had married his long-time betrothed. Achilleas was going to make big mistakes if he wasn't careful.
Luckily, Krysto wasn't going to let the pattern of budding behavior continue if he could help it. Following behind Achilleas at first, Krysto observed the man's back and the way that he tried to hide his bloodied hand cupped in the palm of the other. What had he struck to do so much damage to his own body? Clearly, he understood the weight of his own actions, which was an exceedingly good sign.
Then he picked up his pace so that he could walk beside Achilleas. At first, the man said absolutely nothing, hearing Achilleas mention that he knew. Krysto let his gaze slide to the king, and he couldn't help himself. "If you know, then why were you in there with her?" he asked in a hushed whisper, his tone taking on that innocently curious tone that it did when he was trying to make a point. "Don't be an idiot, your majesty. Why did you leave your meeting? Everyone seemed confused back there, and then I find you with the one person you're supposed to be avoiding at all costs," Krysto chastised him quietly, his brows furrowing.
He didn't know if his friend was actually struggling or if he was looking to be self destructive. Because it was looking like the latter. He nudge Achilleas' arm then, grumbling under his breath, "And then your hand. Did she hurt you?" he whispered at his friend, his expression one of concern. If the servant girl was going to get violent, Krysto could make her shape up, but she was so demure that it was hard to imagine her lashing out like that.
When they stopped, Krysto reached out and put his hand on Achilleas' back, glancing from side to side and forcing them to move again in search of another room to occupy that hopefully wouldn't have guards standing outside of it. "Nothing is wrong except that you're acting just plain weird," Krysto commented. Not that that was abnormal, actually. They both had their moments.
Krysto's mind was swirling with questions. What exactly had Achilleas been doing in that room with the servant girl? He knew for a fact that the King had been making a concerted effort to avoid the woman. That had been something that Krysto was entirely aware of, especially now that the King had married his long-time betrothed. Achilleas was going to make big mistakes if he wasn't careful.
Luckily, Krysto wasn't going to let the pattern of budding behavior continue if he could help it. Following behind Achilleas at first, Krysto observed the man's back and the way that he tried to hide his bloodied hand cupped in the palm of the other. What had he struck to do so much damage to his own body? Clearly, he understood the weight of his own actions, which was an exceedingly good sign.
Then he picked up his pace so that he could walk beside Achilleas. At first, the man said absolutely nothing, hearing Achilleas mention that he knew. Krysto let his gaze slide to the king, and he couldn't help himself. "If you know, then why were you in there with her?" he asked in a hushed whisper, his tone taking on that innocently curious tone that it did when he was trying to make a point. "Don't be an idiot, your majesty. Why did you leave your meeting? Everyone seemed confused back there, and then I find you with the one person you're supposed to be avoiding at all costs," Krysto chastised him quietly, his brows furrowing.
He didn't know if his friend was actually struggling or if he was looking to be self destructive. Because it was looking like the latter. He nudge Achilleas' arm then, grumbling under his breath, "And then your hand. Did she hurt you?" he whispered at his friend, his expression one of concern. If the servant girl was going to get violent, Krysto could make her shape up, but she was so demure that it was hard to imagine her lashing out like that.
When they stopped, Krysto reached out and put his hand on Achilleas' back, glancing from side to side and forcing them to move again in search of another room to occupy that hopefully wouldn't have guards standing outside of it. "Nothing is wrong except that you're acting just plain weird," Krysto commented. Not that that was abnormal, actually. They both had their moments.
Achilleas grimaced at the too light tone to his friend’s voice. He knew that tone, and it generally meant that Krysto was going to be like a dog with a bone until he got the answers he wanted. Answers which he did not have.
Quick as a knife, the King’s eyes had cut towards the other man, the “I didn’t know she was in there!” hissed out from between his teeth even before the Captain had called him an idiot. Achilleas leveled a glare at him but found he couldn’t quite hold the other man’s gaze and so looked resolutely forwards again, jaw set and a frown carved across his brow. He didn’t want to hear that he’d left a room full of confused advisors behind him, didn't want to think about how they would be speculating as to why their new King had made such an abrupt exit and certainly didn’t want to explain that sudden fracture in his control to Krysto.
It did not reflect well upon him and was an unfamiliar occurrence that left him floundering. The drawback of being so precise and measured for the majority of the time was that when he stumbled or erred in some way, it threw Achilleas off-kilter, and he did not always recover smoothly, as he had well proven this day. Shaking his head, he wasn’t sure if it was at himself or his friend but forgot anyway when Krysto jostled him and asked yet another question.
“Don’t be absurd” Achilleas snapped, blinking at how ridiculous the notion of Briseis hurting him was. She stood about as high as his shoulders and half as narrow. He thought he could wrap his hands around the span of her waist. It was almost insulting for Krysto to even have considered her being able to harm him.
He realised after he’d spoken that it had been louder than his friend’s muted inquiry, and glancing at the royal guards who had remained outside the other room, seemingly thinking the King safe enough with the new Captain of his guard. They had both turned to observe but whipped their heads around at the scorching glare the King sent their way, and Achilleas allowed Krysto to maneuver him into a, blessedly empty, sun lounge, turning to look at the other man as soon as they were within, his jaw working as he looked to refute the accusation of his behaving oddly. It was hard.
“I just...needed a moment. Away. Is that so inconceivable? I don’t..” Going to push his hand through his hair as he did when he was agitated gave Achilleas a sharp reminder of that ill-advised punch, a shooting pain ripping from his little finger up into his wrist and drawing a hiss from between his teeth. The sight of his bloodied hand did not do much to support his efforts to downplay his behaviour, and he shoved it behind his back again because Krysto was looking at him in that way he did when he was about to lecture him. The king took a deep breath through his nose and tried to head it off before his friend could get started.
“I am King. It shouldn’t matter if I delay a meeting, for whatever reason I see fit”
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Achilleas grimaced at the too light tone to his friend’s voice. He knew that tone, and it generally meant that Krysto was going to be like a dog with a bone until he got the answers he wanted. Answers which he did not have.
Quick as a knife, the King’s eyes had cut towards the other man, the “I didn’t know she was in there!” hissed out from between his teeth even before the Captain had called him an idiot. Achilleas leveled a glare at him but found he couldn’t quite hold the other man’s gaze and so looked resolutely forwards again, jaw set and a frown carved across his brow. He didn’t want to hear that he’d left a room full of confused advisors behind him, didn't want to think about how they would be speculating as to why their new King had made such an abrupt exit and certainly didn’t want to explain that sudden fracture in his control to Krysto.
It did not reflect well upon him and was an unfamiliar occurrence that left him floundering. The drawback of being so precise and measured for the majority of the time was that when he stumbled or erred in some way, it threw Achilleas off-kilter, and he did not always recover smoothly, as he had well proven this day. Shaking his head, he wasn’t sure if it was at himself or his friend but forgot anyway when Krysto jostled him and asked yet another question.
“Don’t be absurd” Achilleas snapped, blinking at how ridiculous the notion of Briseis hurting him was. She stood about as high as his shoulders and half as narrow. He thought he could wrap his hands around the span of her waist. It was almost insulting for Krysto to even have considered her being able to harm him.
He realised after he’d spoken that it had been louder than his friend’s muted inquiry, and glancing at the royal guards who had remained outside the other room, seemingly thinking the King safe enough with the new Captain of his guard. They had both turned to observe but whipped their heads around at the scorching glare the King sent their way, and Achilleas allowed Krysto to maneuver him into a, blessedly empty, sun lounge, turning to look at the other man as soon as they were within, his jaw working as he looked to refute the accusation of his behaving oddly. It was hard.
“I just...needed a moment. Away. Is that so inconceivable? I don’t..” Going to push his hand through his hair as he did when he was agitated gave Achilleas a sharp reminder of that ill-advised punch, a shooting pain ripping from his little finger up into his wrist and drawing a hiss from between his teeth. The sight of his bloodied hand did not do much to support his efforts to downplay his behaviour, and he shoved it behind his back again because Krysto was looking at him in that way he did when he was about to lecture him. The king took a deep breath through his nose and tried to head it off before his friend could get started.
“I am King. It shouldn’t matter if I delay a meeting, for whatever reason I see fit”
Achilleas grimaced at the too light tone to his friend’s voice. He knew that tone, and it generally meant that Krysto was going to be like a dog with a bone until he got the answers he wanted. Answers which he did not have.
Quick as a knife, the King’s eyes had cut towards the other man, the “I didn’t know she was in there!” hissed out from between his teeth even before the Captain had called him an idiot. Achilleas leveled a glare at him but found he couldn’t quite hold the other man’s gaze and so looked resolutely forwards again, jaw set and a frown carved across his brow. He didn’t want to hear that he’d left a room full of confused advisors behind him, didn't want to think about how they would be speculating as to why their new King had made such an abrupt exit and certainly didn’t want to explain that sudden fracture in his control to Krysto.
It did not reflect well upon him and was an unfamiliar occurrence that left him floundering. The drawback of being so precise and measured for the majority of the time was that when he stumbled or erred in some way, it threw Achilleas off-kilter, and he did not always recover smoothly, as he had well proven this day. Shaking his head, he wasn’t sure if it was at himself or his friend but forgot anyway when Krysto jostled him and asked yet another question.
“Don’t be absurd” Achilleas snapped, blinking at how ridiculous the notion of Briseis hurting him was. She stood about as high as his shoulders and half as narrow. He thought he could wrap his hands around the span of her waist. It was almost insulting for Krysto to even have considered her being able to harm him.
He realised after he’d spoken that it had been louder than his friend’s muted inquiry, and glancing at the royal guards who had remained outside the other room, seemingly thinking the King safe enough with the new Captain of his guard. They had both turned to observe but whipped their heads around at the scorching glare the King sent their way, and Achilleas allowed Krysto to maneuver him into a, blessedly empty, sun lounge, turning to look at the other man as soon as they were within, his jaw working as he looked to refute the accusation of his behaving oddly. It was hard.
“I just...needed a moment. Away. Is that so inconceivable? I don’t..” Going to push his hand through his hair as he did when he was agitated gave Achilleas a sharp reminder of that ill-advised punch, a shooting pain ripping from his little finger up into his wrist and drawing a hiss from between his teeth. The sight of his bloodied hand did not do much to support his efforts to downplay his behaviour, and he shoved it behind his back again because Krysto was looking at him in that way he did when he was about to lecture him. The king took a deep breath through his nose and tried to head it off before his friend could get started.
“I am King. It shouldn’t matter if I delay a meeting, for whatever reason I see fit”
If they were on more of an even playing field as they had been once upon a time, Krysto would have knocked Achilleas upside the head. However, with the way that the man was acting, it was hard to gauge whether that would only set him on a path to the gallows of it Achilleas would just remain pissed but ready to listen. Stalking into the room that Krysto had guided the both of them into, he closed the door firmly and mulled over the man's words as he would a field raging with battle.
This was a battle in and of itself. This was a position that Achilleas hadn't been prepared for and a wedding that had gone horribly. Not to mention the little servant girl that he still seemed infatuated by even though he was supposedly in love with Theodora. The fact that Achilleas had seemed to find himself in a love triangle of sorts was almost comical and so unlike the man that Krysto found it very easy to comment on the fact. "I'm going to be as absurd as you are, your majesty. The only thing more absurd than the notion of that tiny woman hurting you is the fact that you are allowing yourself to think with your cock rather than your head. This is the weirdest thing you've ever done, not counting--" he cut himself off, rolling his eyes. "Gods above you've always been a lovesick puppy and I've never noticed."
The man actually brought both of his hands up to his face, rubbing at them violently. "I'm going to have to fire the guards that saw you or something because they're just as catty as women," he was muttering under his breath, "They may as well be women."
Then his blue gaze flicked up from his out loud monologue and Krysto actually let his composure slip. With just the two of them, he was less concerned with putting on airs. Both of the man's fingertips came to touch his brow before he slowly stepped into a position that pointed both hands toward the door. At first, he was silent, clearly coming up with the proper words to get his point across to his best friend.
"Kings do not get to take moments, Achilleas. Kings are being judged with each movement that they make and with every direction that they look. Your moment to yourself is the moment you wake up and the moment you go to sleep and don't you dare tell me that you are king so you get to do whatever you want. You don't. This was your first official meeting and you're botching it to go traipsing about with a servant girl who is not your wife. You are going to make yourself look unfit to the people who are trying to help you. You may not want the crown, but there are far worse people than yourself that could hold it in their hands," it was said all in a single breath, his voice turning higher the more he spoke until he may as well have been screeching, though he did his best to ensure that no one heard them outside of this room.
"You are a sensible man. Where have your sensibilities gone, Achilleas?" Krysto asked lower as he trailed across the stone to his friend. He made a motion to let him look at his hand. "Especially when it comes to your temper. We're about to go to war and this looks pitiful," he jabbed irritably, ever the voice of reason and no bullshit that he had always been. Thankfully, he knew the line of tolerance with Achilleas and knew that the man preferred him to be honest even if it was harsh in the end.
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If they were on more of an even playing field as they had been once upon a time, Krysto would have knocked Achilleas upside the head. However, with the way that the man was acting, it was hard to gauge whether that would only set him on a path to the gallows of it Achilleas would just remain pissed but ready to listen. Stalking into the room that Krysto had guided the both of them into, he closed the door firmly and mulled over the man's words as he would a field raging with battle.
This was a battle in and of itself. This was a position that Achilleas hadn't been prepared for and a wedding that had gone horribly. Not to mention the little servant girl that he still seemed infatuated by even though he was supposedly in love with Theodora. The fact that Achilleas had seemed to find himself in a love triangle of sorts was almost comical and so unlike the man that Krysto found it very easy to comment on the fact. "I'm going to be as absurd as you are, your majesty. The only thing more absurd than the notion of that tiny woman hurting you is the fact that you are allowing yourself to think with your cock rather than your head. This is the weirdest thing you've ever done, not counting--" he cut himself off, rolling his eyes. "Gods above you've always been a lovesick puppy and I've never noticed."
The man actually brought both of his hands up to his face, rubbing at them violently. "I'm going to have to fire the guards that saw you or something because they're just as catty as women," he was muttering under his breath, "They may as well be women."
Then his blue gaze flicked up from his out loud monologue and Krysto actually let his composure slip. With just the two of them, he was less concerned with putting on airs. Both of the man's fingertips came to touch his brow before he slowly stepped into a position that pointed both hands toward the door. At first, he was silent, clearly coming up with the proper words to get his point across to his best friend.
"Kings do not get to take moments, Achilleas. Kings are being judged with each movement that they make and with every direction that they look. Your moment to yourself is the moment you wake up and the moment you go to sleep and don't you dare tell me that you are king so you get to do whatever you want. You don't. This was your first official meeting and you're botching it to go traipsing about with a servant girl who is not your wife. You are going to make yourself look unfit to the people who are trying to help you. You may not want the crown, but there are far worse people than yourself that could hold it in their hands," it was said all in a single breath, his voice turning higher the more he spoke until he may as well have been screeching, though he did his best to ensure that no one heard them outside of this room.
"You are a sensible man. Where have your sensibilities gone, Achilleas?" Krysto asked lower as he trailed across the stone to his friend. He made a motion to let him look at his hand. "Especially when it comes to your temper. We're about to go to war and this looks pitiful," he jabbed irritably, ever the voice of reason and no bullshit that he had always been. Thankfully, he knew the line of tolerance with Achilleas and knew that the man preferred him to be honest even if it was harsh in the end.
If they were on more of an even playing field as they had been once upon a time, Krysto would have knocked Achilleas upside the head. However, with the way that the man was acting, it was hard to gauge whether that would only set him on a path to the gallows of it Achilleas would just remain pissed but ready to listen. Stalking into the room that Krysto had guided the both of them into, he closed the door firmly and mulled over the man's words as he would a field raging with battle.
This was a battle in and of itself. This was a position that Achilleas hadn't been prepared for and a wedding that had gone horribly. Not to mention the little servant girl that he still seemed infatuated by even though he was supposedly in love with Theodora. The fact that Achilleas had seemed to find himself in a love triangle of sorts was almost comical and so unlike the man that Krysto found it very easy to comment on the fact. "I'm going to be as absurd as you are, your majesty. The only thing more absurd than the notion of that tiny woman hurting you is the fact that you are allowing yourself to think with your cock rather than your head. This is the weirdest thing you've ever done, not counting--" he cut himself off, rolling his eyes. "Gods above you've always been a lovesick puppy and I've never noticed."
The man actually brought both of his hands up to his face, rubbing at them violently. "I'm going to have to fire the guards that saw you or something because they're just as catty as women," he was muttering under his breath, "They may as well be women."
Then his blue gaze flicked up from his out loud monologue and Krysto actually let his composure slip. With just the two of them, he was less concerned with putting on airs. Both of the man's fingertips came to touch his brow before he slowly stepped into a position that pointed both hands toward the door. At first, he was silent, clearly coming up with the proper words to get his point across to his best friend.
"Kings do not get to take moments, Achilleas. Kings are being judged with each movement that they make and with every direction that they look. Your moment to yourself is the moment you wake up and the moment you go to sleep and don't you dare tell me that you are king so you get to do whatever you want. You don't. This was your first official meeting and you're botching it to go traipsing about with a servant girl who is not your wife. You are going to make yourself look unfit to the people who are trying to help you. You may not want the crown, but there are far worse people than yourself that could hold it in their hands," it was said all in a single breath, his voice turning higher the more he spoke until he may as well have been screeching, though he did his best to ensure that no one heard them outside of this room.
"You are a sensible man. Where have your sensibilities gone, Achilleas?" Krysto asked lower as he trailed across the stone to his friend. He made a motion to let him look at his hand. "Especially when it comes to your temper. We're about to go to war and this looks pitiful," he jabbed irritably, ever the voice of reason and no bullshit that he had always been. Thankfully, he knew the line of tolerance with Achilleas and knew that the man preferred him to be honest even if it was harsh in the end.
If there was something kind of ominous about the door clicking shut and being enclosed in a room with a man he knew would not mince his words, then Achilleas made no show of acknowledging it. Rather he rounded to face Krysto, jaw set in that stubborn jut that his friend would know oh too well. His expression tightened when his friend began to speak, but the King made no move to interrupt, the high spots of colour cresting on his cheeks enough of an indicator as to what he thought of the man’s words. At least until it seemed as if the Captain was about to reference something that he had no wish to rake up again, and blue eyes blazed warningly.
But Krysto had already cut himself off, and Achilleas wasn’t too keen on the conclusion the other seemed to be drawing. Lovesick? That was a term applied to swooning maids and sappy teenagers. He resented it.
“I am no such thing…”
But either the Captain either did not hear, or chose to ignore him, and Achilleas was forced to strain to hear what was being mumbled from behind the screen of the man’s hands. He looked more than a little uncomfortable as he began to follow. He, who had spent so long avoiding being the source of gossip, had just played well enough into the hands of those who’d create stories out of what had happened. He shook his head, that same frustration at himself making itself evident once more “Nothing even happened” he protested, though he was not a good liar and Krysto of all people was not one he would easily deceive. Gods he was a fool.
With no small amount effort, he made himself look at his friend as the man continued, laying out what Achilleas knew to be the truth, and he could only listen, eyes burning a hole in the wall just to left of where Krysto stood to deliver his little monologue until they flickered back to settle on the other’s face as he paused, words left heavy in the air between them.
“I already told you I didn’t know she was in there” the Mikaelidas man offered through gritted teeth, but the fire had gone, and he was left with the sickening feeling that he always got when he had erred from his own perception of perfection. And he’d done it quite well this time. But what choice had he? Stay in that room in front of all those people with expectations of their new King and fall to pieces? He had panicked in the face of that sudden surge of emotion- emotion that he had been so very good at keeping off his face and out of his thoughts until it had snuck up and punched him in the gut without warning. He might have raised eyebrows by leaving so abruptly, but it was better than the alternative. Let him be thought tempestuous rather than weak.
Briseis was….something else and he couldn’t think about that now, not when Krysto was suddenly right in front of him and Achilleas was holding out his injured hand and wincing when the man prodded it none too gently.
“...I don’t know,” he said, taking a sharp breath in as his fingers twinged. He supposed he deserved that at least. “ I just...It doesn’t matter. It was stupid. I can see that.” Still, pitiful rankled a little, and he fell silent as Krysto examined a hand already swelling up, an unwanted reminder of loss of control in a man who so valued it.
“I haven’t been sleeping,” he said, repeating words he had said to his friend only a couple of days earlier when they had sat across from one another discussing the man’s appointment to the King’s Guard. “I...it probably hasn’t helped and then they were talking about my father and I just couldn’t sit there. Getting a breather for a moment is impossible in this fucking place” Probably not entirely truthful, in more ordinary circumstances, but there was little ordinary in the chaos that beset the Taengean royal household in recent weeks.
Achilleas didn’t go into the little blurting out of what had gone wrong to Briseis. That merited further consideration but not now, and he was not going to speak to Krysto of it, not when the man was already baffled by his seemingly irrational behaviour. “I can go back,” he said instead, sounding resigned.“Just...patch that up and I can go back and reassure everyone I have not gone mad.”
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If there was something kind of ominous about the door clicking shut and being enclosed in a room with a man he knew would not mince his words, then Achilleas made no show of acknowledging it. Rather he rounded to face Krysto, jaw set in that stubborn jut that his friend would know oh too well. His expression tightened when his friend began to speak, but the King made no move to interrupt, the high spots of colour cresting on his cheeks enough of an indicator as to what he thought of the man’s words. At least until it seemed as if the Captain was about to reference something that he had no wish to rake up again, and blue eyes blazed warningly.
But Krysto had already cut himself off, and Achilleas wasn’t too keen on the conclusion the other seemed to be drawing. Lovesick? That was a term applied to swooning maids and sappy teenagers. He resented it.
“I am no such thing…”
But either the Captain either did not hear, or chose to ignore him, and Achilleas was forced to strain to hear what was being mumbled from behind the screen of the man’s hands. He looked more than a little uncomfortable as he began to follow. He, who had spent so long avoiding being the source of gossip, had just played well enough into the hands of those who’d create stories out of what had happened. He shook his head, that same frustration at himself making itself evident once more “Nothing even happened” he protested, though he was not a good liar and Krysto of all people was not one he would easily deceive. Gods he was a fool.
With no small amount effort, he made himself look at his friend as the man continued, laying out what Achilleas knew to be the truth, and he could only listen, eyes burning a hole in the wall just to left of where Krysto stood to deliver his little monologue until they flickered back to settle on the other’s face as he paused, words left heavy in the air between them.
“I already told you I didn’t know she was in there” the Mikaelidas man offered through gritted teeth, but the fire had gone, and he was left with the sickening feeling that he always got when he had erred from his own perception of perfection. And he’d done it quite well this time. But what choice had he? Stay in that room in front of all those people with expectations of their new King and fall to pieces? He had panicked in the face of that sudden surge of emotion- emotion that he had been so very good at keeping off his face and out of his thoughts until it had snuck up and punched him in the gut without warning. He might have raised eyebrows by leaving so abruptly, but it was better than the alternative. Let him be thought tempestuous rather than weak.
Briseis was….something else and he couldn’t think about that now, not when Krysto was suddenly right in front of him and Achilleas was holding out his injured hand and wincing when the man prodded it none too gently.
“...I don’t know,” he said, taking a sharp breath in as his fingers twinged. He supposed he deserved that at least. “ I just...It doesn’t matter. It was stupid. I can see that.” Still, pitiful rankled a little, and he fell silent as Krysto examined a hand already swelling up, an unwanted reminder of loss of control in a man who so valued it.
“I haven’t been sleeping,” he said, repeating words he had said to his friend only a couple of days earlier when they had sat across from one another discussing the man’s appointment to the King’s Guard. “I...it probably hasn’t helped and then they were talking about my father and I just couldn’t sit there. Getting a breather for a moment is impossible in this fucking place” Probably not entirely truthful, in more ordinary circumstances, but there was little ordinary in the chaos that beset the Taengean royal household in recent weeks.
Achilleas didn’t go into the little blurting out of what had gone wrong to Briseis. That merited further consideration but not now, and he was not going to speak to Krysto of it, not when the man was already baffled by his seemingly irrational behaviour. “I can go back,” he said instead, sounding resigned.“Just...patch that up and I can go back and reassure everyone I have not gone mad.”
If there was something kind of ominous about the door clicking shut and being enclosed in a room with a man he knew would not mince his words, then Achilleas made no show of acknowledging it. Rather he rounded to face Krysto, jaw set in that stubborn jut that his friend would know oh too well. His expression tightened when his friend began to speak, but the King made no move to interrupt, the high spots of colour cresting on his cheeks enough of an indicator as to what he thought of the man’s words. At least until it seemed as if the Captain was about to reference something that he had no wish to rake up again, and blue eyes blazed warningly.
But Krysto had already cut himself off, and Achilleas wasn’t too keen on the conclusion the other seemed to be drawing. Lovesick? That was a term applied to swooning maids and sappy teenagers. He resented it.
“I am no such thing…”
But either the Captain either did not hear, or chose to ignore him, and Achilleas was forced to strain to hear what was being mumbled from behind the screen of the man’s hands. He looked more than a little uncomfortable as he began to follow. He, who had spent so long avoiding being the source of gossip, had just played well enough into the hands of those who’d create stories out of what had happened. He shook his head, that same frustration at himself making itself evident once more “Nothing even happened” he protested, though he was not a good liar and Krysto of all people was not one he would easily deceive. Gods he was a fool.
With no small amount effort, he made himself look at his friend as the man continued, laying out what Achilleas knew to be the truth, and he could only listen, eyes burning a hole in the wall just to left of where Krysto stood to deliver his little monologue until they flickered back to settle on the other’s face as he paused, words left heavy in the air between them.
“I already told you I didn’t know she was in there” the Mikaelidas man offered through gritted teeth, but the fire had gone, and he was left with the sickening feeling that he always got when he had erred from his own perception of perfection. And he’d done it quite well this time. But what choice had he? Stay in that room in front of all those people with expectations of their new King and fall to pieces? He had panicked in the face of that sudden surge of emotion- emotion that he had been so very good at keeping off his face and out of his thoughts until it had snuck up and punched him in the gut without warning. He might have raised eyebrows by leaving so abruptly, but it was better than the alternative. Let him be thought tempestuous rather than weak.
Briseis was….something else and he couldn’t think about that now, not when Krysto was suddenly right in front of him and Achilleas was holding out his injured hand and wincing when the man prodded it none too gently.
“...I don’t know,” he said, taking a sharp breath in as his fingers twinged. He supposed he deserved that at least. “ I just...It doesn’t matter. It was stupid. I can see that.” Still, pitiful rankled a little, and he fell silent as Krysto examined a hand already swelling up, an unwanted reminder of loss of control in a man who so valued it.
“I haven’t been sleeping,” he said, repeating words he had said to his friend only a couple of days earlier when they had sat across from one another discussing the man’s appointment to the King’s Guard. “I...it probably hasn’t helped and then they were talking about my father and I just couldn’t sit there. Getting a breather for a moment is impossible in this fucking place” Probably not entirely truthful, in more ordinary circumstances, but there was little ordinary in the chaos that beset the Taengean royal household in recent weeks.
Achilleas didn’t go into the little blurting out of what had gone wrong to Briseis. That merited further consideration but not now, and he was not going to speak to Krysto of it, not when the man was already baffled by his seemingly irrational behaviour. “I can go back,” he said instead, sounding resigned.“Just...patch that up and I can go back and reassure everyone I have not gone mad.”
Krysto's own irritation with his king, with his best friend, was quickly fading. He understood that Achilleas was under a lot of strain, but that would never excuse his behavior. It would only serve to make him look even weaker, and there was a bit of fear in Krysto's chest about Achilleas being the next monarch to fall. The Taengean royalty seemed to be more akin to prey than predator, and there was no telling who would be lurking behind the next dark corner. Behind the next scheme that could very easily take the king's life.
It didn't matter that they were to go to war soon.
War was a natural inclination of men, but being ambushed? They could prevent that. Starting now. With Achilleas keeping his chin up and his wits about him. Only then would he be able to really watch his own back. Krysto would not be able to be around at every instance, and that was part of what scared him the most.
Breathing deeply through his nose, his features seeming to relax as he looked at the king's hand, Krysto lifted his gaze to his best friend. "I only scold you because I do not wish to see your funeral. There are vipers in these halls and we never know for certain who they are. I will not see you taken down and branded incompetent so soon, if ever. I'm just... trying to ensure that you have the best chance at being a king who stays on his throne. From now until the end of your days," Krysto said confidently, frowning at the swollen hand of the King.
He then grimaced slightly, "I don't think it best for you to go back today. I'm sure the council has already disbanded to leave you in your much needed peace," he said slowly, shaking his dark curls. "And I need proper medical supplies to fix your hand," he commented. "If you need time, you will get it, but let this be the only instance that you show your hand to your potential enemies," Krysto advised quietly, "One instance seems... managable and expected, but if you fly off the handle each and every time someone mentions King Irakles, you will not make it far in either your talks or your plans for the future."
It wasn't his intention to truly lecture Achilleas up and down, but the king knew well enough that when Krysto spoke like this, it was because he was worried about something. Right her and now, he was worried about Achilleas himself. The need to protect what was important to him was clear, and he truly didn't want to see Achilleas fall. Not when he still had so much life and so much more to do.
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Krysto's own irritation with his king, with his best friend, was quickly fading. He understood that Achilleas was under a lot of strain, but that would never excuse his behavior. It would only serve to make him look even weaker, and there was a bit of fear in Krysto's chest about Achilleas being the next monarch to fall. The Taengean royalty seemed to be more akin to prey than predator, and there was no telling who would be lurking behind the next dark corner. Behind the next scheme that could very easily take the king's life.
It didn't matter that they were to go to war soon.
War was a natural inclination of men, but being ambushed? They could prevent that. Starting now. With Achilleas keeping his chin up and his wits about him. Only then would he be able to really watch his own back. Krysto would not be able to be around at every instance, and that was part of what scared him the most.
Breathing deeply through his nose, his features seeming to relax as he looked at the king's hand, Krysto lifted his gaze to his best friend. "I only scold you because I do not wish to see your funeral. There are vipers in these halls and we never know for certain who they are. I will not see you taken down and branded incompetent so soon, if ever. I'm just... trying to ensure that you have the best chance at being a king who stays on his throne. From now until the end of your days," Krysto said confidently, frowning at the swollen hand of the King.
He then grimaced slightly, "I don't think it best for you to go back today. I'm sure the council has already disbanded to leave you in your much needed peace," he said slowly, shaking his dark curls. "And I need proper medical supplies to fix your hand," he commented. "If you need time, you will get it, but let this be the only instance that you show your hand to your potential enemies," Krysto advised quietly, "One instance seems... managable and expected, but if you fly off the handle each and every time someone mentions King Irakles, you will not make it far in either your talks or your plans for the future."
It wasn't his intention to truly lecture Achilleas up and down, but the king knew well enough that when Krysto spoke like this, it was because he was worried about something. Right her and now, he was worried about Achilleas himself. The need to protect what was important to him was clear, and he truly didn't want to see Achilleas fall. Not when he still had so much life and so much more to do.
Krysto's own irritation with his king, with his best friend, was quickly fading. He understood that Achilleas was under a lot of strain, but that would never excuse his behavior. It would only serve to make him look even weaker, and there was a bit of fear in Krysto's chest about Achilleas being the next monarch to fall. The Taengean royalty seemed to be more akin to prey than predator, and there was no telling who would be lurking behind the next dark corner. Behind the next scheme that could very easily take the king's life.
It didn't matter that they were to go to war soon.
War was a natural inclination of men, but being ambushed? They could prevent that. Starting now. With Achilleas keeping his chin up and his wits about him. Only then would he be able to really watch his own back. Krysto would not be able to be around at every instance, and that was part of what scared him the most.
Breathing deeply through his nose, his features seeming to relax as he looked at the king's hand, Krysto lifted his gaze to his best friend. "I only scold you because I do not wish to see your funeral. There are vipers in these halls and we never know for certain who they are. I will not see you taken down and branded incompetent so soon, if ever. I'm just... trying to ensure that you have the best chance at being a king who stays on his throne. From now until the end of your days," Krysto said confidently, frowning at the swollen hand of the King.
He then grimaced slightly, "I don't think it best for you to go back today. I'm sure the council has already disbanded to leave you in your much needed peace," he said slowly, shaking his dark curls. "And I need proper medical supplies to fix your hand," he commented. "If you need time, you will get it, but let this be the only instance that you show your hand to your potential enemies," Krysto advised quietly, "One instance seems... managable and expected, but if you fly off the handle each and every time someone mentions King Irakles, you will not make it far in either your talks or your plans for the future."
It wasn't his intention to truly lecture Achilleas up and down, but the king knew well enough that when Krysto spoke like this, it was because he was worried about something. Right her and now, he was worried about Achilleas himself. The need to protect what was important to him was clear, and he truly didn't want to see Achilleas fall. Not when he still had so much life and so much more to do.
As usual, Krysto spoke the truth and Achilleas could not hold onto his defensive demeanor in the face of his friend’s words. His eyes settled finally on the face of the other man, brow creased, because he did not like to think that there were those who would be glad to see him fail. There were questions though, surrounding the deaths of King Zanon and Zacharias now, questions that had not been there when the crimes were laid at the feet of the Creed. Achilleas did not believe that Stephanos had anything to do with it, but then that left the fact that people had conspired to make it appear as if he had. People who might still be within this court.
In amongst all the chaos of the past days, it had been easy to forget the uncertainties that Achilleas had felt about his own father’s involvement in it all. With the man gone, his son was now King, and to those from the outside, it probably was not clear where the man’s loyalties lay. There had certainly been no one coming forth to reveal themselves as part of his father’s network, or as staunch supporters of his cousin, and why would they? Achilleas was close to Steph and had long been obedient to his father. His most outwardly telling action had been the senate vote, but that was not likely enough to undermine the years he had spent doing Irakles’ bidding.
Krysto’s words were disconcerting, and Achilleas did not really wish to think about the possibility of being killed by those who were supposed to be his allies. They had enough to contend with in the threat from beyond their borders.
“Let me go and try and fix it then” he said quietly as Krysto examined his hand. But the other man was frowning and made it known that he didn’t think it would benefit anyone for Achilleas to return to his advisors. And when Krysto said he’d need proper medical supplies to sort out whatever mess he’d made of his hand, the King gave a sigh of dismay. He was shaking his head as his friend continued, more at himself than anything.
“I know.” He was saying that a lot, and it didn’t help. It just made his foolishness worse. “Everything was...well not fine, because nothing about this is fine, but I wasn’t prepared. It is stupid, but the idea of disposing of things that were his...it caught me off guard that is all.” He raised his eyes to meet those of his friend “I had to get out before I made a fool out of myself, Krysto. But you are right. I know you are right.”
As for that other idiocy, that crying girl down the hallway, well Achilleas hoped Krysto would say no more on it. His friend would see through any attempts at mistruths and the Mikaelidas man did not want to deal with that. It was too much to ask that Krysto would let it lie indefinitely, but perhaps he had lectured enough for now?
Left somewhat wearied by it all, the King blew out a breath. His hand was throbbing painfully now, and Achilleas flexed his fingers. “Will I be able to hold a sword?” he asked, suddenly fretful that he’d done something even more stupid than he’d first thought. Some King he would be if he could not wield a sword or hurl a spear on the first war he led them to.
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As usual, Krysto spoke the truth and Achilleas could not hold onto his defensive demeanor in the face of his friend’s words. His eyes settled finally on the face of the other man, brow creased, because he did not like to think that there were those who would be glad to see him fail. There were questions though, surrounding the deaths of King Zanon and Zacharias now, questions that had not been there when the crimes were laid at the feet of the Creed. Achilleas did not believe that Stephanos had anything to do with it, but then that left the fact that people had conspired to make it appear as if he had. People who might still be within this court.
In amongst all the chaos of the past days, it had been easy to forget the uncertainties that Achilleas had felt about his own father’s involvement in it all. With the man gone, his son was now King, and to those from the outside, it probably was not clear where the man’s loyalties lay. There had certainly been no one coming forth to reveal themselves as part of his father’s network, or as staunch supporters of his cousin, and why would they? Achilleas was close to Steph and had long been obedient to his father. His most outwardly telling action had been the senate vote, but that was not likely enough to undermine the years he had spent doing Irakles’ bidding.
Krysto’s words were disconcerting, and Achilleas did not really wish to think about the possibility of being killed by those who were supposed to be his allies. They had enough to contend with in the threat from beyond their borders.
“Let me go and try and fix it then” he said quietly as Krysto examined his hand. But the other man was frowning and made it known that he didn’t think it would benefit anyone for Achilleas to return to his advisors. And when Krysto said he’d need proper medical supplies to sort out whatever mess he’d made of his hand, the King gave a sigh of dismay. He was shaking his head as his friend continued, more at himself than anything.
“I know.” He was saying that a lot, and it didn’t help. It just made his foolishness worse. “Everything was...well not fine, because nothing about this is fine, but I wasn’t prepared. It is stupid, but the idea of disposing of things that were his...it caught me off guard that is all.” He raised his eyes to meet those of his friend “I had to get out before I made a fool out of myself, Krysto. But you are right. I know you are right.”
As for that other idiocy, that crying girl down the hallway, well Achilleas hoped Krysto would say no more on it. His friend would see through any attempts at mistruths and the Mikaelidas man did not want to deal with that. It was too much to ask that Krysto would let it lie indefinitely, but perhaps he had lectured enough for now?
Left somewhat wearied by it all, the King blew out a breath. His hand was throbbing painfully now, and Achilleas flexed his fingers. “Will I be able to hold a sword?” he asked, suddenly fretful that he’d done something even more stupid than he’d first thought. Some King he would be if he could not wield a sword or hurl a spear on the first war he led them to.
As usual, Krysto spoke the truth and Achilleas could not hold onto his defensive demeanor in the face of his friend’s words. His eyes settled finally on the face of the other man, brow creased, because he did not like to think that there were those who would be glad to see him fail. There were questions though, surrounding the deaths of King Zanon and Zacharias now, questions that had not been there when the crimes were laid at the feet of the Creed. Achilleas did not believe that Stephanos had anything to do with it, but then that left the fact that people had conspired to make it appear as if he had. People who might still be within this court.
In amongst all the chaos of the past days, it had been easy to forget the uncertainties that Achilleas had felt about his own father’s involvement in it all. With the man gone, his son was now King, and to those from the outside, it probably was not clear where the man’s loyalties lay. There had certainly been no one coming forth to reveal themselves as part of his father’s network, or as staunch supporters of his cousin, and why would they? Achilleas was close to Steph and had long been obedient to his father. His most outwardly telling action had been the senate vote, but that was not likely enough to undermine the years he had spent doing Irakles’ bidding.
Krysto’s words were disconcerting, and Achilleas did not really wish to think about the possibility of being killed by those who were supposed to be his allies. They had enough to contend with in the threat from beyond their borders.
“Let me go and try and fix it then” he said quietly as Krysto examined his hand. But the other man was frowning and made it known that he didn’t think it would benefit anyone for Achilleas to return to his advisors. And when Krysto said he’d need proper medical supplies to sort out whatever mess he’d made of his hand, the King gave a sigh of dismay. He was shaking his head as his friend continued, more at himself than anything.
“I know.” He was saying that a lot, and it didn’t help. It just made his foolishness worse. “Everything was...well not fine, because nothing about this is fine, but I wasn’t prepared. It is stupid, but the idea of disposing of things that were his...it caught me off guard that is all.” He raised his eyes to meet those of his friend “I had to get out before I made a fool out of myself, Krysto. But you are right. I know you are right.”
As for that other idiocy, that crying girl down the hallway, well Achilleas hoped Krysto would say no more on it. His friend would see through any attempts at mistruths and the Mikaelidas man did not want to deal with that. It was too much to ask that Krysto would let it lie indefinitely, but perhaps he had lectured enough for now?
Left somewhat wearied by it all, the King blew out a breath. His hand was throbbing painfully now, and Achilleas flexed his fingers. “Will I be able to hold a sword?” he asked, suddenly fretful that he’d done something even more stupid than he’d first thought. Some King he would be if he could not wield a sword or hurl a spear on the first war he led them to.
It was hard to ignore the unseen dangers that Achilleas could face in the coming days, months, and years. To be honest, he hadn't truly thought about what actual danger could be found, but the fact that two kings and one prince had died and a third king been deposed, there was no doubt in Krysto's mind that there was someone lurking in the shadows making such vicious choices about the lives of Taengea's monarchs. Now that Achilleas was one of these monarchs, Krysto's entire focus was keeping him both safe and alive, no matter the cost.
Though it made Achilleas disconcerted, it should have served to make him more aware of his surroundings and the people around him, especially if his cousin, the princess Xene, hadn't already sewn these doubts into his head.
"I am right because I've always tried my hardest to serve as a voice of reason to you," Krysto said calmly, still looking at Achilleas' hand with a frown even though he had mentioned needing more medical supplies. They would have to move to the physician's rooms before much more could be done, and hopefully the man could do a better job that Krysto's own work, despite Krysto's own medicinal skills. "You are an empassioned man and I know that," Krysto said calmly, delicately, like Achilleas wasn't aware of that fact himself. "And this is new territory for you to tread. Neither of us ever expected you to wear a crown," the man murmured.
"But now that you have it, lets not lose it, shall we? You made the best choice for yourself in the moment, and perhaps you did save yourself from looking a fool, but you did not save herself from looking harried," Krysto patted Achilleas shoulder and motioned the young King toward the doors that would take them back into the hall and then hopefully toward the physician.
Achilleas' question about his hand had Krysto shrugging and he continued to look toward the door, "Lets hope so... for all of Taengea's sake. You might look a fool if you have a bum hand before the war against Egypt has even started," Krysto teased lightly.
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It was hard to ignore the unseen dangers that Achilleas could face in the coming days, months, and years. To be honest, he hadn't truly thought about what actual danger could be found, but the fact that two kings and one prince had died and a third king been deposed, there was no doubt in Krysto's mind that there was someone lurking in the shadows making such vicious choices about the lives of Taengea's monarchs. Now that Achilleas was one of these monarchs, Krysto's entire focus was keeping him both safe and alive, no matter the cost.
Though it made Achilleas disconcerted, it should have served to make him more aware of his surroundings and the people around him, especially if his cousin, the princess Xene, hadn't already sewn these doubts into his head.
"I am right because I've always tried my hardest to serve as a voice of reason to you," Krysto said calmly, still looking at Achilleas' hand with a frown even though he had mentioned needing more medical supplies. They would have to move to the physician's rooms before much more could be done, and hopefully the man could do a better job that Krysto's own work, despite Krysto's own medicinal skills. "You are an empassioned man and I know that," Krysto said calmly, delicately, like Achilleas wasn't aware of that fact himself. "And this is new territory for you to tread. Neither of us ever expected you to wear a crown," the man murmured.
"But now that you have it, lets not lose it, shall we? You made the best choice for yourself in the moment, and perhaps you did save yourself from looking a fool, but you did not save herself from looking harried," Krysto patted Achilleas shoulder and motioned the young King toward the doors that would take them back into the hall and then hopefully toward the physician.
Achilleas' question about his hand had Krysto shrugging and he continued to look toward the door, "Lets hope so... for all of Taengea's sake. You might look a fool if you have a bum hand before the war against Egypt has even started," Krysto teased lightly.
It was hard to ignore the unseen dangers that Achilleas could face in the coming days, months, and years. To be honest, he hadn't truly thought about what actual danger could be found, but the fact that two kings and one prince had died and a third king been deposed, there was no doubt in Krysto's mind that there was someone lurking in the shadows making such vicious choices about the lives of Taengea's monarchs. Now that Achilleas was one of these monarchs, Krysto's entire focus was keeping him both safe and alive, no matter the cost.
Though it made Achilleas disconcerted, it should have served to make him more aware of his surroundings and the people around him, especially if his cousin, the princess Xene, hadn't already sewn these doubts into his head.
"I am right because I've always tried my hardest to serve as a voice of reason to you," Krysto said calmly, still looking at Achilleas' hand with a frown even though he had mentioned needing more medical supplies. They would have to move to the physician's rooms before much more could be done, and hopefully the man could do a better job that Krysto's own work, despite Krysto's own medicinal skills. "You are an empassioned man and I know that," Krysto said calmly, delicately, like Achilleas wasn't aware of that fact himself. "And this is new territory for you to tread. Neither of us ever expected you to wear a crown," the man murmured.
"But now that you have it, lets not lose it, shall we? You made the best choice for yourself in the moment, and perhaps you did save yourself from looking a fool, but you did not save herself from looking harried," Krysto patted Achilleas shoulder and motioned the young King toward the doors that would take them back into the hall and then hopefully toward the physician.
Achilleas' question about his hand had Krysto shrugging and he continued to look toward the door, "Lets hope so... for all of Taengea's sake. You might look a fool if you have a bum hand before the war against Egypt has even started," Krysto teased lightly.
Krysto did not need to justify himself: Achilleas knew well enough how honestly his friend had served him in the past, knew that it was churlish of him to see the man’s words as anything but those of caution, grounded in concern.
He did not keep a wide circle of friends, both a choice he made and a consequence of being a man who did not spare a lot of time for frivolity. Krysto was one of the few who were close enough to Achilleas to dare speak such honest truths, and he knew better - outside of the initial defensiveness - than to not pay heed to the gentle chiding. He frowned slightly at being described as impassioned, for to be so a flaw, a weakness that he had long tried to suppress. Emotions had no place on a field of battle, no place in court. He swallowed because it was all too easy to hear his father’s words, and Achilleas set his jaw because had he not just justified the man’s incessant criticism? Because of him, nonetheless. He clenched his hand into a fist because the sharp pain of that was at least simpler than the muddle of feelings that thinking of his father provoked.
‘Neither of us ever expected you to wear a crown’. And yet here they were, and Achilleas knew he should be glad to have Krysto with him, one face he at least knew he could trust without question. The pat might have felt condescending from another, but from his friend, Achilleas took it as it had been meant, letting his head fall forward.
“Harried is how I feel. It’s been..a lot. I don’t know who to trust with what, I’m trying to organise a force to take to Egypt, I just do not have room to be deciding what should be done with my father’s things.” He shook his head. “I shall have them sent to the archontiko. Emilios can deal with it”
A little calmer, he moved to walk ahead of Krysto from the side room they had ducked into, only then realising the irony of the fact that had he continued only a little further in his original search, he could have found his empty room instead of one occupied by a person who had complicated things further.
That he couldn’t trust himself around Briseis...that was yet another failure on his part. Not even married a week. The new King’s gaze drifted back towards where they had come from but he knew he could make more trouble for himself if he were to try and set things right now. Like the advisors he had left in the lurch, Briseis would be yet another casualty of his ‘ being harried’ it would seem.
Turning back to walk beside Krysto, Achilleas glanced at his hand again and hoped that was not something that was going to be so difficult to resolve. “Might look a fool” he replied to his friend with a disgruntled expression as they headed to get the thing seen to “That is an understatement.” It would be more than embarrassing to have to explain as it was, never mind if it persisted.
The King’s physician was, as expected, a little perturbed by how such an injury had occurred within the walls of the palati, but the man hmm’d and hemmed and did not speak the thoughts that flitted so clearly across his face. It annoyed Achilleas anyway and after the physician had declared no breakages, he pulled his hand away and gave a jerk of his head. “Leave us then.” He shot Krysto a beseeching look because surely he could dress it so Achilleas did not have to endure the old doctor taking forever and a day about it and tutting all the while. And perhaps his friend could just do something discreet that wouldn’t shout about the fact that he had an injury.
Waiting until the elderly man had bowed and taken his leave, Achilleas heaved a sigh. “Does your father want a job?” he asked absently, wondering if in fact he should be paying closer attention to the entirety of the palati staff. Another thing for Emilios to look at in his absence.
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Krysto did not need to justify himself: Achilleas knew well enough how honestly his friend had served him in the past, knew that it was churlish of him to see the man’s words as anything but those of caution, grounded in concern.
He did not keep a wide circle of friends, both a choice he made and a consequence of being a man who did not spare a lot of time for frivolity. Krysto was one of the few who were close enough to Achilleas to dare speak such honest truths, and he knew better - outside of the initial defensiveness - than to not pay heed to the gentle chiding. He frowned slightly at being described as impassioned, for to be so a flaw, a weakness that he had long tried to suppress. Emotions had no place on a field of battle, no place in court. He swallowed because it was all too easy to hear his father’s words, and Achilleas set his jaw because had he not just justified the man’s incessant criticism? Because of him, nonetheless. He clenched his hand into a fist because the sharp pain of that was at least simpler than the muddle of feelings that thinking of his father provoked.
‘Neither of us ever expected you to wear a crown’. And yet here they were, and Achilleas knew he should be glad to have Krysto with him, one face he at least knew he could trust without question. The pat might have felt condescending from another, but from his friend, Achilleas took it as it had been meant, letting his head fall forward.
“Harried is how I feel. It’s been..a lot. I don’t know who to trust with what, I’m trying to organise a force to take to Egypt, I just do not have room to be deciding what should be done with my father’s things.” He shook his head. “I shall have them sent to the archontiko. Emilios can deal with it”
A little calmer, he moved to walk ahead of Krysto from the side room they had ducked into, only then realising the irony of the fact that had he continued only a little further in his original search, he could have found his empty room instead of one occupied by a person who had complicated things further.
That he couldn’t trust himself around Briseis...that was yet another failure on his part. Not even married a week. The new King’s gaze drifted back towards where they had come from but he knew he could make more trouble for himself if he were to try and set things right now. Like the advisors he had left in the lurch, Briseis would be yet another casualty of his ‘ being harried’ it would seem.
Turning back to walk beside Krysto, Achilleas glanced at his hand again and hoped that was not something that was going to be so difficult to resolve. “Might look a fool” he replied to his friend with a disgruntled expression as they headed to get the thing seen to “That is an understatement.” It would be more than embarrassing to have to explain as it was, never mind if it persisted.
The King’s physician was, as expected, a little perturbed by how such an injury had occurred within the walls of the palati, but the man hmm’d and hemmed and did not speak the thoughts that flitted so clearly across his face. It annoyed Achilleas anyway and after the physician had declared no breakages, he pulled his hand away and gave a jerk of his head. “Leave us then.” He shot Krysto a beseeching look because surely he could dress it so Achilleas did not have to endure the old doctor taking forever and a day about it and tutting all the while. And perhaps his friend could just do something discreet that wouldn’t shout about the fact that he had an injury.
Waiting until the elderly man had bowed and taken his leave, Achilleas heaved a sigh. “Does your father want a job?” he asked absently, wondering if in fact he should be paying closer attention to the entirety of the palati staff. Another thing for Emilios to look at in his absence.
Krysto did not need to justify himself: Achilleas knew well enough how honestly his friend had served him in the past, knew that it was churlish of him to see the man’s words as anything but those of caution, grounded in concern.
He did not keep a wide circle of friends, both a choice he made and a consequence of being a man who did not spare a lot of time for frivolity. Krysto was one of the few who were close enough to Achilleas to dare speak such honest truths, and he knew better - outside of the initial defensiveness - than to not pay heed to the gentle chiding. He frowned slightly at being described as impassioned, for to be so a flaw, a weakness that he had long tried to suppress. Emotions had no place on a field of battle, no place in court. He swallowed because it was all too easy to hear his father’s words, and Achilleas set his jaw because had he not just justified the man’s incessant criticism? Because of him, nonetheless. He clenched his hand into a fist because the sharp pain of that was at least simpler than the muddle of feelings that thinking of his father provoked.
‘Neither of us ever expected you to wear a crown’. And yet here they were, and Achilleas knew he should be glad to have Krysto with him, one face he at least knew he could trust without question. The pat might have felt condescending from another, but from his friend, Achilleas took it as it had been meant, letting his head fall forward.
“Harried is how I feel. It’s been..a lot. I don’t know who to trust with what, I’m trying to organise a force to take to Egypt, I just do not have room to be deciding what should be done with my father’s things.” He shook his head. “I shall have them sent to the archontiko. Emilios can deal with it”
A little calmer, he moved to walk ahead of Krysto from the side room they had ducked into, only then realising the irony of the fact that had he continued only a little further in his original search, he could have found his empty room instead of one occupied by a person who had complicated things further.
That he couldn’t trust himself around Briseis...that was yet another failure on his part. Not even married a week. The new King’s gaze drifted back towards where they had come from but he knew he could make more trouble for himself if he were to try and set things right now. Like the advisors he had left in the lurch, Briseis would be yet another casualty of his ‘ being harried’ it would seem.
Turning back to walk beside Krysto, Achilleas glanced at his hand again and hoped that was not something that was going to be so difficult to resolve. “Might look a fool” he replied to his friend with a disgruntled expression as they headed to get the thing seen to “That is an understatement.” It would be more than embarrassing to have to explain as it was, never mind if it persisted.
The King’s physician was, as expected, a little perturbed by how such an injury had occurred within the walls of the palati, but the man hmm’d and hemmed and did not speak the thoughts that flitted so clearly across his face. It annoyed Achilleas anyway and after the physician had declared no breakages, he pulled his hand away and gave a jerk of his head. “Leave us then.” He shot Krysto a beseeching look because surely he could dress it so Achilleas did not have to endure the old doctor taking forever and a day about it and tutting all the while. And perhaps his friend could just do something discreet that wouldn’t shout about the fact that he had an injury.
Waiting until the elderly man had bowed and taken his leave, Achilleas heaved a sigh. “Does your father want a job?” he asked absently, wondering if in fact he should be paying closer attention to the entirety of the palati staff. Another thing for Emilios to look at in his absence.