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It was the night before the traditional harvest festival of Athenia and Persephone had not yet made her decision on how to proceed when it came to claiming or refusing the crown that her father had left it.
It was not so simple that she was refusing that which was given to her. The legacy, the duty, the destiny that her father had left behind. He had made it clear that he wished for Persephone to be queen. Had changed whole systems, betrayed generations of tradition, to ensure that it happened. And yet with his dying breaths he had told her that it was alright... that she did not have to be queen... that he only wished for her to be happy.
It had turned her world upside down and shook her to her core in ways that she had not anticipated. It was not until that moment that Persephone had realised, she had somewhere, deep in her heart, thought of herself as her father's successor more than his daughter. Emilia. Emilia had always been told to be happy, to find joy, to live her life as best as she saw fit. For Persephone, it was lessons and tutorage and how to become the finest ruler Athenia could ever hope to hold upon its throne. The suggestion that she find what Emilia had always been offered with open hands for herself... It had thrown everything out of sync.
And now her father's hubris that she was what was best for Athenia, had thrown the kingdom out of sync as well. Yes, it had been Elias' men that had threatened her life and sent her running for fear of a second fatal strike. Yet it had been her father's decree that had pushed the young Stravos to his limits of resilience and acceptance. She could not condone her cousin for his actions and choices. But she also could not purge her own soul of any responsibility or wrong doing either.
Iris and Aimias had made their intent and beliefs clear. They were of the opinion that an Athenia with Elias in charge was far more damaging to the people of the kingdom than a short-term war for supremacy. Persephone wasn't sure how much of that opinion was based on their recent sufferings or the fact that neither of them had ever been to war. Not that Persephone had.
But Iason had seen conflict. And he seemed far less encouraging of fighting for the crown. And yet was that because he simply wished to return with her to Taengea? And not a politically motivated choice at all?
Persephone pressed her fingertips to her temple, noting the headache that was setting up its presence in her skull and behind her eyes.
Her thoughts had kept her awake, kept her walking the corridors of Iris' home, kept her from spending the hours in the arms of the man she was, she was certain, coming to love with every corner of her heart. Instead, her feet drew her towards the library that Iris had once shown her so many years ago; the one that reminded her of her mother. She had been promised that she was always welcome there and she had thought to find some quiet amongst the memoirs of someone wiser than herself.
For she had had an idea in her wanderings that she could not set into motion without the lady of the house aiding her. And Iris was sure to be asleep at this hour.
And yet, as Persephone drew closer to the chamber in question, pulling her himation tight around her body and over the thin chiton in which she had failed to sleep, she spotted the flicker of torchlight beneath the doorway.
With a soft knock and the opening of the door, Persephone stepped inside to find that she was not the only resident of the household kept awake in the wee hours of night's darkest period...
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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It was the night before the traditional harvest festival of Athenia and Persephone had not yet made her decision on how to proceed when it came to claiming or refusing the crown that her father had left it.
It was not so simple that she was refusing that which was given to her. The legacy, the duty, the destiny that her father had left behind. He had made it clear that he wished for Persephone to be queen. Had changed whole systems, betrayed generations of tradition, to ensure that it happened. And yet with his dying breaths he had told her that it was alright... that she did not have to be queen... that he only wished for her to be happy.
It had turned her world upside down and shook her to her core in ways that she had not anticipated. It was not until that moment that Persephone had realised, she had somewhere, deep in her heart, thought of herself as her father's successor more than his daughter. Emilia. Emilia had always been told to be happy, to find joy, to live her life as best as she saw fit. For Persephone, it was lessons and tutorage and how to become the finest ruler Athenia could ever hope to hold upon its throne. The suggestion that she find what Emilia had always been offered with open hands for herself... It had thrown everything out of sync.
And now her father's hubris that she was what was best for Athenia, had thrown the kingdom out of sync as well. Yes, it had been Elias' men that had threatened her life and sent her running for fear of a second fatal strike. Yet it had been her father's decree that had pushed the young Stravos to his limits of resilience and acceptance. She could not condone her cousin for his actions and choices. But she also could not purge her own soul of any responsibility or wrong doing either.
Iris and Aimias had made their intent and beliefs clear. They were of the opinion that an Athenia with Elias in charge was far more damaging to the people of the kingdom than a short-term war for supremacy. Persephone wasn't sure how much of that opinion was based on their recent sufferings or the fact that neither of them had ever been to war. Not that Persephone had.
But Iason had seen conflict. And he seemed far less encouraging of fighting for the crown. And yet was that because he simply wished to return with her to Taengea? And not a politically motivated choice at all?
Persephone pressed her fingertips to her temple, noting the headache that was setting up its presence in her skull and behind her eyes.
Her thoughts had kept her awake, kept her walking the corridors of Iris' home, kept her from spending the hours in the arms of the man she was, she was certain, coming to love with every corner of her heart. Instead, her feet drew her towards the library that Iris had once shown her so many years ago; the one that reminded her of her mother. She had been promised that she was always welcome there and she had thought to find some quiet amongst the memoirs of someone wiser than herself.
For she had had an idea in her wanderings that she could not set into motion without the lady of the house aiding her. And Iris was sure to be asleep at this hour.
And yet, as Persephone drew closer to the chamber in question, pulling her himation tight around her body and over the thin chiton in which she had failed to sleep, she spotted the flicker of torchlight beneath the doorway.
With a soft knock and the opening of the door, Persephone stepped inside to find that she was not the only resident of the household kept awake in the wee hours of night's darkest period...
It was the night before the traditional harvest festival of Athenia and Persephone had not yet made her decision on how to proceed when it came to claiming or refusing the crown that her father had left it.
It was not so simple that she was refusing that which was given to her. The legacy, the duty, the destiny that her father had left behind. He had made it clear that he wished for Persephone to be queen. Had changed whole systems, betrayed generations of tradition, to ensure that it happened. And yet with his dying breaths he had told her that it was alright... that she did not have to be queen... that he only wished for her to be happy.
It had turned her world upside down and shook her to her core in ways that she had not anticipated. It was not until that moment that Persephone had realised, she had somewhere, deep in her heart, thought of herself as her father's successor more than his daughter. Emilia. Emilia had always been told to be happy, to find joy, to live her life as best as she saw fit. For Persephone, it was lessons and tutorage and how to become the finest ruler Athenia could ever hope to hold upon its throne. The suggestion that she find what Emilia had always been offered with open hands for herself... It had thrown everything out of sync.
And now her father's hubris that she was what was best for Athenia, had thrown the kingdom out of sync as well. Yes, it had been Elias' men that had threatened her life and sent her running for fear of a second fatal strike. Yet it had been her father's decree that had pushed the young Stravos to his limits of resilience and acceptance. She could not condone her cousin for his actions and choices. But she also could not purge her own soul of any responsibility or wrong doing either.
Iris and Aimias had made their intent and beliefs clear. They were of the opinion that an Athenia with Elias in charge was far more damaging to the people of the kingdom than a short-term war for supremacy. Persephone wasn't sure how much of that opinion was based on their recent sufferings or the fact that neither of them had ever been to war. Not that Persephone had.
But Iason had seen conflict. And he seemed far less encouraging of fighting for the crown. And yet was that because he simply wished to return with her to Taengea? And not a politically motivated choice at all?
Persephone pressed her fingertips to her temple, noting the headache that was setting up its presence in her skull and behind her eyes.
Her thoughts had kept her awake, kept her walking the corridors of Iris' home, kept her from spending the hours in the arms of the man she was, she was certain, coming to love with every corner of her heart. Instead, her feet drew her towards the library that Iris had once shown her so many years ago; the one that reminded her of her mother. She had been promised that she was always welcome there and she had thought to find some quiet amongst the memoirs of someone wiser than herself.
For she had had an idea in her wanderings that she could not set into motion without the lady of the house aiding her. And Iris was sure to be asleep at this hour.
And yet, as Persephone drew closer to the chamber in question, pulling her himation tight around her body and over the thin chiton in which she had failed to sleep, she spotted the flicker of torchlight beneath the doorway.
With a soft knock and the opening of the door, Persephone stepped inside to find that she was not the only resident of the household kept awake in the wee hours of night's darkest period...
It was nights like these that made Iris feel so small. She was the ruler of her own domain, but with so many people in her space and so much uncertainty and debate being thrown back and forth she felt like she had less power here compared to anywhere else. Though she had initially found warmth and comfort beside her husband in bed, it was her mind who did not want to seek the quiet of sleep. Body exhausted, and marble floor chilled with the autumn cold, Iris had slipped out of the shared bed. She left Aimias to his rest, reaching for a heavy blanket to pull about her shoulders as she made her way out of her chambers.
Pluto, one of the hunting dogs that lived on the Aetaean manor, and the eldest of her furry companions lifted his head from his paws, wagging his tail tiredly at his mistress. The lady paused briefly to scratch the dog behind the ears and then motioned with her head down the hall. "Come on, boy," she said softly, rising back to steady feet and leading the two of them down to the cozy library that had once been her mother's pride and joy.
Opening the heavy wooden door, Pluto trotted in first, heading right for one of the cozy chaise lounges for him to stretch his old bones across. Iris followed him in, closing the door as quietly as it would allow before she trailed across the room with her blanket dragging on the floors. Her feet carried her to one of the bookshelves, her fingers plucking her mothers favorite novel off the shelf before she brought herself to one of the plush chairs. It was there that she settled herself down, starting the book from the beginning as she had many times in the past when her mind was full.
And that was where she had stayed until she heard the knock of a hand on the door. Her gaze flicked upwards when the door opened, not all that surprised to find the queen in her space. Iris had, after all, offered it up to her years ago. However, the woman did not rise, for here was the one place that Iris would not allow decorum to get in the way of peace. To rise and bow here would bring that wall back up between her and her friend and this was the one chamber of the house that Iris would not cow to the queen. In its own way, it was a temple and Iris considered the both of them priestesses, standing on equal ground for the moment.
"You're up late, my queen," Iris said almost absently, sticking her finger into her stop in the book and closing it around the digit so that she could focus on Persephone. "Pluto," she called lightly, the old dog lifting his head and then trailing off the chaise to give Persephone a place to sit. Instead, Pluto moved to Iris and lay at her feet, his head settled against his paws. "Is something troubling you?"
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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It was nights like these that made Iris feel so small. She was the ruler of her own domain, but with so many people in her space and so much uncertainty and debate being thrown back and forth she felt like she had less power here compared to anywhere else. Though she had initially found warmth and comfort beside her husband in bed, it was her mind who did not want to seek the quiet of sleep. Body exhausted, and marble floor chilled with the autumn cold, Iris had slipped out of the shared bed. She left Aimias to his rest, reaching for a heavy blanket to pull about her shoulders as she made her way out of her chambers.
Pluto, one of the hunting dogs that lived on the Aetaean manor, and the eldest of her furry companions lifted his head from his paws, wagging his tail tiredly at his mistress. The lady paused briefly to scratch the dog behind the ears and then motioned with her head down the hall. "Come on, boy," she said softly, rising back to steady feet and leading the two of them down to the cozy library that had once been her mother's pride and joy.
Opening the heavy wooden door, Pluto trotted in first, heading right for one of the cozy chaise lounges for him to stretch his old bones across. Iris followed him in, closing the door as quietly as it would allow before she trailed across the room with her blanket dragging on the floors. Her feet carried her to one of the bookshelves, her fingers plucking her mothers favorite novel off the shelf before she brought herself to one of the plush chairs. It was there that she settled herself down, starting the book from the beginning as she had many times in the past when her mind was full.
And that was where she had stayed until she heard the knock of a hand on the door. Her gaze flicked upwards when the door opened, not all that surprised to find the queen in her space. Iris had, after all, offered it up to her years ago. However, the woman did not rise, for here was the one place that Iris would not allow decorum to get in the way of peace. To rise and bow here would bring that wall back up between her and her friend and this was the one chamber of the house that Iris would not cow to the queen. In its own way, it was a temple and Iris considered the both of them priestesses, standing on equal ground for the moment.
"You're up late, my queen," Iris said almost absently, sticking her finger into her stop in the book and closing it around the digit so that she could focus on Persephone. "Pluto," she called lightly, the old dog lifting his head and then trailing off the chaise to give Persephone a place to sit. Instead, Pluto moved to Iris and lay at her feet, his head settled against his paws. "Is something troubling you?"
It was nights like these that made Iris feel so small. She was the ruler of her own domain, but with so many people in her space and so much uncertainty and debate being thrown back and forth she felt like she had less power here compared to anywhere else. Though she had initially found warmth and comfort beside her husband in bed, it was her mind who did not want to seek the quiet of sleep. Body exhausted, and marble floor chilled with the autumn cold, Iris had slipped out of the shared bed. She left Aimias to his rest, reaching for a heavy blanket to pull about her shoulders as she made her way out of her chambers.
Pluto, one of the hunting dogs that lived on the Aetaean manor, and the eldest of her furry companions lifted his head from his paws, wagging his tail tiredly at his mistress. The lady paused briefly to scratch the dog behind the ears and then motioned with her head down the hall. "Come on, boy," she said softly, rising back to steady feet and leading the two of them down to the cozy library that had once been her mother's pride and joy.
Opening the heavy wooden door, Pluto trotted in first, heading right for one of the cozy chaise lounges for him to stretch his old bones across. Iris followed him in, closing the door as quietly as it would allow before she trailed across the room with her blanket dragging on the floors. Her feet carried her to one of the bookshelves, her fingers plucking her mothers favorite novel off the shelf before she brought herself to one of the plush chairs. It was there that she settled herself down, starting the book from the beginning as she had many times in the past when her mind was full.
And that was where she had stayed until she heard the knock of a hand on the door. Her gaze flicked upwards when the door opened, not all that surprised to find the queen in her space. Iris had, after all, offered it up to her years ago. However, the woman did not rise, for here was the one place that Iris would not allow decorum to get in the way of peace. To rise and bow here would bring that wall back up between her and her friend and this was the one chamber of the house that Iris would not cow to the queen. In its own way, it was a temple and Iris considered the both of them priestesses, standing on equal ground for the moment.
"You're up late, my queen," Iris said almost absently, sticking her finger into her stop in the book and closing it around the digit so that she could focus on Persephone. "Pluto," she called lightly, the old dog lifting his head and then trailing off the chaise to give Persephone a place to sit. Instead, Pluto moved to Iris and lay at her feet, his head settled against his paws. "Is something troubling you?"
Persephone stepped into the room with an elegant grace that, since her childhood years had become as much a part of her as the black of her hair or the dark chocolate tone of her eyes. She moved with a sense of the ethereal, even when tired and run down by the ways of the world. Despite her internal turmoil that spoke of difficulty and trial, her posture never wavered from that of a proud and confident Queen, with straight shoulders and a stoic line to the frame of her spine.
Her expression was one of cool and calm acceptance of the events that had led her to this place, her eyes soft and her features open in the friendship she shared with the woman who greeted her from an elegant and proud chair on the far side of the room. Iris was curled into the monster of a seat, clearly finding sanctuary in what might have - at one point - been the preferred throne of her father. She sat there with a level of comfort and haven-like security that Persephone wasn't sure she found anywhere anymore. It was strange the hollow and desperate feeling the loss of such a place caused in the centre of one's heart.
At the baroness' query, Persephone smiled softly and shook her head. The loose tendrils of her hair hung with a few rebellious waves to an otherwise silken waterfall of inky black. Tempted to push them back with a careless and informal hand, Persephone restrained the impulse and simply came to stand before Iris, not taking the openly offered seat just yet but turning to matters of business as was her default go to.
"I think that there is little that does not trouble me, as of late, my friend." She offered the girl, elegantly diverting more personal inquiries as she had always been taught. Her brows drew a little together as she posed her own question in return. "Yet, I was wondering if you could aid me in removing at least a minor issue of sorts..."
Turning to now find purchase on the edge of the newly abandoned chaise, Persephone's smile deepened to something truly compassionate as the large dog at Iris' feet stretched out over the rug in order to sniff at her slippered toes. Bending low, one arm wrapped around her middle to hold her gown in place, Persephone's long and slim fingers reached to scratch behind her old boy's ear. His eyes closed and he exhaled heavily in enjoyment of the petting and Persephone's wrist became damp with drool from her efforts but she didn't seem to mind.
Retracting her touch and sitting up straight once more, Persephone turned to her friend without explanation of her strange request beyond the query itself, Persephone settled her hands back to her lap and spoke:
"I ask the favour of a gown, Iris." She asked, her tone light but her eyes serious. "And a cloak. Each of common stock. Mended or worn. Something one of your servants might favour or a stable hand?"
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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Persephone stepped into the room with an elegant grace that, since her childhood years had become as much a part of her as the black of her hair or the dark chocolate tone of her eyes. She moved with a sense of the ethereal, even when tired and run down by the ways of the world. Despite her internal turmoil that spoke of difficulty and trial, her posture never wavered from that of a proud and confident Queen, with straight shoulders and a stoic line to the frame of her spine.
Her expression was one of cool and calm acceptance of the events that had led her to this place, her eyes soft and her features open in the friendship she shared with the woman who greeted her from an elegant and proud chair on the far side of the room. Iris was curled into the monster of a seat, clearly finding sanctuary in what might have - at one point - been the preferred throne of her father. She sat there with a level of comfort and haven-like security that Persephone wasn't sure she found anywhere anymore. It was strange the hollow and desperate feeling the loss of such a place caused in the centre of one's heart.
At the baroness' query, Persephone smiled softly and shook her head. The loose tendrils of her hair hung with a few rebellious waves to an otherwise silken waterfall of inky black. Tempted to push them back with a careless and informal hand, Persephone restrained the impulse and simply came to stand before Iris, not taking the openly offered seat just yet but turning to matters of business as was her default go to.
"I think that there is little that does not trouble me, as of late, my friend." She offered the girl, elegantly diverting more personal inquiries as she had always been taught. Her brows drew a little together as she posed her own question in return. "Yet, I was wondering if you could aid me in removing at least a minor issue of sorts..."
Turning to now find purchase on the edge of the newly abandoned chaise, Persephone's smile deepened to something truly compassionate as the large dog at Iris' feet stretched out over the rug in order to sniff at her slippered toes. Bending low, one arm wrapped around her middle to hold her gown in place, Persephone's long and slim fingers reached to scratch behind her old boy's ear. His eyes closed and he exhaled heavily in enjoyment of the petting and Persephone's wrist became damp with drool from her efforts but she didn't seem to mind.
Retracting her touch and sitting up straight once more, Persephone turned to her friend without explanation of her strange request beyond the query itself, Persephone settled her hands back to her lap and spoke:
"I ask the favour of a gown, Iris." She asked, her tone light but her eyes serious. "And a cloak. Each of common stock. Mended or worn. Something one of your servants might favour or a stable hand?"
Persephone stepped into the room with an elegant grace that, since her childhood years had become as much a part of her as the black of her hair or the dark chocolate tone of her eyes. She moved with a sense of the ethereal, even when tired and run down by the ways of the world. Despite her internal turmoil that spoke of difficulty and trial, her posture never wavered from that of a proud and confident Queen, with straight shoulders and a stoic line to the frame of her spine.
Her expression was one of cool and calm acceptance of the events that had led her to this place, her eyes soft and her features open in the friendship she shared with the woman who greeted her from an elegant and proud chair on the far side of the room. Iris was curled into the monster of a seat, clearly finding sanctuary in what might have - at one point - been the preferred throne of her father. She sat there with a level of comfort and haven-like security that Persephone wasn't sure she found anywhere anymore. It was strange the hollow and desperate feeling the loss of such a place caused in the centre of one's heart.
At the baroness' query, Persephone smiled softly and shook her head. The loose tendrils of her hair hung with a few rebellious waves to an otherwise silken waterfall of inky black. Tempted to push them back with a careless and informal hand, Persephone restrained the impulse and simply came to stand before Iris, not taking the openly offered seat just yet but turning to matters of business as was her default go to.
"I think that there is little that does not trouble me, as of late, my friend." She offered the girl, elegantly diverting more personal inquiries as she had always been taught. Her brows drew a little together as she posed her own question in return. "Yet, I was wondering if you could aid me in removing at least a minor issue of sorts..."
Turning to now find purchase on the edge of the newly abandoned chaise, Persephone's smile deepened to something truly compassionate as the large dog at Iris' feet stretched out over the rug in order to sniff at her slippered toes. Bending low, one arm wrapped around her middle to hold her gown in place, Persephone's long and slim fingers reached to scratch behind her old boy's ear. His eyes closed and he exhaled heavily in enjoyment of the petting and Persephone's wrist became damp with drool from her efforts but she didn't seem to mind.
Retracting her touch and sitting up straight once more, Persephone turned to her friend without explanation of her strange request beyond the query itself, Persephone settled her hands back to her lap and spoke:
"I ask the favour of a gown, Iris." She asked, her tone light but her eyes serious. "And a cloak. Each of common stock. Mended or worn. Something one of your servants might favour or a stable hand?"
Iris did find the energy to sit up and give the queen some bit of respect. Planting both of her feet firmly on the marble floor of the library, her own hand reached down to trail through the fur of her faithful companion. She was pleased that the canine reacted so easily and peacefully toward the queen, and didn't think further on the dog from that point. Instead, the baroness carefully set her book aside on the table beside the chair she sat in. She would worry about finding her placement later, knowing that she would now need to focus on Queen Persephone above all things.
Her hands settled into her lap and she waited patiently until the woman either spoke or settled down. She did not sit before she launched right into the business of why she was in this room so late at night, which made Iris shift slightly in her seat to seem ever more attentive of the queen. She would not speak until she was given a chance to, knowing that interrupting the queen was rude and frowned upon. This may have been Iris' domain, but a modicum of respect was still required in situations like this.
"I think there is little that does not trouble anyone in this time," Iris confirmed. Of course, the baroness had her own reservations about what was happening in Athenia. There was little more she could admit to, as she had already lain all of her opinions and reservations out for Persephone to see days ago. The queen knew what was on her mind, though there were issues relating to her barony that would continue to be a sore spot for the baroness until Athenia found its stable footing once more.
The uncertainty of what was happening now did little to ease worries, but Iris had long promised to do whatever the queen needed of her, no matter what it may have been. "Of course I can aid you, my queen. I think my devotion has been a long-standing agreement between the two of us that I will do anything you ask of me."
Then there was the pause for Persephone to reach down and pet the old dog at Iris' feet. Not moving, Iris then waited until the queen was finally seated and had expressed her desires to actually open her mouth again. "Those two items are not items that are hard to come by, my queen," she admitted slowly, her brows furrowing just slightly in order to express to the queen that she was questioning what the woman needed the items for.
"But I worry about what you need them for, my queen," Iris expressed outloud. "What plans do you have that I have not heard of thus far?" Iris was more than keen to be of help to the woman, but only if she was going to be safe about things. "Must I prepare anything else for you?" Iris then added, her green gaze fixated on the woman before her with every intention of dragging the queen's plans from her lips.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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Iris did find the energy to sit up and give the queen some bit of respect. Planting both of her feet firmly on the marble floor of the library, her own hand reached down to trail through the fur of her faithful companion. She was pleased that the canine reacted so easily and peacefully toward the queen, and didn't think further on the dog from that point. Instead, the baroness carefully set her book aside on the table beside the chair she sat in. She would worry about finding her placement later, knowing that she would now need to focus on Queen Persephone above all things.
Her hands settled into her lap and she waited patiently until the woman either spoke or settled down. She did not sit before she launched right into the business of why she was in this room so late at night, which made Iris shift slightly in her seat to seem ever more attentive of the queen. She would not speak until she was given a chance to, knowing that interrupting the queen was rude and frowned upon. This may have been Iris' domain, but a modicum of respect was still required in situations like this.
"I think there is little that does not trouble anyone in this time," Iris confirmed. Of course, the baroness had her own reservations about what was happening in Athenia. There was little more she could admit to, as she had already lain all of her opinions and reservations out for Persephone to see days ago. The queen knew what was on her mind, though there were issues relating to her barony that would continue to be a sore spot for the baroness until Athenia found its stable footing once more.
The uncertainty of what was happening now did little to ease worries, but Iris had long promised to do whatever the queen needed of her, no matter what it may have been. "Of course I can aid you, my queen. I think my devotion has been a long-standing agreement between the two of us that I will do anything you ask of me."
Then there was the pause for Persephone to reach down and pet the old dog at Iris' feet. Not moving, Iris then waited until the queen was finally seated and had expressed her desires to actually open her mouth again. "Those two items are not items that are hard to come by, my queen," she admitted slowly, her brows furrowing just slightly in order to express to the queen that she was questioning what the woman needed the items for.
"But I worry about what you need them for, my queen," Iris expressed outloud. "What plans do you have that I have not heard of thus far?" Iris was more than keen to be of help to the woman, but only if she was going to be safe about things. "Must I prepare anything else for you?" Iris then added, her green gaze fixated on the woman before her with every intention of dragging the queen's plans from her lips.
Iris did find the energy to sit up and give the queen some bit of respect. Planting both of her feet firmly on the marble floor of the library, her own hand reached down to trail through the fur of her faithful companion. She was pleased that the canine reacted so easily and peacefully toward the queen, and didn't think further on the dog from that point. Instead, the baroness carefully set her book aside on the table beside the chair she sat in. She would worry about finding her placement later, knowing that she would now need to focus on Queen Persephone above all things.
Her hands settled into her lap and she waited patiently until the woman either spoke or settled down. She did not sit before she launched right into the business of why she was in this room so late at night, which made Iris shift slightly in her seat to seem ever more attentive of the queen. She would not speak until she was given a chance to, knowing that interrupting the queen was rude and frowned upon. This may have been Iris' domain, but a modicum of respect was still required in situations like this.
"I think there is little that does not trouble anyone in this time," Iris confirmed. Of course, the baroness had her own reservations about what was happening in Athenia. There was little more she could admit to, as she had already lain all of her opinions and reservations out for Persephone to see days ago. The queen knew what was on her mind, though there were issues relating to her barony that would continue to be a sore spot for the baroness until Athenia found its stable footing once more.
The uncertainty of what was happening now did little to ease worries, but Iris had long promised to do whatever the queen needed of her, no matter what it may have been. "Of course I can aid you, my queen. I think my devotion has been a long-standing agreement between the two of us that I will do anything you ask of me."
Then there was the pause for Persephone to reach down and pet the old dog at Iris' feet. Not moving, Iris then waited until the queen was finally seated and had expressed her desires to actually open her mouth again. "Those two items are not items that are hard to come by, my queen," she admitted slowly, her brows furrowing just slightly in order to express to the queen that she was questioning what the woman needed the items for.
"But I worry about what you need them for, my queen," Iris expressed outloud. "What plans do you have that I have not heard of thus far?" Iris was more than keen to be of help to the woman, but only if she was going to be safe about things. "Must I prepare anything else for you?" Iris then added, her green gaze fixated on the woman before her with every intention of dragging the queen's plans from her lips.
From her perch where she could offer a little attention and comfort to the old dog, Persephone was quick to then restraighten and address herself solely to the creature’s master. Raised always to fix the most attentive of perceptions upon those that spoke to her, Persephone ignored any attempts of the animal to butt his nose against her dangling fingertips for a secondary appraisal of his ears and fur. Instead, her gaze was fixed on her friend, her expression calm and a little tired. Neither entirely relaxed, nor vigilant with high tension. Persephone watched as the woman’s expression shifted from open willingness, to surprise over so simply a request, before sliding into suspicion and concern over what might make her desire such two garment pieces.
Blinking calmly and without guilt, Persephone showed a dismissiveness in her answer by permitting the touch that the old dog seemed desirous to push for and bent once more to scratch behind the canine’s ears. She spoke as she did so, giving the impression that her answer was nothing more than a passing fancy and in no desperate need for high attentions or focus.
“I’ll be leaving the manor in the morn.” She stated with a softness that made the sentence a statement over an order. But the word choice was still determined. “Just for the day… and attending the capitol.” It was in this moment that she glanced up to survey her friend, her expression reading that she knew such a plan would not be to the woman’s favour or appreciation but with a set to her jawline that surmised that her disapproval was by no means likely to change her decision.
Parting her lips, as if to explain more, Persephone’s mouth closed after a moment, deciding that she had said enough as it was. She knew that there were plenty – including herself – who would perceive her decision to journey to Athenia to be a fool’s errand and perhaps an ill-judged verdict. However, she also knew within herself the import of it.
If she was to decide whether she would stay within the boundaries of Athenia and fight to claim a throne that had not been hers to begin with, throwing the people into a civil war they did not ask for… then she needed to be certain within herself that it was the only viable option for a happy and secure life for the Athenian people. And the only way to be certain of that was to see how Elias had handled her absence thus far. Civil war was not a plan of action that one could enter into with any doubt or regret. And she hoped that such a visit to the capitol – in the middle of the annual festival for harvest time – might give her the evidence she needed to make her such a major decision regarding her future.
Yet she could not go as Persephone, potential future Queen of Athenia. For, if she was to be noticed, she knew herself to still be the target of Elias’ maleficent intent. He had already tried to kill her once and a second would not be outside of his ability. Hence the gown and cloak… shields of fabric that she would use to defend herself against selfish politics and bare swords…
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From her perch where she could offer a little attention and comfort to the old dog, Persephone was quick to then restraighten and address herself solely to the creature’s master. Raised always to fix the most attentive of perceptions upon those that spoke to her, Persephone ignored any attempts of the animal to butt his nose against her dangling fingertips for a secondary appraisal of his ears and fur. Instead, her gaze was fixed on her friend, her expression calm and a little tired. Neither entirely relaxed, nor vigilant with high tension. Persephone watched as the woman’s expression shifted from open willingness, to surprise over so simply a request, before sliding into suspicion and concern over what might make her desire such two garment pieces.
Blinking calmly and without guilt, Persephone showed a dismissiveness in her answer by permitting the touch that the old dog seemed desirous to push for and bent once more to scratch behind the canine’s ears. She spoke as she did so, giving the impression that her answer was nothing more than a passing fancy and in no desperate need for high attentions or focus.
“I’ll be leaving the manor in the morn.” She stated with a softness that made the sentence a statement over an order. But the word choice was still determined. “Just for the day… and attending the capitol.” It was in this moment that she glanced up to survey her friend, her expression reading that she knew such a plan would not be to the woman’s favour or appreciation but with a set to her jawline that surmised that her disapproval was by no means likely to change her decision.
Parting her lips, as if to explain more, Persephone’s mouth closed after a moment, deciding that she had said enough as it was. She knew that there were plenty – including herself – who would perceive her decision to journey to Athenia to be a fool’s errand and perhaps an ill-judged verdict. However, she also knew within herself the import of it.
If she was to decide whether she would stay within the boundaries of Athenia and fight to claim a throne that had not been hers to begin with, throwing the people into a civil war they did not ask for… then she needed to be certain within herself that it was the only viable option for a happy and secure life for the Athenian people. And the only way to be certain of that was to see how Elias had handled her absence thus far. Civil war was not a plan of action that one could enter into with any doubt or regret. And she hoped that such a visit to the capitol – in the middle of the annual festival for harvest time – might give her the evidence she needed to make her such a major decision regarding her future.
Yet she could not go as Persephone, potential future Queen of Athenia. For, if she was to be noticed, she knew herself to still be the target of Elias’ maleficent intent. He had already tried to kill her once and a second would not be outside of his ability. Hence the gown and cloak… shields of fabric that she would use to defend herself against selfish politics and bare swords…
From her perch where she could offer a little attention and comfort to the old dog, Persephone was quick to then restraighten and address herself solely to the creature’s master. Raised always to fix the most attentive of perceptions upon those that spoke to her, Persephone ignored any attempts of the animal to butt his nose against her dangling fingertips for a secondary appraisal of his ears and fur. Instead, her gaze was fixed on her friend, her expression calm and a little tired. Neither entirely relaxed, nor vigilant with high tension. Persephone watched as the woman’s expression shifted from open willingness, to surprise over so simply a request, before sliding into suspicion and concern over what might make her desire such two garment pieces.
Blinking calmly and without guilt, Persephone showed a dismissiveness in her answer by permitting the touch that the old dog seemed desirous to push for and bent once more to scratch behind the canine’s ears. She spoke as she did so, giving the impression that her answer was nothing more than a passing fancy and in no desperate need for high attentions or focus.
“I’ll be leaving the manor in the morn.” She stated with a softness that made the sentence a statement over an order. But the word choice was still determined. “Just for the day… and attending the capitol.” It was in this moment that she glanced up to survey her friend, her expression reading that she knew such a plan would not be to the woman’s favour or appreciation but with a set to her jawline that surmised that her disapproval was by no means likely to change her decision.
Parting her lips, as if to explain more, Persephone’s mouth closed after a moment, deciding that she had said enough as it was. She knew that there were plenty – including herself – who would perceive her decision to journey to Athenia to be a fool’s errand and perhaps an ill-judged verdict. However, she also knew within herself the import of it.
If she was to decide whether she would stay within the boundaries of Athenia and fight to claim a throne that had not been hers to begin with, throwing the people into a civil war they did not ask for… then she needed to be certain within herself that it was the only viable option for a happy and secure life for the Athenian people. And the only way to be certain of that was to see how Elias had handled her absence thus far. Civil war was not a plan of action that one could enter into with any doubt or regret. And she hoped that such a visit to the capitol – in the middle of the annual festival for harvest time – might give her the evidence she needed to make her such a major decision regarding her future.
Yet she could not go as Persephone, potential future Queen of Athenia. For, if she was to be noticed, she knew herself to still be the target of Elias’ maleficent intent. He had already tried to kill her once and a second would not be outside of his ability. Hence the gown and cloak… shields of fabric that she would use to defend herself against selfish politics and bare swords…
Those were certainly the words that Iris hadn't wanted to hear. There had been a deep hope that she would just be going into the small city of Aetaea rather than the capitol. One option bore far less danger than the other, and Iris found herself putting her book entirely aside on the side table. She leaned back in her chair slightly, glancing at her hands and picking almost casually at her nails. This certainly struck up an insurmountable amount of anxiety in the lady of Aetaea that she couldn't quell immediately as she had hoped.
At first, Iris had hoped to say absolutely nothing to the request. To not argue with the very dangerous little quest that her queen seemed intent on venturing into. Part of her wondered if she thought of the danger she was bringing upon those around her by doing something so wholly selfish, but perhaps Iris was also the selfish one for wanting her family to remain safe and guarded away from whatever hell Queen Persephone's choices would bring upon them all in the coming months.
Her mind was already running with loose ends to tie up and people that needed to be sent into hiding if Argyris was to come otu of this even slightly unscathed. Unlikely, as the threat of civil war still hung over everyone. Iris understood, even in her disagreement with this particular choice that this was something that Persephone had to do. Seeing Athenia, and more than likely her sister, would be something invaluable to the young qheen in taking her next steps. Either toward the throne or away from it.
The words that did come out of Iris' mouth were measured and careful, though she was sure that they expressed her thoughts with enough emotion that Persephone would at least consider the gravity of her actions. Iris would not keep her from going, but she would let the queen know how she felt about it. "I pray, for all of our sakes, my queen, that you go with care," she said very slowly, her brows furrowed. Her fingers stilled in her lap and she pressed herself to her feet, the thought of relaxing and reading now entirely dashed by the prospect of something happening to Persephone while she was gone. "And that you remember there are people within and without of your circle that are at risk with each step you take closer to the capitol. It is your right to go, but do not allow your privilege to strip those around you of their safety," Iris shook her head slightly.
"That is all that I will say on this. I shall have a servant bring you what you asked for and I'll have your horses prepared for the morning," the baroness instructed in a calm tone that hadn't once changed from when she started.
Her feet carried herself toward the bookcase with her mother's favorite book in hand once more. Slipping it into its treasured spot on the shelf, Iris turned slowly to look at Persephone once more. Slipping into a deep and reverent bow, Iris then lifted herself back up. "You should sleep. I'll ensure everything is ready and to your requirements," she said a little dismissively. "If you will excuse me, my queen. I shall bid you goodnight unless there is something else you wish to speak of," Iris did not move from her spot by the bookcase, as if the furniture now between them was her armor from the fear and anxiety that all of this induced.
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Those were certainly the words that Iris hadn't wanted to hear. There had been a deep hope that she would just be going into the small city of Aetaea rather than the capitol. One option bore far less danger than the other, and Iris found herself putting her book entirely aside on the side table. She leaned back in her chair slightly, glancing at her hands and picking almost casually at her nails. This certainly struck up an insurmountable amount of anxiety in the lady of Aetaea that she couldn't quell immediately as she had hoped.
At first, Iris had hoped to say absolutely nothing to the request. To not argue with the very dangerous little quest that her queen seemed intent on venturing into. Part of her wondered if she thought of the danger she was bringing upon those around her by doing something so wholly selfish, but perhaps Iris was also the selfish one for wanting her family to remain safe and guarded away from whatever hell Queen Persephone's choices would bring upon them all in the coming months.
Her mind was already running with loose ends to tie up and people that needed to be sent into hiding if Argyris was to come otu of this even slightly unscathed. Unlikely, as the threat of civil war still hung over everyone. Iris understood, even in her disagreement with this particular choice that this was something that Persephone had to do. Seeing Athenia, and more than likely her sister, would be something invaluable to the young qheen in taking her next steps. Either toward the throne or away from it.
The words that did come out of Iris' mouth were measured and careful, though she was sure that they expressed her thoughts with enough emotion that Persephone would at least consider the gravity of her actions. Iris would not keep her from going, but she would let the queen know how she felt about it. "I pray, for all of our sakes, my queen, that you go with care," she said very slowly, her brows furrowed. Her fingers stilled in her lap and she pressed herself to her feet, the thought of relaxing and reading now entirely dashed by the prospect of something happening to Persephone while she was gone. "And that you remember there are people within and without of your circle that are at risk with each step you take closer to the capitol. It is your right to go, but do not allow your privilege to strip those around you of their safety," Iris shook her head slightly.
"That is all that I will say on this. I shall have a servant bring you what you asked for and I'll have your horses prepared for the morning," the baroness instructed in a calm tone that hadn't once changed from when she started.
Her feet carried herself toward the bookcase with her mother's favorite book in hand once more. Slipping it into its treasured spot on the shelf, Iris turned slowly to look at Persephone once more. Slipping into a deep and reverent bow, Iris then lifted herself back up. "You should sleep. I'll ensure everything is ready and to your requirements," she said a little dismissively. "If you will excuse me, my queen. I shall bid you goodnight unless there is something else you wish to speak of," Iris did not move from her spot by the bookcase, as if the furniture now between them was her armor from the fear and anxiety that all of this induced.
Those were certainly the words that Iris hadn't wanted to hear. There had been a deep hope that she would just be going into the small city of Aetaea rather than the capitol. One option bore far less danger than the other, and Iris found herself putting her book entirely aside on the side table. She leaned back in her chair slightly, glancing at her hands and picking almost casually at her nails. This certainly struck up an insurmountable amount of anxiety in the lady of Aetaea that she couldn't quell immediately as she had hoped.
At first, Iris had hoped to say absolutely nothing to the request. To not argue with the very dangerous little quest that her queen seemed intent on venturing into. Part of her wondered if she thought of the danger she was bringing upon those around her by doing something so wholly selfish, but perhaps Iris was also the selfish one for wanting her family to remain safe and guarded away from whatever hell Queen Persephone's choices would bring upon them all in the coming months.
Her mind was already running with loose ends to tie up and people that needed to be sent into hiding if Argyris was to come otu of this even slightly unscathed. Unlikely, as the threat of civil war still hung over everyone. Iris understood, even in her disagreement with this particular choice that this was something that Persephone had to do. Seeing Athenia, and more than likely her sister, would be something invaluable to the young qheen in taking her next steps. Either toward the throne or away from it.
The words that did come out of Iris' mouth were measured and careful, though she was sure that they expressed her thoughts with enough emotion that Persephone would at least consider the gravity of her actions. Iris would not keep her from going, but she would let the queen know how she felt about it. "I pray, for all of our sakes, my queen, that you go with care," she said very slowly, her brows furrowed. Her fingers stilled in her lap and she pressed herself to her feet, the thought of relaxing and reading now entirely dashed by the prospect of something happening to Persephone while she was gone. "And that you remember there are people within and without of your circle that are at risk with each step you take closer to the capitol. It is your right to go, but do not allow your privilege to strip those around you of their safety," Iris shook her head slightly.
"That is all that I will say on this. I shall have a servant bring you what you asked for and I'll have your horses prepared for the morning," the baroness instructed in a calm tone that hadn't once changed from when she started.
Her feet carried herself toward the bookcase with her mother's favorite book in hand once more. Slipping it into its treasured spot on the shelf, Iris turned slowly to look at Persephone once more. Slipping into a deep and reverent bow, Iris then lifted herself back up. "You should sleep. I'll ensure everything is ready and to your requirements," she said a little dismissively. "If you will excuse me, my queen. I shall bid you goodnight unless there is something else you wish to speak of," Iris did not move from her spot by the bookcase, as if the furniture now between them was her armor from the fear and anxiety that all of this induced.
Persephone wasn't entirely sure what she was to make of this situation - particularly that which pertained to Iris. She remembered the first time that the two of them had stood within this chamber; the sense of camaraderie and sisterhood that had begun to weave its strands. She had understood in that moment that Iris loved the concept of family. That her familial ties were powerful. One had to only look around such chamber to know this; the memories and carefully cultivated connections to a lost mother that graced every surface and corner. She knew that the woman before her was scared for the safety of those she loved.
But, in contrast to this... she had not asked Iris for her loyalty. She had not asked the House of Argyris to place their necks upon Elias' chopping block, nor asked them to become her shield. She had come to their home only a short while ago and simply sought sanctuary for a few days so that she might find a way to reach her sister. She had never asked for them to show solidarity in her claim to a throne that so many wished she had never received.
In this, Iason was right. They had chosen this. It was they that now turned to her for an answer and the rewards due for a loyalty she had never enforced or requested. And there was a sense of sharpness... of offence in the manner in which Iris now seemed to hold her at sword point; determining that she never forget the unsolicited efforts made that had placed her family in such a precarious position.
Rising to her feel with a slow elegance, her features set in a hard line, her tone was one of calm reflection and open dialogue; the kind of tone she used during political negotiations.
"I don't believe that I have ever given cause for you to believe that I act upon anything without due care and consideration, Iris." She stated calmly. "And it should go against every instinct within me to place those I claim as friends into any sort of danger." Her eyes narrowed a little. "But you cannot request of me to instigate a civil war upon your words alone - however trustworthy the source may be. Whilst I believe your faith in your own words, the experiences of others may be different. If I am to drown Athenia in the threat of bloodshed it will be done with a clear conscience and an informed mind. I must go to the capitol. Regardless of any risks that I am unable to mitigate." For the safety of Iris' family was, when posed in contrast, worth less than the safety of the entire nation. And Persephone would not risk the second without risking the first to ensure that such violence was entirely necessary.
"I shall save you the permission of your dismissal and attend to bed now. I thank you for whatever resources you can provide me."
And with a sense of dignity, and a renewed understanding of something her father had once said, Persephone turned and left the chamber, her bare feet taking her back towards the chamber in which Iason slept.
King Minas had once said... the head that wore the crown could not hold friends. They had those that were loyal and those that were trustworthy. But, in a position of rule, decisions were to be made that would eventually place every single one of those into a role of danger or weakness. And such friends would not thank you for it. A monarch, therefore, could not have friends. For they could not have loyalties. For all the devotion given to them, they could give none in return. They could offer no favouritism. And simply make choices based on what was true and right for the entirety of the kingdom... In that, it was the role of a monarch was to naturally be ungracious.
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Persephone wasn't entirely sure what she was to make of this situation - particularly that which pertained to Iris. She remembered the first time that the two of them had stood within this chamber; the sense of camaraderie and sisterhood that had begun to weave its strands. She had understood in that moment that Iris loved the concept of family. That her familial ties were powerful. One had to only look around such chamber to know this; the memories and carefully cultivated connections to a lost mother that graced every surface and corner. She knew that the woman before her was scared for the safety of those she loved.
But, in contrast to this... she had not asked Iris for her loyalty. She had not asked the House of Argyris to place their necks upon Elias' chopping block, nor asked them to become her shield. She had come to their home only a short while ago and simply sought sanctuary for a few days so that she might find a way to reach her sister. She had never asked for them to show solidarity in her claim to a throne that so many wished she had never received.
In this, Iason was right. They had chosen this. It was they that now turned to her for an answer and the rewards due for a loyalty she had never enforced or requested. And there was a sense of sharpness... of offence in the manner in which Iris now seemed to hold her at sword point; determining that she never forget the unsolicited efforts made that had placed her family in such a precarious position.
Rising to her feel with a slow elegance, her features set in a hard line, her tone was one of calm reflection and open dialogue; the kind of tone she used during political negotiations.
"I don't believe that I have ever given cause for you to believe that I act upon anything without due care and consideration, Iris." She stated calmly. "And it should go against every instinct within me to place those I claim as friends into any sort of danger." Her eyes narrowed a little. "But you cannot request of me to instigate a civil war upon your words alone - however trustworthy the source may be. Whilst I believe your faith in your own words, the experiences of others may be different. If I am to drown Athenia in the threat of bloodshed it will be done with a clear conscience and an informed mind. I must go to the capitol. Regardless of any risks that I am unable to mitigate." For the safety of Iris' family was, when posed in contrast, worth less than the safety of the entire nation. And Persephone would not risk the second without risking the first to ensure that such violence was entirely necessary.
"I shall save you the permission of your dismissal and attend to bed now. I thank you for whatever resources you can provide me."
And with a sense of dignity, and a renewed understanding of something her father had once said, Persephone turned and left the chamber, her bare feet taking her back towards the chamber in which Iason slept.
King Minas had once said... the head that wore the crown could not hold friends. They had those that were loyal and those that were trustworthy. But, in a position of rule, decisions were to be made that would eventually place every single one of those into a role of danger or weakness. And such friends would not thank you for it. A monarch, therefore, could not have friends. For they could not have loyalties. For all the devotion given to them, they could give none in return. They could offer no favouritism. And simply make choices based on what was true and right for the entirety of the kingdom... In that, it was the role of a monarch was to naturally be ungracious.
Persephone wasn't entirely sure what she was to make of this situation - particularly that which pertained to Iris. She remembered the first time that the two of them had stood within this chamber; the sense of camaraderie and sisterhood that had begun to weave its strands. She had understood in that moment that Iris loved the concept of family. That her familial ties were powerful. One had to only look around such chamber to know this; the memories and carefully cultivated connections to a lost mother that graced every surface and corner. She knew that the woman before her was scared for the safety of those she loved.
But, in contrast to this... she had not asked Iris for her loyalty. She had not asked the House of Argyris to place their necks upon Elias' chopping block, nor asked them to become her shield. She had come to their home only a short while ago and simply sought sanctuary for a few days so that she might find a way to reach her sister. She had never asked for them to show solidarity in her claim to a throne that so many wished she had never received.
In this, Iason was right. They had chosen this. It was they that now turned to her for an answer and the rewards due for a loyalty she had never enforced or requested. And there was a sense of sharpness... of offence in the manner in which Iris now seemed to hold her at sword point; determining that she never forget the unsolicited efforts made that had placed her family in such a precarious position.
Rising to her feel with a slow elegance, her features set in a hard line, her tone was one of calm reflection and open dialogue; the kind of tone she used during political negotiations.
"I don't believe that I have ever given cause for you to believe that I act upon anything without due care and consideration, Iris." She stated calmly. "And it should go against every instinct within me to place those I claim as friends into any sort of danger." Her eyes narrowed a little. "But you cannot request of me to instigate a civil war upon your words alone - however trustworthy the source may be. Whilst I believe your faith in your own words, the experiences of others may be different. If I am to drown Athenia in the threat of bloodshed it will be done with a clear conscience and an informed mind. I must go to the capitol. Regardless of any risks that I am unable to mitigate." For the safety of Iris' family was, when posed in contrast, worth less than the safety of the entire nation. And Persephone would not risk the second without risking the first to ensure that such violence was entirely necessary.
"I shall save you the permission of your dismissal and attend to bed now. I thank you for whatever resources you can provide me."
And with a sense of dignity, and a renewed understanding of something her father had once said, Persephone turned and left the chamber, her bare feet taking her back towards the chamber in which Iason slept.
King Minas had once said... the head that wore the crown could not hold friends. They had those that were loyal and those that were trustworthy. But, in a position of rule, decisions were to be made that would eventually place every single one of those into a role of danger or weakness. And such friends would not thank you for it. A monarch, therefore, could not have friends. For they could not have loyalties. For all the devotion given to them, they could give none in return. They could offer no favouritism. And simply make choices based on what was true and right for the entirety of the kingdom... In that, it was the role of a monarch was to naturally be ungracious.