He didn't release her until they were inside with the door firmly shut behind them, all but throwing her forward as he glared after her, the blood of the man still dripping from his sword and hands. She had the nerve to scream at him now, no doubt waking the entire mansion with her cries. Advancing on her with the weapon still drawn, he kept his stony silence as she continued to pelt him with hatred. Her declaration that the man he'd killed was innocent barely registered in his mind at the moment, the drink giving him conviction that he was in the right in this moment. After all, the baron wouldn't lie to him about who the man had been.

"I've killed many people before, and I will kill them again."

It was as if she had forgotten what his purpose was, supporting his brother in their campaigns, defending against those who would try to attack. A sword, a bow, none of it was strange in his hand, and being drenched in the blood of his enemies was entirely normal for him. He scoffed at her claim to love him. If she loved him how could she do this to him, if she loved him why would he feel as if he had been awakened from a spell, a spell that she had clearly cast. This wasn't love, it was a trap.

"Who am I? I'm the man who woke up. The one who realized that the spell you cast on me nearly took my life. The one who had been struggling with everything that you were and had finally, finally thought perhaps I was wrong and that you truly loved me, but before I could say anything you do this."

This time it was his sword that was flung, crashing into the floor and further causing a ruckus to wake those around them, his voice raising with an anguish and confusion, pain and bitterness and regret all mingling.

"I was beginning to believe I loved you, truly. That the mistakes I'd made in the past, we made, were just that. Mistakes. And now? Give me one reason why I shouldn't ask my father to end our marriage."

Vangelis had been unable to sleep for several days. It appeared to him that, while excessive exercise was the way to ensure sleep, limited use of the body had the opposing effect. While his recovery from his injuries at been going well - and at over 5 weeks now, he would have certainly hoped so - Vangelis had been unable to do more than a few hours of strenuous exercise a day. Back in his life before the storm, he would have been working his muscles hard from sun up to sun down - be it through regime and protocols, drills with his men, or just keeping up his own fitness and physical combat skills. Either way he was always exhausted when he went to sleep. Nowadays, his body was awake and unused and it was near impossible for him to fall into slumber before the early hours of the morning.

Instead, he worked through the paperwork of his duties and tasks as Crown Prince. Zanon had continued to take on the physical role for him in meeting with senators, handling shipments, or making inspections were his presence was physically required. No injury, no matter how well healed, should be witnessed by the people on the crown prince of the kingdom... but his family had been unable to keep the workaholic eldest son away from his duties entirely, and he was responsible for keeping up with all of the paperwork required from Zanon's work - therefore keeping his knowledge of his kingdom up-to-date and effective.

As the night had grown from dusky grey to pitch black, however, Vangelis had reached his limit of sitting at the desk in his bed chamber and had, instead, headed out onto his balcony.

The feeling of being cooped up inside his rooms had become a new one for him. Vangelis had rarely ever had to spend more time in them than it took for him to get up, dress and equip himself for the day - then repeat the process in reverse at night. The rest of the time he was outside, working or acting - doing something with his day.

As he set his hands on the balustrade that ran the length of the balcony, Vangelis considered the idea that he hadn't even enjoyed being in his rooms for the little time he did spend in them. He was more familiar with the balcony than he was with his bed; given how often he would wander out onto it, brace his forearms on the low wall and look out over his city and his kingdom.

From his perch, Vangelis could see the entirety of Midas, all of the different levels, winding their way down the mountainside... and beyond it, the curve of the Port. If he leaned out over the wall, he could look almost around the mountains and catch glimpses of the grass land of some of their closest provincial neighbours.

It was as he was leaning out to look that a movement directly below - one he would not have seen had he not had his head and shoulders over the perimeter of the balcony - caught his eye.

It was a flash of some kind of light.

Adjusting his eyes from the bright lanterns and candles that lit up the windows of the city below, and turning his attention fully to the dark courtyard outside the front of the Kotas manor, Vangelis realised that the flash of light had been hair. The moonlight shining on a flowing curtain of hair as black as night.

All of his family were brunette, but the Kotas genes produced hair tones in the browns - not the glossy midnight of a crow's feathers. There was only one person who lived in the Kotas manor, who would have been allowed past the guards at the gate.

The Lady Evras...

His eyes narrowing, Vangelis looked closer and quickly identified the man with her as anyone but his brother. He had grown up with Zanon. Could identify his height and stature and frame from a single glance. He could do the same with all of his siblings. And that man was too broad in shoulder, too low in height and had an entirely different walk. It was not Zanon.

Frowning, Vangelis lent further into the dark so that he could watch what was happening directly below him.

As events unfolded, he felt a myriad of emotions pass through him. Of anger, betrayal, exasperation, confusion... some were felt on behalf of his brother, some on behalf of his family. Others based solely on the pride of being the head of his House and having someone insult their honour and dignity by stepping out and kissing the wife of one of its members, regardless of whether that member was his brother or not.

When he saw Zanon look out on a level below himself, see the kiss and then disappear inside, Vangelis knew trouble was about to occur and every instinct he had told him to go and fight by his brother's side. Instead, his military mind had him staying where he was in order to witness what happened next.

This was a political issue as well as a personal one - he was not needed to fight for his brother's honour. He would be needed to keep the peace. And if he needed to, he could always call from his position, attract their attention somehow...

As such, Vangelis was witness to the happenings down in the courtyard. All of it, he watched and saw. From his position high above them, Vangelis noticed the switch out for the slave. He was tempted to step in at that point, to save an innocent man. But he hesitated, unsure what it would mean for the support of the House of Kotas if he basically encouraged the execution of the second son of Valaoritis. That hesitation - regardless of the decision he would have made in the end - meant that no such choice was available as Zanon was as swift as he was harsh in meting out judgement on the false villain. Vangelis had only the time to open his mouth before the man was already dead.

As the party of four split into two pairs and separated - the couple that were a part of his family heading inside the manor, Vangelis left his watchful perch and hurried across his room.

His movements now were not fluid but they were effective. He didn't hurt unless he moved excessively or for longer periods of time, now. Which meant he was able to hasten across the room, fling open his door and speed down the corridor with only the smallest of limps.

By the time he reached the first flight of stairs, the shouting had begun in the foyer. By the time he had sped along the second-floor corridor, his brother Silas had joined him. Yiannis would have not been far behind if it wasn't for the fact that he slept like the dead. His mother and Athanasia were next when he reached first storey.

By the time he was at the main stairs leading down into the foyer and could see the married couple below him, the entire house - minus his comatose middle brother - had been awoken. Including, Vangelis noticed with a heavy heart across the landing... Dion. Who stood nervously at the railing across from him, watching his parents yelling at one another with wide eyes. Both of them seemed too preoccupied with their threats and insults that they had not noticed their son, frightening and scared above them.

"That's enough!"

The words that left Vangelis' mouth were not premeditated or planned. They simply punched out of his chest in a booming command that blasted through the foyer. Every voice halted, every pair of eyes looked his way. He thought he spotted a shine to Dion's eyes that was not normal.

Fuelled by anger but controlled by his decades of training as a military commander - that, and the fact that it hadn't been his wife kissing another man on the porch of their home - Vangelis spoke with a burning baritone that hinted at finely held rage.

"Mother, take Dion to your rooms." He told the Queen, his hand pointing to the young boy across the landing, in case he was the only one to have spotted his nephew so far. "You're not to let him out or anyone else in, until I come to see you, am I clear?"

In some families, his direct tone with his mother might have been out of place. But this was the Kotas family. A family of military men. Queen Yanni was a strong and confident woman who ruled with grace and intelligence. But when it came to chaos, to violence or to decisions to be made in the heat of moments such as these, the men of the family were the commanding presence. It was they that led. Coupled with the fact that Vangelis was both the eldest and the leader of the House of Kotas and that his father was currently outside of the kingdom - Vangelis was the highest authority on Colchis, barring none. And his words were law.

His mother quickly heeded without embarrassment or issue, respecting her son's choices and authority. Instead, she hurried across the landing, her night gown streaming out behind her and then swooped down upon the eleven-year-old like a mother swan. Encouraging him away from the now eerily quiet foyer, Vangelis knew that his mother would hold to his instructions. None of his siblings, nor the boy's parents would be permitted to see Dion until Vangelis stated otherwise. He wasn't about to allow them to use the kid as a tool or weapon against one another.

"Silas, go to bed." Was his next instruction to his family. "Take Asia with you."

Another of his relatives adhered to his orders without question.

Had Vangelis been in a calmer frame of mind, he might have noticed the shock on Asia's features but he did not have the clairvoyance in this moment to realise that he had never behaved this way in front of anyone but Zanon and Yiannis - only his two eldest brothers and his father had ever seen him at his most damning. At his most commanding. With eyes of fire and the tone of Hades. It was his normal appearance at home - free of excessive emotions or smiles - that had given him the nom of Stone Prince. It was this voice and bearing that had given him the title of Blood General.

Heading quickly down the stairs, his limp almost unnoticeable, Vangelis strode over to his brother and sister-in-law with the fire of purpose. As he went he kicked Zanon's sword - the one he had discarded on the floor - across the tiles with a skittering clatter, further away from the fighting couple. His glare sent the servants who had been roused back to their beds before he turned back towards his brother and his wife.

The first thing Vangelis did was haul back and slug his brother clean in the face, his fist connecting with jaw and sending Zanon reeling, causing several feet of space between the husband and wife.

He then whirled to get up in the personal space of Evras, his ringer raised threateningly.

"I stay my hand with you, not through loyalty but out of respect of your gender." He told her with a darkness in his gaze. He narrowed his eyes at her in hatred and disgust. "You will go to my chambers." He told her. "Now!"

The last word was shouted in her face, his control slipping in his anger at the way she had allowed her husband to be treated. She might not have been the one to instigate the kiss - a face he had been able to see from his balcony. But she was a smart woman. She could have picked up on his intentions, would have seen him leaning in. She made the choice not to distance herself, not to turn her head or raise a hand. Whatever issues she had with her husband, they had clearly caused her to lose her mind and disrespect both her man and his family - his family. Regardless of previous behaviour such lack of self-preservation - such a lack of care in how she behaved around other men, but unacceptable in a woman.

Yet, he also knew that his brother had been an idiot for the last few years.

He had no idea what had happened between them, what had caused their strife and ensuing chasm. But he had witnessed Lady Evras shrink into herself, become less lively and less in love with her husband and family with each return to his home over the last few years. Something had happened that Zanon had not fixed. Not after years of issue. And while no reason - no element or insult excused adultery in the wife of a royal prince - he was not about to see his brother as innocent in this either.

As Evras reacted his command, Vangelis turned back to the brother he had just struck in the face and felt his chest expand and his shoulders stretch as he took a moment to assert his authority now that the conversation was solely between the two of them.

"What the hell are you doing, brother mine?"

It was a nice night out, with the crisp air and clear night skies, for the first time in a long while Asia thought about going night hunting. The silence that filled the air when the sun went down soothed her more than it scared her. Most would say that for that she wasn't exactly normal but to Asia, it was relaxing to be surrounded by the dark in the woods. Dressed in her usual chiton for hunting, her only concession for the night that she wore a small covering that added sleeves and warmth to her outfit before donning her bow and quiver.


As the bow settled over her shoulder, there was a loud shout that filled the night air and disturbed any peace that anyone could possibly find. "What, in the gods' name, is going on?" For a brief moment, the thought that they were being raided filled Asia's mind. Terror filled thoughts of nightmarish people destroying her home and hurting her family, fueling her need for her dagger as she reached out and wrapped her fingers around the hilt and made her way down the hall. It was there that her mother met her in the hallway, looking at Asia's outfit and having a bow with surprise that switched to annoyed disapproval just as the shouting match grew even louder, making them both move even quicker as they met Dion and Vangelis on the first floor. The chaos below was that, pure chaos. From what Asia could see the anger between the wedded couple had finally boiled over, and as she saw the blood on Evra's face, Asia found that she felt anger towards her brother.


Did he hurt her? What was going on? It was then that Vangelis shouted and brought everyone to silence, it was almost as if the night's peace was never broken if you didn't pay attention to the sudden tension in the air. Just as Asia was about to say something, shocked into silence as she was, Van started giving out orders and everyone followed. It was hard not to follow when Asia finally realized that her nephew was about to cry, feeling like an ass for not noticing sooner, inciting her rage all the more. How could they argue like this in front of their son? Didn't his feelings matter? Did they care? With the sight of the blood on Evras' face, Asia wondered if she could put the blame all on Zanon, but for that, she blamed both for all the screaming.


It was her turn, Silas grabbing her arm to pull her away as Van had ordered, but Asia jerked her arm away as she pulled her bow over her head. The bow that Zanon had given her so many years ago. Looking over at Zanon, her anger showing clear in her eyes for her brother even as she still loved him with all her heart, she threw the empty bow at his feet. Keeping the quiver full of arrows, she turned quickly away so no one would see any of her rage-filled tears as Silas grabbed her arm again to guide her away, it was the one and only thing that she wished she could change about herself. They were still yelling, Vangelis' voice louder than them all, she heard him yell at Evras to go to his room and stay there which gave Asia an idea. "I am so sorry Silas." It was her only warning, quick and exactly like Nike had taught her, Asia stomped on her brother's foot. As she stomped, she rolled her body, using gravity to help her as she rolled to the point that Silas was either going to break her arm or let her go, thankfully he let her go as he held his foot. It was a risk, a risk that Asia was willing to take, as she bolted for Vangelis' room. Was it the luck of the gods? Or was she just now even faster than before? As she ran, she made it to Vangelis' room just as Evras did, pushing her into the room and locking the door behind them both.

She had heard Zanon's last words as she left. He doubted the paternity of his own son? When she had laid with no one else but him? Just how far was he going to go? Evras was just beginning to question just how far was she going to allow him to go, before she finally bit her love for him and tossed it awy, when a loud yell came from behind. Evras started, just about to turn around to see where the commotion came from when a force pushed her in to the room, causing the fair-skinned woman to stumble in, almost falling had she not caught herself on a chair.

Hearing the lock click, she turned to the back, and froze when she saw the figure of Athanasia. Back when she had first married into the family, she had been on good terms with young Athanasia, who had been but a young 8 year old. She had watched the young girl grow up, and had a very soft spot for the young girl... until Zanon had decided to renounce all connection to his wife by outright snubbing her presence.

Athanasia had followed suit - which was perhaps the most heartbreaking, that her husband's desertion had resulted in more then one relationship being taken away from her.

Call it her fraught emotions after a very taxing evening, while Evras was not regularly a girl who cried, her emotions were frayed enough that the moment the silence came at the close of the door, her eyes brimmed, and the tears spilled over and down her cheek. "He dared say Dion isn't his son, Asia." her soft voice murmured, as the strength fled her body and her knees gave out. Evras fell heavily in the chair, crouched over her knees, her body shivering. "He... Maybe he just never loved me to begin with."

Vangelis felt torn.

He had always respected his brother. All of them in fact. But most especially Zanon. Yiannis was too impulsive and needed corralling, Silas was still young and had not yet matured into the man he would one day become. Zanon was closed in age to the eldest and had long since became the final version of himself - one that Vangelis could and did respect and honour. There was no-one he would have rather had at his side in time of war or politics. In anything. From a fist fight in a tavern to a courtly game of verbal chess. Zanon was his second, through and through.

Which meant half of him ached and bled for him. The man was in pain, in turmoil over his marriage, in confusion over his son and in a personal spiral of self-destruction since his injury three years ago. An injury Vangelis had always known about - he had been the one to go and bring his brother back from the medical tent on the battlefield, back to their home. But he had never known the thought process or the blame that the man had placed on his wife because of it.

All he knew, was that Zanon's life and relationship with Evras had gradually disintegrated into a destructive outlet of emotions for the last three years. And it now culminated in him whimpering on the floor from his inner anguish.

And the half of him that was the man's brother wept for him.

The half of Vangelis that was the man's leader - his Head of House, his Crown Prince... wanted to scream at Zanon. To call him all kinds of idiot from dawn until dusk, to beat him over the head with a blunt instrument until he started talking sense again.

The thoughts and fears the man was spewing were only coming out with belief behind them because Zanon had allowed them to fester for so long, to ingrain themselves into his mind. Had the Zanon of three years ago heard himself now he would have laughed at the insanity of it all.

Vangelis didn't laugh. Instead, he reached forward without mercy and grabbed at his brother's tunic. With the leather bunched in the strong grip of his left hand, he hauled his brother to his feet and then yanked him towards the front doors.

Without a word, Vangelis pushed open the doors to the main foyer and then pulled and dragged Zanon - mostly backwards, given that his grip was on the back of his tunic - across the courtyard, away from the corpse still laying out on their front grounds (Vangelis would have to deal with that later), around the manor and towards the open plains of grass that were the Kotas family's riding gardens. The small woodland area they had over part of their flat land - carved out of the mountainside - was dark and shadowy in the distance and the grass glittered in the moonlight with its late-night dew.

With a hauling motion, Vangelis threw Zanon forward, intent on him losing his footing entirely and falling onto the ground, onto the wet grass.

Normally, he wouldn't have been able to man-handle his brother in such a way. Zanon was almost the same height as Vangelis and while of a slightly slimmer build was wicked fast and just as capable in hand to hand combat. He was no pushover. But right now, in this moment, he was weak with emotion and exhaustion from three years of hard marriage and Vangelis was strong with anger.

As his brother hit the ground Vangelis kicked out at his book.

"Get up, Zanon." He told the man. "Get up!"

Pointing an angry finger at him he then motioned for the man to come forward.

"You're angry and you're not thinking clearly." He told him, making another beckoning gesture with his hand. "Come one... hit me." He told him. "You want to take all this rage out on someone you take it out on me - you don't bring your wife into it and you certainly don't kill a man on our front porch!"

Expecting the man's hesitation, he shouted at him to rouse his anger, knowing they were too far into their own grounds for anyone to hear.

"Come on you idiot. Imagine it was me." His eyes narrowed. "I did it - I was the one who kissed Evras. I was the one who touched your wife. In plain view of everyone. Right in front of you. Kissed her like she was mine!

The princess was apologetic, but the tone barely registered through the roar of blood in Evras's ears, trying and failing to hold in her tears that bubbled forth. The longer Athanasia talked, the more her words seem to surface in Evras's conscious, and through the tears despite herself, Evras let out a laugh, even if it sounded hollow and dry in her ears. The memory of the argumentative dinner they had had just a few weeks earlier had been amusing and at least enjoyable in her seemingly bleak life in the Kotas residences.

But the humor was lost on her, lost in all the pain that now gripped at her at the final stake her husband had just driven through her heart. She had believed before this that maybe, just maybe it had been her mistake that Zanon had decided to start sowing his wild oats again. That perhaps if she waited it out, he would see sense again. She wanted so desperately to believe that he loved her, at least a little. That the reason why they had gotten married still lingered.

Whatever was left of that belief was dashed the moment he doubted Dion's parentage. A fight of indignance and pain had blossomed at his accusation, along with the hurt that simply intensified. Evras had never, in her life, even considered laying with anyone else after Zanon had come along. If she had a fault, it was her loyalty to those she loves. Mihail had always pointed it out. Now she wondered if her loyalty to her husband was misplaced.

A wry, disbelieving and almost bitter laugh, a kind that was uncharacteristic of Evras escpaed when Athanasia insisted that Zanon loved her. She found that extremely hard to believe at this point. "We remain because of Dion, Asia. I will not delude myself any further. There is no longer love between us. At least not for him." her tone dripped with pain and sarcasm, as she gripped her fists on her knees. "If he trusted me, he would never have believed them in the first place."

Athanasia's hug was a surprise, but Evras was too shell shocked to even register and act on the surprise. Merely sunk into the younger girl's embrace, as if all the fight had left her. Her head hurt, pounding behind her eyes from all the screaming and tears that had burned their way down her cheek. Reaching up, the fair-skinned elder woman lay a comforting hand on Asia, and with a shaky voice, managed to speak. "Do not be sorry, Asia. You were only loyal to your brother. I... Never mind."

Letting her hand fall, she let it curl into her chiton, gripping tightly as if somehow doing that would release all the frustration out to a different source. "I'm sorry if we woke you up, my sweet." Evras reverted to an old endearment she used for the young sister back when they had been more familiar. "You should go back. I... do not wish you to be around when your eldest brother comes to speak to me."

Zanon's charge of fury knocked Vangelis clean off his feet. Then again, he did little to avoid the strike and had had no intention of putting up a defence or blocking his brother of the catharsis he so desperately seemed to need.

Allowing his younger brother to take him to the ground, Vangelis's breath left him in a heavy oof that would have turned into a groan, had he allowed his thoughts to register the pain the fall had caused. One side effect of battling in hand to hand combat, though? You learnt to compartmentalise. To pack away every thought, feeling and bodily sensation - such as pain, doubt and worry - and focus on only the task at hand. The task of self-preservation.

So, instead of moaning on the floor like a wet-behind the ears infantry soldier, Vangelis kept his expletives to himself and raised his arms in a practised manner - one that shielded the front of his body from harm as Zanon let loose all of his frustration.

Vangelis ensured no heavy blows were dealt to any of his more delicate areas since the cave in, by making certain they were hard to reach for Zanon's drunken attacks. But it didn't stop the man's assault from hurting. His brother was a trained fighter, just like him, and he knew how to land a punch with more force than his thinner frame should warrant. He was also angry beyond measure and Vangelis knew how such passion could drive a man to be stronger than he might otherwise have managed.

As Vangelis felt the blows start to die off and slow in frequency, he wondered if Zanon had tired himself out physically or had just exerted so much emotion that he could no longer raise an arm or hand in vehemence.

Perhaps he had simply come to his senses and realised that Vangelis was not the one who had been kissing his wife and that he was no the victim Zanon truly wanted for his aggression. But was, instead, his beloved brother.

Though judging from the stench of stale wine on the man's breath, Vangelis could hardly help but believe this to be an unlikely eventuality.

Instead, given the sobs that had started to wrack his brother's body, Vangelis suspected that Zanon was simply tired to his core.

Tired of a marriage that was clearly going no-where (Dion was still an only child at eleven years old) and tired of feeling emotions that were so clearly stamped across his face. Across that and in every muscle, he had engaged to strike out at the Head of his House - his older brother - for the sake of defending his wife's honour and claiming her for his own, even if the mirage Vangelis had painted in his mind, with his taunting words.

Either way - whatever the reason - the result was as Vangelis had hoped for. His brother's attack slowed, he could hear him gasping for breath around the hiccups of drunken emotion, and he seemed to reach a depressing and dismal conclusion in his own mind - that his path forward was too dark to make out.

As soon as true hesitation came into Zanon's movements, Vangelis moved with a strike faster than his brother could ever defend against in his inebriated state and, with a hook at the ankle and a twist at his shoulder, the map was flipped to one side. This time it was Zanon's back that hit the damp grass.

Rolling up and onto his knees, Vangelis settled on knee cap in the centre of his brother's chest and pressed his weight into it. Not hard, not enough to stunt breath, but enough to keep him in place and have his gaze focused on his big brother.

Taking a moment to calm his own breaths, Vangelis reached back and plucked the material away from his back, where the autumn chill of the lawns had seeped into his clothes. He felt a sharp iciness run down his spine as the fabric was released and he wondered whether or not the sensation was pure night-time temperature, or an ominous premonition of his brother's future and how important it was for his next words to be the right ones...

"You are an idiot." He told the man.

Screw the right words... this isn't my battle and he needs to fix it himself.

"Father will never dissolve your marriage. Not with Dion the only heir to the crown. You'll bastardise him. Your own son." Vangelis pressed his knee a little harder, ignoring the sharp flurries of pain shooting up his thigh. "You won't do it in the morn, no matter how much your anger fuels your words tonight."

As Zanon raised a hand to try and shove Vangelis away, the eldest Kotas slapped it away, sending the arm out wide and Zanon's hand falling outwards in defeat.

"You had better tell me what in the hell is really going on here, Zanon." He ordered the man. "Because I am not getting up until I know why my nephew is being subjected to you and your wife's bouts of lunacy." His eyes narrowed. "There are no such thing as witches and spells. You speak blasphemy to the Gods for thinking such things. What nonsense planted that seed, of all things?"

Vangelis might have been in pain - so one part of his brain was trying to tell him - but his gaze was firm and sharp, and his jaw set in a determined look his brother would know well. Vangelis was a lot of things, but a breaker of his word was not one of them. He was not moving until he had some answers.