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She should have been better about this situation than she was acting, Olena kept reminding herself of that fact. It was not as if she hadn't spent years apart, thinking he was dead. They had been separated for most of their lives now. So the feeling of being together again should have had a newness to it. It should have felt far more awkward to have him again that it was to be alone. And yet, it was as if she had always been with him now, as if her status as a fugitive was long behind them and not only a few months in the past. They had found some happiness, brief but profound. And now, it was like she was a child again.
But she couldn't scream his name as she had pinned under the pirate who took everything from her. She couldn't focus on the pain like she had before, as it was too raw to try and use that to cope. And she had no physical pain to draw from, left with only the uneasiness in her stomach and the fear in her heart. For while they had been separated into unknown paths before, this felt far less certain. His death had been a fact in her mind before, one that she had to accept to try and do something more with what she'd been given. Now, he was so close to her with no clue of her condition that it ate away at her. She could not look at this like she had when they were children.
The nightmares didn't help, not when it was the man she loved being tortured by the uncertainty in her mind. She would wake with a scream on her tongue, her face wet the tears she couldn't cry during the waking hours. Olena was trying to be strong, to be a lady. But the rug had been pulled from under her feet and she was barely making it.
She found herself in a ball outside of the bathing rooms. It was late, as they had been home for a day since she'd discovered the truth. Having spent most of the day in the room they had shared before he left, Olena had waited until the house slept before she made her way to the baths. She’d entered into the steaming room, able to sink to her chest in water before the vivid memory of almost drowning took over. She couldn't breath, trying to remember that the pool was shallow.
As quickly as she was in, she was out. Wrapping herself in Dima’s wool shirt and himation, she dropped to the floor outside the room. It was impossible to gather her thoughts. One minute, she would be fine, the next the storm of emotions would rip through her and she couldn't separate the fake from reality. Head settled into her knees, the hyperventilating had slowed into normal breathing. But she Had been unable to find the strength to stand. She was exhausted, worn from the typhoon of emotions that had taken control.
Her mind was buzzing, so it was no wonder she didn't realize she was joined by anyone. Had she been paying better attention, it would have been plain that the heavy steps belonged to that of Lord Iason. But she could hear nothing over the hum in her ears and the rushing of her heart.
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She should have been better about this situation than she was acting, Olena kept reminding herself of that fact. It was not as if she hadn't spent years apart, thinking he was dead. They had been separated for most of their lives now. So the feeling of being together again should have had a newness to it. It should have felt far more awkward to have him again that it was to be alone. And yet, it was as if she had always been with him now, as if her status as a fugitive was long behind them and not only a few months in the past. They had found some happiness, brief but profound. And now, it was like she was a child again.
But she couldn't scream his name as she had pinned under the pirate who took everything from her. She couldn't focus on the pain like she had before, as it was too raw to try and use that to cope. And she had no physical pain to draw from, left with only the uneasiness in her stomach and the fear in her heart. For while they had been separated into unknown paths before, this felt far less certain. His death had been a fact in her mind before, one that she had to accept to try and do something more with what she'd been given. Now, he was so close to her with no clue of her condition that it ate away at her. She could not look at this like she had when they were children.
The nightmares didn't help, not when it was the man she loved being tortured by the uncertainty in her mind. She would wake with a scream on her tongue, her face wet the tears she couldn't cry during the waking hours. Olena was trying to be strong, to be a lady. But the rug had been pulled from under her feet and she was barely making it.
She found herself in a ball outside of the bathing rooms. It was late, as they had been home for a day since she'd discovered the truth. Having spent most of the day in the room they had shared before he left, Olena had waited until the house slept before she made her way to the baths. She’d entered into the steaming room, able to sink to her chest in water before the vivid memory of almost drowning took over. She couldn't breath, trying to remember that the pool was shallow.
As quickly as she was in, she was out. Wrapping herself in Dima’s wool shirt and himation, she dropped to the floor outside the room. It was impossible to gather her thoughts. One minute, she would be fine, the next the storm of emotions would rip through her and she couldn't separate the fake from reality. Head settled into her knees, the hyperventilating had slowed into normal breathing. But she Had been unable to find the strength to stand. She was exhausted, worn from the typhoon of emotions that had taken control.
Her mind was buzzing, so it was no wonder she didn't realize she was joined by anyone. Had she been paying better attention, it would have been plain that the heavy steps belonged to that of Lord Iason. But she could hear nothing over the hum in her ears and the rushing of her heart.
She should have been better about this situation than she was acting, Olena kept reminding herself of that fact. It was not as if she hadn't spent years apart, thinking he was dead. They had been separated for most of their lives now. So the feeling of being together again should have had a newness to it. It should have felt far more awkward to have him again that it was to be alone. And yet, it was as if she had always been with him now, as if her status as a fugitive was long behind them and not only a few months in the past. They had found some happiness, brief but profound. And now, it was like she was a child again.
But she couldn't scream his name as she had pinned under the pirate who took everything from her. She couldn't focus on the pain like she had before, as it was too raw to try and use that to cope. And she had no physical pain to draw from, left with only the uneasiness in her stomach and the fear in her heart. For while they had been separated into unknown paths before, this felt far less certain. His death had been a fact in her mind before, one that she had to accept to try and do something more with what she'd been given. Now, he was so close to her with no clue of her condition that it ate away at her. She could not look at this like she had when they were children.
The nightmares didn't help, not when it was the man she loved being tortured by the uncertainty in her mind. She would wake with a scream on her tongue, her face wet the tears she couldn't cry during the waking hours. Olena was trying to be strong, to be a lady. But the rug had been pulled from under her feet and she was barely making it.
She found herself in a ball outside of the bathing rooms. It was late, as they had been home for a day since she'd discovered the truth. Having spent most of the day in the room they had shared before he left, Olena had waited until the house slept before she made her way to the baths. She’d entered into the steaming room, able to sink to her chest in water before the vivid memory of almost drowning took over. She couldn't breath, trying to remember that the pool was shallow.
As quickly as she was in, she was out. Wrapping herself in Dima’s wool shirt and himation, she dropped to the floor outside the room. It was impossible to gather her thoughts. One minute, she would be fine, the next the storm of emotions would rip through her and she couldn't separate the fake from reality. Head settled into her knees, the hyperventilating had slowed into normal breathing. But she Had been unable to find the strength to stand. She was exhausted, worn from the typhoon of emotions that had taken control.
Her mind was buzzing, so it was no wonder she didn't realize she was joined by anyone. Had she been paying better attention, it would have been plain that the heavy steps belonged to that of Lord Iason. But she could hear nothing over the hum in her ears and the rushing of her heart.
His discussions with Persephone had been concerning, and though he still wanted to hope for the best, he was now bracing himself to go to war. While he had the military training of any Taengean nobleman, and a decently steady head on his shoulders, he had never been one who longed for the adrenaline rush of battle. It would fall to him to lead along with the other supporters of the queen, since she would be incapable to riding into the fight herself. He would never speak it aloud, but deep down he wished that the letter from Aimias had never found its way to them. If they hadn't known Emilia was alive, perhaps their marriage would have been settled and different steps could have been taken, different from the moves that he was beginning to fear were irrational.
Coming back to Athenia in such a hurry and without any kind of intelligence o backup had not been his favorite idea. But she had insisted, and instead of letting her go alone he had been determined to stay by her side and keep her safe as she charged headlong into the unknown. Even then, he'd had a hope that perhaps she would be content with seeing her sister, maybe even bringing her back to Taengea, and leaving Athenia to whatever it had chosen. His betrothed however seemed to be quite confident in the idea that she had to be the one to lead. Whether it was true or foolish he had yet to see.
The loss of Demetrius to the prisons of Elias had been a blow he wasn't expecting. The gladiator had been by his side since they had fled from Athenia the first time, and while the man was quiet, almost skittish, he had been nothing but a faithful and supportive presence. And when he bought Olena into their lives and shown another side to himself entirely, Iason thought that perhaps the sight of two people so completely devoted and in love might have given some inspiration to his own relationship. Now that had been devastated, and he felt the responsibility of caring for Olena fall on him. She might have been Persephone's maid, but he had promised the gladiator no harm would come to her while he was away.
As if his thoughts caused the gods to set her in his way, Iason was surprised to find her curled up outside the door to the baths, and the guilt seized at his heart once more. She should be in the arms of her love, as he ought to be in his own. The way she was breathing he couldn't tell if she was crying or in some other distress, but his brow furrowed as he moved to her side and went down on his knees. Hands lifted but didn't touch, knowing only that her life had not been kind before she and Dima had been brought together again and unwilling to startle or hurt her further.
"Olena, are you well?"
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His discussions with Persephone had been concerning, and though he still wanted to hope for the best, he was now bracing himself to go to war. While he had the military training of any Taengean nobleman, and a decently steady head on his shoulders, he had never been one who longed for the adrenaline rush of battle. It would fall to him to lead along with the other supporters of the queen, since she would be incapable to riding into the fight herself. He would never speak it aloud, but deep down he wished that the letter from Aimias had never found its way to them. If they hadn't known Emilia was alive, perhaps their marriage would have been settled and different steps could have been taken, different from the moves that he was beginning to fear were irrational.
Coming back to Athenia in such a hurry and without any kind of intelligence o backup had not been his favorite idea. But she had insisted, and instead of letting her go alone he had been determined to stay by her side and keep her safe as she charged headlong into the unknown. Even then, he'd had a hope that perhaps she would be content with seeing her sister, maybe even bringing her back to Taengea, and leaving Athenia to whatever it had chosen. His betrothed however seemed to be quite confident in the idea that she had to be the one to lead. Whether it was true or foolish he had yet to see.
The loss of Demetrius to the prisons of Elias had been a blow he wasn't expecting. The gladiator had been by his side since they had fled from Athenia the first time, and while the man was quiet, almost skittish, he had been nothing but a faithful and supportive presence. And when he bought Olena into their lives and shown another side to himself entirely, Iason thought that perhaps the sight of two people so completely devoted and in love might have given some inspiration to his own relationship. Now that had been devastated, and he felt the responsibility of caring for Olena fall on him. She might have been Persephone's maid, but he had promised the gladiator no harm would come to her while he was away.
As if his thoughts caused the gods to set her in his way, Iason was surprised to find her curled up outside the door to the baths, and the guilt seized at his heart once more. She should be in the arms of her love, as he ought to be in his own. The way she was breathing he couldn't tell if she was crying or in some other distress, but his brow furrowed as he moved to her side and went down on his knees. Hands lifted but didn't touch, knowing only that her life had not been kind before she and Dima had been brought together again and unwilling to startle or hurt her further.
"Olena, are you well?"
His discussions with Persephone had been concerning, and though he still wanted to hope for the best, he was now bracing himself to go to war. While he had the military training of any Taengean nobleman, and a decently steady head on his shoulders, he had never been one who longed for the adrenaline rush of battle. It would fall to him to lead along with the other supporters of the queen, since she would be incapable to riding into the fight herself. He would never speak it aloud, but deep down he wished that the letter from Aimias had never found its way to them. If they hadn't known Emilia was alive, perhaps their marriage would have been settled and different steps could have been taken, different from the moves that he was beginning to fear were irrational.
Coming back to Athenia in such a hurry and without any kind of intelligence o backup had not been his favorite idea. But she had insisted, and instead of letting her go alone he had been determined to stay by her side and keep her safe as she charged headlong into the unknown. Even then, he'd had a hope that perhaps she would be content with seeing her sister, maybe even bringing her back to Taengea, and leaving Athenia to whatever it had chosen. His betrothed however seemed to be quite confident in the idea that she had to be the one to lead. Whether it was true or foolish he had yet to see.
The loss of Demetrius to the prisons of Elias had been a blow he wasn't expecting. The gladiator had been by his side since they had fled from Athenia the first time, and while the man was quiet, almost skittish, he had been nothing but a faithful and supportive presence. And when he bought Olena into their lives and shown another side to himself entirely, Iason thought that perhaps the sight of two people so completely devoted and in love might have given some inspiration to his own relationship. Now that had been devastated, and he felt the responsibility of caring for Olena fall on him. She might have been Persephone's maid, but he had promised the gladiator no harm would come to her while he was away.
As if his thoughts caused the gods to set her in his way, Iason was surprised to find her curled up outside the door to the baths, and the guilt seized at his heart once more. She should be in the arms of her love, as he ought to be in his own. The way she was breathing he couldn't tell if she was crying or in some other distress, but his brow furrowed as he moved to her side and went down on his knees. Hands lifted but didn't touch, knowing only that her life had not been kind before she and Dima had been brought together again and unwilling to startle or hurt her further.
"Olena, are you well?"
Even with his best intentions, Olena still jumped as soon as he came into view. She pushed herself further against the wall, her breathing taking off again at its fast pace. Eyes closed, head shaking, she buried her head into the material in hopes that whoever was going to take her would leave her alone. It was a good thing he didn’t touch her, else she may have screamed without much explanation.
His voice broke through her panic, but while she relaxed, Olena still hid in the protection of his shirt. She knew that Iason would not hurt her. He had all but tried to shield her from any further pain once they had learned of Dima’s failure. And from what she had seen of him prior to that, she had known he was mostly a good man. Her history had made her cautious of all men, regardless of what she was told. Men usually meant abuse, meant that she had to give herself to them.
She did not trust men.
Men lied. Men broke promises, and on that front, Iason was just as guilty as the rest of them. Had he not promised to them that the letter would be a simple task? That it would bring them closer to being able to make a decision? Dima had told her to trust him. Had told her that it was a simple task that would bring him home. But they had been wrong-- they both had lied to her. But Dmytros had just been following the word of Iason, so his lie hadn’t felt so damaging.
Her hand flew to his cheek with power, far more than she had thought she could provide. Her hand stung as she flew to her feet, the bottom of Dima’s shirt barely covering her backside. “He trusted you!” It wasn’t a yell, but a loud whispered that was rough with emotion. Her eyes blazed with fire, hair damp around her shoulder. Even with her stinging hand, she grabbed the front of his chiton as if to hold him into place. “He trusted you! And now he is gone and it is your fault.”
There was a sob on her lips, raw as she felt the reality of it all crashing down on her. “What will I do without him now?” And even with her past history of men, even with how little she trusted then, Olena collapsed against him with another thick sob. Anything she said now was in her foreign tongue, but even to anyone who could speak it, it was barely intelligible.
Perhaps that was what it sounded like when a heart shattered.
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Even with his best intentions, Olena still jumped as soon as he came into view. She pushed herself further against the wall, her breathing taking off again at its fast pace. Eyes closed, head shaking, she buried her head into the material in hopes that whoever was going to take her would leave her alone. It was a good thing he didn’t touch her, else she may have screamed without much explanation.
His voice broke through her panic, but while she relaxed, Olena still hid in the protection of his shirt. She knew that Iason would not hurt her. He had all but tried to shield her from any further pain once they had learned of Dima’s failure. And from what she had seen of him prior to that, she had known he was mostly a good man. Her history had made her cautious of all men, regardless of what she was told. Men usually meant abuse, meant that she had to give herself to them.
She did not trust men.
Men lied. Men broke promises, and on that front, Iason was just as guilty as the rest of them. Had he not promised to them that the letter would be a simple task? That it would bring them closer to being able to make a decision? Dima had told her to trust him. Had told her that it was a simple task that would bring him home. But they had been wrong-- they both had lied to her. But Dmytros had just been following the word of Iason, so his lie hadn’t felt so damaging.
Her hand flew to his cheek with power, far more than she had thought she could provide. Her hand stung as she flew to her feet, the bottom of Dima’s shirt barely covering her backside. “He trusted you!” It wasn’t a yell, but a loud whispered that was rough with emotion. Her eyes blazed with fire, hair damp around her shoulder. Even with her stinging hand, she grabbed the front of his chiton as if to hold him into place. “He trusted you! And now he is gone and it is your fault.”
There was a sob on her lips, raw as she felt the reality of it all crashing down on her. “What will I do without him now?” And even with her past history of men, even with how little she trusted then, Olena collapsed against him with another thick sob. Anything she said now was in her foreign tongue, but even to anyone who could speak it, it was barely intelligible.
Perhaps that was what it sounded like when a heart shattered.
Even with his best intentions, Olena still jumped as soon as he came into view. She pushed herself further against the wall, her breathing taking off again at its fast pace. Eyes closed, head shaking, she buried her head into the material in hopes that whoever was going to take her would leave her alone. It was a good thing he didn’t touch her, else she may have screamed without much explanation.
His voice broke through her panic, but while she relaxed, Olena still hid in the protection of his shirt. She knew that Iason would not hurt her. He had all but tried to shield her from any further pain once they had learned of Dima’s failure. And from what she had seen of him prior to that, she had known he was mostly a good man. Her history had made her cautious of all men, regardless of what she was told. Men usually meant abuse, meant that she had to give herself to them.
She did not trust men.
Men lied. Men broke promises, and on that front, Iason was just as guilty as the rest of them. Had he not promised to them that the letter would be a simple task? That it would bring them closer to being able to make a decision? Dima had told her to trust him. Had told her that it was a simple task that would bring him home. But they had been wrong-- they both had lied to her. But Dmytros had just been following the word of Iason, so his lie hadn’t felt so damaging.
Her hand flew to his cheek with power, far more than she had thought she could provide. Her hand stung as she flew to her feet, the bottom of Dima’s shirt barely covering her backside. “He trusted you!” It wasn’t a yell, but a loud whispered that was rough with emotion. Her eyes blazed with fire, hair damp around her shoulder. Even with her stinging hand, she grabbed the front of his chiton as if to hold him into place. “He trusted you! And now he is gone and it is your fault.”
There was a sob on her lips, raw as she felt the reality of it all crashing down on her. “What will I do without him now?” And even with her past history of men, even with how little she trusted then, Olena collapsed against him with another thick sob. Anything she said now was in her foreign tongue, but even to anyone who could speak it, it was barely intelligible.
Perhaps that was what it sounded like when a heart shattered.
The small hand connecting with his face didn't hurt so much as it was entirely shocking. While he had known that Olena's life had not been kind and she feared many things, he hadn't ever known her to be violent or so furious. Then again, he had only known her in the company of a man who adored her and cared for her so tenderly he tried to prevent the outside world from touching her in the slightest. And he had been party to the effort that had taken him from her again. It had been a difficult conversation when Dima had told him the story of their past, before they had found her again it had been clear to see how much love and longing was there, and he had still allowed him to be sent into the flames.
If anything, he deserved far worse than a simple slap.
Her vitriol spat in his direction was met with a sorrowful expression, one he could not share in words. The other man had become a friend, trusted and as close to a confidant outside of his family as Iason got. It was an easy sort of companionship that allowed both men to sit with the silence they were most comfortable with. His hand touched at his jaw, wondering if it would leave mark that he would have to explain away.
"I know. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
None of her accusations were wrong. He had not been the one to write and send the letter, but he hadn't said anything against it. He'd been happy enough to let Persephone send Dima instead of anyone else, without even thinking about what would become of Olena if he didn't return. The promise of a pension for a soldier's wife would not keep her heart from hurting.
Iason allowed her to scream and cry, let her beat at his chest until she hid her face against it. Waiting a moment to see if she would pull away, he wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on the top of her head just as he did when Dorothea or Alexa had cried with him. It was a brotherly sort of affection he held for her, the girl taken from her home and flung through the winds and waves had lived a life opposite his own.
"You will always have my protection. And support. Never worry for your livelihood while you remain with us."
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The small hand connecting with his face didn't hurt so much as it was entirely shocking. While he had known that Olena's life had not been kind and she feared many things, he hadn't ever known her to be violent or so furious. Then again, he had only known her in the company of a man who adored her and cared for her so tenderly he tried to prevent the outside world from touching her in the slightest. And he had been party to the effort that had taken him from her again. It had been a difficult conversation when Dima had told him the story of their past, before they had found her again it had been clear to see how much love and longing was there, and he had still allowed him to be sent into the flames.
If anything, he deserved far worse than a simple slap.
Her vitriol spat in his direction was met with a sorrowful expression, one he could not share in words. The other man had become a friend, trusted and as close to a confidant outside of his family as Iason got. It was an easy sort of companionship that allowed both men to sit with the silence they were most comfortable with. His hand touched at his jaw, wondering if it would leave mark that he would have to explain away.
"I know. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
None of her accusations were wrong. He had not been the one to write and send the letter, but he hadn't said anything against it. He'd been happy enough to let Persephone send Dima instead of anyone else, without even thinking about what would become of Olena if he didn't return. The promise of a pension for a soldier's wife would not keep her heart from hurting.
Iason allowed her to scream and cry, let her beat at his chest until she hid her face against it. Waiting a moment to see if she would pull away, he wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on the top of her head just as he did when Dorothea or Alexa had cried with him. It was a brotherly sort of affection he held for her, the girl taken from her home and flung through the winds and waves had lived a life opposite his own.
"You will always have my protection. And support. Never worry for your livelihood while you remain with us."
The small hand connecting with his face didn't hurt so much as it was entirely shocking. While he had known that Olena's life had not been kind and she feared many things, he hadn't ever known her to be violent or so furious. Then again, he had only known her in the company of a man who adored her and cared for her so tenderly he tried to prevent the outside world from touching her in the slightest. And he had been party to the effort that had taken him from her again. It had been a difficult conversation when Dima had told him the story of their past, before they had found her again it had been clear to see how much love and longing was there, and he had still allowed him to be sent into the flames.
If anything, he deserved far worse than a simple slap.
Her vitriol spat in his direction was met with a sorrowful expression, one he could not share in words. The other man had become a friend, trusted and as close to a confidant outside of his family as Iason got. It was an easy sort of companionship that allowed both men to sit with the silence they were most comfortable with. His hand touched at his jaw, wondering if it would leave mark that he would have to explain away.
"I know. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
None of her accusations were wrong. He had not been the one to write and send the letter, but he hadn't said anything against it. He'd been happy enough to let Persephone send Dima instead of anyone else, without even thinking about what would become of Olena if he didn't return. The promise of a pension for a soldier's wife would not keep her heart from hurting.
Iason allowed her to scream and cry, let her beat at his chest until she hid her face against it. Waiting a moment to see if she would pull away, he wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on the top of her head just as he did when Dorothea or Alexa had cried with him. It was a brotherly sort of affection he held for her, the girl taken from her home and flung through the winds and waves had lived a life opposite his own.
"You will always have my protection. And support. Never worry for your livelihood while you remain with us."
There hadn’t been any desire for comfort or affection from this man. No, she wanted to hate him, like she hated the pirates who had taken them from their homes in the first place. She wanted to curse his name, burn effigies against him and his family, pray to her own gods that terror and horror might befall him.
Hate was such a safe emotion for her to fall back on. Hate protected her heart just as much as indifference did, for it allowed her to feel something. She had done indifference for so long, assisted by the teas and herbs given to numb her mind. Olena had relied on disassociation to get her through her struggles, through years and years of abuse, simply because she didn’t want to feel the pain that had been buried so deep within her heart.
So while it would have been easier to seek out those same means, to fall back into the numb existence she had once been okay with living, the redhead did her best to resist. And with that came passion, and anger-- emotions that she had been known for as a child. Her mother had always told her that the fire wasn’t only in her hair, but in her heart as well. And she had been quick to feel everything. Even now, no longer dependent on the remedies that depravity provided, she always jumped to her first instincts, feeling her emotions in the open. And then, as the fire simmered out, it allowed for her other emotions to take root. And this time, as her rage dwindled it morphed into grief.
The fire always revealed her true emotions in the end.
And while she had lacked a brother, she found the embrace that he gave her much like the ones she would get from Dima’s. Not the passionate touch of a lover, but a reassuring and kind one. Her arms snaked around his waist as her sobs slowed, letting herself find the comfort she needed from him. Yes, she had a gaggle of women in her life that would help her, that would make sure she was cared for. But in this world, it was a man who decided your fate. To know that, for the first time in a long time, she had one on her side, with no strings attached to the promise, made her bury her wet face into his chest.
She swallowed down the lump in her throat as closed her eyes, listening to his promise. “I do not want your care, Iason. I want him.” She said bitterly without pulling away. “I will not live without knowing this time.” She said to him, pulling back so her voice was no longer muffled against his chest. “We were stolen as children and I assumed he was dead. I refuse to do that again. If he is dead, then he is dead. I want you to bring him back to me. Dead,” her voice shook as she said what they both feared, “alive— I want proof this time. Promise me that. Promise me you will help me find him, no matter his fate.”
That was what she needed from him. More than anything.
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There hadn’t been any desire for comfort or affection from this man. No, she wanted to hate him, like she hated the pirates who had taken them from their homes in the first place. She wanted to curse his name, burn effigies against him and his family, pray to her own gods that terror and horror might befall him.
Hate was such a safe emotion for her to fall back on. Hate protected her heart just as much as indifference did, for it allowed her to feel something. She had done indifference for so long, assisted by the teas and herbs given to numb her mind. Olena had relied on disassociation to get her through her struggles, through years and years of abuse, simply because she didn’t want to feel the pain that had been buried so deep within her heart.
So while it would have been easier to seek out those same means, to fall back into the numb existence she had once been okay with living, the redhead did her best to resist. And with that came passion, and anger-- emotions that she had been known for as a child. Her mother had always told her that the fire wasn’t only in her hair, but in her heart as well. And she had been quick to feel everything. Even now, no longer dependent on the remedies that depravity provided, she always jumped to her first instincts, feeling her emotions in the open. And then, as the fire simmered out, it allowed for her other emotions to take root. And this time, as her rage dwindled it morphed into grief.
The fire always revealed her true emotions in the end.
And while she had lacked a brother, she found the embrace that he gave her much like the ones she would get from Dima’s. Not the passionate touch of a lover, but a reassuring and kind one. Her arms snaked around his waist as her sobs slowed, letting herself find the comfort she needed from him. Yes, she had a gaggle of women in her life that would help her, that would make sure she was cared for. But in this world, it was a man who decided your fate. To know that, for the first time in a long time, she had one on her side, with no strings attached to the promise, made her bury her wet face into his chest.
She swallowed down the lump in her throat as closed her eyes, listening to his promise. “I do not want your care, Iason. I want him.” She said bitterly without pulling away. “I will not live without knowing this time.” She said to him, pulling back so her voice was no longer muffled against his chest. “We were stolen as children and I assumed he was dead. I refuse to do that again. If he is dead, then he is dead. I want you to bring him back to me. Dead,” her voice shook as she said what they both feared, “alive— I want proof this time. Promise me that. Promise me you will help me find him, no matter his fate.”
That was what she needed from him. More than anything.
There hadn’t been any desire for comfort or affection from this man. No, she wanted to hate him, like she hated the pirates who had taken them from their homes in the first place. She wanted to curse his name, burn effigies against him and his family, pray to her own gods that terror and horror might befall him.
Hate was such a safe emotion for her to fall back on. Hate protected her heart just as much as indifference did, for it allowed her to feel something. She had done indifference for so long, assisted by the teas and herbs given to numb her mind. Olena had relied on disassociation to get her through her struggles, through years and years of abuse, simply because she didn’t want to feel the pain that had been buried so deep within her heart.
So while it would have been easier to seek out those same means, to fall back into the numb existence she had once been okay with living, the redhead did her best to resist. And with that came passion, and anger-- emotions that she had been known for as a child. Her mother had always told her that the fire wasn’t only in her hair, but in her heart as well. And she had been quick to feel everything. Even now, no longer dependent on the remedies that depravity provided, she always jumped to her first instincts, feeling her emotions in the open. And then, as the fire simmered out, it allowed for her other emotions to take root. And this time, as her rage dwindled it morphed into grief.
The fire always revealed her true emotions in the end.
And while she had lacked a brother, she found the embrace that he gave her much like the ones she would get from Dima’s. Not the passionate touch of a lover, but a reassuring and kind one. Her arms snaked around his waist as her sobs slowed, letting herself find the comfort she needed from him. Yes, she had a gaggle of women in her life that would help her, that would make sure she was cared for. But in this world, it was a man who decided your fate. To know that, for the first time in a long time, she had one on her side, with no strings attached to the promise, made her bury her wet face into his chest.
She swallowed down the lump in her throat as closed her eyes, listening to his promise. “I do not want your care, Iason. I want him.” She said bitterly without pulling away. “I will not live without knowing this time.” She said to him, pulling back so her voice was no longer muffled against his chest. “We were stolen as children and I assumed he was dead. I refuse to do that again. If he is dead, then he is dead. I want you to bring him back to me. Dead,” her voice shook as she said what they both feared, “alive— I want proof this time. Promise me that. Promise me you will help me find him, no matter his fate.”
That was what she needed from him. More than anything.
Iason didn't care what it might look like if anyone else came upon them in this position. She was broken entirely without Dima and if he could do even the slightest thing to help keep her together until they could find her lover then he would do it. They had all been through so much since that fateful day that sent them fleeing across to Taengea, and the struggle that had brought them back. He hadn't heard anything of his own family since his departure, had no idea what they were doing or what they thought of him now that their attempts to restore Perse to the throne had taken so long. For all he knew his family might think him dead.
Olena's arms around his waist were a relief, he could still feel the throbbing sting on his cheek where her hand had connected. Looking down as she spoke, muffled against his chest where she had left a substantial damp spot from her tears, he tried to make out her words through the accent and sobs. It hurt his heart to think that they would never find him. He didn't know if it would be worse to find him dead or not find him at all, but Olena's response cleared up what she thought and he knew then and there they would do all they could to bring him home.
"I promise, I'll speak to Aimias and Hector now. We'll find a way to return him. No matter what." Iason wondered if she'd meant what she said, that she wouldn't live without Dima. They had already lost him, he knew the other man would never forgive him if any harm came to Olena, whether from external forces or by her own hand. "We'll work to bring him back. Aimias and Hector both can access the capitol, they can find a way to know his fate. We'll have our proof."
His hand lifted to pat her hair somewhat awkwardly, moving into unsure how to comfort her further without pushing boundaries in one way or another. Iason wished more than anything that they'd been able to marry the two before Dima left. At least they would have that to fall back on. "I promise to do everything we can, as long as you promise to take care of yourself until we bring him home. Can you do that for me?"
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Iason didn't care what it might look like if anyone else came upon them in this position. She was broken entirely without Dima and if he could do even the slightest thing to help keep her together until they could find her lover then he would do it. They had all been through so much since that fateful day that sent them fleeing across to Taengea, and the struggle that had brought them back. He hadn't heard anything of his own family since his departure, had no idea what they were doing or what they thought of him now that their attempts to restore Perse to the throne had taken so long. For all he knew his family might think him dead.
Olena's arms around his waist were a relief, he could still feel the throbbing sting on his cheek where her hand had connected. Looking down as she spoke, muffled against his chest where she had left a substantial damp spot from her tears, he tried to make out her words through the accent and sobs. It hurt his heart to think that they would never find him. He didn't know if it would be worse to find him dead or not find him at all, but Olena's response cleared up what she thought and he knew then and there they would do all they could to bring him home.
"I promise, I'll speak to Aimias and Hector now. We'll find a way to return him. No matter what." Iason wondered if she'd meant what she said, that she wouldn't live without Dima. They had already lost him, he knew the other man would never forgive him if any harm came to Olena, whether from external forces or by her own hand. "We'll work to bring him back. Aimias and Hector both can access the capitol, they can find a way to know his fate. We'll have our proof."
His hand lifted to pat her hair somewhat awkwardly, moving into unsure how to comfort her further without pushing boundaries in one way or another. Iason wished more than anything that they'd been able to marry the two before Dima left. At least they would have that to fall back on. "I promise to do everything we can, as long as you promise to take care of yourself until we bring him home. Can you do that for me?"
Iason didn't care what it might look like if anyone else came upon them in this position. She was broken entirely without Dima and if he could do even the slightest thing to help keep her together until they could find her lover then he would do it. They had all been through so much since that fateful day that sent them fleeing across to Taengea, and the struggle that had brought them back. He hadn't heard anything of his own family since his departure, had no idea what they were doing or what they thought of him now that their attempts to restore Perse to the throne had taken so long. For all he knew his family might think him dead.
Olena's arms around his waist were a relief, he could still feel the throbbing sting on his cheek where her hand had connected. Looking down as she spoke, muffled against his chest where she had left a substantial damp spot from her tears, he tried to make out her words through the accent and sobs. It hurt his heart to think that they would never find him. He didn't know if it would be worse to find him dead or not find him at all, but Olena's response cleared up what she thought and he knew then and there they would do all they could to bring him home.
"I promise, I'll speak to Aimias and Hector now. We'll find a way to return him. No matter what." Iason wondered if she'd meant what she said, that she wouldn't live without Dima. They had already lost him, he knew the other man would never forgive him if any harm came to Olena, whether from external forces or by her own hand. "We'll work to bring him back. Aimias and Hector both can access the capitol, they can find a way to know his fate. We'll have our proof."
His hand lifted to pat her hair somewhat awkwardly, moving into unsure how to comfort her further without pushing boundaries in one way or another. Iason wished more than anything that they'd been able to marry the two before Dima left. At least they would have that to fall back on. "I promise to do everything we can, as long as you promise to take care of yourself until we bring him home. Can you do that for me?"
There was this weight on her chest, so heavy that she wasn’t sure she could breathe with it pressing down on her. Never had she felt so small, or so broken. Not since she was pressed underneath a pirate, his breath on her neck claiming her innocence. No, Olena knew that the feeling she was experiencing now was so dangerously close to that same desperation and hopelessness she had felt then. Not even the loss of the child she had been carrying had broken her like this felt. How could she find the will to draw breath without knowing exactly what happened?
Where was he?
Lord, she didn’t even have any coins to put on his eyes if he was to come home dead?
The thought made her bury her face deeper into his chest, suppressing any sob that might have escaped. She didn’t want to feel like this, didn’t want to have to think about this. Why did the Gods seem happiest when they were being tortured. Why couldn’t they just have moments of happiness? Why were they being punished for things they’d had no control over. She was pleased that he’d agreed, knowing that nothing else really mattered then that. She couldn’t live in a world where she didn’t know if he was alive again, and wouldn’t do it again. Olena could not give up this time, could not bury Dima before he was truly dead. She would find his grave.
And then she would find her revenge. That was a promising thought.
His concern for her broke through her own thoughts, her head pulled from his chest to look up at him. Her eyes were glazed with something unknown, some huge emotion that she couldn't even give a name to. Green eyes softened as soon as he promised to bring him home. There was nothing about Iason that would make her think that he wouldn’t do just that. And perhaps the people within the home could assist. A small glimmer of hope filled her eyes.
“Did he tell you how he found me?” She asked, grasp loosening on his chiton, focusing on him. She needed him to know the truth, needed to know exactly what her past contained. “That I was running from the slaver who owned me when he found me, and hid me away on your lands?” What would he think of that? Would he still protect her? Would he still help her, even though she might have been wanted back in the lands where they’d fled? “I am but a whore owned by men since childhood. Do you still promise to assist?” He could send her back, could locate the man who owned her and simply be rid of her. Dima had told her to trust him, and she was doing just that. “I promise to take care of myself, will you still give your word?”
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There was this weight on her chest, so heavy that she wasn’t sure she could breathe with it pressing down on her. Never had she felt so small, or so broken. Not since she was pressed underneath a pirate, his breath on her neck claiming her innocence. No, Olena knew that the feeling she was experiencing now was so dangerously close to that same desperation and hopelessness she had felt then. Not even the loss of the child she had been carrying had broken her like this felt. How could she find the will to draw breath without knowing exactly what happened?
Where was he?
Lord, she didn’t even have any coins to put on his eyes if he was to come home dead?
The thought made her bury her face deeper into his chest, suppressing any sob that might have escaped. She didn’t want to feel like this, didn’t want to have to think about this. Why did the Gods seem happiest when they were being tortured. Why couldn’t they just have moments of happiness? Why were they being punished for things they’d had no control over. She was pleased that he’d agreed, knowing that nothing else really mattered then that. She couldn’t live in a world where she didn’t know if he was alive again, and wouldn’t do it again. Olena could not give up this time, could not bury Dima before he was truly dead. She would find his grave.
And then she would find her revenge. That was a promising thought.
His concern for her broke through her own thoughts, her head pulled from his chest to look up at him. Her eyes were glazed with something unknown, some huge emotion that she couldn't even give a name to. Green eyes softened as soon as he promised to bring him home. There was nothing about Iason that would make her think that he wouldn’t do just that. And perhaps the people within the home could assist. A small glimmer of hope filled her eyes.
“Did he tell you how he found me?” She asked, grasp loosening on his chiton, focusing on him. She needed him to know the truth, needed to know exactly what her past contained. “That I was running from the slaver who owned me when he found me, and hid me away on your lands?” What would he think of that? Would he still protect her? Would he still help her, even though she might have been wanted back in the lands where they’d fled? “I am but a whore owned by men since childhood. Do you still promise to assist?” He could send her back, could locate the man who owned her and simply be rid of her. Dima had told her to trust him, and she was doing just that. “I promise to take care of myself, will you still give your word?”
There was this weight on her chest, so heavy that she wasn’t sure she could breathe with it pressing down on her. Never had she felt so small, or so broken. Not since she was pressed underneath a pirate, his breath on her neck claiming her innocence. No, Olena knew that the feeling she was experiencing now was so dangerously close to that same desperation and hopelessness she had felt then. Not even the loss of the child she had been carrying had broken her like this felt. How could she find the will to draw breath without knowing exactly what happened?
Where was he?
Lord, she didn’t even have any coins to put on his eyes if he was to come home dead?
The thought made her bury her face deeper into his chest, suppressing any sob that might have escaped. She didn’t want to feel like this, didn’t want to have to think about this. Why did the Gods seem happiest when they were being tortured. Why couldn’t they just have moments of happiness? Why were they being punished for things they’d had no control over. She was pleased that he’d agreed, knowing that nothing else really mattered then that. She couldn’t live in a world where she didn’t know if he was alive again, and wouldn’t do it again. Olena could not give up this time, could not bury Dima before he was truly dead. She would find his grave.
And then she would find her revenge. That was a promising thought.
His concern for her broke through her own thoughts, her head pulled from his chest to look up at him. Her eyes were glazed with something unknown, some huge emotion that she couldn't even give a name to. Green eyes softened as soon as he promised to bring him home. There was nothing about Iason that would make her think that he wouldn’t do just that. And perhaps the people within the home could assist. A small glimmer of hope filled her eyes.
“Did he tell you how he found me?” She asked, grasp loosening on his chiton, focusing on him. She needed him to know the truth, needed to know exactly what her past contained. “That I was running from the slaver who owned me when he found me, and hid me away on your lands?” What would he think of that? Would he still protect her? Would he still help her, even though she might have been wanted back in the lands where they’d fled? “I am but a whore owned by men since childhood. Do you still promise to assist?” He could send her back, could locate the man who owned her and simply be rid of her. Dima had told her to trust him, and she was doing just that. “I promise to take care of myself, will you still give your word?”
All he could do was hold on, to try to give her some kind of anchor in her grief and misery that might help her keep her head above water. Iason tried to keep his breathing measured, in an attempt to help her calm her own down as he let her sob against his chest. This kind of heartbreak was something he'd never seen before, not even when his mother had died. At least then there had been some kind of warning and the family had been able to process it all together. Olena was alone without Dima, and though he and the others could try to bring her comfort it was nowhere near making up for the love she had lost.
Iason hesitated as she asked if he knew how she'd been found. He had an inkling, knew only what Dima had shared when he asked if it was possible for her to be kept safe. Slavery was a normal part of life in Greece, but that didn't mean he wanted to see anyone mistreated. Those who lived in his household were treated more like servants, and given the chance to purchase their freedom with their service. What Olena and Demetrius had been through seemed the opposite.
"He asked if we could keep you safe, and that it was best if I did not ask questions." The knowledge that she'd been a whore was not difficult to surmise given how she flinched from most touch and seemed to trust only Dima of all of the men she had interacted with. Even now at any moment he half expected her to slap him again and run, to hide from any attempt he might give to comforting her as chaste and unexpecting as it was.
"What is past does not matter. Dima said that and I agreed. You don't have to tell me anything more, only what you wish me to know. I made a promise to my friend that I would keep you safe and see you cared for, no matter what I intend to keep that promise."
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All he could do was hold on, to try to give her some kind of anchor in her grief and misery that might help her keep her head above water. Iason tried to keep his breathing measured, in an attempt to help her calm her own down as he let her sob against his chest. This kind of heartbreak was something he'd never seen before, not even when his mother had died. At least then there had been some kind of warning and the family had been able to process it all together. Olena was alone without Dima, and though he and the others could try to bring her comfort it was nowhere near making up for the love she had lost.
Iason hesitated as she asked if he knew how she'd been found. He had an inkling, knew only what Dima had shared when he asked if it was possible for her to be kept safe. Slavery was a normal part of life in Greece, but that didn't mean he wanted to see anyone mistreated. Those who lived in his household were treated more like servants, and given the chance to purchase their freedom with their service. What Olena and Demetrius had been through seemed the opposite.
"He asked if we could keep you safe, and that it was best if I did not ask questions." The knowledge that she'd been a whore was not difficult to surmise given how she flinched from most touch and seemed to trust only Dima of all of the men she had interacted with. Even now at any moment he half expected her to slap him again and run, to hide from any attempt he might give to comforting her as chaste and unexpecting as it was.
"What is past does not matter. Dima said that and I agreed. You don't have to tell me anything more, only what you wish me to know. I made a promise to my friend that I would keep you safe and see you cared for, no matter what I intend to keep that promise."
All he could do was hold on, to try to give her some kind of anchor in her grief and misery that might help her keep her head above water. Iason tried to keep his breathing measured, in an attempt to help her calm her own down as he let her sob against his chest. This kind of heartbreak was something he'd never seen before, not even when his mother had died. At least then there had been some kind of warning and the family had been able to process it all together. Olena was alone without Dima, and though he and the others could try to bring her comfort it was nowhere near making up for the love she had lost.
Iason hesitated as she asked if he knew how she'd been found. He had an inkling, knew only what Dima had shared when he asked if it was possible for her to be kept safe. Slavery was a normal part of life in Greece, but that didn't mean he wanted to see anyone mistreated. Those who lived in his household were treated more like servants, and given the chance to purchase their freedom with their service. What Olena and Demetrius had been through seemed the opposite.
"He asked if we could keep you safe, and that it was best if I did not ask questions." The knowledge that she'd been a whore was not difficult to surmise given how she flinched from most touch and seemed to trust only Dima of all of the men she had interacted with. Even now at any moment he half expected her to slap him again and run, to hide from any attempt he might give to comforting her as chaste and unexpecting as it was.
"What is past does not matter. Dima said that and I agreed. You don't have to tell me anything more, only what you wish me to know. I made a promise to my friend that I would keep you safe and see you cared for, no matter what I intend to keep that promise."
There was such a risk in telling him exactly what she was. He was nobility, potentially about to become a royal. Iason could easily end the simple life she had been living in order to maintain the law of the land. He did not owe her anything, and in truth, she owed him everything. Not only had he found Dima and (mostly) kept him safe, he had allowed her to stay with them. He hadn’t questioned her love beyond making sure that she was willing to run with them.
He could have said no, could have insisted they leave her behind. But instead, he had taken them both in, had offered them positions and security. And while it hadn’t been without a cost, which she was now realizing, Iason had given her more than he had to. By confessing her true position in life, she was placing her trust in him. Olena expected for him to let her down, to say that Dima’s disappearance no longer ensured her position.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he made it seem as if it didn’t matter to him. As if it was not a problem. Or, if it became one, he seemed to be of the notion that he would figure it out. She let out a breathy sob, as if his words had just taken another weight off her shoulders. She felt so alone with Dima here, with only Persephone and her fiance to remind her exactly of what she had lost. But it seemed as if she would at least have a place in his home. And it would be a place that didn’t require her to be on her back.
It was more than she could have hoped for.
Olena wanted to say more, but she couldn’t. Suddenly, she was exhausted by it all. Her body had used what little energy she had to have her fit of rage, and now her legs were weak underneath her. The room spun, perhaps from exhaustion, or the fact that she hadn’t eaten anything in far too long. It was a good thing his arms were still around her, because her knees gave out. Looking back, Olena would have been horrified that she fainted like a silly weak noble girl. But now, with the room spinning, she couldn’t hold onto any thought.
And with that, her eyes rolled back into her head as she lost consciousness.
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There was such a risk in telling him exactly what she was. He was nobility, potentially about to become a royal. Iason could easily end the simple life she had been living in order to maintain the law of the land. He did not owe her anything, and in truth, she owed him everything. Not only had he found Dima and (mostly) kept him safe, he had allowed her to stay with them. He hadn’t questioned her love beyond making sure that she was willing to run with them.
He could have said no, could have insisted they leave her behind. But instead, he had taken them both in, had offered them positions and security. And while it hadn’t been without a cost, which she was now realizing, Iason had given her more than he had to. By confessing her true position in life, she was placing her trust in him. Olena expected for him to let her down, to say that Dima’s disappearance no longer ensured her position.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he made it seem as if it didn’t matter to him. As if it was not a problem. Or, if it became one, he seemed to be of the notion that he would figure it out. She let out a breathy sob, as if his words had just taken another weight off her shoulders. She felt so alone with Dima here, with only Persephone and her fiance to remind her exactly of what she had lost. But it seemed as if she would at least have a place in his home. And it would be a place that didn’t require her to be on her back.
It was more than she could have hoped for.
Olena wanted to say more, but she couldn’t. Suddenly, she was exhausted by it all. Her body had used what little energy she had to have her fit of rage, and now her legs were weak underneath her. The room spun, perhaps from exhaustion, or the fact that she hadn’t eaten anything in far too long. It was a good thing his arms were still around her, because her knees gave out. Looking back, Olena would have been horrified that she fainted like a silly weak noble girl. But now, with the room spinning, she couldn’t hold onto any thought.
And with that, her eyes rolled back into her head as she lost consciousness.
There was such a risk in telling him exactly what she was. He was nobility, potentially about to become a royal. Iason could easily end the simple life she had been living in order to maintain the law of the land. He did not owe her anything, and in truth, she owed him everything. Not only had he found Dima and (mostly) kept him safe, he had allowed her to stay with them. He hadn’t questioned her love beyond making sure that she was willing to run with them.
He could have said no, could have insisted they leave her behind. But instead, he had taken them both in, had offered them positions and security. And while it hadn’t been without a cost, which she was now realizing, Iason had given her more than he had to. By confessing her true position in life, she was placing her trust in him. Olena expected for him to let her down, to say that Dima’s disappearance no longer ensured her position.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he made it seem as if it didn’t matter to him. As if it was not a problem. Or, if it became one, he seemed to be of the notion that he would figure it out. She let out a breathy sob, as if his words had just taken another weight off her shoulders. She felt so alone with Dima here, with only Persephone and her fiance to remind her exactly of what she had lost. But it seemed as if she would at least have a place in his home. And it would be a place that didn’t require her to be on her back.
It was more than she could have hoped for.
Olena wanted to say more, but she couldn’t. Suddenly, she was exhausted by it all. Her body had used what little energy she had to have her fit of rage, and now her legs were weak underneath her. The room spun, perhaps from exhaustion, or the fact that she hadn’t eaten anything in far too long. It was a good thing his arms were still around her, because her knees gave out. Looking back, Olena would have been horrified that she fainted like a silly weak noble girl. But now, with the room spinning, she couldn’t hold onto any thought.
And with that, her eyes rolled back into her head as she lost consciousness.
