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The Lady had seen him reading amidst a stack of papyrus texts earlier in the morning. Instead of lingering or tipping him off to her presence, she had simply gone about her business. It was easier if there was no chance of her being caught. By him or anyone else. Thus, time was needed for him to clear out and for the library to fall silent.
But the idea was there. In the back of her mind, there was still an old memory. An inkling.
Iris moved about the public areas of the palace as her position permitted, meeting with various ladies and enjoying the mindless chatter that often seemed to escape them. It was a means to an end. A distraction. An action she had to think little about to be successful.
Simple discussion, mostly about rumor and gossip, was an easy duty to attend to next to the duties she performed in her father's stead. He still attended his senate meetings, which was the perfect compromise for the both of them. Iris had every desire to one day step foot into the Senate chambers as a Senator in her own right. For all the work the woman put in to ensuring that Aetaea continued to run smoothly and that her people were not starving, Iris felt she deserved to at least speak for herself in these meetings.
There was only so much that Takis could convey for her. Decisions she had made for the good of the province, reasonings, trade information, tax collections. All arranged by the daughter and not the father. But tasks and duties she had been happy to take on so long as it kept her busy and kept her from falling into a verbal disagreement with her father's fellow lawmakers.
Before long, the ladies she was milling about with had moved onto other topics of which were no interest to Iris. Excusing herself from their company, she lingered close to the library until she was entirely sure that he had retreated for the next few moments. Peaking her head into the room, she was relieved to find that the library was empty. Swallowing briefly, Iris stepped lightly across the stone, her fingers wringing nervously in front of her. Iris approached the text she had spotted him reading earlier, quietly opening it to one of the many pages.
The flowers she had slipped into her braids earlier in the morning were nothing but a coincidence. Slipping one of the buds out of her locks, Iris carefully laid it among the pages before putting all of the pages back together.
An old habit.
A sign.
A moment of sentimentality that was quite rare when it came to the Argyris woman.
It had been years since she'd last seen her scholarly friend. It had been years since they had played their silent game of cat and mouse, and Iris vividly recalled how their last game had ended. A page on a flower and its meaning. Iris knew what it meant, but in the flurry of her father's illness, the gesture had gone unrequited.
There had been no time and no duty more important than that she performed in her father's stead.
Silently debating whether leaving the silent moniker was truly wise, Iris quickly turned away, escaping the library and making herself as invisible as she possibly could in the hours to come.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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The Lady had seen him reading amidst a stack of papyrus texts earlier in the morning. Instead of lingering or tipping him off to her presence, she had simply gone about her business. It was easier if there was no chance of her being caught. By him or anyone else. Thus, time was needed for him to clear out and for the library to fall silent.
But the idea was there. In the back of her mind, there was still an old memory. An inkling.
Iris moved about the public areas of the palace as her position permitted, meeting with various ladies and enjoying the mindless chatter that often seemed to escape them. It was a means to an end. A distraction. An action she had to think little about to be successful.
Simple discussion, mostly about rumor and gossip, was an easy duty to attend to next to the duties she performed in her father's stead. He still attended his senate meetings, which was the perfect compromise for the both of them. Iris had every desire to one day step foot into the Senate chambers as a Senator in her own right. For all the work the woman put in to ensuring that Aetaea continued to run smoothly and that her people were not starving, Iris felt she deserved to at least speak for herself in these meetings.
There was only so much that Takis could convey for her. Decisions she had made for the good of the province, reasonings, trade information, tax collections. All arranged by the daughter and not the father. But tasks and duties she had been happy to take on so long as it kept her busy and kept her from falling into a verbal disagreement with her father's fellow lawmakers.
Before long, the ladies she was milling about with had moved onto other topics of which were no interest to Iris. Excusing herself from their company, she lingered close to the library until she was entirely sure that he had retreated for the next few moments. Peaking her head into the room, she was relieved to find that the library was empty. Swallowing briefly, Iris stepped lightly across the stone, her fingers wringing nervously in front of her. Iris approached the text she had spotted him reading earlier, quietly opening it to one of the many pages.
The flowers she had slipped into her braids earlier in the morning were nothing but a coincidence. Slipping one of the buds out of her locks, Iris carefully laid it among the pages before putting all of the pages back together.
An old habit.
A sign.
A moment of sentimentality that was quite rare when it came to the Argyris woman.
It had been years since she'd last seen her scholarly friend. It had been years since they had played their silent game of cat and mouse, and Iris vividly recalled how their last game had ended. A page on a flower and its meaning. Iris knew what it meant, but in the flurry of her father's illness, the gesture had gone unrequited.
There had been no time and no duty more important than that she performed in her father's stead.
Silently debating whether leaving the silent moniker was truly wise, Iris quickly turned away, escaping the library and making herself as invisible as she possibly could in the hours to come.
The Lady had seen him reading amidst a stack of papyrus texts earlier in the morning. Instead of lingering or tipping him off to her presence, she had simply gone about her business. It was easier if there was no chance of her being caught. By him or anyone else. Thus, time was needed for him to clear out and for the library to fall silent.
But the idea was there. In the back of her mind, there was still an old memory. An inkling.
Iris moved about the public areas of the palace as her position permitted, meeting with various ladies and enjoying the mindless chatter that often seemed to escape them. It was a means to an end. A distraction. An action she had to think little about to be successful.
Simple discussion, mostly about rumor and gossip, was an easy duty to attend to next to the duties she performed in her father's stead. He still attended his senate meetings, which was the perfect compromise for the both of them. Iris had every desire to one day step foot into the Senate chambers as a Senator in her own right. For all the work the woman put in to ensuring that Aetaea continued to run smoothly and that her people were not starving, Iris felt she deserved to at least speak for herself in these meetings.
There was only so much that Takis could convey for her. Decisions she had made for the good of the province, reasonings, trade information, tax collections. All arranged by the daughter and not the father. But tasks and duties she had been happy to take on so long as it kept her busy and kept her from falling into a verbal disagreement with her father's fellow lawmakers.
Before long, the ladies she was milling about with had moved onto other topics of which were no interest to Iris. Excusing herself from their company, she lingered close to the library until she was entirely sure that he had retreated for the next few moments. Peaking her head into the room, she was relieved to find that the library was empty. Swallowing briefly, Iris stepped lightly across the stone, her fingers wringing nervously in front of her. Iris approached the text she had spotted him reading earlier, quietly opening it to one of the many pages.
The flowers she had slipped into her braids earlier in the morning were nothing but a coincidence. Slipping one of the buds out of her locks, Iris carefully laid it among the pages before putting all of the pages back together.
An old habit.
A sign.
A moment of sentimentality that was quite rare when it came to the Argyris woman.
It had been years since she'd last seen her scholarly friend. It had been years since they had played their silent game of cat and mouse, and Iris vividly recalled how their last game had ended. A page on a flower and its meaning. Iris knew what it meant, but in the flurry of her father's illness, the gesture had gone unrequited.
There had been no time and no duty more important than that she performed in her father's stead.
Silently debating whether leaving the silent moniker was truly wise, Iris quickly turned away, escaping the library and making herself as invisible as she possibly could in the hours to come.
He was very well aware of the proceeding going on around him. He just chose not to take part in the loud crush of people that took up the courtyard in the middle of the day. They were preparing for the larger meeting that would happen that afternoon. Many nobles attended court, as it was a time to gossip and to try and settle up any political ties. Court was when trade deals happen. It was when marriages were discussed.
And Aimias was not a fan of any of it.
But, as one of the King’s Advisors, it was his duty to attend, to listen to the potential dealings to report back to the King. It wasn’t as if he was a spy, but it was his responsibility to make sure that nothing happened without the influence of the Xanthos family. And he was the most inconspicuous people in a room, keeping to the back, mostly unnoticed by people around him. He didn’t interact, didn’t try to give his opinions.
Besides, he didn’t have much land or much to offer. So people didn’t approach him unless they wished for him to try and convey well wishes to the Xanthos family.
Even then, his reputation was that he wasn’t the one to ask.
Instead of being out with the others, he was in his usual spot-- the library. Having been in this household for almost a decade, there was not a tome he hadn’t read. Most of them were familiar to him, like old friends he could retreat into when the world was too much. This was where he could be found, by those who were looking for him. And it was his usual place before court. If someone needed him or wished to speak with him privately, they would approach him here. And while he was most himself within these walls, he was able to shift into his role with ease.
They weren’t all that different anyway.
He had found his normal spot, hidden away in a corner, and had spent most of the morning there. For a few hours, he was left alone, until a noble pulled him away to discuss a possible trade agreement. And that required a bit of research between the pair, so his tome was left at his seat as they went off to find what they were looking for.
When he came back, almost an hour later, Aimias noticed the slight shift in the pages. He paused for a moment, carefully shifting the paper a bit. The political climate was tense, and it wouldn’t be surprising if someone was trying to slip a note.
Or worse-- poison.
As he was cautious, pushing them apart to reveal a slightly pressed flower. Memories slowly came flowing back. Of a time almost a decade ago, and a woman who liked to challenge his thinking, pushing him to be more than a bookworm. And for a while, it worked. But then, he had placed an orchid within the pages, a symbol of his growing affection for her. And the next day, he waited for a response, only to find nothing in return. And he never heard of her again.
A flower, pressed into pages now, brought memories he had long pushed aside.
Picking up the flower, he left the tome discarded, searching through the library for a face he had all but forgotten in his mind’s eye. As he walked up and down the aisles, he tried to draw her face. Her inquisitive eyes and bright smile, dark hair that was always well maintained. Her challenging mannerisms. The soft way her hand would linger on his. The depths of her knowledge and passion for learning.
He was transported back to those days, where he was determined to be more, to do his patron proud. Where he was never without a stack of tomes in his presence. He was tall but lean. Bright eyes who were just as curious for the world as she had been, he was pale from lack of sun. His clothes were tattered without much of salary to pay for more. He must have looked like a beggar, and yet she was interested in knowing him.
His cheeks flushed, remembering his awkward, lustful thoughts about potentially kissing her.
Aimias cleared the library quickly, frowning as he realized that he was the only one still in the room. Flower still in his hands, he made his way out to the court. There were still a few hours until the formal gathering happened. And, like he was known to do, he stuck to the edges, staying hidden, searching. And yet, he came up empty.
As he moved to investigate further, he was pulled by one of the nobles, interested in talking about the upcoming Senate meeting. He was only half focused on the conversation, worried that he would miss her simply by conversing with someone else. He didn’t care about the way the man thought it should go, knowing that his opinion was of the same of most of the senators. He didn’t want to debate the reasons, and he certainly didn’t want to speak about the potential backlash.
Almost an hour later, he was back at his search. And people began to file in, he became more and more uncertain that she was there. Perhaps it had just been a figment of his imagination. Or a coincidence that he’d found the flower there. With it in his hands, he took his normal spot in the back of the room. But instead of listening, like he normally did, his eyes were wandering around the crowd. And it was obvious that he was distracted. His free hand came up to his well-kept beard, a nervous habit he did when he was deep in thought.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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He was very well aware of the proceeding going on around him. He just chose not to take part in the loud crush of people that took up the courtyard in the middle of the day. They were preparing for the larger meeting that would happen that afternoon. Many nobles attended court, as it was a time to gossip and to try and settle up any political ties. Court was when trade deals happen. It was when marriages were discussed.
And Aimias was not a fan of any of it.
But, as one of the King’s Advisors, it was his duty to attend, to listen to the potential dealings to report back to the King. It wasn’t as if he was a spy, but it was his responsibility to make sure that nothing happened without the influence of the Xanthos family. And he was the most inconspicuous people in a room, keeping to the back, mostly unnoticed by people around him. He didn’t interact, didn’t try to give his opinions.
Besides, he didn’t have much land or much to offer. So people didn’t approach him unless they wished for him to try and convey well wishes to the Xanthos family.
Even then, his reputation was that he wasn’t the one to ask.
Instead of being out with the others, he was in his usual spot-- the library. Having been in this household for almost a decade, there was not a tome he hadn’t read. Most of them were familiar to him, like old friends he could retreat into when the world was too much. This was where he could be found, by those who were looking for him. And it was his usual place before court. If someone needed him or wished to speak with him privately, they would approach him here. And while he was most himself within these walls, he was able to shift into his role with ease.
They weren’t all that different anyway.
He had found his normal spot, hidden away in a corner, and had spent most of the morning there. For a few hours, he was left alone, until a noble pulled him away to discuss a possible trade agreement. And that required a bit of research between the pair, so his tome was left at his seat as they went off to find what they were looking for.
When he came back, almost an hour later, Aimias noticed the slight shift in the pages. He paused for a moment, carefully shifting the paper a bit. The political climate was tense, and it wouldn’t be surprising if someone was trying to slip a note.
Or worse-- poison.
As he was cautious, pushing them apart to reveal a slightly pressed flower. Memories slowly came flowing back. Of a time almost a decade ago, and a woman who liked to challenge his thinking, pushing him to be more than a bookworm. And for a while, it worked. But then, he had placed an orchid within the pages, a symbol of his growing affection for her. And the next day, he waited for a response, only to find nothing in return. And he never heard of her again.
A flower, pressed into pages now, brought memories he had long pushed aside.
Picking up the flower, he left the tome discarded, searching through the library for a face he had all but forgotten in his mind’s eye. As he walked up and down the aisles, he tried to draw her face. Her inquisitive eyes and bright smile, dark hair that was always well maintained. Her challenging mannerisms. The soft way her hand would linger on his. The depths of her knowledge and passion for learning.
He was transported back to those days, where he was determined to be more, to do his patron proud. Where he was never without a stack of tomes in his presence. He was tall but lean. Bright eyes who were just as curious for the world as she had been, he was pale from lack of sun. His clothes were tattered without much of salary to pay for more. He must have looked like a beggar, and yet she was interested in knowing him.
His cheeks flushed, remembering his awkward, lustful thoughts about potentially kissing her.
Aimias cleared the library quickly, frowning as he realized that he was the only one still in the room. Flower still in his hands, he made his way out to the court. There were still a few hours until the formal gathering happened. And, like he was known to do, he stuck to the edges, staying hidden, searching. And yet, he came up empty.
As he moved to investigate further, he was pulled by one of the nobles, interested in talking about the upcoming Senate meeting. He was only half focused on the conversation, worried that he would miss her simply by conversing with someone else. He didn’t care about the way the man thought it should go, knowing that his opinion was of the same of most of the senators. He didn’t want to debate the reasons, and he certainly didn’t want to speak about the potential backlash.
Almost an hour later, he was back at his search. And people began to file in, he became more and more uncertain that she was there. Perhaps it had just been a figment of his imagination. Or a coincidence that he’d found the flower there. With it in his hands, he took his normal spot in the back of the room. But instead of listening, like he normally did, his eyes were wandering around the crowd. And it was obvious that he was distracted. His free hand came up to his well-kept beard, a nervous habit he did when he was deep in thought.
He was very well aware of the proceeding going on around him. He just chose not to take part in the loud crush of people that took up the courtyard in the middle of the day. They were preparing for the larger meeting that would happen that afternoon. Many nobles attended court, as it was a time to gossip and to try and settle up any political ties. Court was when trade deals happen. It was when marriages were discussed.
And Aimias was not a fan of any of it.
But, as one of the King’s Advisors, it was his duty to attend, to listen to the potential dealings to report back to the King. It wasn’t as if he was a spy, but it was his responsibility to make sure that nothing happened without the influence of the Xanthos family. And he was the most inconspicuous people in a room, keeping to the back, mostly unnoticed by people around him. He didn’t interact, didn’t try to give his opinions.
Besides, he didn’t have much land or much to offer. So people didn’t approach him unless they wished for him to try and convey well wishes to the Xanthos family.
Even then, his reputation was that he wasn’t the one to ask.
Instead of being out with the others, he was in his usual spot-- the library. Having been in this household for almost a decade, there was not a tome he hadn’t read. Most of them were familiar to him, like old friends he could retreat into when the world was too much. This was where he could be found, by those who were looking for him. And it was his usual place before court. If someone needed him or wished to speak with him privately, they would approach him here. And while he was most himself within these walls, he was able to shift into his role with ease.
They weren’t all that different anyway.
He had found his normal spot, hidden away in a corner, and had spent most of the morning there. For a few hours, he was left alone, until a noble pulled him away to discuss a possible trade agreement. And that required a bit of research between the pair, so his tome was left at his seat as they went off to find what they were looking for.
When he came back, almost an hour later, Aimias noticed the slight shift in the pages. He paused for a moment, carefully shifting the paper a bit. The political climate was tense, and it wouldn’t be surprising if someone was trying to slip a note.
Or worse-- poison.
As he was cautious, pushing them apart to reveal a slightly pressed flower. Memories slowly came flowing back. Of a time almost a decade ago, and a woman who liked to challenge his thinking, pushing him to be more than a bookworm. And for a while, it worked. But then, he had placed an orchid within the pages, a symbol of his growing affection for her. And the next day, he waited for a response, only to find nothing in return. And he never heard of her again.
A flower, pressed into pages now, brought memories he had long pushed aside.
Picking up the flower, he left the tome discarded, searching through the library for a face he had all but forgotten in his mind’s eye. As he walked up and down the aisles, he tried to draw her face. Her inquisitive eyes and bright smile, dark hair that was always well maintained. Her challenging mannerisms. The soft way her hand would linger on his. The depths of her knowledge and passion for learning.
He was transported back to those days, where he was determined to be more, to do his patron proud. Where he was never without a stack of tomes in his presence. He was tall but lean. Bright eyes who were just as curious for the world as she had been, he was pale from lack of sun. His clothes were tattered without much of salary to pay for more. He must have looked like a beggar, and yet she was interested in knowing him.
His cheeks flushed, remembering his awkward, lustful thoughts about potentially kissing her.
Aimias cleared the library quickly, frowning as he realized that he was the only one still in the room. Flower still in his hands, he made his way out to the court. There were still a few hours until the formal gathering happened. And, like he was known to do, he stuck to the edges, staying hidden, searching. And yet, he came up empty.
As he moved to investigate further, he was pulled by one of the nobles, interested in talking about the upcoming Senate meeting. He was only half focused on the conversation, worried that he would miss her simply by conversing with someone else. He didn’t care about the way the man thought it should go, knowing that his opinion was of the same of most of the senators. He didn’t want to debate the reasons, and he certainly didn’t want to speak about the potential backlash.
Almost an hour later, he was back at his search. And people began to file in, he became more and more uncertain that she was there. Perhaps it had just been a figment of his imagination. Or a coincidence that he’d found the flower there. With it in his hands, he took his normal spot in the back of the room. But instead of listening, like he normally did, his eyes were wandering around the crowd. And it was obvious that he was distracted. His free hand came up to his well-kept beard, a nervous habit he did when he was deep in thought.
Invisibility was always impossible in the eyes of the court. And her attempt to remain unseen as she returned to the family mansion to prepare for court was fooled by her own father. Leaning heavily against the door frame of Iris' room, Takis had settled to observe, able to clearly note the change in the demeanor in his daughter. Yet he said nothing and neither did Iris. Not much ever really needed to settle in the air between them. Takis and Iris had been able to work off one another for years, and though Takis' health was slowly continuing to fail, he tried to do everything to support her.
When Iris' lady rose from her position beside Iris, she gave a soft smile to Takis, motioning him away from the door so that she could help Iris properly prepare for court. It didn't take long to dress into a soft purple chiton and deep gray himation. There was some delicate embroidery on the edges of the fabric. If one looked close enough, they would see crescent moons and arrows in delicate silver stitching. A homage to the Argyris' patron goddess: Artemis.
Her lady redid her hair up into a few braids, pinning flowers in to finish off the hairstyle. Iris completed her own makeup, her lips rouged a vibrant red.
Having said nothing the entire time, Iris rose silently to her feet when all was finished, glancing at herself in the mirror just briefly. Her mind was simply distracted. She had been back to court for a few weeks and she hadn't seen him until now. Was she simply inattentive or had he been outwardly avoiding her? It didn't seem to mesh with his personality to hide from her or anything, but she also couldn't blame him.
The orchid had been stunning. Tucked into her chiton as she'd rushed back to the manor. All the while she'd fought back tears simply because the timing had been wrong. Entirely, completely wrong. And seeing the flower he'd gifted her, she had been completely unable to present him with the myosotis flowers. Forget-me-nots. She hadn't had the heart to do that to him when Aimias had so blatantly presented his feelings to her in their trademark silent conversations.
He was bound to have found her newest gift already. He had never strayed far from the library for too long, after all. Making her way back to the palace, Iris was content to note that there was still an hour before court truly started. Her gaze drifted about the room, searching, hoping for the sight of him.
Iris wasn't at all disappointed by what she found. When had he filled out? What had lead to the toned nature of his physique? From her hiding spot outside of the library, she hadn't gotten a clear look at him. Now? There was a lump in her throat as she took a few steps forward from the archway. He hadn't spotted her yet, his attentions on the other side of the room. Thus, her feet carried her further forward, slipping among the various courtiers until she was standing before him.
Her gaze dropped to the flower in hand, green eyes contemplative for but a moment.
And still there was silence. This time it felt as if the court had gone silent despite the low roar of so many conversations at once. Iris' gaze remained fixed on Aimias, words failing her with the sight of her silent signal. A new conversation. One that would likely never need words, and one that may never evolve into anything more than quiet consideration and contemplation.
Reaching forward, Iris gently took the flower from his hand, holding it between her fingers between them.
A question.
A request.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Invisibility was always impossible in the eyes of the court. And her attempt to remain unseen as she returned to the family mansion to prepare for court was fooled by her own father. Leaning heavily against the door frame of Iris' room, Takis had settled to observe, able to clearly note the change in the demeanor in his daughter. Yet he said nothing and neither did Iris. Not much ever really needed to settle in the air between them. Takis and Iris had been able to work off one another for years, and though Takis' health was slowly continuing to fail, he tried to do everything to support her.
When Iris' lady rose from her position beside Iris, she gave a soft smile to Takis, motioning him away from the door so that she could help Iris properly prepare for court. It didn't take long to dress into a soft purple chiton and deep gray himation. There was some delicate embroidery on the edges of the fabric. If one looked close enough, they would see crescent moons and arrows in delicate silver stitching. A homage to the Argyris' patron goddess: Artemis.
Her lady redid her hair up into a few braids, pinning flowers in to finish off the hairstyle. Iris completed her own makeup, her lips rouged a vibrant red.
Having said nothing the entire time, Iris rose silently to her feet when all was finished, glancing at herself in the mirror just briefly. Her mind was simply distracted. She had been back to court for a few weeks and she hadn't seen him until now. Was she simply inattentive or had he been outwardly avoiding her? It didn't seem to mesh with his personality to hide from her or anything, but she also couldn't blame him.
The orchid had been stunning. Tucked into her chiton as she'd rushed back to the manor. All the while she'd fought back tears simply because the timing had been wrong. Entirely, completely wrong. And seeing the flower he'd gifted her, she had been completely unable to present him with the myosotis flowers. Forget-me-nots. She hadn't had the heart to do that to him when Aimias had so blatantly presented his feelings to her in their trademark silent conversations.
He was bound to have found her newest gift already. He had never strayed far from the library for too long, after all. Making her way back to the palace, Iris was content to note that there was still an hour before court truly started. Her gaze drifted about the room, searching, hoping for the sight of him.
Iris wasn't at all disappointed by what she found. When had he filled out? What had lead to the toned nature of his physique? From her hiding spot outside of the library, she hadn't gotten a clear look at him. Now? There was a lump in her throat as she took a few steps forward from the archway. He hadn't spotted her yet, his attentions on the other side of the room. Thus, her feet carried her further forward, slipping among the various courtiers until she was standing before him.
Her gaze dropped to the flower in hand, green eyes contemplative for but a moment.
And still there was silence. This time it felt as if the court had gone silent despite the low roar of so many conversations at once. Iris' gaze remained fixed on Aimias, words failing her with the sight of her silent signal. A new conversation. One that would likely never need words, and one that may never evolve into anything more than quiet consideration and contemplation.
Reaching forward, Iris gently took the flower from his hand, holding it between her fingers between them.
A question.
A request.
Invisibility was always impossible in the eyes of the court. And her attempt to remain unseen as she returned to the family mansion to prepare for court was fooled by her own father. Leaning heavily against the door frame of Iris' room, Takis had settled to observe, able to clearly note the change in the demeanor in his daughter. Yet he said nothing and neither did Iris. Not much ever really needed to settle in the air between them. Takis and Iris had been able to work off one another for years, and though Takis' health was slowly continuing to fail, he tried to do everything to support her.
When Iris' lady rose from her position beside Iris, she gave a soft smile to Takis, motioning him away from the door so that she could help Iris properly prepare for court. It didn't take long to dress into a soft purple chiton and deep gray himation. There was some delicate embroidery on the edges of the fabric. If one looked close enough, they would see crescent moons and arrows in delicate silver stitching. A homage to the Argyris' patron goddess: Artemis.
Her lady redid her hair up into a few braids, pinning flowers in to finish off the hairstyle. Iris completed her own makeup, her lips rouged a vibrant red.
Having said nothing the entire time, Iris rose silently to her feet when all was finished, glancing at herself in the mirror just briefly. Her mind was simply distracted. She had been back to court for a few weeks and she hadn't seen him until now. Was she simply inattentive or had he been outwardly avoiding her? It didn't seem to mesh with his personality to hide from her or anything, but she also couldn't blame him.
The orchid had been stunning. Tucked into her chiton as she'd rushed back to the manor. All the while she'd fought back tears simply because the timing had been wrong. Entirely, completely wrong. And seeing the flower he'd gifted her, she had been completely unable to present him with the myosotis flowers. Forget-me-nots. She hadn't had the heart to do that to him when Aimias had so blatantly presented his feelings to her in their trademark silent conversations.
He was bound to have found her newest gift already. He had never strayed far from the library for too long, after all. Making her way back to the palace, Iris was content to note that there was still an hour before court truly started. Her gaze drifted about the room, searching, hoping for the sight of him.
Iris wasn't at all disappointed by what she found. When had he filled out? What had lead to the toned nature of his physique? From her hiding spot outside of the library, she hadn't gotten a clear look at him. Now? There was a lump in her throat as she took a few steps forward from the archway. He hadn't spotted her yet, his attentions on the other side of the room. Thus, her feet carried her further forward, slipping among the various courtiers until she was standing before him.
Her gaze dropped to the flower in hand, green eyes contemplative for but a moment.
And still there was silence. This time it felt as if the court had gone silent despite the low roar of so many conversations at once. Iris' gaze remained fixed on Aimias, words failing her with the sight of her silent signal. A new conversation. One that would likely never need words, and one that may never evolve into anything more than quiet consideration and contemplation.
Reaching forward, Iris gently took the flower from his hand, holding it between her fingers between them.
A question.
A request.
There were far too many eyes in court of his actions not to be noticed. He knew that people were watching him, if for no reason other than the fact that he was an advisor to the king. If anyone in that room had the king’s ear, it was the well-dressed man in the back corner. It wasn’t uncommon for him to be approached by others, and all he wanted to do was stay in the back and search for her. He didn’t dare wander the crowd, too sure that he would be pulled into a conversation that would prevent him from seeking out the person he’d been looking for.
He wasn’t sure how he didn’t notice her the moment she walked into the room. It wasn’t until she was standing in front of him, as if an apparition from the Gods, that he was able to take her in for the first time in almost a decade.
She had been beautiful when they were younger. Now, as an adult, she had bloomed into an impossibly gorgeous woman. There was an air of certainty that hadn’t been there before, he noted, with the straightness of her back. Her head no longer hid, eyes meeting others in the room. She was a beauty, one who was dark and stunning and would be a catch for anyone who wanted her hand.
Iris.
The flowers had been his bookish node to her name. And they had started the entire friendship that had blossomed within the walls of the university library. Taking turns, challenging the other with flowers. They would point towards quotes they had favored. Or tomes that the other thought should be shared. He hadn’t realized the moment it turned into a flirtatious communication. But it had, and he had been foolish to think that she hadn’t noticed the orchid.
And even more foolish to think that she might have thought more of him.
Orchid-- what a stupid flower to leave.
It had been too long, for he couldn’t really read the look on her face. There was a curious look, perhaps asking him what he had thought about seeing her again. And as her eyes traveled down to the flower he was still holding, he let his own fall to the same thing. His cheeks flushed a bit. But still, he couldn’t form words, couldn’t seem to force himself to say anything to her.
Instead, his head bowed in greeting. Then, a hand, directing her away from court. He couldn’t escort her, not so openly, instead simply turning on his heels to head into the palati.
And hoped she followed.
There were no words as they walked towards his study. They moved from the open part of the palati into the private quarters, a section off-limits to anyone who wasn’t a resident of the grounds. But, since she was with him, no one stopped the pair as they made the turns to his small corner of the world. He held open the door for her, allowing her to step into the private room where they would be able to speak without ears hearing the conversation.
A seat was offered to her before he moved to take his own sensible seat behind the desk. The room was well organized, the desk clean of tomes with parchment neatly stacked. A small cup of quills sat next to an inkwell, wax and seal next to it for writing letters. The room, while furnished in dark woods and deep earth tones, was surprisingly bright. Covered in openings to the outside air, it seemed like as much of a contradiction as he was.
Still silent, he just watched her.
Waited.
Unable to break the silence himself.
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There were far too many eyes in court of his actions not to be noticed. He knew that people were watching him, if for no reason other than the fact that he was an advisor to the king. If anyone in that room had the king’s ear, it was the well-dressed man in the back corner. It wasn’t uncommon for him to be approached by others, and all he wanted to do was stay in the back and search for her. He didn’t dare wander the crowd, too sure that he would be pulled into a conversation that would prevent him from seeking out the person he’d been looking for.
He wasn’t sure how he didn’t notice her the moment she walked into the room. It wasn’t until she was standing in front of him, as if an apparition from the Gods, that he was able to take her in for the first time in almost a decade.
She had been beautiful when they were younger. Now, as an adult, she had bloomed into an impossibly gorgeous woman. There was an air of certainty that hadn’t been there before, he noted, with the straightness of her back. Her head no longer hid, eyes meeting others in the room. She was a beauty, one who was dark and stunning and would be a catch for anyone who wanted her hand.
Iris.
The flowers had been his bookish node to her name. And they had started the entire friendship that had blossomed within the walls of the university library. Taking turns, challenging the other with flowers. They would point towards quotes they had favored. Or tomes that the other thought should be shared. He hadn’t realized the moment it turned into a flirtatious communication. But it had, and he had been foolish to think that she hadn’t noticed the orchid.
And even more foolish to think that she might have thought more of him.
Orchid-- what a stupid flower to leave.
It had been too long, for he couldn’t really read the look on her face. There was a curious look, perhaps asking him what he had thought about seeing her again. And as her eyes traveled down to the flower he was still holding, he let his own fall to the same thing. His cheeks flushed a bit. But still, he couldn’t form words, couldn’t seem to force himself to say anything to her.
Instead, his head bowed in greeting. Then, a hand, directing her away from court. He couldn’t escort her, not so openly, instead simply turning on his heels to head into the palati.
And hoped she followed.
There were no words as they walked towards his study. They moved from the open part of the palati into the private quarters, a section off-limits to anyone who wasn’t a resident of the grounds. But, since she was with him, no one stopped the pair as they made the turns to his small corner of the world. He held open the door for her, allowing her to step into the private room where they would be able to speak without ears hearing the conversation.
A seat was offered to her before he moved to take his own sensible seat behind the desk. The room was well organized, the desk clean of tomes with parchment neatly stacked. A small cup of quills sat next to an inkwell, wax and seal next to it for writing letters. The room, while furnished in dark woods and deep earth tones, was surprisingly bright. Covered in openings to the outside air, it seemed like as much of a contradiction as he was.
Still silent, he just watched her.
Waited.
Unable to break the silence himself.
There were far too many eyes in court of his actions not to be noticed. He knew that people were watching him, if for no reason other than the fact that he was an advisor to the king. If anyone in that room had the king’s ear, it was the well-dressed man in the back corner. It wasn’t uncommon for him to be approached by others, and all he wanted to do was stay in the back and search for her. He didn’t dare wander the crowd, too sure that he would be pulled into a conversation that would prevent him from seeking out the person he’d been looking for.
He wasn’t sure how he didn’t notice her the moment she walked into the room. It wasn’t until she was standing in front of him, as if an apparition from the Gods, that he was able to take her in for the first time in almost a decade.
She had been beautiful when they were younger. Now, as an adult, she had bloomed into an impossibly gorgeous woman. There was an air of certainty that hadn’t been there before, he noted, with the straightness of her back. Her head no longer hid, eyes meeting others in the room. She was a beauty, one who was dark and stunning and would be a catch for anyone who wanted her hand.
Iris.
The flowers had been his bookish node to her name. And they had started the entire friendship that had blossomed within the walls of the university library. Taking turns, challenging the other with flowers. They would point towards quotes they had favored. Or tomes that the other thought should be shared. He hadn’t realized the moment it turned into a flirtatious communication. But it had, and he had been foolish to think that she hadn’t noticed the orchid.
And even more foolish to think that she might have thought more of him.
Orchid-- what a stupid flower to leave.
It had been too long, for he couldn’t really read the look on her face. There was a curious look, perhaps asking him what he had thought about seeing her again. And as her eyes traveled down to the flower he was still holding, he let his own fall to the same thing. His cheeks flushed a bit. But still, he couldn’t form words, couldn’t seem to force himself to say anything to her.
Instead, his head bowed in greeting. Then, a hand, directing her away from court. He couldn’t escort her, not so openly, instead simply turning on his heels to head into the palati.
And hoped she followed.
There were no words as they walked towards his study. They moved from the open part of the palati into the private quarters, a section off-limits to anyone who wasn’t a resident of the grounds. But, since she was with him, no one stopped the pair as they made the turns to his small corner of the world. He held open the door for her, allowing her to step into the private room where they would be able to speak without ears hearing the conversation.
A seat was offered to her before he moved to take his own sensible seat behind the desk. The room was well organized, the desk clean of tomes with parchment neatly stacked. A small cup of quills sat next to an inkwell, wax and seal next to it for writing letters. The room, while furnished in dark woods and deep earth tones, was surprisingly bright. Covered in openings to the outside air, it seemed like as much of a contradiction as he was.
Still silent, he just watched her.
Waited.
Unable to break the silence himself.
It had never been an easy feat to read Aimias. He was often difficult to coax much out of, but all those years ago, Iris had succeeded. And in the most honest and invasive of ways. They had become friends. Close friends. Persephone had introduced them once, and Iris had remained taken with him the entire time she'd remained at court.
In the process, she'd chased off every other man who had attempted to court her, not at all interested in what they could not give her. Her ferocious mind and precocious temperment left most courters retreating with their tails between their legs. Like one of the many hunting canines Iris had trained. Having asserted herself as the alpha, they'd backed off, which had been a delight for her... but sorrow for her father.
Iris had never felt that Takis would have understood her silent infatuation with the scholar. He'd wanted her to marry well. She had simply wanted affection. Something she was sure she would be without if she'd married any of the noble men that had come to court her. Her lands and titles would be theirs, and her fears had always screamed at the back of her mind that that was all they had wanted.
But not him.
The orchid had been enough to make her heart flutter... had she not been so embarrassed of the fact that her father's illness was pulling her away from the city.
Now? She could still catch a hint of the old him. In the flush of his cheeks and his mannerisms. Saying absolutely nothing, her hand dropped with the flower between them when he motioned them away. Momentarily, she felt confusion stir at her until she realized he was inviting her away from court. Glancing around only once, she was content to note that no one had paid them any mind. Fingers continuing to grasp the delicate flower, Iris trailed after him, keeping a respectable distance from his side and only glancing down when they passed the guards into the deeper section of the palati.
The woman didn't hesitate when he encouraged her to enter his rooms, but she did give pause by the door, waiting for him to enter. When the door had been closed and he had settled into the chair behind the desk, Iris tore her gaze from him. And to the room in which she stood. The rich tones of the wood and the fabrics made her miss Aetaea. She missed her forest. Her dogs. Her mare. The feeling of a bow in her palm.
But she'd found something better.
Stepping further into the room, Iris found herself skirting the side, her gaze wandering one of the windows briefly to get a feel for where they were in the palati. Fingers trailed wood grain and fabric. Her blue gaze traversed the expanse of the room and the distance from him before they settled on the chair he had offered her.
Iris found herself seated, her gaze fixing once more on Aimias.
Was it odd that not a word had been spoken all this time? To many, it would be. To Iris, it was simply... comforting.
But someone had to break through the silence. Someone needed to make quiet ripples in the feigned barrier that had been created.
Lifting her chin slightly, Iris parted her lips to speak. Then gave pause once more, thinking through her words. Little good it did her, however, since the first words from her lips were, "You make it feel as if you're a jailor when you seat yourself like that, Aimias. Staunch and official," Iris murmured, voice laced with quiet approval. She was still playing with the stem of the flower she had given him.
A smile turned the corners of her mouth upwards.
"I don't think you realize how pleased I am to see you again."
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It had never been an easy feat to read Aimias. He was often difficult to coax much out of, but all those years ago, Iris had succeeded. And in the most honest and invasive of ways. They had become friends. Close friends. Persephone had introduced them once, and Iris had remained taken with him the entire time she'd remained at court.
In the process, she'd chased off every other man who had attempted to court her, not at all interested in what they could not give her. Her ferocious mind and precocious temperment left most courters retreating with their tails between their legs. Like one of the many hunting canines Iris had trained. Having asserted herself as the alpha, they'd backed off, which had been a delight for her... but sorrow for her father.
Iris had never felt that Takis would have understood her silent infatuation with the scholar. He'd wanted her to marry well. She had simply wanted affection. Something she was sure she would be without if she'd married any of the noble men that had come to court her. Her lands and titles would be theirs, and her fears had always screamed at the back of her mind that that was all they had wanted.
But not him.
The orchid had been enough to make her heart flutter... had she not been so embarrassed of the fact that her father's illness was pulling her away from the city.
Now? She could still catch a hint of the old him. In the flush of his cheeks and his mannerisms. Saying absolutely nothing, her hand dropped with the flower between them when he motioned them away. Momentarily, she felt confusion stir at her until she realized he was inviting her away from court. Glancing around only once, she was content to note that no one had paid them any mind. Fingers continuing to grasp the delicate flower, Iris trailed after him, keeping a respectable distance from his side and only glancing down when they passed the guards into the deeper section of the palati.
The woman didn't hesitate when he encouraged her to enter his rooms, but she did give pause by the door, waiting for him to enter. When the door had been closed and he had settled into the chair behind the desk, Iris tore her gaze from him. And to the room in which she stood. The rich tones of the wood and the fabrics made her miss Aetaea. She missed her forest. Her dogs. Her mare. The feeling of a bow in her palm.
But she'd found something better.
Stepping further into the room, Iris found herself skirting the side, her gaze wandering one of the windows briefly to get a feel for where they were in the palati. Fingers trailed wood grain and fabric. Her blue gaze traversed the expanse of the room and the distance from him before they settled on the chair he had offered her.
Iris found herself seated, her gaze fixing once more on Aimias.
Was it odd that not a word had been spoken all this time? To many, it would be. To Iris, it was simply... comforting.
But someone had to break through the silence. Someone needed to make quiet ripples in the feigned barrier that had been created.
Lifting her chin slightly, Iris parted her lips to speak. Then gave pause once more, thinking through her words. Little good it did her, however, since the first words from her lips were, "You make it feel as if you're a jailor when you seat yourself like that, Aimias. Staunch and official," Iris murmured, voice laced with quiet approval. She was still playing with the stem of the flower she had given him.
A smile turned the corners of her mouth upwards.
"I don't think you realize how pleased I am to see you again."
It had never been an easy feat to read Aimias. He was often difficult to coax much out of, but all those years ago, Iris had succeeded. And in the most honest and invasive of ways. They had become friends. Close friends. Persephone had introduced them once, and Iris had remained taken with him the entire time she'd remained at court.
In the process, she'd chased off every other man who had attempted to court her, not at all interested in what they could not give her. Her ferocious mind and precocious temperment left most courters retreating with their tails between their legs. Like one of the many hunting canines Iris had trained. Having asserted herself as the alpha, they'd backed off, which had been a delight for her... but sorrow for her father.
Iris had never felt that Takis would have understood her silent infatuation with the scholar. He'd wanted her to marry well. She had simply wanted affection. Something she was sure she would be without if she'd married any of the noble men that had come to court her. Her lands and titles would be theirs, and her fears had always screamed at the back of her mind that that was all they had wanted.
But not him.
The orchid had been enough to make her heart flutter... had she not been so embarrassed of the fact that her father's illness was pulling her away from the city.
Now? She could still catch a hint of the old him. In the flush of his cheeks and his mannerisms. Saying absolutely nothing, her hand dropped with the flower between them when he motioned them away. Momentarily, she felt confusion stir at her until she realized he was inviting her away from court. Glancing around only once, she was content to note that no one had paid them any mind. Fingers continuing to grasp the delicate flower, Iris trailed after him, keeping a respectable distance from his side and only glancing down when they passed the guards into the deeper section of the palati.
The woman didn't hesitate when he encouraged her to enter his rooms, but she did give pause by the door, waiting for him to enter. When the door had been closed and he had settled into the chair behind the desk, Iris tore her gaze from him. And to the room in which she stood. The rich tones of the wood and the fabrics made her miss Aetaea. She missed her forest. Her dogs. Her mare. The feeling of a bow in her palm.
But she'd found something better.
Stepping further into the room, Iris found herself skirting the side, her gaze wandering one of the windows briefly to get a feel for where they were in the palati. Fingers trailed wood grain and fabric. Her blue gaze traversed the expanse of the room and the distance from him before they settled on the chair he had offered her.
Iris found herself seated, her gaze fixing once more on Aimias.
Was it odd that not a word had been spoken all this time? To many, it would be. To Iris, it was simply... comforting.
But someone had to break through the silence. Someone needed to make quiet ripples in the feigned barrier that had been created.
Lifting her chin slightly, Iris parted her lips to speak. Then gave pause once more, thinking through her words. Little good it did her, however, since the first words from her lips were, "You make it feel as if you're a jailor when you seat yourself like that, Aimias. Staunch and official," Iris murmured, voice laced with quiet approval. She was still playing with the stem of the flower she had given him.
A smile turned the corners of her mouth upwards.
"I don't think you realize how pleased I am to see you again."
He had never really understood what she saw in him. Bookish, awkward and blunt to a fault, Aimias figured that he would spend his days alone. Most of those in university avoided him, simply because he had a tendency to make things awkward without meaning to. But, for whatever reason, she found the quality enduring and continued to seek out his company. He tried, in the beginning, to make her see that she was wasting her time with him. She didn’t seem to care, and they eventually got along smoothly.
Until she vanished. And he didn’t bother looking for her with such a clear intention in her lack of explanation.
Watching her with a silent eye, he wasn’t wholly sure what to make of her sudden reappearance. Iris somehow seemed to blend into space without any effort, as if she was made for the deeply colored office full of books and tomes. Perhaps she was thinking of home as she quietly wandered the room, taking it in fully. Maybe she needed a moment to gather her thoughts, or maybe she was trying to figure out exactly what her plan had been by coming to him now. While he was one of the most well-informed men in the kingdom, he had never pressed himself to find more information regarding her.
After all, she had made the choice to leave without a note. She decided she did not wish further contact, and he had to respect that. He refused to press her for something did not wish to give.
She settled into the seat in front of him, but still, he didn’t say anything. There was no way for him to know what she wanted, to know if this was a personal meeting or a professional one. He knew of her father, and of his failing health. Perhaps that was part of the reason he held no ill will towards her. Her duty was to her family, and she needed to focus on that. Despite the gentle sting that came with knowing that she didn’t wish to maintain the friendship during that time, Aimias knew that she had a good head on her shoulder to do what was best.
Her gentle teasing as to his posture turned the corner of his lips slightly, shifting himself a bit to relax within his seat. ”I do not often play the jailer, Iris. Just a part of the jury.” He let himself lean against the seat, unable to deny the maturity in her voice, brought with time and experience. He was sure that he, too, would sound different. And he wasn’t exactly sure it would be a positive change. Life had made him a bit cold, the death of his wife and the current political climate had aged him more than he’d known. While his appearance was neat, the grey in his beard was hard to miss.
As was the way he carried the weight on his shoulders.
But the firm look in his eyes softened a bit, and he gave her a rare smile. ”It certainly has been a long time, hasn’t it?”
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He had never really understood what she saw in him. Bookish, awkward and blunt to a fault, Aimias figured that he would spend his days alone. Most of those in university avoided him, simply because he had a tendency to make things awkward without meaning to. But, for whatever reason, she found the quality enduring and continued to seek out his company. He tried, in the beginning, to make her see that she was wasting her time with him. She didn’t seem to care, and they eventually got along smoothly.
Until she vanished. And he didn’t bother looking for her with such a clear intention in her lack of explanation.
Watching her with a silent eye, he wasn’t wholly sure what to make of her sudden reappearance. Iris somehow seemed to blend into space without any effort, as if she was made for the deeply colored office full of books and tomes. Perhaps she was thinking of home as she quietly wandered the room, taking it in fully. Maybe she needed a moment to gather her thoughts, or maybe she was trying to figure out exactly what her plan had been by coming to him now. While he was one of the most well-informed men in the kingdom, he had never pressed himself to find more information regarding her.
After all, she had made the choice to leave without a note. She decided she did not wish further contact, and he had to respect that. He refused to press her for something did not wish to give.
She settled into the seat in front of him, but still, he didn’t say anything. There was no way for him to know what she wanted, to know if this was a personal meeting or a professional one. He knew of her father, and of his failing health. Perhaps that was part of the reason he held no ill will towards her. Her duty was to her family, and she needed to focus on that. Despite the gentle sting that came with knowing that she didn’t wish to maintain the friendship during that time, Aimias knew that she had a good head on her shoulder to do what was best.
Her gentle teasing as to his posture turned the corner of his lips slightly, shifting himself a bit to relax within his seat. ”I do not often play the jailer, Iris. Just a part of the jury.” He let himself lean against the seat, unable to deny the maturity in her voice, brought with time and experience. He was sure that he, too, would sound different. And he wasn’t exactly sure it would be a positive change. Life had made him a bit cold, the death of his wife and the current political climate had aged him more than he’d known. While his appearance was neat, the grey in his beard was hard to miss.
As was the way he carried the weight on his shoulders.
But the firm look in his eyes softened a bit, and he gave her a rare smile. ”It certainly has been a long time, hasn’t it?”
He had never really understood what she saw in him. Bookish, awkward and blunt to a fault, Aimias figured that he would spend his days alone. Most of those in university avoided him, simply because he had a tendency to make things awkward without meaning to. But, for whatever reason, she found the quality enduring and continued to seek out his company. He tried, in the beginning, to make her see that she was wasting her time with him. She didn’t seem to care, and they eventually got along smoothly.
Until she vanished. And he didn’t bother looking for her with such a clear intention in her lack of explanation.
Watching her with a silent eye, he wasn’t wholly sure what to make of her sudden reappearance. Iris somehow seemed to blend into space without any effort, as if she was made for the deeply colored office full of books and tomes. Perhaps she was thinking of home as she quietly wandered the room, taking it in fully. Maybe she needed a moment to gather her thoughts, or maybe she was trying to figure out exactly what her plan had been by coming to him now. While he was one of the most well-informed men in the kingdom, he had never pressed himself to find more information regarding her.
After all, she had made the choice to leave without a note. She decided she did not wish further contact, and he had to respect that. He refused to press her for something did not wish to give.
She settled into the seat in front of him, but still, he didn’t say anything. There was no way for him to know what she wanted, to know if this was a personal meeting or a professional one. He knew of her father, and of his failing health. Perhaps that was part of the reason he held no ill will towards her. Her duty was to her family, and she needed to focus on that. Despite the gentle sting that came with knowing that she didn’t wish to maintain the friendship during that time, Aimias knew that she had a good head on her shoulder to do what was best.
Her gentle teasing as to his posture turned the corner of his lips slightly, shifting himself a bit to relax within his seat. ”I do not often play the jailer, Iris. Just a part of the jury.” He let himself lean against the seat, unable to deny the maturity in her voice, brought with time and experience. He was sure that he, too, would sound different. And he wasn’t exactly sure it would be a positive change. Life had made him a bit cold, the death of his wife and the current political climate had aged him more than he’d known. While his appearance was neat, the grey in his beard was hard to miss.
As was the way he carried the weight on his shoulders.
But the firm look in his eyes softened a bit, and he gave her a rare smile. ”It certainly has been a long time, hasn’t it?”
How long had it been since any single man's voice had turned her head like this? Whatever feelings the Argyris woman had buried all those years ago, they gnawed at the pit of her stomach now. To a point in which she shifted slightly in her seat, Iris found herself observing him closely, ignoring the anxious bubbling and fluttering of wings in her chest. It had been years since she'd heard his voice, let alone her name rolling off his tongue.
She had to recall her propriety. Whatever had happened in the last ten years neither of them were privy to. At least not yet. But Iris could see it in the salt and pepper of his beard and the way that he positioned himself in his chair. If she weren't mistaken, he was either guarded or disinterested in whatever it was she had to say. Then again, Iris also had to remind herself of his expression not minutes before.
The stunned silence and inability to speak a single word at just her appearance.
Guarded maybe, but not disinterested.
Green eyes remained locked to Aimias' features, the very thoughts that had brought her into this office now flitting off into space as if she'd never thought them at all. Her attempt at humor had been dry and the insinuation that he had played jailer... She swallowed slightly. Things truly had changed. Her hands squeezing uncomfortably in her lap, Iris found herself tearing her gaze reluctantly from his form. From the finery, the mature greying of his beard, and those eyes the color of the sky.
Had she truly been so stubborn as to walk away? Had her head always been so filled with ideas of grandeur and ambition that she'd failed to really see what she was giving up? Had Iris simply been intent on not giving in to her father's desire for her to marry so much so that she turned away from the one man that she would have actually married in the single beat of a heart?
Iris no longer had that luxury. While men certainly were not clamoring for her hand, she would be hard-pressed to not deny any offer made to her. Were the offer presented to her. With Takis' health failing more and more by the day, Iris had found herself following the ticking of a clock. She'd found herself lingering by her father's room hoping that she could still hear the deep, exhausted breathing, sometimes the soft snoring. She'd woken herself into a cold sweat many a time out of fear that she would be fast asleep when he left this plane.
Swallowing, Iris let her gaze wander the shelves once more, "Things have changed so much," she finally murmured. The burn of shame settled at the back of her neck and Iris found herself staring down at her hands in her lap. "It has been... far too long," she admitted. It was hard enough to admit that she had made a grave mistake in walking away and never once looking back... but it was even more difficult to admit that life had been lonelier. The normal din of the quiet made even more pronounced by the lack of voice or missive.
Once more, Iris reminded herself that she had done it out of duty and responsibility to her father. As his only living child, his duties had fallen to her. If she'd stayed and told Aimias her true feelings, her affirmation of his own admittance to her, then the duties would have fallen to them both.
Yet, it was too late to wish for that. Aimias had his own life. She had no right to come in and ask for anything more. Lifting her head, she still resolved to apologize for her mistake. "I simply wished to thank you, Aimias. For your kindness all those years ago," she admitted, "And apologize for never giving you an answer. Circumstances... they were sudden and I found myself with what I thought was little other choice at the time."
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How long had it been since any single man's voice had turned her head like this? Whatever feelings the Argyris woman had buried all those years ago, they gnawed at the pit of her stomach now. To a point in which she shifted slightly in her seat, Iris found herself observing him closely, ignoring the anxious bubbling and fluttering of wings in her chest. It had been years since she'd heard his voice, let alone her name rolling off his tongue.
She had to recall her propriety. Whatever had happened in the last ten years neither of them were privy to. At least not yet. But Iris could see it in the salt and pepper of his beard and the way that he positioned himself in his chair. If she weren't mistaken, he was either guarded or disinterested in whatever it was she had to say. Then again, Iris also had to remind herself of his expression not minutes before.
The stunned silence and inability to speak a single word at just her appearance.
Guarded maybe, but not disinterested.
Green eyes remained locked to Aimias' features, the very thoughts that had brought her into this office now flitting off into space as if she'd never thought them at all. Her attempt at humor had been dry and the insinuation that he had played jailer... She swallowed slightly. Things truly had changed. Her hands squeezing uncomfortably in her lap, Iris found herself tearing her gaze reluctantly from his form. From the finery, the mature greying of his beard, and those eyes the color of the sky.
Had she truly been so stubborn as to walk away? Had her head always been so filled with ideas of grandeur and ambition that she'd failed to really see what she was giving up? Had Iris simply been intent on not giving in to her father's desire for her to marry so much so that she turned away from the one man that she would have actually married in the single beat of a heart?
Iris no longer had that luxury. While men certainly were not clamoring for her hand, she would be hard-pressed to not deny any offer made to her. Were the offer presented to her. With Takis' health failing more and more by the day, Iris had found herself following the ticking of a clock. She'd found herself lingering by her father's room hoping that she could still hear the deep, exhausted breathing, sometimes the soft snoring. She'd woken herself into a cold sweat many a time out of fear that she would be fast asleep when he left this plane.
Swallowing, Iris let her gaze wander the shelves once more, "Things have changed so much," she finally murmured. The burn of shame settled at the back of her neck and Iris found herself staring down at her hands in her lap. "It has been... far too long," she admitted. It was hard enough to admit that she had made a grave mistake in walking away and never once looking back... but it was even more difficult to admit that life had been lonelier. The normal din of the quiet made even more pronounced by the lack of voice or missive.
Once more, Iris reminded herself that she had done it out of duty and responsibility to her father. As his only living child, his duties had fallen to her. If she'd stayed and told Aimias her true feelings, her affirmation of his own admittance to her, then the duties would have fallen to them both.
Yet, it was too late to wish for that. Aimias had his own life. She had no right to come in and ask for anything more. Lifting her head, she still resolved to apologize for her mistake. "I simply wished to thank you, Aimias. For your kindness all those years ago," she admitted, "And apologize for never giving you an answer. Circumstances... they were sudden and I found myself with what I thought was little other choice at the time."
How long had it been since any single man's voice had turned her head like this? Whatever feelings the Argyris woman had buried all those years ago, they gnawed at the pit of her stomach now. To a point in which she shifted slightly in her seat, Iris found herself observing him closely, ignoring the anxious bubbling and fluttering of wings in her chest. It had been years since she'd heard his voice, let alone her name rolling off his tongue.
She had to recall her propriety. Whatever had happened in the last ten years neither of them were privy to. At least not yet. But Iris could see it in the salt and pepper of his beard and the way that he positioned himself in his chair. If she weren't mistaken, he was either guarded or disinterested in whatever it was she had to say. Then again, Iris also had to remind herself of his expression not minutes before.
The stunned silence and inability to speak a single word at just her appearance.
Guarded maybe, but not disinterested.
Green eyes remained locked to Aimias' features, the very thoughts that had brought her into this office now flitting off into space as if she'd never thought them at all. Her attempt at humor had been dry and the insinuation that he had played jailer... She swallowed slightly. Things truly had changed. Her hands squeezing uncomfortably in her lap, Iris found herself tearing her gaze reluctantly from his form. From the finery, the mature greying of his beard, and those eyes the color of the sky.
Had she truly been so stubborn as to walk away? Had her head always been so filled with ideas of grandeur and ambition that she'd failed to really see what she was giving up? Had Iris simply been intent on not giving in to her father's desire for her to marry so much so that she turned away from the one man that she would have actually married in the single beat of a heart?
Iris no longer had that luxury. While men certainly were not clamoring for her hand, she would be hard-pressed to not deny any offer made to her. Were the offer presented to her. With Takis' health failing more and more by the day, Iris had found herself following the ticking of a clock. She'd found herself lingering by her father's room hoping that she could still hear the deep, exhausted breathing, sometimes the soft snoring. She'd woken herself into a cold sweat many a time out of fear that she would be fast asleep when he left this plane.
Swallowing, Iris let her gaze wander the shelves once more, "Things have changed so much," she finally murmured. The burn of shame settled at the back of her neck and Iris found herself staring down at her hands in her lap. "It has been... far too long," she admitted. It was hard enough to admit that she had made a grave mistake in walking away and never once looking back... but it was even more difficult to admit that life had been lonelier. The normal din of the quiet made even more pronounced by the lack of voice or missive.
Once more, Iris reminded herself that she had done it out of duty and responsibility to her father. As his only living child, his duties had fallen to her. If she'd stayed and told Aimias her true feelings, her affirmation of his own admittance to her, then the duties would have fallen to them both.
Yet, it was too late to wish for that. Aimias had his own life. She had no right to come in and ask for anything more. Lifting her head, she still resolved to apologize for her mistake. "I simply wished to thank you, Aimias. For your kindness all those years ago," she admitted, "And apologize for never giving you an answer. Circumstances... they were sudden and I found myself with what I thought was little other choice at the time."
When his wife had approached him, years ago, he had been just as shocked. At that point in his life, it was obvious that he thought that he would end up alone with his books. Not that he ever saw that as a bad thing, he had told himself. But the family life didn’t seem to be in his future. Until Philipa had come into his life, forcing him to see things besides the words written on the page. There was more to life than his work and his books.
But just as quickly as she’d stolen his heart, she had died in childbirth and left him with a child of his own and a broken heart. He was sure that it would never mend, not even with his sweet daughter’s influence. It had taken him plenty of time to recover, to open up a bit for his daughter. And even that was a challenge. Twice he had opened up, and twice he’d been broken.
It was hard for him to let it happen for the third time.
His hand raised to his chin, the action one of thought and consideration. Aimias was a gentleman, didn’t stare too long, making a quick assessment of her before he focused back on her face. She had matured herself, a very beautiful woman who carried herself with grace and poise. It was nice to see that even with the stressors of her father’s illness, it hadn’t done anything to change her looks.
But she had always been stunning to him.
Perhaps his comment had been a bit dry, any humor in the situation lost. But he wasn’t usually a man in a place to joke. And most of his jokes failed in their delivery, much like this one had. He was not known for his jokes, or for him laid back manner. It took quite some time for people to get used to him, to pick up the subtle jokes he made with his dry and blunt sense of humor. And perhaps that was why he had so few friends. Most people thought his awkwardness was a front and kept him at a distance. But that didn’t mean that he wasn’t able to politically do his job. Unnoticed in most social circles, he could keep to the background and still get the information he needed.
Not quite a spy, but damn near close.
It took him a moment, but he slightly relaxed against his chair. It was a small shift in his posture, barely noticeable to most as his weight moved ever so slightly. But he smiled, the corners of his lips turning up slightly. ”Yes, I suppose it has been a while, hasn’t it. Life has moved and yet time hasn’t seemed to touch you. Just as lovely as ever.”
His hand lifted to brush off her apology, ”It did not take my pride long to heal. Or for me to realize why you had left. That is not your fault. Family is more important.” He was a reasonable man, after all. And while youth may have made the hurt more poignant, that didn’t mean that it didn’t fade with time. While it had seemed far worse at the time, he didn’t hold her to the childhood fantasy. ”How is your father fairing?” He asked gently, dipping into his desk to pull out two wood goblets and a bladder of wine. Pouring each half full, he set one in front of her, hoping that they would move on from the past and instead focus on life as it was now.
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When his wife had approached him, years ago, he had been just as shocked. At that point in his life, it was obvious that he thought that he would end up alone with his books. Not that he ever saw that as a bad thing, he had told himself. But the family life didn’t seem to be in his future. Until Philipa had come into his life, forcing him to see things besides the words written on the page. There was more to life than his work and his books.
But just as quickly as she’d stolen his heart, she had died in childbirth and left him with a child of his own and a broken heart. He was sure that it would never mend, not even with his sweet daughter’s influence. It had taken him plenty of time to recover, to open up a bit for his daughter. And even that was a challenge. Twice he had opened up, and twice he’d been broken.
It was hard for him to let it happen for the third time.
His hand raised to his chin, the action one of thought and consideration. Aimias was a gentleman, didn’t stare too long, making a quick assessment of her before he focused back on her face. She had matured herself, a very beautiful woman who carried herself with grace and poise. It was nice to see that even with the stressors of her father’s illness, it hadn’t done anything to change her looks.
But she had always been stunning to him.
Perhaps his comment had been a bit dry, any humor in the situation lost. But he wasn’t usually a man in a place to joke. And most of his jokes failed in their delivery, much like this one had. He was not known for his jokes, or for him laid back manner. It took quite some time for people to get used to him, to pick up the subtle jokes he made with his dry and blunt sense of humor. And perhaps that was why he had so few friends. Most people thought his awkwardness was a front and kept him at a distance. But that didn’t mean that he wasn’t able to politically do his job. Unnoticed in most social circles, he could keep to the background and still get the information he needed.
Not quite a spy, but damn near close.
It took him a moment, but he slightly relaxed against his chair. It was a small shift in his posture, barely noticeable to most as his weight moved ever so slightly. But he smiled, the corners of his lips turning up slightly. ”Yes, I suppose it has been a while, hasn’t it. Life has moved and yet time hasn’t seemed to touch you. Just as lovely as ever.”
His hand lifted to brush off her apology, ”It did not take my pride long to heal. Or for me to realize why you had left. That is not your fault. Family is more important.” He was a reasonable man, after all. And while youth may have made the hurt more poignant, that didn’t mean that it didn’t fade with time. While it had seemed far worse at the time, he didn’t hold her to the childhood fantasy. ”How is your father fairing?” He asked gently, dipping into his desk to pull out two wood goblets and a bladder of wine. Pouring each half full, he set one in front of her, hoping that they would move on from the past and instead focus on life as it was now.
When his wife had approached him, years ago, he had been just as shocked. At that point in his life, it was obvious that he thought that he would end up alone with his books. Not that he ever saw that as a bad thing, he had told himself. But the family life didn’t seem to be in his future. Until Philipa had come into his life, forcing him to see things besides the words written on the page. There was more to life than his work and his books.
But just as quickly as she’d stolen his heart, she had died in childbirth and left him with a child of his own and a broken heart. He was sure that it would never mend, not even with his sweet daughter’s influence. It had taken him plenty of time to recover, to open up a bit for his daughter. And even that was a challenge. Twice he had opened up, and twice he’d been broken.
It was hard for him to let it happen for the third time.
His hand raised to his chin, the action one of thought and consideration. Aimias was a gentleman, didn’t stare too long, making a quick assessment of her before he focused back on her face. She had matured herself, a very beautiful woman who carried herself with grace and poise. It was nice to see that even with the stressors of her father’s illness, it hadn’t done anything to change her looks.
But she had always been stunning to him.
Perhaps his comment had been a bit dry, any humor in the situation lost. But he wasn’t usually a man in a place to joke. And most of his jokes failed in their delivery, much like this one had. He was not known for his jokes, or for him laid back manner. It took quite some time for people to get used to him, to pick up the subtle jokes he made with his dry and blunt sense of humor. And perhaps that was why he had so few friends. Most people thought his awkwardness was a front and kept him at a distance. But that didn’t mean that he wasn’t able to politically do his job. Unnoticed in most social circles, he could keep to the background and still get the information he needed.
Not quite a spy, but damn near close.
It took him a moment, but he slightly relaxed against his chair. It was a small shift in his posture, barely noticeable to most as his weight moved ever so slightly. But he smiled, the corners of his lips turning up slightly. ”Yes, I suppose it has been a while, hasn’t it. Life has moved and yet time hasn’t seemed to touch you. Just as lovely as ever.”
His hand lifted to brush off her apology, ”It did not take my pride long to heal. Or for me to realize why you had left. That is not your fault. Family is more important.” He was a reasonable man, after all. And while youth may have made the hurt more poignant, that didn’t mean that it didn’t fade with time. While it had seemed far worse at the time, he didn’t hold her to the childhood fantasy. ”How is your father fairing?” He asked gently, dipping into his desk to pull out two wood goblets and a bladder of wine. Pouring each half full, he set one in front of her, hoping that they would move on from the past and instead focus on life as it was now.
Letting green eyes wander his form once more, she caught the slight shift of his body. One would think that she may have forgotten the little things over the last ten years, but she honestly hadn't. His mannerisms had matured, but they were similar. Similar enough to remain completely and entirely comforting and familiar. Clearly, Aimias wasn't going to be entirely guarded against her.
That was good.
She may fair well in rekindling their own friendship yet.
Lifting her chin, Iris let a quiet smile grace her lips. The compliment didn't go unnoticed, but it also wasn't as if she really knew how to act on it anymore. Still, it was an odd feeling, to smile. Many of the past few years hadn't exactly been filled with happiness or joy. It had simply been dutiful requirements and mounds of work that never ended. It kept her busy enough to not think about the fact that she might very well end up a spinster, much to her father's dismay.
Iris tilted her head as she thought through his question. With others, it would have felt out of the blue to be asked that, regardless of the fact that everyone could see that Takis was struggling. But this was Aimias. He had information that most others did not and Iris had to expect that Aimias would have found out. Whether by Persephone's correspondence with the Lady of Aetaea or simple talk that floated in and out of the provinces.
"Truthfully," Iris started after mulling over the correct words, "My father is very tired. He's admitted that it won't be long now until his illness takes him. Though, he's deadset on attending the senate vote despite any protests about his wellbeing from me," Iris murmured, smoothing out the fabric of her gown under carefully kept nails. "The attack on Princess Persephone has me on edge and I worry about the safety of so many bodies in one place," she continued, giving a weak smile. "But my father would be disappointed if all we did was talk about his health, Aimias."
Shifting to sit up straighter and even lean a little forward in keen interest, Iris pressed a loose lock of hair out of her face. "How are you fairing? You can't be all that relaxed with all that is going on," Iris turned the question around on him. Half out of curiosity, half out of selfishness to know just exactly how well he had done for himself over the last ten years. What had changed? What had happened? Did he have a family of his own?
All questions that Iris silently willed answers for.
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Letting green eyes wander his form once more, she caught the slight shift of his body. One would think that she may have forgotten the little things over the last ten years, but she honestly hadn't. His mannerisms had matured, but they were similar. Similar enough to remain completely and entirely comforting and familiar. Clearly, Aimias wasn't going to be entirely guarded against her.
That was good.
She may fair well in rekindling their own friendship yet.
Lifting her chin, Iris let a quiet smile grace her lips. The compliment didn't go unnoticed, but it also wasn't as if she really knew how to act on it anymore. Still, it was an odd feeling, to smile. Many of the past few years hadn't exactly been filled with happiness or joy. It had simply been dutiful requirements and mounds of work that never ended. It kept her busy enough to not think about the fact that she might very well end up a spinster, much to her father's dismay.
Iris tilted her head as she thought through his question. With others, it would have felt out of the blue to be asked that, regardless of the fact that everyone could see that Takis was struggling. But this was Aimias. He had information that most others did not and Iris had to expect that Aimias would have found out. Whether by Persephone's correspondence with the Lady of Aetaea or simple talk that floated in and out of the provinces.
"Truthfully," Iris started after mulling over the correct words, "My father is very tired. He's admitted that it won't be long now until his illness takes him. Though, he's deadset on attending the senate vote despite any protests about his wellbeing from me," Iris murmured, smoothing out the fabric of her gown under carefully kept nails. "The attack on Princess Persephone has me on edge and I worry about the safety of so many bodies in one place," she continued, giving a weak smile. "But my father would be disappointed if all we did was talk about his health, Aimias."
Shifting to sit up straighter and even lean a little forward in keen interest, Iris pressed a loose lock of hair out of her face. "How are you fairing? You can't be all that relaxed with all that is going on," Iris turned the question around on him. Half out of curiosity, half out of selfishness to know just exactly how well he had done for himself over the last ten years. What had changed? What had happened? Did he have a family of his own?
All questions that Iris silently willed answers for.
Letting green eyes wander his form once more, she caught the slight shift of his body. One would think that she may have forgotten the little things over the last ten years, but she honestly hadn't. His mannerisms had matured, but they were similar. Similar enough to remain completely and entirely comforting and familiar. Clearly, Aimias wasn't going to be entirely guarded against her.
That was good.
She may fair well in rekindling their own friendship yet.
Lifting her chin, Iris let a quiet smile grace her lips. The compliment didn't go unnoticed, but it also wasn't as if she really knew how to act on it anymore. Still, it was an odd feeling, to smile. Many of the past few years hadn't exactly been filled with happiness or joy. It had simply been dutiful requirements and mounds of work that never ended. It kept her busy enough to not think about the fact that she might very well end up a spinster, much to her father's dismay.
Iris tilted her head as she thought through his question. With others, it would have felt out of the blue to be asked that, regardless of the fact that everyone could see that Takis was struggling. But this was Aimias. He had information that most others did not and Iris had to expect that Aimias would have found out. Whether by Persephone's correspondence with the Lady of Aetaea or simple talk that floated in and out of the provinces.
"Truthfully," Iris started after mulling over the correct words, "My father is very tired. He's admitted that it won't be long now until his illness takes him. Though, he's deadset on attending the senate vote despite any protests about his wellbeing from me," Iris murmured, smoothing out the fabric of her gown under carefully kept nails. "The attack on Princess Persephone has me on edge and I worry about the safety of so many bodies in one place," she continued, giving a weak smile. "But my father would be disappointed if all we did was talk about his health, Aimias."
Shifting to sit up straighter and even lean a little forward in keen interest, Iris pressed a loose lock of hair out of her face. "How are you fairing? You can't be all that relaxed with all that is going on," Iris turned the question around on him. Half out of curiosity, half out of selfishness to know just exactly how well he had done for himself over the last ten years. What had changed? What had happened? Did he have a family of his own?
All questions that Iris silently willed answers for.
There was something in the air, something he couldn’t quite place. With her, things has always felt a little different, certainly nothing like with his first wife, Philipa. Where as with his wife, there was a quick flash of heat, followed by burn that consumed him until her death. With Iris, it was a slow burn, one that he didn’t even realize had started until it was out. Aimias wasn’t even sure he could consider it romance, since they had barely gone more than just a curious flirtation.
Both surprised him, but in different ways.
He wished he had more to ask, but he had known the truth about her father before she spoke it. The whispers in the senate were surrounding his eminent death and the fate of his daughter, and Aimias was always in the know. He may have not been the Master of Secrets, but he had almost as much knowledge as the man did. He had known how sick the man was. And he had known just how worried he was for his daughter’s future. He’d asked her about it because he wanted to hear her perspective on the matter.
”Any father would be concerned about an unmarried daughter when there is no heir.” Aimias commented, matter of factly. He was sure he would feel the same, in Takis’ position. His own daughter was motherless with little to inherit. But he could hope that she would benefit from him position in the royal house and would make a good match, when the time came. ”A threat of a throne without an heir is stressful on any kingdom.” His change of topic was a little out of place. ”But Minas is doing everything he can to ensure Xanthos will maintain the title.” He couldn’t go into much detail about it, since so much of it was still top secret. And he wasn’t sure he needed to reassure her.
”People do not doubt Persephone. Or the Xanthos family on the throne. Their doubt is based on gender and her unmarried status. She is engaged and ready to take the throne. She is loved by the people. I am not as worried about it as others.” Nervous about the vote? Maybe. But not worried. They had everything lined up to argue in their favor. And with the evidence against Elias lining up nicely, there was no reason not to allow Persephone to take the throne when he father died.
And if the Gods were understanding, they would wait until the princess was married before taking the life of the King. That would only strengthen the claim.
Her question about him made him shrug. ”I am well. My daughter is well. That’s the best I can hope for.” He didn’t go any further than that. After all, he was a brief and blunt man. She asked, he answered.
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There was something in the air, something he couldn’t quite place. With her, things has always felt a little different, certainly nothing like with his first wife, Philipa. Where as with his wife, there was a quick flash of heat, followed by burn that consumed him until her death. With Iris, it was a slow burn, one that he didn’t even realize had started until it was out. Aimias wasn’t even sure he could consider it romance, since they had barely gone more than just a curious flirtation.
Both surprised him, but in different ways.
He wished he had more to ask, but he had known the truth about her father before she spoke it. The whispers in the senate were surrounding his eminent death and the fate of his daughter, and Aimias was always in the know. He may have not been the Master of Secrets, but he had almost as much knowledge as the man did. He had known how sick the man was. And he had known just how worried he was for his daughter’s future. He’d asked her about it because he wanted to hear her perspective on the matter.
”Any father would be concerned about an unmarried daughter when there is no heir.” Aimias commented, matter of factly. He was sure he would feel the same, in Takis’ position. His own daughter was motherless with little to inherit. But he could hope that she would benefit from him position in the royal house and would make a good match, when the time came. ”A threat of a throne without an heir is stressful on any kingdom.” His change of topic was a little out of place. ”But Minas is doing everything he can to ensure Xanthos will maintain the title.” He couldn’t go into much detail about it, since so much of it was still top secret. And he wasn’t sure he needed to reassure her.
”People do not doubt Persephone. Or the Xanthos family on the throne. Their doubt is based on gender and her unmarried status. She is engaged and ready to take the throne. She is loved by the people. I am not as worried about it as others.” Nervous about the vote? Maybe. But not worried. They had everything lined up to argue in their favor. And with the evidence against Elias lining up nicely, there was no reason not to allow Persephone to take the throne when he father died.
And if the Gods were understanding, they would wait until the princess was married before taking the life of the King. That would only strengthen the claim.
Her question about him made him shrug. ”I am well. My daughter is well. That’s the best I can hope for.” He didn’t go any further than that. After all, he was a brief and blunt man. She asked, he answered.
There was something in the air, something he couldn’t quite place. With her, things has always felt a little different, certainly nothing like with his first wife, Philipa. Where as with his wife, there was a quick flash of heat, followed by burn that consumed him until her death. With Iris, it was a slow burn, one that he didn’t even realize had started until it was out. Aimias wasn’t even sure he could consider it romance, since they had barely gone more than just a curious flirtation.
Both surprised him, but in different ways.
He wished he had more to ask, but he had known the truth about her father before she spoke it. The whispers in the senate were surrounding his eminent death and the fate of his daughter, and Aimias was always in the know. He may have not been the Master of Secrets, but he had almost as much knowledge as the man did. He had known how sick the man was. And he had known just how worried he was for his daughter’s future. He’d asked her about it because he wanted to hear her perspective on the matter.
”Any father would be concerned about an unmarried daughter when there is no heir.” Aimias commented, matter of factly. He was sure he would feel the same, in Takis’ position. His own daughter was motherless with little to inherit. But he could hope that she would benefit from him position in the royal house and would make a good match, when the time came. ”A threat of a throne without an heir is stressful on any kingdom.” His change of topic was a little out of place. ”But Minas is doing everything he can to ensure Xanthos will maintain the title.” He couldn’t go into much detail about it, since so much of it was still top secret. And he wasn’t sure he needed to reassure her.
”People do not doubt Persephone. Or the Xanthos family on the throne. Their doubt is based on gender and her unmarried status. She is engaged and ready to take the throne. She is loved by the people. I am not as worried about it as others.” Nervous about the vote? Maybe. But not worried. They had everything lined up to argue in their favor. And with the evidence against Elias lining up nicely, there was no reason not to allow Persephone to take the throne when he father died.
And if the Gods were understanding, they would wait until the princess was married before taking the life of the King. That would only strengthen the claim.
Her question about him made him shrug. ”I am well. My daughter is well. That’s the best I can hope for.” He didn’t go any further than that. After all, he was a brief and blunt man. She asked, he answered.
The lady felt heat settling in her cheeks at the comment about being unmarried and having no heir. That had been at the forefront of her mind over the last few weeks that she'd been back in Athenia. But she had constantly reminded herself of incidents like the one with Lord Rafail of Marikas and promptly remembered why, exactly, noble men interested her very little. Entitled brutes, many of them, but even more still would likely seek to break her, wear her down into someone and something she could not be.
Noble Iris was, but wild was her heart. Wild, passionate, and more ambitious than she likely deserved to be.
"I hope to change that, as was my intention in returning to court," Iris said softly, shifting anxiously.
Iris might have flinched at the mention of a daughter had the thought of Aimias as a father not melted her just a little. She could only imagine the wonderment he had felt when she was first born, a feeling Takis had said time and time again had gripped him like fear or mortification. Takis had been a single parent as soon as Iris had ripped into the world, screaming as loud as any new babe. But if Aimias had a daughter, that likely meant he had married as well.
And she felt nothing but quiet, happy, joyful relief at that thought.
So he hadn’t let his awkwardness or the shortness of his words keep him from meeting someone. Iris’ smile grew on her features, green eyes alight with curiosity and blatant well-wishing. Shifting slightly in her chair, Iris let her gaze wander Aimias' form once more, contemplating her next words and attempting to quell the innate curiosity in her bones. Yet, curiosity won out and the words tumbled out before she could stop herself. "How old is she?" Iris questioned softly, tilting her head slightly.
Iris settled her hands back into her lap, quietly adding onto her first question. "I'm happy that you found someone, Aimias," she conceded gently. In truth, it made her overwhelmingly happy that her old friend had found a proper sort of happiness. He, above most people, deserved it.
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The lady felt heat settling in her cheeks at the comment about being unmarried and having no heir. That had been at the forefront of her mind over the last few weeks that she'd been back in Athenia. But she had constantly reminded herself of incidents like the one with Lord Rafail of Marikas and promptly remembered why, exactly, noble men interested her very little. Entitled brutes, many of them, but even more still would likely seek to break her, wear her down into someone and something she could not be.
Noble Iris was, but wild was her heart. Wild, passionate, and more ambitious than she likely deserved to be.
"I hope to change that, as was my intention in returning to court," Iris said softly, shifting anxiously.
Iris might have flinched at the mention of a daughter had the thought of Aimias as a father not melted her just a little. She could only imagine the wonderment he had felt when she was first born, a feeling Takis had said time and time again had gripped him like fear or mortification. Takis had been a single parent as soon as Iris had ripped into the world, screaming as loud as any new babe. But if Aimias had a daughter, that likely meant he had married as well.
And she felt nothing but quiet, happy, joyful relief at that thought.
So he hadn’t let his awkwardness or the shortness of his words keep him from meeting someone. Iris’ smile grew on her features, green eyes alight with curiosity and blatant well-wishing. Shifting slightly in her chair, Iris let her gaze wander Aimias' form once more, contemplating her next words and attempting to quell the innate curiosity in her bones. Yet, curiosity won out and the words tumbled out before she could stop herself. "How old is she?" Iris questioned softly, tilting her head slightly.
Iris settled her hands back into her lap, quietly adding onto her first question. "I'm happy that you found someone, Aimias," she conceded gently. In truth, it made her overwhelmingly happy that her old friend had found a proper sort of happiness. He, above most people, deserved it.
The lady felt heat settling in her cheeks at the comment about being unmarried and having no heir. That had been at the forefront of her mind over the last few weeks that she'd been back in Athenia. But she had constantly reminded herself of incidents like the one with Lord Rafail of Marikas and promptly remembered why, exactly, noble men interested her very little. Entitled brutes, many of them, but even more still would likely seek to break her, wear her down into someone and something she could not be.
Noble Iris was, but wild was her heart. Wild, passionate, and more ambitious than she likely deserved to be.
"I hope to change that, as was my intention in returning to court," Iris said softly, shifting anxiously.
Iris might have flinched at the mention of a daughter had the thought of Aimias as a father not melted her just a little. She could only imagine the wonderment he had felt when she was first born, a feeling Takis had said time and time again had gripped him like fear or mortification. Takis had been a single parent as soon as Iris had ripped into the world, screaming as loud as any new babe. But if Aimias had a daughter, that likely meant he had married as well.
And she felt nothing but quiet, happy, joyful relief at that thought.
So he hadn’t let his awkwardness or the shortness of his words keep him from meeting someone. Iris’ smile grew on her features, green eyes alight with curiosity and blatant well-wishing. Shifting slightly in her chair, Iris let her gaze wander Aimias' form once more, contemplating her next words and attempting to quell the innate curiosity in her bones. Yet, curiosity won out and the words tumbled out before she could stop herself. "How old is she?" Iris questioned softly, tilting her head slightly.
Iris settled her hands back into her lap, quietly adding onto her first question. "I'm happy that you found someone, Aimias," she conceded gently. In truth, it made her overwhelmingly happy that her old friend had found a proper sort of happiness. He, above most people, deserved it.
Aimias did not envy those in her position. There was a pressure that came with needed to wed, for both men and women. And the fairer sex had it far worse. A man who didn’t marry only lost in death. A woman who remained unwed was often cast as unfit, or barren. Unless they came from wealth, destitution was their lot in life. Spinsters with ambitions were still spinsters.
Iris was a beautiful woman, and with the potential of a good title and fertile lands to go with it, she should have no difficulty finding her pick of suitable men. He remembered her from her younger days, asking questions, pushing to learn more. She was rebellious from the start since they’d met in the library. Her presence there was uncommon, something men would point out as she enjoyed his company in its halls.
He gave her a smile, ”I do not imagine you will have many issues. You are a beautiful woman with much to offer. I hope you are able to make a good match. Truly.” Aimias’s word could not have been truer. There was no reason he didn’t want her to succeed. She deserved a peaceful life, deserved someone who would be able to support her in the rough time ahead. She would have to deal with the death of her father, would have to cope with what life was like without him. And she would need a strong husband to help her with that.
Her question as to his daughter brought a rare smile to her face. ”She is two. As strong-willed as her mother.” He thought of his wife, for the first time in a few days. Thought of how they had met, how persistent she had been. And how she had won him over. Only to have her taken from him after a few months of marriage, in childbirth. She had done her duty, had provided him with a child, and it had killed her. There had been a time when he blamed the baby, but eventually warmed up to her, and loved her for all the same things she did.
As she noted her happiness, there was a slight drop in his smile. The corners not so high. ”My wife died during childbirth. It is just me and Philipa.” He clarified, not seeing much of a need to dance around the topic. She was dead, and she wasn’t going to come back. He’d come to terms with it, and he knew she would soon hear about it if she asked about it. ”She was a good woman, but the Gods felt it was her time.” He didn’t want to think about it anymore, a small tug at his heart in the loss. Aimias let the topic fall, moving on so she didn’t feel the need to say anything about his loss.
He’d heard enough of that to last him 3 lifetimes.
”I stay busy with my job to the people. And my daughter has found happiness with a new governess here. We are happy.” He wanted to reassure her so that she didn’t feel bad in her noted happiness for him. After all, he wasn’t mourning anymore. And he was happy.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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Aimias did not envy those in her position. There was a pressure that came with needed to wed, for both men and women. And the fairer sex had it far worse. A man who didn’t marry only lost in death. A woman who remained unwed was often cast as unfit, or barren. Unless they came from wealth, destitution was their lot in life. Spinsters with ambitions were still spinsters.
Iris was a beautiful woman, and with the potential of a good title and fertile lands to go with it, she should have no difficulty finding her pick of suitable men. He remembered her from her younger days, asking questions, pushing to learn more. She was rebellious from the start since they’d met in the library. Her presence there was uncommon, something men would point out as she enjoyed his company in its halls.
He gave her a smile, ”I do not imagine you will have many issues. You are a beautiful woman with much to offer. I hope you are able to make a good match. Truly.” Aimias’s word could not have been truer. There was no reason he didn’t want her to succeed. She deserved a peaceful life, deserved someone who would be able to support her in the rough time ahead. She would have to deal with the death of her father, would have to cope with what life was like without him. And she would need a strong husband to help her with that.
Her question as to his daughter brought a rare smile to her face. ”She is two. As strong-willed as her mother.” He thought of his wife, for the first time in a few days. Thought of how they had met, how persistent she had been. And how she had won him over. Only to have her taken from him after a few months of marriage, in childbirth. She had done her duty, had provided him with a child, and it had killed her. There had been a time when he blamed the baby, but eventually warmed up to her, and loved her for all the same things she did.
As she noted her happiness, there was a slight drop in his smile. The corners not so high. ”My wife died during childbirth. It is just me and Philipa.” He clarified, not seeing much of a need to dance around the topic. She was dead, and she wasn’t going to come back. He’d come to terms with it, and he knew she would soon hear about it if she asked about it. ”She was a good woman, but the Gods felt it was her time.” He didn’t want to think about it anymore, a small tug at his heart in the loss. Aimias let the topic fall, moving on so she didn’t feel the need to say anything about his loss.
He’d heard enough of that to last him 3 lifetimes.
”I stay busy with my job to the people. And my daughter has found happiness with a new governess here. We are happy.” He wanted to reassure her so that she didn’t feel bad in her noted happiness for him. After all, he wasn’t mourning anymore. And he was happy.
Aimias did not envy those in her position. There was a pressure that came with needed to wed, for both men and women. And the fairer sex had it far worse. A man who didn’t marry only lost in death. A woman who remained unwed was often cast as unfit, or barren. Unless they came from wealth, destitution was their lot in life. Spinsters with ambitions were still spinsters.
Iris was a beautiful woman, and with the potential of a good title and fertile lands to go with it, she should have no difficulty finding her pick of suitable men. He remembered her from her younger days, asking questions, pushing to learn more. She was rebellious from the start since they’d met in the library. Her presence there was uncommon, something men would point out as she enjoyed his company in its halls.
He gave her a smile, ”I do not imagine you will have many issues. You are a beautiful woman with much to offer. I hope you are able to make a good match. Truly.” Aimias’s word could not have been truer. There was no reason he didn’t want her to succeed. She deserved a peaceful life, deserved someone who would be able to support her in the rough time ahead. She would have to deal with the death of her father, would have to cope with what life was like without him. And she would need a strong husband to help her with that.
Her question as to his daughter brought a rare smile to her face. ”She is two. As strong-willed as her mother.” He thought of his wife, for the first time in a few days. Thought of how they had met, how persistent she had been. And how she had won him over. Only to have her taken from him after a few months of marriage, in childbirth. She had done her duty, had provided him with a child, and it had killed her. There had been a time when he blamed the baby, but eventually warmed up to her, and loved her for all the same things she did.
As she noted her happiness, there was a slight drop in his smile. The corners not so high. ”My wife died during childbirth. It is just me and Philipa.” He clarified, not seeing much of a need to dance around the topic. She was dead, and she wasn’t going to come back. He’d come to terms with it, and he knew she would soon hear about it if she asked about it. ”She was a good woman, but the Gods felt it was her time.” He didn’t want to think about it anymore, a small tug at his heart in the loss. Aimias let the topic fall, moving on so she didn’t feel the need to say anything about his loss.
He’d heard enough of that to last him 3 lifetimes.
”I stay busy with my job to the people. And my daughter has found happiness with a new governess here. We are happy.” He wanted to reassure her so that she didn’t feel bad in her noted happiness for him. After all, he wasn’t mourning anymore. And he was happy.
The smile that had graced the woman's lips at the mention of his daughter and wife soon faltered. In that one, singular moment, Iris felt a twinge of embarrassment for not doing her research before approaching her old friend. Refusing to shift uncomfortably as she might have in a more relaxed situation, her hands moved from her lap to the arms of the chair, her expression thoughtful, apologetic, and kind. If Iris had caused the man any pain in bringing up his lost love, it surely hadn’t been intentional. She really only had herself to blame for not making the proper inquiries before she had approached him again.
She had been the slightest bit naive in thinking that continuing their back and forth game from ten years ago was a good idea. It hadn't been, but Iris still found herself happy and relaxed in his presence.
His daughter sounded like a blessing and Iris’ smile returned briefly, “She sounds lovely,” Iris said quietly, feeling a tad bit resigned in that moment. The lady quietly kicked herself for making things awkward in only a matter of moments. Clearing her throat, knowing that Aimias didnt want to speak about his wife, Iris only added an “I am sorry for your loss,” and left it entirely at that. People were always quick to give condolences. And sometimes they became overbearing and overwhelming. Takis had mentioned how many times people had apologized for her mother’s death. It hadn't been their fault, so what was the point in dwelling on it for so long? The reminders had only frustrated her father.
“But I am happy that you are happy,” Iris offered, her hands moving from the arms of the chair back into her lap in an almost anxious fashion. Her cheeks flushed slightly with her embarrassment from earlier, Iris let her gaze wander the room once more. She took that moment of awkward silence to slip back to her feet.
“I’ve kept you from court, Aimias. I’ve kept us both from court… should we return?” she said quietly, her hands resting in front of her. Iris told herself not to wring her fingers together. She would stay if he had more to say, but she felt keen on not embarrassing herself further.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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The smile that had graced the woman's lips at the mention of his daughter and wife soon faltered. In that one, singular moment, Iris felt a twinge of embarrassment for not doing her research before approaching her old friend. Refusing to shift uncomfortably as she might have in a more relaxed situation, her hands moved from her lap to the arms of the chair, her expression thoughtful, apologetic, and kind. If Iris had caused the man any pain in bringing up his lost love, it surely hadn’t been intentional. She really only had herself to blame for not making the proper inquiries before she had approached him again.
She had been the slightest bit naive in thinking that continuing their back and forth game from ten years ago was a good idea. It hadn't been, but Iris still found herself happy and relaxed in his presence.
His daughter sounded like a blessing and Iris’ smile returned briefly, “She sounds lovely,” Iris said quietly, feeling a tad bit resigned in that moment. The lady quietly kicked herself for making things awkward in only a matter of moments. Clearing her throat, knowing that Aimias didnt want to speak about his wife, Iris only added an “I am sorry for your loss,” and left it entirely at that. People were always quick to give condolences. And sometimes they became overbearing and overwhelming. Takis had mentioned how many times people had apologized for her mother’s death. It hadn't been their fault, so what was the point in dwelling on it for so long? The reminders had only frustrated her father.
“But I am happy that you are happy,” Iris offered, her hands moving from the arms of the chair back into her lap in an almost anxious fashion. Her cheeks flushed slightly with her embarrassment from earlier, Iris let her gaze wander the room once more. She took that moment of awkward silence to slip back to her feet.
“I’ve kept you from court, Aimias. I’ve kept us both from court… should we return?” she said quietly, her hands resting in front of her. Iris told herself not to wring her fingers together. She would stay if he had more to say, but she felt keen on not embarrassing herself further.
The smile that had graced the woman's lips at the mention of his daughter and wife soon faltered. In that one, singular moment, Iris felt a twinge of embarrassment for not doing her research before approaching her old friend. Refusing to shift uncomfortably as she might have in a more relaxed situation, her hands moved from her lap to the arms of the chair, her expression thoughtful, apologetic, and kind. If Iris had caused the man any pain in bringing up his lost love, it surely hadn’t been intentional. She really only had herself to blame for not making the proper inquiries before she had approached him again.
She had been the slightest bit naive in thinking that continuing their back and forth game from ten years ago was a good idea. It hadn't been, but Iris still found herself happy and relaxed in his presence.
His daughter sounded like a blessing and Iris’ smile returned briefly, “She sounds lovely,” Iris said quietly, feeling a tad bit resigned in that moment. The lady quietly kicked herself for making things awkward in only a matter of moments. Clearing her throat, knowing that Aimias didnt want to speak about his wife, Iris only added an “I am sorry for your loss,” and left it entirely at that. People were always quick to give condolences. And sometimes they became overbearing and overwhelming. Takis had mentioned how many times people had apologized for her mother’s death. It hadn't been their fault, so what was the point in dwelling on it for so long? The reminders had only frustrated her father.
“But I am happy that you are happy,” Iris offered, her hands moving from the arms of the chair back into her lap in an almost anxious fashion. Her cheeks flushed slightly with her embarrassment from earlier, Iris let her gaze wander the room once more. She took that moment of awkward silence to slip back to her feet.
“I’ve kept you from court, Aimias. I’ve kept us both from court… should we return?” she said quietly, her hands resting in front of her. Iris told herself not to wring her fingers together. She would stay if he had more to say, but she felt keen on not embarrassing herself further.
