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Persephone was working on some papers when the summons finally came. What they were she would remember for all her life. Tax reductions on the province of Aetaea due to required storm reparations. Such an inane and routine thing to be interrupted by the news the servant had come to deliver.
Ordering the polite knocker to enter, as they struck the door a few times in entreaty, Persephone only looked up from her paperwork as she finished reading the appropriate paragraph. When she did, however, her attention was fully on the man across the room from her and her mind upon his agitation.
The man was the head servant to her father. And he was looking urgent and anxious.
Within a heartbeat, Persephone was on her feet and moving quickly around the desk and across the Appolusian rug to stand before the man who quickly stammered that she was to attend to her father.
Her heart squeezing in fear, Persephone skirted around the man quickly and hurried from the room, her skirts whipping around the door frame as she then bustled the length of the corridor, her pace inelegant but she cared nothing for it.
It was as she entered the Xanthos' Private Rooms and turning a corner towards the corridor that lead to her father's suites, that Persephone spotted a blaze of light blue as her sister careened around a corner, led by her own servant. To two of them skidded to a stop, almost colliding with each other, but they both recovered quickly and seemed to react on psychic instinct as they took hold of each other's hands and hurried the last corridor together.
Persephone didn't know about Emilia, but she took a deep breath before reaching out to open the door to their father's chambers, skirted across the living space and moved through the open doorway to his bedroom... Persephone was shocked and made an abrupt sound half way between a gasp and squeal as the Lord Stelios of Antonis suddenly joined her in the hole. While she wasn't sure this was the best idea, she also couldn't - for the life of her - come up with a better one. Therefore, and therein, she said nothing of his choice.
Do not present a problem if you cannot offer at least a half-solution. Her mother had always told her.
Looking between the Lord and the little girl, Persephone was tempted to stay inside the hole with her - to give her a calming and feminine presence in my moments of fear. But this was pure maternal instinct and wasn't ruled by any kind of logic, so she was forced to give in.
Giving the little girl's hand a squeeze, she smiled at her and pointed to the top of the hole.
"I'm going to be just up there, okay? This nice man is going to get you out and then we'll both by up there and not in the cold sand anymore."
Turning back to the Lord, she gave him a hard look.
"Be careful of her leg - you just pull and you'll hurt her - you need to dig her out."
It was only after she had confirmed that with him that she was willing to lift a boot, to place into his joined hands.
It was in that position that she paused, her boot in his hands and her hand on his shoulder, as a voice came from above. Another figure in darkness against the sunlight could be seen looking down at them, jesting at their situation and then offering a hand.
Deciding it was better to be up on the surface and directing the rescue efforts, than actually trying to execute them, Persephone reached up ready to take the offered hand as soon as Stelios pushed her up towards the top of the hole...
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Persephone was working on some papers when the summons finally came. What they were she would remember for all her life. Tax reductions on the province of Aetaea due to required storm reparations. Such an inane and routine thing to be interrupted by the news the servant had come to deliver.
Ordering the polite knocker to enter, as they struck the door a few times in entreaty, Persephone only looked up from her paperwork as she finished reading the appropriate paragraph. When she did, however, her attention was fully on the man across the room from her and her mind upon his agitation.
The man was the head servant to her father. And he was looking urgent and anxious.
Within a heartbeat, Persephone was on her feet and moving quickly around the desk and across the Appolusian rug to stand before the man who quickly stammered that she was to attend to her father.
Her heart squeezing in fear, Persephone skirted around the man quickly and hurried from the room, her skirts whipping around the door frame as she then bustled the length of the corridor, her pace inelegant but she cared nothing for it.
It was as she entered the Xanthos' Private Rooms and turning a corner towards the corridor that lead to her father's suites, that Persephone spotted a blaze of light blue as her sister careened around a corner, led by her own servant. To two of them skidded to a stop, almost colliding with each other, but they both recovered quickly and seemed to react on psychic instinct as they took hold of each other's hands and hurried the last corridor together.
Persephone didn't know about Emilia, but she took a deep breath before reaching out to open the door to their father's chambers, skirted across the living space and moved through the open doorway to his bedroom... Persephone was shocked and made an abrupt sound half way between a gasp and squeal as the Lord Stelios of Antonis suddenly joined her in the hole. While she wasn't sure this was the best idea, she also couldn't - for the life of her - come up with a better one. Therefore, and therein, she said nothing of his choice.
Do not present a problem if you cannot offer at least a half-solution. Her mother had always told her.
Looking between the Lord and the little girl, Persephone was tempted to stay inside the hole with her - to give her a calming and feminine presence in my moments of fear. But this was pure maternal instinct and wasn't ruled by any kind of logic, so she was forced to give in.
Giving the little girl's hand a squeeze, she smiled at her and pointed to the top of the hole.
"I'm going to be just up there, okay? This nice man is going to get you out and then we'll both by up there and not in the cold sand anymore."
Turning back to the Lord, she gave him a hard look.
"Be careful of her leg - you just pull and you'll hurt her - you need to dig her out."
It was only after she had confirmed that with him that she was willing to lift a boot, to place into his joined hands.
It was in that position that she paused, her boot in his hands and her hand on his shoulder, as a voice came from above. Another figure in darkness against the sunlight could be seen looking down at them, jesting at their situation and then offering a hand.
Deciding it was better to be up on the surface and directing the rescue efforts, than actually trying to execute them, Persephone reached up ready to take the offered hand as soon as Stelios pushed her up towards the top of the hole...
Persephone was working on some papers when the summons finally came. What they were she would remember for all her life. Tax reductions on the province of Aetaea due to required storm reparations. Such an inane and routine thing to be interrupted by the news the servant had come to deliver.
Ordering the polite knocker to enter, as they struck the door a few times in entreaty, Persephone only looked up from her paperwork as she finished reading the appropriate paragraph. When she did, however, her attention was fully on the man across the room from her and her mind upon his agitation.
The man was the head servant to her father. And he was looking urgent and anxious.
Within a heartbeat, Persephone was on her feet and moving quickly around the desk and across the Appolusian rug to stand before the man who quickly stammered that she was to attend to her father.
Her heart squeezing in fear, Persephone skirted around the man quickly and hurried from the room, her skirts whipping around the door frame as she then bustled the length of the corridor, her pace inelegant but she cared nothing for it.
It was as she entered the Xanthos' Private Rooms and turning a corner towards the corridor that lead to her father's suites, that Persephone spotted a blaze of light blue as her sister careened around a corner, led by her own servant. To two of them skidded to a stop, almost colliding with each other, but they both recovered quickly and seemed to react on psychic instinct as they took hold of each other's hands and hurried the last corridor together.
Persephone didn't know about Emilia, but she took a deep breath before reaching out to open the door to their father's chambers, skirted across the living space and moved through the open doorway to his bedroom... Persephone was shocked and made an abrupt sound half way between a gasp and squeal as the Lord Stelios of Antonis suddenly joined her in the hole. While she wasn't sure this was the best idea, she also couldn't - for the life of her - come up with a better one. Therefore, and therein, she said nothing of his choice.
Do not present a problem if you cannot offer at least a half-solution. Her mother had always told her.
Looking between the Lord and the little girl, Persephone was tempted to stay inside the hole with her - to give her a calming and feminine presence in my moments of fear. But this was pure maternal instinct and wasn't ruled by any kind of logic, so she was forced to give in.
Giving the little girl's hand a squeeze, she smiled at her and pointed to the top of the hole.
"I'm going to be just up there, okay? This nice man is going to get you out and then we'll both by up there and not in the cold sand anymore."
Turning back to the Lord, she gave him a hard look.
"Be careful of her leg - you just pull and you'll hurt her - you need to dig her out."
It was only after she had confirmed that with him that she was willing to lift a boot, to place into his joined hands.
It was in that position that she paused, her boot in his hands and her hand on his shoulder, as a voice came from above. Another figure in darkness against the sunlight could be seen looking down at them, jesting at their situation and then offering a hand.
Deciding it was better to be up on the surface and directing the rescue efforts, than actually trying to execute them, Persephone reached up ready to take the offered hand as soon as Stelios pushed her up towards the top of the hole...
The night before had been pleasant - sharing a meal with her sister had always been, and with how busy her sister had been ever since the legislative had been passed in the Senate over two weeks ago, it had been a rare chance that Persephone had a time to sit down and enjoy a meal with her youngest sister. Not that Emilia faulted her, really. She felt lonely to a certain extent sure, but the puppy that Nicholai had given her for her birthday almost twenty over days ago helped greatly in elevating that, and the princess had been occupying herself with training. Labros himself was much better now in terms of relieving himself, so long as Emilia remembered to bring him out for his nightly and morning release.
In a way, Labros's schedule had also resulted in Emilia being forced to wake early - something the young one had never enjoyed. She had been determined to see to Labros herself however, and did not take up the offers of her maids to bring the puppy out. So as dawn broke, the rising sun could usually see Emilia on the lawns of the Royal Palati, sleepily wrapped in her gown as the black puppy sniffed around.
But even as she was, this was way too early. Or maybe it was late.
Whatever the hour was, Emilia had been abed when she had been roused, the servant stammering that she was to head to her father's quarters. It took a moment before the reason for the summons sunk in - she had been faintly disappointed when Minas could not join his two daughters for the evening meal, but Emilia knew he had not been well. As such she did her best to not disturb the patriarch, for her to, more rest meant he may be able to get better. And he had to.
He just had to.
So for her to be presented with the news that she was to hurry, Emilia's heart became a lump in her throat. For the first time since receiving him, the princess gave the care of Labros to a younger maid servant, and quickly hurried off. Barefooted with no care for how her hair looked liked a bird's nest, her bleary vision probably contributed to why she almost ran headlong into her sister in their pursuit to their only parent's room, and would've falen had they not quickly caught each other.
Words were unnecessary - the fear was palpable in the eyes of the pair of sisters. Her grip was tight on Persephone's whilst they hurried down the corridor, her chest tight, her breathing shallow. She wished. She hoped. She prayed. Unlike her sister, she was young. And Emilia so wished for her father's strong grip and guidance. Minas had been her only anchor after their mother had passed.
She couldn't imagine him gone.
Following at a more sedate pace behind her sister, Emilia's actions were almost fearful as she made her way across the space that made up her father's private quarters. She didn't know what to expect... but she was terrified that her life would change on its axis.
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 night before had been pleasant - sharing a meal with her sister had always been, and with how busy her sister had been ever since the legislative had been passed in the Senate over two weeks ago, it had been a rare chance that Persephone had a time to sit down and enjoy a meal with her youngest sister. Not that Emilia faulted her, really. She felt lonely to a certain extent sure, but the puppy that Nicholai had given her for her birthday almost twenty over days ago helped greatly in elevating that, and the princess had been occupying herself with training. Labros himself was much better now in terms of relieving himself, so long as Emilia remembered to bring him out for his nightly and morning release.
In a way, Labros's schedule had also resulted in Emilia being forced to wake early - something the young one had never enjoyed. She had been determined to see to Labros herself however, and did not take up the offers of her maids to bring the puppy out. So as dawn broke, the rising sun could usually see Emilia on the lawns of the Royal Palati, sleepily wrapped in her gown as the black puppy sniffed around.
But even as she was, this was way too early. Or maybe it was late.
Whatever the hour was, Emilia had been abed when she had been roused, the servant stammering that she was to head to her father's quarters. It took a moment before the reason for the summons sunk in - she had been faintly disappointed when Minas could not join his two daughters for the evening meal, but Emilia knew he had not been well. As such she did her best to not disturb the patriarch, for her to, more rest meant he may be able to get better. And he had to.
He just had to.
So for her to be presented with the news that she was to hurry, Emilia's heart became a lump in her throat. For the first time since receiving him, the princess gave the care of Labros to a younger maid servant, and quickly hurried off. Barefooted with no care for how her hair looked liked a bird's nest, her bleary vision probably contributed to why she almost ran headlong into her sister in their pursuit to their only parent's room, and would've falen had they not quickly caught each other.
Words were unnecessary - the fear was palpable in the eyes of the pair of sisters. Her grip was tight on Persephone's whilst they hurried down the corridor, her chest tight, her breathing shallow. She wished. She hoped. She prayed. Unlike her sister, she was young. And Emilia so wished for her father's strong grip and guidance. Minas had been her only anchor after their mother had passed.
She couldn't imagine him gone.
Following at a more sedate pace behind her sister, Emilia's actions were almost fearful as she made her way across the space that made up her father's private quarters. She didn't know what to expect... but she was terrified that her life would change on its axis.
The night before had been pleasant - sharing a meal with her sister had always been, and with how busy her sister had been ever since the legislative had been passed in the Senate over two weeks ago, it had been a rare chance that Persephone had a time to sit down and enjoy a meal with her youngest sister. Not that Emilia faulted her, really. She felt lonely to a certain extent sure, but the puppy that Nicholai had given her for her birthday almost twenty over days ago helped greatly in elevating that, and the princess had been occupying herself with training. Labros himself was much better now in terms of relieving himself, so long as Emilia remembered to bring him out for his nightly and morning release.
In a way, Labros's schedule had also resulted in Emilia being forced to wake early - something the young one had never enjoyed. She had been determined to see to Labros herself however, and did not take up the offers of her maids to bring the puppy out. So as dawn broke, the rising sun could usually see Emilia on the lawns of the Royal Palati, sleepily wrapped in her gown as the black puppy sniffed around.
But even as she was, this was way too early. Or maybe it was late.
Whatever the hour was, Emilia had been abed when she had been roused, the servant stammering that she was to head to her father's quarters. It took a moment before the reason for the summons sunk in - she had been faintly disappointed when Minas could not join his two daughters for the evening meal, but Emilia knew he had not been well. As such she did her best to not disturb the patriarch, for her to, more rest meant he may be able to get better. And he had to.
He just had to.
So for her to be presented with the news that she was to hurry, Emilia's heart became a lump in her throat. For the first time since receiving him, the princess gave the care of Labros to a younger maid servant, and quickly hurried off. Barefooted with no care for how her hair looked liked a bird's nest, her bleary vision probably contributed to why she almost ran headlong into her sister in their pursuit to their only parent's room, and would've falen had they not quickly caught each other.
Words were unnecessary - the fear was palpable in the eyes of the pair of sisters. Her grip was tight on Persephone's whilst they hurried down the corridor, her chest tight, her breathing shallow. She wished. She hoped. She prayed. Unlike her sister, she was young. And Emilia so wished for her father's strong grip and guidance. Minas had been her only anchor after their mother had passed.
She couldn't imagine him gone.
Following at a more sedate pace behind her sister, Emilia's actions were almost fearful as she made her way across the space that made up her father's private quarters. She didn't know what to expect... but she was terrified that her life would change on its axis.
Where she found such strength, Persephone would never know. Not on the day she died herself would she be able to come to any form of cognitive reason or function that had her body, tone and voice behaving as it did so. If she thought about it - which she did not - she might have noticed or recognised that it was Emilia's presence that kept her own behaviour in check. For she was the guide to Emilia. She was mother and sister and role model and everything else rolled into one. She had never for one second believed that she had measured up to such a role, specifically in comparison to how Lucille was such a light to Persephone, but she had believed it to be her duty to try - ever since her mother's death. After her initial wave of sorrow when Lucille passed - a grief that had kept her within her own chambers for nearly two weeks - she had been reminded that life went on when Emilia had been left confused and disorientated that both her father and sister had disappeared the moment her mother had ceased to exist. Persephone had recovered and recognised that fact sooner than their father. Perhaps because she was female, perhaps because she and Emilia had been in similar positions of losing a parent, perhaps because Minas had, instead, lost the love of his life and mother of his children. It was a different kind of weight to bear. For whatever reason, Persephone had, one morning, gotten up, dressed herself in an appropriate gown, headpiece and jewellery, had snapped at her ladies maids to do her hair and had gone about her life as if nothing had changed. Well... nothing safe for the fact that she was now Lucille.
And Lucille she had tried to be ever since. Fulfilling the role that their wonderful mother had been to her, for Emilia. And now she continued to do so...
Upon entering the King's private bed chamber, it was almost immediate to Persephone that the man they both called father would be dying this night. There was something in the atmosphere, the air, the stature of the servants and physician who moved from his bedside to the wall so that the two girls could approach... even something in the very smell of the room. It stirred memories that Persephone defiantly pushed to the back of her mind and locked away where they were never to escape again.
Squaring her shoulders, Persephone's haste and panic suddenly seemed to disappear, her gown - for she had been still working when summoned instead of abed like her sister, was straightened along with her spine, and her head came up.
Leaving Emilia at the door so that she might progress forward when she felt ready, Persephone simply looked over her shoulder at the younger girl with a soft smile and then strode calmly and with ease to her father's beside.
There, she settled herself onto the mattress, the sheets dipping as she sat down beside her father. A man who looked the epitome of tired and forlorn as he lay, braced on cushions. His face had sallowed and thinned, his frame had hollowed out. The sheets and blankets over him to keep him warm were doing little as the hand that Persephone reached out to touch was tepid at best. The skin over his knuckles was loose.
Taking a very slow and calming breath, Persephone took her father's hand - for she knew he had no strength - and lifted it to her own face where she held his palm to her cheek. His thumb seemed to shift against her cheekbone beneath her eye in a manner that suggested he was using his full strength to stroke and squeeze at her features but the touch was little more than a brush.
Persephone smiled.
"Hello, father." She told the man with a calm and happy tone of voice. It was calm - not exuberant or joyous. But it was certainly happy and content in its sound. She rubbed a hand gently over his forearm, left bare by the night chiton - the sleeve of which had fallen to his elbow when she lifted his arm. She noted a smile pass wearily over Minas's lips.
She searched the man's eyes. He was still in there. But the light and brightness were gone.
"Is it time to rest, papa?" She asked him, breaking etiquette for the first time in years... Something caught in her throat but she swallowed it back, her voice remaining elegant and peaceful. There was no way she was letting her father see her distraught. He would go to the Underworld knowing that he left behind a daughter who would not falter or fail in his passing...
She was tempted to look back and check that Emilia was still there, that she would be able to come over and join them. Whether she smiled and was brave, whether she burst into tears, it wouldn't matter. So long as Persephone stayed strong, their father would know Emilia would be looked after, no matter the emotions she showed now. She could react and grieve as was natural to her...
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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Where she found such strength, Persephone would never know. Not on the day she died herself would she be able to come to any form of cognitive reason or function that had her body, tone and voice behaving as it did so. If she thought about it - which she did not - she might have noticed or recognised that it was Emilia's presence that kept her own behaviour in check. For she was the guide to Emilia. She was mother and sister and role model and everything else rolled into one. She had never for one second believed that she had measured up to such a role, specifically in comparison to how Lucille was such a light to Persephone, but she had believed it to be her duty to try - ever since her mother's death. After her initial wave of sorrow when Lucille passed - a grief that had kept her within her own chambers for nearly two weeks - she had been reminded that life went on when Emilia had been left confused and disorientated that both her father and sister had disappeared the moment her mother had ceased to exist. Persephone had recovered and recognised that fact sooner than their father. Perhaps because she was female, perhaps because she and Emilia had been in similar positions of losing a parent, perhaps because Minas had, instead, lost the love of his life and mother of his children. It was a different kind of weight to bear. For whatever reason, Persephone had, one morning, gotten up, dressed herself in an appropriate gown, headpiece and jewellery, had snapped at her ladies maids to do her hair and had gone about her life as if nothing had changed. Well... nothing safe for the fact that she was now Lucille.
And Lucille she had tried to be ever since. Fulfilling the role that their wonderful mother had been to her, for Emilia. And now she continued to do so...
Upon entering the King's private bed chamber, it was almost immediate to Persephone that the man they both called father would be dying this night. There was something in the atmosphere, the air, the stature of the servants and physician who moved from his bedside to the wall so that the two girls could approach... even something in the very smell of the room. It stirred memories that Persephone defiantly pushed to the back of her mind and locked away where they were never to escape again.
Squaring her shoulders, Persephone's haste and panic suddenly seemed to disappear, her gown - for she had been still working when summoned instead of abed like her sister, was straightened along with her spine, and her head came up.
Leaving Emilia at the door so that she might progress forward when she felt ready, Persephone simply looked over her shoulder at the younger girl with a soft smile and then strode calmly and with ease to her father's beside.
There, she settled herself onto the mattress, the sheets dipping as she sat down beside her father. A man who looked the epitome of tired and forlorn as he lay, braced on cushions. His face had sallowed and thinned, his frame had hollowed out. The sheets and blankets over him to keep him warm were doing little as the hand that Persephone reached out to touch was tepid at best. The skin over his knuckles was loose.
Taking a very slow and calming breath, Persephone took her father's hand - for she knew he had no strength - and lifted it to her own face where she held his palm to her cheek. His thumb seemed to shift against her cheekbone beneath her eye in a manner that suggested he was using his full strength to stroke and squeeze at her features but the touch was little more than a brush.
Persephone smiled.
"Hello, father." She told the man with a calm and happy tone of voice. It was calm - not exuberant or joyous. But it was certainly happy and content in its sound. She rubbed a hand gently over his forearm, left bare by the night chiton - the sleeve of which had fallen to his elbow when she lifted his arm. She noted a smile pass wearily over Minas's lips.
She searched the man's eyes. He was still in there. But the light and brightness were gone.
"Is it time to rest, papa?" She asked him, breaking etiquette for the first time in years... Something caught in her throat but she swallowed it back, her voice remaining elegant and peaceful. There was no way she was letting her father see her distraught. He would go to the Underworld knowing that he left behind a daughter who would not falter or fail in his passing...
She was tempted to look back and check that Emilia was still there, that she would be able to come over and join them. Whether she smiled and was brave, whether she burst into tears, it wouldn't matter. So long as Persephone stayed strong, their father would know Emilia would be looked after, no matter the emotions she showed now. She could react and grieve as was natural to her...
Where she found such strength, Persephone would never know. Not on the day she died herself would she be able to come to any form of cognitive reason or function that had her body, tone and voice behaving as it did so. If she thought about it - which she did not - she might have noticed or recognised that it was Emilia's presence that kept her own behaviour in check. For she was the guide to Emilia. She was mother and sister and role model and everything else rolled into one. She had never for one second believed that she had measured up to such a role, specifically in comparison to how Lucille was such a light to Persephone, but she had believed it to be her duty to try - ever since her mother's death. After her initial wave of sorrow when Lucille passed - a grief that had kept her within her own chambers for nearly two weeks - she had been reminded that life went on when Emilia had been left confused and disorientated that both her father and sister had disappeared the moment her mother had ceased to exist. Persephone had recovered and recognised that fact sooner than their father. Perhaps because she was female, perhaps because she and Emilia had been in similar positions of losing a parent, perhaps because Minas had, instead, lost the love of his life and mother of his children. It was a different kind of weight to bear. For whatever reason, Persephone had, one morning, gotten up, dressed herself in an appropriate gown, headpiece and jewellery, had snapped at her ladies maids to do her hair and had gone about her life as if nothing had changed. Well... nothing safe for the fact that she was now Lucille.
And Lucille she had tried to be ever since. Fulfilling the role that their wonderful mother had been to her, for Emilia. And now she continued to do so...
Upon entering the King's private bed chamber, it was almost immediate to Persephone that the man they both called father would be dying this night. There was something in the atmosphere, the air, the stature of the servants and physician who moved from his bedside to the wall so that the two girls could approach... even something in the very smell of the room. It stirred memories that Persephone defiantly pushed to the back of her mind and locked away where they were never to escape again.
Squaring her shoulders, Persephone's haste and panic suddenly seemed to disappear, her gown - for she had been still working when summoned instead of abed like her sister, was straightened along with her spine, and her head came up.
Leaving Emilia at the door so that she might progress forward when she felt ready, Persephone simply looked over her shoulder at the younger girl with a soft smile and then strode calmly and with ease to her father's beside.
There, she settled herself onto the mattress, the sheets dipping as she sat down beside her father. A man who looked the epitome of tired and forlorn as he lay, braced on cushions. His face had sallowed and thinned, his frame had hollowed out. The sheets and blankets over him to keep him warm were doing little as the hand that Persephone reached out to touch was tepid at best. The skin over his knuckles was loose.
Taking a very slow and calming breath, Persephone took her father's hand - for she knew he had no strength - and lifted it to her own face where she held his palm to her cheek. His thumb seemed to shift against her cheekbone beneath her eye in a manner that suggested he was using his full strength to stroke and squeeze at her features but the touch was little more than a brush.
Persephone smiled.
"Hello, father." She told the man with a calm and happy tone of voice. It was calm - not exuberant or joyous. But it was certainly happy and content in its sound. She rubbed a hand gently over his forearm, left bare by the night chiton - the sleeve of which had fallen to his elbow when she lifted his arm. She noted a smile pass wearily over Minas's lips.
She searched the man's eyes. He was still in there. But the light and brightness were gone.
"Is it time to rest, papa?" She asked him, breaking etiquette for the first time in years... Something caught in her throat but she swallowed it back, her voice remaining elegant and peaceful. There was no way she was letting her father see her distraught. He would go to the Underworld knowing that he left behind a daughter who would not falter or fail in his passing...
She was tempted to look back and check that Emilia was still there, that she would be able to come over and join them. Whether she smiled and was brave, whether she burst into tears, it wouldn't matter. So long as Persephone stayed strong, their father would know Emilia would be looked after, no matter the emotions she showed now. She could react and grieve as was natural to her...
She felt like she was watching a show or performance - some out of the body experience as she watched her sister progress forward through the door. Emilia knew she should follow. She should. She needed to see her father. But a part of her brain also knew that upon seeing her father's frail figure on the bed, the reality would be a right slap in her face, and she wouldn't be able to retain that hope she's held on to with a vise grip over the past few weeks.
The young brunette bit her lip, her hands gripping so tightly by her side, her knuckles would turn white. No one dared speak to her - no one's ever really seen Emilia like that before. She was the epitome of joy and love-of-life, rarely even without a smile, much less a frown on her face.
But these weren't exactly normal circumstances, were they.
Taking a deep, fortifying breath, it felt like an eternity before Emilia stepped forward, her bare feet making nary a sound as she progressed past the living area of her father's living quarters, until she came to the frame of the doorway where her father laid. There, she saw her sister settled on the mattress by their sire's side, her face a serene smile. As always. It was one of the many values in which Emilia admired in her elder sister - but one she doubted she'd ever be able to emulate. She's managed, with the help many governesses and Persephone herself tone it down over the years, but the princess had always wore her heart on her sleeve.
And then her gaze slipped to her father's, and her young heart ached. The image of her father, strong, hale and healthy had melted to the sallowed, thinned frame he now was on the bed. The lump in her throat grew as her sister spoke, but she knew that she at least, had to see her father.
Biting her lip, her breathe shuddered as she approached the bedside, stopping once she was a hair's breadth behind her sister's back. There, Emilia gave a watery smile, and rounded the bed to head to the other side, a chant to not cry as she took the other side of the mattress. Her slender fingers brushed her father's wizened one, and then curled her fingers around his weak, bony ones. "Papa." she started, and then paused. She didn't trust her voice.
But she was a princess.
"Papa," she repeated, her voice stronger and steadier now. Despite the glassy look in her hazel irises, she focused her gaze on her father's, and smiled, watery as it was. Unlike Persephone, with her father and in privacy, Emilia had never called him Father. "You miss Mama, don't you?"
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She felt like she was watching a show or performance - some out of the body experience as she watched her sister progress forward through the door. Emilia knew she should follow. She should. She needed to see her father. But a part of her brain also knew that upon seeing her father's frail figure on the bed, the reality would be a right slap in her face, and she wouldn't be able to retain that hope she's held on to with a vise grip over the past few weeks.
The young brunette bit her lip, her hands gripping so tightly by her side, her knuckles would turn white. No one dared speak to her - no one's ever really seen Emilia like that before. She was the epitome of joy and love-of-life, rarely even without a smile, much less a frown on her face.
But these weren't exactly normal circumstances, were they.
Taking a deep, fortifying breath, it felt like an eternity before Emilia stepped forward, her bare feet making nary a sound as she progressed past the living area of her father's living quarters, until she came to the frame of the doorway where her father laid. There, she saw her sister settled on the mattress by their sire's side, her face a serene smile. As always. It was one of the many values in which Emilia admired in her elder sister - but one she doubted she'd ever be able to emulate. She's managed, with the help many governesses and Persephone herself tone it down over the years, but the princess had always wore her heart on her sleeve.
And then her gaze slipped to her father's, and her young heart ached. The image of her father, strong, hale and healthy had melted to the sallowed, thinned frame he now was on the bed. The lump in her throat grew as her sister spoke, but she knew that she at least, had to see her father.
Biting her lip, her breathe shuddered as she approached the bedside, stopping once she was a hair's breadth behind her sister's back. There, Emilia gave a watery smile, and rounded the bed to head to the other side, a chant to not cry as she took the other side of the mattress. Her slender fingers brushed her father's wizened one, and then curled her fingers around his weak, bony ones. "Papa." she started, and then paused. She didn't trust her voice.
But she was a princess.
"Papa," she repeated, her voice stronger and steadier now. Despite the glassy look in her hazel irises, she focused her gaze on her father's, and smiled, watery as it was. Unlike Persephone, with her father and in privacy, Emilia had never called him Father. "You miss Mama, don't you?"
She felt like she was watching a show or performance - some out of the body experience as she watched her sister progress forward through the door. Emilia knew she should follow. She should. She needed to see her father. But a part of her brain also knew that upon seeing her father's frail figure on the bed, the reality would be a right slap in her face, and she wouldn't be able to retain that hope she's held on to with a vise grip over the past few weeks.
The young brunette bit her lip, her hands gripping so tightly by her side, her knuckles would turn white. No one dared speak to her - no one's ever really seen Emilia like that before. She was the epitome of joy and love-of-life, rarely even without a smile, much less a frown on her face.
But these weren't exactly normal circumstances, were they.
Taking a deep, fortifying breath, it felt like an eternity before Emilia stepped forward, her bare feet making nary a sound as she progressed past the living area of her father's living quarters, until she came to the frame of the doorway where her father laid. There, she saw her sister settled on the mattress by their sire's side, her face a serene smile. As always. It was one of the many values in which Emilia admired in her elder sister - but one she doubted she'd ever be able to emulate. She's managed, with the help many governesses and Persephone herself tone it down over the years, but the princess had always wore her heart on her sleeve.
And then her gaze slipped to her father's, and her young heart ached. The image of her father, strong, hale and healthy had melted to the sallowed, thinned frame he now was on the bed. The lump in her throat grew as her sister spoke, but she knew that she at least, had to see her father.
Biting her lip, her breathe shuddered as she approached the bedside, stopping once she was a hair's breadth behind her sister's back. There, Emilia gave a watery smile, and rounded the bed to head to the other side, a chant to not cry as she took the other side of the mattress. Her slender fingers brushed her father's wizened one, and then curled her fingers around his weak, bony ones. "Papa." she started, and then paused. She didn't trust her voice.
But she was a princess.
"Papa," she repeated, her voice stronger and steadier now. Despite the glassy look in her hazel irises, she focused her gaze on her father's, and smiled, watery as it was. Unlike Persephone, with her father and in privacy, Emilia had never called him Father. "You miss Mama, don't you?"
Persephone said nothing as her sister came to join them at the bed. She kept her gaze on her father's face, keeping eye contact to allow Emilia a few moments to gather her thoughts and assess the man before them without need to hide her feelings. By the time she was settling down on the other side of the mattress, her father broke contact with Persephone to turn his sleepy eyes towards his second daughter, the presence of whom caused another smile to pull at his lips. The smile seemed the only kind of expression or action he could make without difficulty.
When Emilia spoke, Persephone heard the emotion in her voice and had to turn her face away for a moment, turning her features closer into her father's hand and allowing them hidden from Emilia's sight. She swallowed quickly and then turned her face back, as if she had simply been seeking comfort for a moment in the hand of her father. Emilia spoke, asking if the man missed their mother and Persephone felt that lump in her throat again. She would suspect that there's no-one he missed more in this world.
The king opened his mouth to speak, had to close it again in order to work up the voice to speak.
"I do." He told his youngest daughter simply with a comforting smile. "But I shall see her soon..." He glanced between the two girls either side of him. "And when I do... I shall tell her of her daughters." He had to pause to breathe and Persephone felt her eyes moisten but she held on to them. "I shall tell her of the wonderful young girls we made together... And that we have left the world a better place for them being in it."
Persephone closed her eyes. She would not cry... She would not cry... She would not cry...
When she had control again, she opened them to find her father staring intently at Emilia, his hand now gripping hers with a vice like hold that couldn't have been stronger than a the softest of brushes.
"Never..." The king told Emilia, his words so firm it was clear he believed they would be his last to her. His tone held important and desperation; like he wanted her to remember the words always. "Never stop loving, Emilia." He told her with a frown that almost appeared a shadow of the telling off she would receive if she failed to follow his last instruction. "It is your strongest gift... There is good in everyone. There is happiness in every day... Never. Stop. Seeking it."
Persephone watched her sister absorbing the words, not wanting to disturb the moment between father and daughter...
After a moment of lingering gaze, the king then turned to Persephone. The hand beside her cheek seemed to tug at her, indicating that he wished her to come closer. By the time the tugging has stopped, Persephone had followed it until her ear was by the king's mouth, his voice quiet enough that even Emilia couldn't hear in the hushed room. The words he gave her, had her heart racing and Persephone's panic and shock apparent in the rise of her body temperature. Her features, however - somehow - remained calm.
When she pulled back, the king continued his words, these ones free for Emilia to hear also...
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Persephone said nothing as her sister came to join them at the bed. She kept her gaze on her father's face, keeping eye contact to allow Emilia a few moments to gather her thoughts and assess the man before them without need to hide her feelings. By the time she was settling down on the other side of the mattress, her father broke contact with Persephone to turn his sleepy eyes towards his second daughter, the presence of whom caused another smile to pull at his lips. The smile seemed the only kind of expression or action he could make without difficulty.
When Emilia spoke, Persephone heard the emotion in her voice and had to turn her face away for a moment, turning her features closer into her father's hand and allowing them hidden from Emilia's sight. She swallowed quickly and then turned her face back, as if she had simply been seeking comfort for a moment in the hand of her father. Emilia spoke, asking if the man missed their mother and Persephone felt that lump in her throat again. She would suspect that there's no-one he missed more in this world.
The king opened his mouth to speak, had to close it again in order to work up the voice to speak.
"I do." He told his youngest daughter simply with a comforting smile. "But I shall see her soon..." He glanced between the two girls either side of him. "And when I do... I shall tell her of her daughters." He had to pause to breathe and Persephone felt her eyes moisten but she held on to them. "I shall tell her of the wonderful young girls we made together... And that we have left the world a better place for them being in it."
Persephone closed her eyes. She would not cry... She would not cry... She would not cry...
When she had control again, she opened them to find her father staring intently at Emilia, his hand now gripping hers with a vice like hold that couldn't have been stronger than a the softest of brushes.
"Never..." The king told Emilia, his words so firm it was clear he believed they would be his last to her. His tone held important and desperation; like he wanted her to remember the words always. "Never stop loving, Emilia." He told her with a frown that almost appeared a shadow of the telling off she would receive if she failed to follow his last instruction. "It is your strongest gift... There is good in everyone. There is happiness in every day... Never. Stop. Seeking it."
Persephone watched her sister absorbing the words, not wanting to disturb the moment between father and daughter...
After a moment of lingering gaze, the king then turned to Persephone. The hand beside her cheek seemed to tug at her, indicating that he wished her to come closer. By the time the tugging has stopped, Persephone had followed it until her ear was by the king's mouth, his voice quiet enough that even Emilia couldn't hear in the hushed room. The words he gave her, had her heart racing and Persephone's panic and shock apparent in the rise of her body temperature. Her features, however - somehow - remained calm.
When she pulled back, the king continued his words, these ones free for Emilia to hear also...
Persephone said nothing as her sister came to join them at the bed. She kept her gaze on her father's face, keeping eye contact to allow Emilia a few moments to gather her thoughts and assess the man before them without need to hide her feelings. By the time she was settling down on the other side of the mattress, her father broke contact with Persephone to turn his sleepy eyes towards his second daughter, the presence of whom caused another smile to pull at his lips. The smile seemed the only kind of expression or action he could make without difficulty.
When Emilia spoke, Persephone heard the emotion in her voice and had to turn her face away for a moment, turning her features closer into her father's hand and allowing them hidden from Emilia's sight. She swallowed quickly and then turned her face back, as if she had simply been seeking comfort for a moment in the hand of her father. Emilia spoke, asking if the man missed their mother and Persephone felt that lump in her throat again. She would suspect that there's no-one he missed more in this world.
The king opened his mouth to speak, had to close it again in order to work up the voice to speak.
"I do." He told his youngest daughter simply with a comforting smile. "But I shall see her soon..." He glanced between the two girls either side of him. "And when I do... I shall tell her of her daughters." He had to pause to breathe and Persephone felt her eyes moisten but she held on to them. "I shall tell her of the wonderful young girls we made together... And that we have left the world a better place for them being in it."
Persephone closed her eyes. She would not cry... She would not cry... She would not cry...
When she had control again, she opened them to find her father staring intently at Emilia, his hand now gripping hers with a vice like hold that couldn't have been stronger than a the softest of brushes.
"Never..." The king told Emilia, his words so firm it was clear he believed they would be his last to her. His tone held important and desperation; like he wanted her to remember the words always. "Never stop loving, Emilia." He told her with a frown that almost appeared a shadow of the telling off she would receive if she failed to follow his last instruction. "It is your strongest gift... There is good in everyone. There is happiness in every day... Never. Stop. Seeking it."
Persephone watched her sister absorbing the words, not wanting to disturb the moment between father and daughter...
After a moment of lingering gaze, the king then turned to Persephone. The hand beside her cheek seemed to tug at her, indicating that he wished her to come closer. By the time the tugging has stopped, Persephone had followed it until her ear was by the king's mouth, his voice quiet enough that even Emilia couldn't hear in the hushed room. The words he gave her, had her heart racing and Persephone's panic and shock apparent in the rise of her body temperature. Her features, however - somehow - remained calm.
When she pulled back, the king continued his words, these ones free for Emilia to hear also...
She was young, but Emilia learnt through observation. More then any book or scroll or parchment or tutor could teach her, the youngest of the Xanthos princesses was an emulator at heart. And so it was in the dark period that perhaps for the first time, Emilia looked and carried herself much like her elder sister does.
Not that it meant she did not mourn. She did. Her heart broke, for her father was perhaps the only parent she's truly known her whole life. Lucille had passed on too early for Emilia to have any lasting memories, but with Minas, the young girl had much to remember him by, most of all with his warm touch and firm hold on her hands everytime he felt her confidence waver. Emilia wore her heart on her sleeves most of the time, but for today, she could not. Not for any great need of appearing composed or regal, but purely for the benefit of her father. She did not want him to pass on still worrying for the wellbeing of herself, and as such Emilia continuously told herself she could not break in front of him.
Nodding with a soft smile to confirm that indeed, Minas would see her soon, Emilia made a note to visit the temples of Hermes and Hades. If anything, anything at all could be done, she wanted to at least hope and pray that her father would be reunited with their mother, for Minas would want nothing else.
The girl accepted her father's hold gladly. She had reached across to make it easier for him to reach her,and while the grip was softer then she remembered, Emilia duly tried to memorize it, commit to memory everything from the lilt of his voice to the feel of his warm hands against hers, fully aware that this may be the last time she got such a chance. Biting her lip, Emilia nodded, her chuckle watery and held a faint tone of choked tears, a small misgiving she hoped her father missed. She always believed, had always believed in the good of everyone, and perhaps that was a reason that contributed to way Emilia always had a smile on her face.
But she didn't have one now.
"I hope... you know... how proud I am, of ... you." Minas's words were slow now, as if every syllable was a pain on his person, and his breaths came shallower. "Don't let... anyone in the world... tell you who you want to be."
Emilia's heart caught when Minas's eyes slid close, only to open a minute later, a minute that felt like an eternity. His eyes fluttered between his two girls on either side of him, and then for the first time since she entered, Emilia saw a peaceful smile spread across his lips, that light and brightness that had been gone in the beginning flickering back for the slightest moment. "Your Mama and myself will always be with you... in every breath of the wind, and... every... ray... of... sun."
With every word he had said, Emilia had felt the lump in her throat grow larger and larger, until the final syllable had his eyes fluttering shut again, and then... silence. The longest, most interminable silence Emilia had ever experienced. The strength in his grip, what little of it was there, was now gone. And as Emilia sat there, at a loss of what to do, it was quite, quite difficult to deny what had happened.
That the girls had just lost their father to the grip of Thanatos himself.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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She was young, but Emilia learnt through observation. More then any book or scroll or parchment or tutor could teach her, the youngest of the Xanthos princesses was an emulator at heart. And so it was in the dark period that perhaps for the first time, Emilia looked and carried herself much like her elder sister does.
Not that it meant she did not mourn. She did. Her heart broke, for her father was perhaps the only parent she's truly known her whole life. Lucille had passed on too early for Emilia to have any lasting memories, but with Minas, the young girl had much to remember him by, most of all with his warm touch and firm hold on her hands everytime he felt her confidence waver. Emilia wore her heart on her sleeves most of the time, but for today, she could not. Not for any great need of appearing composed or regal, but purely for the benefit of her father. She did not want him to pass on still worrying for the wellbeing of herself, and as such Emilia continuously told herself she could not break in front of him.
Nodding with a soft smile to confirm that indeed, Minas would see her soon, Emilia made a note to visit the temples of Hermes and Hades. If anything, anything at all could be done, she wanted to at least hope and pray that her father would be reunited with their mother, for Minas would want nothing else.
The girl accepted her father's hold gladly. She had reached across to make it easier for him to reach her,and while the grip was softer then she remembered, Emilia duly tried to memorize it, commit to memory everything from the lilt of his voice to the feel of his warm hands against hers, fully aware that this may be the last time she got such a chance. Biting her lip, Emilia nodded, her chuckle watery and held a faint tone of choked tears, a small misgiving she hoped her father missed. She always believed, had always believed in the good of everyone, and perhaps that was a reason that contributed to way Emilia always had a smile on her face.
But she didn't have one now.
"I hope... you know... how proud I am, of ... you." Minas's words were slow now, as if every syllable was a pain on his person, and his breaths came shallower. "Don't let... anyone in the world... tell you who you want to be."
Emilia's heart caught when Minas's eyes slid close, only to open a minute later, a minute that felt like an eternity. His eyes fluttered between his two girls on either side of him, and then for the first time since she entered, Emilia saw a peaceful smile spread across his lips, that light and brightness that had been gone in the beginning flickering back for the slightest moment. "Your Mama and myself will always be with you... in every breath of the wind, and... every... ray... of... sun."
With every word he had said, Emilia had felt the lump in her throat grow larger and larger, until the final syllable had his eyes fluttering shut again, and then... silence. The longest, most interminable silence Emilia had ever experienced. The strength in his grip, what little of it was there, was now gone. And as Emilia sat there, at a loss of what to do, it was quite, quite difficult to deny what had happened.
That the girls had just lost their father to the grip of Thanatos himself.
She was young, but Emilia learnt through observation. More then any book or scroll or parchment or tutor could teach her, the youngest of the Xanthos princesses was an emulator at heart. And so it was in the dark period that perhaps for the first time, Emilia looked and carried herself much like her elder sister does.
Not that it meant she did not mourn. She did. Her heart broke, for her father was perhaps the only parent she's truly known her whole life. Lucille had passed on too early for Emilia to have any lasting memories, but with Minas, the young girl had much to remember him by, most of all with his warm touch and firm hold on her hands everytime he felt her confidence waver. Emilia wore her heart on her sleeves most of the time, but for today, she could not. Not for any great need of appearing composed or regal, but purely for the benefit of her father. She did not want him to pass on still worrying for the wellbeing of herself, and as such Emilia continuously told herself she could not break in front of him.
Nodding with a soft smile to confirm that indeed, Minas would see her soon, Emilia made a note to visit the temples of Hermes and Hades. If anything, anything at all could be done, she wanted to at least hope and pray that her father would be reunited with their mother, for Minas would want nothing else.
The girl accepted her father's hold gladly. She had reached across to make it easier for him to reach her,and while the grip was softer then she remembered, Emilia duly tried to memorize it, commit to memory everything from the lilt of his voice to the feel of his warm hands against hers, fully aware that this may be the last time she got such a chance. Biting her lip, Emilia nodded, her chuckle watery and held a faint tone of choked tears, a small misgiving she hoped her father missed. She always believed, had always believed in the good of everyone, and perhaps that was a reason that contributed to way Emilia always had a smile on her face.
But she didn't have one now.
"I hope... you know... how proud I am, of ... you." Minas's words were slow now, as if every syllable was a pain on his person, and his breaths came shallower. "Don't let... anyone in the world... tell you who you want to be."
Emilia's heart caught when Minas's eyes slid close, only to open a minute later, a minute that felt like an eternity. His eyes fluttered between his two girls on either side of him, and then for the first time since she entered, Emilia saw a peaceful smile spread across his lips, that light and brightness that had been gone in the beginning flickering back for the slightest moment. "Your Mama and myself will always be with you... in every breath of the wind, and... every... ray... of... sun."
With every word he had said, Emilia had felt the lump in her throat grow larger and larger, until the final syllable had his eyes fluttering shut again, and then... silence. The longest, most interminable silence Emilia had ever experienced. The strength in his grip, what little of it was there, was now gone. And as Emilia sat there, at a loss of what to do, it was quite, quite difficult to deny what had happened.
That the girls had just lost their father to the grip of Thanatos himself.
Persephone's eyes were bright with moisture but she did not cry as her father spoke his final words - a few directly to herself and then the last to them both... She watched as a soft smile graced his face; one of contentment and... almost joy. Persephone wondered if he could see her. Their mother. In that moment. For she'd never seen his eyes glaze like that in love and adoration since Lucille had passed. Perhaps the spirit of the Queen had come to greet her husband into the Underworld.
It was a thought that was somehow so comforting, it dulled most of the pain and realisation that the man had, in those moments, as his eyes drifted shut and his chest stilled... had died.
The hand on her face was suddenly loose and the arm attached to it heavy. Carefully, Persephone took it and placed his hand over the king’s waist, reaching over to take the other from Emilia and place them - one over the other - on the king's middle. A posture of gentle repose.
She turned to look at the physicians who had lined up along the wall, all of whom were clearly looking, eager to check that the king had in fact passed to the afterlife.
Persephone stood and with less grace than she had ever shown before, moved around the bed to take a hold of her sister's upper arm and guide her from the mattress up to standing.
The two of them, at Persephone's guidance moved across the room and headed for the door where they paused, out of the way of the medics and simply awaited.
It took three men - as was procedure to confirm that the monarch was no longer living. And, as soon as this was the case, the head steward to the king - Ouros - turned towards the two princesses.
"The King is dead." He stated, his words formal and traditional. "Long live the Queen."
And then he formally bowed low to the new monarch of Athenia, followed in suit by the others in the room.
Persephone felt bile rise in her throat but she swallowed it down and did not react to their actions of servitude. Instead, she linked her arm with Emilia's, turned and practically frog-marched the both of them from the room, heading for Emilia's bedchamber. Initially, Emilia seemed to struggle until her elder sister murmured beneath her breath to the girl.
"They will prepare Papa for the funeral. We need not see it." And then the girl was still and followed her sister's lead as they returned to her bedroom, Persephone intent on having her sister in private quarters as soon as possible so that she might grieve as she needed...
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Persephone's eyes were bright with moisture but she did not cry as her father spoke his final words - a few directly to herself and then the last to them both... She watched as a soft smile graced his face; one of contentment and... almost joy. Persephone wondered if he could see her. Their mother. In that moment. For she'd never seen his eyes glaze like that in love and adoration since Lucille had passed. Perhaps the spirit of the Queen had come to greet her husband into the Underworld.
It was a thought that was somehow so comforting, it dulled most of the pain and realisation that the man had, in those moments, as his eyes drifted shut and his chest stilled... had died.
The hand on her face was suddenly loose and the arm attached to it heavy. Carefully, Persephone took it and placed his hand over the king’s waist, reaching over to take the other from Emilia and place them - one over the other - on the king's middle. A posture of gentle repose.
She turned to look at the physicians who had lined up along the wall, all of whom were clearly looking, eager to check that the king had in fact passed to the afterlife.
Persephone stood and with less grace than she had ever shown before, moved around the bed to take a hold of her sister's upper arm and guide her from the mattress up to standing.
The two of them, at Persephone's guidance moved across the room and headed for the door where they paused, out of the way of the medics and simply awaited.
It took three men - as was procedure to confirm that the monarch was no longer living. And, as soon as this was the case, the head steward to the king - Ouros - turned towards the two princesses.
"The King is dead." He stated, his words formal and traditional. "Long live the Queen."
And then he formally bowed low to the new monarch of Athenia, followed in suit by the others in the room.
Persephone felt bile rise in her throat but she swallowed it down and did not react to their actions of servitude. Instead, she linked her arm with Emilia's, turned and practically frog-marched the both of them from the room, heading for Emilia's bedchamber. Initially, Emilia seemed to struggle until her elder sister murmured beneath her breath to the girl.
"They will prepare Papa for the funeral. We need not see it." And then the girl was still and followed her sister's lead as they returned to her bedroom, Persephone intent on having her sister in private quarters as soon as possible so that she might grieve as she needed...
Persephone's eyes were bright with moisture but she did not cry as her father spoke his final words - a few directly to herself and then the last to them both... She watched as a soft smile graced his face; one of contentment and... almost joy. Persephone wondered if he could see her. Their mother. In that moment. For she'd never seen his eyes glaze like that in love and adoration since Lucille had passed. Perhaps the spirit of the Queen had come to greet her husband into the Underworld.
It was a thought that was somehow so comforting, it dulled most of the pain and realisation that the man had, in those moments, as his eyes drifted shut and his chest stilled... had died.
The hand on her face was suddenly loose and the arm attached to it heavy. Carefully, Persephone took it and placed his hand over the king’s waist, reaching over to take the other from Emilia and place them - one over the other - on the king's middle. A posture of gentle repose.
She turned to look at the physicians who had lined up along the wall, all of whom were clearly looking, eager to check that the king had in fact passed to the afterlife.
Persephone stood and with less grace than she had ever shown before, moved around the bed to take a hold of her sister's upper arm and guide her from the mattress up to standing.
The two of them, at Persephone's guidance moved across the room and headed for the door where they paused, out of the way of the medics and simply awaited.
It took three men - as was procedure to confirm that the monarch was no longer living. And, as soon as this was the case, the head steward to the king - Ouros - turned towards the two princesses.
"The King is dead." He stated, his words formal and traditional. "Long live the Queen."
And then he formally bowed low to the new monarch of Athenia, followed in suit by the others in the room.
Persephone felt bile rise in her throat but she swallowed it down and did not react to their actions of servitude. Instead, she linked her arm with Emilia's, turned and practically frog-marched the both of them from the room, heading for Emilia's bedchamber. Initially, Emilia seemed to struggle until her elder sister murmured beneath her breath to the girl.
"They will prepare Papa for the funeral. We need not see it." And then the girl was still and followed her sister's lead as they returned to her bedroom, Persephone intent on having her sister in private quarters as soon as possible so that she might grieve as she needed...
They had spent their whole life together, clinging to their little family. While others may argue that Persephone and Emilia should have connected more to their aunts and cousins, bank in on more family relationships where they sorely lacked... but the truth was, they couldn't. It was different as the daughters of a royal figure, more so when the political arena in Athenia was strife, as many had not even been satisfied with Minas on the throne, even after so many years. They couldn't afford being soft hearted to others.
As such, for many years, Emilia had little she could call a close confidante, other then her sister. She's had friends, close ones even, but none would understand her as Persephone did, the pressure and reality they lived under. For they shared the same pedestal, Persephone even more so then Emilia.
To even think that one from their little family unit would be taken away was inconceivable... yet what could Emilia do against Thanatos and his will?
She did not fight as Persephone took her father's hands. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine Minas was sleeping. Would imagination work at this point? Perhaps the Gods would have mercy on her, maybe dull that ache in her chest, a space in the shape of her father that no one else could fill. His hand had been warm yet when Persephone had taken it away from her, and placed it on the King's waist. She could imagine. But what good would imagination do, when it didn't last, neither did it come true anyway?
Not fighting as her sister drew her away, her steps mirrored the elder girl's, and as the physicians bowed to her sister with the formal tradition that she knew more then saw before, Emilia turned away. Her whole world was about to upend on its head, and she did not like it one bit. Under the cloak of the night, and perhaps for the first time in her whole life, Princess Emilia of Xanthos, daughter to the King and joy to all, did not wear a ready smile on her face. Her sister's words were numb on her ears, and like a puppet, she merely followed Persephone's light pressure on her back that guided her to her private quarters.
The moment she gently pushed the door opened, Emilia's ankles were immediately attacked, blunt teeth gnawing at her ankles and at the ends of the light himation she had worn in her haste to get to Minas's rooms. Absentmindedly, she dismissed the maids and instructed them to lock the doors behind them, and almost in the same state, picked up Labros in her arms to dangle a piece of cloth she had relegated as his toy, distracting the puppy.
Heading deeper into her room, it wasn't till Emilia stood right dead centre in her chambers, Labros gambolling around to the scrap of cloth he had managed to wrestle away from Emilia, did she finally ask in a hollow tone. "What are we to do now, sissy?"
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They had spent their whole life together, clinging to their little family. While others may argue that Persephone and Emilia should have connected more to their aunts and cousins, bank in on more family relationships where they sorely lacked... but the truth was, they couldn't. It was different as the daughters of a royal figure, more so when the political arena in Athenia was strife, as many had not even been satisfied with Minas on the throne, even after so many years. They couldn't afford being soft hearted to others.
As such, for many years, Emilia had little she could call a close confidante, other then her sister. She's had friends, close ones even, but none would understand her as Persephone did, the pressure and reality they lived under. For they shared the same pedestal, Persephone even more so then Emilia.
To even think that one from their little family unit would be taken away was inconceivable... yet what could Emilia do against Thanatos and his will?
She did not fight as Persephone took her father's hands. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine Minas was sleeping. Would imagination work at this point? Perhaps the Gods would have mercy on her, maybe dull that ache in her chest, a space in the shape of her father that no one else could fill. His hand had been warm yet when Persephone had taken it away from her, and placed it on the King's waist. She could imagine. But what good would imagination do, when it didn't last, neither did it come true anyway?
Not fighting as her sister drew her away, her steps mirrored the elder girl's, and as the physicians bowed to her sister with the formal tradition that she knew more then saw before, Emilia turned away. Her whole world was about to upend on its head, and she did not like it one bit. Under the cloak of the night, and perhaps for the first time in her whole life, Princess Emilia of Xanthos, daughter to the King and joy to all, did not wear a ready smile on her face. Her sister's words were numb on her ears, and like a puppet, she merely followed Persephone's light pressure on her back that guided her to her private quarters.
The moment she gently pushed the door opened, Emilia's ankles were immediately attacked, blunt teeth gnawing at her ankles and at the ends of the light himation she had worn in her haste to get to Minas's rooms. Absentmindedly, she dismissed the maids and instructed them to lock the doors behind them, and almost in the same state, picked up Labros in her arms to dangle a piece of cloth she had relegated as his toy, distracting the puppy.
Heading deeper into her room, it wasn't till Emilia stood right dead centre in her chambers, Labros gambolling around to the scrap of cloth he had managed to wrestle away from Emilia, did she finally ask in a hollow tone. "What are we to do now, sissy?"
They had spent their whole life together, clinging to their little family. While others may argue that Persephone and Emilia should have connected more to their aunts and cousins, bank in on more family relationships where they sorely lacked... but the truth was, they couldn't. It was different as the daughters of a royal figure, more so when the political arena in Athenia was strife, as many had not even been satisfied with Minas on the throne, even after so many years. They couldn't afford being soft hearted to others.
As such, for many years, Emilia had little she could call a close confidante, other then her sister. She's had friends, close ones even, but none would understand her as Persephone did, the pressure and reality they lived under. For they shared the same pedestal, Persephone even more so then Emilia.
To even think that one from their little family unit would be taken away was inconceivable... yet what could Emilia do against Thanatos and his will?
She did not fight as Persephone took her father's hands. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine Minas was sleeping. Would imagination work at this point? Perhaps the Gods would have mercy on her, maybe dull that ache in her chest, a space in the shape of her father that no one else could fill. His hand had been warm yet when Persephone had taken it away from her, and placed it on the King's waist. She could imagine. But what good would imagination do, when it didn't last, neither did it come true anyway?
Not fighting as her sister drew her away, her steps mirrored the elder girl's, and as the physicians bowed to her sister with the formal tradition that she knew more then saw before, Emilia turned away. Her whole world was about to upend on its head, and she did not like it one bit. Under the cloak of the night, and perhaps for the first time in her whole life, Princess Emilia of Xanthos, daughter to the King and joy to all, did not wear a ready smile on her face. Her sister's words were numb on her ears, and like a puppet, she merely followed Persephone's light pressure on her back that guided her to her private quarters.
The moment she gently pushed the door opened, Emilia's ankles were immediately attacked, blunt teeth gnawing at her ankles and at the ends of the light himation she had worn in her haste to get to Minas's rooms. Absentmindedly, she dismissed the maids and instructed them to lock the doors behind them, and almost in the same state, picked up Labros in her arms to dangle a piece of cloth she had relegated as his toy, distracting the puppy.
Heading deeper into her room, it wasn't till Emilia stood right dead centre in her chambers, Labros gambolling around to the scrap of cloth he had managed to wrestle away from Emilia, did she finally ask in a hollow tone. "What are we to do now, sissy?"
Persephone half guided, half followed Emilia down the corridors and into her bedroom chambers. She said nothing as her younger sister sent away her servants - for they were hers to command - and would have jolted in surprise at the attack of the young puppy if she had been reacting in a normal manner - instead of emotionally numb.
Persephone's feelings were no longer her own. Instead of being shocked or hurt or sorrowful at the loss of their father, her mind had simply shut everything off, determined to protect her from falling into the grieving hole she had found herself in after the death of her mother.
When her sister moved to the centre of the room, the two of them now entirely alone barring the guards outside her door who could not hear them anyway, Persephone took a slow and calming inhale when the young girl asked them what they were to do.
Stepping forward, Persephone moved to join Emilia, placed an arm around her shoulders and turned her inwards for an embrace. They were alone in the room, with no-one to see them, so the answer to her question was simple.
"Now, little sister..." She told the girl. "Now, we grieve."
And she held Emilia close, stroking at the girl's hair and encouraging her to take the moment to cry...
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Persephone half guided, half followed Emilia down the corridors and into her bedroom chambers. She said nothing as her younger sister sent away her servants - for they were hers to command - and would have jolted in surprise at the attack of the young puppy if she had been reacting in a normal manner - instead of emotionally numb.
Persephone's feelings were no longer her own. Instead of being shocked or hurt or sorrowful at the loss of their father, her mind had simply shut everything off, determined to protect her from falling into the grieving hole she had found herself in after the death of her mother.
When her sister moved to the centre of the room, the two of them now entirely alone barring the guards outside her door who could not hear them anyway, Persephone took a slow and calming inhale when the young girl asked them what they were to do.
Stepping forward, Persephone moved to join Emilia, placed an arm around her shoulders and turned her inwards for an embrace. They were alone in the room, with no-one to see them, so the answer to her question was simple.
"Now, little sister..." She told the girl. "Now, we grieve."
And she held Emilia close, stroking at the girl's hair and encouraging her to take the moment to cry...
Persephone half guided, half followed Emilia down the corridors and into her bedroom chambers. She said nothing as her younger sister sent away her servants - for they were hers to command - and would have jolted in surprise at the attack of the young puppy if she had been reacting in a normal manner - instead of emotionally numb.
Persephone's feelings were no longer her own. Instead of being shocked or hurt or sorrowful at the loss of their father, her mind had simply shut everything off, determined to protect her from falling into the grieving hole she had found herself in after the death of her mother.
When her sister moved to the centre of the room, the two of them now entirely alone barring the guards outside her door who could not hear them anyway, Persephone took a slow and calming inhale when the young girl asked them what they were to do.
Stepping forward, Persephone moved to join Emilia, placed an arm around her shoulders and turned her inwards for an embrace. They were alone in the room, with no-one to see them, so the answer to her question was simple.
"Now, little sister..." She told the girl. "Now, we grieve."
And she held Emilia close, stroking at the girl's hair and encouraging her to take the moment to cry...
Labros was, perhaps, the singularly unaffected living being in the whole palati at this point, for the black puppy gamboled around the feet of the two princesses as they entered, even as the maids left the room and the bolt of the door slid into a resolute shut. As if on auto-pilot, Emilia would play with her puppy by dragging the scrap of fabric back and forth, but yet her mind was far away.
She had asked her sister the question, but in truth Emilia knew what they were to do. Duty came. As did the kingdom. While she may not hold the same determination and ambition as Persephone did, Emilia did hold family values very strongly and closely to her heart, and their family prided themselves on being good rulers to the kingdom, even if some still questioned the legitimacy of Minas on the throne.
Even after his death.
But there was only so much Emilia could do. Unlike her sister, the brunette knew she was nowhere near as detailed, logical or level-headed, which made Persephone the perfect candidate to lead their kingdom. And what of her?
She moved stoically, as if a ragdoll just allowing Persephone to move. Like a child, she turned towards her sister's chest as Persephone moved her, and let Labros run as he would. Emilia took a deep breathe, Persephone's scent as calming to her as a mother's would.
Grieve? She would. But not loudly. To anyone else, it may only seem as if the sister's were sharing an embrace, but it was only to her sister, that she would feel the shudder in Emilia's shoulders, and the slow slide of a few tears out of her eyes, which would fall on the thin fabric of her sibling's clothes.
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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Labros was, perhaps, the singularly unaffected living being in the whole palati at this point, for the black puppy gamboled around the feet of the two princesses as they entered, even as the maids left the room and the bolt of the door slid into a resolute shut. As if on auto-pilot, Emilia would play with her puppy by dragging the scrap of fabric back and forth, but yet her mind was far away.
She had asked her sister the question, but in truth Emilia knew what they were to do. Duty came. As did the kingdom. While she may not hold the same determination and ambition as Persephone did, Emilia did hold family values very strongly and closely to her heart, and their family prided themselves on being good rulers to the kingdom, even if some still questioned the legitimacy of Minas on the throne.
Even after his death.
But there was only so much Emilia could do. Unlike her sister, the brunette knew she was nowhere near as detailed, logical or level-headed, which made Persephone the perfect candidate to lead their kingdom. And what of her?
She moved stoically, as if a ragdoll just allowing Persephone to move. Like a child, she turned towards her sister's chest as Persephone moved her, and let Labros run as he would. Emilia took a deep breathe, Persephone's scent as calming to her as a mother's would.
Grieve? She would. But not loudly. To anyone else, it may only seem as if the sister's were sharing an embrace, but it was only to her sister, that she would feel the shudder in Emilia's shoulders, and the slow slide of a few tears out of her eyes, which would fall on the thin fabric of her sibling's clothes.
Labros was, perhaps, the singularly unaffected living being in the whole palati at this point, for the black puppy gamboled around the feet of the two princesses as they entered, even as the maids left the room and the bolt of the door slid into a resolute shut. As if on auto-pilot, Emilia would play with her puppy by dragging the scrap of fabric back and forth, but yet her mind was far away.
She had asked her sister the question, but in truth Emilia knew what they were to do. Duty came. As did the kingdom. While she may not hold the same determination and ambition as Persephone did, Emilia did hold family values very strongly and closely to her heart, and their family prided themselves on being good rulers to the kingdom, even if some still questioned the legitimacy of Minas on the throne.
Even after his death.
But there was only so much Emilia could do. Unlike her sister, the brunette knew she was nowhere near as detailed, logical or level-headed, which made Persephone the perfect candidate to lead their kingdom. And what of her?
She moved stoically, as if a ragdoll just allowing Persephone to move. Like a child, she turned towards her sister's chest as Persephone moved her, and let Labros run as he would. Emilia took a deep breathe, Persephone's scent as calming to her as a mother's would.
Grieve? She would. But not loudly. To anyone else, it may only seem as if the sister's were sharing an embrace, but it was only to her sister, that she would feel the shudder in Emilia's shoulders, and the slow slide of a few tears out of her eyes, which would fall on the thin fabric of her sibling's clothes.
