If Achilleas could have come up with a convincing enough excuse to decline Stephanos’ invitation then he would have done. There had been enough outings proposed by the younger prince over the years to allow Achilleas to decide they were mostly terrible ideas. But with Krysto in tow and Emilios too, he had struggled to come up with a reason to say no, at least a reason that would not have him mocked mercilessly.

And so here they were, in Maliania, a province Achilleas had never turned much thought to, his life not sparing much time for an abundance of flowers and notions of romance. It was certainly a pretty place, their arrival earlier than afternoon convincing him of such, and he supposed it lent itself well to such an event as this. With that thought, his gaze lifted over the top of the head of his cousin to the fountain of the Goddess herself. A serene smile carved of white stone, she looked down upon them as if in benediction. The waters in the basin of the fountain had been filled with flowers, star-shaped white myrtle and roses, with Priestesses draping garlands of blooms around the boughs of the fig trees that edged the courtyard. And as he glanced around them, he wondered if really it was more of a risk to not partake in the frivolities, given who they were in honour of.

Such musings were interrupted by Stephanos, with Achilleas narrowing his gaze at the man’s jibing and setting a disdainful look at the hand that landed upon his shoulder. Just because he didn’t go lying with half the maids in Taengea didn’t mean couldn’t if he wanted to. The number of offers he received - some shattering any boundaries of propriety - suggested quote the opposite. But the elder of Irakles’ sons knew better than to risk running foul of some Baron by breaking his daughter’s heart or giving some tavern wench a story to tell and a bastard child. The same could hardly be said of Stephanos or Emilios, indeed Achilleas wouldn’t be surprised if he was an Uncle six times over already.

This festival though was different. For the Goddess made any such unions beyond reproach, so even the Mikaelidas Lord could not use reputation as an excuse to bow out. He knew it, Stephanos knew it, Krysto knew it, Emilios knew it and so he simply raised a brow at the Prince and remarked dryly. “Thank you for the words of wisdom, cousin.”

Reaching out to lift a couple of cups of wine from a passing serving girl because he felt like he might benefit from the mellowing properties, he thrust one towards Krysto before observing. “I suppose there’s always the Priestesses should you find yourself alone come midnight.” Only Achilleas wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to consider that option. Briseis’ mother was amongst those women, and that would be...distasteful. On hearing where the festival was to be held, his thoughts had strayed immediately to the girl, and it would have been a lie to say there wasn’t a little curiosity in seeing the place where she had grown, that she called home. And now he gazed at one of the priestesses who stood greeting worshippers at the entry to the temple and wondered if that was what Briseis’ life would have been if she had not come to Vasiliadon. He had not told her he would be visiting her home province, indeed the plans had rather been sprung upon him, but she had crossed his mind as they arrived that day and again now. Frowning a little at the realisation, he refocused on the others.

“So what? You just wander off and...you know,” he said, thinking it a rather base way to offer worship to the Goddess of Love.

Excitement and anxiety alike sat in Theodora’s stomach as she prepped for the festival, comparing the fabrics of two different chitons before settling on the one crafted from pale amber silk. The fabric was airy, almost sheer, the skirt fluttering in a draft from the window as her handmaid helped fasten the fibulae at her shoulders. Letting the soft material flow through her fingers, freckled cheeks crinkled in a smile. The warmth of the color brought out matching tones in her eyes, and when she caught a glimpse of herself in the looking glass, her smile only broadened. Said to blessed by Aphrodite, surely she would not have any trouble finding herself a partner for the evening.

Keeping her cosmetics light and her jewelry minimal, Theo slipped her feet into delicate golden sandals, standing patiently as her maid laced them over her legs. Thin chains of burnished gold belted her waist, gracefully drawing the look together in a way that was sure to draw notice. Idly plucking and adjusting the fabric, she swallowed the lump in her throat and bid her maid farewell. She couldn’t stall any longer.

Staring at the passing scenery as the carriage took her to Maliania, Theodora was caught up in her own daydreams. While she wasn’t fully convinced she would find love this night, she was eager, nonetheless. Aphrodite was her patron goddess, after all, and this festival was in her honor. And even if she didn’t find something lasting, she was eager to let her hair down, to keep to the shadows and worship the goddess in such a tantalizing way.

And if she did find someone to sweep her off her feet, all the better. She would consider any complications that arose from it later. Tonight was supposed to be fun, not worrying or stressful.

When the carriage stopped just out of view of the temple, Theo held a hand against the thundering of her heart. Be brave, she chastised herself as she stepped from the vehicle. You are not entering battle. No one will look askance at you for being here.

Careful steps carried her within view of the goddess’s statue, gazing up at her serene visage with a gentle smile. The wafting scent of flowers and oils filled the air, the soft sighs of lovers a wanton backdrop for the symphony of the evening. Keeping her eyes averted from those engaged in more intimate acts, she stopped in front of the idol with a soft sigh. Goddess, bless us all, was her silent prayer, stooping to pluck an anemone bloom and tuck it within her dark curls.

Turning, she spotted a small group of men hanging off to the side, a woman approaching from the shadows who looked vaguely familiar. Was that…? Looking down to hide a secretive smile behind a curtain of hair, she shook her head. It didn’t matter who it was. She would pretend not to notice her sister, and hopefully Olympia would do the same for her.

Suddenly shy again, Theodora hung back, her fingers idly trailing in the water of the fountain. How did one even approach? Was it meant for the man to do so? Or was she supposed to? Perhaps it was best if she just hung back and watched what the others did…

Fotios left the woman he had been with in a state of embarrassed frenzy as she worked to right her chiton. She would struggle, given that he had torn it fairly significantly on the right-hand side, making it almost impossible to re-fasten in a way that didn't reveal her skin from ankle to armpit. He wiped at his mouth a little, one finger in the corner of his lips, as he swallowed on the taste of her and left her to her own devices. He was here to honour the Goddess and to create a few mistakes in others that he might be able to manipulate later, not ensure that his advances were followed by the romantic chivalry of helping a woman redress herself.

The woman in question that he had already pleasured with his lips and fingers was married to a trader currently skimming from Leventi profits. Now, Fotios could call him on such things, start an ugly paperwork battle in which the trader would work to prove his innocence in an attempt to escape his stint in the fylaki. It would be a long and drawn out process in which Fotios would be painted as the reigning tyrant and harsh upon those he dealt with. More nervous merchants might be more cautious in working with him, tighten their purse strings and be less open in supplying him with business opportunities. It would have a knock-on effect that might take him half a year to clarify and after that...? He would have to find a new supplier, one who may not be any better than the first.

This way, with the man's wife under his thumb and in his pocket, the trader in question would immediately cease all claimings of Leventi gold. Else Fotios would simply implode the marriage that little miss not-so-innocent was so desperate to hold onto. Even when her spouse did not see to her needs. A simple instance of blackmail and Fotios was left with a supplier who not only would immediately become more loyal... but one that would never present a problem again. There was no statute of limitations upon infidelity after all... Not when it came to greed, possessive husbands anyway.

Meandering through the dark streets of the town, Fotios was careful to keep himself mostly hidden. He didn't need to be too careful on whether he was seen as he knew that Eirini was around here somewhere and he could use her and a reigniting of marital excitement as the reason for his presence but he preferred to be the one doing the watching that night.

Fotios wasn't a particular fan of voyeurism. It had its place and he occasionally slaked his lusts on it. But that was not the purpose for this night. This night was about information and knowing just where others of his class might hold vulnerabilities, weaknesses and mistakes. It didn't matter that it was bad form and considered unacceptable for affairs on the Night of Love to be at risk of public revelation. Fotios would do anything that he considered necessary. And he was loathe to pass up the opportunity for new information upon those he dealt with on a regular basis...

To Achilleas’ slight dismay, it seemed as if his summation was exactly correct, as first Stephanos then Emilios were quick to drift off to make the most of the night of promise. He took another sip of wine, lifted his cup in a toast to Krysto and with a shrug and a roll of his eyes moved off himself, thinking if nothing else he would take a good look around the temple. Maybe by that point, the wine would have helped him ease himself into this scenario with as much comfort and his cousin and brother seemed to have around it.

Only apparently the Goddess did not have such plans for him, for Achilleas had not gotten far beyond the courtyard itself when his gaze fell upon a familiar figure, and without him having permitted them to do so, his feet had carried him that little too close to not be acknowledged. Well then.

He wasn’t sure what he was even planning on saying as he came to a halt a pace or so away from where the dark-haired beauty leant over the fountain, and the “Lady The..” that he opened with was quickly bitten off to be replaced by a more generic “My Lady.” Was that the way of it? Dance around the fact that you knew full well who you were speaking with, and just set aside any of the usual reservations that might make any encounter unwise?

He was surprised, if he were honest, to see her here, for she could hardly be in wanting for suitors, a notion only supported by how fair she looked, limned in the gold of the gauzy chiton she wore and with the bloom of anemone tucked into her hair “You appear as if one of Aphrodite’s nymphs set here on the earth” the Lord observed, a little starstruck by her beauty and not quite smooth enough to cover up the fact.

Of all the people Aphrodite might have chosen to throw in his path this night it seemed a tease to make it Theodora of Leventi. For much as he had tried to deny it, the girl had managed to get under his skin somehow. As far back as that comedy of mistaken identity in Macendia all those years ago. Maybe because of it, he didn’t know. He just knew that he was always glad to see her, even if he then made a point of ignoring her because there was no point in playing with fire.

Unless.. Unless of course, it was a night where there could be no fire because there were no consequences and everything was ordained by the Goddess of Love herself. Achilleas swallowed and shifted his gaze from Theodora herself to focus instead on the petals that drifted lazily atop the water of the fountain. Gods he wanted…

If there was really to be no judgement, no expectations to come of such a night, then there was nothing he would like more than to indulge his craving for the young woman beside him, to set aside all the careful reasoning he had employed to explain ignoring her: that she was a Leventi, and one didn’t play lightly with them, that he couldn’t offer her anything because his future wasn’t in his hands, that he liked her and that unsettled him more than he cared to admit. Perhaps he could do this?

Achilleas turned back to Theodora, a new sort of resolve in his voice as he asked “Would you...I was going to take a look around the temple. Would you care to walk with me?”
The question was accompanied by a flash of teeth as he smiled and offered his arm, emboldened by the idea that he could actually pursue something he wanted, indeed had wanted for some time.

It was the arching of Achilleas’s eyebrow that he lived for. That single moment where the calm mask of his cousin broke and what bled through was the driest, most incredulous lifting of a brow that ever did grace the earth. It meant that he’d successfully needled Achilleas enough to be funny but not far enough that he was going to be punched. A precarious balance, at times, to be sure.

Achilleas turned and grabbed wine, handing one to Krysto, muttering low enough that Stephanos didn’t hear everything correctly but he did pick out the word ‘priestess’. Yes, Krysto would no doubt be relying on a priestess. After all, as passably good looking as Krysto was, he was surrounded by a prince and two lords. That dimmed his chances somewhat, even if his companions were covered in warts. It was their titles that usually attracted the most attention, from mothers, if not also from the daughters who were shoved their way. Achilleas might have a compunction of not taking advantage of such things, but Stephanos didn’t. If a girl wanted to take a tumble, it would be ungentlemanly to say no…

“So what? You just wander off and...you know,” Achilleas asked.

Stephanos’s eyes widened even as he frowned. “You know?” he repeated. “No, I don’t know what ‘You know’ is. You make love. That’s what.” His mouth twisted and his eyes raked his cousin up in down in something that was close to offense. “They’re women,” he said firmly. “Not chattel.”

As though the very word ‘woman’ summoned one, from out of the darkness, a form appeared in the deepest of shadows. She was unidentifiable where she stood but Stephanos had a fair idea of who this probably was. With a grin to Emilios, Achilleas, and Krysto, he turned towards Olympia. Reaching out his hand to feel his way to her, his fingertips brushed the warmth of her arm. Lovely.

“Of course,” he said, in response to her request for a word. “I think it would be best to have a moment in that field over there,” he pointed to the silver flower field where he knew klines to be, rather than saw them. His hand on Olympia’s lower back, he led her from the courtyard and into the gently swishing grasses. This close, he was able to make out the white outline of her features. His hand left the small of her back but slid over her hip as he slipped in front of her, walking backwards through the field.

“What can I do for you, my lady?,” There hadn’t been any formal conversation between them about each attending. It had been mentioned in passing; a comment here, an observation there about how close the festival might be. He’d mentioned traveling with his cousins and that they’d be in the courtyard...and then Lady Olympia happened to need a moment? It didn’t take a genius to guess why.

’ You know, I was fully on board with the whole Dyionsius thing. You guys have that idea right. But this….this is something else.’

Nikos laughed warmly at his friend’s remark. The younger lord had not taken long to fall in step with the way of a proper Dionysian party to honor the god of wine. In fact, Nikos had been impressed with how well Silanos had embraced the way the Taengeans did things. The way the people here broke barriers that the other Greek kingdoms viewed as base or lude. It was one of the things, Nik liked about having Sil around. Nikos turned back to what served as a mirror in the tavern room he’d procured for the night. ”This is in honor of the goddess of love herself. Aphrodite will look on this night with appeasement, so it is said.”

As Sil continued in his awed tone of the night’s festivities, Nikos adjusted the fit of his chiton for about the fifth time since he’d begun the ritual of getting ready for the night. It was a shorter one, the hem resting just below his knees. He didn’t wish to be tripping over his clothes in the dark after all. He wore a dark purple fabric, so dark it would nearly be black in the shadows of the night. His sandals already adorned his feet, and he wore less jewels than he would if he were headed to court – but there was still a fair amount of gold upon his body as to indicate the sort of station he held should one be close enough to observe his attire. Even on a night as tonight, station meant something to the women.

’ Seriously Nikos, its dark. You look fine, can we go already? I tell you, it’ll be the washerwomen and the fish wives left at this rate’ he grumbled impatiently. ‘Come on.’

Nikos adjusted the band on his head so that it sat more firmly in place. ”Oh, but appearance is everything, my friend. Have I taught you nothing this past year?” He finally turned away from his expression and smiled his signature charming warm grin. ”You get their attention with you appearance. The way you carry yourself. Then you words woo them into doing whatever you wish… even the wash women.” He started for the door, everything on his body now perfectly in place. Though if the night went as planned that wouldn’t be the case for long.

The common room downstairs seemed to already be emptied of patrons. A young barmaid was cleaning the tables. Nikos smiled at her, letting his gaze wander her body as he walked past. Silanos’ words brought a low chuckle bubbling up from his throat. His friend seemed to already be embracing the spirit of the night’s festivities. Nikos shook his head at the younger man, grabbed him by the arm and ushered him out the tavern door, leading the way to Aphrodite’s temple.

’ Have you come with a plan? Or going where the goddess takes you?’

Nikos pursed his lips as he pondered the question for a moment, watching Sil walk backwards in front him so they may talk face to face along the way. It was an act that Sil seemed to favor. Nik had of course laid hints to Arete over the past week or two that he would indeed be attending this night. Had indicated that an unmarked carriage and discreet attendants could be standing by for the merchant’s daughter if she so desired it. But, in the spirit of the anonymity of the night, the baron had not outright told his favored mistress that he would have liked to find her here and enjoy a night with her under the stars in honor of the goddess of love. ”I shall go where the goddess leads me, of course. Tonight, is about the heart’s desire; I will let my feet guide me. My heart – and my loins – ha never led me astray before.” He laughed at this, feeling the excitement in the air already.

The temple grounds were a buzz with people arriving, only to sneak off with a spotted intended. The priestesses were walking the grounds, and it appeared that all the priestesses of Aphrodite were in attendance. In the torchlit area of the temple lawn, Nikos made out the forms of Mikaelidas men across the way. He wondered who they were here to meet. His wandering eyes and thoughts were brought back to focus as Sil draped a wreath of flowers around his neck and handed him a goblet of wine. ”Perfect. Thank you.” He swirled the cup and took a long sip.

’ I wish you a successful hunt then, friend. May the Goddess be gracious and the girls be eager. If I see you before dawn something has gone terribly fucking wrong.’

”Terribly wrong, indeed, my friend,” he laughed, lifting his goblet in a salute. ”Happy hunting.” Nikos watched his dear friend saunter off into the shadows of the night, draining his wine and retrieving another. With his fresh goblet in hand, Nikos too slipped to the shadows. He wasn’t just here to bed the willing women. He was also here to watch, and learn. Always the opportunist, Nikos liked to be aware of the lives of the nobles outside of court when he could manage it. He noticed, Stephanos slipping off into the night with a smaller cloaked figure. He saw too, as Achilleas approach a woman at the fountain – though from this angle he was not quite certain of her identity, though he had his suspicions. Perhaps if he happened upon his rivals during the course of the night, he may could learn something more.

But Nikos’ thoughts soon turned to his own intended conquests. He turned away from the temple grounds and started off in search of a willing woman – letting his feet guide him along the path.