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She had been so determined when the order for her mother to move out of the household had come down. She had been steadfast and true, staying by her grieving mother and sister -- even though she had been offered a place in the house with Emilios. So now, the thought of going back on that seemed like a betrayal. She missed the life that had been ripped out from beneath her, and she wanted even just a sliver of it back.
She ran her hands nervously down the dark green chiton that she tended to favor. Her dark hair was loose and cascaded down past her shoulders, making her seem more girlish and innocent. Her mother would have probably congratulated her on using that to her advantage in making her plea with Emilios. It wasn’t her intention at all, though perhaps it should have been.
Would her mother begrudge her youngest for leaving her behind? Somehow, she doubted it -- even if her own conscience was screaming betrayal. Meena had always tried to climb socially, even at the cost of another woman’s family. Fear squeezed her young daughter’s chest. No. She thought, shaking the thought away. She would never go so far. It was not the same.
It was not as if she had come to such a decision lightly, no -- she had let the idea simmer within her for weeks and ultimately she had decided that she wanted to belong here. Somehow. Sara walked quietly along the polished marble halls of the palati, finding her way to the double doors of the study that Emilios’ was occupying for his work as interim king. She made a mental note to check on her brother, to see how he was truly doing with all the expectations placed on him while Achilleas was away waging war on Egypt.
Achilleas. She thought, feeling a cold flush of worry. Ares, please..please protect my brother. She pleaded silently, growing more concerned by the day. She had no special attachments to Ares, but she would send a thousand prayers and offerings to the war god if he would see Achilleas delivered home safely again.
Her sandaled feet were quiet as she drew to a stop in front of the study’s doors, sucking in a deep breath to steel her insides. Courage. Her request was not all that hard. She wanted to stay. That was all. She wanted to stay and be of use somehow. She raised her hand to the door, knocking lightly as she swallowed hard. She tried to clear her face of any worries or troubles, and tried to prepare herself if his answer would be no.
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Jul 14, 2020 23:00:11 GMT
Posted In little favors on Jul 14, 2020 23:00:11 GMT
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It felt like betrayal.
She had been so determined when the order for her mother to move out of the household had come down. She had been steadfast and true, staying by her grieving mother and sister -- even though she had been offered a place in the house with Emilios. So now, the thought of going back on that seemed like a betrayal. She missed the life that had been ripped out from beneath her, and she wanted even just a sliver of it back.
She ran her hands nervously down the dark green chiton that she tended to favor. Her dark hair was loose and cascaded down past her shoulders, making her seem more girlish and innocent. Her mother would have probably congratulated her on using that to her advantage in making her plea with Emilios. It wasn’t her intention at all, though perhaps it should have been.
Would her mother begrudge her youngest for leaving her behind? Somehow, she doubted it -- even if her own conscience was screaming betrayal. Meena had always tried to climb socially, even at the cost of another woman’s family. Fear squeezed her young daughter’s chest. No. She thought, shaking the thought away. She would never go so far. It was not the same.
It was not as if she had come to such a decision lightly, no -- she had let the idea simmer within her for weeks and ultimately she had decided that she wanted to belong here. Somehow. Sara walked quietly along the polished marble halls of the palati, finding her way to the double doors of the study that Emilios’ was occupying for his work as interim king. She made a mental note to check on her brother, to see how he was truly doing with all the expectations placed on him while Achilleas was away waging war on Egypt.
Achilleas. She thought, feeling a cold flush of worry. Ares, please..please protect my brother. She pleaded silently, growing more concerned by the day. She had no special attachments to Ares, but she would send a thousand prayers and offerings to the war god if he would see Achilleas delivered home safely again.
Her sandaled feet were quiet as she drew to a stop in front of the study’s doors, sucking in a deep breath to steel her insides. Courage. Her request was not all that hard. She wanted to stay. That was all. She wanted to stay and be of use somehow. She raised her hand to the door, knocking lightly as she swallowed hard. She tried to clear her face of any worries or troubles, and tried to prepare herself if his answer would be no.
It felt like betrayal.
She had been so determined when the order for her mother to move out of the household had come down. She had been steadfast and true, staying by her grieving mother and sister -- even though she had been offered a place in the house with Emilios. So now, the thought of going back on that seemed like a betrayal. She missed the life that had been ripped out from beneath her, and she wanted even just a sliver of it back.
She ran her hands nervously down the dark green chiton that she tended to favor. Her dark hair was loose and cascaded down past her shoulders, making her seem more girlish and innocent. Her mother would have probably congratulated her on using that to her advantage in making her plea with Emilios. It wasn’t her intention at all, though perhaps it should have been.
Would her mother begrudge her youngest for leaving her behind? Somehow, she doubted it -- even if her own conscience was screaming betrayal. Meena had always tried to climb socially, even at the cost of another woman’s family. Fear squeezed her young daughter’s chest. No. She thought, shaking the thought away. She would never go so far. It was not the same.
It was not as if she had come to such a decision lightly, no -- she had let the idea simmer within her for weeks and ultimately she had decided that she wanted to belong here. Somehow. Sara walked quietly along the polished marble halls of the palati, finding her way to the double doors of the study that Emilios’ was occupying for his work as interim king. She made a mental note to check on her brother, to see how he was truly doing with all the expectations placed on him while Achilleas was away waging war on Egypt.
Achilleas. She thought, feeling a cold flush of worry. Ares, please..please protect my brother. She pleaded silently, growing more concerned by the day. She had no special attachments to Ares, but she would send a thousand prayers and offerings to the war god if he would see Achilleas delivered home safely again.
Her sandaled feet were quiet as she drew to a stop in front of the study’s doors, sucking in a deep breath to steel her insides. Courage. Her request was not all that hard. She wanted to stay. That was all. She wanted to stay and be of use somehow. She raised her hand to the door, knocking lightly as she swallowed hard. She tried to clear her face of any worries or troubles, and tried to prepare herself if his answer would be no.
There was no way he could deny how nice it was having her under foot once again. He had forgotten what it was like to have so much laughter within these walls. His father had always insisted on decorum, always snubbed his nose at the thought of those who didn’t act as if they had a stick up their ass. So when he was gone, it was often that the children would let loose and enjoy themselves. The atmosphere in the house was far more appealing, and now it felt much like it should have been.
And he wasn’t sure how long it could stay that way.
He was staring at a note from Meena, the tone of it enough to piss him off. She wanted to know he thought he would be sending her daughter back any time soon, wondering why he so obviously favored Sara but not Tasia. Demanding that if he was going to house Sara, he should also find a place for Tasia within the city as well.
Hells no.
Emilios tossed the letter aside just as the knock on the door broke his silence. It was light and feminine, so it would only be either of the ladies currently in residence. And he knew the way Theo’s sounded, knew that this was a little more hesitant in its strength. He let out a chuckle, “I am not Father, Duckling. You don’t need to knock on my door, you can just come in.” He called out to her, glad for both the distraction from his frustration and the chance to focus on the letter in hand.
Meena was right about one thing-- there was no way that he could keep Sara in the city without further purpose. Perhaps he could find a way to keep her under his wing without directly being in charge of her. It made him wonder if she wanted to stay in the first place. Maybe she grew homesick, or maybe she missed her mother. Maybe she did not wish to stay, but if she did, it would have to be more than just a guest.
Especially if he didn’t want to give Meena a reason to come back to claim her.
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There was no way he could deny how nice it was having her under foot once again. He had forgotten what it was like to have so much laughter within these walls. His father had always insisted on decorum, always snubbed his nose at the thought of those who didn’t act as if they had a stick up their ass. So when he was gone, it was often that the children would let loose and enjoy themselves. The atmosphere in the house was far more appealing, and now it felt much like it should have been.
And he wasn’t sure how long it could stay that way.
He was staring at a note from Meena, the tone of it enough to piss him off. She wanted to know he thought he would be sending her daughter back any time soon, wondering why he so obviously favored Sara but not Tasia. Demanding that if he was going to house Sara, he should also find a place for Tasia within the city as well.
Hells no.
Emilios tossed the letter aside just as the knock on the door broke his silence. It was light and feminine, so it would only be either of the ladies currently in residence. And he knew the way Theo’s sounded, knew that this was a little more hesitant in its strength. He let out a chuckle, “I am not Father, Duckling. You don’t need to knock on my door, you can just come in.” He called out to her, glad for both the distraction from his frustration and the chance to focus on the letter in hand.
Meena was right about one thing-- there was no way that he could keep Sara in the city without further purpose. Perhaps he could find a way to keep her under his wing without directly being in charge of her. It made him wonder if she wanted to stay in the first place. Maybe she grew homesick, or maybe she missed her mother. Maybe she did not wish to stay, but if she did, it would have to be more than just a guest.
Especially if he didn’t want to give Meena a reason to come back to claim her.
There was no way he could deny how nice it was having her under foot once again. He had forgotten what it was like to have so much laughter within these walls. His father had always insisted on decorum, always snubbed his nose at the thought of those who didn’t act as if they had a stick up their ass. So when he was gone, it was often that the children would let loose and enjoy themselves. The atmosphere in the house was far more appealing, and now it felt much like it should have been.
And he wasn’t sure how long it could stay that way.
He was staring at a note from Meena, the tone of it enough to piss him off. She wanted to know he thought he would be sending her daughter back any time soon, wondering why he so obviously favored Sara but not Tasia. Demanding that if he was going to house Sara, he should also find a place for Tasia within the city as well.
Hells no.
Emilios tossed the letter aside just as the knock on the door broke his silence. It was light and feminine, so it would only be either of the ladies currently in residence. And he knew the way Theo’s sounded, knew that this was a little more hesitant in its strength. He let out a chuckle, “I am not Father, Duckling. You don’t need to knock on my door, you can just come in.” He called out to her, glad for both the distraction from his frustration and the chance to focus on the letter in hand.
Meena was right about one thing-- there was no way that he could keep Sara in the city without further purpose. Perhaps he could find a way to keep her under his wing without directly being in charge of her. It made him wonder if she wanted to stay in the first place. Maybe she grew homesick, or maybe she missed her mother. Maybe she did not wish to stay, but if she did, it would have to be more than just a guest.
Especially if he didn’t want to give Meena a reason to come back to claim her.
His response to her knocking made her smile, a true smile, and that gave her the confidence that she needed to turn the knobs and timidly peek in. Emilios was her friend, her brother. She had always felt closer to him than any of the rest of her siblings, and knew that in her heart of hearts that he would help her if it was within his power. She smiled, her dark hair cascading over one shoulder as she leaned around the door to gauge his mood.
After deciding that things looked safe enough, she entered the study and closed the door behind her with a quiet click. ”Old habits.” She said, forcing the cheer into her voice. He had been the one to bring up father -- and she felt the familiar ache of his absence. Irakles had never been a particularly kind or loving father, but he had loved them in his own way. She missed the quiet gruffness, his grumbling as she asked permission to borrow books from his study or knowing that he’d done something quietly to make her life easier.
She let the pain pass through her, choosing not to dwell on what her father’s death had meant for her.
She tucked her hands behind her back, perhaps why she had earned the nickname ‘Duckling’, and sauntered forward towards Emilios. Her eyebrows were raised, the tilt of her chin making her look curious. ”Everything alright?” She asked, stopping just before she had reached him. Her gaze dropped to the array of letters and books. ”Have I come at a bad time? Are you terribly busy?”
She honestly was not sure how Emilios was handling so much responsibility, as the ruler of their country while Achilleas was at war. He had always seemed carefree, willing to follow the winds wherever they were blowing. How was he doing now that he was tied down by the demands of being a king? Sara watched him, as if trying to see beyond him and read the very thoughts in his mind. Was he worried about something? Could she do anything about it?
Her smile was warm, because it was a lot easier to worry about other people than to worry about herself. She found that nurturing and caring for others was second nature. ”You are taking care of yourself?” She asked, now raising her eyebrows in concern as she considered it. ”Our lives have been tossed upside down.” Her smile tightened a little. ”I just wanted to make sure that you were okay.”And ask if you could keep me here after all. But she didn’t say that last part. Not yet, now was not the time.
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His response to her knocking made her smile, a true smile, and that gave her the confidence that she needed to turn the knobs and timidly peek in. Emilios was her friend, her brother. She had always felt closer to him than any of the rest of her siblings, and knew that in her heart of hearts that he would help her if it was within his power. She smiled, her dark hair cascading over one shoulder as she leaned around the door to gauge his mood.
After deciding that things looked safe enough, she entered the study and closed the door behind her with a quiet click. ”Old habits.” She said, forcing the cheer into her voice. He had been the one to bring up father -- and she felt the familiar ache of his absence. Irakles had never been a particularly kind or loving father, but he had loved them in his own way. She missed the quiet gruffness, his grumbling as she asked permission to borrow books from his study or knowing that he’d done something quietly to make her life easier.
She let the pain pass through her, choosing not to dwell on what her father’s death had meant for her.
She tucked her hands behind her back, perhaps why she had earned the nickname ‘Duckling’, and sauntered forward towards Emilios. Her eyebrows were raised, the tilt of her chin making her look curious. ”Everything alright?” She asked, stopping just before she had reached him. Her gaze dropped to the array of letters and books. ”Have I come at a bad time? Are you terribly busy?”
She honestly was not sure how Emilios was handling so much responsibility, as the ruler of their country while Achilleas was at war. He had always seemed carefree, willing to follow the winds wherever they were blowing. How was he doing now that he was tied down by the demands of being a king? Sara watched him, as if trying to see beyond him and read the very thoughts in his mind. Was he worried about something? Could she do anything about it?
Her smile was warm, because it was a lot easier to worry about other people than to worry about herself. She found that nurturing and caring for others was second nature. ”You are taking care of yourself?” She asked, now raising her eyebrows in concern as she considered it. ”Our lives have been tossed upside down.” Her smile tightened a little. ”I just wanted to make sure that you were okay.”And ask if you could keep me here after all. But she didn’t say that last part. Not yet, now was not the time.
His response to her knocking made her smile, a true smile, and that gave her the confidence that she needed to turn the knobs and timidly peek in. Emilios was her friend, her brother. She had always felt closer to him than any of the rest of her siblings, and knew that in her heart of hearts that he would help her if it was within his power. She smiled, her dark hair cascading over one shoulder as she leaned around the door to gauge his mood.
After deciding that things looked safe enough, she entered the study and closed the door behind her with a quiet click. ”Old habits.” She said, forcing the cheer into her voice. He had been the one to bring up father -- and she felt the familiar ache of his absence. Irakles had never been a particularly kind or loving father, but he had loved them in his own way. She missed the quiet gruffness, his grumbling as she asked permission to borrow books from his study or knowing that he’d done something quietly to make her life easier.
She let the pain pass through her, choosing not to dwell on what her father’s death had meant for her.
She tucked her hands behind her back, perhaps why she had earned the nickname ‘Duckling’, and sauntered forward towards Emilios. Her eyebrows were raised, the tilt of her chin making her look curious. ”Everything alright?” She asked, stopping just before she had reached him. Her gaze dropped to the array of letters and books. ”Have I come at a bad time? Are you terribly busy?”
She honestly was not sure how Emilios was handling so much responsibility, as the ruler of their country while Achilleas was at war. He had always seemed carefree, willing to follow the winds wherever they were blowing. How was he doing now that he was tied down by the demands of being a king? Sara watched him, as if trying to see beyond him and read the very thoughts in his mind. Was he worried about something? Could she do anything about it?
Her smile was warm, because it was a lot easier to worry about other people than to worry about herself. She found that nurturing and caring for others was second nature. ”You are taking care of yourself?” She asked, now raising her eyebrows in concern as she considered it. ”Our lives have been tossed upside down.” Her smile tightened a little. ”I just wanted to make sure that you were okay.”And ask if you could keep me here after all. But she didn’t say that last part. Not yet, now was not the time.
He hadn’t thought about the moment, hadn’t given it much thought as to what it may have meant to her. Emilios knew his own relationship with his father and could not help but feel no underlying pain at the loss. The man seemed to have very little affection for his family. Instead, his love was more for the power that he was after. Could it even be argued that he had a great love for his country? The youngest son seriously doubted it.
A man who loved his country would not have done what Emilios was concerned that he’d done. Had he killed his brother and nephew? Had he focused the energy on blaming Stephanos for a crime he did not commit? How could anyone who loved his country do something that would decisively draw lines of discontentment?
A man who only loved himself was not a great loss.
But for his sister, who was protected from the same insight that Emilios had, it may have been a different moment. It was quite possible that their father was a different man when alone with her. Perhaps he was affectionate with his daughters. He did seem to care more about the women in his life, so perhaps as soon as the doors shut, he was playful with the youngest in a way he’d never been with his sons. Regardless, he gave her a moment to take in the change that happened within the room. He had left very little behind of what had been his father’s study. He had made it his own.
Art was displayed on the walls, a few of his own quiet pieces up as well. Books dotted the shelves, while papers and notes were neatly stacked on his table. His father’s chairs have never been inviting, so Emilios had found plush chairs that someone would want to stay a while in. He gestured to one of the deep burgundy seats in front of his desk, inviting her to join him “There is never a good time when the country is at war, Duckling. But now is as good of a time as any. And I will always stop whatever I am doing for you.” He set the letter in hand face up on the table, close enough that she could recognize the handwriting if she looked close enough.
Meena wanted her home, but for the reasons that should matter. No, it was simply because Emilios wanted her there.
“Me? You are worried about me? How sweet of you.” He said with a smile, coming around to instead take the chair next to her. “Having no experience with responsibility, I’d like to think I am faking it spectacularly.” He laughed, resting comfortably in the chair. “I should be asking you the same thing, dear. How are you managing? Do you need anything?”
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Sept 2, 2020 21:00:05 GMT
Posted In little favors on Sept 2, 2020 21:00:05 GMT
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He hadn’t thought about the moment, hadn’t given it much thought as to what it may have meant to her. Emilios knew his own relationship with his father and could not help but feel no underlying pain at the loss. The man seemed to have very little affection for his family. Instead, his love was more for the power that he was after. Could it even be argued that he had a great love for his country? The youngest son seriously doubted it.
A man who loved his country would not have done what Emilios was concerned that he’d done. Had he killed his brother and nephew? Had he focused the energy on blaming Stephanos for a crime he did not commit? How could anyone who loved his country do something that would decisively draw lines of discontentment?
A man who only loved himself was not a great loss.
But for his sister, who was protected from the same insight that Emilios had, it may have been a different moment. It was quite possible that their father was a different man when alone with her. Perhaps he was affectionate with his daughters. He did seem to care more about the women in his life, so perhaps as soon as the doors shut, he was playful with the youngest in a way he’d never been with his sons. Regardless, he gave her a moment to take in the change that happened within the room. He had left very little behind of what had been his father’s study. He had made it his own.
Art was displayed on the walls, a few of his own quiet pieces up as well. Books dotted the shelves, while papers and notes were neatly stacked on his table. His father’s chairs have never been inviting, so Emilios had found plush chairs that someone would want to stay a while in. He gestured to one of the deep burgundy seats in front of his desk, inviting her to join him “There is never a good time when the country is at war, Duckling. But now is as good of a time as any. And I will always stop whatever I am doing for you.” He set the letter in hand face up on the table, close enough that she could recognize the handwriting if she looked close enough.
Meena wanted her home, but for the reasons that should matter. No, it was simply because Emilios wanted her there.
“Me? You are worried about me? How sweet of you.” He said with a smile, coming around to instead take the chair next to her. “Having no experience with responsibility, I’d like to think I am faking it spectacularly.” He laughed, resting comfortably in the chair. “I should be asking you the same thing, dear. How are you managing? Do you need anything?”
He hadn’t thought about the moment, hadn’t given it much thought as to what it may have meant to her. Emilios knew his own relationship with his father and could not help but feel no underlying pain at the loss. The man seemed to have very little affection for his family. Instead, his love was more for the power that he was after. Could it even be argued that he had a great love for his country? The youngest son seriously doubted it.
A man who loved his country would not have done what Emilios was concerned that he’d done. Had he killed his brother and nephew? Had he focused the energy on blaming Stephanos for a crime he did not commit? How could anyone who loved his country do something that would decisively draw lines of discontentment?
A man who only loved himself was not a great loss.
But for his sister, who was protected from the same insight that Emilios had, it may have been a different moment. It was quite possible that their father was a different man when alone with her. Perhaps he was affectionate with his daughters. He did seem to care more about the women in his life, so perhaps as soon as the doors shut, he was playful with the youngest in a way he’d never been with his sons. Regardless, he gave her a moment to take in the change that happened within the room. He had left very little behind of what had been his father’s study. He had made it his own.
Art was displayed on the walls, a few of his own quiet pieces up as well. Books dotted the shelves, while papers and notes were neatly stacked on his table. His father’s chairs have never been inviting, so Emilios had found plush chairs that someone would want to stay a while in. He gestured to one of the deep burgundy seats in front of his desk, inviting her to join him “There is never a good time when the country is at war, Duckling. But now is as good of a time as any. And I will always stop whatever I am doing for you.” He set the letter in hand face up on the table, close enough that she could recognize the handwriting if she looked close enough.
Meena wanted her home, but for the reasons that should matter. No, it was simply because Emilios wanted her there.
“Me? You are worried about me? How sweet of you.” He said with a smile, coming around to instead take the chair next to her. “Having no experience with responsibility, I’d like to think I am faking it spectacularly.” He laughed, resting comfortably in the chair. “I should be asking you the same thing, dear. How are you managing? Do you need anything?”
Her attention dropped to the letter that had been in his hand when she had come in, now set aside in favor of sharing a conversation. She felt a flare of dread starting to pool in her stomach as she recognized the handwriting, even from here. Mother. Sara had barely heard from the woman since she had accepted Emilios’ offer to visit, but she had a feeling that she knew what that letter contained.
She accepted the seat on one of the plush seats that he had indicated, finding that her legs were no longer quite so capable of holding her weight. She found herself sitting on the edge, not settled back, now wondering if he was about to tell her that she should start packing up her things to depart. The dread turned into painful ice, and she picked nervously at her chiton. It was a dead giveaway, something that she had always done and it was impossible that he would not notice. Her appearance was always the first thing that she tried to fix when she was nervous.
”You’re doing wonderful.” She agreed, unable to help the small chuff of her laughter. ”You’re the best fake king that I’ve ever seen.” If she hadn’t known him all her life, she might have thought that he was born to it -- well more so than he already had been. He was charming and suave, but also had genuine empathy and care. He would make a good true king, if it came down to it but she was not sure it was something he’d love. If Achilleas was a tree, rooted and firm, then Emilios was the wind, delightfully carefree.
He asked about her then, a polite courtesy that she smiled at. ”I’m doing well.” She said. ”Everyone has been very kind, especially Theodo-- I mean, Queen Theodora.” The Queen had been particularly welcoming of her presence, and her acceptance had been more than Sara could have hoped for. ”Did you know that Jaidee is in the stables?” She said then, her mind turned to the mare that she thought had been sold away. ”The Queen and I went riding together, and she was just...there. I couldn’t believe my eyes.” Her fingers picked at the skin of her opposite hand, shaking her head even as she smiled down in her lap. She had a sneaking suspicion of how the mare had come to be there.
She cleared her throat knowing that she should probably get to the point of why she had come calling, bolstering her courage and reaching up to brush her hair from her shoulders. She looked young and old at the same time, the corners of her eyes pinched with worry. ”That letter…” She said, not looking away. ”The one you were reading when I came in...that’s my mother’s handwriting isn’t it?”
She spared it a glance then, just a short distance away, before turning her gaze back to him. ”What did she say?” Sara asked, blue gaze dark with an attempt to guard herself against what he might say. Perhaps it was best to know what was expected before she tried to plead her case.
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Sept 12, 2020 16:23:27 GMT
Posted In little favors on Sept 12, 2020 16:23:27 GMT
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Her attention dropped to the letter that had been in his hand when she had come in, now set aside in favor of sharing a conversation. She felt a flare of dread starting to pool in her stomach as she recognized the handwriting, even from here. Mother. Sara had barely heard from the woman since she had accepted Emilios’ offer to visit, but she had a feeling that she knew what that letter contained.
She accepted the seat on one of the plush seats that he had indicated, finding that her legs were no longer quite so capable of holding her weight. She found herself sitting on the edge, not settled back, now wondering if he was about to tell her that she should start packing up her things to depart. The dread turned into painful ice, and she picked nervously at her chiton. It was a dead giveaway, something that she had always done and it was impossible that he would not notice. Her appearance was always the first thing that she tried to fix when she was nervous.
”You’re doing wonderful.” She agreed, unable to help the small chuff of her laughter. ”You’re the best fake king that I’ve ever seen.” If she hadn’t known him all her life, she might have thought that he was born to it -- well more so than he already had been. He was charming and suave, but also had genuine empathy and care. He would make a good true king, if it came down to it but she was not sure it was something he’d love. If Achilleas was a tree, rooted and firm, then Emilios was the wind, delightfully carefree.
He asked about her then, a polite courtesy that she smiled at. ”I’m doing well.” She said. ”Everyone has been very kind, especially Theodo-- I mean, Queen Theodora.” The Queen had been particularly welcoming of her presence, and her acceptance had been more than Sara could have hoped for. ”Did you know that Jaidee is in the stables?” She said then, her mind turned to the mare that she thought had been sold away. ”The Queen and I went riding together, and she was just...there. I couldn’t believe my eyes.” Her fingers picked at the skin of her opposite hand, shaking her head even as she smiled down in her lap. She had a sneaking suspicion of how the mare had come to be there.
She cleared her throat knowing that she should probably get to the point of why she had come calling, bolstering her courage and reaching up to brush her hair from her shoulders. She looked young and old at the same time, the corners of her eyes pinched with worry. ”That letter…” She said, not looking away. ”The one you were reading when I came in...that’s my mother’s handwriting isn’t it?”
She spared it a glance then, just a short distance away, before turning her gaze back to him. ”What did she say?” Sara asked, blue gaze dark with an attempt to guard herself against what he might say. Perhaps it was best to know what was expected before she tried to plead her case.
Her attention dropped to the letter that had been in his hand when she had come in, now set aside in favor of sharing a conversation. She felt a flare of dread starting to pool in her stomach as she recognized the handwriting, even from here. Mother. Sara had barely heard from the woman since she had accepted Emilios’ offer to visit, but she had a feeling that she knew what that letter contained.
She accepted the seat on one of the plush seats that he had indicated, finding that her legs were no longer quite so capable of holding her weight. She found herself sitting on the edge, not settled back, now wondering if he was about to tell her that she should start packing up her things to depart. The dread turned into painful ice, and she picked nervously at her chiton. It was a dead giveaway, something that she had always done and it was impossible that he would not notice. Her appearance was always the first thing that she tried to fix when she was nervous.
”You’re doing wonderful.” She agreed, unable to help the small chuff of her laughter. ”You’re the best fake king that I’ve ever seen.” If she hadn’t known him all her life, she might have thought that he was born to it -- well more so than he already had been. He was charming and suave, but also had genuine empathy and care. He would make a good true king, if it came down to it but she was not sure it was something he’d love. If Achilleas was a tree, rooted and firm, then Emilios was the wind, delightfully carefree.
He asked about her then, a polite courtesy that she smiled at. ”I’m doing well.” She said. ”Everyone has been very kind, especially Theodo-- I mean, Queen Theodora.” The Queen had been particularly welcoming of her presence, and her acceptance had been more than Sara could have hoped for. ”Did you know that Jaidee is in the stables?” She said then, her mind turned to the mare that she thought had been sold away. ”The Queen and I went riding together, and she was just...there. I couldn’t believe my eyes.” Her fingers picked at the skin of her opposite hand, shaking her head even as she smiled down in her lap. She had a sneaking suspicion of how the mare had come to be there.
She cleared her throat knowing that she should probably get to the point of why she had come calling, bolstering her courage and reaching up to brush her hair from her shoulders. She looked young and old at the same time, the corners of her eyes pinched with worry. ”That letter…” She said, not looking away. ”The one you were reading when I came in...that’s my mother’s handwriting isn’t it?”
She spared it a glance then, just a short distance away, before turning her gaze back to him. ”What did she say?” Sara asked, blue gaze dark with an attempt to guard herself against what he might say. Perhaps it was best to know what was expected before she tried to plead her case.
“Have you heard the story of what happened when I first came here after his death?” He asked his little sister. They rarely talked about their separate relationships with the man who had been their father. She knew a different man than he did simply because she was a different gender. He had been far kinder to his daughters than to his sons, with higher expectations on those who were legitimate. And he hadn’t wanted to alter the man she saw in her mind. While he wasn’t a girl, he knew that most held a special place for their father.
Who was he to ruin the man she had turned Irakles into in her mind?
Instead, with a smile, he watched as she settled into the space. Rising from his seat, he moved to the front of the desk, resting against it as his eyes tracked her movement to the old bookcase. “It is no surprise that he was a very different man for you than he was for me. But that doesn’t mean I did not mourn him when he died. I may have destroyed this room in my anger at his death.” He wondered if she realized that the bookshelf was slightly crooked now, off kilter from when it had crashed to the ground.
Did she realize the chair was new? Or that some of the tomes had been replaced?
“And while he put me in a position I did not think I would ever get, I was more mad at him for leaving without more direction. He’d always favored Achilleas, always spent his time teaching him what he needed to know to be the head of the house. And now, none of those lessons really matter since he’s king now. He created these roles for us but left us with little guidance on how to do it, and I took that anger out on his stuff. Apparently, it was fairly pathetic, so much so that Lady Theodora berated me for my childish behavior.” Head shaking, he didn’t know exactly why he shared that story with her. Perhaps it was because he wanted her to know that she didn’t have to carry her grief alone. While his sorrow might have been different, it was just as important as hers.
With a smile, he let his arms cross in front of him. “Your concern is sweet, Duckling. I am doing as well as expected. Luckily there are plenty of advisors to do most of the hard work. As long as I don’t get too crazy and think I can do it myself, I find the role isn’t too taxing.” His fingers itched for a bow again, but there was no way he could find time for that hobby now. “I am more interested in hearing about how you are handling things. Are you alright? You have been hiding the past two days-- what is on your mind that is troubling you as much as it is?”
He could tell that she had more that she wanted to say, had more of a reason for being here. Whatever it was, he wanted to know. And perhaps he could tell her about the letter he’d just read. Maybe she had received a similar letter from her mother and she was here to ask him to send her home.
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“Have you heard the story of what happened when I first came here after his death?” He asked his little sister. They rarely talked about their separate relationships with the man who had been their father. She knew a different man than he did simply because she was a different gender. He had been far kinder to his daughters than to his sons, with higher expectations on those who were legitimate. And he hadn’t wanted to alter the man she saw in her mind. While he wasn’t a girl, he knew that most held a special place for their father.
Who was he to ruin the man she had turned Irakles into in her mind?
Instead, with a smile, he watched as she settled into the space. Rising from his seat, he moved to the front of the desk, resting against it as his eyes tracked her movement to the old bookcase. “It is no surprise that he was a very different man for you than he was for me. But that doesn’t mean I did not mourn him when he died. I may have destroyed this room in my anger at his death.” He wondered if she realized that the bookshelf was slightly crooked now, off kilter from when it had crashed to the ground.
Did she realize the chair was new? Or that some of the tomes had been replaced?
“And while he put me in a position I did not think I would ever get, I was more mad at him for leaving without more direction. He’d always favored Achilleas, always spent his time teaching him what he needed to know to be the head of the house. And now, none of those lessons really matter since he’s king now. He created these roles for us but left us with little guidance on how to do it, and I took that anger out on his stuff. Apparently, it was fairly pathetic, so much so that Lady Theodora berated me for my childish behavior.” Head shaking, he didn’t know exactly why he shared that story with her. Perhaps it was because he wanted her to know that she didn’t have to carry her grief alone. While his sorrow might have been different, it was just as important as hers.
With a smile, he let his arms cross in front of him. “Your concern is sweet, Duckling. I am doing as well as expected. Luckily there are plenty of advisors to do most of the hard work. As long as I don’t get too crazy and think I can do it myself, I find the role isn’t too taxing.” His fingers itched for a bow again, but there was no way he could find time for that hobby now. “I am more interested in hearing about how you are handling things. Are you alright? You have been hiding the past two days-- what is on your mind that is troubling you as much as it is?”
He could tell that she had more that she wanted to say, had more of a reason for being here. Whatever it was, he wanted to know. And perhaps he could tell her about the letter he’d just read. Maybe she had received a similar letter from her mother and she was here to ask him to send her home.
“Have you heard the story of what happened when I first came here after his death?” He asked his little sister. They rarely talked about their separate relationships with the man who had been their father. She knew a different man than he did simply because she was a different gender. He had been far kinder to his daughters than to his sons, with higher expectations on those who were legitimate. And he hadn’t wanted to alter the man she saw in her mind. While he wasn’t a girl, he knew that most held a special place for their father.
Who was he to ruin the man she had turned Irakles into in her mind?
Instead, with a smile, he watched as she settled into the space. Rising from his seat, he moved to the front of the desk, resting against it as his eyes tracked her movement to the old bookcase. “It is no surprise that he was a very different man for you than he was for me. But that doesn’t mean I did not mourn him when he died. I may have destroyed this room in my anger at his death.” He wondered if she realized that the bookshelf was slightly crooked now, off kilter from when it had crashed to the ground.
Did she realize the chair was new? Or that some of the tomes had been replaced?
“And while he put me in a position I did not think I would ever get, I was more mad at him for leaving without more direction. He’d always favored Achilleas, always spent his time teaching him what he needed to know to be the head of the house. And now, none of those lessons really matter since he’s king now. He created these roles for us but left us with little guidance on how to do it, and I took that anger out on his stuff. Apparently, it was fairly pathetic, so much so that Lady Theodora berated me for my childish behavior.” Head shaking, he didn’t know exactly why he shared that story with her. Perhaps it was because he wanted her to know that she didn’t have to carry her grief alone. While his sorrow might have been different, it was just as important as hers.
With a smile, he let his arms cross in front of him. “Your concern is sweet, Duckling. I am doing as well as expected. Luckily there are plenty of advisors to do most of the hard work. As long as I don’t get too crazy and think I can do it myself, I find the role isn’t too taxing.” His fingers itched for a bow again, but there was no way he could find time for that hobby now. “I am more interested in hearing about how you are handling things. Are you alright? You have been hiding the past two days-- what is on your mind that is troubling you as much as it is?”
He could tell that she had more that she wanted to say, had more of a reason for being here. Whatever it was, he wanted to know. And perhaps he could tell her about the letter he’d just read. Maybe she had received a similar letter from her mother and she was here to ask him to send her home.
It felt strange to talk about father. Since his death, the topic had been thoroughly avoided by everyone in the household. He was gone, he was not fondly remembered for the most part and there was nothing to be done. She remembered crying hard enough that she was sick, angry at the god of death for taking him away. It had not just been the fact that his death meant an upheaval of change for her, but she had known sides of Irakles that no one else had. Carefully, she met her brother’s gaze and held it. She knew that her father had been heavy handed with his legitimate children, the sons that would carry his bloodline forward into the future.
”No,” She murmured. Her hands fidgeted nervously in her lap, a strange lump in her throat to hear her brother recount his own grief. Her face softened, and she had to resist the urge to go to him and wrap her arms around him like she had when she’d been very small. He’d never berated her for her affections, welcoming them more than anyone else in the family. They were two sides of the same coin, sensitive and young but strong. So strong.
”He probably thought he had more time.” She said sadly. ”He always had such...grand plans. Secret, but grand. He always wanted more for our family, even if he went about it in all the wrong ways.” She shrugged gently, and did notice that things looked a little different in here. She couldn’t say she’d spent enough time in the palati, still mostly relegated to the archontikos while things had been moved. ”I’m sorry, Emmy.” Her voice was small when she spoke, her gaze fallen back to her hands. ”I know you and Achilleas grieve him too. It was...so unexpected.”
Sara was glad to hear that he had assistance in his new role. It wasn’t anything that he’d been raised for, at most he’d been trained and prepared for a barony. Maybe some advisory position. A military one. Something...but acting as the king? Gods, she could not imagine the pressure.
Are you alright? You have been hiding the past two days-- what is on your mind that is troubling you as much as it is?”
She grinned, nervous but caught. ”You always see right through me.” She said, sinking back in the chair. ”I’ve been...trying to think of how to petition you for something.” She admitted. Her tongue pressed to the inside of her lip, teeth sinking nervously into the soft flesh. ”I would like...to stay here, or-r somewhere like it.” She started to talk fast then, all intention of being slow and intentional thrown to the wind. ”I’ve just...been thinking about it and I want to stay close if I can. There...there really isn’t anything waiting for me at home, and I hate...hate the idea of picking sides but I...can’t go back to not seeing you again.” She took a deep breath, then continued.
”At least here, with you, I have some freedom. I’m not a bargaining chip to be bartered off. I promise, if you let me stay that you won’t regret it. I will do anything...I can work or I can...” She trailed off, unsure of what she really could offer. She had her hobbies and such but nothing all that valuable. She didn’t want to admit that her mother was probably trying to find someone who had enough money to marry both her and Tasia off.
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It felt strange to talk about father. Since his death, the topic had been thoroughly avoided by everyone in the household. He was gone, he was not fondly remembered for the most part and there was nothing to be done. She remembered crying hard enough that she was sick, angry at the god of death for taking him away. It had not just been the fact that his death meant an upheaval of change for her, but she had known sides of Irakles that no one else had. Carefully, she met her brother’s gaze and held it. She knew that her father had been heavy handed with his legitimate children, the sons that would carry his bloodline forward into the future.
”No,” She murmured. Her hands fidgeted nervously in her lap, a strange lump in her throat to hear her brother recount his own grief. Her face softened, and she had to resist the urge to go to him and wrap her arms around him like she had when she’d been very small. He’d never berated her for her affections, welcoming them more than anyone else in the family. They were two sides of the same coin, sensitive and young but strong. So strong.
”He probably thought he had more time.” She said sadly. ”He always had such...grand plans. Secret, but grand. He always wanted more for our family, even if he went about it in all the wrong ways.” She shrugged gently, and did notice that things looked a little different in here. She couldn’t say she’d spent enough time in the palati, still mostly relegated to the archontikos while things had been moved. ”I’m sorry, Emmy.” Her voice was small when she spoke, her gaze fallen back to her hands. ”I know you and Achilleas grieve him too. It was...so unexpected.”
Sara was glad to hear that he had assistance in his new role. It wasn’t anything that he’d been raised for, at most he’d been trained and prepared for a barony. Maybe some advisory position. A military one. Something...but acting as the king? Gods, she could not imagine the pressure.
Are you alright? You have been hiding the past two days-- what is on your mind that is troubling you as much as it is?”
She grinned, nervous but caught. ”You always see right through me.” She said, sinking back in the chair. ”I’ve been...trying to think of how to petition you for something.” She admitted. Her tongue pressed to the inside of her lip, teeth sinking nervously into the soft flesh. ”I would like...to stay here, or-r somewhere like it.” She started to talk fast then, all intention of being slow and intentional thrown to the wind. ”I’ve just...been thinking about it and I want to stay close if I can. There...there really isn’t anything waiting for me at home, and I hate...hate the idea of picking sides but I...can’t go back to not seeing you again.” She took a deep breath, then continued.
”At least here, with you, I have some freedom. I’m not a bargaining chip to be bartered off. I promise, if you let me stay that you won’t regret it. I will do anything...I can work or I can...” She trailed off, unsure of what she really could offer. She had her hobbies and such but nothing all that valuable. She didn’t want to admit that her mother was probably trying to find someone who had enough money to marry both her and Tasia off.
It felt strange to talk about father. Since his death, the topic had been thoroughly avoided by everyone in the household. He was gone, he was not fondly remembered for the most part and there was nothing to be done. She remembered crying hard enough that she was sick, angry at the god of death for taking him away. It had not just been the fact that his death meant an upheaval of change for her, but she had known sides of Irakles that no one else had. Carefully, she met her brother’s gaze and held it. She knew that her father had been heavy handed with his legitimate children, the sons that would carry his bloodline forward into the future.
”No,” She murmured. Her hands fidgeted nervously in her lap, a strange lump in her throat to hear her brother recount his own grief. Her face softened, and she had to resist the urge to go to him and wrap her arms around him like she had when she’d been very small. He’d never berated her for her affections, welcoming them more than anyone else in the family. They were two sides of the same coin, sensitive and young but strong. So strong.
”He probably thought he had more time.” She said sadly. ”He always had such...grand plans. Secret, but grand. He always wanted more for our family, even if he went about it in all the wrong ways.” She shrugged gently, and did notice that things looked a little different in here. She couldn’t say she’d spent enough time in the palati, still mostly relegated to the archontikos while things had been moved. ”I’m sorry, Emmy.” Her voice was small when she spoke, her gaze fallen back to her hands. ”I know you and Achilleas grieve him too. It was...so unexpected.”
Sara was glad to hear that he had assistance in his new role. It wasn’t anything that he’d been raised for, at most he’d been trained and prepared for a barony. Maybe some advisory position. A military one. Something...but acting as the king? Gods, she could not imagine the pressure.
Are you alright? You have been hiding the past two days-- what is on your mind that is troubling you as much as it is?”
She grinned, nervous but caught. ”You always see right through me.” She said, sinking back in the chair. ”I’ve been...trying to think of how to petition you for something.” She admitted. Her tongue pressed to the inside of her lip, teeth sinking nervously into the soft flesh. ”I would like...to stay here, or-r somewhere like it.” She started to talk fast then, all intention of being slow and intentional thrown to the wind. ”I’ve just...been thinking about it and I want to stay close if I can. There...there really isn’t anything waiting for me at home, and I hate...hate the idea of picking sides but I...can’t go back to not seeing you again.” She took a deep breath, then continued.
”At least here, with you, I have some freedom. I’m not a bargaining chip to be bartered off. I promise, if you let me stay that you won’t regret it. I will do anything...I can work or I can...” She trailed off, unsure of what she really could offer. She had her hobbies and such but nothing all that valuable. She didn’t want to admit that her mother was probably trying to find someone who had enough money to marry both her and Tasia off.
Duckling. Emmy. Such precious names the prince and his sister had for one another. The Drowned One smiled beneath his wraps, a cruel glint in his eye. The little one wanted to stay, did she? Good. Let her be witness to the fall of her family. Let her tears water the graves of her brothers.
He had heard all he needed to, melting back from the wall he pressed against—the guttering lights of the torches he passed the only evidence he’d ever been present at all…
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Jan 16, 2021 21:28:40 GMT
Posted In little favors on Jan 16, 2021 21:28:40 GMT
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Duckling. Emmy. Such precious names the prince and his sister had for one another. The Drowned One smiled beneath his wraps, a cruel glint in his eye. The little one wanted to stay, did she? Good. Let her be witness to the fall of her family. Let her tears water the graves of her brothers.
He had heard all he needed to, melting back from the wall he pressed against—the guttering lights of the torches he passed the only evidence he’d ever been present at all…
Duckling. Emmy. Such precious names the prince and his sister had for one another. The Drowned One smiled beneath his wraps, a cruel glint in his eye. The little one wanted to stay, did she? Good. Let her be witness to the fall of her family. Let her tears water the graves of her brothers.
He had heard all he needed to, melting back from the wall he pressed against—the guttering lights of the torches he passed the only evidence he’d ever been present at all…
