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The boar hair bristles of the brush she held flowed smoothly through Melina’s hair as Xanthippe drew it down from scalp to ends in a soothing repetitive motion. It was the normal evening routine for them—the handmaid would help her mistress undress, brush out her hair, stoke the fire, ensure she had water or tea or whatever her heart desired before heading to sleep. Though she hadn’t been able to rid them of Sara quite yet, this nightly ritual still remained theirs and theirs alone. It was always nice to spend an hour or two without the annoying little bitch underfoot.
Tonight, though, Melina was quiet, unwontedly so. Normally, they chattered back and forth as Xanthippe worked, sharing details of their days as they wound down for the night. This apathetic silence was unusual for her mistress, and she wondered at its source. Had she done something to offend or anger her? Had Sara done something? If she had, she’d kill her…
Why don’t you just take your opportunity already?
I’ve told you why. A dozen times, at least.
You make nothing but excuses. When will you act instead?
Soon enough, you’ll have cause to regret those words.
Tuning the gods out, she refocused her attention on Melina, setting the brush aside when she was satisfied the woman’s dark hair was silky-smooth and free of snares and tangles. Maybe it was something else that had her like this, something entirely unrelated. Worry for the King, perhaps, though she knew her mistress and Achilleas were not particularly close. Worry for Taengea at large, then? The country was in quite the delicate state, and Melina was a sensitive type. Perhaps it was that.
“My lady?” Xan prompted, voice quiet. “Are you all right? You’ve hardly said a word today, and you barely touched your supper.”
Maybe she was worried for her father, even if Fotios wasn’t always the warmest man to his middle child. It was just an illness, though, it would pass. She needn’t worry, surely. Then again, the Leventi woman possessed a tender heart, perhaps the most so among her sisters and cousins, and it wouldn’t surprise her if she held such concern for the man.
“It’s very unlike you,” she went on in a murmur, drawing back a small strand of hair from the side of her mistress’s head and carefully plaiting it into the rest. While most knew Melina as a shy and retiring wallflower, that was not the face she showed to Xan, not when they were alone. “Whatever it is, you can tell me, you know. I hate seeing you like this.”
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The boar hair bristles of the brush she held flowed smoothly through Melina’s hair as Xanthippe drew it down from scalp to ends in a soothing repetitive motion. It was the normal evening routine for them—the handmaid would help her mistress undress, brush out her hair, stoke the fire, ensure she had water or tea or whatever her heart desired before heading to sleep. Though she hadn’t been able to rid them of Sara quite yet, this nightly ritual still remained theirs and theirs alone. It was always nice to spend an hour or two without the annoying little bitch underfoot.
Tonight, though, Melina was quiet, unwontedly so. Normally, they chattered back and forth as Xanthippe worked, sharing details of their days as they wound down for the night. This apathetic silence was unusual for her mistress, and she wondered at its source. Had she done something to offend or anger her? Had Sara done something? If she had, she’d kill her…
Why don’t you just take your opportunity already?
I’ve told you why. A dozen times, at least.
You make nothing but excuses. When will you act instead?
Soon enough, you’ll have cause to regret those words.
Tuning the gods out, she refocused her attention on Melina, setting the brush aside when she was satisfied the woman’s dark hair was silky-smooth and free of snares and tangles. Maybe it was something else that had her like this, something entirely unrelated. Worry for the King, perhaps, though she knew her mistress and Achilleas were not particularly close. Worry for Taengea at large, then? The country was in quite the delicate state, and Melina was a sensitive type. Perhaps it was that.
“My lady?” Xan prompted, voice quiet. “Are you all right? You’ve hardly said a word today, and you barely touched your supper.”
Maybe she was worried for her father, even if Fotios wasn’t always the warmest man to his middle child. It was just an illness, though, it would pass. She needn’t worry, surely. Then again, the Leventi woman possessed a tender heart, perhaps the most so among her sisters and cousins, and it wouldn’t surprise her if she held such concern for the man.
“It’s very unlike you,” she went on in a murmur, drawing back a small strand of hair from the side of her mistress’s head and carefully plaiting it into the rest. While most knew Melina as a shy and retiring wallflower, that was not the face she showed to Xan, not when they were alone. “Whatever it is, you can tell me, you know. I hate seeing you like this.”
The boar hair bristles of the brush she held flowed smoothly through Melina’s hair as Xanthippe drew it down from scalp to ends in a soothing repetitive motion. It was the normal evening routine for them—the handmaid would help her mistress undress, brush out her hair, stoke the fire, ensure she had water or tea or whatever her heart desired before heading to sleep. Though she hadn’t been able to rid them of Sara quite yet, this nightly ritual still remained theirs and theirs alone. It was always nice to spend an hour or two without the annoying little bitch underfoot.
Tonight, though, Melina was quiet, unwontedly so. Normally, they chattered back and forth as Xanthippe worked, sharing details of their days as they wound down for the night. This apathetic silence was unusual for her mistress, and she wondered at its source. Had she done something to offend or anger her? Had Sara done something? If she had, she’d kill her…
Why don’t you just take your opportunity already?
I’ve told you why. A dozen times, at least.
You make nothing but excuses. When will you act instead?
Soon enough, you’ll have cause to regret those words.
Tuning the gods out, she refocused her attention on Melina, setting the brush aside when she was satisfied the woman’s dark hair was silky-smooth and free of snares and tangles. Maybe it was something else that had her like this, something entirely unrelated. Worry for the King, perhaps, though she knew her mistress and Achilleas were not particularly close. Worry for Taengea at large, then? The country was in quite the delicate state, and Melina was a sensitive type. Perhaps it was that.
“My lady?” Xan prompted, voice quiet. “Are you all right? You’ve hardly said a word today, and you barely touched your supper.”
Maybe she was worried for her father, even if Fotios wasn’t always the warmest man to his middle child. It was just an illness, though, it would pass. She needn’t worry, surely. Then again, the Leventi woman possessed a tender heart, perhaps the most so among her sisters and cousins, and it wouldn’t surprise her if she held such concern for the man.
“It’s very unlike you,” she went on in a murmur, drawing back a small strand of hair from the side of her mistress’s head and carefully plaiting it into the rest. While most knew Melina as a shy and retiring wallflower, that was not the face she showed to Xan, not when they were alone. “Whatever it is, you can tell me, you know. I hate seeing you like this.”
Everything felt… wrong. Melina didn’t know quite how to describe it. It was just a feeling, a feeling that told her things were awry. It started when the news of the King being captured spread around Taengea. Weird things popped up from there. Melina heard stories of bloodied rattles being given to her cousin, Pia. That was all terrifying and yet… what worried Melina the most was her father. He was a strong man, the strongest man she ever met. To see him so weak and feeble in bed was… shocking. It was terrifying.
Was Melina close to her father? She liked to say yes, but that didn’t necessarily make it true. He was hard on her. Everything she did was wrong. No matter how hard Melina tried it was never good enough. She wasn’t like her cousins. She wasn’t beautiful, she wasn’t talented, she was average- and average might be a bit of a stretch in her father’s eyes. So to be worried about him might be unusual from an outsider’s perspective. Why worry for a man who wasn’t known for his warm love and compassion?
But at the end of the day, he was her father. He was the man who protected her when things were scary. He was the man she sought approval of time and time again. All she had ever wanted to was make him proud. But now he was a fevered man in bed, sleeping most of the day away. What if Hades claimed him? What then? What would happen?
Melina hadn’t realized how quiet she was. She felt the bristles of the brush go through her hair. It was typically a feeling she’d enjoyed. She’d relax when Sara or Xan did this for her, and she’d talk about her day, or she’d tell them about what she’d been reading, or the flowers she wanted to have the Gardners grow in the spring. Before she had talked to Xan about books she was reading from Egypt, being curious about the place they went to war with. But lately… each time she settled down with it her mind drifted to her father.
My lady? Are you alright? Melina blinked and lifted her head towards Xan. Xan was so gentle with her, moving the strand of hair back to the rest of her hair like it too was precious and delicate, a literal example of not harming a single hair on her head. How obvious Melina made the fact her mind was burdened with thoughts of her father. Then again if she tried to hide it, Xan would know anyway. She knew everything.
“Xan, I’m worried about father. It might be silly of me to think, premature even, but… what would happen if he were to pass on? What would happen with us? And with mother? Would we continue to live in this manor or would we have to live in the other? Would… would everything be okay?” Her eyebrow furrowed at her own words. She was trying to think practically when there was far more emotion involved in this. “You would stay right? In the scenario where father passes on, you wouldn’t be shipped away right? Father and I favor you, but I’m not sure about my uncles…” Losing her father would be devastating but losing Xan too? That would be… that would be too much. Melina wouldn’t be able to handle that. “Father won’t die right?”
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Everything felt… wrong. Melina didn’t know quite how to describe it. It was just a feeling, a feeling that told her things were awry. It started when the news of the King being captured spread around Taengea. Weird things popped up from there. Melina heard stories of bloodied rattles being given to her cousin, Pia. That was all terrifying and yet… what worried Melina the most was her father. He was a strong man, the strongest man she ever met. To see him so weak and feeble in bed was… shocking. It was terrifying.
Was Melina close to her father? She liked to say yes, but that didn’t necessarily make it true. He was hard on her. Everything she did was wrong. No matter how hard Melina tried it was never good enough. She wasn’t like her cousins. She wasn’t beautiful, she wasn’t talented, she was average- and average might be a bit of a stretch in her father’s eyes. So to be worried about him might be unusual from an outsider’s perspective. Why worry for a man who wasn’t known for his warm love and compassion?
But at the end of the day, he was her father. He was the man who protected her when things were scary. He was the man she sought approval of time and time again. All she had ever wanted to was make him proud. But now he was a fevered man in bed, sleeping most of the day away. What if Hades claimed him? What then? What would happen?
Melina hadn’t realized how quiet she was. She felt the bristles of the brush go through her hair. It was typically a feeling she’d enjoyed. She’d relax when Sara or Xan did this for her, and she’d talk about her day, or she’d tell them about what she’d been reading, or the flowers she wanted to have the Gardners grow in the spring. Before she had talked to Xan about books she was reading from Egypt, being curious about the place they went to war with. But lately… each time she settled down with it her mind drifted to her father.
My lady? Are you alright? Melina blinked and lifted her head towards Xan. Xan was so gentle with her, moving the strand of hair back to the rest of her hair like it too was precious and delicate, a literal example of not harming a single hair on her head. How obvious Melina made the fact her mind was burdened with thoughts of her father. Then again if she tried to hide it, Xan would know anyway. She knew everything.
“Xan, I’m worried about father. It might be silly of me to think, premature even, but… what would happen if he were to pass on? What would happen with us? And with mother? Would we continue to live in this manor or would we have to live in the other? Would… would everything be okay?” Her eyebrow furrowed at her own words. She was trying to think practically when there was far more emotion involved in this. “You would stay right? In the scenario where father passes on, you wouldn’t be shipped away right? Father and I favor you, but I’m not sure about my uncles…” Losing her father would be devastating but losing Xan too? That would be… that would be too much. Melina wouldn’t be able to handle that. “Father won’t die right?”
Everything felt… wrong. Melina didn’t know quite how to describe it. It was just a feeling, a feeling that told her things were awry. It started when the news of the King being captured spread around Taengea. Weird things popped up from there. Melina heard stories of bloodied rattles being given to her cousin, Pia. That was all terrifying and yet… what worried Melina the most was her father. He was a strong man, the strongest man she ever met. To see him so weak and feeble in bed was… shocking. It was terrifying.
Was Melina close to her father? She liked to say yes, but that didn’t necessarily make it true. He was hard on her. Everything she did was wrong. No matter how hard Melina tried it was never good enough. She wasn’t like her cousins. She wasn’t beautiful, she wasn’t talented, she was average- and average might be a bit of a stretch in her father’s eyes. So to be worried about him might be unusual from an outsider’s perspective. Why worry for a man who wasn’t known for his warm love and compassion?
But at the end of the day, he was her father. He was the man who protected her when things were scary. He was the man she sought approval of time and time again. All she had ever wanted to was make him proud. But now he was a fevered man in bed, sleeping most of the day away. What if Hades claimed him? What then? What would happen?
Melina hadn’t realized how quiet she was. She felt the bristles of the brush go through her hair. It was typically a feeling she’d enjoyed. She’d relax when Sara or Xan did this for her, and she’d talk about her day, or she’d tell them about what she’d been reading, or the flowers she wanted to have the Gardners grow in the spring. Before she had talked to Xan about books she was reading from Egypt, being curious about the place they went to war with. But lately… each time she settled down with it her mind drifted to her father.
My lady? Are you alright? Melina blinked and lifted her head towards Xan. Xan was so gentle with her, moving the strand of hair back to the rest of her hair like it too was precious and delicate, a literal example of not harming a single hair on her head. How obvious Melina made the fact her mind was burdened with thoughts of her father. Then again if she tried to hide it, Xan would know anyway. She knew everything.
“Xan, I’m worried about father. It might be silly of me to think, premature even, but… what would happen if he were to pass on? What would happen with us? And with mother? Would we continue to live in this manor or would we have to live in the other? Would… would everything be okay?” Her eyebrow furrowed at her own words. She was trying to think practically when there was far more emotion involved in this. “You would stay right? In the scenario where father passes on, you wouldn’t be shipped away right? Father and I favor you, but I’m not sure about my uncles…” Losing her father would be devastating but losing Xan too? That would be… that would be too much. Melina wouldn’t be able to handle that. “Father won’t die right?”
So, she was worried about Fotios, then. Xanthippe’s hands stilled where they plaited her hair, pausing for a moment before continuing on to the ends. Gently patting her shoulder, she stepped off to the side, pulling up a seat so she could talk to her face rather than the back of her head. Poor, sweet thing. Of course, she was scared. Why wouldn’t she be? But she had nothing to fear. Not with Xan around.
“Your father is going to be fine,” she was quick to reassure her mistress, carefully taking one of her hands and grasping it between the two of hers. “Lord Fotios is one of the strongest men in Greece. I know he will not succumb to sickness so easily.”
He is weak.
She was no longer sure if she agreed or disagreed with that, and so she remained silent to the voice speaking in her head, focusing her attention solely on Melina. “But if something were to happen—which it won’t,” she quickly interrupted herself, patting the other woman’s hand. “I will not leave, I promise you that. Your uncles won’t send me away. They wouldn’t have reason to.” She also knew the location of certain documents that would ensure they couldn’t send her away… or well, that they shouldn’t, anyway. She doubted it would come to that, though. While they might not favor her in the same way Fotios and Melina did, she had been nothing but loyal to the family. Why would they get rid of her?
Suspicion. They are wary of you.
It doesn’t matter. They have nothing to back up their worry.
Money. You are too costly.
I’m hardly paid now. I wouldn’t ask for more.
You put too much faith in the wills of men.
You put too little in me.
Xanthippe would like to see any of the lesser Leventi lords try to send her away, especially with the favor she now enjoyed. And if they did try? Well… they could enjoy their graves. Nothing would keep her away from Melina. Nothing.
“Your father is going to live,” she assured Melina again, gently cupping her cheek for a moment. “I know you’re afraid, but all will be well. His Lordship is too stubborn not to make it through.” She couldn’t blame Melina for her worry, though—it had been weeks now that Fotios had been bedridden, the longest she had ever seen him down. Few were allowed at his side for fear that he might be catching—even she had only seen him twice. She wasn’t sure if Melina had seen him at all.
Once, she might have feared for her own fate should anything happen to her savior. He pulled her up from nothing, gave her all that she had, made her all that she was, reminded her time and time again that no one else would care for her in the way he did. But now? Now, she was not so sure. He gave her everything, yes, but what was to stop her from keeping it? She was stronger now, older and wiser. Would she really fare so poorly on her own?
“You need not fear, my lady. Even if worse comes to worst, you will not lack for anything. Your family will care for you, and so will I.” Squeezing her hand, she let it go with a reassuring smile before carefully tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.
“Now, tell me, was that all? You know, I saw Sara out in the gardens yesterday, and I thought that might be what was upsetting you.” A cunning light shone in her eye, busying her hands with neatening up the vanity where Melina sat. “She was talking to the grounds keepers about tearing out some of the flower bushes and replacing them with an herb garden. I told her you probably wouldn’t like that, but I don’t know. Bia seemed to think it was a good idea, too.”
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So, she was worried about Fotios, then. Xanthippe’s hands stilled where they plaited her hair, pausing for a moment before continuing on to the ends. Gently patting her shoulder, she stepped off to the side, pulling up a seat so she could talk to her face rather than the back of her head. Poor, sweet thing. Of course, she was scared. Why wouldn’t she be? But she had nothing to fear. Not with Xan around.
“Your father is going to be fine,” she was quick to reassure her mistress, carefully taking one of her hands and grasping it between the two of hers. “Lord Fotios is one of the strongest men in Greece. I know he will not succumb to sickness so easily.”
He is weak.
She was no longer sure if she agreed or disagreed with that, and so she remained silent to the voice speaking in her head, focusing her attention solely on Melina. “But if something were to happen—which it won’t,” she quickly interrupted herself, patting the other woman’s hand. “I will not leave, I promise you that. Your uncles won’t send me away. They wouldn’t have reason to.” She also knew the location of certain documents that would ensure they couldn’t send her away… or well, that they shouldn’t, anyway. She doubted it would come to that, though. While they might not favor her in the same way Fotios and Melina did, she had been nothing but loyal to the family. Why would they get rid of her?
Suspicion. They are wary of you.
It doesn’t matter. They have nothing to back up their worry.
Money. You are too costly.
I’m hardly paid now. I wouldn’t ask for more.
You put too much faith in the wills of men.
You put too little in me.
Xanthippe would like to see any of the lesser Leventi lords try to send her away, especially with the favor she now enjoyed. And if they did try? Well… they could enjoy their graves. Nothing would keep her away from Melina. Nothing.
“Your father is going to live,” she assured Melina again, gently cupping her cheek for a moment. “I know you’re afraid, but all will be well. His Lordship is too stubborn not to make it through.” She couldn’t blame Melina for her worry, though—it had been weeks now that Fotios had been bedridden, the longest she had ever seen him down. Few were allowed at his side for fear that he might be catching—even she had only seen him twice. She wasn’t sure if Melina had seen him at all.
Once, she might have feared for her own fate should anything happen to her savior. He pulled her up from nothing, gave her all that she had, made her all that she was, reminded her time and time again that no one else would care for her in the way he did. But now? Now, she was not so sure. He gave her everything, yes, but what was to stop her from keeping it? She was stronger now, older and wiser. Would she really fare so poorly on her own?
“You need not fear, my lady. Even if worse comes to worst, you will not lack for anything. Your family will care for you, and so will I.” Squeezing her hand, she let it go with a reassuring smile before carefully tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.
“Now, tell me, was that all? You know, I saw Sara out in the gardens yesterday, and I thought that might be what was upsetting you.” A cunning light shone in her eye, busying her hands with neatening up the vanity where Melina sat. “She was talking to the grounds keepers about tearing out some of the flower bushes and replacing them with an herb garden. I told her you probably wouldn’t like that, but I don’t know. Bia seemed to think it was a good idea, too.”
So, she was worried about Fotios, then. Xanthippe’s hands stilled where they plaited her hair, pausing for a moment before continuing on to the ends. Gently patting her shoulder, she stepped off to the side, pulling up a seat so she could talk to her face rather than the back of her head. Poor, sweet thing. Of course, she was scared. Why wouldn’t she be? But she had nothing to fear. Not with Xan around.
“Your father is going to be fine,” she was quick to reassure her mistress, carefully taking one of her hands and grasping it between the two of hers. “Lord Fotios is one of the strongest men in Greece. I know he will not succumb to sickness so easily.”
He is weak.
She was no longer sure if she agreed or disagreed with that, and so she remained silent to the voice speaking in her head, focusing her attention solely on Melina. “But if something were to happen—which it won’t,” she quickly interrupted herself, patting the other woman’s hand. “I will not leave, I promise you that. Your uncles won’t send me away. They wouldn’t have reason to.” She also knew the location of certain documents that would ensure they couldn’t send her away… or well, that they shouldn’t, anyway. She doubted it would come to that, though. While they might not favor her in the same way Fotios and Melina did, she had been nothing but loyal to the family. Why would they get rid of her?
Suspicion. They are wary of you.
It doesn’t matter. They have nothing to back up their worry.
Money. You are too costly.
I’m hardly paid now. I wouldn’t ask for more.
You put too much faith in the wills of men.
You put too little in me.
Xanthippe would like to see any of the lesser Leventi lords try to send her away, especially with the favor she now enjoyed. And if they did try? Well… they could enjoy their graves. Nothing would keep her away from Melina. Nothing.
“Your father is going to live,” she assured Melina again, gently cupping her cheek for a moment. “I know you’re afraid, but all will be well. His Lordship is too stubborn not to make it through.” She couldn’t blame Melina for her worry, though—it had been weeks now that Fotios had been bedridden, the longest she had ever seen him down. Few were allowed at his side for fear that he might be catching—even she had only seen him twice. She wasn’t sure if Melina had seen him at all.
Once, she might have feared for her own fate should anything happen to her savior. He pulled her up from nothing, gave her all that she had, made her all that she was, reminded her time and time again that no one else would care for her in the way he did. But now? Now, she was not so sure. He gave her everything, yes, but what was to stop her from keeping it? She was stronger now, older and wiser. Would she really fare so poorly on her own?
“You need not fear, my lady. Even if worse comes to worst, you will not lack for anything. Your family will care for you, and so will I.” Squeezing her hand, she let it go with a reassuring smile before carefully tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.
“Now, tell me, was that all? You know, I saw Sara out in the gardens yesterday, and I thought that might be what was upsetting you.” A cunning light shone in her eye, busying her hands with neatening up the vanity where Melina sat. “She was talking to the grounds keepers about tearing out some of the flower bushes and replacing them with an herb garden. I told her you probably wouldn’t like that, but I don’t know. Bia seemed to think it was a good idea, too.”
It wasn’t that Melina didn’t believe Xan. She always believed Xan. Never did she have a reason to lie. But in this case, she couldn’t help but have that small little voice telling her that something was going to go horribly wrong. It was that doubt that crept into her thoughts always. She was doing something wrong, saying something wrong, she was wrong. Only this time it wasn’t Melina that was wrong. That voice was saying Xan was.
It was the pessimist in Melina thinking the worst always. Melina had only been allowed to see her father once. He hadn’t even been awake when she saw him. Her father was a tall, proud, and at times terrifying man. He was like the heroes in the stories of the gods. He was Hercules. And yet… when she saw him she was reminded of his mortality. He looked frail. He looked weak. He looked…
Pathetic.
It was odd to think of her father as something less than perfect. But when she saw his pale, frail figure with sweat dripping across her brow the thought, as cruel as it was, crossed her mind. He looked pathetic. The man who raised her to strive to be like her cousins, beautiful, intelligent, perfect was… someone who looked even less than her. It wasn’t a thought Melina ever thought she’d have. To look down upon the great Fotios of Leventi was something unfathomable and yet… that was exactly what Melina did. As worried and saddened as she was for her father and as much as she prayed he wouldn’t die… she wasn’t as devastated as she would be if it were her mother or sisters. This was cruel, wasn’t it? Was something wrong with Melina for having such… contentment towards her father?
What was more relieving to Melina was hearing that Xan wouldn’t be leaving. Melina could not imagine her life without Xan. She was her anchor. When Melina might drift away in the sea of depression that often washed through her mind, she kept her centered and in place. She knew Melina better than she knew herself. She was always so earnest and tried whatever it could just to see a smile be brought upon her face. But Melina wasn’t blind to other’s feelings about Xan. Even if Melina didn’t understand it herself, some might overlook her, while others felt… discomforted by her. The former made her furious, but the latter confused her. So the thought of her father no longer here to employ her made her… wary that her uncles would not extend the same courtesy. They had no obligation to. And yet… she hoped they would.
Melina snapped out of her thoughts when Xan kept talking. Her eyebrows knitted together when she talked about Sara. “Oh… Oh, she must have noticed how upset I was about father. I hadn’t thought about growing herbs here. Do you think that would help? I’m sure… I’m sure we can get rid of some bushes if we can grow some good medicine for father. Or maybe we can clear another area. Get some planters inside just in case the weather grows foul? I’m not as learned on herbs as I am on flowers. I should ask to borrow some of Sara’s books…”
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It wasn’t that Melina didn’t believe Xan. She always believed Xan. Never did she have a reason to lie. But in this case, she couldn’t help but have that small little voice telling her that something was going to go horribly wrong. It was that doubt that crept into her thoughts always. She was doing something wrong, saying something wrong, she was wrong. Only this time it wasn’t Melina that was wrong. That voice was saying Xan was.
It was the pessimist in Melina thinking the worst always. Melina had only been allowed to see her father once. He hadn’t even been awake when she saw him. Her father was a tall, proud, and at times terrifying man. He was like the heroes in the stories of the gods. He was Hercules. And yet… when she saw him she was reminded of his mortality. He looked frail. He looked weak. He looked…
Pathetic.
It was odd to think of her father as something less than perfect. But when she saw his pale, frail figure with sweat dripping across her brow the thought, as cruel as it was, crossed her mind. He looked pathetic. The man who raised her to strive to be like her cousins, beautiful, intelligent, perfect was… someone who looked even less than her. It wasn’t a thought Melina ever thought she’d have. To look down upon the great Fotios of Leventi was something unfathomable and yet… that was exactly what Melina did. As worried and saddened as she was for her father and as much as she prayed he wouldn’t die… she wasn’t as devastated as she would be if it were her mother or sisters. This was cruel, wasn’t it? Was something wrong with Melina for having such… contentment towards her father?
What was more relieving to Melina was hearing that Xan wouldn’t be leaving. Melina could not imagine her life without Xan. She was her anchor. When Melina might drift away in the sea of depression that often washed through her mind, she kept her centered and in place. She knew Melina better than she knew herself. She was always so earnest and tried whatever it could just to see a smile be brought upon her face. But Melina wasn’t blind to other’s feelings about Xan. Even if Melina didn’t understand it herself, some might overlook her, while others felt… discomforted by her. The former made her furious, but the latter confused her. So the thought of her father no longer here to employ her made her… wary that her uncles would not extend the same courtesy. They had no obligation to. And yet… she hoped they would.
Melina snapped out of her thoughts when Xan kept talking. Her eyebrows knitted together when she talked about Sara. “Oh… Oh, she must have noticed how upset I was about father. I hadn’t thought about growing herbs here. Do you think that would help? I’m sure… I’m sure we can get rid of some bushes if we can grow some good medicine for father. Or maybe we can clear another area. Get some planters inside just in case the weather grows foul? I’m not as learned on herbs as I am on flowers. I should ask to borrow some of Sara’s books…”
It wasn’t that Melina didn’t believe Xan. She always believed Xan. Never did she have a reason to lie. But in this case, she couldn’t help but have that small little voice telling her that something was going to go horribly wrong. It was that doubt that crept into her thoughts always. She was doing something wrong, saying something wrong, she was wrong. Only this time it wasn’t Melina that was wrong. That voice was saying Xan was.
It was the pessimist in Melina thinking the worst always. Melina had only been allowed to see her father once. He hadn’t even been awake when she saw him. Her father was a tall, proud, and at times terrifying man. He was like the heroes in the stories of the gods. He was Hercules. And yet… when she saw him she was reminded of his mortality. He looked frail. He looked weak. He looked…
Pathetic.
It was odd to think of her father as something less than perfect. But when she saw his pale, frail figure with sweat dripping across her brow the thought, as cruel as it was, crossed her mind. He looked pathetic. The man who raised her to strive to be like her cousins, beautiful, intelligent, perfect was… someone who looked even less than her. It wasn’t a thought Melina ever thought she’d have. To look down upon the great Fotios of Leventi was something unfathomable and yet… that was exactly what Melina did. As worried and saddened as she was for her father and as much as she prayed he wouldn’t die… she wasn’t as devastated as she would be if it were her mother or sisters. This was cruel, wasn’t it? Was something wrong with Melina for having such… contentment towards her father?
What was more relieving to Melina was hearing that Xan wouldn’t be leaving. Melina could not imagine her life without Xan. She was her anchor. When Melina might drift away in the sea of depression that often washed through her mind, she kept her centered and in place. She knew Melina better than she knew herself. She was always so earnest and tried whatever it could just to see a smile be brought upon her face. But Melina wasn’t blind to other’s feelings about Xan. Even if Melina didn’t understand it herself, some might overlook her, while others felt… discomforted by her. The former made her furious, but the latter confused her. So the thought of her father no longer here to employ her made her… wary that her uncles would not extend the same courtesy. They had no obligation to. And yet… she hoped they would.
Melina snapped out of her thoughts when Xan kept talking. Her eyebrows knitted together when she talked about Sara. “Oh… Oh, she must have noticed how upset I was about father. I hadn’t thought about growing herbs here. Do you think that would help? I’m sure… I’m sure we can get rid of some bushes if we can grow some good medicine for father. Or maybe we can clear another area. Get some planters inside just in case the weather grows foul? I’m not as learned on herbs as I am on flowers. I should ask to borrow some of Sara’s books…”
