Vangelis had seen much in his thirty-two years. He had witnessed the aftermath of the birth of his siblings. He had seen the traumas of mine work and the results of cave ins and disasters. He had witnessed the death of masses upon the battlefield and been forced to fight for his own life when he suffered the ravages of such combat. Not once had he felt fear. Not once had he flinched in the face of such traumas. It was this stoicism that sparked rumours and gossip that he was somehow blessed by Ares with some kind of unfailing courage.



Standing on edge of the central plateia of Taengea's capitol city, Vangelis dared such rumour mongers to assess his state of mind now. Fearless, they said. Well, he might not have been ready to run and hide beneath his bed in the guest quarters of the royal palace. But he was certainly uncomfortable.



Social gatherings were not Vangelis' forte and events such as this were even worse. His tenuous grip on etiquette and appropriate conversation was of no use to him here where the rules of upper echelon communion were thrown from the window. Even when he was blunt, unyielding and offended those with whom he spoke, Vangelis could at least see where he had gone wrong in hindsight, could ensure that he was never outright insulting through basic rules of engagement. Here, when all things were upside down and back to front, he hardly trusted each inhale, fearful that its partnered exhale would ruffle the wrong feathers.



Taking a slow and calming breath, Vangelis looked across what would normally be an open space. Instead, it was full of people. Some were gathered into clusters, others were hurrying about, rushing to meet friends or to make offerings at the temple down the western street ahead of him. The very centre of the courtyard had become some kind of fighting ring, women in various stages of undress colliding in a smash of violence and virility that was no normally considered appropriate of their gentle sex. His aide, a young man that had been appointed to him by the House of Mikaelidas to support him in his needs during his visit, was attempting to explain the event.



@for each break with tradition, Your Highness, we honour the God of Wine and Celebration.' He seemed determined to explain the debauchery, else fearing that Vangelis would judge his fellow countrymen. Vangelis did not bother to explain that Colchis celebrated the Dionysa just as Taengea did. Their version of broken expectations, however, was not quite so... loud as the Taengeans’ preferences. Then again, that was Taengea all over. Loud and proud.



Vangelis rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck as he assessed the scene. Part of him had been more than willing to stay within his quarters, hidden away from the festivities until the docks reopened in the morning and he was permitted leave to return home. He had had no intention of staying for the event. His subordinates, however, had struggled to keep their pleasure hidden when it was revealed that the trader that they were journeying with would be spending the next twenty-four hours of the Dionysa heavily involved in the festival. And Vangelis was a leader of his men. He could not be seen to be hidden away at all times when social gatherings occurred. Nor would it appear polite for a visiting royal to refuse to attend a public event. His hands were tied and his feet condemned to take him to the centre of the city.



One thing that Vangelis could control, however, was how he approached the matter. There was little he could do about his height. At six foot two, Vangelis was always the tallest person in a crowd. There was little he could do besides slouch. And slouching only encouraged pour posture which then hindered flexibility when working the sword. He would not allow it. Instead, Vangelis was condemned to remain inches or feet above the heads of others, scaring away the smallest of the populace with each monstrous step. On the other hand, however, he could at least diminish his attire in a way that would deter staring.



For a royal, Vangelis should have probably been gowned in all his finery. Royal red chiton, gold embellishments, soft leather boots of the finest quality and a laurel crown about his temples. Instead, Vangelis had dressed down. He was not in disguise; he would admit to his identity should anyone ask or recognise him. But he was not about to flaunt his status. Those who would wish for him to attend would know who he was and recognise his attendance. Those who knew not who he might be did not need to.



He was dressed in a black tunic of fine but simple fabric, the hem hitting him mid-thigh. A tie about his waist kept the tunic in place despite him having stripped the upper half from his torso and allowing it to hang about his waist, brushing the backs of his knees. His feet were bound in black leather sandals, strapped to the knee and embossed with copper guards about the ankles. He wore no bracers, no under shirt and no armour. Naked from the waist up, Vangelis sported only a band of leather fastened around one thick wrist. Given the number of people in attendance at the event and the chances of thievery, Vangelis had left his rings and his necklace back at the palace. His throat felt empty and bare.



Giving little care for the state of his appearance, Vangelis shoved a hand back through his hair again, the thick, dark curls going wayward.



"I understand," he said, his voice low and rough. The little aide beside him practically jumped he was so surprised to finally have a reply. For a moment, Vangelis feared he had bitten off his own tongue in his haste to obey and listen. Especially as Vangelis had cut him off mid-sentence. "You may go now. I do not need guidance here."



This was true. Despite his lack of skill on a social level, he wouldn't listen to advice regardless which meant guidance became instantly moot. The little man seemed unsure, tempted to babble that he had been ordered to remain at Vangelis' side and aid him in anything he needed. The look in Vangelis' eyes, deep blue and piercing, seemed enough to shut him up and send him scuttling away.



Deciding that here was little point hovering in a single spot, Vangelis strolled into the crowd without issue. Given his size, people moved out of his way and hopped back to avoid the arms that swung at his side. He was armed, one of his swords at his hip and a long knife strapped to the side of one calf. Whether it was his weapons, his stature or the scowl upon his face that moved people out of his way, Vangelis wasn't sure.



As he scanned the area and looked about him, Vangelis attempted to understand the enjoyment others found in being drunken and boisterous. Never an avid drinker of wine, Vangelis only found himself growing sleepy when he drank. Instead, he caught a passing barrel carrier - the one to every ten that was holding water over wine) and cupped his hands beneath the surface. He drank from them, specks of cold attacking his chest when the water overflowed his makeshift cup. It was warm from the sun but refreshing all the same. Wiping his mouth and shaking the wet from his hands, Vangelis continued to move amongst the people before hearing a name called over and over.



Frowning, he followed the sound, spotting a dark-haired woman who paused at the edge of the fight ring. Despite her interest in the combat and the fact that she was no longer crying the word 'Kaia', Vangelis' honour saw him moving in her direction. As he came up behind her, looming over her left shoulder, Vangelis was careful to avoid the goat that meandered about her legs and spoke with care.



"You are looking for someone?" he asked.

“You could always leave, if you don't like the idea of being sold off like livestock. You deserve a chance to be happy with your life, as all people do. I can't see you being married off to some goat farmer in the middle of nowhere. You're too adventurous for something like that.”

Kaia gave a small smile at the compliment, though she couldn’t imagine ever leaving her family. She knew of course that she would need to one day, though it just did not seem imaginable. It had always been her father, uncles, Aea and her. The idea of being married off into some other life was strange too.

The mention of goat farmers made Kaia give a small chuckle as she shook her head at the memory. Aea would never let her live that memory down, even though Kaia didn’t think there had been anything wrong with the man.

“I can’t imagine not being with them,” Kaia admitted quietly. Not wanting the conversation to get too heavy too soon, Kaia gave a cheeky smirk and tilted her head to the side slightly, “perhaps my father has been trying to marry me off, but I keep scaring suitors away.”

It wasn’t the case, but she was curious to see his reaction. Actually, Kaia wouldn’t be surprised if she did scare suitors away should they approach her.

When Kaia thought of marriage, she initially thought of love. The idea was an attractive fairytale, but as Kaia understood it, not probable. If Kaia did get the luxury to have autonomy over her marriage decisions, and if love was not an option, then Kaia would only marry for power or status. That though, was just as fantastical an idea as marrying for love. What sort of higher-born man would ever marry her; a homeless, illiterate, hermit? In fact, marrying for love seemed more achievable, and Kaia doubted it happened terribly often.

If by some miracle, Agolois didn’t marry her off, or she did leave before then, Kaia was not opposed to the idea of life without a husband. She would perhaps like a child someday, but she was already commonborn, and a bastard herself—what would it matter if she had a bastard of her own?

“What do you think the gods have provided you to enjoy? What are your desires, needs, and wants for before you are married off? If you aren't afraid will you take what you want? Why don't you prove it?”

“Plenty of things,” Kaia began sweetly enough, “the thrill of the hunt for one. There is nothing like setting your sights on your target, tracking them, studying their body. Then inching ever closer and closer, your heartbeat rising to a point where nothing but the swift and blissful release of an arrow can bring you to satisfaction. That is one of the true treasures from the gods.”

Kaia couldn’t help but smirk as she spoke. She was enjoying the game that she and Alexandros were playing. It was a nice change from the usual grunts she got from the men that thought her easy prey.

“You need not worry about me, I am very good at getting what I want,” Kaia promised.

“And you separated to explore the festivities? Or did the rush of the crowd split you up?”

“The crowd,” Kaia admitted. “I do not think she would have gotten far. She has our goat with her,” Kaia thought aloud. The concern in Alexandros tone did not go unnoticed. It was a little humbling to know that despite their teasing, he was aware that finding Aea was important to her.

“Should we go and look for this cousin of yours?”

Kaia gave a nod. “I think that would be best. I am sure she has found her own entertainment, but I would still like to be sure,” Kaia agreed. She did hope Alexandros wouldn’t be deterred. No doubt he wasn’t counting on going on a search mission for a stanger’s cousin. However, once Kaia knew Aea was okay, there was no reason they couldn’t continue to get acquainted.

As the conversation shifted to weaponry and sparring, Kaia was pleased to have a common interest to discuss. She had no doubts that Alexandros would be the superior fighter, he was a trained officer after all. However, Kaia was very confident that she would surprise him in a fight. She wondered how much an officer had to fight with honor. Kaia and her family were lucky in that they only had to fight to live. There was no room for honor when her livelihood depended on it.

“I will promise not to seriously injure you, if that means that I need to give my all then so be it. I rarely get a chance to cut loose when I train.”

“I’ll make the same promise,” Kaia teased. At the mention of him cutting loose, Kaia’s mind painted a rather enjoyable picture of Alexandros fighting. She could see his body taunt with exertion and knew that it would be quite the sight to see in person.

“Seeing as I need a refill of my own and the rest of the group has left us, we may as well move on. Do you have some place in mind?”

Kaia nibbled on her bottom lip as she looked out towards the direction where the woman had given her announcement only moments before. The sea of bodies in various states of undress seemed endless. No doubt Aea was in that sea somewhere, lugging their poor goat with her.

“Maybe that way,” Kaia nodded her head towards the crowd. There seemed to be some sort of gathering or contest, given how the swarm of people seemed thickest there. Kaia tried to think what Aea would do when unintentionally separated and knew that if the opportunity should show itself for Aea to make—or steal— a few coins, she’d take it. A thick, distracted crowd like that, there was every chance Aea was lifting a few coin purses.

Kaia took Alexandros’ arm and was not disappointed by how firm it was. She’d never truly appreciated arms enough it seemed, but now she most certainly did.

“So we spoke about my marriage possibilities,” Kaia began as they walked. “What of yours?” Kaia truly did not know what expectations a military officer had in terms of marriage.

“You are looking for someone?”
Aea looked over her shoulder when she heard a man’s voice somewhere behind her, then blinked when she realized the man was directly at her shoulder. Her eyes flicked to his face. The sun blazed behind him, but he blotted it out by the sheer magnitude of his height.

He must be at least a hand taller than her own imposing father, his shoulders a good deal wider. Certainly he was substantially more handsome, young, and clean. She wasn’t rude enough to eye anything below his neck to decide whether he was a soldier or not. For a moment, the question of why he was speaking to her settled into her mind, but that was a stupid inquiry—he’d heard her calling for Kaia just a bit before, surely. Why it piqued him was another mystery entirely. She supposed it didn’t matter, really.

“Yes, my cousin.” She nudged Kelosi forward and the goat ambled lazily to stand in front of her, making room for the man to stand abreast so he didn’t have to crane his neck to speak. “She left when we entered the city. I don't know where to.”

She glanced back at the fight. One of the women was still wearing her shoes, so she supposed that explained why the match wasn’t over. It would be soon, and then Aea could have her turn. A thought occurred to her suddenly, a rather brilliant one. Never one to waste an opportunity, Aea latched onto the idea and turned it over in her mind to consider all the benefits of such a design.

If this man was here to play a match, then there was no reason he could not fight her. He was significantly larger, and a good deal older, which meant that people would bet heavily against Aea winning. The crowd looked to be wagering in obols, but a promise of a set match meant the owls would come out. The man would probably assume he would win as well, which meant that he would not move with any seriousness, which meant that Aea could take him by surprise and win. Then, when she won, she could go buy some food and continue her search for her cousin.

There was a small voice in the back of her head wondering if Kaia had left her for a purpose. They had not argued recently, and the blonde had no friends. Still, Aea would be lying to herself if she claimed that there would be no reason to leave her in a rush. Kaia liked to drink herself to drunkenness when she was merry. Aea was, by contrast, not so able to keep up when wine was introduced. Her head for alcohol was quite weak, and half a cup of wine could send her into a drunken state where everything sounded like a good idea. That was usually shortly before she fell fast asleep. If Kaia had left her because she wanted to have a good time, then perhaps Aea should leave the matter be. Still, she would like to find her, if just to check on her. Aea couldn’t very well go home without her.

If only she were as tall as the man who’d addressed her, she could simply turn her head and spot Kaia from a league away. As it was, she was on the inconvenient end of the height spectrum, and though she’d met women much shorter than herself, she still had to hop to see over a crowd. Another idea occurred to her, more ingenious than the last. She may not be tall enough to see over the crowd, but the man was. She could win money for food and find Kaia with his assistance all at once.

Aea eyed the man’s shoes from her peripheral, but they were as black as his tunic. She quite liked his outfit, but it was an inconvenient color in assessing how poor or rich he was. There was a copper guard about his ankles, but she had not a clue what that meant, nor did she know if copper was particularly expensive. Obals were made of copper, and obals were worth much less than all money, so perhaps it was not a marker of anything at all. His face and mussed curls were without dirt or mar, which was odd given his impressive physique—clearly he was a soldier or an athlete, though she leaned more toward soldier given the sword at his hip. However, a pretty soldier was quite the juxtaposition.

Her father wasn’t a pretty soldier. Well, he wasn’t a pretty former soldier. His nose sustained an old break, his cheeks were spattered with old burns from battle pitch, and his legs were freckled with all manner of scarring. If this man was a soldier, then he was either a very bad one or a very good one. She would try her luck in any case. If she failed, she had nothing to lose but her clothes. If he lost, she had everything to gain. Not that she would lose, but the possibility was there all the same.

The man was only wearing a tunic and shoes, and assumedly undergarments. That was three rounds. By contrast, only Aea’s legs and eyes were visible through the five items upon her person. Even if she lost thrice, she still would not be naked.

“You are a warrior,” she noted, flicking her eyes to the fighting pit then back to him, “and I am feeling lucky today. How about a wager?”

While she waited for his answer, she turned to the woman from before who was now standing a bit further away and practically leaning aside. For a moment Aea questioned her scent again, but she’d already checked earlier and knew she didn’t smell like anything but the clean, grassy valley. Perhaps it was Kelosi. It seemed unlikely given that the goat had gotten a bath two days prior. Maybe it was something physically on Aea’s person. She banished the thought quickly lest it take the forefront of her mind and distract her with embarrassment. Win first, inspect herself later.

Aea leaned over and tapped the woman as she did before, “Excuse me. Can you hold my goat? I promise she won’t give you any trouble.”

The woman eyed her, eyed the man, eyed the goat, and for a moment didn’t say anything. Aea held up her rope, “I’ll pay you when I win.”

Still the woman did not say anything. But then, gradually, she moved to take the rope and Kelosi sighed before dragging herself over to the woman. Her goat attended to, Aea turned back to the man.

“Fight three rounds with me. Best two against one. If I win the match, you let me sit on your shoulders so I may find my cousin. If you win, you let me sit on your shoulders so I may find my cousin, and I will introduce you to her.”

The crowd let out a collective cheer. The woman who’d retained her shoes had pinned the other woman to the ground with the wrapped tip of her sword.

A mischievous smile spread under Aea’s epiblema and crinkled her eyes. “I would take the chance if I were you—there’s winnings to be had, and my cousin is incredibly beautiful.”

Aea’s hand crept upon her shoulder and she nudged her bird from the perch he stubbornly clung to. His digits sunk into her chlamys, but he let go when she nudged him again, flying high over the crowd to surely settle upon some tree branch and wait for her. Or, namely, wait for the food she would be getting with her winnings.

Kaia was going to throttle Aea if she did not win, but Kaia’s job was to do the face-thing, so she was used to it by now. Besides, this one was actually pretty, so the blonde would appreciate not having to endure the lecherous stares of the portly and sweat-stained gentlemen of the lower quarters.

Regardless of whether the man took her challenge, Aea stepped into the ring. She unwrapped her epiblema from around her face and arranged it over her head, tying the length of it around her long black hair to keep it all out of her face. She parted her hide chlamys enough to withdraw all six of the daggers sheathed between the ropes that held her tunic. The ringmaster, a weathered old woman with few teeth and a great amount of grey hair, wordlessly took them.

Aea kept her chin up and her face impassive in the hopes that she looked expectant enough that the ringmaster wouldn’t impose any particular rules. Gods, she hoped the woman wouldn’t tell her that it was swords only, or she could only have one dagger. If either were set standards, Aea would absolutely lose, and quickly.

“No killing.” The ringmaster barked, handing back each of Aea’s blades. They were struck with a thick wax tipping almost as fat as the blade width itself.

Thank fuck. Aea gave the woman a twitch of a smile and slid each blade back into the depths of her chlamys, but the woman did not smile back. Aea thought nothing of it, used to the blank expressions she received when smiling at her father or Uncle Dasmo. She unslung her laurel longbow and quiver, handing them off to the ringmaster wordlessly.

With the promise of a fight looming, her heart rate picked up. Soon she would be in a place of familiarity, far away from this strange festival. The grass beneath her feet twisted as she turned on her heel to look at the man from across the ring.

There were three points to take in and seconds to do it when facing an opponent. His chest was bare. His hips were slung with a single sword. His legs were armed with an off-hand long knife. She wasn’t worried about the sword, but that knife would be an issue. Aea looked back at his face and got into stance, keeping her eyes on his least she gave away her strategy.

Knees bent, feet apart, hip twisted ever so slightly, left elbow in to acutely angle her dagger up, right elbow in-line with her ear to hold her second blade horizontal and as high as her brow. She’d never fought a soldier besides her father and uncle before. If the man elected to take her challenge, it would be like fighting Kaia—enjoyable rather than serious practice with a real chance of injury. One thing was certain—if he accepted, she would have fun besting him from one side of the ring to the other.

“Oh? And you’re an expert on my fire?”

Alexandros laughed at the question, it was certainly a fair response to his own words. He smiled back at her before he began to speak. “I can’t say that I am an expert in the fire that resides within you, but I might would like to learn. The evening is young, perhaps you can show me all there is to know about your fire, and the desires that dwell behind those lovely stormy eyes of yours. You are by far the most interesting person I have met in Taengea, and I would hate to see our time cut short.”

“For one, more wine,” Kaia raised her cup again. “Then, to find my cousin. After that, well it depends on what takes my fancy,”

He nodded along in agreement as she spoke and then his lips curled once more into a smirk at the close of her words. “Of course, wine and finding your cousin are the most important things to do, the order might be negotiable though.” He smiled playfully with that remark. “I wonder what might take the fancy of such a unique woman on a night such as this. If, by chance, some young man did, the perhaps he would be the most fortunate man in attendance. Don’t you think my dear Kaia?”

As they finally found a barrel of wine and filled their cups, Alexandros had come up with another question for her, one that related back to what she had asked him. “Why do you ask of my own prospects hmm? Don’t tell me you intend to introduce me to your father on the morrow?” He laughed teasingly at his own joke. “But on a more serious note, if you had the chance to choose your husband, with no interference from your family, what would you look for? What is your ideal husband like? If you do not wish to answer or need to put some thought to it, the please do so. My curiosity has gotten the better of me, and I want to know all there is to know about you.”

“Festivals with free wine will always be my favourite from now on,”

The young Captain drank deeply from his own cup before refilling it again. He could feel the alcohol beginning to affect his mind as he reached a respectable level of buzzed. He smiled warmly at Kaia before responding. “Free wine, women unafraid to dress provocatively, and meeting you will let this Dionysa go down as the best in my life, even if I live to see over a hundred more of them.”

Alexandros caught sight of a group of people surrounding a makeshift ring. As the crowd thinned, he could barely make out a goat, but he was unsure if it was the right one. There was also a man who was taller than the rest by far standing near the ring who looked terribly familiar, but seeing the back of his head only was not enough to identify him. “Kaia, I think I see a goat over there by that ring, think Aea might be there? I don’t know what they are doing, but at least a goat is something to investigate.” He spoke with genuine concern for finding the cousin, and hoped that what he could see would help lead them to the girl.

”Am I now?” Kaia asked with playfully fake sweetness. “How many others have you met with so far? I don’t see any reason for our night to end just yet,”

Alexandros began to count as best he could in his head the number of people he had at least conversed with during his short stay in this kingdom. He soon gave up and just guessed in order to continue the conversation. “Several dozen, mostly soldiers and politicians. None seemed to be very fascinating, most were just speaking because I came in the envoy with the Prince. They wanted to get closer to my boss than to me. Perhaps you understand what it is like to be used as a tool to try and reach something else, to be stepped on and over at the nearest point of convenience and then left behind, forgotten. It is a predicament that I hate with every fiber of my being.” He took a moment to breathe before he continued. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have let that get the better of me. I’m sure you don’t want to hear me ramble on about some radical change that I would like to see.”

“Oh no, not at all, not unless you have at least three goats to trade for me,”

He laughed at her remark and then gave her a mischievous smirk. “If 3 goats is the price, then perhaps you should introduce me. That would be the steal of the decade, and I think I could arrange for the purchase of the goats in order to trade. Only if that is something you would want though.” He said teasingly. “I’d hate to end up with a wife who hated me, just as I’m sure you’d hate to have a husband who saw you as only good for breeding.”

“I’m not too sure,” Kaia began, frowning slightly in thought. “Kind, faithful. Someone who could challenge me.”
“I’m not too sure there’s much more to learn about me,”

He was not terribly surprised by the response, or the time she needed to give it. “I’m sure that’s not a question you’ve pondered very much, since you are at the whims of your father. I suppose I am very fortunate to be free of such controlling forces in my life, to be allowed to make important decisions like marriage on my own. Though how it ended up this way was anything but. As for your thoughts, I think kind, faithful, and being able to challenge you is the least of what you deserve, but certainly a good starting point. What sorts of challenges do you expect from your spouse?” He asked with a smirk. “Oh come now, we’re just getting started, neither of us knows anything about the other, don’t sell yourself short in some feigned humility. There has to be much more below the surface.”

“You’re too kind,” Kaia joked with a sideways glance. He was laying it on thick now. Kaia sipped at her wine again. “How many others have you told the same thing?”

He clutched his chest, feigning indignation. “You doubt my sincerity? I’m gravely wounded by your words.” He said with a laugh. “I’ve never said those exact words to anyone but you. I have given the same sentiment to many a young lady, I’m afraid that I could not count them all. Certain ones were far more memorable than others, and tonight is shaping up as the most memorable of all.”

“That is our goat, but that is not my cousin holding her,”
“That is her, she’s about to fight,”

Alexandros was glad that the goat had been located, that gave them a much better lead on finding the cousin. As they neared the ring, he finally recognized the man that stood so much taller than the rest. He watched as the girl in the ring, who was now identified as Kaia’s cousin prepared to fight and the bets were being placed on the Prince. “By the gods, I hope she didn’t bet the goat or much of her money. She does stand a chance against him. Does she know who she has just challenged? This is not a good situation, Kaia.” He said with serious concern in his voice. Even with tipped weapons, or no weapons, the prince would have no problem inflicting serious injuries on the girl.

In the years that the god's had blessed Eirini with, she had beholden a fair few celebrations of the Dionysa. It was a festival that had always held quite the fascination for the woman, even prior to her years of luxury, when she had not been allowed to attend by her father – though it had not stopped him from attending. Locked away in the back of the house with her mother, her ears would hone in on those passing, their laughter and joy palpable and her mind would wander towards the delectable delights that were occurring just beyond the walls of their prison.

The first Dionysa she had participated in had been not long after her mother’s death and her father’s abandonment. She had been working at the tavern and had ventured out into the streets with a couple of the girls she worked with. It had been a wondrous evening to watch the women of Taengea become unshackled, to embrace the parts of their femininity that men often deemed unsavoury for women to exhibit – at least in the ones they did not look upon as whores anyway.

Yet, it was the same old story year after year, the sun would rise upon a new day and those same women who had, only hours before, been liberated in sensual pleasure and veracious appetites retreated back to their households, back to domesticity and submissive situations. Eirini had loathed that part more than anything.

Then Eirini had married a man far above her station, one who was powerful and wealthy, and whose ambitions became her own in a partnership that everyone would envy if they ever learned of its true depths of devotion and depravity. She had once feared marriage, deemed it to be a loathsome institution that offered a woman one thing, security – and even that could be fleeting. For Eirini, however, marriage itself had become her liberator and events like the Dionysa became trivial to her. This was not freedom, for freedom should not be a temporary concept ¬and nothing a woman could do in the world was ever inconsequential. That wasn’t to say that she didn’t still enjoy the festival, on the contrary, it was one of her most eagerly anticipated events of the year. Because as her husband voiced, “The Dionysa always produces loose lips and quick tongues. It will perhaps be of use, in more ways than one.”

Up to that point, Eirini had spent most of the sojourn into the city with one hand curled around a hand-mirror and the other making final tweaks to her appearance. Her smirk matched Fotios’ as she finally set down the mirror on the cushion beside her, and set her attention fully upon him. “yes, I’ve never known what I’ve enjoyed more about the dionysa… the secrets or the cunnilingus.” Her foot lightly tapped at his ankle as the carriage gently swayed over the cobblestones, their journey slowed by the revelry upon the streets.

“What about you, husband? Which fair maiden shall have her lips around your cock by nights end?” A shaped brow arched and her lips turned upwards in a teasing smirk, the wicked glimmer in her hazel eyes would not swiftly simmer. For a couple like Fotios and Eirini, the Dionysa could be a source of great amusement.

Eirini herself had certainly dressed the part for the evening’s entertainment. Usually styled in elaborate braids, her raven waves were free to cascade in their onyx glory, styled only with whispers of golden thread spun into the strands and would glimmer by sun or candle light. Golden powder brushed outwards from the corner of her bronzed eyes drew attention to the pools of honey that were often overlooked by her full lips, though they too were emphasised by the shade of red she favoured so much. There were no diamonds or other precious jewels upon her that day, some may have even called her choice of jewellery simple, but anyone with an ounce of taste or class would have been able to see the quality in the accessories that she did wear. From her ears hung intricately carved golden medallions, and curling around her upper arms were golden snakes, then upon her slender digits a multitude of different rings, one of which bearing the Leventi sigil. Perhaps they were not her finest pieces, but why wear that which she would fuss over the loosing of.

Though it was unlikely that many would be taking note of her choice of accessories, not when she had dressed the way she had. The sheer material of her chiton left very little to the imagination; her breasts were barely concealed by a few ruffles in the fabric as it coursed over her shoulder, wrapping around her slender neck and trailing behind her like and embroidered shawl. The fabric was clasped at her hip by a golden broach that layered the material down the parting of her legs, as much as sheer material could anyway. From the bangles around her upper arms, the same material flowed to create deep sleeves that were embroidered with gold all around the cuff.

She felt divine and she was ready to be worshipped.

The carriage soon came to a halt and the couple quickly departed. Eirini’s eyes quickly surveyed the crowed, politely inclining her head towards those she recognised. It was not long before her gaze fell upon the princess Gianna and leaning into her husband, she whispered “we should go greet her, my love, and perhaps keep a watchful eye on her this eve. she certainly is not dressed for a quiet evening.”

She’d taken position a thousand thousand times in her life. Over a decade of her father barking for her to ready herself when he was bored or in a mood, a decade of settling disagreements with her cousin and uncles with a grapple, a decade of slinging elbows and fists, of stabbing and parrying and ducking and disarming. Her body sunk into stance and her muscles molded and loosened, her fingers coiled like cobras around the thick steel handle in her right hand, and the wooden in her left.

The air was sweet with wine and sweat, the sun beating down and spreading its life-giving warmth. There was laugher and merry shouts on the wind, the thump of feet shivering through the ground. And yet, the man’s wide shoulders lifted and sagged in a sigh, as if unfazed by the life spinning around him.

He unbuckled his belt. Aea didn’t know what in Hades he was doing, or why he seemed so put-upon. This was fun, and she offered him a good wager that wouldn’t inconvenience him when he lost, and he didn’t look like he was occupied with anything but the match earlier. Perhaps he had other matters to attend, and she’d interrupted him? If that were the case, he certainly didn’t say as much.

When he handed his sword off to a guard, she frowned and watched the exchange. Suddenly, her entire plan was ground to dust and scattered on the wind. She could have easily beaten him with blades. If he had a sword, she could disarm and distract, she could use the length of his weapon against him. With fists, he could just grab her and crack her in half.

Maybe he wanted to, just so he could take his winnings quickly. She would be introducing her cousin half-dead, then. No, no, she could do this. Anything was possible, she just had to tilt the probability back in her favor. She stayed in her stance, her eyes tracking his movements. He walked with an assured, concentrated grace that was less predatory and more unabashedly competent. Such confidence. Well, she was confident of her chances too.

She sent a silent prayer to Ares, promising him a sacrifice such as she’d never sacrificed before. She prayed to Athena, offering her equal to what she gave Ares. She prayed to Hades, Apollo, Hermes, and then, she didn’t know why, but she prayed to Hecate too.

Then she prayed to herself, her eyes moving from the man to the rest of her surroundings. There were more people around the ring now than before. They held cups, wore bright garments of all sorts of colors, armed themselves with blades and bows. There was a woman with a sword slung round her hips only steps away, the hilt tied with yellow cloth. Not too far from her was an older man painted with makeup, an old red epiblema draped around his shoulders. Across the ring, close to her opponent, was a tall and beautiful woman with a small bolt of red cloth tied around her hips, but not much else.

Her eyes wandered back to the large man, analyzing him at a distance. She could find no immediate fault or injury with him, but that might change when he started moving. He would not be as flexible as she. He would not fit into small spaces as she. He would not be so quick to change direction or lunge as she. He may be older, he may be larger, he may be stronger, but there was something to be said about a keen and creative mind, a high pain tolerance, and an empty stomach when the promise of money was afoot.
She could do this.

The man’s chest moved abruptly with a breath as he fiddled with a leather band encircling his wrist. He didn’t look pleased. It was, oddly, a little amusing. There was an irritation to his entire countenance, but it was not true irritation—the kind that was unleashed with real vehemence. The man did not seem like he had a desire to beat her with a tree limb or otherwise make her bleed. No toothy smile, no fixated fury, no tightly clenched fist. He seemed rather harmless. Large with a penchant for frowning, but harmless. Irritated, but in such a way that she did not feel the need to flinch away, but perhaps it was tempting to needle him a bit more just to test him.

“Sir! We need your blade.”

Aea’s eyes flicked to his off-hand knife.

“What?”

“We need to dull the tip of your blade.”

The man shook his head. “I won't be using it.”

Aea kept from smiling, but only just. She was glad he would be keeping that on him.

The man settled across the ring and checked his feet before getting into stance. A defensive one. An inconvenient one. She was quite hoping he’d be like most of the men in her family and simply rush her. Perhaps he wanted to test her, perhaps he was just going to flick her off like a flea.

Or so he assumed.

He shrugged one large shoulder and beckoned her to come and attack. He would regret such an invitation when he was face-first in the grass with a forearm around his neck. One thing was certain, she was not going to take advantage of an opponent in a public competition. Besides, daggers were no use against a large man with fists if she was not allowed to kill him.

Aea sighed and stood straight, her expression more mirthful than truly disappointed. “Fine, mister. We'll have it your way. I'll not lay blades on an unarmed opponent.”

She tucked her daggers back into the depths of her large chlamys. While her hands were inside of the buckskin, she unknotted one of the two ropes holding her old tunic to her body. Aea wrapped the rope around her left wrist and tucked the tail into the coils. She moved around the ring, keeping her eyes on him in case his countenance swung wildly and he charged her like an angry boar.

As she got closer and closer, he didn’t seem any more likely to come at her with swinging fists than he did moments before. It reassured her, and the excitement she felt before was allowed more room to grow. Wordlessly, she stopped next to the woman with the rag-wrapped sword. Aea’s fingers undid the loose yellow flag wrapped about the hilt. The woman glanced down, but there was no protest or request to stop.

Yellow cloth in hand, Aea strode to the man in the red epiblema and tugged it from his shoulders. He stiffened but quickly released his old rag of a thing. Drunk or curious of what was to come, she knew not.

Aea sent another prayer to Hermes for good luck.

She supposed that even if the man did attack her now rather than wait in defense for her first move, she would at least see what his limits were. He was sorely mistaken if he thought she wouldn’t grapple him and get in a good shot between the legs. Just because she wouldn’t use her blades on an unarmed man in public didn’t mean she wouldn’t kick his balls into his stomach or bite him right in the ass to get out of an arm bar.

Finally, she made her way to the man, testing his reach by stopping just inside of it. She rounded him like a cat testing a half-dead mouse, keeping her left side facing him. She glanced at the tall woman who was leaning heavily against another woman. Aea hoped she had undergarments on.

The woman, who’d been eyeing the man’s shoulders like she was going to eat them, caught Aea’s gaze and seemed eager to depart from the red thing she wore. She untied it and tossed it, Aea caught it, and now she was at the man’s side, knotting all three colors together in a braid, red-yellow-red, never once touching her opponent, nor he touching her as she rounded him completely to face his front.

There were small scars along his skin. No whip marks on his back, no old brand of slavery, but faded cuts neath his elbows and a few more scattered about, easy to miss when one was taking the whole of him in, but obvious at such a close range. She had scars too. Small, old, and mostly from fights where she was allowed to defend herself, but they were there. Her father did not bleed her for sport, preferring her to stay as unmarred as possible despite being unable to look at her most days, but sometimes they were unavoidable. She could see the difference between her skin and the man’s, though. There were years of battles along his flesh, and hers was nearly a fresh canvas.

She finished her braid and pushed it into her chlamys, tucking it into the rope cinching her waist. She still had two immediate tricks up her sleeve for the next round, then plans Δ, Ε, and Ζ for the third. For now, she’d assess how willing he was to break her like a twig, for her certainly didn’t seem aggressive. And to assess, she didn’t need a trick. The man was a good swordsman, she decided. Able to stay pretty despite seeing multiple battles. And what did she know of large, good swordsmen?

Well, they certainly didn’t default to using their bottom half first.

Aea suddenly dropped to the ground and dove between his long legs. She moved like the strike of a whip, slinging her elbow back and carrying the momentum with her full weight. She cracked him around the knee. It gave, just a little, but enough for his body to move toward the ground. She pivoted in her crouch, her legs twisting underneath her like ribbons, and lunged upward.

His body came down, she came up, and when his shoulders hunched and his height diminished, she jumped and locked her legs around his hips, scrambling for purchase on his back with one arm about his neck, her hand clutched to her own bicep and the other pressed against the back of his skull. She squeezed her elbows together and locked her ankles, baring her teeth with the effort.

One.

“Ten seconds,” she huffed, her breath quickening and her pulse racing. She pushed her head against her own arm and pressed into the crank. “Yield before I put you to sleep.”

Three.

Aea kept herself locked tight around the man, giving no quarter and no mercy. Her body was so shot with adrenaline and butterflies she could only feel the dull ache of straining muscles. She crinkled her nose, giving his neck one final crank. He could go backwards and crush her to the ground, but she had no doubt he’d be asleep long before she lost her last meal or felt anything besides the rush of adrenaline.

Pain would come later, when her blood wasn’t up. It always did. She could hold out for a bit. And besides...he hadn’t done a single thing to harm her, so she doubted he was going to start now. She could count on his inaction for this round. She didn’t know if it was because he didn’t want to hurt her, or if he didn’t think he needed to, but she did intuitively know that he was underestimating her, and that was a mistake. Never one to waste an opportunity, his mistake would be her gain.

She hoped she had his fucking attention now.