She had arrived in Athenia only a day before the event, and had spent the majority of that day in slumber while her handmaidens set to work unpacking her things in the lavish guest chamber the Marikas had provided her. Her hosts had been more than gracious, granting her a palatial room with a spectacular view of their sumptuous gardens. Their own servants had tended personally to her that day, feeding her little and often until she once more acclimated to the land. Although she travelled often for events, it had always been difficult for the Lady to transition smoothly between land and sea, and so a quiet period of respite was needed when first she set foot on land, and on the shaking planks of a ship, in order to smooth the transition.

But that period was done now and a new day had dawned. Apollo seemed to have blessed this day with a fiery orb of gold that nestled like a crown jewel upon a tuft of soft, white clouds. The sky was a brilliant blue and the song of exotic birds filled the air. Blinking away sleep, she sat up in the four-poster bed and pulled the cord that would summon her attendants, who had been proved with an adjacent chamber.

They came at once -- Thisbe, Aoide, Aglaia and Evanthe -- bright-eyed and eager to sample the delights of the of the festival. Ophelia's gaze lingered momentarily on the golden-haired angel, hair tousled slightly from sleep, before skipping away to land on Aglaia.
"We shall all eat breakfast, and then prepare to venture out to the festival," she stated. "I believe they should have something prepared for us by now. Aglaia, go down to the kitchens and enquire after a meal. Evanthe, kindly choose appropriate clothing for yourself and the other handmaidens," she smiled brightly at the other woman as she spoke, clearly communicating that by 'appropriate' she meant 'the prettiest things you all own.' Understanding this, Evanthe returned the secret smile and disappeared once more into the adjacent chamber, while Aglaia slipped off to perform her own task.

As Ophelia's things had already been unpacked for her, she decided to choose her own outfit, with the assistance of Thisbe and Aoide. After shifting some clothes around, she eventually settled upon a peplos that began in a shade of the palest blue, only to dip down into a burst of colour -- emerald, amber, canary cyan. To match, she selected jewelled fibulae in the shape of peacocks, their stones matching the vibrant hues of her gown, and a thin shawl of feathers in various shades of blue. Even the sandals she selected were encrusted with tiny sapphires.

Two trays were brought to them now, carried by attendants with Aglaia trailing behind them. One was set on a table for the handmaidens, the other placed before the Condos Rose. The handmaids were provided with some of the leftovers from the previous day's meal. Nothing was rotten or sour. The meat was still juicy and tender, the fruit still fresh and sweet. Ophelia, however, as the guest of honour, was served sweet pastries, fresh fruit, a single goose egg and a hunk of cheese. The girls talked as they ate, speculating on what they might buy and who they might encounter.
"I wonder when it is that we shall see The Lady Rene's family," Aoide piped up. "I am most anxious to meet this accomplished elder sister of hers."
"Rene is perfectly accomplished in her own right," countered Evanthe. The younger handmaid flushed, averting her eyes.
"I only meant in a courtly manner. I have great respect for Lady Rene's artistic gifts," the former murmured softly.
"I will admit, I am curious to meet her also; I am curious to meet them all," Ophelia mused, biting into the soft, pale cheese, which she took with a grape. "But I doubt we will today. Rene will be there, though."

"Rene will be there..." she whispered these words to herself as her handmaidens set about preparing her for the day ahead. When last she had seen Rene, she had faltered. She had meant to tell all, but something had prevented her. Perhaps it was the innocent, trusting way the girl gazed upon her, as if she could do no wrong. Ophelia had to admit that the very notion of being knocked from her invisible pedestal was a sickening one, for Rene's adulation was almost like a drug to her. The girl believed that she was a Saint, and so she strove to live up to that image, doing all that she could to prove to her friend that this notion was not misplaced. Should Rene lose faith in her, she feared that she would lose faith in herself. She knew, of course, that this was silly -- she had done many good works before her introduction to the young Nikolaos. But since meeting her, she had done so much more. Rene believed in her, thus she believed in herself. If Rene stopped believing that she was a person worthy of love, would she too believe it? And if she believed it, would Evanthe?

She barely noticed as she was scrubbed of the grime of the ocean. She had not had the opportunity of a proper wash while at sea, so her handmaidens were forced to use more force than they necessarily would to scrub a thin layer of salt and sweat from her skin. They moisturised perfumed oil into every inch of her, cleaning her of the reek of the ocean and leaving only the sweet smell of the flower that graced her house's sigil in its place. All the while, she fixed her eyes at a point on the wall, but saw beyond space and time, her thoughts whirling chaotically between Evanthe and Rene.

"My Lady, are you well?" Eva inquired gently, snapping her out of her thoughts. She felt Evanthe's warm hand close upon her shoulder as she was led to sit upon a stool. Ophelia blinked, locking eyes with her dearest love.
"I have a lot on my mind, I suppose," she whispered back.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Ophelia cast a furtive glance around the room.
"Not...here," she whispered back.
Evanthe understood immediately. Whatever this was, it was a private matter, not a thing for the likes of Aoide and Aglaia to overhear. It was a secret to be kept between them. She lowered a single lash to convey comprehension, then set about lightly dusting Ophelia's cheeks with a powder of crushed pearl, so that her mistress's skin appeared to possess a natural glow.

This done, her lustrous locks were carefully combed by Thisbe, who pinned a pale blue veil embellished with golden beads to the back of her head, completing the look. Her handmaidens were dressed more simply -- Aglaia in a peplos of gold, Aoide in pale violet, Thisbe in green with a veil to cover all of her hair, rather than most of it as Ophelia had opted to do, and Evanthe in a stunning sapphire blue that brought out the gold of her locks and the brown of her eyes.

Those eyes haunted her as they made their way down the spiral staircase towards the first floor. Though Ophelia preceded her handmaidens, she could feel their watchful staire upon her, trying to guess at what might be the matter. Evanthe had no idea that at the very moment, a jewelry box was concealed among the great Lady's possessions, a token of her deepest affection concealed within. Before they sailed away, she would somehow pluck up the courage to present that token to her dearest one, along with a humble confession of her deep and true affection. Today, however, she had vowed to speak of this affection to Rene, and pray that her dear artisan did not shun her for what she planned to confess to Evanthe.

Upon exiting the palatial estate, they found Ophelia's faithful guards awaiting them, as well as a stately carriage that proudly waved the flags of both Marikas and Condos. The driver approached immediately and sank into a formal obeisance, placing a set of golden steps before the vessel and assisting the ladies in one by one. Immediately, Ophelia drew back the silken curtain so that her handmaids could revel in the glory of the perfect Summer day and the picturesque Athenian scenery, and she could lose herself in thought once more.

The journey seemed to fly by. Dimly, she was aware of the excitable chatter going on around her, and thought perhaps she ought to join in. As she felt the carriage slow, she roused herself and blinked, making an effort to truly see what was before her. The Athenian capitol was decked out in a most artistic fashion. She was most fascinated by the bones, which she recognized vaguely as having some connection to psychic readings. Wind chimes swayed in a breeze that barely blew, their notes echoing like a welcome through the streets. People dressed in all types of clothing were running hither and thither, blurring together beneath the sun.

"So many stalls..." Aglaia breathed, causing Ophelia to genuinely smile for the first time that day. Yes, there were many stalls; an entire Wonderland for them to explore. Before she could respond, the carriage drew to a halt and the door opened once again. The driver held out his earthy hand, helping first her handmaidens, then the White Rose herself, to descend from the vehicle. She thanked him graciously, then gave instruction to her guards to keep several paces behind while keeping the girls in their sight.

"You may all walk with me until I find the Lady Rene," she offered graciously. She wanted to tell Evanthe that she could stay even after Rene had been found, but there was a private conversation she needed to have with Rene today, and it was not for Eva's ears. Aglaia thanked her profusely, as did Aoide. Evanthe simply smiled, while Thisbe gave a dignified nod. Having made herself clear, she began to move among the throng with her maidens, her guards trailing at a respectful distance.

The tang of a thousand spices filled the air. Some blended well, other sid not, but Ophelia could easily distinguish what the closest were. Nearby, she spied a stall selling incense, and was just about to head towards it when Aglaia cried out with glee.
"Mistress, there is your sweet artisan!"

She flicked her eyes immediately in the direction that Aglaia had indicated. Sure enough, Rene was alighting from a magnificent carriage that flew the banners of House Nikolaos and Xanthos, the proud image of a swan snapping gently in the breeze. She beckoned to her maidens to follow as she drew closer, her eyes trailed on the auran-haired beauty and a rather handsome man she assumed to be her father. The man was holding out a little box of coins to her, but Rene quickly produced her own, her face beaming with pride. Ophelia giggled softly as she heard the girl explain that she had brought her own commission money. OF course she was. That was Rene -- sweet, yes, but fiercely independent.

'That is commendable, daughter. But humor a father, just this once, since you have refused any escort.'
Despite wishing to meet this man, Ophelia was privately relieved that Rene had refused escort. She still had her attendants, after all, and Ophelia longed to speak with her in secret. Had her father been around, she would have been forced to charge one of her handmaidens with his distraction, which might not have been well received, given the fact that he was a happily married man.
'Okay, but I shall procure some nice spices for the kitchens then,' Ophelia watched as her friend accepted the bag of drachmae. In response, her father extended a hand, a gesture she reciprocated.
'Lady Rene,' the man murmured with a smile, ghosting his lips against his daughter's alabaster palm.
'Lord Dastros,' Rene intoned in return, her delicate form bending into an elegant curtsy.

As she observed them, a sharp stab of pain suddenly sliced through her heart. Only after the fact did she realize that it was envy she felt. She envied this dear girl the bond she shared with her father, for never had Ophelia known such closeness with her parents, nor would she. To them she was an asset, a commodity, but not a treasure. Lord Condos would never look at her in the same loving way as Lord Dastros gazed upon his daughter -- as if she taught the sun to shine.

As if sensing her thoughts, Evanthe reached over and gave her hand a quick, gentle squeeze, bringing her back to herself. Ophelia cast a grateful look at her handmaid, then inhaled deeply. It was not right to envy REne. She ought to be happy that the girl came from such a loving household. Deep down, she was; it was just difficult to see such a beautiful scene unfold and know that such a thing could never be hers.

The man was bidding her farewell now. The carriage door was closing, and both were waving energetically. Ophelia watched as the vehicle sped away, leaving Rene bathed in sunlight. Having not noticed Ophelia standing in the shade, the girl began to walk towards the stalls. Ophelia hastened to catch up with her, her handmaidens now falling behind.

"Rene!" she called, hoping to catch her attention. "Rene, wait! I-I saw you arriving, I hope you do not mind. I wished not to interrupt your farewell with your father," having caught up to the girl, she gently squeezed her arm. "What a lovely outfit. You look beautiful, as always."

As of late, Rene’s mind had been plagued by a tempest of preoccupations. There was much transpiring behind striking eyes of pellucid blue, cogs endlessly turning as a great many things had seized so much real estate in her mind. It wasn’t helped by her busy travel schedule as of late, visiting the distant kingdom of Colchis for the Decade of Peace festival, and then on to Tangea to revisit the scholeío of the arts for a limited course on painting techniques. Travel was an exciting endeavor, and one that Rene was only recently permitted to start making, as her parents had previously guarded her safety by limiting her exposure. But as she grew older, and demonstrated increasing levels of maturity and accomplishment, it was harder and harder for Dastros and Ianthe to deny her simple requests. But all such things were certainly contributory to the mountains of thoughts, and nothing might help to level some of those mountains like a trip to the markets. Featuring a specialty showcase of spices and herbs from around the kingdom, it was an innocuous day Rene anticipated, to stroll around the streets of the capital and revel in the majesty and splendor of Athenia.

In a one-shouldered peplos of the palest aqua and a matching himation draping behind her to the length of her hips, the petite doeling strolled contently towards the fragrant rows of stalls, already enticed by the olfactory bounty. It was unusual that her handmaid Melba wasn’t present, something that didn’t happen often, but Rene wanted the day to herself, to clear her thoughts without Melba fretting and keeping an ever-watchful eye. Her jewelry modestly consisting of tear drop earrings with simple necklace, bands on each bicep, a few jingly bangles on each tiny wrist, Rene was identifiable as a member of the upper class, but not overly ostentatious, her fragrance that of airy floral notes. She had nearly reached the first vendors when she heard her name called out.

“Rene! Rene, wait! I-I saw you arriving, I hope you do not mind. I wished not to interrupt your farewell with your father.”

The voice was familiar, and instantly a smile appeared as the fragile little Athenian flower turned to follow the sound as it wafted towards her like a harmonious satin ribbon. From off towards the shade of a stately tree came Ophelia of Condos, followed by her entourage of ladies. With surprising speed, she’d closed the distance and had snapped Rene into one of her usual warm embraces. “Oh! He would not have minded. He is eager to make the acquaintance of my friends, and he shall have the opportunity to do so if you still intend to holiday in Magnestis,” Rene answered with a smile. She was not embarrassed by her family in the slightest. She loved them all, and cheered them on through their own accomplishments despite having always been resigned to their shadows.

“What a lovely outfit. You look beautiful, as always.”

Harboring no shortage of reciprocity for the lovely Condos Rose, Rene returned the gesture, having not seen her friend since Colchis, several weeks prior. It wasn’t a very long time really, but felt like as much. “oh, thank you, and you as well,” Rene lifted the sides of her summery gown for a subtle curtsy before sparkling cerulean orbs moved to the attendants Ophelia kept with her. With a kind smile, she nodded to each, acknowledging them individually. “Thisbe, Aoide, Aglaia…” and with a more fanciful smile she sought the last and most precious of Ophelia’s ladies; “Evanthe. You all look simply lovely. Welcome back to Athenia. We are ever delighted to play hostess. Are you enjoying your stay thus far?”

Amid the swirl and bustle of foot traffic from market-goers, and single horse and rider entered Rene’s periphery, enough to momentarily draw her attention.

The enthusiasm of the Tangeans was nearly bubbling over, darling as they were. One’s speech superceded the other in such ribbons of excitement that one’s eyes had to vacillate quickly between them to keep up.

“It is beautiful here! And your market is huge!”

“Ophelia is right, that necklace is lovely. We are staying with the Marikas right now and you should see Ophelia’s chambers, they are -- “

“Girls, I am sure Lady Rene has no wish to hear an account of how ‘utterly gorgeous’ the Marikas gardens are.”

“But they are!”

“Hush, thisbe, let them be excited.”

One then another chimed in such a symphony it delighted the ear and encouraged zeal by way of association. Rene found it endearing, and reaching out she gently touched Thisbe’s arm as a demonstration that she was hardly bothered by the fervor of the younger girls. “It is quite alright, my esteemed Thisbe. I have had the privilege of seeing the Marikas gardens first hand, when Lord Panos invited me to speak of a commission. It is a rather breathtaking scene, worthy of the gods’ praise,” she agreed wholeheartedly.

“My Lady, I don’t see Melba anywhere. Is she unwell? I do hope her health has not declined?”

Evanthe’s satiny voice drew Rene’s serene gaze, before her mistress added to the concern.

“Is she unwell? I can make some healing tea if need be. We can buy whatever we need here to make her some medicine.”

The demure little artist smiled warmly, appreciative that her friends regarded the lives of her house attendants as valued as their own. “Your regards for Melba warm the deepest corners of my heart. Melba is quite well, I assure you. She is taking a personal day today, at my request. Not exactly one to take holiday often, it took no small degree of insistence on my part that she do so. She will be most disappointed I am certain when she learns of her missed opportunity to visit. We shall simply make it up to her when I have the honor of being your hostess in Magnestis,” Rene belayed their concerns gently, finding it humorously ironic that Melba would surely take the opportunity to remind her that she “told you so.”

“Daniil…”

Ophelia’s eyes had tracked with Rene’s taking in a rather rogueish looking young woman, thundering in from the countryside with seemingly little regard for the potential for disruption. Speaking of the Marikas…...Curious that Ophelia spoke her name. “Oh...you know her? Her father, Lord Pavlos hired me for several commissions as well. Perhaps she would like to join us in the markets? We should say hello,” Rene’s shoulders bunched energetically as she redirected herself towards the young woman. Coming up behind her, she left a small distance so as not to crowd, or end up in the line of fire if she was startled and turned around ready to defend herself.

“Daniil…..hello.” The darling nymph with hair of spun gold fluttering about her lovely clean face in the sunlight beamed towards the other. “You may not remember me. Your father hired me for several commissions, including the family portrait. And your grandfather as well, more recently. I am Rene,” she offered of herself. She seldom used her title, preferring to dispense any illusion of superiority. “And this is my cherished friend, Lady Ophelia of Condos, and her cherished assistants, Evanthe, Aoide, Aglaia, and Thisbe.” Rene made the introduction as if they had never before encountered one another, as a matter of social etiquette. “We were wondering if you would like to join us?” the petite blonde asked optimistically.

‘It is quite alright, my esteemed Thisbe. I have had the privilege of seeing the Marikas gardens first hand, when Lord Panos invited me to speak of a commission. It is a rather breathtaking scene, worthy of the gods’ praise.’
Ophelia’s lips curved upwards into a radiant smile as her friend lightly brushed her hand against the arm of her eldest handmaiden, addressing her in that warm and friendly way that always set them at ease. Thisbe, too, regarded the doeling with an expression of great admiration and affection.
“I only worry that they will overwhelm you, My Lady. They can be very excitable sometimes,” she explained, a sonorous chuckle escaping her lips. “But they are good girls and mean well, and you are right in what you say, the Marikas gardens are indeed exquisite.”
“Whether or not we are ‘good girls’ is not for you to judge, but our Lady Ophelia, or Evanthe at least,” Aglaia quipped, though there was not the slightest trace of acid in her voice. She meant the comment in jest, and knowing this, Thisbe simply laughed.
“Then they know I speak truly, for they love you well, Glaia, and rightly so.”

“My Lady, I don’t see Melba anywhere. Is she unwell? I do hope her health has not declined?”
Evanthe’s concerned tone drew the attention of all. Her enquiry set Ophelia on edge, and instantly she began to fear for Rene’s matronly companion, who she knew was a dear friend to her.
“Is she unwell?” she questioned concernedly, able to think of no other explanation as to why she would not be there. Ever-devoted to her noble charge, Melba was more like a mother than a servant to Rene: always at her side; able to anticipate her every need, even before she could. Their relationship often reminded Ophelia of that shared by the mothers and daughters she visited in her family’s provinces, those who lived in small houses, divided the duties of the household and slept together in one room. Confined to such close quarters, a strong bond was surely inevitable. Somehow though, Melba and Rene had replicated this relationship, despite their divide in station. They had ample room to roam, yet they chose to bind themselves together, much like herself and Evanthe. She could not recall a time when the handmaid had not been present, even if at a distance. So her lack of presence now was not only strange, it was concerning. “I can make some healing tea if need be. We can buy whatever we need here to make her some medicine.”

Rene’s response came with a warm smile, as many of her words did. ‘Your regards for Melba warm the deepest corners of my heart,’ she said. All eyes were fixed upon her now, awaiting her explanation. ‘Melba is quite well, I assure you. She is taking a personal day today, at my request. Not exactly one to take holiday often, it took no small degree of insistence on my part that she do so. She will be most disappointed I am certain when she learns of her missed opportunity to visit. We shall simply make it up to her when I have the honor of being your hostess in Magnestis.’
Ophelia breathed a small sigh of relief, letting out a breath she had not realized had been held within her until it fell from her rosebud lips. Her handmaidens looked similarly pacified, and Thisbe even pleased. Of course, being of an age with Melba, Ophelia supposed that she was looking forward to enjoying the company of another such as she.
“Well, please do give her our warmest regards when you see her,” replied the Condos Rose. “We are sorry to have missed her, but you were right to insist that she take the day off. She works awfully hard, but I suppose anyone in your service would, for who would ever wish to displease such an angel?”

It was then that she noticed her friend’s attention stray. Rene appeared to be glancing to the left, her azure eyes wide with curiosity. Ophelia followed her gaze, her own expression switching to one of instant recognition as her eyes fixed upon the rider. Tall and majestic upon her horse, Lady Daniil of Marikas rode unapologetically through the market, unaccompanied by guard or attendant. Ophelia knew that this had to be an act of defiance of Daniil’s part, for the conservative men of her family would never have permitted her to travel accompanied. What, then, was she doing? Planning a public speech, perhaps? Plotting to call the women of Athenia to her side with an orate similar to that she had delivered in the gardens? Or was this merely an innocuous trip? Rene was unattended after all, so it might simply be that Daniil had desired privacy.

“Daniil…” the nane passed her lips as a whisper as a tumult of emotions churned within her. Was she happy to see her new acquaintance? She was uncertain. Dread mingled with joy. Her heart thrilled, yet her head cried a warning. She felt as though she were standing at the edge of a cliff, wind whipping at her back. She could leap backwards and save herself, or spread her arms, dive forward and have faith that the Gods would give her wings to fly.

‘Oh...you know her?’

Well, that was one way of putting it…

Rene’s words snapped her to attention. Ophelia’s head whipped around to face her friend, and for a moment she could do nothing but stare at her with widened eyes.

‘Her father, Lord Pavlos hired me for several commissions as well -- ‘ Rene continued. Ophelia forced her lips into the motion of a smile, trying desperately to regain purchase of her thoughts.

‘Perhaps she would like to join us in the markets? We should say hello.’

Rene seemed so excited, and before Ophelia could stop her, she was heading in the direction of the young Marikas. Shame slammed into her like a boulder, propelling her forward. Rene was right, they should invite Daniil to join them. She ought to have suggested it herself; she ought to have raised her hand and beckoned to Daniil, but a strange sort of fear had locked her in place. Fear of what, though? Of Panos? That was ridiculous. Panos was not even present, and he held no jurisdiction over her. He was not her Lord Father, and whether he knew or liked it, she was the only one who could prove his innocence. He needed her -- if these rumours were to fade, at any rate.

“We should,” she agreed, easily catching up to and matching her strides with Rene’s. “I apologize for my previous silence, I was lost in thought. I am very pleased that you have secured a commission from Lord Pavlos as well. I have no doubt that your work will be exquisite as always.”

She could say no more then, for they had reached their destination. They approached from behind, leaving a respectful distance between them. Ophelia was relieved that Rene had opted to do this, for it was never wise to spook a horse, and she had no idea how Daniil might react to the presence of the young artisan. Hopefully, her familiar presence would soothe the fiery maiden, though she could not be certain.

‘Daniil...hello,’ Rene’s words were simple but sweet, her smile as bright as the sun. ‘You may not remember me. Your father hired me for several commissions, including the family portrait. And your grandfather as well, more recently. I am Rene…’
Ophelia’s emerald eyes darted between the two women as her friend continued to speak. She had known that Rene had been commissioned by Panos, but somehow she had been unable to connect the dots of a possible meeting between the two. Had she nothing to fear, then? Was Rene already accustomed to Daniil’s tempestuous temperament?
She must be, for she had the wisdom to call her Daniil, and not ‘Lady’ Daniil. The detail was small, but significant.
That seemed not to have been enough to save her from Daniil’s ire, however, for she had made a grave mistake. Ophelia thought a moment on what it could be, then realized it was probably the mention of her father and grandfather. Daniil’s eyes were a tempest, her lips pursed. Ophelia wanted to intervene, but before she could draw breath to do so, Daniil interjected.
‘Rene. Yes. I have seen your work in your home. I am certain that your patronage is appreciated by the tyrants that call themselves my father and grandfather.’

Now would be the time to speak before things got out of hand. She could make a comment about how beautiful Rene’s art was, or how lovely Daniil’s horse. She could ask Daniil what brought her to the market today. Rene, however, chose instead to move the conversation forward.

‘And this is my cherished friend, Lady Ophelia of Condos, and her cherished assistants, Evanthe, Aoide, Aglaia, and Thisbe,’
She had already been introduced to Lady Daniil, but formality dictated that Rene introduce them all before making her invitation. Ophelia cringed internally, knowing how Daniil felt about such things. Hopefully, this would not be viewed as such an unforgivable act. Perhaps Daniil would assume that Rene believed them to be strangers, and would merely correct her on the fact.
The handmaidens curtsied as they were introduced, all save Evanthe, to whom she had recounted the events of the meeting, stating Daniil’s utter distaste for such formalities. Having remembered such, Eva instead opted to greet Daniil with a respectful nod of the head, which Ophelia did also. Thisbe glanced at the two with a raised brow, but Ophelia returned the look with a stare that seemed to say ‘trust me,’ and so she did, for the woman was wise enough to know that her Lady never did anything without just cause.

‘We wondering if you would like to join us?’ Rene’s tone was brimming with enthusiasm. Ophelia looked to Daniil, wondering what she would make of all of this.

‘Ophelia. A pleasure to see you once more. I hope our previous conversation has given you as much to ponder as it did I. Your company, as always, is more than welcome to me.’

A grin instantly broke across Ophelia’s face, and she extended a hand for Daniil to shake, for a hug seemed too familiar, and a curtsy would be detestable to the other. “Daniil, I am so relieved to see you here. I had meant to seek you out, but I honestly believe your family has spies working for their spies!” she laughed lightly, deciding it best to make a joke out of their current predicament. “Honestly, I have thought of little other than you and our conversation. Your company would be a blessing. What brings you here today?” Again, she lowered one eye in a wink. “A great escape from the stare of owls, perhaps?”
Stare. What an appropriate collective, she thought. Stare. The Marikas’ seemed to be very good at staring: from Daniil’s tempest-tossed glares to the unwavering, unblinking, unrelenting gaze of the Great Owl himself. Yes, a stare of owls was indeed an appropriate collective for this strange and ancient clan.

Daniil showed no open animosity towards Rene, much to the Teangean’s relief. Her ire was all for her family, though this was to be expected. Ophelia knew well the Lady’s views on men, and the Marikas were men epitomized all that her new friend despised. Had Daniil been born a man, she would have been their greatest asset -- bold, intelligent, courageous. Instead, she had been born a woman, and thus these qualities were rendered useless, for what sane nobleman would choose a feisty orator over a demure dove? Daniil had no interest in marriage, thus her grandfather was determined to think her cursed, a black mark that tarnished the otherwise pristine family name, a feral child that brought shame upon their ancestors.

As much as she revered The Great Owl, she could not agree with him in this, nor condone his treatment of Daniil, and so she smiled at the girl, hoping the warmth in her eyes would help her to forget, if only for a little while, the frigid stare she was forced to meet each day.

She teased the girl lightly on the subject of her grandfather, a broad grin settling across her beauteous face as she flicked her emerald eyes to the sky, as if searching for an owl. She widened them comically, pretending to be afeared of the notion that one such creature might swoop down from the heavens at any given moment and pluck Daniil from the ground to carry her home to the Master. The joke played out, she allowed her mirthful gaze to land once more on her two companions.

“I do hope no owls will swoop down and abduct you,” she concluded with a light, lilting laugh. “I cannot fly, you see, and I doubt you can either despite the owl being your sigil, so unless you were willing to jump and trust me to catch you, I fear we would have to let them take you.”

On the surface, being sent to Athenia to represent the house of Thanasi did not look like much of a punishment, especially when the crime was poisoning one’s own father. To Thea though, Dionysius had chosen a blatantly painful way to make an example of her defiance. Even after being stuck on a boat for nearly two weeks, Thea did not regret her actions. Her father had offended her by suggesting he marry her off to Mateos of Antonis. Thea didn’t care that he was the commander of the Athenian army. Not only did Dionysius completely disregard her wishes to not marry, he thought it appropriate to not even keep her in Colchis. Well, it simply would not do at all. Thea had heard enough about the man, even if she had never met him in person. A staunch man of little emotion; no doubt Dionysius must have found that trait amusing when considering him as an appropriate match for Thea.

When Dionysius refused to hear of her refusal, Thea had slipped a little treat into his drink. It was practically harmless, she knew it would not hurt anything but the old man’s pride and dignity. Thea was not so rash that she would kill her own father, but a point needed to be made. Dionysius had been away for years. His children had learnt to exist without him and were happy to do so. His return was always going to be testing, but Thea had thought that he might have focused his attentions on Nethis, Dysius and even Mihail before turning his sights on her.

Thea had expected some sort of benign punishment for her actions, but to be sent to represent the house was enough to make her blood boil if she could have been bothered with the effort of such a reaction. She had been sent with only a few guards and servants, but otherwise as the only Thanasi member, therefore placing all expectations of keeping up social appearances on her. It was a waste of her time and efforts, truth be told, and he knew it. Thea would be staying with House Marikas while in Athenia and would be expected to maintain appropriate relationships with the old and well respected house. Thea hated to be made to speak more than she felt necessary. So much was easily given away with words and not enough value was put into silence. As the only Thanasi member residing with the Marikas, Thea would actually have to talk to them.

Even after the tedious boat ride, and the painful first night of upholding social expectations with the Marikas, Thea did not hate her father. Resented him, yes, but she did not hate the man. Hate was an awfully powerful emotion, one that required nearly as much thought and energy as love. Thea did not feel so strongly—negatively or otherwise—for the old man. He was simply her father. While she had generally been a rather obedient daughter—so long as it suited her to appear as such—Thea had always enjoyed her freedom. She was not the eldest, nor a son. The expectations and responsibilities that fell on Nethis did not burden Thea in the same way. Thea truly cared only to see the success of her house over any other, but she also rather enjoyed her comforts and freedoms. No matter how much Dionysius may expect her to complain upon her return, she would not. She would find a way to make the trivial little expedition worth her while. If her father wanted her well away from the house, then so be it, she would enjoy the freedoms without his ability to intervene, all while meeting his expectations, therefore giving him nothing to hold over her.

Thankfully, Thea had been able to insist that she was incredibly fatigued from the journey and retired early for the evening. The large Marikas building was extensive and elaborate. In the luxury of her own privacy, Thea could appreciate the masterful design and architecture of the house. Thea had also enjoyed viewing the paintings that adorned the walls leading to her chambers. If nothing else, she was at least able to entertain herself by admiring her surroundings. She couldn’t actually remember the last time she’d been to Athenia.

In the morning, Thea had her meal brought to her chambers and made no effort to be ready in any real hurry. The spice event was not starting until after noon and Thea was in no rush to be there early. When the time did come for her to prepare however, Thea had the servants run her a bath with no fragrances. She would soon enough be surrounded by the rich smells of spices and did not need to wear anything to clash with that.

Once her skin was rubbed clean, Thea picked out a simple dark grey chiton and had it pinned over one shoulder. Next, the servants cinched the material at her waist with a simple, black rope. The only adornments Thea wore on her person was the dark, serpent arm bracelet, it’s eye sockets filled with dull coloured crystals once more.

Thea had not come to stand out or be noticed any more than was expected of her. She would scout the festival as she’d been directed, then she would retire. She’d be back on a boat back to Colchis before the week was out.

When it was time to leave, Thea made use of the offer to borrow one of the Marikas carriages. It suited her to travel alone, for she had no desire to maintain small talk for the entire journey, no matter how short. The silence was welcomed in fact, even despite the solitude Thea had been able to enjoy that morning in her chambers. The only complaint Thea had about being alone was that she was finding it harder to ignore her boredom. It had been weeks since she’d played any of her little games. The servants and guards were not worth the effort on the boat ride and the crew were not much better. Perhaps she would find someone to break at the event, or better still, maybe one of her Marikas hosts would provide some entertainment before she made her journey home in a few days.

When the carriage halted, Thea flicked her hair back and waited for her servant to offer her his hand. Taking it, Thea stepped wordlessly out into the hot Summer sun. All around her, Thea could see different shades of yellows and reds, from the decorations, to the stalls themselves. People both upper and lower class alike filled the streets, bustling around the stalls in varying levels of enthusiasm. The rich scent of cinnamon, mixed with an array of other exotic spices reached Thea easily as she threaded herself into the crowd. Stall merchants called out to her, urging her to see their wares or sample their goods. Thea glanced, but otherwise did not engage with any of the merchants. Their attempts to appeal to her fell on deaf ears.