Peace had been celebrated and now it was time for the real event. As harmless as a cordial dinner between the upper classes may seem, it would likely be anything but. There would be gruelling pleasantries to observe—certain acknowledgements to be made, but beyond that, the evening would encourage loose lips and wagging tongues. There was no doubt that by the end of the night, secrets would have been shared and it was those that Thea found to be the most valuable.

In preparation for the event, the servants of House Thanasi were busily hurrying to ensure the needs of each member and their guests were met. Thea had the servants draw her a bath so hot, the water made her skin go pink and numb. Thea had long since found the sensation painful; it was one of the only times she truly felt something all over her entire body. Now, she welcomed the feeling and took pleasure in it, remaining submerged in the scalding water until her skin stopped tingling. Only then would she have her skin scrubbed with whatever oils or milks the servants saw fit for her to use given the occasion.

While she was bathed, Thea had another servant prepare her attire for the evening. As expected of the second eldest child and daughter of the Thanasi house, Thea would represent her status as was befitting of her bloodline. However, she had no desire to flounce herself around in hopes of catching the attention of an eligible bachelor. Her eveningwear was a deep black that hugged her bodice rather tightly, held in place with delicate silver, snake adorned fibulae, then drawn at the waist by a thin, silver thread. The clasp at her neck was also silver and gave no need for sleeves or shoulder clasps. Instead, while her front was covered from her collarbone down, her arms and back were bare, showing off the feminine well that trailed down her back, Where the silver thread held her waist, the fabric flowed liked smoke to the ground. With every step taken, Thea’s long legs would be visible, until she stopped moving again.

Once bathed and perfumed, Thea was dressed into her black ensemble. Servants hurried about fixing her hair—a task they generally did not like as they struggled to tell if she approved or not—moving to arrange the front and sides back into a lavish braid threaded with thin silver chain. The back however, Thea indicated for them to leave down, preferring her natural waves to hide the back of the clasp that held up the entire dress.

With her arms bare, Thea chose to wear a dark onyx hued snake pendant with oddly dull amber eyes around her upper right arm. Atop her head, in the same dark metal as her arm pendant, she wore a relatively discrete diadem that resembled twisted olive leaves. To finalise her look for the evening, Thea had her Thanasi pendant attached to the front of her dress and chose to take a deep red epiblema to wear over one shoulder during travel.

Befitting someone of her status, Thea had her eyes painted with kohl, drawing out the striking colour in a way only the black substance could. In a hue matching her epiblema, Thea stained her lips a deep red. It was only then that her haughty look was complete.

While the rest of the household readied themselves, Thea took the opportunity to leave for the dinner on her own. Thea doubted anyone would truly miss her presence, their guests would likely be relieved to not have to endure her purposefully awkward silence. The carriage that carried Thea was the most plain and simple of choices, Thea did not care for the theatrics, especially when travelling alone. She did not need to invoke her father’s wrath for taking his most prized carriage with his guests. Even so, her carriage bore the Thanasi crest.

As the carriage trundled towards the Dikastirio, Thea absently stared out through the curtains at the familiar landscape. Colchis may not have had the lush greenery of Athenia or Taengea, but it was still beautiful in its own way. The rugged cliffsides truly embodied the power of Colchis, a power that ran through the very veins of her house. The Kotas may have the military strength to hold the crown, but they were not so savvy in court as could be expected of the reigning monarch. At least the Thanasi had Evras within their fold. Young Dion had the colouring and physical composition of a Thanasi, but his mind was already being poisoned by the Kotas men. Thankfully Evras had the good sense to keep the boy close to her.

When finally the carriage drew to a halt, Thea waited for her attendant to offer her his hand. Taking it, Thea wordlessly stepped out into the cool night air. The Condos carriage before her was easily recognisable, as was the back of the girl as she retreated into the Dikastirio, away from the obscene sight of the gaggle of drunken fools polluting the area.

Upon spotting her, one of the crass beings gave a drunken hoot, earning the attention of his fellows. Women and men alike sat huddled together in all sorts of forms of disarray. One woman was leaving very little to the imagination, which could be either a blessing or a curse in itself.

Not one to feel the weight of scrutiny, Thea maintained her expressionless demeanour as she approached the Dikastirio. The only sign she gave that she was even aware of the rowdy group, was her cool, indifferent gaze.

“Thea Thanasi, she’s a witch
Or better still a lying bitch!
But tell me lads, if she’s wicked,
Why does she never speak?” the filthy, balding man slurred, before dissolving into a grotesque fit of laughter. While most of his companions howled and hooted at his words, some seemed a little wary of her as she approached. As if to solidify Thea’s observation, one of the younger, red faced little men nudged the loud singer and murmured something to him, but was dismissed with a wave of the hand.

“Poor girl, I bet, is shamefully mute,
What a sad waste of flesh
For no man will bare the shame,
Of a wife who cannot scream his name!” screeched the barely contained hag of a woman. Thea paused and raised a slender brow as she pierced the group with her gaze. Those who seemed uncomfortable before, were looking even more nervous now.

Handing the bottle on, the bald man went to continue, but was yanked back by one of the younger men. An uneasy murmur passed around the group and suddenly they seemed a little less enthusiastic about continuing their petty little song. Thea gave a long exhale as she slowly made her way towards them, her chin up ever so slightly so as best to maintain her superiority over them. They likely had hopes of embarrassing her. Perhaps it would have worked if embarrassment was even a feeling Thea was familiar with.

Standing before the bald man—close enough that the stench insulted her nostrils—Thea simply held out her hand for the bottle, while her free hand wrapped across her body to trace the elegant snake upon her arm. The bald man narrowed his watery little eyes in a way that comically suggested the process may have pained him. When the voluptuous woman grunted and nudged him, he took the bottle and handed it to Thea.

A nervous snigger echoed through the group. It was evident that they assumed she would back out of accepting their drink. They were partially right, she would not be offending her lips with their cheap swill and revolting germs. Thea stopped tracing the snake on her arm and took the neck of the bottle with that hand, her gaze never leaving the bald man. Slipping her thumb onto the opening of the bottle, Thea raised it to her lips in a faux show of drinking. As she did so, she indicated with her free hand for them to continue their little song. Uncertain glances were exchanged yet again, but the younger man half buried beneath the woman found the courage to complete the song.

“Maybe she has gone insane
From all those spells and potions
And jump but fail from her cauldron
Descant emotion!
She just might
Stew a snake tonight
Though no doubt, I would say
For I say all the Kotas
Decree her to stay away!”

The group gave another howl of laughter, apparently emblazoned by their companion’s display, and/or Thea’s lack of insult. All eyes turned to her expectantly, she could feel them trying to read her, but she gave them nothing but the slightest of bored expressions as she handed the bottle back with a slight swish.

She watched as the man took a hearty drink from the bottle and only then, gave the slightest of knowing smirks. The few of the group who caught her shift in expression stopped their laughing in a show of apprehension. Thea gave them no further attention after that, instead turning away to head into the Diskatario.

Likely the first of her House to have arrived, Thea strode into the building calmly, unfastening her deep red epiblema as she did so. A few heads turned to see who the newest arrival was, then returned to their previous engagement—as was the reaction she was familiar with receiving. In these settings, Thea preferred to make her attendance known for the sake of her House, before fading into the background. Once those around her had promptly forgotten that she was present, she had the luxury of consuming any secrets or gossip that fell from unsuspecting mouths. If not verbal intel, then body language was always fun for Thea to read. So many people—common-born and upper-class alike—gave so much of their thoughts away through the use of their bodies and expressions. The slightest shift in weight bearing, the involuntary eye glances in thought; all were pieces of information to a puzzle that Thea would ultimately solve—should she be interested in it. Just because she could read people, didn’t mean each and every soul was worth her attention. Some were woefully predictable and that snuffed out the fun before her private little game even began. Her favourite targets were those who would hope to defy or even dismiss her. The mute witch of Thanasi house, so simple, but too well bred to hide away. If only they knew how very wrong they were.

It did not take long for the room to fill with royal and noble Grecians alike. the more people that arrived made it much easier for Thea to blend into the background, at least until the ghastly pleasantries were exchanged. All rumours and snide comments aside, she did her part as the second daughter of the Thanasi house and paid her family's respects to their 'gracious' hosts. Soon enough, everyone was being ushered to their seats. In some cruel twist of fate, she ended up seated between Silas of Kotas and Mikael of Eliades. What two completely different people, but it was no matter. The Kotas boy was flowery and seemed to have an unnecessary need to seem valiant and pleasing, while the Eliades boy was a brutish thug wrapped in finery. If nothing else, Thea should be granted some amusement, for she was certain Mikael would not sit quietly for the entire night. 

With the introductions made, Thea donned her usual, slightly bored expression and cast her gaze about the room, paying particular notice of whom was sitting where. The overall atmosphere was somewhat awkward, not that it really bothered Thea. She would wait until those around her relaxed into more comfortable—or hopefully barbed—discussion. Until then, Thea was content with observing the conversations held between the guests from afar, all the while tracing the snake pendant on her arm once more. As her finger slipped over the empty eye socket, she thought back to the drunken fools outside and wondered if the loud bald man with rotting teeth had begun throwing up yet. Thea allowed herself a small smirk at the thought.

She must have angered the gods.

That was the only rational thought she could hold onto as realized that the only seat available for Vangelis to take was the one next to her. She had been far too focused on her conversation with the lord next to her to even stop to think that the crown prince might find the seat next to her suitable. It made sense, she had to reason, as it was on the other side of Princess Persephone of Xanthos as well. But in her heart of hearts, she assumed that Zacharias would take the seat next to her, as they had all but shown up together, as was usual for the pair.

She found herself quietly going back over her day, trying to lay out the pattern and method that had her shoulder to shoulder with a man she could barely stand. The celebrations had gone well into the night the evening prior, and Selene hadn’t been able to help herself in partaking of the musical showcase that filled the streets. By the time she had Jo had returned to their residence, it was late. By the time she awoke, it had been long past noon. WIth the only obligation for the day the meal that evening, she allowed herself a day to recover from traveling. An extensive ride on a mare borrowed from the Kotas stables had lasted into the afternoon, so much so that she had little time to nap before Jo had pushed her into the warm waters of her bath to clean any lingering dirt from her body. Any remaining discoloring of her hair had vanished on the boat ride, like they had hoped it would.

That did not stop Jo from attacking her hair with the same vigour as she had after it was freshly dyed chestnut.

The suitable dresses for the evening had been laid out on her bed, the final decision always her own. The white dress with its intricate collar and beadwork felt too similar to the gown of the day prior. The lavender piece was modest, by any means. The boat neckline continued to her shoulders, intricate gold brocades of diamonds curled around the bodice, attaching thin gossamer sleeves. The sheer white fabric dipped into a deep v, meeting low at her hips to expose every inch of delicate skin. And to add to the dramatics of her dress, she let Jo set it in an intricate braided chignon, small diamonds dotting the updo.

She knew the dress would have the desired effect.

The ride over with her uncle had been uneventful, and Selene has been pleased to find Zacharias arriving at close to the same time. It took no convincing for him to offer her his arm to escort her in. But then, in the hustle and bustle of greetings and small talk, they were separated.

And seated at opposing tables. And while he would most likely be surrounded by safe conversation the majority of the night, Selene would have to bite her tongue to keep herself from saying something she might regret.

She knew she was more upset at herself, though that did little to quiet the anger that rose within her. The man was infuriating, and she was irritated with how little he seemed to be affected by her. He most likely hadn’t even realized how much she’d changed. She had set out years ago to prove him wrong and she knew she had.

Why did she care if he noticed?

She wanted to completely ignore him, but the years of decorum lessons were too strong to brush aside. So, with a smile that she hoped didn’t appear as forced as it felt, Selene allowed the man next to her to speak to the lord across from him while she angled her body closer to the crown prince. “Your Highness, it is always a pleasure to be in your company.” Her voice was low, and she silently hoped he could hear the sarcasm in her voice.

It was the morning of the dinner and the air was still cool as Apollo started to ride his chariot across the sky. The birds were chirping and happily and there were two new friends who were about to cause a stir. Athanasia was already up and helping her Ntanta with Aea. The night before after the festival was an adventure in and of itself after seeing Aea again at the stage just a few feet away. Athanasia was happy that they didn't have the bladed match that Aea suggested the last time they met, that would have been awkward for the both of them to go to the dinner covered in bandaged and yet dressed so nice. Watching Ntanta brush Aea's hair out, seeing the dark locks becoming smooth like the ocean at night, "Let's put in two braids that connect into one that goes down her back." Ntanta tilted her head slightly before nodding her agreement, 'Good choice, it will frame her face nicely.' Ntanta got to work, it was good that now after the debacle with her hair many seasons past, her hands have become much more gentle.

Taking out the gorgeous, but simple, red silk cloth; Athanasia held it up towards Aea as she eyed her and the cloth itself, "This would go well with your complexion, I think we should change it a little though. I was thinking possibly over one shoulder and pinned with this." It was a silver fibulae, but it was stamped with a bird shape on the larger side of the pin. "I was thinking it would look great worn in an exomie style, but with some excess fabric hanging around your arm. What do you think?" Athanasia guided Aea to a side room so she could get changed without feeling like Asia and her Ntanta were hovering over her. While Aea got ready, Asia sat down so Ntanta could start getting any knots free. It was her goal to spoil her and show her that not all royals were bad.

The hairstyle that Athanasia wanted was a simple loose updo, her hair curled up to hold the crown that she picked out for the event. A crown of small golden olive leaves, a symbol for the peace that the we celebrating, sat nestled in her hair within the bun that was made for it. Athanasia added one piece at a time, placing the golden necklaces around her neck before she placed the matching golden cuff upon her forearm. Over time, Athanasia accumulated quite a bit of gifts from suitors that have tried to win her hand with rich gifts in a show of their wealth, none of that stuff impressed her. Although at a time like this, she had to admit that she had fun playing with the baubles when she wanted to dress up. Going to her many selections of fine fabrics, Athanasia felt one particularly light fabric brush against her arm. Looking at it and seeing the pale yellowed cloth that seemed to make her lightly tanned skin look more golden as well.

Athanasia looked around her, seeing the sun shine bright through her window as it illuminated her as she stood there, fabric in hand. *Was Apollo trying to guide her?* was her only thought before she gave a little shrug and chose the pale yellow one. It was a soft silk that seemed to brush against the skin nicely, Asia loved silk and how it felt. With Ntanta's help Athanasia was quickly with her fibulae in place. She wanted to try something different, something that would make her seem less... child-like. Athanasia looked at herself in the polished bronzed mirror, wondering what anyone would think of this look, certainly her mind wasn't on a particular person. Though she did wonder if there would be peaches at the dinner. Her one shoulder, they hid the small fibulae so it appeared to not have one, on the other shoulder, Athanasia chose an ornate fibulae. She remembered how she got this one, who it came from, the thought making her wonder if they were ok now that they were back home. They understood her even as everyone else gave her jewels and gowns, they gave her something akin to armor but not completely, just like her. Looking at the fibula closely, it had more golden olive leaves shielding over each other, delicate and beautiful while strong and sturdy. Putting the fibulae in place and putting on a simple girdle to pull in the fabric to show that she had curves without being indecent. As princess of Colchis, Athanasia hoped she made her parents proud tonight as they dined among the other kings of their ally nations.

Looking in the mirror, from the top of her head to the sandles on her feet, she did not see herself. All she had left to do was put on some eyeliner around her eyes. At an early age, Athanasia and Ntanta found out that she was sensitive to the popular kohl, making her eyes itch and sting. It was lucky that they found another option with the olive oil and ground up charcoal. It glided on smoothly around her eyes as she applied the makeup before looking in the mirror again. Golden olive leaves on her head and on her right shoulder in a show of peace and resiliance to stand strong together, eyes lined black to make them stand out, and her hair up off her neck. For a moment, she smiled thinking that she might finally look somewhat as regal and beautiful as her mother. Athanasia had hopes to make her family proud.

When Aea came out, Asia gave her a smile, "You look beautiful. How do you feel?" Guiding her new friend to a chair, Asia sat down in front of her. "I don't have that kohl stuff that seems popular with everyone, it makes my eyes itchy and hurt, but this works just as well. It is a little olive oil and charcoal, it also can make your eyelids feel soft when you take it off. Close your eyes." Athanasia smiled when Aea did, she knew this would be a possibly new and uncomfortable world for her, but for some reason, Asia wanted to share it with her lady. It was a feeling deep in her stomach that told her that she was a good person. Thinking of the previous night had Asia giggling *Lillefjer Nattergal? Yeah, it makes me sound exotic, no?* She had a feeling that there will be many days like that with her. She planned to talk to Vangelis to see if they could give Aea training to start learning more skills, she was strong, but in Asia's mind she needed to be stronger. Stronger for what she had planned to ask her new friend to do. Something most lady's weren't asked to do, but Athanasia wasn't any normal girl and she wanted Aea to be able to keep up. With that thought in mind, she also added for her to get lessons in reading and writing. Those were important. Sliding the thin brush over Aea's eyelides, Asia drew a fairly thin line before thickening it at the end to look almost like a wing on each eyelid. Asia blew gently to make sure it dried before backing off and smiled. "Beautiful."

It was finally evening and the dinner would start soon, so it was time to leave. Putting her ring on her index finger, it had a much smaller version of their family seal, to small for any kind of document outside of personal letters but it was still special to her just the same. Looking at her dagger with the rabbit's foot tied to it's sheath, she wanted to bring them so badly, feeling like a part of her was missing if she did not have it on. A small sigh escapes her as she puts away the dagger her father gave her, not wanting to ruin her look that she had for peace. Turning back to Aea, she gave the girl a smile, "Are you ready to go?"

Lacing her arm though Aea's they left for the carriage, she noted that she would need to get this girl more food so she could gain more muscle, it would be a shame if she colapsed on her because she wasn't eating enough. As they were leaving, Athanasia swiped some grapes from one of the several fruit bowls that were around her home, handing them over to Aea. "Eat. We need to get some muscle on you Lady Aea." At that, Asia grinned because she knew she would be caught off guard, though it wasn't new news. Saying nothing more about it, the ride was uneventful, but Asia remembered that Aea hated small spaces so she kept the curtains open wide to allow the breeze to flow into their space. "Now, we both have to be on our best behavior since they are all royals and nobles. I am glad you are with me though, outside of my brothers, I can never trust who is being honest or just trying to suck up to me. It is kind of hard to make friends that know everything about you. The good little royal and the wild one who runs through the woods in the moonlight while she hunts." She left it at that as she looked out the window, watching the scene pass as she listened. In her head she was thinking about how dull the dinner will be and how they possibly wouldn't even let Aea sit with them.

It did not take long for them to arrive to the Dikastirio hall, Athanasia sat up straighter as she looked over at Aea and smiled before they even stepped foot out of the carriage, "You ready? Just remember, you are one of mine and under my protection. No one will touch you, not if they wish to keep their fingers. Now before we go, you and I are going to play a game." Athanasia was still giggling at that one ever since last night, so she did not even have to explain to know her next words would be understood. "Now, are you ready to go inside with me, Lady Nightingale?" Asia had her impish grin in place as they finally arrived.

During his time away, Yiannis had thought he'd risen above creature comforts, but he had to admit there was nothing like waking up in his own bed. He was finally in a place where he could decompress, where the lives of his men and Colchis weren't weighing on his brow. The thought had crossed his mind to find himself in someone else's chambers, but ultimately decided it was time better spent some time catching up with his family. There would be plenty of opportunities to sate his appetites later.

Particularly at the dinner he would be attending, if he could divide his attention long enough. He'd be surrounded by his favorite people- Vangelis before him, his cousin Essa to his right, and his Sister would be joining as well. It had him feeling lighter than air, to have returned home in the midst of a festival celebrating that each kingdom of Greece had decided their battles were over. It weighed on his mind momentarily that he would not be sitting with his Father or Mother, but then he realized the three grown Kotas children were nominated as representatives for their host. There could not be a greater honor.

He dragged the flint across his cheek, making sure that his hair was immaculately aligned at his ears before tackling the stubble on his chin. Satisfied, he selected a few rings. The simple gold bands inlaid with an olive branch filigree seemed to be the most appropriate. In keeping with Colchian tradition, he didn't adorn himself with any necklaces- the idea was more abhorrent to him now that he had fought Persians with their jewelry that seemed to be in excess. Before, he thought it was effeminate. Now, it seemed like it would fly in the face of the three Kingdom's work.

Finally, he chose his favorite chiton, pristine white with a bold, crimson trim on its edges. His himation matched, and he tied a golden silk belt around his waist, pulling the loose fabric in against his muscles. It came together in his favorite affect- ostentatious, but only accidentally so. He smiled, admiring himself for a moment in the looking glass before deciding he'd best get on his way, especially as familiar voices passed by his door. Who would he have the opportunity to greet? His cousin? His sister? His brother? He swung open the door with a bit of flair to make sure he caught the attention of the passerby, before nonchalantly stepping out to greet them.

Death was strange. When Callie died, Aea remembered crying for days. She would sometimes be doing something completely irrelevant to Callie at all, thinking of something completely outside of her, and the tears would come. She’d cried last night, of course—an hour or so feeling as if she were utterly alone, utterly a failure. That she could not protect her family. And then she stopped. Stopped, and slept longer and harder than she’d ever slept before.

Aea was brought out of her thoughts when Asia's retainer, Ntanta, brought a brush to her hair. She flinched away from the contact, her shoulders staying tense as the woman ran the bristles through. The concept of being touched for any reason was lost on her. She could brush and braid her own hair well enough.

When Ntanta snagged on a tangle, Aea flinched again, this time lurching forward with her hands clenching the arms of the chair. She froze halfway to a standing position, then slowly sat back down. Old habits, she supposed.

“Forgive me,” she said quietly. Aea held the chair in a white-knuckled grip and closed her eyes to let the woman do as Asia had asked her to do.

“Nothing to forgive, dear. I apologize, that one was hiding from me.” Ntanta was kind, and Aea was sure the woman hadn’t been planning on spending her evening unknotting some common girl’s wind-twisted nest.

After a while, the adrenaline drained from Aea's body and the gentle tugging on her scalp began to feel pleasant. Oddly soothing, even. Little by little, her muscles uncoiled until she found herself tilting her head back, her eyes closed to the ceiling. Allowing herself to enjoy the sensation and relax into it meant that she could tamp down the thoughts and feelings she didn’t want to have at this moment. She could just...drift.

But then, like an errant feather, she came back to the memories of last night. In her mind’s eye, she watched her father’s head fly from his shoulders, her view clear from her hiding place in the bushes. His head rolled from his neck, his body crumbled, and he fell to the sand. No longer Hektos of Nethisa. No longer her father. Just a corpse.

Aea bit her lip and thought about her last happy memory instead. The festival yesterday. The sun had been so bright, everything so loud and unapologetically alive. She would go back there now, if she could. She was angry. Angry at Hektos for letting himself get killed, for leaving her, for scorning her so much that instead of loss...all she felt was relief. And guilt. She was furious, she was free, and she hated her father for both. Hated him so much that it rivaled her love.

But she was free. When she walked out of camp that morning, not one of her four uncles dared to stop her. Had they tried, she didn’t know what she would have done, but Uncle Dasmo’s scowl looked less like a threat and more like the morose grimace of a fifty-year old man who’d lost his twin brother. Weak. Shackled to his choices and his deeds. This was his life that he chose, not hers, his inaction was his to bare, not hers.

“There. All done.” Her hair was pulled over her shoulder, Ntanta’s gentle hands coaxing her back to the outside world. Aea ran her fingers through the thick curtain, no longer damp. She bathed earlier in a washing tub—big enough to sit in so long as she didn’t stretch out—and warm enough to bring a blush to her skin. While she usually scraped her skin with pumice stones or sand, there was none of that here. Instead, she’d used some strange scraping apparatus to shave the olive oil from her flesh, then washed her hair with watered, sweet vinegar.

Aea no longer smelled like a campfire. Nor the blood after a hunt, nor a Taengean valley or Colchian mud. Now she smelled like honey. The strands of her hair were soft, almost slick like glass.

Asia suddenly appeared and Aea turned her head to look at the other girl. Although the night before had seen Aea stuttering and tripping over her own indecision on how to address the princess, she did not feel such anxiety anymore. Perhaps it was the long day she’d spent in the royal’s chambers, perhaps it was simply another symptom of no longer feeling as if a presence greater than Zeus himself were looming directly above her, watching her every move and judging each one as insufficient.

“Let's put in two braids that connect into one that goes down her back.” Asia’s voice chirped behind her like a spring sparrow.

Aea smiled. She did not feel like smiling, but the more she pretended like everything was normal, and that she was perfectly content, the more she appeared so. She was nothing if not an exceptional liar with a penchant for wearing masks that were considerably opposite of whatever she felt in a given moment. She had to be, else Hektos would have broken her years ago.

“Good choice, it will frame her face nicely.” Ntunta quickly swept the locks behind Aea’s ears. The old woman must have done this a thousand times; but who braided Ntunta’s hair, she wondered. Aea’s black mane was quickly tied off with a leather strap. Whatever her hair looked like, it was sufficiently out of her face.

“Thank you.” She stood and gave the old woman a small smile, a smile that said her labors were appreciated, but uttered nothing further. When she turned to Asia, she found the smaller girl holding out a bolt of soft red cloth.

“This would go well with your complexion, I think we should change it a little though. I was thinking possibly over one shoulder and pinned with this.” The princess held up a silver fibulae, a small bird carved into the display. “I was thinking it would look great worn in an exomie style, but with some excess fabric hanging around your arm. What do you think?”

Aea followed Asia to a side chamber and watched the back of the girl's head as she crossed the room with all the grace and mirth of someone whose spirit was content and her place in the world secured.

There was an excitable air about the princess, like the shadows of the world had never swallowed her—that was what drew Aea the most. The other girl had her hardships, else she would not be so shaken by the blackest night, but she did not allow it to pull her into despair. She was a bright, warm presence with a spirit as playful and light as a rare summer breeze.

She was assured, this Colchian princess. Aea had no doubt that if she had robbed the girl that night in the forest, Asia’s wrath would be swift, decisive, and final. It was a happy thing, then, that Aea had not done what she was prone to doing when catching a stranger alone at night.

She was glad for it, and yet she did not know what she had done to deserve Asia's friendship outside of not robbing her. She didn’t know why any of this was being given to her, why she was being treated well, and she did not know how to accept it outside of allowing it and hoping this all wasn’t just a dream.

“I think I know nothing of complexions, nor whatever an exomie style is, but that I trust your judgement in matters of aesthetic.” Aea crossed the threshold of the next room and found herself in a small but open chamber of indeterminate use. As Asia left the room, Aea raised her hand and wiggled her fingers in parting. When she was alone, however, her smile dropped as quickly as her hand.

She looked at the ceiling, the walls, the decor, then turned to survey the rest of the room. There was a flash of moving color and she startled, her hands flying to her waist where her knives should be, but were not.

Aea blinked. Then she took a deep breath and gazed away from the tall looking glass, barely catching a glance save for the vague impression of olive-toned skin and black hair. She placed the red material—so divine and soft and light that it seemed spun from clouds—upon a chair set against the wall. She untied her chlamys and folded it neatly before setting it down. Off came the ropes at her ribcage and waist, then the leather straps at her shoulders. The threadbare cloth she called a tunic fluttered to the floor like a dead leaf, not even substantive enough to gather or pool at her feet. She reached for the red material, stopped, bit her lip, and glanced over her shoulder.

She shouldn’t. When she and Kaia were separated at the peace festival, the blonde had received a small looking glass from Lady Ophelia. Aea hadn’t looked into it. Hadn’t wanted to. She shouldn’t now. It was better to remain in blissful ignorance of what she looked like than to be disappointed that her father was right. Hektos had lied about so much, Aea had been hoping he’d been lying about her malformation as well. She wouldn't have doubted his claim had he not contradicted it last night by telling her why he got so angry when she did not cover her face. It was just as likely that the contradiction itself was a lie, she did not know. He'd said so many at this point that she could not untangle the untruth from its axis of subjective fact.

Her fingers clenched above the material and she stood frozen between indecision for a moment. If he wasn’t lying, if she was as unsightly as he said, she should know. Her jaw ticked. She turned around and made for the looking glass, staring at her feet and reminding herself that it really and truly didn’t matter if she was more monster than girl. Better to be feared than loved. She got to the foot of the glass, counted backward from three, then looked up.

Then she furrowed her eyebrows. The person staring back at her was not a person she’d seen before, and it was not a person she’d expected to meet.

The woman in the mirror looked nothing like the girl she’d often seen in dark pools of water. Touching her cheek, the soft pressure matched the movement of the woman in the glass. That was her cheek. Her nose. Her chin. Her lips.

And her eyes—they were blue. She knew they were blue before because her uncles had said so, but they were really blue. Not warm like Lady Rene’s, nor stormy like Kaia’s, but cold and sharp like ice.

She touched her neck, her shoulders, arms, breasts, belly, hips. This was what she looked like. This was her. This was her face. Her body. Hers. Aea stood at the mirror, transfixed by every little detail she found. A crescent scar high on her side and running toward her back—from a jagged rock, she remembered. A freckle above her lip—just one. The shape of the muscles weaving along her tapered waist. The curve of her knee. The line of her shoulder.

It was all hers. She could do what she liked with it. Hurt it, heal it, scold it, adore it, kill it, nurture it, hate it, love it, fuck it, kill it, worship it, ignore it, bruise it, caress it, stab it, stitch it. She could do anything with it. Anything. The one person on earth it could have ever belonged to was dead and burned. This face, this body, this spirit, was hers, and hers alone. She could do with as she pleased. So what would she do with it?

Aea ran her hand idly along her belly, watching the muscles coil and jump under her fingertips, the nerves of her skin exposed and on edge. She slid to the floor, the marble cold against her bare bottom.

All of the times she’d tried to make herself neat and presentable, all those wishes for a prettily-colored peplos, all the hate she felt at herself for not appearing enough to warrant even a secondary glance past her cousin—none of it truly mattered. All the while, everything she’d reached for had been wrong. Her father had lied to her. Her face was not unsettling. Her nose was not large, she did not have crooked teeth, her eyes were not sunken in, she wasn’t discolored. Why had he told her that? Why did he lie? Why did he make her think that it mattered?

Her father hated her, and he made her believe that if she was anything else but herself, he might love her instead. But even the excuse that he held onto, her disfigured face, was a lie. He had no reason to hate her. He just did. And there was nothing on this earth she could have ever done to change it. He hated her, and then he left her. What had she ever done to him? Why?

She wiped her eyes with the back of her wrist. She knew she shouldn’t have looked. At least if she hadn’t, she could have kept herself from tearing the cover from the truth. Her whole life could have passed her, and she would have always thought Hektos loved her.

And it was here that she realized he’d lied to her because he could not find another excuse to make her hide in shame. Or maybe it was because she looked like her mother, as he said the night before. Perhaps it was even because, like her, he could see no trace of himself in Aea, and he’d hated her for it.

Fine. He hated her, that was just fine. He was dead. She was not.

Aea’s lip wobbled, but she bit it and looked away. Just like when her knives came out to meet the flesh of the undeserving, her emotions dulled. She could not let them come to surface, not today. Maybe not ever. She forced her thoughts away, cut them like a thread, balled them up, and stuffed them far away in her psyche. And then she was back in the room, the colors and shapes sharper and brighter around her. She hadn’t paid much attention to her surroundings all day, floating between memories and the present. But she saw them now.

So fine, so clean. She was in the royal house of Colchis, spending the evening getting ready with the princess of the kingdom. Her friend. Aea was lucky. Beloved of Apollo, they said. Well, if that is what she was thought to be, then that is what she would be.

Aea paid no attention as she moved from the floor to her feet once more. She wrapped herself in red and pinned everything as Asia had said, quirking her eyebrows at the form-fitting nature of the gown. It was a deep red, not like blood, but the blush of a deep sunrise. A scarlet rather than vermillion or garnet.

She bit her lip in consideration before she rummaged through her usual attire to grab the thick leather cord she used for her chlamys. Resting her foot upon the chair, she wrapped the leather around her flesh thrice before knotting it at the back. If she was to play Asia’s servant, the princess had not exactly chosen a subtle hue for her, but she would make sure her arms were muted. She was going nowhere without at least one.

Aea was always subtle. Quiet. Careful. But sometimes it was better to play the bedazzling knight rather than the demure shadow—appearances and presentation were everything when one wanted to make a statement. If Athanasia's statement was that she had exceptionally dressed retainers, then she should have no problem with them being exceptionally armed as well. Guards were all well and good, but they could also not go where Asia was at all times.

Retainer. The word was alien. As much as Aea favored Asia, as much as she enjoyed her company, as much as it flattered her to finally be wanted over her cousin, Aea could not just leave Kaia for gainful employment. She could leave her uncles in payment for every time they did not leave Hektos and take her with them, but she could not leave her cousin. Kaia was her partner, her other half, the one person who had ever loved Aea as much as Aea loved her. Kaia needed her. She needed Kaia. What Asia asked for was beyond Aea’s ability to give, and still far too generous for her to accept. She would do it, but only if Kaia could come too.

Her inability to compromise and promise her company was poor payment for all of this. Aea pulled her long braid over her shoulder and it swung to her waist. She’d tarried long enough. Striding from the room, she was light as a bird. The material of the dress clung to her and glided along her skin with every swing of her hips, almost slippery in its texture. She did not know what it was, but it was not linen and it was probably more expensive than she could ever afford.

Asia was fully dressed already. The soft paleness of the gown she wore brought out every sun-kissed undertone she possessed, leaving the princess resplendent and buffered. Golden as a dawn-kissed meadow of wheat. The cut was remarkably low on the chest, allowing the eye to catch on the curve of her breasts, daring an onlooker to glance at it. Her copper-touched mane was twisted loose atop her head, giving her hair volume and elegance that was further imposed by the gleaming crown atop it. A shining fibulae of remarkable shape and craft secured itself upon her shoulder. Her russet eyes, sly and playful, were outlined with black and transformed into something less approachable and more coaxing.

“You look beautiful. How do you feel?” Asia asked. She seemed to have a way of yanking Aea’s small lopsided smile from her without ever trying. Maybe it was in her genuinity, or the way she made no apologies for who she was or what came from her mouth.

“Said the dawn to the dusk,” Aea replied, curiosity driving her to round the princess and inspect her from toe to crown. Asia stood so straight and regally, with her shoulders back just so and her chin lifted ever so slightly. That was how a royal stood, then. “You are radiant. I like this on you—it suits. Bold in a way that only beautiful things dare to be. It is no wonder Zeus does not get angry with you when you scold him.”

Aea's small grin faded and she ceased her teasing, standing before Asia now in all seriousness. How did she feel? Not nervous, not unsure, nor particularly anything. “I feel like myself, I suppose. Though I daresay much less brown than usual. And, of course, less armed.”

Though she did feel as herself, it was not the truth in full. More. That is what she felt like, though more of what, she could not say and did not care to analyze and find out.

Asia guided her back to the chair and plopped herself before Aea, brandishing a brush and a smile. “I don't have that kohl stuff that seems popular with everyone, it makes my eyes itchy and hurt, but this works just as well. It is a little olive oil and charcoal, it also can make your eyelids feel soft when you take it off. Close your eyes.”

Aea raised a brow but did as requested regardless. She did not flinch when something brushed against her eyelid. It was strange, this trust she had for this girl. Hektos had always told her that only blood would want to keep her safe, and all others would see every opportunity to cut her down in their passion to have what she stood before. But he’d lied about that too. Asia would not hurt her. Aea felt it deep in her gut. There was nothing malicious or deceptive about her—nothing. She was the purest form of raw truth, crystal clear as Olympian water. Not just anybody could be trusted so quickly, so easily, but Aea had relied upon her intuition for long enough to know that more often than not, it was correct.

Even if Asia did mean to harm her, Aea would not be particularly worried about it now. Not like she had been in the forest. One day she would die, and this was the truth. Flirting with death was one step above shying from it and one invitation away from coaxing it; just where she liked to be. Her death, she understood now, was the only choice she did not have, but she did have a say in how she interacted with the bearded spirit. Hades would rejoice on the day she joined him, she was sure. Ah, there you are. Here with me at last.

He and Ares had always seemed much more familiar than the other gods. Inviting, even. Apollo and Perseophone seemed all but harmless to her, Hermes a familiar and exciting presence. Artemis and Hecate both dangerous and tempting. As Asia’s brush stroked along Aea’s eyelid, she wondered, not for the first time, if any of them were even real.

As if reading her thoughts, Asia giggled. Aea kept her eyes closed and smiled, curiosity and amusement filling her head and chasing away all manner of weighty considerations. “Should I even ask?”

Asia finished her labor and gently blew upon Aea’s eyelids. There was a brief pause before the princess declared she was done without so many words. The pitch and tonation of her utterance, beautiful, was undeniably final. Aea opened her eyes and glanced at her reflection behind Asia long enough to see what the girl had done.

Her eyes, already a startling blue, looked less probing and more perplexing. She could not even read herself in the glass. The woman peering back at her could have been calculating all the ways in which she could ruin Aea, but it was just as likely she was thinking of all the ways she might have her, too. Aea stood up and tilted her head, analyzing her twin. She looked older. Daring. Graceful. Cautious. Wild. All of the things a woman should be, and all the things she should not be as well.

She was unreadable and unpredictable as an unbroken mare, beautiful and terrible as black clouds on the horizon. If indeed her mother held any likeness to the woman in the mirror, then Aea felt quite sorry for her father, for he never stood a chance. This was her, and she still did not know how to feel about it. 

As Asia gathered the last vestiges of her own ensemble, Aea asked after the princess’ scabbard and leathers. She wore none of the jewelry Asia offered, for what use did Aea have of pretty trinkets? She was not expected to display herself as a princess was, and even if she were, she would laugh and invite such a commander to find a way to make her comply. Glittering things only took attention away from the sword she sheathed at her hip, and that sword, in turn, took attention from the knife Aea slipped into the leather ties on the inside of her thigh, cushioned between her legs.

She cinched the belt and scabbard to her waist in place of a delicate tie, the grip of her sword resting just above the generous curve of her hip. Aea took three leather chords from Asia’s seemingly endless collection and fashioned a braided circlet she slid onto her head in place of a pretty accessory. It was simple and left her both unencumbered and comfortable. There was absolutely no doubt that she would be seen for a very odd choice of retainer, perhaps even a bodyguard, but that is what she liked best. To be underestimated was to be given the chance to strike first, strike hard, and win before anybody could guess that she could kill them. Aea turned at Asia’s longing sigh and found the girl gazing at her own dagger upon the bed.

“You know,” Aea said, “if you strap it between your thighs, the only way anybody could guess is if they dared let their hands venture there.”

She saw Ntunta freeze in her peripherals. Aea shrugged at Asia, “You should always prepare for somebody to try to kill you, because odds are that someone will try at some point. Better to be prepared than dead.”

Asia asked her if she was ready to leave and Aea grabbed up the three rolls of sealskin she’d brought with her. A gift to her father from the barbarian prince. Everything Hektos had belonged to her now. She could sell the skin, but it was customary to gift hosts in the North and so that is what she would do—servant or no, she was not supposed to be Greecian.

After gathering her burden, Aea nodded, observing the way the other girl laced her arm through her own. It was solidifying, like a chain. She did not dislike it nor particularly enjoy it, but as they walked, she found that she indeed did like it. It was akin to looking up in the sky and seeing her raven. Comforting. This was her friend, somebody she could trust, somebody she could see herself loving and who might love her back.

She tried not to stare at their surroundings or the people they passed on their journey from Asia’s chambers to the front door. If she looked, then she would stop and drink in everything that she could, her fascination for new and extraordinary things overtaking the need to leave.

Ntanta followed behind them, though Aea could not see why. It was late, surely she wanted to go home? Perhaps she was going too, though Aea hoped not—she would hate to have to whisper everything she said. She needed to teach Asia the wordless codes she and Kaia used. 

Aea turned her attention away from the long corridor and fixed it upon Asia, her smile casual enough that Ntunta should not suspect her of scheming. "It will be my turn to take you somewhere next time. Rowing, I think. You'd like it."

She leaned in close enough to almost brush the girl's cheek with her own and her voice hushed to a whisper. "Is she to follow us the whole time? How will we—"

One moment she was leaning into Asia and the next, she was not. All she felt was a hard impact to her shoulder, all she saw was a flash of brown-white-red, and all she could do was mindlessly react.

She yanked her arm from Asia and slid her dominant foot forward, turning just enough to shove away the man that rammed into her, left forearm to his chest and right hand reaching for a blade.

Then her mind caught up with her muscles and she jerked away as if he'd burned her. Good thing too, else she'd be walking into dinner with a bloody nose to match her dress. Her eyes darted from his face—pretty—to his hands—clean—to the top of his head—lustrous, but no crown, thank fuck. Last time she'd seen a man that looked like him, he'd been a prince. She'd so far assaulted two of Asia's kin, she was not keen on a third. Asia had not a clue, and Aea would be glad to keep it that way.

She might have asked him if he was near sighted, clumsy, or if he made a hobby of running into others but held her tongue and reminded herself that she was not on a dark street in the low quarters. She did not know who or what she could cut her eyes at in these sprawling hallways. Truthfully, she was more accustomed to huffing and continuing on, but her mood was decidedly less forgiving tonight. He'd slammed into her like a battering ram and had yet to apologize.

If he was waiting on her to offer her regrets to him, he would not have them. She and Asia had the right of way, and she was quite sick of simpering when she had done nothing wrong to begin with. Perhaps he needed to be prompted. Fine. If he was unresponsive after, they would take their leave and waste no more time.    

"You ought to be careful where you step." She smiled because this was the royal palace and not a Nethisan back alley. "It would have been a shame to knock you over and ruin such a pretty chiton. Or worse. I think you've enough red on, don't you?"   
_________________________________________________________
   
Asia grabbed a branchling of grapes from a side bowl near the door and practically shoved them at Aea. “Eat. We need to get some muscle on you Lady Aea.”

Aea snorted. “You would have me be so obviously deadly. I daresay I’d cut an intimidating figure, at least. Short, but undeniably terrifying.”

The looking glass told her she had plenty of muscle and fat—enough to kill, run, and bend any which way she liked. Enough to give her voluptuous curves and inlay them with deceptive chords of muscle. The only reason she would need to have more of anything was if she were to swing a sword for any great amount of time. Daggers were better. Though she supposed knowing everything there was to know about any and all things was preferable to knowing nothing about something. Willful ignorance was, after all, a quick way to be outpaced and outmaneuvered by any who should take advantage of such foolish pride.

Once outside, Aea’s grapes were already in her stomach—even though Asia had given her food that afternoon, her stomach had not been satisfied. It never was. Aea passed the guard she’d gotten in an argument with when she arrived and her eyes sought the place along the face of the building she’d hung Agogos’ signal. It was still there, as was the bowl she’d set out for him. He wasn’t there, though.

She looked up at the sky, then the lip of the roof, and there she found him. Agogos had never lost sight of her for so long—she’d been so scared to go inside and have him leave her because he thought her lost, but there he was among the pigeons lining the stone, his much larger body pushing a wide gap between the congregation.

She let go of Asia long enough to unwind the thick braid of material from the column—three scarfs tied red-yellow-red—and hold it up. Agogos spotted it and cocked his head, pausing long enough to observe her before he took wing and glided down. His sharp digits pricked the bare skin of her shoulders as he settled easily upon his usual perch.

Aea stroked his chest and cut her eyes at the guard, who hadn’t looked from his position dead-ahead. He’d laughed at her earlier when she asked for Asia. It took an owl to get him to go and tell her Aea was at the front door. She stared at the guard long enough to memorize his face, his hair, his length, his uniform, and then she nudged Agogos from her shoulder. She’d get her owl back later.

The raven took wing and she followed Asia to the carriage. Somebody took her seal skins from her and though she didn’t trust the stranger, but she supposed it would be odd to carry them about like a scholar with his scrolls. The sealskins put away, she climbed into the carriage with Asia.

The curtains of the cab were open and Aea wrapped the signal around her fist, resting her elbow on the sill so the colors were visible from the sky. Perhaps she did not need to use cues with Agogos when she went inside, but it was not a chance she was willing to take until she trained him to do so. She’d gotten lucky tonight, but next time, she may not be.

“Now, we both have to be on our best behavior since they are all royals and nobles. I am glad you are with me though, outside of my brothers, I can never trust who is being honest or just trying to suck up to me. It is kind of hard to make friends that know everything about you. The good little royal and the wild one who runs through the woods in the moonlight while she hunts.”

“I’ll behave.” Aea kept her face pointed out the window. The walls didn’t feel so close when she could breathe the open air. “It is you I worry for. Running through the woods in the moonlight. Hunting. Positively atrocious behavior, you know. It’s far more dignified to walk slowly and eat the game others hunt in your stead.”

Which is, ironically, exactly how their meeting unfolded. It was amusing to imagine that Aea was the civilized one between them, but she could pretend it so if she wished. Just for tonight, and then, reality would settle in before the early morning mist.

_________________________________________________________

Riding in a carriage was...interesting. It made no sense to her that they didn’t walk when their destination wasn’t that far. Carriages were cramped, rickety, and vulnerable to tipping over. Next time, Aea would walk alongside. Then again, there likely would not be a next time.

Despite having spent all day with Asia, Aea still did not know why her presence was wanted here, and she was not stupid enough to think that Asia’s parents would allow her to pull such a stunt again.

Not that they were aware of said stunt—not that Aea knew of. That morning, she’d been hurried from the front door and straight to Asia’s chambers like a badly kept secret. It was quite fun, really. Like at any moment, the fucking king of Colchis could step from a room and demand the stray be tossed in the dirt. Or better yet, anchored to a rock and thrown in the sea.

The vehicle rocked to a stop behind a line of carriages and near a large building that Aea knew not the name of. The structure was large and imposing and certainly bigger than any building she’d ever seen. She’d never even been in Midas before, perhaps all of their royal buildings were as large as this. Certainly Athanasia’s residence was grandiose.

“You ready? Just remember, you are one of mine and under my protection. No one will touch you, not if they wish to keep their fingers. Now before we go, you and I are going to play a game,” Asia said.

One of hers and under her protection. So strange to hear, and untrue in any case. There would be kings and queens in attendance tonight, and not just the ones that ruled Colchis. Aea doubted Asia could keep her from getting tossed out if one of them made a spectacle. It wasn’t likely to happen, given that Aea was only posing as a personal servant, but still possible should she offend any of them.

“If I am yours and under your protection,” Aea turned her head from the window and set her sights on the princess across from her. “Then you are mine and under my protection too. And should anybody touch me, I’ll not have you intervene on my behalf. I like your own fingers right where they are.”

She straightened when footsteps echoed toward the carriage door. “Now what is this game we’re playing?”

Asia was giving her a look. Aea lifted her eyebrows, searching through her memory for what she was hinting at. Oh. “Athanasia, you cannot possibly be serious.”

The carriage pulled up again, this time directly in front of the door. Asia’s lips spread into a wicked smile. “Now, are you ready to go inside with me, Lady Nightingale?”

Hermes take this girl, she is surely one of yours. Aea didn’t have much time to reply before somebody opened the door. She supposed it mattered not whether she was tossed on her ass for infiltrating a private dinner as a servant, guard, or guest. At least she would get to say she’d had the opportunity to do it to begin with. As long as she retained silence, all she had to do was allow others to assume her there for a reason. She may even be able to collect information—she didn’t know what kind or what for, but any information was good information.

Aea swallowed past her hard-thumping heart and smiled. She conjured up the practiced memory of an accent, liliting and cold as the land it was spoken in. It tangled with her Colchian accent, creating something entirely bastardized but something, she was sure, none of the Greeks in attendance would know of regardless. After all, they were far too busy with the barbarians bordering them—what did they know of the much more organized barbarian kingdoms even farther north?

“I am, your royal highness,” Aea said in her faux-accent. It was convincing enough to unpracticed ears, but an actual northerner would laugh at it. “Though I do think you should beat that clumsy Greek tongue of yours until it can produce the correct pronunciation the gods gifted my forbearers. I suppose Lady Aidoni will do for now.”

She got out first, surprised to find the palm of somebody’s hand directly before her. Aea sidestepped it and glided down to the ground, her black sandals soft enough to make the lightest of sounds on the stone below and hardy enough to withstand the errant piece of ceramic in her way. One of many pieces scattered liberally around the front entrance. There was a crowd of commoners off to the side, spread thin and occupied by something amongst themselves. She should be there with them, not here apart.

Asia dismounted the carriage behind Aea and together, they approached the large building. It crossed her mind, very briefly, that she would not risk a hanging tonight. Her father was not alive to expect her home with a treasure of ill-gotten goods. She could steal what, when, and if she wished. If she did not wish to, she no longer had to. She was free.

She straightened her spine and lifted her chin, her everyday posture sufficient. It may not be regally straight like a Greecian noble, but it was straight and assured and for all anybody knew, it was how nobles carried themselves in the wild kingdoms in the far north. She found a subtle place near one of the columns of the great building and secured her raven's cue between slabs of stone.

Once the night was swallowed by marble and bright torchlight, Aea’s eyes swung around the rooms and walls they passed, looking for exit points and places to hide. It did not go unnoticed by her that this was, for all intents and purposes, very much a forbidden place. She liked things she wasn't supposed to have.

As she wandered deeper and deeper into the heart of the building, the quiet murmur of a collective flowed from some open area ahead. Aea's hand went to her waist, where she usually held her daggers, but instead she found her hand wrapped around the hilt of the sword she acquired from the slaver in Megaris. She'd branded his forehead and let him go, allowing him to think she was any creature of mercy.

She'd felt nothing when she cut his throat. It wasn't until later that she could feel anything again at all. And now she had his sword. A fair exchange for his crimes.

"No weapons in the chamber, my lady."

Her feet froze and left her standing beside a guard, nearly passing him altogether. Of course. Those gathered in celebration of a peace festival would not be armed. At least not where anyone could see. My lady. How funny. It was no matter, she had something much more lethal nestled between her legs. There was a decorum for entering this den of glittering gold, she was sure. What it was, she did not know, but while Aea of Nowhere in Particular may have hung back and calculated the best approach by observation, she was not Aea of Nowhere in Particular.

Wordlessly, she unbelted her sword and handed it to the guard. He took it from her and hung it upon a rather bare-looking rack, empty save for a few other blades.

Just like changing a tunic, she changed herself. Exchanged a mask of dirt and wide-eyed curiosity for one of clean skin and unknown interests. She changed her memories. Her father was not a dark-featured man with pitch scars and a crooked nose, but a hulking blonde behemoth who'd lost his right eye. He did not die last night upon a beach, he had died in his bed from a fever. Her mother was not unknown, just recently dead—a woman of the sands far south who'd fallen in love with the man who raided her father's trading vessel.

She was not an only child, but a third daughter. She was not nearing her eighteenth winter, but her twentieth. She had two hounds—Geri and Freki, as all her people named pup pairs. She rowed in a third seat from the inside, could recite the epics of her people, was partial to elk, and knew the battle formations—the most efficient being the feinted ambush. Who was Aea of Molossia, or of Nowhere in Particular? She'd never heard of the girl. She was Lillefjer Nattergal Omathditter, third-born of Omath Sølvfod Tågedalson, of the house Smadreansigt. She'd meant to visit the place of her mother's birth on a pilgrimage, but stopped in Colchis to resupply. She'd heard of the Peace Festival not a day before and, having made friends with the Princess that very night, decided to extend her visit to include another day. And funnily enough, nobody could pronounce her name, and so Lady Aidóni would do, or Lille if she was feeling particularly familiar.

Aea held back on a smile. It would not do to look like an eager fox entering a den of clucking hens. As she strode into the chamber and cast her eyes about, she leaned toward the princess with a coy smile that was not at all indicative that she was doubtful of her place here. "My friend, you'll have to tell me how it is your people arrange their places around these...what is the word for bord in your tongue? Tablette, no?"

It was part and parcel of the trick to appear much more clueless than she was, naturally, so she would let Asia correct her misidentification of a table and any other blunders whenever she made them, just as they discussed last night when Aea assumed all of this was only a joke. Really, it was like a game. The challenge was in seeing whether anybody could catch the play, and if they did, well...Lille would just have to become Aea and fade back into the unforgiving shadows of the wilderness once more.

Alexandros was comfortable among the nobility, as he had spent his entire life watching his father interact with them. He had learned well how to act properly and how to make himself appear as though he belonged. Though as a mercenary he had never had access to the court or to the fine dinners such as the one being held tonight. The fact that he was invited to attend had come as a mild surprise, but he supposed that he had the right to attend given his current standing. The impression he made would be of the utmost importance, so he spent a large amount of time cleansing and bathing his body that day, with the help of his slave and friend Leila. Once he was content with his cleanliness, he anointed his neck, wrists, and chest with a light amount of mint scented oil. With the bodily preparations finished, now came the time for his outfit. He chose his nicest chiton, one in the Doric fashion colored a dark red. He paired that with his white chalmys, which he pinned over his right shoulder with a broach that displayed his rank as captain. With all of the preparations finished, he finally made his way to the dinner.

He was forced to leave both of his swords at the door, which made him feel a bit uncomfortable, but he supposed that no weapons would help keep the peace during the meal. When he finally entered the great hall that had been prepared to host the dinner, he was amazed by the grandeur of the event. He spotted his commanding officer, and took the seat just on the other side of the woman who was beside him. This placed him between two beautiful women, although one held a stormy expression, and across from a man who appeared to be noble, but was prettier than any man should be. He took a moment and looked from the light haired beauty to his left to the scowling, but still lovely darker haired woman to his right. Yes, he had indeed found the most perfect of seats. The blonde spoke to Vangelis, so he turned to his right deciding that for now it might be best to catch the attention of the unknown woman seated there. He smiled warmly, trying to cut through her darkened disposition. “Hello!” He said in a pleasant voice. “What has your countenance down? Surely one cannot be disappointed with all of this finery. Wine, food, and the most attractive of attendees, with yourself being one of the most lovely here. I suppose I should introduce myself, I am Alexandros of Iraklidis, the Captain of Chaossis, and you, my lady, may I have the honor of your name?”