Rene completed her task of styling Kaia’s hair in its entirety before once more stepping back to further assess the end result. An elated smile worked its way over her lips as she absorbed the view, biting her lower lip in excitement. Before sidetracking, she found a few pieces of ribbon and a golden rope in the footlocker and took a hasty seat next to Kaia on the bench of the carriage, the three lengths held together on one end. “Okay before I forget, I’ll show you the first one, and the easiest to start off with,” she explained, setting the ribbons and rope on her thigh. “It’s the ‘over’ style. So you have three pieces, like so, and you take the outermost piece, on either side, and cross it down in front. Then the outermost piece on the opposite side, and cross it down in front. See?” Slowly she demonstrated the art of braiding, pulling the outside piece down and crossed in front, over and over again, alternating sides until it formed a weave pattern. “And you just keep doing this over and over, all the way down. Here, you try it,” she let the weave pattern fall loose and away, handing the makeshift practice strand to Kaia. “We aren’t finished yet. We’ve got one last thing to do.” Once more Rene slid from the seat and squatted down next to the trunk, looking about until she found what she was looking for.


‘Thank you, truly, I don’t even know what to say.’

Kaia’s forthcoming gratitude was not something Rene was entirely accustomed to receiving, as much time as she occupied as the resident wallflower, hardly noticed and watching from the outer circle. “You’re welcome,” she answered simply. She did not insert her opinion, or resort to preaching as Kaia owned her part in criminal activity. It was not something Rene personally understood, but she’d also never gone without, a single day in her life. She could not fathom having no readily available water, or food, or money. She could not imagine anything but sleeping in her own warm bed. It was not her place to condemn, nor did she want to. If anything, she averted her gaze to listen intently before sealing the conversation with an apology. “I’m sorry you have to do those things to survive.” What else was there to say? What stance should she take? One of superiority? Hardly. Rene had become far more invested in the underprivileged since meeting Ophelia of Condos several years ago, inspired by her charitable work. “You know, in Tangea, Ophelia of Condos, whom you met earlier today, is a very vocal advocate for humanitarian aid. I don’t have quite the political sway that she does, but she influenced the small work I have been able to do, mainly bread distribution. I am not certain about Colchis, but maybe these are additional options to procure food for your family, in which you do not have to endanger yourself via theft. Shop owners and vendors can be very dangerous when they are angry and their livelihood is threatened,” she offered, delicately as she could, lest Kaia misinterpret her intent.

Rene produced a few cases from the trunk and resumed her seat next to Kaia, except allowing a bit of space between them, just so she could turn to sit sideways and face the young woman. “Okay...last part. Can you turn towards me?” she asked. When Kaia inquired about the Athenian university, Rene merely smiled, but it was largely mirthless.

‘University? Did you attend?’

“I wish I could. A noble woman is only permitted to attend if she is married,” Rene answered, setting about mixing a small bit of charcoal and a drop of olive oil into a smooth ink. “But I have spent several semesters at the scholeío of the arts in Tangea, which always proves to be a wonderful experience. Okay...close your eyes and if you can, hold perfectly still,” Rene diverted the conversation for a preparatory instruction. “This is used to darken the eyes a bit, a liner. It’s just charcoal and olive oil,” she explained, using the ultra fine brush to trace perfect lines along the girl’s lash line of her upper eyelid. As an artist, Rene’s hands possessed the steadiness of a surgeon. When Kaia offered to teach her to fight, she concluded her very carefully applied eyeliner, and then sat back to look at her friend in wonderment.

‘It is. I could teach you. The trick is to know your strengths and never panic.’

“Teach me?” she repeated before giggling. “I do not think I would make a very capable fighter. I watch my brothers wrestle and mock fight, and they are very rough with each other, even in play. Strengths hm?” She’d have to think about that. Rene was aware she was rather small, the smallest person in every crowd she’d ever seen. It almost seemed exciting, to know how to defend oneself. But when Kaia reported her uses for such a skillset, and it did not involve humor, her expression darkened, mouth falling open in horror.

‘Often enough. A few weeks ago, Aea and I were attacked by slavers.’

“Someone attacked you?!” She could not wrap her head around such a thing. Why on earth should any turn a hand upon a woman. “Slavers?!” She struggled to wrap her pretty head around such a concept. “Where was your father? Master Cassero? Who played and sang so beautifully? Or the rest of your kin? It is very dangerous for girls to be out unattended it seems. Was that here? It wasn't in Athenia, was it?” If that was the case, she would have to speak with her cousin, Diomedes, the head of the Athenian guard. “I am so sorry such a thing transpired. I am glad for your fighting prowess though.”

Simply shocked that such could happen so readily, she diverted her attention further with mixing a bit of red iron oxide and beeswax to produce a thick balm, before once more looking to Kaia’s face. “Okay, open your mouth like this. ‘Ah!’,” Rene flashed a demonstration so that she could paint Kaia’s lips. “This will make your lips red, and will be shiny. It should last for quite a while,” she elaborated on the undertaking. Barring Kaia’s cooperation, Rene applied enough of the lacquer to draw attention to the girl’s lips, without appearing as a cheap harlot. Rene’s head canted as she looked over the work, lifting one finger. “Wait...it is not done yet…..I think….just the sheerest of powder….” she noted, finding azurite among the cases. With naught but the delicate daub of the tactile pad of a finger, she applied the most sheer dusting of faint blue over Kaia’s eyelids, accenting that of her gown. This time, when Rene looked her over, she squealed in excitement. “Masterpiece!” she squeaked before getting to her feet. “Okay...stand up,” she reached for Kaia’s hands to help her stand, and fished a looking glass from the trunk. “Are you ready?” she asked enthusiastically before offering her friend the mirror. “What do you think? You like?”

Much to the chagrin of Alexandros, neither Aea nor Kaia had made their return. Which left him sitting there with only the Athenian fop Asia seemed to be interested in across from him. The boy was far too pretty, and it was obvious that he had never seen real combat. Raised amongst her brothers, and she chooses this soft excuse for a man? Fierce as she is, she will eat him alive. Like a sheep meeting a wolf, he has no idea what he is getting into. He smirks as if he knows something the rest of us don’t, well I’m sure he’ll learn soon enough. Being pretty only gets one so far, charm will get you further, but, at the end of the day, there has to be some iron in you, and I don’t think he has any. The young officer smiled to himself as he observed the man. He took a drink from his cup and began to sample the fare that had been brought in his absence.

A new arrival caught his attention, though, drawing him away from the food. The youngest of the Drakos girls. He had seen her in passing at court. She looked a bit different tonight, however. Her gait was off and appeared rather strained; it was then that he was able to see the bandages across her leg. What happened to the little dragoness? She always seemed to be a feisty one, it seems that got best of her recently. A shame, perhaps someone should teach her how to better care for herself. The girl followed the normal patterns of behavior, speaking to her sister and then taking her seat. He watched as her eyes took in everyone at the table. I wonder what she is thinking about each of us. Can those eyes read true? I suppose there is only one way to know, to ask. His musings were interrupted as she downed her goblet of wine in one motion. Well now, that was unexpected. I wonder if she can keep up that pace. He smirked playfully as he turned his bright blue eyes fully towards her. “Easy there little Dragon, there is plenty of wine. We don’t want you to drink yourself out of the party too soon, now do we? One must be careful how much they drink after losing blood, it causes the wine to go to head faster.” Alexandros spoke from experience, but kept his smirk. His voice was a warm baritone, carrying easily down the table to her. [/I] I couldn’t have been much older than her when that arrow caught my leg. Gods that hurt. That next night I barely drank any wine, and I was stumbling like an idiot. I miss those days when things were simpler. [/I]

“Says the guy with a bleeding lip. How many have you put back?”

Alexandros laughed softly at her returned jab. His tongue quickly stuck out to his lip to ensure the bleeding was still stopped before he downed the rest of his cup. It still burned the cuts inside of his mouth. Damn you Aea for that cheap shot. I wanted to enjoy my drink for the night. He smiled to the young royal lady. “That one was number three. Nothing too extreme, though perhaps it will continue to grow if this party stays this way.” He said with a bit of a grimace. “Who knows though, perhaps some more intriguing company has just arrived, or she could be as dull as all the rest. As for this,” his hand reached up and touched the scab forming on his lip. “Well, let’s just say that there are a few here that share your penchant for a fire and aren’t afraid to show it.”

“And you are?”

The young officer gave a friendly smile at the question. “I am Alexandros son of Iraklidis, Captain of the Red Knights of Chaossis. What about you? And what caused your little mishap? You have me quite curious, I must admit.” He held his smile, hoping to force her to give some expression that wasn’t neutral or displeased. Hmm, this one is rather apathetic, isn’t she? Well let’s see if we can’t get her to open up. Let’s see if we can’t crack that shell of hers. Although perhaps I would be better off trying to fend off some wildcats than riling another woman up tonight. There is always a chance that Asia truly meant what she said, and I do like the life I have here, even if tonight has been feather full of frustrations.

Essa decided she must have hit her mark with her comment about his lip, as he immediately took to messing with it via lingual inspection, but seemingly unbothered beyond that as he took to polishing off his own goblet. His mannerism was one of smug informality, despite it being a more ‘uppity’ affair, making him stand out a bit among everyone else. He did not wear the look of one born to privilege and accustomed to resting in its laurels his entire life. He appeared more like one who’d worked hard, and thoroughly enjoyed reaping the full benefits of such effort.

‘That one was number three. Nothing too extreme, though perhaps it will continue to grow if this party stays this way. Who knows though, perhaps some more intriguing company has just arrived, or she could be as dull as all the rest. As for this.’

Well that was enlightening, on several fronts. First of all, it confirmed Essa’s suspicions that this dinner party was anything but droll, which she could tell upon entering when looking at Imeeya’s face. Additionally, he was challenging her, poking her a bit, as it were, insinuating she was possibly one more piece of a matched set of absolute dullards. Either that said much about those in attendance, or it said much about him. The single brunette amid her blonde mother and sister arched a manicured brow. His next statement lent itself to the latter; that the engaging young man had a certain way with people that they didn’t necessarily approve of.

‘Well, let’s just say that there are a few here that share your penchant for a fire and aren’t afraid to show it.’

“Well you are in Colchis, sir. If there is any kingdom in all of the Grecian realm where the fires of bellicosity burn the hottest, it would be here,” she replied nonchalantly, resisting the urge to get worked up over any of his attempts to test her waters and instigate a reaction.

‘I am Alexandros son of Iraklidis, Captain of the Red Knights of Chaossis. What about you? And what caused your little mishap? You have me quite curious, I must admit.’

Now that was surprising. She’d pegged him for a foreigner, the member of Athenia or Tangea’s forces. But no….he was very much in the employ of Colchis. A small smile lifted the corners of Essa’s ruddy lips. She went from drumming her fingernails on the table top to holding her goblet aloft to draw the attentions of one of the servants, that he or she should come about to replenish that which she’d vanquished. “Well, well, well. In the service of the Kotas, more specifically, my cousin Vangelis. Let me guess; killing is your business. And business has been good.” Maybe that is why he appeared otherwise bored. These sorts of social gatherings must have been tedious compared to the scene around the campfire of military camp. Then again, he had a fresh shiner on his lip. Clearly he’d done a bit of mouthing off. Looking at him, it failed to surprise Essa one single bit.

“I am Essa. Of House Drakos, and I have the distinct pleasure of being Princess Tythra’s spawn,” she noted, jerking her chin to the opposite end of the table where Tythra sat, flanked on either side by kings Minas and Zenon respectively. But she dare not look in her mother’s direction, lest Tythra’s razor sharp gaze come flying down to their end, as if she’d somehow felt that she was being watched. “Don’t look,” she added quickly, and quietly. “One should never make eye contact with a gorgon, Captain Alexandros.”

When the subject of Essa’s injury came up, her bemused facade fell into ruin. Disdain replaced diversion. With an obviously salty expression, Essa huffed, and took a healthy draw of her newly replenished goblet. How did one recount such a humiliating experience to a total stranger. Carefully she surveyed Yiannis next to her in her periphery should he be idly tuned in and holding his tongue over the event. He seemed preoccupied with conversing with the smarmy Athenian, to which Essa chewed at the inside of her lip and contemplated the best course of action here. “As it turns out, swords are quite sharp,” she said with a completely believable shrug. “Who knew.”

Alexandros, to his credit, seemed tuned to buoyancy despite potentially austere topics, which oddly fascinated Essa. Usually her ability to vex those around her was undefeated, but the saucy captain seemed to harbor masochistic inclinations, not only rolling with the punches, but rather enjoying it. Who else but a man like that would attend a fancy dinner party featuring a room full of blue bloods and figure out some way to get into a brawl.

‘Yes, yes, that is the truth. We Colchians do enjoy a good fight. Some more than others, and some of us. Can’t get enough, can we? We’ll fight anywhere, anytime.’

“Clearly,” Essa remarked, breaking off a small bit of bread and dipping it in her wine before placing it in her mouth. “It takes special talent to skirmish at a formal event. That is commendable, though a word of caution to this tale; these people may not appear as formidable an enemy as those the captain customarily faces, but do not be fooled as they are no less dangerous. They may not appear outfitted for the battlefield, but it in no way means they are less deadly. In fact, possibly more so as they are wolves in sheep’s clothing,” Essa advised him quietly. “At least in war, you know who your allies and who your enemies are. Here…..not so much.” To that end, Essa sipped her wine. She may not frequent court more than absolutely necessary, but she was born to this life. She knew the game and she knew the players. She knew the ins-and-outs, the warning signs and white flags.

‘You are right, death is my business. One I am quite good at. Of course, when you start as a child you tend to be rather skilled in whatever business it is, yes? As for how good business is, well, it is decent enough. A bit too quiet if you asked me, and not just because of the peace. Though I should not complain, being able to stay at home and train my troops has been good, but I could do with some action. I’m growing tired of paperwork, perhaps you can understand such feelings? Being caged up?’

“Perhaps we are not so different in that regard,” Essa noted. “You are accustomed to one type of combat, and I another.” As the captain lamented the more quiet lifestyle afforded by peace, Essa’s brown eyes moved towards him, a lopsided smile replacing the more stringent manifestation over her young face, her dark hair a resplendent contrast to her alabaster complexion. “Paperwork does sound incredibly boring.” Being caged up. That struck a chord in Essa, essentially a rendition of a slave, consigned a life not of her choosing, held to a standard not of her liking, and perpetually crucified for falling short. “Yes,” she answered quietly, her airy disposition momentarily vanishing. “I do understand.”


‘I am pleased to have made your acquaintance, Essa of House Drakos. I would like to say that I may have seen you at court before, but such affairs are always so chaotic that I could be mistaken.’

“Indeed they are. I avoid court as much as I am permitted to do so,” Essa answered. “It is a ghastly affair, really. For only so long am I able stomach watching the duplicity of those who, unfortunately, hold influence on the nation." It was brutal honesty on Essa's part, as she hardly found politics a tasteful affair, and the hands submerged in the pot were often the most undesirable. Such a topic alone was enough to sour her constitution, but strangely, Alexandros became rather serious as he next spoke.


“I am going to offer some advice that you did not ask for, so forgive
me if I overstep. Some people would do anything to have a moment longer
with a parent, perhaps you should appreciate your mother while she is
still here.”


Initially, the advisory was met with confusion before she stiffened at the idea of Alexandros coming to her mother's defense. Without missing a beat, Essa leaned forward a bit, her budding face looking equally as humorless. "Bold of you to assume that your definition of parent is applicable to all others," she retorted working hard to keep her words less sharp than usual. "I very much doubt the captain's upbringing is in any way similar to mine, but I do thank him for his council." It was hard for Essa to refrain from unleashing hostility on the man, as her tendency was wired for such. But with tight lips, she said the most cordial thing she could think of, and left it at that.



'My father would have said that sarcasm was the lowest form of wit,
but he was quick to use it and so am I. Swords are quite sharp, a very
important lesson to be learned. The next most important being to stick the other guy with the pointy end.'


Alexandros was wise enough to deliver his next barb in a humorous vein. There was only so much casual insult Essa was willing to tolerate before she had something to say about it, but fortunately, the officer was not so pretentious to think himself exempt from folly. "My dear Alexandros. Sarcasm is a perfectly acceptable way of insulting someone without their knowledge of it," Essa countered plainly. "I am fairly certain that makes it one of the highest forms of wit." Hardened by combat of a different sort, Essa was quite apt at word play.


'I appreciate your humor at the affair, but what I like even more is that you’ve got some fire in your belly. If you wish to learn the blade, then I am willing to teach you. There are few better with the sword than I, and plenty have died that thought otherwise. You should be able to defend yourself, the world is dangerous, even for a dragon.'


Now this was something. Something that made Essa's face go ashen, her expression sober. No. Not sober. Beyond sober. One of terror. "I am aware," she said, tone dropping. It was not something she'd spoken of, even to her own family. She'd merely told them she'd gotten lost in the woods, unable to discuss the events she'd seen that day at the old fort, too horrified to try to describe what had transpired, and far too afraid at the perpetrators would know if she did, eager to finish what they'd started. Gazing up towards the officer, she ruminated on learning the craft, more than just imitating forms and movements as she had in her room, hoping no one would find her. Defending herself. How did one do that against enemies like the ones she encountered that day, months back, that haunted her nightmares and even her waking moments. How did one triumph above such evil.

Aea had come to realize through both Alexandros and Lord Stelios that she was completely out of her depth and playing with fire. She knew that before, but she did not quite comprehend the seriousness of the situation. Had it not been for Stelios explaining the ramifications of coming back wearing blood, Aea might have been the cause of Alexandros losing his position.

She hadn’t known. She hadn’t known it wasn’t alright for men and women to fight—her being a female had never excused her from violence before. She didn’t know. Every time someone had refused her a fight, or looked less than pleased, or said they didn’t want to harm her, she thought it was because she was shorter than they were. Not that she was a female. It didn’t make sense. She had hands and feet, she could move and take pain, she could give it. If she could physically do it, why wasn’t she supposed to?

She thought disagreements were settled with physical competition, stress and anger released when blood was drawn. She thought it was acceptable, normal, expected. How was she to know? How did these people operate if not as such? Surely not just words. Her father said Colchians don’t bother with them, and although her family moved and lived in every kingdom, they were all born here. Her actions should be acceptable. She went after Alexandros first, punched him twice. He only got her in the stomach while the bench grated the flesh of her arm. It was just a scratch, for fuck's sake. 

It was maddening, this world. And although she hadn’t thought overmuch about whether she’d only been angry or if she’d been serious about her personal, private assertion, now the prospect of military work began to look more and more tempting. She loathed being told she couldn’t do something and a childish need to ignore all else in favor of doing what she liked in spite flared hot. If females weren’t ‘supposed’ to have business in violence, then she assumed females weren’t ‘supposed’ to manage units of men, much less an army.

Perhaps it was arrogance that fueled her determination, the laughable prospect that she, an illiterate female with not even a roof to call her own, could prove herself worthy enough to take such a lofty responsibility upon her shoulders. There were certain requirements of the general, standards to pass, steps to take, and she would be both vain and delusional to think she could meet them.

Uncle Agolois might have laughed and called her a dreamer, but she wasn’t. Dreamers dreamed, doers executed. Nothing was impossible, only highly improbable. The trick was to find a way to skew that percentage of probability more to her side. She would find a way, at the sacrifice of all other things and by the blood of Athena, she would. And if she failed, which was likely, at least she didn't cave into weakness and give up.

Lord Stelios finished explaining the idea of the ‘fairer sex’ and Aea stood silently in the dark hallway for a moment, her mind turning and tossing his words like a hundred tiny spinning wheels weaving a hundred tiny threads. She wanted to go through the chamber and dull herself to the judgmental eyes that would pass over her because she was more than aware that she had a problem with shame, but she also did not want to make a man lose his position because of her personal need to endure an exercise in humiliation for the sake of beginning the process of conditioning herself against it.

The idea of being judged unfavorably was more frightening to her than most things. It was one of the many methods by which she could be controlled. She didn’t like it. She wanted to get rid of it. Now she would simply have to come up with a different way to rid herself of the flaw. Even if she and Alexandros had not come to a wordless agreement of sorts—which was exactly why physicality was useful as a first method of disagreement, not a last—she still wasn’t enough of a vindictive cunt to go the distance and make herself a threat to his livelihood.

The more she used underhanded methods and dishonesty to gain an advantage or present herself, the less likely it was that she could ever prove to the powers that be to give her—or any female—a fighting chance to prove what they could do when they did not need such tools. Whether it simply be a happy marriage or singular ruler, her underestimated sex would be judged by the actions of each member of the group. Nobody would trust her next to them in a fight if she lied to them; if anything, they might assume her to be working for the enemy and slaughter her before she had a chance to execute a betrayal.

If she ever had girl-children, she would want them to be born into a fair world where the thing between their legs did not necessarily dictate what they could and could not do. This, she believed in as a noble endeavor, this she could strive for. And if at the end of her life she did all that she could in this regard, then she would be at least mildly content to be done with this mortal realm.

If she was going to do anything at all, it would behoove her to settle on what and how, and more importantly integrate herself into civilization at large. A place that demanded a forthcoming tongue and controlled reactions in measures. Honesty was against her nature. Honesty was never something she had the privilege of using. She was not honest to anyone save herself and Kaia. The closest she had come to honesty was, ironically, Alexandros when she’d lost her temper, and even then it had been a very mild thing.

“Alright, I’ll go through the back,” Aea said.

Lord Stelios insisted on escorting her and rather than stand there and argue with him, Aea shrugged and walked through the hallway once more. Through the rear doors, around the building, and to the carriages they went. It was a quiet walk, Aea lost in thought and her blonde shadow seemingly content to do no more than follow her. Before, she might not have understood why he was insistent, but now everything was clicking into place and making a modicum of sense.

If females didn’t fight, then they were vulnerable to attack. Like helpless children, they could not be allowed outside at night without the protection of a man because that was their only means of protection. Pride dictated Aea send Stelios back inside. Frustrated apathy cared not where he went. Genteel consideration thought it a kind gesture. Curiosity asked that he stayed and demonstrated. In all cases, Aea allowed his presence with not another word of protest.

They arrived at the resting area, dozens of horses attached to shafts and dressed in the finery of the houses in attendance, footmen congregating around a water trough and leaning against the long stone receptacle as if it were a bench. When Aea and Lord Stelios materialized from the columns beyond, they moved to stand at attention. Like they weren’t allowed to relax when nobility was afoot.

Aea's eyes wandered over them, curious and prodding. None of them met her gaze and so she looked away.

There were so many carriages, all manner of color and marking denoting them to one owner or another. It seemed strange to her, such a sight as that, such a stark contrast to the wagons and carts she’d seen traveling the roads.

Boxy and marked with the Kotas crescent, Asia’s vehicle was not hard to spot. Yellow torchlight danced across the pristine white paint and flickered as little balls of gold. Aea advanced toward the carriage and raised her knuckles to rap upon the door in case Kaia was still inside, but her fist halted halfway through its journey when the gentle swell of conversation became plain through the wood.

Kaia was indeed still getting dressed and, presumably, Lady Rene was with her.

Aea dropped her arm, her face heating at the prospect. Slowly, she stepped away from the carriage and leaned against the one next to it. She’d been hoping that Lady Rene wouldn’t recognize her, or pay enough attention that it would be a concern, but Aea's hopes were rendered null the minute the Lady saw Kaia.

Few things in this world were more daunting than seeing disappointment and distrust on the face of an admired party. Aea would rather avoid it at all costs, and cowardly as it was, she would prefer disregard over a frown. How did one even go about speaking to a relative stranger after being caught doing something wrong?

She did not know if she could interact with the petite blonde without her nerves swallowing her voice and her resolve shaking to something unsure and thin, and that was before Rene recognized Kaia. Now, there was an additional question of protocol for apologizing to someone Aea couldn’t even manage to look at. Greeting Rene as Aea would normally greet anybody seemed an impossible task. Did hello come first, or an apology? Why was speaking so fucking difficult at some times, and so natural the next? It was irritating. Inconvenient.

Aea exhaled and rested her head on the back of the white carriage. She never thought she was temperamental. Perhaps it was only tonight. Her mood was less than ideal, her patience running thin. Maybe she was temperamental and had simply never been tested when the threat of brutality wasn’t hanging over her head.

Emotionally volatile, stressed, confused, and overwhelmed, as usual, Aea was a walking recipe for disaster with poor impulse control, easily swayed opinions, and vast ignorance in the correct way to proceed. There was a balance, she was sure, perhaps with her father gone she could relax enough to find it.

She didn’t know, it had only been less than a day since she had the opportunity to understand who she was without her father in the world. He’d been such a focus all her life, and given how few people she had to focus on to begin with, that meant he’d been a large fraction of who she was since she could capture a memory.

Aea pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut with a small sigh. Stelios, still with her, at least had the good sense to leave her to her thoughts. She needed to parse through them, preferably alone, but silent company would do if he would not leave.

What the fuck was she doing?

Losing her damned mind, apparently.

There were too many new things to contend with here. She was straining to keep her thoughts far away from her father while juggling lies and masks among an alien world that she could not quite understand all at once. There were rules she wasn’t familiar with, expectations, etiquette for behavior, and although she used intuitive knowledge to guide her in most instances, intuition could only stretch so far when she had nothing to compare any of this to.

When was the last time she’d felt calm and content enough to unclench her ass and just exist? Certainly not any time recently, certainly not in the chamber. If she kept going as she was at this rate, she would have a true meltdown instead of just a bout of hysterics.

This was not her. She was not in the right mindframe for this. Asia had called it a game, but Aea was neither comfortable nor well-versed enough to play it at the moment. Perhaps if it were truly a question of a few laughs, perhaps if Aea understood the rules of this world more, perhaps if she could just take a breath…

Perhaps Aea could have gone in and acted as she liked without worry for ramifications if she really were a foreign dignitary with power and wealth enough to fling around as a defense. Asia said she would protect Aea if there was trouble, and Aea believed the princess meant well, but she just could not trust somebody else telling her everything was fine. She had to be able to make it fine by herself before she felt secure. Somebody assuring her they would protect her was nice, and she would accept that fully if only she felt as if she could defend herself if the first layer of security failed.

She could leave right now. Just disappear into the Midas crowds and drift to the exit of the city and go home. It really was an exercise in trust to go back inside. Trust that Asia was truly able to get her out of arrest and that it wasn’t the wishful thinking of a girl who didn’t have to worry about prison. Trust in herself that she could make it through without acting on instincts that were not appropriate for this place, these people, and this situation.

Even Aea was not self-destructive enough to pile more confusion on top of her current stress levels. The ‘fun’ was taken out of the ‘game’ when Aea had no basis for reference and began clawing at assumptions when she had nothing else. It was a stupid idea to plunge in head-first somewhere she didn’t belong without watching how others did it first.

She could race ahead without worry to caution when she wasn’t playing a game with something that was actually dangerous. The near-ramifications of ruining Alexandros’ reputation and career over a little fucking scratch were testament to that.

Alexandros...what a confusing man. Aea did not know how to integrate the information he had given her, nor the conflicting considerations he gave her.

Now, everything she’d been taught might be subject to questioning.

On the one hand, Aea should dislike and distrust Alexandros. On the other, she didn’t on a personal level. He hadn’t hit her in anger, though she’d deserved it for lying to him. He didn’t take advantage of her weakness when she just gave up on the hold, though she wouldn’t have cared at the time if he had. He had talked to her like a child when he had not earned any position of authority to do so, and she disliked that intensely, but outside of that he seemed like any normal person when she stopped micro-analyzing him.

He wasn’t cruel. He’d indulged her...meltdown. Even his response to Panos had been reasonable once she understood his motivation. The slave issue was...confusing and not something she currently wanted to visit because what in the seven fucks did ‘need it for sexual gratification’ even mean?

Aea had done everything incorrectly, hunkered into survival mode and stayed there when it was unneeded. Alexandros was not trying to harm Kaia’s psyche, much less kill her. There was no need to take such care to pull everything she could out of him to neutralize a threat. He wasn’t a threat. Nobody in the building was a serious danger outside of the harm they could impose upon Aea, but it was not the harm she was so acutely paranoid of.

The knee to the balls...she would not take that back. The action had been in a blinding white anger, but the choices she made on a conscious level? All wrong. Somewhere along the way, she didn’t know when, she’d lost sight of what she meant to do and snapped at Alexandros before she snapped in truth and then teetered between hysterics and laughter. She didn’t like being so out of control. It was fucking embarrassing.

Whether Kaia gave Alexandros another chance or not was up to Kaia, and Kaia alone.

Always, Aea had been told to watch out for Kaia, that slavers would want to steal her and every man she met would want to hurt her. Her family had told her this all her life, but her family had been wrong. Aea hadn't realized it, but she'd been looking at every man as if he were a hungry monster out to take the person she was supposed to protect. 

But the more she thought about it, the more she realized that she had no proof of that assertion. They'd lied to Aea, or maybe they truly thought Kaia was in danger of the world. In any case, they were wrong. 

Alexandros was just a man, and Aea did not have to defend anyone against him because he was not trying to hurt anyone. It was a simple matter of some lofty complexity that Aea had not the understanding or the curiosity to explore. No more, no less. 

Anything having to do with Alexandros was minimal and mild. Anything having to do with him was in Kaia’s hands, for this was Kaia’s decision and her path to forge, Aea could only be there to hand her a blade and wipe away the blood when she stumbled.

Alexandros was not a serious situation. He was not a threat. Over and over, Aea kept running the same realization over and over in her head until the man had transformed from a salivating monster into a flesh-and-bone mortal in her mind.

Aea's understanding of the world shifted, if just a small bit. Just a mortal. All men were. Next time Kaia wanted to fuck one, Aea would not have to be close to make sure her cousin wasn't killed in the process.

Fucking relieving was what it was. How stupid she'd been. How utterly trusting of the things she thought she knew of civilized people.  

Civilization was nothing like what she’d been taught. Not everyone was out to kill them, not everyone was inherently terrible and hiding it behind a smile. Alexandros was not evil incarnate, he just liked bedding women...unless.

No. Face value. This place, these people, were not animals. Nobody was in danger. Nobody was trying to hurt anybody. This was not a serious situation, it was supper. She’d eaten supper every day of her life, and at no point had it ever been a lethal affair.

What did being out of survival mode look like? Could Aea do that? Asia said to behave, and she thought she had been, but now she was not so sure. She was not supposed to pick fights with people—duly noted. She was not supposed to assume everyone was out to fuck her over. She could maybe do that. Drink and have fun, Alexandros said, but what was fun? Truly and actually.

It was surely not sitting still at a dinner where she felt stifled on her words. How nice it would be to look Panos dead in the eye and tell him to kiss her peasant ass without being cut down. Or talk about transmigration and music without worrying about revealing her lack of education. Or ask Alexandros to finish his story. Or ask Rene if she was angry at her. Or do a million other things besides censor herself and worry about creating a social faux pas.

Aea was not demure save for when she got a good beating, and she supposed where Lady Rene was concerned. Outside of that, it was just not in her to stay still and not think and not say what she was thinking. It got her in trouble more often than not, but when had she ever been in complete agreement with any of her uncles at once?

This was not her.

Asia was not even sitting at the table anymore. So, the question remained...what was she doing here?

Drink, fight, have fun. Apparently strike out the fighting part, but drink and have fun all the same. Was this fun? No. So why did she want to go back there regardless of it not being fun?

She dropped her hand away from her face. People. She wanted to be around people. Preferably people that she didn’t have to clench her ass around, but any people would do at this point. Aea could behave, she could be still, she could understand that there was nothing dangerous and in need of her. Just by the fucking Gods, she did not want to go home and be around the same people she’d been around all her life. She would go mad.

This was the worst idea. Her place was in a kitchen or a cellar. Not at a table. This was a stupid idea. These were not her people. She was going to regret this if she went in, she was absolutely certain.

No. It would be fine. Asia said she would get Aea out of trouble if she ran into it, and despite every instinct screaming for Aea to doubt her own safety in the hands of another person, she forced the anxiety from her mind and pushed away from the carriage. If Asia’s promise was not concrete, then Aea would deserve any punishment she got for going against her instincts to coat herself in invisible barbs and contingency plans.

She would go in and not have any contingency plan at all. Not one. She would go in, scarf down as much food as she could, find some gold, then take Kaia drinking as she’d promised. Perhaps she would steal Asia to keep them company as well. The girl owed her a trip to the tavern, after all, and here was an opportunity to insist upon equal payment.

Aea had gone into Asia’s world to poke around, despite the danger. Now, for the sake of fairness, Asia would come to hers.

Slowly, she raised her fist to knock on the carriage door. She began to make a plan for what she might say or do should Lady Rene pop out first, but then banished the idea. Normal. Relaxed. Unconcerned with what might come next. No overthinking. Aea could do those things. What she could not do was hold a calm mood when she was getting hungrier by the minute and the blood crusting against her skin was beginning to irritate.

Eat quickly. Don’t speak unless spoken to. Pay attention to the world outside, not inside. Watch and learn. Daunting, but not impossible. She was a thief, she did not belong here, but she could do this.

Alexandros in no way failed to grasp what drollery he could as he danced about the flames of court politics. In fact, he seemed to enjoy the challenge of it, sliding about like a recluse and tempting the fury of Greece’s most powerful, as if a dangerous sport he enjoyed. His brand of arrogance was different than that of every other high-brow. It was most curious.

‘Does that commendation come with a medal or a reward of some kind?’

Motivated by reward it seemed. Well that was terribly predictable, but Essa was willing to nourish. It took substantial gonads to defy the most powerful people across three kingdoms, and Alexandros took it in stride as if he were invulnerable. Perhaps that is why he’d not been ousted immediately for his obliquity. Such brazen was a useful, if not foolish, trait to have, but presumably the man had not achieved the rank he had by making poor choices or the consumptive costing of lives. Essa regarded him with a small smirk before removing a pendant from her creamy neck, and handed it across the table. The pendant featured a polished dragon, the very same from the crest of House Drakos. “Your medal, Captain.” His mirth yielded to indignation as he cast his eyes about the room momentarily, his tone salty.

‘I’m afraid I’ve discovered that well enough on my own this evening. Would that you could have warned me an hour or so ago. Perhaps I would have spoken less and smiled more. I’m afraid the fight that split my lip was the less interesting one for tonight. Perhaps some time I will tell you what really happened, despite whatever else may be said.’

Upon admission of his errors, Essa plucked a single olive from her plate and slid into her mouth, smiling all the while. “It is too bad I missed the action, but surely a man of the military would know better? Only fools rush in where angels fear to tread, Alexandros. This landscape is navigated no differently than any other you intend to do battle upon; by ascertaining the layout, the high grounds, adequate cover, potential points of ambush….These wars may be different than those to which you are accustomed to fighting, but they are not without their roots in basic strategy. You seem a clever man. Let not your pride overshadow your intelligence.” Drawing similarities came extraordinarily easy in the conversation, as it was so to speak with the man. His nose was not so high that he could not see past it, adopting a more whimsical mentality and manner.

‘I suppose that is fair enough, both of us have been groomed from early age for something by our parent.’

It might have been odd that he used the singular form of parent instead of the plural, perhaps an effort on his part to find additional common ground. "Who raised you? Your father or mother?" If they weren't in Colchis, she would have naturally assumed his father had raised him, but in this kingdom, more women knew the way of the sword, even in an unofficial capacity. The absence of her father was a sore spot for Essa. She never knew him. They’d never met. Imeeya had, as she was a young child when their father departed to serve. Perhaps that was part of Essa’s envy of her sister. She’d had the benefit of knowing the man, at least having some memory of him. Essa had no real knowledge of him, as their mother never spoke of him. She’d kept locked safe inside of herself what she believed him to be like, a loving father, brave and clever, who loved her very much. It could have been pure fantasy, or dyed-in-the-wool truth. Impossible to know. Instead, she’d grown with only her mother, who’s efforts went to keeping her place in the court, and molding Imeeya into the next Drakos to rule. Then again, that was likely a blessing in disguise, especially as Alexandros spoke to the unmitigated boredom of paperwork and orchestrating business affairs and submitting reports and all that such nonsense. Essa’s attention did not remain long when mired in dull preoccupations like administrivia and scut work. She could only agree with him on such a point.

‘Almost dull enough to kill. If those barbarians could read we could just ship paperwork north and be done with them, but that would be far less exciting, wouldn’t it?’

“If only,” Essa ruminated. “Perhaps in that regard, they are superior. Their’s is a civilization without the doldrums of bureaucracy, isn’t it. If something requires action, it is acted upon, maybe after discussion by a council of elders or something. No senate votes, no squabbles. There is some appeal to a more simplistic approach, than that which we choose to gum up with our own trappings.”

‘Ah, damn, I should think before I speak more. I didn’t consider how tightly watched you must be. Hopefully you won’t hold it against me. My men need honesty, but the truth is rarely pure, never simple, and rarely wanted in politics.’

With a plentiful sampling of wine, Essa offered the barest makings of a smile and merely shook her head. “Your assessment is not inaccurate. In any count. I do not like to be watched, and I take leave from it as much as I can. Though it is far easier to do for me than it is for my sister, as she is primary. Her presence is always required. Left to my own devices largely, I enjoy other activities than standing at attention with a tight face and an even tighter backside,” she confessed.

But when Essa mildly derailed his diatribe about parenting, the man’s composure did a complete one-eighty. The airiness he’d employed since the start of the conversation had been snuffed out in the blink of an eye and replaced with cold condemnation, like lividity brewing just below the surface.

‘The captain has a name- one he has told you-, and he would prefer it to be used. While his upbringing may have differed drastically from that of the Lady, she should know that she is welcome for his council.’

It actually surprised Essa, as she was hardly expecting animosity to come across the table, not entirely sure what she’d done other than politely declining unsolicited advice. Rather disturbingly his charm disintegrated as he lambasted her about………….his name? That was it? Essa’s expression likewise matched, going from one of easiness to one of bewilderment, and then one of irritation. “My my……Captain…..” she said slowly, and threw in his rank once more just to chap his ass a little. “I meant no offense. It is merely an alternate form of address,” she said evenly, cocoa pools burning hot towards him in a warning of her own. “You provided your name, and also made the effort to provide your rank. I assumed, apparently incorrectly, that you offered both as acceptable forms of greeting and discourse. If you preferred I address you in a more informal vein, that was all you had to say,” she snorted a light admonishment, polishing off her second goblet of wine. “Unwittingly, you have exposed a great weakness in yourself, and one that saw fit to sour your mood in its entirety, something that could be used against you.” Essa leaned forward slightly to eliminate any question of the severity she herself applied. “Such an inflammatory button is best not offered to thine enemy, Alexandros. Alex.” She tossed out an abbreviated version of his name, and found it rather likeable.

Then it was his turn to overturn the applecart of her decorum with his comments of lurking dangers in the world. Just as quickly as he’d turned to aggression, he turned back, offering himself once more in tutelage.

‘Good, that means I don’t have to worry about convincing you of the threat. When and where would you like to begin your lessons? Court could perhaps serve as a meeting ground, if you would like?’

Her younger face eyed him warily, chewing once more at the inside of her lip, mentally in absentia. She mulled over the proposal, almost struggling to ascertain if he was being serious. “You are not making jest of this?” she clarified, imagining herself, swinging a sword most expertly, a force to be reckoned with, a dragon.