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It had been mere days since the debacle in the Senate, and Circenia hadn’t been able to bring herself to even look at her son, much less speak with him. In fact, she’d hardly spoken at all, tight-lipped with anger everywhere she went. Everything they had, everything they were… their wealth, their lands, their very nobility… stripped from them in seconds, all over her son’s idiotic mistake.
She wanted desperately to believe it wasn’t true, that the accusations levelled against him were nothing more than the jealous lies of a selfish girl. However, even with a mother’s doting blindness, she knew in her heart of hearts that he was just as guilty as they accused him of being. Elias was an ambitious man, who, like his parents, would stop at nothing to get his way. The princess wasn’t even angry about what he’d done, not really. There were always casualties when it came to this sort of thing.
No, she was angry because he hadn’t told her first.
Circenia was a cunning woman. She always had been, even as a child. Her entire life had been spent learning how to bend others to her will. Had he consulted her, told her what he planned to do, she could have advised him on the proper course of action. Such as… not sending a damn letter. How could he be so utterly stupid as to put any of his plan on paper? Hadn’t she taught him better than that? No one, absolutely no one was to be trusted, not ever! The world was full of liars and power-hungry fools… the only way to defeat them was to be better at it. A lesson her son had obviously failed to learn.
Had there been no physical evidence of what he’d done, they could have talked or even bought their way out of it. After all, what was some pirate’s word against the word of a Stravos? With nothing to back up his claims, they could have discredited him entirely. But to put evidence in his gods-be-damned hands?! Circenia couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so furious. If ever.
Rising from her bed in the very early hours of the morning after yet another sleepless night, she glanced over to make sure her husband was still asleep. Keikelius seemed to be out of it, so Circenia stayed quiet, hastily wrapping herself in the nearest article of clothing she could find. Creeping carefully across the floor, she let herself out of the room. Enough was enough. She had to confront Elias and learn the truth of it herself.
It wasn’t a very long walk before she arrived at her son’s door, stopping and taking a deep breath. Don’t let yourself lose it. Remember, above all, he is your son. Closing her eyes for a brief moment, she straightened up and let herself inside, closing the door behind her.
“Elias, wake up,” Circenia called into the scant light of the bedchamber, though she couldn’t imagine Elias was sleeping any better than she had. “It’s time we had a talk.”
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It had been mere days since the debacle in the Senate, and Circenia hadn’t been able to bring herself to even look at her son, much less speak with him. In fact, she’d hardly spoken at all, tight-lipped with anger everywhere she went. Everything they had, everything they were… their wealth, their lands, their very nobility… stripped from them in seconds, all over her son’s idiotic mistake.
She wanted desperately to believe it wasn’t true, that the accusations levelled against him were nothing more than the jealous lies of a selfish girl. However, even with a mother’s doting blindness, she knew in her heart of hearts that he was just as guilty as they accused him of being. Elias was an ambitious man, who, like his parents, would stop at nothing to get his way. The princess wasn’t even angry about what he’d done, not really. There were always casualties when it came to this sort of thing.
No, she was angry because he hadn’t told her first.
Circenia was a cunning woman. She always had been, even as a child. Her entire life had been spent learning how to bend others to her will. Had he consulted her, told her what he planned to do, she could have advised him on the proper course of action. Such as… not sending a damn letter. How could he be so utterly stupid as to put any of his plan on paper? Hadn’t she taught him better than that? No one, absolutely no one was to be trusted, not ever! The world was full of liars and power-hungry fools… the only way to defeat them was to be better at it. A lesson her son had obviously failed to learn.
Had there been no physical evidence of what he’d done, they could have talked or even bought their way out of it. After all, what was some pirate’s word against the word of a Stravos? With nothing to back up his claims, they could have discredited him entirely. But to put evidence in his gods-be-damned hands?! Circenia couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so furious. If ever.
Rising from her bed in the very early hours of the morning after yet another sleepless night, she glanced over to make sure her husband was still asleep. Keikelius seemed to be out of it, so Circenia stayed quiet, hastily wrapping herself in the nearest article of clothing she could find. Creeping carefully across the floor, she let herself out of the room. Enough was enough. She had to confront Elias and learn the truth of it herself.
It wasn’t a very long walk before she arrived at her son’s door, stopping and taking a deep breath. Don’t let yourself lose it. Remember, above all, he is your son. Closing her eyes for a brief moment, she straightened up and let herself inside, closing the door behind her.
“Elias, wake up,” Circenia called into the scant light of the bedchamber, though she couldn’t imagine Elias was sleeping any better than she had. “It’s time we had a talk.”
It had been mere days since the debacle in the Senate, and Circenia hadn’t been able to bring herself to even look at her son, much less speak with him. In fact, she’d hardly spoken at all, tight-lipped with anger everywhere she went. Everything they had, everything they were… their wealth, their lands, their very nobility… stripped from them in seconds, all over her son’s idiotic mistake.
She wanted desperately to believe it wasn’t true, that the accusations levelled against him were nothing more than the jealous lies of a selfish girl. However, even with a mother’s doting blindness, she knew in her heart of hearts that he was just as guilty as they accused him of being. Elias was an ambitious man, who, like his parents, would stop at nothing to get his way. The princess wasn’t even angry about what he’d done, not really. There were always casualties when it came to this sort of thing.
No, she was angry because he hadn’t told her first.
Circenia was a cunning woman. She always had been, even as a child. Her entire life had been spent learning how to bend others to her will. Had he consulted her, told her what he planned to do, she could have advised him on the proper course of action. Such as… not sending a damn letter. How could he be so utterly stupid as to put any of his plan on paper? Hadn’t she taught him better than that? No one, absolutely no one was to be trusted, not ever! The world was full of liars and power-hungry fools… the only way to defeat them was to be better at it. A lesson her son had obviously failed to learn.
Had there been no physical evidence of what he’d done, they could have talked or even bought their way out of it. After all, what was some pirate’s word against the word of a Stravos? With nothing to back up his claims, they could have discredited him entirely. But to put evidence in his gods-be-damned hands?! Circenia couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so furious. If ever.
Rising from her bed in the very early hours of the morning after yet another sleepless night, she glanced over to make sure her husband was still asleep. Keikelius seemed to be out of it, so Circenia stayed quiet, hastily wrapping herself in the nearest article of clothing she could find. Creeping carefully across the floor, she let herself out of the room. Enough was enough. She had to confront Elias and learn the truth of it herself.
It wasn’t a very long walk before she arrived at her son’s door, stopping and taking a deep breath. Don’t let yourself lose it. Remember, above all, he is your son. Closing her eyes for a brief moment, she straightened up and let herself inside, closing the door behind her.
“Elias, wake up,” Circenia called into the scant light of the bedchamber, though she couldn’t imagine Elias was sleeping any better than she had. “It’s time we had a talk.”
One might have thought that, after being sentenced to such a tedious punishment in his house arrest, Elias would have wanted to spend as little time in the archontiko as possible, but the opposite had somehow become very much the case. He might have allowed his mind to become fixated on thoughts of how he would achieve his ultimate fantasy, and this may have included spending increasing quantities of time within the royal palace as opposed to the Stravos manor, yet he often found himself returning to the remodelled concert hall.
It was odd. Elias had often considered his family to be no more important than any other individual in his life, the only difference being that they were ever-present and had shaped him more than he cared to admit, but such apathy towards them did not mean he wished to be completely isolated from his parents nor sisters. There was a part of him which had begun to consider that, perhaps, he should start to trust them further than he had in the past years. It may well have been the reason for his sudden reliance on these therapeutic home visits.
On this night, in particular, he had chosen to lay his head to rest at the Stravos home, although 'rest' might have been a strong term for the sleepless evening. Elias had never really unconsciously dreamed, his nights more often than not filled with dark and empty sleep than they were torrid hallucinations, but in recent days, he had found that closing his eyes led to visions more vivid than he had ever before experienced. It was always that same image of that one horrendous senate meeting, where everything had fallen apart. The thought was so endless and so discomforting that Elias now found it almost impossible to sleep at all, let alone for the full stretch of the moon's journey across the sky.
When Mother had slid into his chambers in the earliest hours of the morning, he had already been awake. The man had always been an early riser, and this day was no exception, but could one really call it rising when he had barely slept? He had dragged himself across the room to take a seat at the desk now riddled with half-discarded parchments, the man neglecting to light any candle, his eyes left squinting in the pale moonlight.
"Mother," he had greeted her, rising from the klismos and turning to face the woman, the moon's silver beams cast over his face and only accentuating that maddened glint that lingered in the depths of his verdant irises. Her tone implied this was far from a friendly discussion, and he naturally switched his persona to that more concerned tone that she would likely recognise. "I imagine you wish to discuss what has occurred. I had imagined we might have a less nocturnal conversation, but I suppose it must have been keeping you from rest as it has myself, judging by the hour. Please. Have a seat."
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One might have thought that, after being sentenced to such a tedious punishment in his house arrest, Elias would have wanted to spend as little time in the archontiko as possible, but the opposite had somehow become very much the case. He might have allowed his mind to become fixated on thoughts of how he would achieve his ultimate fantasy, and this may have included spending increasing quantities of time within the royal palace as opposed to the Stravos manor, yet he often found himself returning to the remodelled concert hall.
It was odd. Elias had often considered his family to be no more important than any other individual in his life, the only difference being that they were ever-present and had shaped him more than he cared to admit, but such apathy towards them did not mean he wished to be completely isolated from his parents nor sisters. There was a part of him which had begun to consider that, perhaps, he should start to trust them further than he had in the past years. It may well have been the reason for his sudden reliance on these therapeutic home visits.
On this night, in particular, he had chosen to lay his head to rest at the Stravos home, although 'rest' might have been a strong term for the sleepless evening. Elias had never really unconsciously dreamed, his nights more often than not filled with dark and empty sleep than they were torrid hallucinations, but in recent days, he had found that closing his eyes led to visions more vivid than he had ever before experienced. It was always that same image of that one horrendous senate meeting, where everything had fallen apart. The thought was so endless and so discomforting that Elias now found it almost impossible to sleep at all, let alone for the full stretch of the moon's journey across the sky.
When Mother had slid into his chambers in the earliest hours of the morning, he had already been awake. The man had always been an early riser, and this day was no exception, but could one really call it rising when he had barely slept? He had dragged himself across the room to take a seat at the desk now riddled with half-discarded parchments, the man neglecting to light any candle, his eyes left squinting in the pale moonlight.
"Mother," he had greeted her, rising from the klismos and turning to face the woman, the moon's silver beams cast over his face and only accentuating that maddened glint that lingered in the depths of his verdant irises. Her tone implied this was far from a friendly discussion, and he naturally switched his persona to that more concerned tone that she would likely recognise. "I imagine you wish to discuss what has occurred. I had imagined we might have a less nocturnal conversation, but I suppose it must have been keeping you from rest as it has myself, judging by the hour. Please. Have a seat."
One might have thought that, after being sentenced to such a tedious punishment in his house arrest, Elias would have wanted to spend as little time in the archontiko as possible, but the opposite had somehow become very much the case. He might have allowed his mind to become fixated on thoughts of how he would achieve his ultimate fantasy, and this may have included spending increasing quantities of time within the royal palace as opposed to the Stravos manor, yet he often found himself returning to the remodelled concert hall.
It was odd. Elias had often considered his family to be no more important than any other individual in his life, the only difference being that they were ever-present and had shaped him more than he cared to admit, but such apathy towards them did not mean he wished to be completely isolated from his parents nor sisters. There was a part of him which had begun to consider that, perhaps, he should start to trust them further than he had in the past years. It may well have been the reason for his sudden reliance on these therapeutic home visits.
On this night, in particular, he had chosen to lay his head to rest at the Stravos home, although 'rest' might have been a strong term for the sleepless evening. Elias had never really unconsciously dreamed, his nights more often than not filled with dark and empty sleep than they were torrid hallucinations, but in recent days, he had found that closing his eyes led to visions more vivid than he had ever before experienced. It was always that same image of that one horrendous senate meeting, where everything had fallen apart. The thought was so endless and so discomforting that Elias now found it almost impossible to sleep at all, let alone for the full stretch of the moon's journey across the sky.
When Mother had slid into his chambers in the earliest hours of the morning, he had already been awake. The man had always been an early riser, and this day was no exception, but could one really call it rising when he had barely slept? He had dragged himself across the room to take a seat at the desk now riddled with half-discarded parchments, the man neglecting to light any candle, his eyes left squinting in the pale moonlight.
"Mother," he had greeted her, rising from the klismos and turning to face the woman, the moon's silver beams cast over his face and only accentuating that maddened glint that lingered in the depths of his verdant irises. Her tone implied this was far from a friendly discussion, and he naturally switched his persona to that more concerned tone that she would likely recognise. "I imagine you wish to discuss what has occurred. I had imagined we might have a less nocturnal conversation, but I suppose it must have been keeping you from rest as it has myself, judging by the hour. Please. Have a seat."
The formality of his tone grated on Circenia’s ears, pausing near the doorway as she looked over to where her son stood. Her beautiful boy, clothed in the gentle light of Artemis that only just concealed the hint of madness in his eyes. Her ambitious boy, always so cunning and clever, who had the world at his fingertips. Her foolish boy, who, in one fell swoop, had ruined it all. Where had she gone wrong?
Had she gone wrong?
Slowly, without saying a word, Circenia approached, her shrewd gaze taking in Elias from head to toe. He hadn’t slept either, eh? No surprise. How could he, knowing what he’d done? The future of their family, everything that accompanied the Stravos name had rested on his shoulders. They’d put all their faith in him, all their effort, all their praise. And now everything was gone. Because of him.
The princess could feel her fury languidly simmering beneath the surface, though she kept it carefully in check. Circenia was a tempestuous woman with an unpredictable temper, it was true, but she’d always done her utmost to be a good mother. No one could deny that. She had always loved her children, nurtured them as best she could, even if she had indulged them perhaps a little too much. Even Elias. Well… especially Elias.
It was an undisputed fact in the Stravos household that her son had always been her favorite child, for in him, she’d always seen the bright, glorious future their line was bound for. Even as he’d grown older and more arrogant, distancing himself from the rest of the family, her adoration of him had never diminished, the doting mother consciously aware of his faults, but forever dismissing them. In her eyes, Elias could do no wrong—the sun shone practically at his command.
Until now. Which only made all of this that much harder.
Circenia finally came to a halt in front of him and remained silent for a few minutes longer, her face expressionless but for a slow, arrhythmic twitch in her jaw. Crystal blue eyes caught his gaze and held it, unblinking for an almost unnatural length of time. After what seemed an eternity, she finally took the seat he’d offered, though her gaze never broke away from his. A quiet Circenia was almost as unnerving as a raging one. If not even more so.
“Is it true?” Her simply put question finally broke the tense silence, settling clenched hands in her lap. “Did you do it?”
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The formality of his tone grated on Circenia’s ears, pausing near the doorway as she looked over to where her son stood. Her beautiful boy, clothed in the gentle light of Artemis that only just concealed the hint of madness in his eyes. Her ambitious boy, always so cunning and clever, who had the world at his fingertips. Her foolish boy, who, in one fell swoop, had ruined it all. Where had she gone wrong?
Had she gone wrong?
Slowly, without saying a word, Circenia approached, her shrewd gaze taking in Elias from head to toe. He hadn’t slept either, eh? No surprise. How could he, knowing what he’d done? The future of their family, everything that accompanied the Stravos name had rested on his shoulders. They’d put all their faith in him, all their effort, all their praise. And now everything was gone. Because of him.
The princess could feel her fury languidly simmering beneath the surface, though she kept it carefully in check. Circenia was a tempestuous woman with an unpredictable temper, it was true, but she’d always done her utmost to be a good mother. No one could deny that. She had always loved her children, nurtured them as best she could, even if she had indulged them perhaps a little too much. Even Elias. Well… especially Elias.
It was an undisputed fact in the Stravos household that her son had always been her favorite child, for in him, she’d always seen the bright, glorious future their line was bound for. Even as he’d grown older and more arrogant, distancing himself from the rest of the family, her adoration of him had never diminished, the doting mother consciously aware of his faults, but forever dismissing them. In her eyes, Elias could do no wrong—the sun shone practically at his command.
Until now. Which only made all of this that much harder.
Circenia finally came to a halt in front of him and remained silent for a few minutes longer, her face expressionless but for a slow, arrhythmic twitch in her jaw. Crystal blue eyes caught his gaze and held it, unblinking for an almost unnatural length of time. After what seemed an eternity, she finally took the seat he’d offered, though her gaze never broke away from his. A quiet Circenia was almost as unnerving as a raging one. If not even more so.
“Is it true?” Her simply put question finally broke the tense silence, settling clenched hands in her lap. “Did you do it?”
The formality of his tone grated on Circenia’s ears, pausing near the doorway as she looked over to where her son stood. Her beautiful boy, clothed in the gentle light of Artemis that only just concealed the hint of madness in his eyes. Her ambitious boy, always so cunning and clever, who had the world at his fingertips. Her foolish boy, who, in one fell swoop, had ruined it all. Where had she gone wrong?
Had she gone wrong?
Slowly, without saying a word, Circenia approached, her shrewd gaze taking in Elias from head to toe. He hadn’t slept either, eh? No surprise. How could he, knowing what he’d done? The future of their family, everything that accompanied the Stravos name had rested on his shoulders. They’d put all their faith in him, all their effort, all their praise. And now everything was gone. Because of him.
The princess could feel her fury languidly simmering beneath the surface, though she kept it carefully in check. Circenia was a tempestuous woman with an unpredictable temper, it was true, but she’d always done her utmost to be a good mother. No one could deny that. She had always loved her children, nurtured them as best she could, even if she had indulged them perhaps a little too much. Even Elias. Well… especially Elias.
It was an undisputed fact in the Stravos household that her son had always been her favorite child, for in him, she’d always seen the bright, glorious future their line was bound for. Even as he’d grown older and more arrogant, distancing himself from the rest of the family, her adoration of him had never diminished, the doting mother consciously aware of his faults, but forever dismissing them. In her eyes, Elias could do no wrong—the sun shone practically at his command.
Until now. Which only made all of this that much harder.
Circenia finally came to a halt in front of him and remained silent for a few minutes longer, her face expressionless but for a slow, arrhythmic twitch in her jaw. Crystal blue eyes caught his gaze and held it, unblinking for an almost unnatural length of time. After what seemed an eternity, she finally took the seat he’d offered, though her gaze never broke away from his. A quiet Circenia was almost as unnerving as a raging one. If not even more so.
“Is it true?” Her simply put question finally broke the tense silence, settling clenched hands in her lap. “Did you do it?”
There was a tension in the air that dulled it enough that it almost appeared too thick to breathe. It was evident not only in the overly stiff tone that Elias had used when speaking but in the way his mother seemed so hesitant as she crossed the chamber to take the chair he had offered her. Times had changed, and although they had once been closer, and, although he could still sense that underlying love in his birthgiver, he could not deny that, at that moment, the pair of them felt worlds apart.
Although usually so proud of all his accomplishments that he would willingly announce them to the world in the hopes that the heavens would rain down upon him with praise and promise, her question left him without words. It was illogical, really, for he had known it was coming from the first moments she had entered his bedroom, even referenced it himself in his greeting of the woman, but the reality of the words had hit him harder than expected. There was a nagging feeling at the back of his mind that he did not feel too often. Guilt. That horrid, pining call which demanded his attention and refused his ignorance. Yet it did not seem a remorse for his actions, and more so one directed entirely at the dark-haired woman who now sat facing him. He had upset Mother.
Elias held her gaze for as long as he was able, his hazel eyes fixed as fiercely as he could manage on her own cerulean orbs until he could no more, and he broke away in frustration, searching for anything else to look at, and settling on a distant corner of the ceiling. For a man so generally filled to the brim with confidence, he seemed a pathetic child, and there were very few he would allow to see him in such a worthless state. But he had not slept, and his defences were not what they usually were. Elias could not manage his typical degree of cold-hearted apathy, nor his dark-minded wit, and for one rare moment, he had become only a boy fearful of being punished by his mother.
Eventually, he answered the question, his body falling back into place in its original seat, and his gaze flickering slowly back towards Mother, though he still struggled to look her thoroughly in the eye. "I did," he replied, quite frankly, unable to muster any further response than the outright truth. His previous formality was gone, and his slumped body was wrought with defeat. "I made a mistake, Mother."
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There was a tension in the air that dulled it enough that it almost appeared too thick to breathe. It was evident not only in the overly stiff tone that Elias had used when speaking but in the way his mother seemed so hesitant as she crossed the chamber to take the chair he had offered her. Times had changed, and although they had once been closer, and, although he could still sense that underlying love in his birthgiver, he could not deny that, at that moment, the pair of them felt worlds apart.
Although usually so proud of all his accomplishments that he would willingly announce them to the world in the hopes that the heavens would rain down upon him with praise and promise, her question left him without words. It was illogical, really, for he had known it was coming from the first moments she had entered his bedroom, even referenced it himself in his greeting of the woman, but the reality of the words had hit him harder than expected. There was a nagging feeling at the back of his mind that he did not feel too often. Guilt. That horrid, pining call which demanded his attention and refused his ignorance. Yet it did not seem a remorse for his actions, and more so one directed entirely at the dark-haired woman who now sat facing him. He had upset Mother.
Elias held her gaze for as long as he was able, his hazel eyes fixed as fiercely as he could manage on her own cerulean orbs until he could no more, and he broke away in frustration, searching for anything else to look at, and settling on a distant corner of the ceiling. For a man so generally filled to the brim with confidence, he seemed a pathetic child, and there were very few he would allow to see him in such a worthless state. But he had not slept, and his defences were not what they usually were. Elias could not manage his typical degree of cold-hearted apathy, nor his dark-minded wit, and for one rare moment, he had become only a boy fearful of being punished by his mother.
Eventually, he answered the question, his body falling back into place in its original seat, and his gaze flickering slowly back towards Mother, though he still struggled to look her thoroughly in the eye. "I did," he replied, quite frankly, unable to muster any further response than the outright truth. His previous formality was gone, and his slumped body was wrought with defeat. "I made a mistake, Mother."
There was a tension in the air that dulled it enough that it almost appeared too thick to breathe. It was evident not only in the overly stiff tone that Elias had used when speaking but in the way his mother seemed so hesitant as she crossed the chamber to take the chair he had offered her. Times had changed, and although they had once been closer, and, although he could still sense that underlying love in his birthgiver, he could not deny that, at that moment, the pair of them felt worlds apart.
Although usually so proud of all his accomplishments that he would willingly announce them to the world in the hopes that the heavens would rain down upon him with praise and promise, her question left him without words. It was illogical, really, for he had known it was coming from the first moments she had entered his bedroom, even referenced it himself in his greeting of the woman, but the reality of the words had hit him harder than expected. There was a nagging feeling at the back of his mind that he did not feel too often. Guilt. That horrid, pining call which demanded his attention and refused his ignorance. Yet it did not seem a remorse for his actions, and more so one directed entirely at the dark-haired woman who now sat facing him. He had upset Mother.
Elias held her gaze for as long as he was able, his hazel eyes fixed as fiercely as he could manage on her own cerulean orbs until he could no more, and he broke away in frustration, searching for anything else to look at, and settling on a distant corner of the ceiling. For a man so generally filled to the brim with confidence, he seemed a pathetic child, and there were very few he would allow to see him in such a worthless state. But he had not slept, and his defences were not what they usually were. Elias could not manage his typical degree of cold-hearted apathy, nor his dark-minded wit, and for one rare moment, he had become only a boy fearful of being punished by his mother.
Eventually, he answered the question, his body falling back into place in its original seat, and his gaze flickering slowly back towards Mother, though he still struggled to look her thoroughly in the eye. "I did," he replied, quite frankly, unable to muster any further response than the outright truth. His previous formality was gone, and his slumped body was wrought with defeat. "I made a mistake, Mother."
Circenia had come to this room prepared with her righteous indignation, her justified anger at everything that had transpired. She had expected her son to get defensive, to deny it, to pass the blame onto someone else… anything but what he did. A simple admission of guilt. Admitting he was wrong. When was the last time her proud son had ever said he made a mistake?
Perhaps he was growing up, after all.
It caught her off guard, to say the least, the princess blinking rapidly in the wake of his admission. For a moment, she was simply speechless, her rage slowly deflating without a fight to stoke it. “Yes. You did,” was her brilliant substitute for the scathing speech she’d tucked away for this conversation, at a loss for words for once in her life.
Some of the tension in her body relaxed as she regarded Elias, falling quiet for another few long moments as Circenia regrouped and reconsidered what she’d come to say. “You made a mistake,” she slowly echoed his words as calculating blue eyes surveyed her son’s face, a face more open and earnest than she’d seen it in a long time. There was remorse there, genuine contrition, and frankly, it amazed her. Was it all just an act? Or was there something really there?
“But you’re going to fix it.”
It was another long moment of consideration while the princess pondered, the blackness of late night slowly fading into the awakening light of early morning. Taking a deep breath, she added, “And I’m going to help you.”
Rising from her seat, Circenia closed the distance between her and her son, stopping in front of him and laying a hand on his shoulder. She would wait for him to look up at her before she continued, “Yes, you made a mistake, but only in the execution. You are what your father and I made you. An ambitious man with a lust for power that can overcome reason. And even though it cost us quite literally everything…” Her fingers squeezed painfully tight on his shoulder, a bit of her previous anger creeping back into her voice before she slowly relaxed, “I can’t fault you for being exactly what we taught you to be.”
Equally surprising as Elias’s declaration of his own guilt was Circenia’s admission that she had a part to play in it. It was a morning of firsts, it would seem, but given their position, it seemed only appropriate. Things had to change if they ever wanted to be on top again, and change had to start with them. The House of Stravos was not the kind of House to take a defeat lightly. They would come back, and they would come back stronger than they ever were before.
But only united could they make the dream a reality.
“So tell me, Elias. Talk to me. Where do you want to go from here?”
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Circenia had come to this room prepared with her righteous indignation, her justified anger at everything that had transpired. She had expected her son to get defensive, to deny it, to pass the blame onto someone else… anything but what he did. A simple admission of guilt. Admitting he was wrong. When was the last time her proud son had ever said he made a mistake?
Perhaps he was growing up, after all.
It caught her off guard, to say the least, the princess blinking rapidly in the wake of his admission. For a moment, she was simply speechless, her rage slowly deflating without a fight to stoke it. “Yes. You did,” was her brilliant substitute for the scathing speech she’d tucked away for this conversation, at a loss for words for once in her life.
Some of the tension in her body relaxed as she regarded Elias, falling quiet for another few long moments as Circenia regrouped and reconsidered what she’d come to say. “You made a mistake,” she slowly echoed his words as calculating blue eyes surveyed her son’s face, a face more open and earnest than she’d seen it in a long time. There was remorse there, genuine contrition, and frankly, it amazed her. Was it all just an act? Or was there something really there?
“But you’re going to fix it.”
It was another long moment of consideration while the princess pondered, the blackness of late night slowly fading into the awakening light of early morning. Taking a deep breath, she added, “And I’m going to help you.”
Rising from her seat, Circenia closed the distance between her and her son, stopping in front of him and laying a hand on his shoulder. She would wait for him to look up at her before she continued, “Yes, you made a mistake, but only in the execution. You are what your father and I made you. An ambitious man with a lust for power that can overcome reason. And even though it cost us quite literally everything…” Her fingers squeezed painfully tight on his shoulder, a bit of her previous anger creeping back into her voice before she slowly relaxed, “I can’t fault you for being exactly what we taught you to be.”
Equally surprising as Elias’s declaration of his own guilt was Circenia’s admission that she had a part to play in it. It was a morning of firsts, it would seem, but given their position, it seemed only appropriate. Things had to change if they ever wanted to be on top again, and change had to start with them. The House of Stravos was not the kind of House to take a defeat lightly. They would come back, and they would come back stronger than they ever were before.
But only united could they make the dream a reality.
“So tell me, Elias. Talk to me. Where do you want to go from here?”
Circenia had come to this room prepared with her righteous indignation, her justified anger at everything that had transpired. She had expected her son to get defensive, to deny it, to pass the blame onto someone else… anything but what he did. A simple admission of guilt. Admitting he was wrong. When was the last time her proud son had ever said he made a mistake?
Perhaps he was growing up, after all.
It caught her off guard, to say the least, the princess blinking rapidly in the wake of his admission. For a moment, she was simply speechless, her rage slowly deflating without a fight to stoke it. “Yes. You did,” was her brilliant substitute for the scathing speech she’d tucked away for this conversation, at a loss for words for once in her life.
Some of the tension in her body relaxed as she regarded Elias, falling quiet for another few long moments as Circenia regrouped and reconsidered what she’d come to say. “You made a mistake,” she slowly echoed his words as calculating blue eyes surveyed her son’s face, a face more open and earnest than she’d seen it in a long time. There was remorse there, genuine contrition, and frankly, it amazed her. Was it all just an act? Or was there something really there?
“But you’re going to fix it.”
It was another long moment of consideration while the princess pondered, the blackness of late night slowly fading into the awakening light of early morning. Taking a deep breath, she added, “And I’m going to help you.”
Rising from her seat, Circenia closed the distance between her and her son, stopping in front of him and laying a hand on his shoulder. She would wait for him to look up at her before she continued, “Yes, you made a mistake, but only in the execution. You are what your father and I made you. An ambitious man with a lust for power that can overcome reason. And even though it cost us quite literally everything…” Her fingers squeezed painfully tight on his shoulder, a bit of her previous anger creeping back into her voice before she slowly relaxed, “I can’t fault you for being exactly what we taught you to be.”
Equally surprising as Elias’s declaration of his own guilt was Circenia’s admission that she had a part to play in it. It was a morning of firsts, it would seem, but given their position, it seemed only appropriate. Things had to change if they ever wanted to be on top again, and change had to start with them. The House of Stravos was not the kind of House to take a defeat lightly. They would come back, and they would come back stronger than they ever were before.
But only united could they make the dream a reality.
“So tell me, Elias. Talk to me. Where do you want to go from here?”
As much as his own admission of guilt might have been unexpected, Elias had not thought either that Mother would be so willing to accept his fault. He had expected a harshness which she was not showing him, even after all he had done, and everything he had not intended. The sentiment was appreciated - gratefulness an emotion he had long since thought vanished in all his quests for acknowledgement (if one thought themselves deserving of praise, it seemed significantly harder to be thankful when it finally arrived).
"I know. I will." It was no lie. There was little which had run through Elias's mind more often than every possible variation of just how he could remedy all which had gone wrong. It was the reason he lay awake into the darkest hours of the evening and past them into the lightest hours of the morn, but he had thought it would be a problem the solution for which he would have to discover himself. Never had he thought his family would be willing to offer aid in such a regard, though whether such believed reluctance was due to the Stravos disconnect he had been feeling recently or solely due to the strife he had caused them, he could not know. Mother's words did not register at first, and he had opened his mouth to make another comment on the subject of his attempts at fixing the situation, when she rested a hand on his shoulder and began to speak again.
She would help him.
It seemed she had not forgiven him for the unplanned results of his schemes, and, although he was usually willing to lay blame wherever it could land that was not himself, he could not deny that she had every right to be upset. "It was not my intention. I did not think that...I did not think. We should have had it all, and yet we were left with nothing by the fault of some insignificant fool who I allowed into my plans." Elias had claimed time and time again that it was the other who had been at fault - and, to an extent, he had been, for without the pirate's wandering tongue he would not have had his plots spread to the masses - but there was a part of him which knew full well that he should not have trusted the man in the first place.
"I want to win. That crown belongs on a Stravos head - on my head, and I do not intend to fail on this occasion." It must have been clear to Mother that he had already begun his second attempts at victory. "Without their precious new Queen, the people shall grow restless. Do you truly think the populace know how to handle themselves without a voice of reason on the throne? Do you think the simpering princess they have left can provide the reassurance they require?" He had caught himself in the moment of his words, rising almost without noticing from his chair, every point now accentuated by a flourish of his hands, though the actions were harsh and not as fluid as he imagined them. "Only I can save them, lead them in their time of need. I shall take my rightful place in the palace, and they will come to thank me for it."
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As much as his own admission of guilt might have been unexpected, Elias had not thought either that Mother would be so willing to accept his fault. He had expected a harshness which she was not showing him, even after all he had done, and everything he had not intended. The sentiment was appreciated - gratefulness an emotion he had long since thought vanished in all his quests for acknowledgement (if one thought themselves deserving of praise, it seemed significantly harder to be thankful when it finally arrived).
"I know. I will." It was no lie. There was little which had run through Elias's mind more often than every possible variation of just how he could remedy all which had gone wrong. It was the reason he lay awake into the darkest hours of the evening and past them into the lightest hours of the morn, but he had thought it would be a problem the solution for which he would have to discover himself. Never had he thought his family would be willing to offer aid in such a regard, though whether such believed reluctance was due to the Stravos disconnect he had been feeling recently or solely due to the strife he had caused them, he could not know. Mother's words did not register at first, and he had opened his mouth to make another comment on the subject of his attempts at fixing the situation, when she rested a hand on his shoulder and began to speak again.
She would help him.
It seemed she had not forgiven him for the unplanned results of his schemes, and, although he was usually willing to lay blame wherever it could land that was not himself, he could not deny that she had every right to be upset. "It was not my intention. I did not think that...I did not think. We should have had it all, and yet we were left with nothing by the fault of some insignificant fool who I allowed into my plans." Elias had claimed time and time again that it was the other who had been at fault - and, to an extent, he had been, for without the pirate's wandering tongue he would not have had his plots spread to the masses - but there was a part of him which knew full well that he should not have trusted the man in the first place.
"I want to win. That crown belongs on a Stravos head - on my head, and I do not intend to fail on this occasion." It must have been clear to Mother that he had already begun his second attempts at victory. "Without their precious new Queen, the people shall grow restless. Do you truly think the populace know how to handle themselves without a voice of reason on the throne? Do you think the simpering princess they have left can provide the reassurance they require?" He had caught himself in the moment of his words, rising almost without noticing from his chair, every point now accentuated by a flourish of his hands, though the actions were harsh and not as fluid as he imagined them. "Only I can save them, lead them in their time of need. I shall take my rightful place in the palace, and they will come to thank me for it."
As much as his own admission of guilt might have been unexpected, Elias had not thought either that Mother would be so willing to accept his fault. He had expected a harshness which she was not showing him, even after all he had done, and everything he had not intended. The sentiment was appreciated - gratefulness an emotion he had long since thought vanished in all his quests for acknowledgement (if one thought themselves deserving of praise, it seemed significantly harder to be thankful when it finally arrived).
"I know. I will." It was no lie. There was little which had run through Elias's mind more often than every possible variation of just how he could remedy all which had gone wrong. It was the reason he lay awake into the darkest hours of the evening and past them into the lightest hours of the morn, but he had thought it would be a problem the solution for which he would have to discover himself. Never had he thought his family would be willing to offer aid in such a regard, though whether such believed reluctance was due to the Stravos disconnect he had been feeling recently or solely due to the strife he had caused them, he could not know. Mother's words did not register at first, and he had opened his mouth to make another comment on the subject of his attempts at fixing the situation, when she rested a hand on his shoulder and began to speak again.
She would help him.
It seemed she had not forgiven him for the unplanned results of his schemes, and, although he was usually willing to lay blame wherever it could land that was not himself, he could not deny that she had every right to be upset. "It was not my intention. I did not think that...I did not think. We should have had it all, and yet we were left with nothing by the fault of some insignificant fool who I allowed into my plans." Elias had claimed time and time again that it was the other who had been at fault - and, to an extent, he had been, for without the pirate's wandering tongue he would not have had his plots spread to the masses - but there was a part of him which knew full well that he should not have trusted the man in the first place.
"I want to win. That crown belongs on a Stravos head - on my head, and I do not intend to fail on this occasion." It must have been clear to Mother that he had already begun his second attempts at victory. "Without their precious new Queen, the people shall grow restless. Do you truly think the populace know how to handle themselves without a voice of reason on the throne? Do you think the simpering princess they have left can provide the reassurance they require?" He had caught himself in the moment of his words, rising almost without noticing from his chair, every point now accentuated by a flourish of his hands, though the actions were harsh and not as fluid as he imagined them. "Only I can save them, lead them in their time of need. I shall take my rightful place in the palace, and they will come to thank me for it."
Her heart swelled with pride as she watched her son pace in front of her, a smirk curling her lips. Her golden child, proud and strong with the heart of a lion. Yes, he had made a grievous error, but he would make sure it was repaired. He would see to it that their family attained what was rightfully theirs. Circenia would do whatever she could to ensure it became reality.
“Persephone is nothing,” she agreed, her voice matter-of-fact. “Emilia even more so. Even if the ‘Queen’ returns, she will have a lot to answer for. A true queen does not leave her kingdom when things get hard. It will not be easy for her to regain the trust of her citizens. You will be the one to step up and take that trust instead. You will be that voice of reason they so desperately need.”
Standing to join Elias, the princess folded her hands in front of her, her expression calculative, yet serene. This is exactly what she’d been preparing for her entire life. The power she’d always longed for, lingering just within her grasp. Her niece had merely paved the way to ensuring she’d achieved it. When all was said and done, she ought to thank Persephone for her cowardice. Without it, they might never have had this glowing opportunity.
“Yes, you will take your rightful place, my son, and they will all praise you for it.” Reaching for his face, she brushed a dark strand of hair from his forehead before adjusting the skewed fabric of his chiton to lay in a more dignified manner. Letting her hands fall back to her sides, she went on, “You will be their savior in this most desperate time of need. The Stravos name will be remembered as the one that stepped in to illuminate Athenia in her darkest hour. Your head was born to wear that crown, and by the end of this, we will make sure that it does.”
Her eyes gleamed, chin held high as she regarded her middle child. “Persephone had her detractors before she ran off, and this will only serve to solidify their reasons for it. They will be ours in no time. Even her supporters will start to change their tune the longer she stays away. All we need now is patience.”
Tapping her chin thoughtfully, Circenia suggested, “Take a unit of our men and secure the Palati. I would not use violence unless it becomes necessary, but go prepared for it, nonetheless. Should there be resistance, tell them we have fears for the young princess’s safety left alone without enough protection. That we are merely performing our familial duty. Emilia is not exactly the brightest girl… she might even be grateful for your presence.”
Smirking, she added, “Use your charm, Elias. Dote on her. Win her over, and she won’t put up a fight. And if she does…” The princess lifted one thin shoulder in a shrug, her smirk deepening. “Well. We have other ways we can deal with her.”
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Her heart swelled with pride as she watched her son pace in front of her, a smirk curling her lips. Her golden child, proud and strong with the heart of a lion. Yes, he had made a grievous error, but he would make sure it was repaired. He would see to it that their family attained what was rightfully theirs. Circenia would do whatever she could to ensure it became reality.
“Persephone is nothing,” she agreed, her voice matter-of-fact. “Emilia even more so. Even if the ‘Queen’ returns, she will have a lot to answer for. A true queen does not leave her kingdom when things get hard. It will not be easy for her to regain the trust of her citizens. You will be the one to step up and take that trust instead. You will be that voice of reason they so desperately need.”
Standing to join Elias, the princess folded her hands in front of her, her expression calculative, yet serene. This is exactly what she’d been preparing for her entire life. The power she’d always longed for, lingering just within her grasp. Her niece had merely paved the way to ensuring she’d achieved it. When all was said and done, she ought to thank Persephone for her cowardice. Without it, they might never have had this glowing opportunity.
“Yes, you will take your rightful place, my son, and they will all praise you for it.” Reaching for his face, she brushed a dark strand of hair from his forehead before adjusting the skewed fabric of his chiton to lay in a more dignified manner. Letting her hands fall back to her sides, she went on, “You will be their savior in this most desperate time of need. The Stravos name will be remembered as the one that stepped in to illuminate Athenia in her darkest hour. Your head was born to wear that crown, and by the end of this, we will make sure that it does.”
Her eyes gleamed, chin held high as she regarded her middle child. “Persephone had her detractors before she ran off, and this will only serve to solidify their reasons for it. They will be ours in no time. Even her supporters will start to change their tune the longer she stays away. All we need now is patience.”
Tapping her chin thoughtfully, Circenia suggested, “Take a unit of our men and secure the Palati. I would not use violence unless it becomes necessary, but go prepared for it, nonetheless. Should there be resistance, tell them we have fears for the young princess’s safety left alone without enough protection. That we are merely performing our familial duty. Emilia is not exactly the brightest girl… she might even be grateful for your presence.”
Smirking, she added, “Use your charm, Elias. Dote on her. Win her over, and she won’t put up a fight. And if she does…” The princess lifted one thin shoulder in a shrug, her smirk deepening. “Well. We have other ways we can deal with her.”
Her heart swelled with pride as she watched her son pace in front of her, a smirk curling her lips. Her golden child, proud and strong with the heart of a lion. Yes, he had made a grievous error, but he would make sure it was repaired. He would see to it that their family attained what was rightfully theirs. Circenia would do whatever she could to ensure it became reality.
“Persephone is nothing,” she agreed, her voice matter-of-fact. “Emilia even more so. Even if the ‘Queen’ returns, she will have a lot to answer for. A true queen does not leave her kingdom when things get hard. It will not be easy for her to regain the trust of her citizens. You will be the one to step up and take that trust instead. You will be that voice of reason they so desperately need.”
Standing to join Elias, the princess folded her hands in front of her, her expression calculative, yet serene. This is exactly what she’d been preparing for her entire life. The power she’d always longed for, lingering just within her grasp. Her niece had merely paved the way to ensuring she’d achieved it. When all was said and done, she ought to thank Persephone for her cowardice. Without it, they might never have had this glowing opportunity.
“Yes, you will take your rightful place, my son, and they will all praise you for it.” Reaching for his face, she brushed a dark strand of hair from his forehead before adjusting the skewed fabric of his chiton to lay in a more dignified manner. Letting her hands fall back to her sides, she went on, “You will be their savior in this most desperate time of need. The Stravos name will be remembered as the one that stepped in to illuminate Athenia in her darkest hour. Your head was born to wear that crown, and by the end of this, we will make sure that it does.”
Her eyes gleamed, chin held high as she regarded her middle child. “Persephone had her detractors before she ran off, and this will only serve to solidify their reasons for it. They will be ours in no time. Even her supporters will start to change their tune the longer she stays away. All we need now is patience.”
Tapping her chin thoughtfully, Circenia suggested, “Take a unit of our men and secure the Palati. I would not use violence unless it becomes necessary, but go prepared for it, nonetheless. Should there be resistance, tell them we have fears for the young princess’s safety left alone without enough protection. That we are merely performing our familial duty. Emilia is not exactly the brightest girl… she might even be grateful for your presence.”
Smirking, she added, “Use your charm, Elias. Dote on her. Win her over, and she won’t put up a fight. And if she does…” The princess lifted one thin shoulder in a shrug, her smirk deepening. “Well. We have other ways we can deal with her.”
Elias sat upon his bed as his mother spoke. The child of an ambitious man and a greedy woman, he held a languid sense of entitlement in every line of his body. He sat, naked from his disturbed sleep but for a brief slip around the hips, his blanket pulled across his pelvis and bare feet hard upon the floor. His knees were spread his elbows rested upon his thighs. He gave all the appearance of a gladiator waiting for battle, whilst his mother filled his head with plans and ideals that morphed into extended schemes in his mind.
"Persephone had her supporters as well as detractors." He offered to his mother. "She cannot be allowed to return or she will gather those loyal to her, infatuated with her simpering smile." Elias's fingers curled into fists, his tone full of disgust and venom as he nodded along with his mother's plans. For a woman of great greed and desire, Circenia was smart and had grown with an education second to none. Whilst her sister had inherited the draw of people and befriending those around her, and her brother the just head for fair governance, Circenia's royal calling had been that of schemes and calculation. She could out manoeuvre most in the Court and Senate despite her gender.
But this was why Elias had not spoken of his plans to her. So skilled was his mother at schemes, so solid was his father in financial planning and business affairs... Elias had sought to prove himself as an individual. He deserved the godsdamn crown of Athenia and if he could not grasp it with his own two hands who was he to claim it to be worthy of it?
Yet, Persephone had not claimed it with hers, had she? She had snivelled and hid behind her father's popularity and power. She had made her counsel dance on a string like a puppet master. She had even managed to manipulate a pirate - a pirate for Gods sake! - who had never had any scruples as far as he could see, into attending a mass Senate meeting and pointing a damning finger.
Who would have thought a filthy sailor would think to keep a letter. One slip of parchment. On a boat. In the middle of the sea. Where it could have been soaked beyond reading, lost in some transit, or simply thrown away once read. How had that damn thing stuck around?
Distracted from his mother's voice, Elias allowed the simmering rage of injustice to diminish enough to hear her voice once more, telling him to secure the palace, to woo the young princess Emilia. The muscles of his shoulders tightened and his forearms flexed as his fingers mimicked a desire to claim. He gave a slow exhale into the room.
There were two ways for him to win this war of power. One, was to allow the Senate meet to continue as it had gone. Emilia would become Queen at the proof of Persephone's death and Elias could easily win her to his side if needed. There wasn't a woman in the lower nobility that hadn't graced his bed. One innocent little girl would be no difficulty for him to court. He would become King and then reinstate his family's status of nobility.
Or, the alternative was to use Persephone's absence to have the Senate turn around the decisions of the last Senate meet. Stravos' nobility would be returned by default and so would the inheritance to Elias' head as Lord Alehandros had no intention of taking on the mantel of king.
Either way... the crown landed upon his own temples and the throne beneath his deserving arse.
"I can do that." He ensured his mother, when she suggested him using his charm. "I can claim Emilia as my own, with ease. But it does me no good if she is not officially Queen." He glanced around at his mother. "Persephone's head must return to Athenia. Preferably without her body attached." The spark of violence entered his eyes as his long-held grudges against his cousin fuelled hatred into his words. She had had it so godsdamn easy. Born a princess, raised in the palati, learning how to appear the perfect monarch at her father's side. And then the man had just changed the law. Edited something so integral to the skeletal structure of Athenia. Flicked his wrist and determined that the pretty little nothing that was his daughter would rule.
It was an insult to everything the Senate stood for. Everything the people of Athenia lived by. And most of all... a Godsdamn insult to him and the perceived support and confidence in his rule.
Well... his first plan might have gone a little askew because a godsdamn pirate knew how to file paperwork - hardly a large oversight on his part - but his second had followed through well. Yes, his men had not managed to capture and kill the new Queen but they had run her from the country and managed to do it without being linked to Stravos. Everyone was still under the impression that renegade protestors of the law change had taken on the palace guards. He was not so hopeless as one might think. And now he had the chance to prove that...
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Elias sat upon his bed as his mother spoke. The child of an ambitious man and a greedy woman, he held a languid sense of entitlement in every line of his body. He sat, naked from his disturbed sleep but for a brief slip around the hips, his blanket pulled across his pelvis and bare feet hard upon the floor. His knees were spread his elbows rested upon his thighs. He gave all the appearance of a gladiator waiting for battle, whilst his mother filled his head with plans and ideals that morphed into extended schemes in his mind.
"Persephone had her supporters as well as detractors." He offered to his mother. "She cannot be allowed to return or she will gather those loyal to her, infatuated with her simpering smile." Elias's fingers curled into fists, his tone full of disgust and venom as he nodded along with his mother's plans. For a woman of great greed and desire, Circenia was smart and had grown with an education second to none. Whilst her sister had inherited the draw of people and befriending those around her, and her brother the just head for fair governance, Circenia's royal calling had been that of schemes and calculation. She could out manoeuvre most in the Court and Senate despite her gender.
But this was why Elias had not spoken of his plans to her. So skilled was his mother at schemes, so solid was his father in financial planning and business affairs... Elias had sought to prove himself as an individual. He deserved the godsdamn crown of Athenia and if he could not grasp it with his own two hands who was he to claim it to be worthy of it?
Yet, Persephone had not claimed it with hers, had she? She had snivelled and hid behind her father's popularity and power. She had made her counsel dance on a string like a puppet master. She had even managed to manipulate a pirate - a pirate for Gods sake! - who had never had any scruples as far as he could see, into attending a mass Senate meeting and pointing a damning finger.
Who would have thought a filthy sailor would think to keep a letter. One slip of parchment. On a boat. In the middle of the sea. Where it could have been soaked beyond reading, lost in some transit, or simply thrown away once read. How had that damn thing stuck around?
Distracted from his mother's voice, Elias allowed the simmering rage of injustice to diminish enough to hear her voice once more, telling him to secure the palace, to woo the young princess Emilia. The muscles of his shoulders tightened and his forearms flexed as his fingers mimicked a desire to claim. He gave a slow exhale into the room.
There were two ways for him to win this war of power. One, was to allow the Senate meet to continue as it had gone. Emilia would become Queen at the proof of Persephone's death and Elias could easily win her to his side if needed. There wasn't a woman in the lower nobility that hadn't graced his bed. One innocent little girl would be no difficulty for him to court. He would become King and then reinstate his family's status of nobility.
Or, the alternative was to use Persephone's absence to have the Senate turn around the decisions of the last Senate meet. Stravos' nobility would be returned by default and so would the inheritance to Elias' head as Lord Alehandros had no intention of taking on the mantel of king.
Either way... the crown landed upon his own temples and the throne beneath his deserving arse.
"I can do that." He ensured his mother, when she suggested him using his charm. "I can claim Emilia as my own, with ease. But it does me no good if she is not officially Queen." He glanced around at his mother. "Persephone's head must return to Athenia. Preferably without her body attached." The spark of violence entered his eyes as his long-held grudges against his cousin fuelled hatred into his words. She had had it so godsdamn easy. Born a princess, raised in the palati, learning how to appear the perfect monarch at her father's side. And then the man had just changed the law. Edited something so integral to the skeletal structure of Athenia. Flicked his wrist and determined that the pretty little nothing that was his daughter would rule.
It was an insult to everything the Senate stood for. Everything the people of Athenia lived by. And most of all... a Godsdamn insult to him and the perceived support and confidence in his rule.
Well... his first plan might have gone a little askew because a godsdamn pirate knew how to file paperwork - hardly a large oversight on his part - but his second had followed through well. Yes, his men had not managed to capture and kill the new Queen but they had run her from the country and managed to do it without being linked to Stravos. Everyone was still under the impression that renegade protestors of the law change had taken on the palace guards. He was not so hopeless as one might think. And now he had the chance to prove that...
Elias sat upon his bed as his mother spoke. The child of an ambitious man and a greedy woman, he held a languid sense of entitlement in every line of his body. He sat, naked from his disturbed sleep but for a brief slip around the hips, his blanket pulled across his pelvis and bare feet hard upon the floor. His knees were spread his elbows rested upon his thighs. He gave all the appearance of a gladiator waiting for battle, whilst his mother filled his head with plans and ideals that morphed into extended schemes in his mind.
"Persephone had her supporters as well as detractors." He offered to his mother. "She cannot be allowed to return or she will gather those loyal to her, infatuated with her simpering smile." Elias's fingers curled into fists, his tone full of disgust and venom as he nodded along with his mother's plans. For a woman of great greed and desire, Circenia was smart and had grown with an education second to none. Whilst her sister had inherited the draw of people and befriending those around her, and her brother the just head for fair governance, Circenia's royal calling had been that of schemes and calculation. She could out manoeuvre most in the Court and Senate despite her gender.
But this was why Elias had not spoken of his plans to her. So skilled was his mother at schemes, so solid was his father in financial planning and business affairs... Elias had sought to prove himself as an individual. He deserved the godsdamn crown of Athenia and if he could not grasp it with his own two hands who was he to claim it to be worthy of it?
Yet, Persephone had not claimed it with hers, had she? She had snivelled and hid behind her father's popularity and power. She had made her counsel dance on a string like a puppet master. She had even managed to manipulate a pirate - a pirate for Gods sake! - who had never had any scruples as far as he could see, into attending a mass Senate meeting and pointing a damning finger.
Who would have thought a filthy sailor would think to keep a letter. One slip of parchment. On a boat. In the middle of the sea. Where it could have been soaked beyond reading, lost in some transit, or simply thrown away once read. How had that damn thing stuck around?
Distracted from his mother's voice, Elias allowed the simmering rage of injustice to diminish enough to hear her voice once more, telling him to secure the palace, to woo the young princess Emilia. The muscles of his shoulders tightened and his forearms flexed as his fingers mimicked a desire to claim. He gave a slow exhale into the room.
There were two ways for him to win this war of power. One, was to allow the Senate meet to continue as it had gone. Emilia would become Queen at the proof of Persephone's death and Elias could easily win her to his side if needed. There wasn't a woman in the lower nobility that hadn't graced his bed. One innocent little girl would be no difficulty for him to court. He would become King and then reinstate his family's status of nobility.
Or, the alternative was to use Persephone's absence to have the Senate turn around the decisions of the last Senate meet. Stravos' nobility would be returned by default and so would the inheritance to Elias' head as Lord Alehandros had no intention of taking on the mantel of king.
Either way... the crown landed upon his own temples and the throne beneath his deserving arse.
"I can do that." He ensured his mother, when she suggested him using his charm. "I can claim Emilia as my own, with ease. But it does me no good if she is not officially Queen." He glanced around at his mother. "Persephone's head must return to Athenia. Preferably without her body attached." The spark of violence entered his eyes as his long-held grudges against his cousin fuelled hatred into his words. She had had it so godsdamn easy. Born a princess, raised in the palati, learning how to appear the perfect monarch at her father's side. And then the man had just changed the law. Edited something so integral to the skeletal structure of Athenia. Flicked his wrist and determined that the pretty little nothing that was his daughter would rule.
It was an insult to everything the Senate stood for. Everything the people of Athenia lived by. And most of all... a Godsdamn insult to him and the perceived support and confidence in his rule.
Well... his first plan might have gone a little askew because a godsdamn pirate knew how to file paperwork - hardly a large oversight on his part - but his second had followed through well. Yes, his men had not managed to capture and kill the new Queen but they had run her from the country and managed to do it without being linked to Stravos. Everyone was still under the impression that renegade protestors of the law change had taken on the palace guards. He was not so hopeless as one might think. And now he had the chance to prove that...
In that moment, Elias became the center of her world again, looking on her son with a swelling pride that was ill-confined in her chest. As angry as he had made her, Circenia knew how intelligent her son was, how cunning and ruthless with a lust for power that rivalled her own. Her was her child through and through, a beautifully vain creature with her sharp wit and calculative mind. And like her, he would see this through to the end. He would make them all proud. He would ensure a Stravos reign.
“Yes, you are very right,” the princess agreed with her son’s assertion that they must bring her niece’s head back to Athenia, the corner of her thin mouth turning up in a smirk. “And the sooner the better. The longer she remains alive, the more traction she’ll gain. We can’t allow that to happen.”
Tapping her chin thoughtfully, Circenia nodded after a moment’s contemplation. “We’ll send out inquiries into the other kingdoms. Subtle ones, of course, nothing that can betray our true intentions. We mustn’t even let these subtle questions be traced back to us. We want nothing that links our name to it, should the Queen suffer something… unfortunate.”
The Stravos matriarch reveled in such a thought, relishing the idea of the young Queen’s self-righteous head rolling at her feet. As far as Circenia was concerned, Persephone had usurped the crown, had somehow warped her brother’s mind into changing the law for her own selfish gain. It should never have been her. It went against the laws of god and men to have a woman on Athenia’s throne, but if it was to be any woman, it should have been…
No. Best not to go down that road. The princess had made her peace with such things long ago. Now, it was her son’s time to shine. To prove to the Senate, to Athenia, to all of Greece, that her brother had made a grievous error. That Elias was the king they deserved all along.
Circenia placed her hands to either side of her child’s face, bringing it down to hers and laying a kiss against his forehead. Her precious boy, her brightest light. He would make them proud again, she just knew it. Nothing would bring them down again.
“We will make it happen, my son,” she said before she released him with one last stroke of her thumb over his cheekbone, her pride shining in her crystalline eyes. “Take the palace. Woo the princess. Kill the queen. Sit on the throne.” Her smirk curled into a real smile, brushing his shoulder before letting her hands fall back to her side.
“Athenia is all but yours, Elias. Don’t fail us now.”
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In that moment, Elias became the center of her world again, looking on her son with a swelling pride that was ill-confined in her chest. As angry as he had made her, Circenia knew how intelligent her son was, how cunning and ruthless with a lust for power that rivalled her own. Her was her child through and through, a beautifully vain creature with her sharp wit and calculative mind. And like her, he would see this through to the end. He would make them all proud. He would ensure a Stravos reign.
“Yes, you are very right,” the princess agreed with her son’s assertion that they must bring her niece’s head back to Athenia, the corner of her thin mouth turning up in a smirk. “And the sooner the better. The longer she remains alive, the more traction she’ll gain. We can’t allow that to happen.”
Tapping her chin thoughtfully, Circenia nodded after a moment’s contemplation. “We’ll send out inquiries into the other kingdoms. Subtle ones, of course, nothing that can betray our true intentions. We mustn’t even let these subtle questions be traced back to us. We want nothing that links our name to it, should the Queen suffer something… unfortunate.”
The Stravos matriarch reveled in such a thought, relishing the idea of the young Queen’s self-righteous head rolling at her feet. As far as Circenia was concerned, Persephone had usurped the crown, had somehow warped her brother’s mind into changing the law for her own selfish gain. It should never have been her. It went against the laws of god and men to have a woman on Athenia’s throne, but if it was to be any woman, it should have been…
No. Best not to go down that road. The princess had made her peace with such things long ago. Now, it was her son’s time to shine. To prove to the Senate, to Athenia, to all of Greece, that her brother had made a grievous error. That Elias was the king they deserved all along.
Circenia placed her hands to either side of her child’s face, bringing it down to hers and laying a kiss against his forehead. Her precious boy, her brightest light. He would make them proud again, she just knew it. Nothing would bring them down again.
“We will make it happen, my son,” she said before she released him with one last stroke of her thumb over his cheekbone, her pride shining in her crystalline eyes. “Take the palace. Woo the princess. Kill the queen. Sit on the throne.” Her smirk curled into a real smile, brushing his shoulder before letting her hands fall back to her side.
“Athenia is all but yours, Elias. Don’t fail us now.”
In that moment, Elias became the center of her world again, looking on her son with a swelling pride that was ill-confined in her chest. As angry as he had made her, Circenia knew how intelligent her son was, how cunning and ruthless with a lust for power that rivalled her own. Her was her child through and through, a beautifully vain creature with her sharp wit and calculative mind. And like her, he would see this through to the end. He would make them all proud. He would ensure a Stravos reign.
“Yes, you are very right,” the princess agreed with her son’s assertion that they must bring her niece’s head back to Athenia, the corner of her thin mouth turning up in a smirk. “And the sooner the better. The longer she remains alive, the more traction she’ll gain. We can’t allow that to happen.”
Tapping her chin thoughtfully, Circenia nodded after a moment’s contemplation. “We’ll send out inquiries into the other kingdoms. Subtle ones, of course, nothing that can betray our true intentions. We mustn’t even let these subtle questions be traced back to us. We want nothing that links our name to it, should the Queen suffer something… unfortunate.”
The Stravos matriarch reveled in such a thought, relishing the idea of the young Queen’s self-righteous head rolling at her feet. As far as Circenia was concerned, Persephone had usurped the crown, had somehow warped her brother’s mind into changing the law for her own selfish gain. It should never have been her. It went against the laws of god and men to have a woman on Athenia’s throne, but if it was to be any woman, it should have been…
No. Best not to go down that road. The princess had made her peace with such things long ago. Now, it was her son’s time to shine. To prove to the Senate, to Athenia, to all of Greece, that her brother had made a grievous error. That Elias was the king they deserved all along.
Circenia placed her hands to either side of her child’s face, bringing it down to hers and laying a kiss against his forehead. Her precious boy, her brightest light. He would make them proud again, she just knew it. Nothing would bring them down again.
“We will make it happen, my son,” she said before she released him with one last stroke of her thumb over his cheekbone, her pride shining in her crystalline eyes. “Take the palace. Woo the princess. Kill the queen. Sit on the throne.” Her smirk curled into a real smile, brushing his shoulder before letting her hands fall back to her side.
“Athenia is all but yours, Elias. Don’t fail us now.”