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The world was passing around her in a daze, people and noises and screams. It was all she could do to stay on her feet as she scrambled to keep up with Stephanos and the guard that had appeared to surround them. She was on a set course, until Stephanos sent her away or her father appeared to bring her home, otherwise she had no desire to leave the safety of the circle of guards that stood around them.
It felt like an age before they’d reached the safety of the palace courtyard, guards spreading out to check the rooms and surrounding area to be sure it was safe for their new king. The king. It was utterly surreal, and Pia wasn’t entirely sure this wasn’t some sort of horrible lucid nightmare brought on by the party the night before. Perhaps they would all wake up and the day would go smoothly, she would go with her sisters and father to the race, one of the Mikaelidas sons would win, and they would return home as normal. And then the bile rose in her throat once more and she knew it was no dream, not even a nightmare.
If he didn’t grant her the time now she would have to keep trying, but given the time and position they were in she needed to get it out now rather than later. A startling pain wracked her abdomen and she clutched both hands over it protectively. Desma had told her of this. That pains happened sometimes and they meant nothing. But sometimes they did. She needed a physician, and she needed him to know, before the worst happened and all was lost.
”Steph-your highness...I need to speak with you. Please, it’s of some importance.”
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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The world was passing around her in a daze, people and noises and screams. It was all she could do to stay on her feet as she scrambled to keep up with Stephanos and the guard that had appeared to surround them. She was on a set course, until Stephanos sent her away or her father appeared to bring her home, otherwise she had no desire to leave the safety of the circle of guards that stood around them.
It felt like an age before they’d reached the safety of the palace courtyard, guards spreading out to check the rooms and surrounding area to be sure it was safe for their new king. The king. It was utterly surreal, and Pia wasn’t entirely sure this wasn’t some sort of horrible lucid nightmare brought on by the party the night before. Perhaps they would all wake up and the day would go smoothly, she would go with her sisters and father to the race, one of the Mikaelidas sons would win, and they would return home as normal. And then the bile rose in her throat once more and she knew it was no dream, not even a nightmare.
If he didn’t grant her the time now she would have to keep trying, but given the time and position they were in she needed to get it out now rather than later. A startling pain wracked her abdomen and she clutched both hands over it protectively. Desma had told her of this. That pains happened sometimes and they meant nothing. But sometimes they did. She needed a physician, and she needed him to know, before the worst happened and all was lost.
”Steph-your highness...I need to speak with you. Please, it’s of some importance.”
The world was passing around her in a daze, people and noises and screams. It was all she could do to stay on her feet as she scrambled to keep up with Stephanos and the guard that had appeared to surround them. She was on a set course, until Stephanos sent her away or her father appeared to bring her home, otherwise she had no desire to leave the safety of the circle of guards that stood around them.
It felt like an age before they’d reached the safety of the palace courtyard, guards spreading out to check the rooms and surrounding area to be sure it was safe for their new king. The king. It was utterly surreal, and Pia wasn’t entirely sure this wasn’t some sort of horrible lucid nightmare brought on by the party the night before. Perhaps they would all wake up and the day would go smoothly, she would go with her sisters and father to the race, one of the Mikaelidas sons would win, and they would return home as normal. And then the bile rose in her throat once more and she knew it was no dream, not even a nightmare.
If he didn’t grant her the time now she would have to keep trying, but given the time and position they were in she needed to get it out now rather than later. A startling pain wracked her abdomen and she clutched both hands over it protectively. Desma had told her of this. That pains happened sometimes and they meant nothing. But sometimes they did. She needed a physician, and she needed him to know, before the worst happened and all was lost.
”Steph-your highness...I need to speak with you. Please, it’s of some importance.”
”Steph-your highness...I need to speak with you. Please, it’s of some importance.”
Stephanos barely heard her and he didn’t pay attention to what he did hear. He stood with his arms crossed, staring up at the black smoke obscuring the blue sky. It rose up in too many places for just the circus to be on fire. Even here the screams and shouts of the people reached him. Servants and slaves swarmed about the palace. Guards stood sentry around him, ready and waiting for any attack.
He was trying to remember what he knew of the Creed. His tutor hadn’t covered them in great detail and his father had spoken of them even less. Between himself and his brother, they’d never been mentioned at all. What he did remember was that they had inspired a reign of terror; exactly like what was happening now.
Vangelis’s sword had been taken to his room and his own sword brought to him. Armed with a sword he was comfortable using, he should have felt safer but he didn’t. He was exposed, a prime target in the palace but at least here he had guards and a thorough knowledge of every conceivable entrance and exit. No new guards were permitted within his sight; he had to know them, have worked with them countless times before. Perhaps he was being paranoid but after what had befallen his father and apparently his brother, he was not stupid. There would be no unnecessary risks on his part.
Xene was confined to her room under guard. His mother and younger sister he hadn’t seen. He didn’t want to see them. The last thing he needed was his mother screaming hysterically or the haunted look in Gianna’s eyes to distract him. Xene’s shock and grief had been enough.
He was finding it hard to think. Too many things were vying for his attention; his guards needed to be questioned; all the guards needed questioned. Who had failed the king? Who had failed his brother? There was no one to trust in his own palace and yet he had to place not only his life, but the life of his sister as well.
Xene was only here because she wasn’t much of a target and he was interested in her council when he had the headspace. As for Olympia? He finally glanced over his shoulder at her, now not sure why he’d insisted she stay with him. In the circus it had seemed so obvious that she was a vital target but time and distance now convinced him she might simply have been the easiest person to grab at the time. Achilleas had been right to want to escort her to her family.
“It can wait,” he said, his tone unusually firm. During the past couple months, He’d been nothing but unfailingly charming to her. They laughed and fell into bed fairly regularly, staying there until they were both utterly spent. She was fun and diverting but now she was a distraction he desperately didn’t need. For the first time in his life, he didn’t want a woman around. He needed to focus.
“I should have had Achilleas take you with him,” he turned fully to her this time, keeping his arms crossed. His gaze didn’t linger on her long. It slid back up to the sky were a new tendril of smoke spired up. It was strange not to feel anything at all except a vague curiosity; what was burning now? How many people were dead now?
“Your family is probably worried.” The tone he used suggested he was anything but concerned. He was getting restless, standing here, doing nothing but watching and listening to the mayhem outside. What he would have liked was nothing more than to have stayed with Vangelis in the arena, cutting down the cultists that had murdered his father. Instead, he did what he knew both his father and Zacharias would have both done in his position; he ran.
It felt cowardly but to allow himself to be cut down just so that he could gain bloody satisfaction would have been idiotic and reckless. Vangelis could risk his royal neck if he wanted, but his father was still alive and he had brothers that could step up to take his place. It rankled to think about, but he was the replacement; the last of his father’s line.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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”Steph-your highness...I need to speak with you. Please, it’s of some importance.”
Stephanos barely heard her and he didn’t pay attention to what he did hear. He stood with his arms crossed, staring up at the black smoke obscuring the blue sky. It rose up in too many places for just the circus to be on fire. Even here the screams and shouts of the people reached him. Servants and slaves swarmed about the palace. Guards stood sentry around him, ready and waiting for any attack.
He was trying to remember what he knew of the Creed. His tutor hadn’t covered them in great detail and his father had spoken of them even less. Between himself and his brother, they’d never been mentioned at all. What he did remember was that they had inspired a reign of terror; exactly like what was happening now.
Vangelis’s sword had been taken to his room and his own sword brought to him. Armed with a sword he was comfortable using, he should have felt safer but he didn’t. He was exposed, a prime target in the palace but at least here he had guards and a thorough knowledge of every conceivable entrance and exit. No new guards were permitted within his sight; he had to know them, have worked with them countless times before. Perhaps he was being paranoid but after what had befallen his father and apparently his brother, he was not stupid. There would be no unnecessary risks on his part.
Xene was confined to her room under guard. His mother and younger sister he hadn’t seen. He didn’t want to see them. The last thing he needed was his mother screaming hysterically or the haunted look in Gianna’s eyes to distract him. Xene’s shock and grief had been enough.
He was finding it hard to think. Too many things were vying for his attention; his guards needed to be questioned; all the guards needed questioned. Who had failed the king? Who had failed his brother? There was no one to trust in his own palace and yet he had to place not only his life, but the life of his sister as well.
Xene was only here because she wasn’t much of a target and he was interested in her council when he had the headspace. As for Olympia? He finally glanced over his shoulder at her, now not sure why he’d insisted she stay with him. In the circus it had seemed so obvious that she was a vital target but time and distance now convinced him she might simply have been the easiest person to grab at the time. Achilleas had been right to want to escort her to her family.
“It can wait,” he said, his tone unusually firm. During the past couple months, He’d been nothing but unfailingly charming to her. They laughed and fell into bed fairly regularly, staying there until they were both utterly spent. She was fun and diverting but now she was a distraction he desperately didn’t need. For the first time in his life, he didn’t want a woman around. He needed to focus.
“I should have had Achilleas take you with him,” he turned fully to her this time, keeping his arms crossed. His gaze didn’t linger on her long. It slid back up to the sky were a new tendril of smoke spired up. It was strange not to feel anything at all except a vague curiosity; what was burning now? How many people were dead now?
“Your family is probably worried.” The tone he used suggested he was anything but concerned. He was getting restless, standing here, doing nothing but watching and listening to the mayhem outside. What he would have liked was nothing more than to have stayed with Vangelis in the arena, cutting down the cultists that had murdered his father. Instead, he did what he knew both his father and Zacharias would have both done in his position; he ran.
It felt cowardly but to allow himself to be cut down just so that he could gain bloody satisfaction would have been idiotic and reckless. Vangelis could risk his royal neck if he wanted, but his father was still alive and he had brothers that could step up to take his place. It rankled to think about, but he was the replacement; the last of his father’s line.
”Steph-your highness...I need to speak with you. Please, it’s of some importance.”
Stephanos barely heard her and he didn’t pay attention to what he did hear. He stood with his arms crossed, staring up at the black smoke obscuring the blue sky. It rose up in too many places for just the circus to be on fire. Even here the screams and shouts of the people reached him. Servants and slaves swarmed about the palace. Guards stood sentry around him, ready and waiting for any attack.
He was trying to remember what he knew of the Creed. His tutor hadn’t covered them in great detail and his father had spoken of them even less. Between himself and his brother, they’d never been mentioned at all. What he did remember was that they had inspired a reign of terror; exactly like what was happening now.
Vangelis’s sword had been taken to his room and his own sword brought to him. Armed with a sword he was comfortable using, he should have felt safer but he didn’t. He was exposed, a prime target in the palace but at least here he had guards and a thorough knowledge of every conceivable entrance and exit. No new guards were permitted within his sight; he had to know them, have worked with them countless times before. Perhaps he was being paranoid but after what had befallen his father and apparently his brother, he was not stupid. There would be no unnecessary risks on his part.
Xene was confined to her room under guard. His mother and younger sister he hadn’t seen. He didn’t want to see them. The last thing he needed was his mother screaming hysterically or the haunted look in Gianna’s eyes to distract him. Xene’s shock and grief had been enough.
He was finding it hard to think. Too many things were vying for his attention; his guards needed to be questioned; all the guards needed questioned. Who had failed the king? Who had failed his brother? There was no one to trust in his own palace and yet he had to place not only his life, but the life of his sister as well.
Xene was only here because she wasn’t much of a target and he was interested in her council when he had the headspace. As for Olympia? He finally glanced over his shoulder at her, now not sure why he’d insisted she stay with him. In the circus it had seemed so obvious that she was a vital target but time and distance now convinced him she might simply have been the easiest person to grab at the time. Achilleas had been right to want to escort her to her family.
“It can wait,” he said, his tone unusually firm. During the past couple months, He’d been nothing but unfailingly charming to her. They laughed and fell into bed fairly regularly, staying there until they were both utterly spent. She was fun and diverting but now she was a distraction he desperately didn’t need. For the first time in his life, he didn’t want a woman around. He needed to focus.
“I should have had Achilleas take you with him,” he turned fully to her this time, keeping his arms crossed. His gaze didn’t linger on her long. It slid back up to the sky were a new tendril of smoke spired up. It was strange not to feel anything at all except a vague curiosity; what was burning now? How many people were dead now?
“Your family is probably worried.” The tone he used suggested he was anything but concerned. He was getting restless, standing here, doing nothing but watching and listening to the mayhem outside. What he would have liked was nothing more than to have stayed with Vangelis in the arena, cutting down the cultists that had murdered his father. Instead, he did what he knew both his father and Zacharias would have both done in his position; he ran.
It felt cowardly but to allow himself to be cut down just so that he could gain bloody satisfaction would have been idiotic and reckless. Vangelis could risk his royal neck if he wanted, but his father was still alive and he had brothers that could step up to take his place. It rankled to think about, but he was the replacement; the last of his father’s line.
His tone made her bristle as another, though less sharp, pain rolled through her stomach. It felt as if her monthly courses had come after nearly five months of waiting for them to return, and now she was done waiting. Done waiting for him, for the old king, for herself to be ready. The world was falling apart around them and Mikaelidas men seemed to be a target. If she went home, and somehow another in this world knew before Stephanos that she potentially carried yet another male of the line, they would all be in danger. Her father might keep her well guarded, but if these people had been able to get through to Zenon, who was to say they couldn't get through even Georgios' most noble and strong of men.
"It's waited nearly five months. We can't wait any longer."
There was a bitterness to her tone that she attributed to the pain and stress. Never before had she and Stephanos spoken to one another in more than flirtatious or impassioned tones, even when they spoke of normal things there had been a weighted lust to the moment. Not now, now was death and war and the end.
"Achilleas wanted to see to my sister, nothing more. They may all be worried but I fear for what may happen if a physician is not found. I'm with child, Stephanos. It can only be of Mikaelidas blood. I've been with no other."
It wasn't the way she'd been planning to say it, and certainly when her voice cracked in her fantasies it had been with joyous tears, not utter terror and anxiety. Now it was in his hands. None of the words she'd said had been a lie, it could only be heir to Stephanos or Zenon himself, in either case she now knew the full value of what she held. Wrapping her arms around herself protectively, she placed a hand over her abdomen to show the beginning of the swell that grew there, tensed as if expecting him to strike or a loose arrow to fly through.
Pia couldn't hide the exhaustion any longer, it was plain on her face and body that the day had taken a toll, her voice softer this time.
"Please..for your son."
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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His tone made her bristle as another, though less sharp, pain rolled through her stomach. It felt as if her monthly courses had come after nearly five months of waiting for them to return, and now she was done waiting. Done waiting for him, for the old king, for herself to be ready. The world was falling apart around them and Mikaelidas men seemed to be a target. If she went home, and somehow another in this world knew before Stephanos that she potentially carried yet another male of the line, they would all be in danger. Her father might keep her well guarded, but if these people had been able to get through to Zenon, who was to say they couldn't get through even Georgios' most noble and strong of men.
"It's waited nearly five months. We can't wait any longer."
There was a bitterness to her tone that she attributed to the pain and stress. Never before had she and Stephanos spoken to one another in more than flirtatious or impassioned tones, even when they spoke of normal things there had been a weighted lust to the moment. Not now, now was death and war and the end.
"Achilleas wanted to see to my sister, nothing more. They may all be worried but I fear for what may happen if a physician is not found. I'm with child, Stephanos. It can only be of Mikaelidas blood. I've been with no other."
It wasn't the way she'd been planning to say it, and certainly when her voice cracked in her fantasies it had been with joyous tears, not utter terror and anxiety. Now it was in his hands. None of the words she'd said had been a lie, it could only be heir to Stephanos or Zenon himself, in either case she now knew the full value of what she held. Wrapping her arms around herself protectively, she placed a hand over her abdomen to show the beginning of the swell that grew there, tensed as if expecting him to strike or a loose arrow to fly through.
Pia couldn't hide the exhaustion any longer, it was plain on her face and body that the day had taken a toll, her voice softer this time.
"Please..for your son."
His tone made her bristle as another, though less sharp, pain rolled through her stomach. It felt as if her monthly courses had come after nearly five months of waiting for them to return, and now she was done waiting. Done waiting for him, for the old king, for herself to be ready. The world was falling apart around them and Mikaelidas men seemed to be a target. If she went home, and somehow another in this world knew before Stephanos that she potentially carried yet another male of the line, they would all be in danger. Her father might keep her well guarded, but if these people had been able to get through to Zenon, who was to say they couldn't get through even Georgios' most noble and strong of men.
"It's waited nearly five months. We can't wait any longer."
There was a bitterness to her tone that she attributed to the pain and stress. Never before had she and Stephanos spoken to one another in more than flirtatious or impassioned tones, even when they spoke of normal things there had been a weighted lust to the moment. Not now, now was death and war and the end.
"Achilleas wanted to see to my sister, nothing more. They may all be worried but I fear for what may happen if a physician is not found. I'm with child, Stephanos. It can only be of Mikaelidas blood. I've been with no other."
It wasn't the way she'd been planning to say it, and certainly when her voice cracked in her fantasies it had been with joyous tears, not utter terror and anxiety. Now it was in his hands. None of the words she'd said had been a lie, it could only be heir to Stephanos or Zenon himself, in either case she now knew the full value of what she held. Wrapping her arms around herself protectively, she placed a hand over her abdomen to show the beginning of the swell that grew there, tensed as if expecting him to strike or a loose arrow to fly through.
Pia couldn't hide the exhaustion any longer, it was plain on her face and body that the day had taken a toll, her voice softer this time.
"Please..for your son."
The trip to the royal palace was dangerous at best and lethal and worst. The members of the Creed had not simply set alight the stadium of the circus and, having made their point, disappeared into the ether. No. Instead, they had scattered amongst the city, using their preferred method of terror - arson - to scare people from their homes and send shrieking, fearful civilians out onto the streets. The entirety of Vasiliadon was in uproar. Chaos reigned and mania was apparent. In the eyes of everyone he passed, Vangelis could see hysteria creeping.
What in the name of the Gods was Stephanos going to do about this?
Vangelis had a few ideas but this wasn't his kingdom - it wasn't his nation - and right now, on this day, Stephanos would be defining what kind of a king he wanted to define himself as for his new people. It had to be his decision on how things would proceed from here.
As he fought through the streets, Vangelis was careful to kill or at least knock out as many of the Drowned Ones who came into his path as possible. Unfortunately, with only one hand free and a destination he needed to get to quickly, there were many instances were skating past a threat or avoiding conflict to turn down a different alley was the most logical option. But it was hard to do. Vangelis was used to fighting battles on Ares' dancefloor, not on the cobbled streets of a civilian city. Where he was used to fighting, all that moved were either enemies or foes and there were no obstacles in the middle; no innocents caught up in the ruckus. This was entirely different. And entirely impossible.
So, Vangelis allowed his knowledge as a military commander to override his emotional sense of justice and protection. In the end, he could save more people by lending the new King a man he could trust - a combatant he could use - over a dead crown prince who tried to play hero alone in the streets.
Not that he was entirely alone. Nike followed behind him like a shadow, his slim and agile bodyguard - the one who, out of all of them, he trusted the most to have his back. The Taengean soldier - whose name he still did not know, was running at his left, creating the third line of the arrow they cut through the streets.
The three of them, fighting together, made a quick and direct route to the palace.
Considering Vangelis had been staying within its walls for the last few days and was royalty in his own right (as the only royal in the kingdom representing his kingdom, he was almost on par authority wise, with the new kingdom, save for his lack of being native to Taengea) and the fact that he and both of the other two were clearly bloody and battered from fighting cultists, the guards at the palace let them through.
Vangelis ordered a man to take him directly to Stephanos, only to find him hesitating.
"Let's go! There's no time!" He ordered the man, who jumped at the abrupt tone and quickly ran them down two corridors, up three flights of stairs and into the royal family chambers.
The entire way there, Vangelis could hear the screams of the Taengean people. Whether because they were close enough to be heard or because they were simply still ringing in his ears, he wasn't sure. But given the grim look on Nike's face, he was going with the former.
If this had been any other circumstance, Vangelis would have ordered the head to be taken to the treasury vault, out of the way until the panic was over and Stephanos might have the peace of mind to deal with the situation. And yet, given the circumstances of the man's death - the fact that no-one in the palace could really be trusted... It became difficult for Vangelis to let go of such an important piece of Stephanos' family and heritage. If anything were to happen to the head, the man wouldn't be able to lay his father to rest - he would have no eyes to rest Charon's coins upon.
He couldn't risk the bundle he carried to be stolen to destroyed in the wrong hands.
And so... when he, Nike and the soldier finally reached the royal chambers, the Taengean cloaked bundle in his arms, the crown around the soldier's forearm and the cape of the crown prince over Nike's shoulder, the guards at the door were understandably unsure about whether to let them in or not. Covered in blood from head to toe, the three of them must have looked more the enemy than ally.
"Your king is safe from us." Prince Vangelis spoke in a tone that defied all argument. "And we need to speak with him immediately."
After being subjected to a close examination and having all their weapons removed - including Vangelis' hidden daggers (he said nothing of it and did not refuse the disarmament, given recent events) - they were allowed into a large private room, in which Prince Stephanos and Lady Olympia stood but a few metres away from each other, clearly in the middle of a tense conversation.
Vangelis could practically feel the pregnant pause he had walked into.
Waiting by the door for a moment, as the guards shut him, Nike and the Taengean inside, Vangelis gave a calm gesture with his hand to ensure that the Commander stay by the door and stay quiet - the other soldier was not his to command. Even without her weapons, the woman was a force to be reckoned with and he was always more comfortable with her watching his main form of entry and exit.
When neither of the room's inhabitants spoke to continue their conversation or acknowledge his presence, Vangelis took a step forward, his attitude calm.
"Your Majesty?" He asked towards the new monarch of Taengea, his hands holding the bundle he had rescued from the stadium, carefully at his front. "Stephanos?" He asked again when the man seemed dazed.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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The trip to the royal palace was dangerous at best and lethal and worst. The members of the Creed had not simply set alight the stadium of the circus and, having made their point, disappeared into the ether. No. Instead, they had scattered amongst the city, using their preferred method of terror - arson - to scare people from their homes and send shrieking, fearful civilians out onto the streets. The entirety of Vasiliadon was in uproar. Chaos reigned and mania was apparent. In the eyes of everyone he passed, Vangelis could see hysteria creeping.
What in the name of the Gods was Stephanos going to do about this?
Vangelis had a few ideas but this wasn't his kingdom - it wasn't his nation - and right now, on this day, Stephanos would be defining what kind of a king he wanted to define himself as for his new people. It had to be his decision on how things would proceed from here.
As he fought through the streets, Vangelis was careful to kill or at least knock out as many of the Drowned Ones who came into his path as possible. Unfortunately, with only one hand free and a destination he needed to get to quickly, there were many instances were skating past a threat or avoiding conflict to turn down a different alley was the most logical option. But it was hard to do. Vangelis was used to fighting battles on Ares' dancefloor, not on the cobbled streets of a civilian city. Where he was used to fighting, all that moved were either enemies or foes and there were no obstacles in the middle; no innocents caught up in the ruckus. This was entirely different. And entirely impossible.
So, Vangelis allowed his knowledge as a military commander to override his emotional sense of justice and protection. In the end, he could save more people by lending the new King a man he could trust - a combatant he could use - over a dead crown prince who tried to play hero alone in the streets.
Not that he was entirely alone. Nike followed behind him like a shadow, his slim and agile bodyguard - the one who, out of all of them, he trusted the most to have his back. The Taengean soldier - whose name he still did not know, was running at his left, creating the third line of the arrow they cut through the streets.
The three of them, fighting together, made a quick and direct route to the palace.
Considering Vangelis had been staying within its walls for the last few days and was royalty in his own right (as the only royal in the kingdom representing his kingdom, he was almost on par authority wise, with the new kingdom, save for his lack of being native to Taengea) and the fact that he and both of the other two were clearly bloody and battered from fighting cultists, the guards at the palace let them through.
Vangelis ordered a man to take him directly to Stephanos, only to find him hesitating.
"Let's go! There's no time!" He ordered the man, who jumped at the abrupt tone and quickly ran them down two corridors, up three flights of stairs and into the royal family chambers.
The entire way there, Vangelis could hear the screams of the Taengean people. Whether because they were close enough to be heard or because they were simply still ringing in his ears, he wasn't sure. But given the grim look on Nike's face, he was going with the former.
If this had been any other circumstance, Vangelis would have ordered the head to be taken to the treasury vault, out of the way until the panic was over and Stephanos might have the peace of mind to deal with the situation. And yet, given the circumstances of the man's death - the fact that no-one in the palace could really be trusted... It became difficult for Vangelis to let go of such an important piece of Stephanos' family and heritage. If anything were to happen to the head, the man wouldn't be able to lay his father to rest - he would have no eyes to rest Charon's coins upon.
He couldn't risk the bundle he carried to be stolen to destroyed in the wrong hands.
And so... when he, Nike and the soldier finally reached the royal chambers, the Taengean cloaked bundle in his arms, the crown around the soldier's forearm and the cape of the crown prince over Nike's shoulder, the guards at the door were understandably unsure about whether to let them in or not. Covered in blood from head to toe, the three of them must have looked more the enemy than ally.
"Your king is safe from us." Prince Vangelis spoke in a tone that defied all argument. "And we need to speak with him immediately."
After being subjected to a close examination and having all their weapons removed - including Vangelis' hidden daggers (he said nothing of it and did not refuse the disarmament, given recent events) - they were allowed into a large private room, in which Prince Stephanos and Lady Olympia stood but a few metres away from each other, clearly in the middle of a tense conversation.
Vangelis could practically feel the pregnant pause he had walked into.
Waiting by the door for a moment, as the guards shut him, Nike and the Taengean inside, Vangelis gave a calm gesture with his hand to ensure that the Commander stay by the door and stay quiet - the other soldier was not his to command. Even without her weapons, the woman was a force to be reckoned with and he was always more comfortable with her watching his main form of entry and exit.
When neither of the room's inhabitants spoke to continue their conversation or acknowledge his presence, Vangelis took a step forward, his attitude calm.
"Your Majesty?" He asked towards the new monarch of Taengea, his hands holding the bundle he had rescued from the stadium, carefully at his front. "Stephanos?" He asked again when the man seemed dazed.
The trip to the royal palace was dangerous at best and lethal and worst. The members of the Creed had not simply set alight the stadium of the circus and, having made their point, disappeared into the ether. No. Instead, they had scattered amongst the city, using their preferred method of terror - arson - to scare people from their homes and send shrieking, fearful civilians out onto the streets. The entirety of Vasiliadon was in uproar. Chaos reigned and mania was apparent. In the eyes of everyone he passed, Vangelis could see hysteria creeping.
What in the name of the Gods was Stephanos going to do about this?
Vangelis had a few ideas but this wasn't his kingdom - it wasn't his nation - and right now, on this day, Stephanos would be defining what kind of a king he wanted to define himself as for his new people. It had to be his decision on how things would proceed from here.
As he fought through the streets, Vangelis was careful to kill or at least knock out as many of the Drowned Ones who came into his path as possible. Unfortunately, with only one hand free and a destination he needed to get to quickly, there were many instances were skating past a threat or avoiding conflict to turn down a different alley was the most logical option. But it was hard to do. Vangelis was used to fighting battles on Ares' dancefloor, not on the cobbled streets of a civilian city. Where he was used to fighting, all that moved were either enemies or foes and there were no obstacles in the middle; no innocents caught up in the ruckus. This was entirely different. And entirely impossible.
So, Vangelis allowed his knowledge as a military commander to override his emotional sense of justice and protection. In the end, he could save more people by lending the new King a man he could trust - a combatant he could use - over a dead crown prince who tried to play hero alone in the streets.
Not that he was entirely alone. Nike followed behind him like a shadow, his slim and agile bodyguard - the one who, out of all of them, he trusted the most to have his back. The Taengean soldier - whose name he still did not know, was running at his left, creating the third line of the arrow they cut through the streets.
The three of them, fighting together, made a quick and direct route to the palace.
Considering Vangelis had been staying within its walls for the last few days and was royalty in his own right (as the only royal in the kingdom representing his kingdom, he was almost on par authority wise, with the new kingdom, save for his lack of being native to Taengea) and the fact that he and both of the other two were clearly bloody and battered from fighting cultists, the guards at the palace let them through.
Vangelis ordered a man to take him directly to Stephanos, only to find him hesitating.
"Let's go! There's no time!" He ordered the man, who jumped at the abrupt tone and quickly ran them down two corridors, up three flights of stairs and into the royal family chambers.
The entire way there, Vangelis could hear the screams of the Taengean people. Whether because they were close enough to be heard or because they were simply still ringing in his ears, he wasn't sure. But given the grim look on Nike's face, he was going with the former.
If this had been any other circumstance, Vangelis would have ordered the head to be taken to the treasury vault, out of the way until the panic was over and Stephanos might have the peace of mind to deal with the situation. And yet, given the circumstances of the man's death - the fact that no-one in the palace could really be trusted... It became difficult for Vangelis to let go of such an important piece of Stephanos' family and heritage. If anything were to happen to the head, the man wouldn't be able to lay his father to rest - he would have no eyes to rest Charon's coins upon.
He couldn't risk the bundle he carried to be stolen to destroyed in the wrong hands.
And so... when he, Nike and the soldier finally reached the royal chambers, the Taengean cloaked bundle in his arms, the crown around the soldier's forearm and the cape of the crown prince over Nike's shoulder, the guards at the door were understandably unsure about whether to let them in or not. Covered in blood from head to toe, the three of them must have looked more the enemy than ally.
"Your king is safe from us." Prince Vangelis spoke in a tone that defied all argument. "And we need to speak with him immediately."
After being subjected to a close examination and having all their weapons removed - including Vangelis' hidden daggers (he said nothing of it and did not refuse the disarmament, given recent events) - they were allowed into a large private room, in which Prince Stephanos and Lady Olympia stood but a few metres away from each other, clearly in the middle of a tense conversation.
Vangelis could practically feel the pregnant pause he had walked into.
Waiting by the door for a moment, as the guards shut him, Nike and the Taengean inside, Vangelis gave a calm gesture with his hand to ensure that the Commander stay by the door and stay quiet - the other soldier was not his to command. Even without her weapons, the woman was a force to be reckoned with and he was always more comfortable with her watching his main form of entry and exit.
When neither of the room's inhabitants spoke to continue their conversation or acknowledge his presence, Vangelis took a step forward, his attitude calm.
"Your Majesty?" He asked towards the new monarch of Taengea, his hands holding the bundle he had rescued from the stadium, carefully at his front. "Stephanos?" He asked again when the man seemed dazed.
It didn't end at the stadium.
The whole way to the castle as Nike followed behind her general, her whole body buzzed on high alert as she ran along the streets. It was a stark difference now as compared to when the festival was in full swing. Instead of people singing and screaming in celebration, fire, blood and terror reigned chaos across the Vasiliadon.
Following her general's lead, Nike had done away with trying to capture them alive - they've got enough for now. Until the captured ones have been questioned, Nike was going to cull as many of the hooded figures as possible. At the very least it will help Taengea reduce the number they have to deal with.
As such, the whole way thre, Nike kept one eye on her general (because his suicical tendencies have taught her to always have an eye on him), and the other alert, stabbing and parring as they passed by the Drowned ones, making a quick albeit less direct route to the palace, as the dodged just as much as they attacked, the three fighting together.
By the time they made it up the flights of stairs to the royal family chambers, the, the commander found herself wondering just how exactly three blood-soaked people could be allowed in to the Great Hall of the Taengean royalty residences. Allowing all her weapons to be stripped due to circumstances, she kept her silence, and yet her hair stood on end the moment she stepped in the hall, and eyes fell on the new king and who Nike suspected was one of the sisters who Vangelis had accompanied later.
And she knew the hair on end had nothing to do with all the blood she was currently soaked in.
Taking in the tense atmosphere, her senses picked up on the mildly awkward situation (even if she had spent eight years dressed as a male,she still was a female and had some form of tact as that), and couldn't be more grateful when Vangelis gestured at her to stay at the door, more then happy to let him deal with the delicate situation as she shrugged the cloak down so she now held the piece in her hands.
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It didn't end at the stadium.
The whole way to the castle as Nike followed behind her general, her whole body buzzed on high alert as she ran along the streets. It was a stark difference now as compared to when the festival was in full swing. Instead of people singing and screaming in celebration, fire, blood and terror reigned chaos across the Vasiliadon.
Following her general's lead, Nike had done away with trying to capture them alive - they've got enough for now. Until the captured ones have been questioned, Nike was going to cull as many of the hooded figures as possible. At the very least it will help Taengea reduce the number they have to deal with.
As such, the whole way thre, Nike kept one eye on her general (because his suicical tendencies have taught her to always have an eye on him), and the other alert, stabbing and parring as they passed by the Drowned ones, making a quick albeit less direct route to the palace, as the dodged just as much as they attacked, the three fighting together.
By the time they made it up the flights of stairs to the royal family chambers, the, the commander found herself wondering just how exactly three blood-soaked people could be allowed in to the Great Hall of the Taengean royalty residences. Allowing all her weapons to be stripped due to circumstances, she kept her silence, and yet her hair stood on end the moment she stepped in the hall, and eyes fell on the new king and who Nike suspected was one of the sisters who Vangelis had accompanied later.
And she knew the hair on end had nothing to do with all the blood she was currently soaked in.
Taking in the tense atmosphere, her senses picked up on the mildly awkward situation (even if she had spent eight years dressed as a male,she still was a female and had some form of tact as that), and couldn't be more grateful when Vangelis gestured at her to stay at the door, more then happy to let him deal with the delicate situation as she shrugged the cloak down so she now held the piece in her hands.
It didn't end at the stadium.
The whole way to the castle as Nike followed behind her general, her whole body buzzed on high alert as she ran along the streets. It was a stark difference now as compared to when the festival was in full swing. Instead of people singing and screaming in celebration, fire, blood and terror reigned chaos across the Vasiliadon.
Following her general's lead, Nike had done away with trying to capture them alive - they've got enough for now. Until the captured ones have been questioned, Nike was going to cull as many of the hooded figures as possible. At the very least it will help Taengea reduce the number they have to deal with.
As such, the whole way thre, Nike kept one eye on her general (because his suicical tendencies have taught her to always have an eye on him), and the other alert, stabbing and parring as they passed by the Drowned ones, making a quick albeit less direct route to the palace, as the dodged just as much as they attacked, the three fighting together.
By the time they made it up the flights of stairs to the royal family chambers, the, the commander found herself wondering just how exactly three blood-soaked people could be allowed in to the Great Hall of the Taengean royalty residences. Allowing all her weapons to be stripped due to circumstances, she kept her silence, and yet her hair stood on end the moment she stepped in the hall, and eyes fell on the new king and who Nike suspected was one of the sisters who Vangelis had accompanied later.
And she knew the hair on end had nothing to do with all the blood she was currently soaked in.
Taking in the tense atmosphere, her senses picked up on the mildly awkward situation (even if she had spent eight years dressed as a male,she still was a female and had some form of tact as that), and couldn't be more grateful when Vangelis gestured at her to stay at the door, more then happy to let him deal with the delicate situation as she shrugged the cloak down so she now held the piece in her hands.
Hell reigned throughout the streets, pillars of smokes towered over the trio like titans, while the damned creed swarmed the their path like starving imps. Imps which Alypius had no problem in culling. Alypius was no man for bloody murder, or the slaughtering of large numbers, however after the current events, and the death of his late king, his feeling at this point where mixed.
Rushing throughout the cobblestone streets, the crown around his forearm, the lieutenant fought with a furious battle sense not seen back at the stadium. No he was out for blood at this point, although he did not savour every kill. It left a sickening sense in his stomach to be covered in so much blood, yet in the back of his mind he kept telling himself. “The more drowned dead, the more innocents saved.”
Marching with his newly discovered allies up to the palace entrance, the soldier forced the screams of the people he was sworn to protect out of his mind. His innate sense of loyalty to his kingdom told him to charge back, to continue fighting until the last creed member dropped dead, or until he fell by the last drop of his blood. Yet faced with the doors of the palace, his feet dragged him forward.
He held the crown of the fallen king, and he would be damned if he was not the one to return it to the new king.
Marching throughout the palace, adrenalin pumping throughout his veins, Alypius was less than willing to give up his weapons, yet he was no stupid man. He understood the severity of the situation and would not prolong anything by his own foolish nature. With a long sigh, he removed his trusty long sword, transferring the crown into both his hands. His grip upon it was tight. It took no genius to see how cautious was whilst holding the crown, how sick it made him to know it was in his hands, and how much respect he showed to it.
With the trio entering the room, blood soaked and dripping from his armour, he wiped his face of the blood that stained his cheeks. He felt as if he should bow to the new king, yet this was not the situation for it, King Stephanos was occupied within his own quarrels at the moment. If he was addressed he would pay the proper respect tenfold, however for now, he stood on the opposite side of the door from the commander.
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Staff Team
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Hell reigned throughout the streets, pillars of smokes towered over the trio like titans, while the damned creed swarmed the their path like starving imps. Imps which Alypius had no problem in culling. Alypius was no man for bloody murder, or the slaughtering of large numbers, however after the current events, and the death of his late king, his feeling at this point where mixed.
Rushing throughout the cobblestone streets, the crown around his forearm, the lieutenant fought with a furious battle sense not seen back at the stadium. No he was out for blood at this point, although he did not savour every kill. It left a sickening sense in his stomach to be covered in so much blood, yet in the back of his mind he kept telling himself. “The more drowned dead, the more innocents saved.”
Marching with his newly discovered allies up to the palace entrance, the soldier forced the screams of the people he was sworn to protect out of his mind. His innate sense of loyalty to his kingdom told him to charge back, to continue fighting until the last creed member dropped dead, or until he fell by the last drop of his blood. Yet faced with the doors of the palace, his feet dragged him forward.
He held the crown of the fallen king, and he would be damned if he was not the one to return it to the new king.
Marching throughout the palace, adrenalin pumping throughout his veins, Alypius was less than willing to give up his weapons, yet he was no stupid man. He understood the severity of the situation and would not prolong anything by his own foolish nature. With a long sigh, he removed his trusty long sword, transferring the crown into both his hands. His grip upon it was tight. It took no genius to see how cautious was whilst holding the crown, how sick it made him to know it was in his hands, and how much respect he showed to it.
With the trio entering the room, blood soaked and dripping from his armour, he wiped his face of the blood that stained his cheeks. He felt as if he should bow to the new king, yet this was not the situation for it, King Stephanos was occupied within his own quarrels at the moment. If he was addressed he would pay the proper respect tenfold, however for now, he stood on the opposite side of the door from the commander.
Hell reigned throughout the streets, pillars of smokes towered over the trio like titans, while the damned creed swarmed the their path like starving imps. Imps which Alypius had no problem in culling. Alypius was no man for bloody murder, or the slaughtering of large numbers, however after the current events, and the death of his late king, his feeling at this point where mixed.
Rushing throughout the cobblestone streets, the crown around his forearm, the lieutenant fought with a furious battle sense not seen back at the stadium. No he was out for blood at this point, although he did not savour every kill. It left a sickening sense in his stomach to be covered in so much blood, yet in the back of his mind he kept telling himself. “The more drowned dead, the more innocents saved.”
Marching with his newly discovered allies up to the palace entrance, the soldier forced the screams of the people he was sworn to protect out of his mind. His innate sense of loyalty to his kingdom told him to charge back, to continue fighting until the last creed member dropped dead, or until he fell by the last drop of his blood. Yet faced with the doors of the palace, his feet dragged him forward.
He held the crown of the fallen king, and he would be damned if he was not the one to return it to the new king.
Marching throughout the palace, adrenalin pumping throughout his veins, Alypius was less than willing to give up his weapons, yet he was no stupid man. He understood the severity of the situation and would not prolong anything by his own foolish nature. With a long sigh, he removed his trusty long sword, transferring the crown into both his hands. His grip upon it was tight. It took no genius to see how cautious was whilst holding the crown, how sick it made him to know it was in his hands, and how much respect he showed to it.
With the trio entering the room, blood soaked and dripping from his armour, he wiped his face of the blood that stained his cheeks. He felt as if he should bow to the new king, yet this was not the situation for it, King Stephanos was occupied within his own quarrels at the moment. If he was addressed he would pay the proper respect tenfold, however for now, he stood on the opposite side of the door from the commander.
This he did not need. “Pia-” he turned away from her as her name slipped from between his lips in an irritated sigh. If she’d waited five months to speak, then by Zeus and Hades she could wait a few minutes. Or forever. Whatever she had to say could not possibly be of as much significance as any of the plans he was organizing in his head at that very moment.
She changed tack when he cut across her, answering his earlier comment about Achilleas.
"Achilleas wanted to see to my sister, nothing more…”
He waved her off. His cousin’s reasons didn’t matter. What did matter was that his cousin had done as ordered; something that should not and would not have been surprising in different circumstances. The irritated bewilderment that had momentarily crossed Achilleas’s face in the burning arena when asked for Irakles’s whereabouts had not gone unnoticed. Again his thoughts spun away from Pia, tearing off in a new, unpleasant direction; was his uncle actually behind this? If he was, he had a lot of support.
His eyes were on her but his gaze was inward. He did not trust Irakles. He did not like Irakles but neither of those things was enough to condemn a man without evidence. The new question became: did his uncle want the throne so badly that he would murder his own brother and two nephews to get it? Would he burn the circus and half the city to cover his trail?
“They may all be worried but I fear for what may happen if a physician is not found.”
The word physician caught his attention only momentarily. Blinking, he raked her once over with his gaze, found nothing amiss, and ceased to listen again, walking a few steps away this time. He was frustrated. If Irakles had a hand in this, it must have been very minor indeed. Of course his uncle stood to gain but how did he have the resources? How many families were allied to his cause?
“I'm with child, Stephanos. It can only be of Mikaelidas blood. I've been with no other."
“Not now!” The words exploded out of his mouth. He whirled around, angry beyond reason. “Just shut up! I can’t do this with you. Not now! Just-” he didn’t trust himself to speak. Instead he balled his hands into fists. Perfect. A guard poked his head in, mentioning that an audience with him was requested. He wanted to unleash his pent up fury but he didn’t dare around Olympia; if he let go of the chaos inside, he wasn’t sure he could stop with just verbal rage.
“No one,” he shouted. “No one comes in.” His icy glare was on Olympia as he spoke to the guard. After a moment, when he felt more master of himself, he bent so that he was level with her face. “You’re not the first who has tried this,” he said, his voice now deceptively calm. How she could be so cold and calculating as to try to trap him while Vasiliadon burned was amazing. Several golden haired, blue eyed bastards were born to women of note, all of whom were either already married, or very soon wed someone of his father’s choosing. Her fate would be the same.
Voices drew his attention and he straightened back up to find Prince Vangelis striding in, Commander Nike, and an unfamiliar Tangean soldier in his wake. In the Colchian prince’s hands was a bundle, its bottom soaked in red. All of the misdirected rage he’d flung at Pia melted away to be replaced by empty nothing. His eyes moved toward Commander Nike and the cloak in her hands. At last, he looked at the unknown soldier, holding his father’s crown.
Numbly he reached out for the bag. He felt like a rock sat in the pit of his stomach. No part of him wanted to grab the bag but he did it anyway, careful to take hold of the material only. It was heavier than he expected and he stood with it hanging awkwardly at his side, ignoring the feel of it against the side of his knee.
His eyes rested on the crown again and what Pia told him finally clicked into place. She was unmarried. Pregnant. With his son. The line of Mikaelidas was in extreme jeopardy as long as he was also unmarried and without an heir.
It felt like an eternity, but he finally dragged his eyes back to her, a little sheepishly but more shrewd than before. He was less reactive and a little more calculating. “I need a physician,” he said to one of the guards. “Now.” The man turned, giving the message to another guard and so on until it reached the proper channels.
If he’d had his choice, he would not marry a Leventi girl. However, she was the one pregnant and available. If he spurned her to find another woman more suitable, he was not assured that the next woman would be with child so easily. There was always the risk of a barren wife. Olympia had already proved that she was capable of becoming pregnant, at least.
Turning his back on the others, he moved back over to her, caught her hand, and tugged her to him, resting his lips against her ear so that his words were for her alone. “You’ve been with no one else?” he asked, waiting for her reply and then, “Be easy. Let’s see what happens in the next few hours.” Letting go of her hand, he rested his on her belly. He wished that Vangelis had not come but he didn’t want him to leave either. What he wanted was privacy he could not have with Pia.
“I shouldn’t have yelled,” he murmured to her, still very aware that his words might be overheard. It was uncomfortable but not unfamiliar. All his life had been on public display. Why not this apology too?
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This he did not need. “Pia-” he turned away from her as her name slipped from between his lips in an irritated sigh. If she’d waited five months to speak, then by Zeus and Hades she could wait a few minutes. Or forever. Whatever she had to say could not possibly be of as much significance as any of the plans he was organizing in his head at that very moment.
She changed tack when he cut across her, answering his earlier comment about Achilleas.
"Achilleas wanted to see to my sister, nothing more…”
He waved her off. His cousin’s reasons didn’t matter. What did matter was that his cousin had done as ordered; something that should not and would not have been surprising in different circumstances. The irritated bewilderment that had momentarily crossed Achilleas’s face in the burning arena when asked for Irakles’s whereabouts had not gone unnoticed. Again his thoughts spun away from Pia, tearing off in a new, unpleasant direction; was his uncle actually behind this? If he was, he had a lot of support.
His eyes were on her but his gaze was inward. He did not trust Irakles. He did not like Irakles but neither of those things was enough to condemn a man without evidence. The new question became: did his uncle want the throne so badly that he would murder his own brother and two nephews to get it? Would he burn the circus and half the city to cover his trail?
“They may all be worried but I fear for what may happen if a physician is not found.”
The word physician caught his attention only momentarily. Blinking, he raked her once over with his gaze, found nothing amiss, and ceased to listen again, walking a few steps away this time. He was frustrated. If Irakles had a hand in this, it must have been very minor indeed. Of course his uncle stood to gain but how did he have the resources? How many families were allied to his cause?
“I'm with child, Stephanos. It can only be of Mikaelidas blood. I've been with no other."
“Not now!” The words exploded out of his mouth. He whirled around, angry beyond reason. “Just shut up! I can’t do this with you. Not now! Just-” he didn’t trust himself to speak. Instead he balled his hands into fists. Perfect. A guard poked his head in, mentioning that an audience with him was requested. He wanted to unleash his pent up fury but he didn’t dare around Olympia; if he let go of the chaos inside, he wasn’t sure he could stop with just verbal rage.
“No one,” he shouted. “No one comes in.” His icy glare was on Olympia as he spoke to the guard. After a moment, when he felt more master of himself, he bent so that he was level with her face. “You’re not the first who has tried this,” he said, his voice now deceptively calm. How she could be so cold and calculating as to try to trap him while Vasiliadon burned was amazing. Several golden haired, blue eyed bastards were born to women of note, all of whom were either already married, or very soon wed someone of his father’s choosing. Her fate would be the same.
Voices drew his attention and he straightened back up to find Prince Vangelis striding in, Commander Nike, and an unfamiliar Tangean soldier in his wake. In the Colchian prince’s hands was a bundle, its bottom soaked in red. All of the misdirected rage he’d flung at Pia melted away to be replaced by empty nothing. His eyes moved toward Commander Nike and the cloak in her hands. At last, he looked at the unknown soldier, holding his father’s crown.
Numbly he reached out for the bag. He felt like a rock sat in the pit of his stomach. No part of him wanted to grab the bag but he did it anyway, careful to take hold of the material only. It was heavier than he expected and he stood with it hanging awkwardly at his side, ignoring the feel of it against the side of his knee.
His eyes rested on the crown again and what Pia told him finally clicked into place. She was unmarried. Pregnant. With his son. The line of Mikaelidas was in extreme jeopardy as long as he was also unmarried and without an heir.
It felt like an eternity, but he finally dragged his eyes back to her, a little sheepishly but more shrewd than before. He was less reactive and a little more calculating. “I need a physician,” he said to one of the guards. “Now.” The man turned, giving the message to another guard and so on until it reached the proper channels.
If he’d had his choice, he would not marry a Leventi girl. However, she was the one pregnant and available. If he spurned her to find another woman more suitable, he was not assured that the next woman would be with child so easily. There was always the risk of a barren wife. Olympia had already proved that she was capable of becoming pregnant, at least.
Turning his back on the others, he moved back over to her, caught her hand, and tugged her to him, resting his lips against her ear so that his words were for her alone. “You’ve been with no one else?” he asked, waiting for her reply and then, “Be easy. Let’s see what happens in the next few hours.” Letting go of her hand, he rested his on her belly. He wished that Vangelis had not come but he didn’t want him to leave either. What he wanted was privacy he could not have with Pia.
“I shouldn’t have yelled,” he murmured to her, still very aware that his words might be overheard. It was uncomfortable but not unfamiliar. All his life had been on public display. Why not this apology too?
This he did not need. “Pia-” he turned away from her as her name slipped from between his lips in an irritated sigh. If she’d waited five months to speak, then by Zeus and Hades she could wait a few minutes. Or forever. Whatever she had to say could not possibly be of as much significance as any of the plans he was organizing in his head at that very moment.
She changed tack when he cut across her, answering his earlier comment about Achilleas.
"Achilleas wanted to see to my sister, nothing more…”
He waved her off. His cousin’s reasons didn’t matter. What did matter was that his cousin had done as ordered; something that should not and would not have been surprising in different circumstances. The irritated bewilderment that had momentarily crossed Achilleas’s face in the burning arena when asked for Irakles’s whereabouts had not gone unnoticed. Again his thoughts spun away from Pia, tearing off in a new, unpleasant direction; was his uncle actually behind this? If he was, he had a lot of support.
His eyes were on her but his gaze was inward. He did not trust Irakles. He did not like Irakles but neither of those things was enough to condemn a man without evidence. The new question became: did his uncle want the throne so badly that he would murder his own brother and two nephews to get it? Would he burn the circus and half the city to cover his trail?
“They may all be worried but I fear for what may happen if a physician is not found.”
The word physician caught his attention only momentarily. Blinking, he raked her once over with his gaze, found nothing amiss, and ceased to listen again, walking a few steps away this time. He was frustrated. If Irakles had a hand in this, it must have been very minor indeed. Of course his uncle stood to gain but how did he have the resources? How many families were allied to his cause?
“I'm with child, Stephanos. It can only be of Mikaelidas blood. I've been with no other."
“Not now!” The words exploded out of his mouth. He whirled around, angry beyond reason. “Just shut up! I can’t do this with you. Not now! Just-” he didn’t trust himself to speak. Instead he balled his hands into fists. Perfect. A guard poked his head in, mentioning that an audience with him was requested. He wanted to unleash his pent up fury but he didn’t dare around Olympia; if he let go of the chaos inside, he wasn’t sure he could stop with just verbal rage.
“No one,” he shouted. “No one comes in.” His icy glare was on Olympia as he spoke to the guard. After a moment, when he felt more master of himself, he bent so that he was level with her face. “You’re not the first who has tried this,” he said, his voice now deceptively calm. How she could be so cold and calculating as to try to trap him while Vasiliadon burned was amazing. Several golden haired, blue eyed bastards were born to women of note, all of whom were either already married, or very soon wed someone of his father’s choosing. Her fate would be the same.
Voices drew his attention and he straightened back up to find Prince Vangelis striding in, Commander Nike, and an unfamiliar Tangean soldier in his wake. In the Colchian prince’s hands was a bundle, its bottom soaked in red. All of the misdirected rage he’d flung at Pia melted away to be replaced by empty nothing. His eyes moved toward Commander Nike and the cloak in her hands. At last, he looked at the unknown soldier, holding his father’s crown.
Numbly he reached out for the bag. He felt like a rock sat in the pit of his stomach. No part of him wanted to grab the bag but he did it anyway, careful to take hold of the material only. It was heavier than he expected and he stood with it hanging awkwardly at his side, ignoring the feel of it against the side of his knee.
His eyes rested on the crown again and what Pia told him finally clicked into place. She was unmarried. Pregnant. With his son. The line of Mikaelidas was in extreme jeopardy as long as he was also unmarried and without an heir.
It felt like an eternity, but he finally dragged his eyes back to her, a little sheepishly but more shrewd than before. He was less reactive and a little more calculating. “I need a physician,” he said to one of the guards. “Now.” The man turned, giving the message to another guard and so on until it reached the proper channels.
If he’d had his choice, he would not marry a Leventi girl. However, she was the one pregnant and available. If he spurned her to find another woman more suitable, he was not assured that the next woman would be with child so easily. There was always the risk of a barren wife. Olympia had already proved that she was capable of becoming pregnant, at least.
Turning his back on the others, he moved back over to her, caught her hand, and tugged her to him, resting his lips against her ear so that his words were for her alone. “You’ve been with no one else?” he asked, waiting for her reply and then, “Be easy. Let’s see what happens in the next few hours.” Letting go of her hand, he rested his on her belly. He wished that Vangelis had not come but he didn’t want him to leave either. What he wanted was privacy he could not have with Pia.
“I shouldn’t have yelled,” he murmured to her, still very aware that his words might be overheard. It was uncomfortable but not unfamiliar. All his life had been on public display. Why not this apology too?
The cold rage that burst from Stephanos silenced her where she was, and she staggered a few steps back until she was near flush with the wall. Her hands fell to cover her stomach protectively, terrified that he would strike at her or try to force an end to it. She was already in pain, from what she had heard whispered between nurses and maids and other ladies a well placed hit from an angry husband or lover could easily end the life of her child, or herself.
Olympia tried to breathe steadily, but fear gripped her once again and she felt the blood drain from her face as he ordered no one else allowed in. Was this the moment he would kill her? He was the king now, and after what most of the kingdom had just seen it wouldn’t be a far stretch to assume she’d been more injured than first expected. Perhaps he would say she had succumbed. Her eyes darted restlessly around the room, trying to catch the gaze of anyone else who might take pity on her. At his accusation she all but bared her teeth at him, defensive and afraid to the point of behaving feral.
”If that is all you think of me then send me away. Do you think I waited eagerly hoping for this? For the shame it would bring on my family when my own sister is betrothed to your cousin...”
Her words trailed off as the three men strode in, violating Stephanos’ orders and dragging in bloody relics of the days horrors. If it hadn’t been for the wall behind her she might have fallen once more at the sight of the blood dripping from the sack and cloak. She knew what it was without looking too closely, and the thought of the older man’s kindly smile and bright eyes that reminded her so much of Stephanos’ being extinguished...
Pia’s eyes closed against the horrible sight, remaining shut even as the king called for a physician. He had wounds of his own to be looked over, no reason to hope or assume he’d changed his mind. Her gaze snapped back open as he caught her hand, and she winced against him still expecting the worst. He smelled of blood and sweat and sand, all mingling with the smoke of the fires around the town and it was enough to make her feel sick once more. The question would make or break this moment, and if there had to be one lie, it would be this one.
”No one. Only ever you.”
Her hand followed to rest over his on her stomach, a strangely tender moment after everything that had happened. Shaking her head, Pia allowed her nose to brush softly against his cheek in a rare show of true affection. She did love him, in her own way.
”I should have told you before...I was only afraid I was wrong about timing, or that it wouldn’t last. But if you don’t want this I..I’ve heard of ways to end it.”
Please gods say no. Say no and that it would be beloved among children. That he wanted it, and her.
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The cold rage that burst from Stephanos silenced her where she was, and she staggered a few steps back until she was near flush with the wall. Her hands fell to cover her stomach protectively, terrified that he would strike at her or try to force an end to it. She was already in pain, from what she had heard whispered between nurses and maids and other ladies a well placed hit from an angry husband or lover could easily end the life of her child, or herself.
Olympia tried to breathe steadily, but fear gripped her once again and she felt the blood drain from her face as he ordered no one else allowed in. Was this the moment he would kill her? He was the king now, and after what most of the kingdom had just seen it wouldn’t be a far stretch to assume she’d been more injured than first expected. Perhaps he would say she had succumbed. Her eyes darted restlessly around the room, trying to catch the gaze of anyone else who might take pity on her. At his accusation she all but bared her teeth at him, defensive and afraid to the point of behaving feral.
”If that is all you think of me then send me away. Do you think I waited eagerly hoping for this? For the shame it would bring on my family when my own sister is betrothed to your cousin...”
Her words trailed off as the three men strode in, violating Stephanos’ orders and dragging in bloody relics of the days horrors. If it hadn’t been for the wall behind her she might have fallen once more at the sight of the blood dripping from the sack and cloak. She knew what it was without looking too closely, and the thought of the older man’s kindly smile and bright eyes that reminded her so much of Stephanos’ being extinguished...
Pia’s eyes closed against the horrible sight, remaining shut even as the king called for a physician. He had wounds of his own to be looked over, no reason to hope or assume he’d changed his mind. Her gaze snapped back open as he caught her hand, and she winced against him still expecting the worst. He smelled of blood and sweat and sand, all mingling with the smoke of the fires around the town and it was enough to make her feel sick once more. The question would make or break this moment, and if there had to be one lie, it would be this one.
”No one. Only ever you.”
Her hand followed to rest over his on her stomach, a strangely tender moment after everything that had happened. Shaking her head, Pia allowed her nose to brush softly against his cheek in a rare show of true affection. She did love him, in her own way.
”I should have told you before...I was only afraid I was wrong about timing, or that it wouldn’t last. But if you don’t want this I..I’ve heard of ways to end it.”
Please gods say no. Say no and that it would be beloved among children. That he wanted it, and her.
The cold rage that burst from Stephanos silenced her where she was, and she staggered a few steps back until she was near flush with the wall. Her hands fell to cover her stomach protectively, terrified that he would strike at her or try to force an end to it. She was already in pain, from what she had heard whispered between nurses and maids and other ladies a well placed hit from an angry husband or lover could easily end the life of her child, or herself.
Olympia tried to breathe steadily, but fear gripped her once again and she felt the blood drain from her face as he ordered no one else allowed in. Was this the moment he would kill her? He was the king now, and after what most of the kingdom had just seen it wouldn’t be a far stretch to assume she’d been more injured than first expected. Perhaps he would say she had succumbed. Her eyes darted restlessly around the room, trying to catch the gaze of anyone else who might take pity on her. At his accusation she all but bared her teeth at him, defensive and afraid to the point of behaving feral.
”If that is all you think of me then send me away. Do you think I waited eagerly hoping for this? For the shame it would bring on my family when my own sister is betrothed to your cousin...”
Her words trailed off as the three men strode in, violating Stephanos’ orders and dragging in bloody relics of the days horrors. If it hadn’t been for the wall behind her she might have fallen once more at the sight of the blood dripping from the sack and cloak. She knew what it was without looking too closely, and the thought of the older man’s kindly smile and bright eyes that reminded her so much of Stephanos’ being extinguished...
Pia’s eyes closed against the horrible sight, remaining shut even as the king called for a physician. He had wounds of his own to be looked over, no reason to hope or assume he’d changed his mind. Her gaze snapped back open as he caught her hand, and she winced against him still expecting the worst. He smelled of blood and sweat and sand, all mingling with the smoke of the fires around the town and it was enough to make her feel sick once more. The question would make or break this moment, and if there had to be one lie, it would be this one.
”No one. Only ever you.”
Her hand followed to rest over his on her stomach, a strangely tender moment after everything that had happened. Shaking her head, Pia allowed her nose to brush softly against his cheek in a rare show of true affection. She did love him, in her own way.
”I should have told you before...I was only afraid I was wrong about timing, or that it wouldn’t last. But if you don’t want this I..I’ve heard of ways to end it.”
Please gods say no. Say no and that it would be beloved among children. That he wanted it, and her.
How clever to wait as long as she had. If he’d been told earlier, she’d already be engaged to the first available lord his father could find. Her instinct to wait and bide her time, to spring this on him during his misfortune, would save her from that fate. Where she might feel some kind of affection for him, his feelings were more complicated. He did not love her and never had. Marriage to her would not bring either the prestige or wealth he’d always planned on having in a future bride. No part of him wished her harm but he’d only wanted to bed her, laugh with her, and eventually part as friends - only coming back together if either of them felt the inclination later.
Now? Now she would be his wife. He knew she would accept without having to ask. Whatever her personal feelings on the matter, she was no fool. No one turned down the king; especially when she was unmarried and carrying his child. Perhaps he was being arrogant, but this was how it was done.
Her hand slid over his. The way she nuzzled his cheek conveyed forgiveness for his earlier outburst. His temper was legendary but he realized this was the first time she’d seen it first hand. It would not be the last.
After a moment, he took his hand away and stepped back. He looked at Vangelis and motioned for him to follow as he turned to move to the far end of the room but at that moment, the physician entered. Immediately the man bowed and then headed toward Stephanos but a shake of the new king’s head stopped him in his tracks. “Lady Olympia,” Stephanos gestured in her direction.
The physician hesitated. With another deep bow he said, “Forgive me, your majesty but I believe my attention should be to you first.”
“Lady Olympia,” Stephanos said again, still motioning for Vangelis to follow him. His tone rejected further input from the physician and to Vangelis he said, “I would speak with you a moment.”
He waited until he and Vangelis stood in the furthest corner, away from everyone. The bag still hung in his grip. Not once had he been able to forget that he held it. The insane urge to put it on the floor was there but he resisted. There was no place to set his father’s head; no respectable place and so he was forced to just keep holding it, a macabre parcel he both wanted to keep near him and fling as far away as he was able.
“Would I be insane if I married her?” he asked in low tones, resisting looking over at Pia. If anyone could understand the gravity of his new situation, it was the crown prince of Colchis; a man he didn’t really like up until a few hours ago, now a man he couldn’t do without. Vangelis was in the same position as far as station with the ability to make a spectacular match or a colossal mistake. Keeping his voice steady and quiet, he explained the Leventi family, his hesitation in allying himself with that house, but his predicament of having a ready heir and the idiocy of spurning such a family. In short, he was trapped and wanted Vangelis to come up with a brilliant plan to save him from this mess.
“The city is burning,” he finished, glancing over his shoulder at Pia as the physician attended her. “I don’t need a rebellion on my hands too. Achilleas is marrying her sister, Theodora. That means my uncle has close ties with them too…” as he spoke, he realized Vangelis couldn’t help him. It wasn’t a question of should he marry Olympia. It was now a fact that he couldn’t afford not to do so.
He stared in helpless bitterness in her direction. His father and brother were ripped from him, a child he hadn’t known about until now was inside her, and he was trapped into a loveless, unequal marriage while his city burned and all of their lives were in extreme mortal peril. At last his gaze swung back to Vangelis. “Nevermind…” he said, exhaling a deep sigh containing all his fears and misery.
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How clever to wait as long as she had. If he’d been told earlier, she’d already be engaged to the first available lord his father could find. Her instinct to wait and bide her time, to spring this on him during his misfortune, would save her from that fate. Where she might feel some kind of affection for him, his feelings were more complicated. He did not love her and never had. Marriage to her would not bring either the prestige or wealth he’d always planned on having in a future bride. No part of him wished her harm but he’d only wanted to bed her, laugh with her, and eventually part as friends - only coming back together if either of them felt the inclination later.
Now? Now she would be his wife. He knew she would accept without having to ask. Whatever her personal feelings on the matter, she was no fool. No one turned down the king; especially when she was unmarried and carrying his child. Perhaps he was being arrogant, but this was how it was done.
Her hand slid over his. The way she nuzzled his cheek conveyed forgiveness for his earlier outburst. His temper was legendary but he realized this was the first time she’d seen it first hand. It would not be the last.
After a moment, he took his hand away and stepped back. He looked at Vangelis and motioned for him to follow as he turned to move to the far end of the room but at that moment, the physician entered. Immediately the man bowed and then headed toward Stephanos but a shake of the new king’s head stopped him in his tracks. “Lady Olympia,” Stephanos gestured in her direction.
The physician hesitated. With another deep bow he said, “Forgive me, your majesty but I believe my attention should be to you first.”
“Lady Olympia,” Stephanos said again, still motioning for Vangelis to follow him. His tone rejected further input from the physician and to Vangelis he said, “I would speak with you a moment.”
He waited until he and Vangelis stood in the furthest corner, away from everyone. The bag still hung in his grip. Not once had he been able to forget that he held it. The insane urge to put it on the floor was there but he resisted. There was no place to set his father’s head; no respectable place and so he was forced to just keep holding it, a macabre parcel he both wanted to keep near him and fling as far away as he was able.
“Would I be insane if I married her?” he asked in low tones, resisting looking over at Pia. If anyone could understand the gravity of his new situation, it was the crown prince of Colchis; a man he didn’t really like up until a few hours ago, now a man he couldn’t do without. Vangelis was in the same position as far as station with the ability to make a spectacular match or a colossal mistake. Keeping his voice steady and quiet, he explained the Leventi family, his hesitation in allying himself with that house, but his predicament of having a ready heir and the idiocy of spurning such a family. In short, he was trapped and wanted Vangelis to come up with a brilliant plan to save him from this mess.
“The city is burning,” he finished, glancing over his shoulder at Pia as the physician attended her. “I don’t need a rebellion on my hands too. Achilleas is marrying her sister, Theodora. That means my uncle has close ties with them too…” as he spoke, he realized Vangelis couldn’t help him. It wasn’t a question of should he marry Olympia. It was now a fact that he couldn’t afford not to do so.
He stared in helpless bitterness in her direction. His father and brother were ripped from him, a child he hadn’t known about until now was inside her, and he was trapped into a loveless, unequal marriage while his city burned and all of their lives were in extreme mortal peril. At last his gaze swung back to Vangelis. “Nevermind…” he said, exhaling a deep sigh containing all his fears and misery.
How clever to wait as long as she had. If he’d been told earlier, she’d already be engaged to the first available lord his father could find. Her instinct to wait and bide her time, to spring this on him during his misfortune, would save her from that fate. Where she might feel some kind of affection for him, his feelings were more complicated. He did not love her and never had. Marriage to her would not bring either the prestige or wealth he’d always planned on having in a future bride. No part of him wished her harm but he’d only wanted to bed her, laugh with her, and eventually part as friends - only coming back together if either of them felt the inclination later.
Now? Now she would be his wife. He knew she would accept without having to ask. Whatever her personal feelings on the matter, she was no fool. No one turned down the king; especially when she was unmarried and carrying his child. Perhaps he was being arrogant, but this was how it was done.
Her hand slid over his. The way she nuzzled his cheek conveyed forgiveness for his earlier outburst. His temper was legendary but he realized this was the first time she’d seen it first hand. It would not be the last.
After a moment, he took his hand away and stepped back. He looked at Vangelis and motioned for him to follow as he turned to move to the far end of the room but at that moment, the physician entered. Immediately the man bowed and then headed toward Stephanos but a shake of the new king’s head stopped him in his tracks. “Lady Olympia,” Stephanos gestured in her direction.
The physician hesitated. With another deep bow he said, “Forgive me, your majesty but I believe my attention should be to you first.”
“Lady Olympia,” Stephanos said again, still motioning for Vangelis to follow him. His tone rejected further input from the physician and to Vangelis he said, “I would speak with you a moment.”
He waited until he and Vangelis stood in the furthest corner, away from everyone. The bag still hung in his grip. Not once had he been able to forget that he held it. The insane urge to put it on the floor was there but he resisted. There was no place to set his father’s head; no respectable place and so he was forced to just keep holding it, a macabre parcel he both wanted to keep near him and fling as far away as he was able.
“Would I be insane if I married her?” he asked in low tones, resisting looking over at Pia. If anyone could understand the gravity of his new situation, it was the crown prince of Colchis; a man he didn’t really like up until a few hours ago, now a man he couldn’t do without. Vangelis was in the same position as far as station with the ability to make a spectacular match or a colossal mistake. Keeping his voice steady and quiet, he explained the Leventi family, his hesitation in allying himself with that house, but his predicament of having a ready heir and the idiocy of spurning such a family. In short, he was trapped and wanted Vangelis to come up with a brilliant plan to save him from this mess.
“The city is burning,” he finished, glancing over his shoulder at Pia as the physician attended her. “I don’t need a rebellion on my hands too. Achilleas is marrying her sister, Theodora. That means my uncle has close ties with them too…” as he spoke, he realized Vangelis couldn’t help him. It wasn’t a question of should he marry Olympia. It was now a fact that he couldn’t afford not to do so.
He stared in helpless bitterness in her direction. His father and brother were ripped from him, a child he hadn’t known about until now was inside her, and he was trapped into a loveless, unequal marriage while his city burned and all of their lives were in extreme mortal peril. At last his gaze swung back to Vangelis. “Nevermind…” he said, exhaling a deep sigh containing all his fears and misery.
As the prince, turned king, of Taengea reached forward to take the custom bag Vangelis had made out of the soldier's cloak, he allowed it to be taken delicately from his grip only once he was certain that Stephanos's hands were not shaking. The man dropping the back through shocked and grief stricken fingers would not to his emotional balance any good.
When he did release the head into its son's grip, he watched as Stephanos handled himself around the Lady Olympia. The conversations were murmured and the expressions between them private so Vangelis diverted his gaze respectfully. He was, however, unable to hear some of the harsher words and the earnest behests. Nor did his keen peripheral vision fail to pick up on the hands pressed against Olympia's belly...
Oh Gods... He couldn't help but think as the crown princes realised the magnitude of the moment of the Lord Stephanos. Today was surely shaping up to be his worst - in ever possible element of his life.
Vangelis tried not to attribute these moments to his own hope for the future - a wife, a child.... these things were supposed to be things of joy in a man's life - not a bittersweet tragedy after the death of half one's family...
Staying quiet until the new king summoned him forward, Vangelis followed the man to the back of the room where their conversation would be private from all other ears, while the physician tended to the Lady Olympia.
Vangelis was pleased in the kinship Stephanos clearly seemed to feel in order to ask his advice and yet surprised that he felt no shock in it. Perhaps little more than three hours ago, he and Stephanos had been agitated acquaintances at best... now? Now, the events of the last few turns of the sundial had left scars on both of their psyches - one more than the other. But such experiences bonded men, made them brothers in arms. In the same way it did on the battlefield, so too could it happen when the battle was brought into the home. Vangelis felt no oddity or awkwardness at his sudden bonding with the new king of Taengea and, instead, listened earnestly to his explanations.
"I think..." Vangelis murmured to Stephanos beneath his breath so that their conversation remained private. "That you already know the answer to your question Stephanos." He told him quietly. For he could see it in the man's eyes that the financial, social and reputation advances in his marriage to Olympia would be suitable enough to keep the hounds of the court at bay. Or at least... bring them into his own family so they were easier to keep an eye on. And the heir that Olympia now apparently carried would cement the family line that had been so violently damaged within the last few hours.
With the greatest empathy, Vangelis raised a hand and secured it on Stephanos' shoulder. He gripped it tight in solidarity and met the man's gaze head on as he answered in all truth.
"There are worse things on Olympus and Earth than marrying a woman you do not love." He told him.
Allowing a moment for his thoughts to settle and the moment to pass, Vangelis then looked up and towards the door.
"Now... you have a man over there. I know not his name. But he risked his life to help me return you father to you." He told Stephanos. "Entrust him to take this..." His finger tips nudged at the man's arm where he carried the bag in question. "... to your family crypt, and tell him to leave the crown down there with him. Secure it beyond measure..." The Colchian royal crypt had a double vaulted door with only a single key that his father wore on a chain around his neck... he had no idea how the Taengean's protected their lost blood. "Then send Lady Olympia to her room for to rest..."
He squeezed Stephano's good shoulder again, his gaze lingering on the other.
"What matters now is that you get your wounds seen to and you formulate a plan to save your city... everything else can wait."
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As the prince, turned king, of Taengea reached forward to take the custom bag Vangelis had made out of the soldier's cloak, he allowed it to be taken delicately from his grip only once he was certain that Stephanos's hands were not shaking. The man dropping the back through shocked and grief stricken fingers would not to his emotional balance any good.
When he did release the head into its son's grip, he watched as Stephanos handled himself around the Lady Olympia. The conversations were murmured and the expressions between them private so Vangelis diverted his gaze respectfully. He was, however, unable to hear some of the harsher words and the earnest behests. Nor did his keen peripheral vision fail to pick up on the hands pressed against Olympia's belly...
Oh Gods... He couldn't help but think as the crown princes realised the magnitude of the moment of the Lord Stephanos. Today was surely shaping up to be his worst - in ever possible element of his life.
Vangelis tried not to attribute these moments to his own hope for the future - a wife, a child.... these things were supposed to be things of joy in a man's life - not a bittersweet tragedy after the death of half one's family...
Staying quiet until the new king summoned him forward, Vangelis followed the man to the back of the room where their conversation would be private from all other ears, while the physician tended to the Lady Olympia.
Vangelis was pleased in the kinship Stephanos clearly seemed to feel in order to ask his advice and yet surprised that he felt no shock in it. Perhaps little more than three hours ago, he and Stephanos had been agitated acquaintances at best... now? Now, the events of the last few turns of the sundial had left scars on both of their psyches - one more than the other. But such experiences bonded men, made them brothers in arms. In the same way it did on the battlefield, so too could it happen when the battle was brought into the home. Vangelis felt no oddity or awkwardness at his sudden bonding with the new king of Taengea and, instead, listened earnestly to his explanations.
"I think..." Vangelis murmured to Stephanos beneath his breath so that their conversation remained private. "That you already know the answer to your question Stephanos." He told him quietly. For he could see it in the man's eyes that the financial, social and reputation advances in his marriage to Olympia would be suitable enough to keep the hounds of the court at bay. Or at least... bring them into his own family so they were easier to keep an eye on. And the heir that Olympia now apparently carried would cement the family line that had been so violently damaged within the last few hours.
With the greatest empathy, Vangelis raised a hand and secured it on Stephanos' shoulder. He gripped it tight in solidarity and met the man's gaze head on as he answered in all truth.
"There are worse things on Olympus and Earth than marrying a woman you do not love." He told him.
Allowing a moment for his thoughts to settle and the moment to pass, Vangelis then looked up and towards the door.
"Now... you have a man over there. I know not his name. But he risked his life to help me return you father to you." He told Stephanos. "Entrust him to take this..." His finger tips nudged at the man's arm where he carried the bag in question. "... to your family crypt, and tell him to leave the crown down there with him. Secure it beyond measure..." The Colchian royal crypt had a double vaulted door with only a single key that his father wore on a chain around his neck... he had no idea how the Taengean's protected their lost blood. "Then send Lady Olympia to her room for to rest..."
He squeezed Stephano's good shoulder again, his gaze lingering on the other.
"What matters now is that you get your wounds seen to and you formulate a plan to save your city... everything else can wait."
As the prince, turned king, of Taengea reached forward to take the custom bag Vangelis had made out of the soldier's cloak, he allowed it to be taken delicately from his grip only once he was certain that Stephanos's hands were not shaking. The man dropping the back through shocked and grief stricken fingers would not to his emotional balance any good.
When he did release the head into its son's grip, he watched as Stephanos handled himself around the Lady Olympia. The conversations were murmured and the expressions between them private so Vangelis diverted his gaze respectfully. He was, however, unable to hear some of the harsher words and the earnest behests. Nor did his keen peripheral vision fail to pick up on the hands pressed against Olympia's belly...
Oh Gods... He couldn't help but think as the crown princes realised the magnitude of the moment of the Lord Stephanos. Today was surely shaping up to be his worst - in ever possible element of his life.
Vangelis tried not to attribute these moments to his own hope for the future - a wife, a child.... these things were supposed to be things of joy in a man's life - not a bittersweet tragedy after the death of half one's family...
Staying quiet until the new king summoned him forward, Vangelis followed the man to the back of the room where their conversation would be private from all other ears, while the physician tended to the Lady Olympia.
Vangelis was pleased in the kinship Stephanos clearly seemed to feel in order to ask his advice and yet surprised that he felt no shock in it. Perhaps little more than three hours ago, he and Stephanos had been agitated acquaintances at best... now? Now, the events of the last few turns of the sundial had left scars on both of their psyches - one more than the other. But such experiences bonded men, made them brothers in arms. In the same way it did on the battlefield, so too could it happen when the battle was brought into the home. Vangelis felt no oddity or awkwardness at his sudden bonding with the new king of Taengea and, instead, listened earnestly to his explanations.
"I think..." Vangelis murmured to Stephanos beneath his breath so that their conversation remained private. "That you already know the answer to your question Stephanos." He told him quietly. For he could see it in the man's eyes that the financial, social and reputation advances in his marriage to Olympia would be suitable enough to keep the hounds of the court at bay. Or at least... bring them into his own family so they were easier to keep an eye on. And the heir that Olympia now apparently carried would cement the family line that had been so violently damaged within the last few hours.
With the greatest empathy, Vangelis raised a hand and secured it on Stephanos' shoulder. He gripped it tight in solidarity and met the man's gaze head on as he answered in all truth.
"There are worse things on Olympus and Earth than marrying a woman you do not love." He told him.
Allowing a moment for his thoughts to settle and the moment to pass, Vangelis then looked up and towards the door.
"Now... you have a man over there. I know not his name. But he risked his life to help me return you father to you." He told Stephanos. "Entrust him to take this..." His finger tips nudged at the man's arm where he carried the bag in question. "... to your family crypt, and tell him to leave the crown down there with him. Secure it beyond measure..." The Colchian royal crypt had a double vaulted door with only a single key that his father wore on a chain around his neck... he had no idea how the Taengean's protected their lost blood. "Then send Lady Olympia to her room for to rest..."
He squeezed Stephano's good shoulder again, his gaze lingering on the other.
"What matters now is that you get your wounds seen to and you formulate a plan to save your city... everything else can wait."
Stephanos swallowed hard as Vangelis affirmed his decision. The man’s heavy hand was meant to be a comfort but it was a weight instead. Behind them, he heard the doctor asking Pia questions. Her voice was indistinct as she answered but he could pick out a few words; among them being ‘afraid’ or ‘baby’ or ‘lost’. His stomach wrenched at the thought that she might lose the child because of all this.
His mind was too full. Too many things vyed for his attention. Olympia herself, the baby, the screams still drifting over the walls. The fact that that Commander Nike and their soldier friend were standing there watching him made him uncomfortable. There were too many witnesses. He couldn’t release any tension. It stored itself in his neck and shoulders, making them tight and ache.
The blood on his arms was sticky and drying in places. He wanted a bath.
Vangelis’s voice drew him back and he looked up. “What?” distraction laced his voice until the prince’s words sank in. “The crypt?” He blinked, looking back until he saw the soldier with the crown still around his forearm. He had never seen the Colchian crypt where the treasures of the crown were kept but the Tangeans followed a similar fashion. Instead of being buried deep in a mountain side, theirs was a vault, dug like a tomb in the ground under the palace. Likely there were guards still there, guarding it with no clue that just outside of their hearing, the kingdom was breaking loose.
“Yes,” he said suddenly, snapping his fingers in the soldier’s direction. “You.” His tone should have been more pleasant but he couldn’t bring himself to be charming. At the moment, he didn’t care if anyone in this room liked him or not. He waited until the soldier came closer before speaking further, repeating almost verbatim the instructions that Vangelis had just suggested. However, instead of just handing over the bag, Stephanos reached out and took the soldier’s wrist.
He looked down at the man’s hand, not really seeing it. His attention was on the fabric bunched in his fist and the weight of his father’s head. “What is your name?” he asked and after receiving it, he said, “Alypius. Find me when you’ve…” his voice went hoarse. “When this is…” It was more difficult than it should have been to actually hand over the bag. He waited until Alypius’s fingers had curled securely around the fabric before unhooking his own, one by one until his arm dropped limply to his side.
Stephanos licked his lips but his tongue was dry. He wanted wine.
At Vangelis’s suggestion that Olympia be sent away, Stephanos paused. The paranoia that had faded a little since the others had entered surfaced again. What if he sent her to her rooms only to find that she and his only potentially legitimate heir were killed too? He shook his head. He was acting like he’d never seen death; never dolled it out but he had. If his line was to remain, it was up to the gods to protect her. Unless of course, all this was a curse from them. If that was the case, he couldn’t see how keeping her with him or away from him would make the slightest difference.
“Lady Olympia,” he turned to her, suddenly formal. “If the physician is inclined, I think it’s time you go to your rooms. Guards will accompany you.” Perhaps he was playing his hand a little too heavily. If he acted like she was important, perhaps she would become a target; but he’d done her a disservice already by bringing her here. Now that he’d done it, he couldn’t risk leaving her exposed.
Vangelis squeezed his shoulder again. At that, Stephanos reached up and patted his arm, partly to acknowledge the gesture and partly to let him know he was fine now. As long as he kept busy, kept active, he’d be fine. It was this awful pause that had made him lose focus. “You’re right,” he said, straightening. With a motion of his hand, he brought the physician over.
The examination seemed to take longer than it actually did. Most of his wounds were surface and just needed cleaning. For the deeper ones, they were not life threatening. Stephanos shook the man off when he started to try to clean the blood from his face. “Leave it,” he said. “More will be there by nightfall.” Turning to Vangelis, he gripped his sword.
“I’m ready to fight if you are,” he said.
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Stephanos swallowed hard as Vangelis affirmed his decision. The man’s heavy hand was meant to be a comfort but it was a weight instead. Behind them, he heard the doctor asking Pia questions. Her voice was indistinct as she answered but he could pick out a few words; among them being ‘afraid’ or ‘baby’ or ‘lost’. His stomach wrenched at the thought that she might lose the child because of all this.
His mind was too full. Too many things vyed for his attention. Olympia herself, the baby, the screams still drifting over the walls. The fact that that Commander Nike and their soldier friend were standing there watching him made him uncomfortable. There were too many witnesses. He couldn’t release any tension. It stored itself in his neck and shoulders, making them tight and ache.
The blood on his arms was sticky and drying in places. He wanted a bath.
Vangelis’s voice drew him back and he looked up. “What?” distraction laced his voice until the prince’s words sank in. “The crypt?” He blinked, looking back until he saw the soldier with the crown still around his forearm. He had never seen the Colchian crypt where the treasures of the crown were kept but the Tangeans followed a similar fashion. Instead of being buried deep in a mountain side, theirs was a vault, dug like a tomb in the ground under the palace. Likely there were guards still there, guarding it with no clue that just outside of their hearing, the kingdom was breaking loose.
“Yes,” he said suddenly, snapping his fingers in the soldier’s direction. “You.” His tone should have been more pleasant but he couldn’t bring himself to be charming. At the moment, he didn’t care if anyone in this room liked him or not. He waited until the soldier came closer before speaking further, repeating almost verbatim the instructions that Vangelis had just suggested. However, instead of just handing over the bag, Stephanos reached out and took the soldier’s wrist.
He looked down at the man’s hand, not really seeing it. His attention was on the fabric bunched in his fist and the weight of his father’s head. “What is your name?” he asked and after receiving it, he said, “Alypius. Find me when you’ve…” his voice went hoarse. “When this is…” It was more difficult than it should have been to actually hand over the bag. He waited until Alypius’s fingers had curled securely around the fabric before unhooking his own, one by one until his arm dropped limply to his side.
Stephanos licked his lips but his tongue was dry. He wanted wine.
At Vangelis’s suggestion that Olympia be sent away, Stephanos paused. The paranoia that had faded a little since the others had entered surfaced again. What if he sent her to her rooms only to find that she and his only potentially legitimate heir were killed too? He shook his head. He was acting like he’d never seen death; never dolled it out but he had. If his line was to remain, it was up to the gods to protect her. Unless of course, all this was a curse from them. If that was the case, he couldn’t see how keeping her with him or away from him would make the slightest difference.
“Lady Olympia,” he turned to her, suddenly formal. “If the physician is inclined, I think it’s time you go to your rooms. Guards will accompany you.” Perhaps he was playing his hand a little too heavily. If he acted like she was important, perhaps she would become a target; but he’d done her a disservice already by bringing her here. Now that he’d done it, he couldn’t risk leaving her exposed.
Vangelis squeezed his shoulder again. At that, Stephanos reached up and patted his arm, partly to acknowledge the gesture and partly to let him know he was fine now. As long as he kept busy, kept active, he’d be fine. It was this awful pause that had made him lose focus. “You’re right,” he said, straightening. With a motion of his hand, he brought the physician over.
The examination seemed to take longer than it actually did. Most of his wounds were surface and just needed cleaning. For the deeper ones, they were not life threatening. Stephanos shook the man off when he started to try to clean the blood from his face. “Leave it,” he said. “More will be there by nightfall.” Turning to Vangelis, he gripped his sword.
“I’m ready to fight if you are,” he said.
Stephanos swallowed hard as Vangelis affirmed his decision. The man’s heavy hand was meant to be a comfort but it was a weight instead. Behind them, he heard the doctor asking Pia questions. Her voice was indistinct as she answered but he could pick out a few words; among them being ‘afraid’ or ‘baby’ or ‘lost’. His stomach wrenched at the thought that she might lose the child because of all this.
His mind was too full. Too many things vyed for his attention. Olympia herself, the baby, the screams still drifting over the walls. The fact that that Commander Nike and their soldier friend were standing there watching him made him uncomfortable. There were too many witnesses. He couldn’t release any tension. It stored itself in his neck and shoulders, making them tight and ache.
The blood on his arms was sticky and drying in places. He wanted a bath.
Vangelis’s voice drew him back and he looked up. “What?” distraction laced his voice until the prince’s words sank in. “The crypt?” He blinked, looking back until he saw the soldier with the crown still around his forearm. He had never seen the Colchian crypt where the treasures of the crown were kept but the Tangeans followed a similar fashion. Instead of being buried deep in a mountain side, theirs was a vault, dug like a tomb in the ground under the palace. Likely there were guards still there, guarding it with no clue that just outside of their hearing, the kingdom was breaking loose.
“Yes,” he said suddenly, snapping his fingers in the soldier’s direction. “You.” His tone should have been more pleasant but he couldn’t bring himself to be charming. At the moment, he didn’t care if anyone in this room liked him or not. He waited until the soldier came closer before speaking further, repeating almost verbatim the instructions that Vangelis had just suggested. However, instead of just handing over the bag, Stephanos reached out and took the soldier’s wrist.
He looked down at the man’s hand, not really seeing it. His attention was on the fabric bunched in his fist and the weight of his father’s head. “What is your name?” he asked and after receiving it, he said, “Alypius. Find me when you’ve…” his voice went hoarse. “When this is…” It was more difficult than it should have been to actually hand over the bag. He waited until Alypius’s fingers had curled securely around the fabric before unhooking his own, one by one until his arm dropped limply to his side.
Stephanos licked his lips but his tongue was dry. He wanted wine.
At Vangelis’s suggestion that Olympia be sent away, Stephanos paused. The paranoia that had faded a little since the others had entered surfaced again. What if he sent her to her rooms only to find that she and his only potentially legitimate heir were killed too? He shook his head. He was acting like he’d never seen death; never dolled it out but he had. If his line was to remain, it was up to the gods to protect her. Unless of course, all this was a curse from them. If that was the case, he couldn’t see how keeping her with him or away from him would make the slightest difference.
“Lady Olympia,” he turned to her, suddenly formal. “If the physician is inclined, I think it’s time you go to your rooms. Guards will accompany you.” Perhaps he was playing his hand a little too heavily. If he acted like she was important, perhaps she would become a target; but he’d done her a disservice already by bringing her here. Now that he’d done it, he couldn’t risk leaving her exposed.
Vangelis squeezed his shoulder again. At that, Stephanos reached up and patted his arm, partly to acknowledge the gesture and partly to let him know he was fine now. As long as he kept busy, kept active, he’d be fine. It was this awful pause that had made him lose focus. “You’re right,” he said, straightening. With a motion of his hand, he brought the physician over.
The examination seemed to take longer than it actually did. Most of his wounds were surface and just needed cleaning. For the deeper ones, they were not life threatening. Stephanos shook the man off when he started to try to clean the blood from his face. “Leave it,” he said. “More will be there by nightfall.” Turning to Vangelis, he gripped his sword.
“I’m ready to fight if you are,” he said.
Vangelis watched as Stephanos gradually got himself under control. He only stepped in once when Stephanos found himself at a loss for words with the soldier he had named Alypius. As Stephanos clearly wanted to instruct the man to return after the head had been delivered to the crypt, Vangelis simply spoke into his hesitation...
"Return after you have carried out your task." He simply instructed, as Stephanos was able to let go of the cape.
As Stephanos moved to speak with Lady Olympia and decide arrangements for the woman's safety, Vangelis spoke one final piece of advice to the soldier before he left with the head.
"Find yourself a new cape on the way back here." He told the man. "I have a feeling the king will need his men looking like a force to be reckoned with - not battle weary."
The physician was called over, and Stephanos was sat on the end of a chaise while the man poked, prodded, salved and bandaged at his arm and shoulder. At Vangelis suggestion, a new shirt was quickly found for the man so that the people didn't think their king was broken before he had even worn his crown.
As the Stephanos' arm was checked a final time for flexibility within its bandaging, Vangelis moved to stand beside Nike and murmured to her so only she could hear.
"If the new king wishes to fight, I will stand beside him." He told his Commander, keeping his eyes on the Lord as he stood and redressed. "You are loyal to Colchis and not Taengea. I fight for personal reasons. I do not hold you to do the same."
He had never given the woman and out from her duties before, but then his military campaigns and battles had always been in the name of Colchis - the kingdom she had sworn to protect. This was different. Her military vows did not hold her to this...
After she responded, Stephanos confirmed Vangelis' suspicions by standing and gripping the hilt of his sword.
"I'm ready for a fight if you are..." were his words.
Vangelis took the moment to break his facial features into a small smile.
"Well I was..." He stated with confidence. "Until some new, green king decided to steal one of my swords." He knew that the guards had one of his blades outside but he had no idea where the other one was. "And yes, that was a humorous comment that some might consider to be a joke, Stephanos. I figure if it is the Gods will today then you should at least die happy."
His face turning serious again he slapped the man in the back of the shoulder.
"Just breathe, Your Majesty." He told the man. "Take a deep breath in and then exhale your wrath upon them."
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Vangelis watched as Stephanos gradually got himself under control. He only stepped in once when Stephanos found himself at a loss for words with the soldier he had named Alypius. As Stephanos clearly wanted to instruct the man to return after the head had been delivered to the crypt, Vangelis simply spoke into his hesitation...
"Return after you have carried out your task." He simply instructed, as Stephanos was able to let go of the cape.
As Stephanos moved to speak with Lady Olympia and decide arrangements for the woman's safety, Vangelis spoke one final piece of advice to the soldier before he left with the head.
"Find yourself a new cape on the way back here." He told the man. "I have a feeling the king will need his men looking like a force to be reckoned with - not battle weary."
The physician was called over, and Stephanos was sat on the end of a chaise while the man poked, prodded, salved and bandaged at his arm and shoulder. At Vangelis suggestion, a new shirt was quickly found for the man so that the people didn't think their king was broken before he had even worn his crown.
As the Stephanos' arm was checked a final time for flexibility within its bandaging, Vangelis moved to stand beside Nike and murmured to her so only she could hear.
"If the new king wishes to fight, I will stand beside him." He told his Commander, keeping his eyes on the Lord as he stood and redressed. "You are loyal to Colchis and not Taengea. I fight for personal reasons. I do not hold you to do the same."
He had never given the woman and out from her duties before, but then his military campaigns and battles had always been in the name of Colchis - the kingdom she had sworn to protect. This was different. Her military vows did not hold her to this...
After she responded, Stephanos confirmed Vangelis' suspicions by standing and gripping the hilt of his sword.
"I'm ready for a fight if you are..." were his words.
Vangelis took the moment to break his facial features into a small smile.
"Well I was..." He stated with confidence. "Until some new, green king decided to steal one of my swords." He knew that the guards had one of his blades outside but he had no idea where the other one was. "And yes, that was a humorous comment that some might consider to be a joke, Stephanos. I figure if it is the Gods will today then you should at least die happy."
His face turning serious again he slapped the man in the back of the shoulder.
"Just breathe, Your Majesty." He told the man. "Take a deep breath in and then exhale your wrath upon them."
Vangelis watched as Stephanos gradually got himself under control. He only stepped in once when Stephanos found himself at a loss for words with the soldier he had named Alypius. As Stephanos clearly wanted to instruct the man to return after the head had been delivered to the crypt, Vangelis simply spoke into his hesitation...
"Return after you have carried out your task." He simply instructed, as Stephanos was able to let go of the cape.
As Stephanos moved to speak with Lady Olympia and decide arrangements for the woman's safety, Vangelis spoke one final piece of advice to the soldier before he left with the head.
"Find yourself a new cape on the way back here." He told the man. "I have a feeling the king will need his men looking like a force to be reckoned with - not battle weary."
The physician was called over, and Stephanos was sat on the end of a chaise while the man poked, prodded, salved and bandaged at his arm and shoulder. At Vangelis suggestion, a new shirt was quickly found for the man so that the people didn't think their king was broken before he had even worn his crown.
As the Stephanos' arm was checked a final time for flexibility within its bandaging, Vangelis moved to stand beside Nike and murmured to her so only she could hear.
"If the new king wishes to fight, I will stand beside him." He told his Commander, keeping his eyes on the Lord as he stood and redressed. "You are loyal to Colchis and not Taengea. I fight for personal reasons. I do not hold you to do the same."
He had never given the woman and out from her duties before, but then his military campaigns and battles had always been in the name of Colchis - the kingdom she had sworn to protect. This was different. Her military vows did not hold her to this...
After she responded, Stephanos confirmed Vangelis' suspicions by standing and gripping the hilt of his sword.
"I'm ready for a fight if you are..." were his words.
Vangelis took the moment to break his facial features into a small smile.
"Well I was..." He stated with confidence. "Until some new, green king decided to steal one of my swords." He knew that the guards had one of his blades outside but he had no idea where the other one was. "And yes, that was a humorous comment that some might consider to be a joke, Stephanos. I figure if it is the Gods will today then you should at least die happy."
His face turning serious again he slapped the man in the back of the shoulder.
"Just breathe, Your Majesty." He told the man. "Take a deep breath in and then exhale your wrath upon them."
Watching the exchange between first the newly minted king and who she now supposed would be the future Queen, and then when her general stepped up to speak in hushed tones with King Stephanos, Nike found her heart going out to the previous-spare prince. The situation was one she wouldn't wish on her worst enemies, and she flinched as he reached out to take the fashioned bag from a cloak, his hands obviously shaking when it came to grasping what contained his father's severed head.
The entire time, Nike had remained in an at an alert position by the door, adrenaline still rushing albeit dying down by now. Her muscles were coiled and tense, and as the sounds of screams and pillage could faintly be heard outside, she itched to be out there.
Despite pledging fealty to protect the crown and kingdom of Colchis, a large part of why Nike did her job so well, was because of her sense of protection. She sought justice and she sought to fight for those who couldn't fend for themselves - just like how she couldn't fight for herself, once upon a time so long ago, until she learned how to. Not everyone had the luxury to, and for those that didn't, Nike wanted to fight for them.
Her eyes flickered to Vangelis when he shifted to stand next to her, ears perking to his words. It came as no surprise to the commander that he wished to fight. She would've honestly been more surprised if he chose to opt out from the fight - she knew her general too well. If she wanted to protect, what he felt was probably magnified ten times. There was no situation in where Vangelis had ever sat out of a fight that he felt he could protect, he could do right, he could serve justice. It was one of the reasons why Nike admired him so much.
But it was also one of the reasons why she rarely left his side, to watch out for his lack of self preservation in a fight.
"I fight to be the eyes in the back of your head, General." she murmured, her eyes remaining on the new king as he did, but her words directed for her general, her fingers gripping into tight fists behind her back. "I assure you, I'm not one to sit and watch the show as you get to have all the fun." Nike's words held a tinge of amusement, and at her last syllable, she briefly glanced over to him from the corner of her eyes, laughter almost indecipherable in her irises, before it was gone just as it quick as it appeared when King Stephanos spoke.
Should they allow her, and should the new king trust her, she will fight to the best of her ability. Nike was nothing if not a fighter through and through, for her life, her honor, her very own survival, she would do anything. Despite being Taengean born, her spirit was more a Colchian then anything, after having survived there for so long. So she would do as they did, if not for king, at least for the country, and for the people who needed them.
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Watching the exchange between first the newly minted king and who she now supposed would be the future Queen, and then when her general stepped up to speak in hushed tones with King Stephanos, Nike found her heart going out to the previous-spare prince. The situation was one she wouldn't wish on her worst enemies, and she flinched as he reached out to take the fashioned bag from a cloak, his hands obviously shaking when it came to grasping what contained his father's severed head.
The entire time, Nike had remained in an at an alert position by the door, adrenaline still rushing albeit dying down by now. Her muscles were coiled and tense, and as the sounds of screams and pillage could faintly be heard outside, she itched to be out there.
Despite pledging fealty to protect the crown and kingdom of Colchis, a large part of why Nike did her job so well, was because of her sense of protection. She sought justice and she sought to fight for those who couldn't fend for themselves - just like how she couldn't fight for herself, once upon a time so long ago, until she learned how to. Not everyone had the luxury to, and for those that didn't, Nike wanted to fight for them.
Her eyes flickered to Vangelis when he shifted to stand next to her, ears perking to his words. It came as no surprise to the commander that he wished to fight. She would've honestly been more surprised if he chose to opt out from the fight - she knew her general too well. If she wanted to protect, what he felt was probably magnified ten times. There was no situation in where Vangelis had ever sat out of a fight that he felt he could protect, he could do right, he could serve justice. It was one of the reasons why Nike admired him so much.
But it was also one of the reasons why she rarely left his side, to watch out for his lack of self preservation in a fight.
"I fight to be the eyes in the back of your head, General." she murmured, her eyes remaining on the new king as he did, but her words directed for her general, her fingers gripping into tight fists behind her back. "I assure you, I'm not one to sit and watch the show as you get to have all the fun." Nike's words held a tinge of amusement, and at her last syllable, she briefly glanced over to him from the corner of her eyes, laughter almost indecipherable in her irises, before it was gone just as it quick as it appeared when King Stephanos spoke.
Should they allow her, and should the new king trust her, she will fight to the best of her ability. Nike was nothing if not a fighter through and through, for her life, her honor, her very own survival, she would do anything. Despite being Taengean born, her spirit was more a Colchian then anything, after having survived there for so long. So she would do as they did, if not for king, at least for the country, and for the people who needed them.
Watching the exchange between first the newly minted king and who she now supposed would be the future Queen, and then when her general stepped up to speak in hushed tones with King Stephanos, Nike found her heart going out to the previous-spare prince. The situation was one she wouldn't wish on her worst enemies, and she flinched as he reached out to take the fashioned bag from a cloak, his hands obviously shaking when it came to grasping what contained his father's severed head.
The entire time, Nike had remained in an at an alert position by the door, adrenaline still rushing albeit dying down by now. Her muscles were coiled and tense, and as the sounds of screams and pillage could faintly be heard outside, she itched to be out there.
Despite pledging fealty to protect the crown and kingdom of Colchis, a large part of why Nike did her job so well, was because of her sense of protection. She sought justice and she sought to fight for those who couldn't fend for themselves - just like how she couldn't fight for herself, once upon a time so long ago, until she learned how to. Not everyone had the luxury to, and for those that didn't, Nike wanted to fight for them.
Her eyes flickered to Vangelis when he shifted to stand next to her, ears perking to his words. It came as no surprise to the commander that he wished to fight. She would've honestly been more surprised if he chose to opt out from the fight - she knew her general too well. If she wanted to protect, what he felt was probably magnified ten times. There was no situation in where Vangelis had ever sat out of a fight that he felt he could protect, he could do right, he could serve justice. It was one of the reasons why Nike admired him so much.
But it was also one of the reasons why she rarely left his side, to watch out for his lack of self preservation in a fight.
"I fight to be the eyes in the back of your head, General." she murmured, her eyes remaining on the new king as he did, but her words directed for her general, her fingers gripping into tight fists behind her back. "I assure you, I'm not one to sit and watch the show as you get to have all the fun." Nike's words held a tinge of amusement, and at her last syllable, she briefly glanced over to him from the corner of her eyes, laughter almost indecipherable in her irises, before it was gone just as it quick as it appeared when King Stephanos spoke.
Should they allow her, and should the new king trust her, she will fight to the best of her ability. Nike was nothing if not a fighter through and through, for her life, her honor, her very own survival, she would do anything. Despite being Taengean born, her spirit was more a Colchian then anything, after having survived there for so long. So she would do as they did, if not for king, at least for the country, and for the people who needed them.
The arrival of the physician brought her relief beyond what she had expected, and she wasted no time in explaining her condition without the maidenly blushes that might have otherwise occurred had this been done in a more peaceful time. Olympia tried not to watch the exchange between the men in the room, giving them this privacy was the one thing she could manage right now. She was more concerned with the child growing inside, the heir to a line that was quickly dying. Did she regret this? After everything that had happened, Pia was no longer sure if this was the road she wanted.
For a moment she allowed herself to close her eyes and think of how this could be different. If she had been married off to another lord instead, allowed to live out her life in relative peace, watching her sisters and their families grow, bringing the Leventi line across the land. She had always had ambitions that rivaled the most calculating climber, it had brought her to the bed of now two kings and she was paying the price. It wasn't the life of luxury yet that she had been hoping for, there was only fear and death at every turn she could see. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen.
The physician confirmed what she had known, and then allayed her fears. All would be well provided she rest, and take care during this time. Four months more if all calculations were correct, and there would be born an heir of the Mikaelidas line. She just had to live four months more without anyone else trying to murder her or her son. Pia looked up as Stephanos spoke, giving a nod and accepting the physician's assistance in standing once more. After this day, all she wanted was to go home to the embrace of her family, but if the king commanded that she stay, what choice did she have. Hesitating a moment as the men talked of war, she felt as if she should say something, do something, but she had been scolded before for showing Stephanos any affection. Instead, she followed the guards, headed to unfamiliar rooms to try to take whatever rest she could while trying not to think of the father of her child battling for his kingdom.
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The arrival of the physician brought her relief beyond what she had expected, and she wasted no time in explaining her condition without the maidenly blushes that might have otherwise occurred had this been done in a more peaceful time. Olympia tried not to watch the exchange between the men in the room, giving them this privacy was the one thing she could manage right now. She was more concerned with the child growing inside, the heir to a line that was quickly dying. Did she regret this? After everything that had happened, Pia was no longer sure if this was the road she wanted.
For a moment she allowed herself to close her eyes and think of how this could be different. If she had been married off to another lord instead, allowed to live out her life in relative peace, watching her sisters and their families grow, bringing the Leventi line across the land. She had always had ambitions that rivaled the most calculating climber, it had brought her to the bed of now two kings and she was paying the price. It wasn't the life of luxury yet that she had been hoping for, there was only fear and death at every turn she could see. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen.
The physician confirmed what she had known, and then allayed her fears. All would be well provided she rest, and take care during this time. Four months more if all calculations were correct, and there would be born an heir of the Mikaelidas line. She just had to live four months more without anyone else trying to murder her or her son. Pia looked up as Stephanos spoke, giving a nod and accepting the physician's assistance in standing once more. After this day, all she wanted was to go home to the embrace of her family, but if the king commanded that she stay, what choice did she have. Hesitating a moment as the men talked of war, she felt as if she should say something, do something, but she had been scolded before for showing Stephanos any affection. Instead, she followed the guards, headed to unfamiliar rooms to try to take whatever rest she could while trying not to think of the father of her child battling for his kingdom.
The arrival of the physician brought her relief beyond what she had expected, and she wasted no time in explaining her condition without the maidenly blushes that might have otherwise occurred had this been done in a more peaceful time. Olympia tried not to watch the exchange between the men in the room, giving them this privacy was the one thing she could manage right now. She was more concerned with the child growing inside, the heir to a line that was quickly dying. Did she regret this? After everything that had happened, Pia was no longer sure if this was the road she wanted.
For a moment she allowed herself to close her eyes and think of how this could be different. If she had been married off to another lord instead, allowed to live out her life in relative peace, watching her sisters and their families grow, bringing the Leventi line across the land. She had always had ambitions that rivaled the most calculating climber, it had brought her to the bed of now two kings and she was paying the price. It wasn't the life of luxury yet that she had been hoping for, there was only fear and death at every turn she could see. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen.
The physician confirmed what she had known, and then allayed her fears. All would be well provided she rest, and take care during this time. Four months more if all calculations were correct, and there would be born an heir of the Mikaelidas line. She just had to live four months more without anyone else trying to murder her or her son. Pia looked up as Stephanos spoke, giving a nod and accepting the physician's assistance in standing once more. After this day, all she wanted was to go home to the embrace of her family, but if the king commanded that she stay, what choice did she have. Hesitating a moment as the men talked of war, she felt as if she should say something, do something, but she had been scolded before for showing Stephanos any affection. Instead, she followed the guards, headed to unfamiliar rooms to try to take whatever rest she could while trying not to think of the father of her child battling for his kingdom.
Perhaps if the circumstances where less dire, Alypius wouldn't of been sick to his core. But perhaps it wasn't that. Perhaps it was because of the head he held in his hand, and the crown he placed around his arm. Maybe it was the stench of blood that lingered in his nostrils. But no, it couldn't of been any of that. Alypius had seen far too much bloodshed in his life. He had taken the heads of his enemies with one swift strike. He had been covered in the blood of his enemies too many times too count. This was something different. It was a matter of his wavering confidence. It was the fact he starred into the eyes of the Prince, or rather newly made king, and he didn't know what to say.
"Just take the head and pull yourself to the crypt" Alypius told himself in the back of his head. His eyes lingered on the Prince, yet he said no more than his name. It was not the time, nor the place. With his fingers gripping around the cloth tightly, he gave nothing more than a nod towards his new king. His body moved without thinking, as he marched towards the door in silence. Yet as if some indescribable force pulled him back, he froze into place hearing the voice of Vangelis. The Taengean threw a glance back, with somewhat of a grin. "We Taengeans are not easy to kill." He announced with a newly sourced form of confidence, yet an air of uncertainty and falsehood scarred his voice. Perhaps his brave face was nothing more than an act.
Yet with a mission in mind, and orders given Alypius marched his way out the room. Crossing through the doors, the shouts and screams from beyond the palaces walls where all made clear once more. Gritting his teeth, fighting the urge to run back into the fray of battle, Alypius placed one foot in front of the other marching on past the guards that stood beyond the door. Marching past those who ran out the palace to protect ho they could, marching past the chaos, marching past the screams, marching past it all.
If it was not for his basic knowledge of the palace, Alypius would of been the worst person to entrust this task too, yet he was able to find his way with relative ease. He found the stairway down. Further down than he first imagined. The crypt had to of been dug deep, deep underneath the Palace. It shouldn't of been a surprise, yet he couldn't help but let his mind race as the screams, and sounds of chaos soon drifted into nothing. Did the men down here guarding truly know what was happening on the surface? Or were they just as unaware as the citizens in Athenia or Colchis?
As his feet in flat ground once more, the soldier broke off into a sprint. His armour clanging and echoing across the walls. There where a few guards in sight, their heads lifting up to see the blood soaked Taegean holding the crown of the fallen king, and a makeshift bag of his own cape, the bottom soaked and dripping with blood. Alypius was sure to make himself seem none threatening as he approached, as he raised his hands, announcing his name with a stern force not heard before by the warrior. He was swift to explain himself and the crisis happening on the surface, and with little effort his way allowed entrance into the crypt.
If he had entered the Crypt but two hours earlier his view of it would of been different. The treasure might have caused his eyes to linger and his fingers to fidget. Yet not today, not with the head in his hand. His eyes glazed across all the gold, all the jewels, finding no interest within it. Instead his eyes saw out a spot. Easily visible, flat and raised off the ground. Finding that to be a large table near the back of the crypt, Alypius placed the head down, with the crown next to it. Taking a step back, he let the silence consume him, as nothing but his beating heart became clear. It beat fast and loud. If it served but one purpose it told him he was alive, and that he was grateful for.
Upon leaving the crypt his eyes looked towards the guards. Their faces now twisted with anticipation and fear, now knowing what was going on at the surface. "Why you look scared friends... Chin up, stand tall, the fight is not over yet and I along with the new king leave the hardest task up to you. So make us proud men." Alypius grinned, as he stepped away from the men towards the stairs. His voice sounded clear and powerful. Just as it should of, just as it would have to if he wished to survive.
To everyone back in that room, Alypius was gone for nothing more than fifteen minutes. Pushing through those doors, he returned as instructed. He was dressed within the armour he had fought his way to the palace in, that was made clear enough by dried stains of blood, his helm held under his arm. Yet over his shoulder, he brandished a new cape, baring the symbol of Taengea.
"The head and crown are secure my Majesty." The lieutenant announced, yet his face was void of a smirk, replaced with nothing but cold determination. "But I fear the chaos is only getting more and more violent." He muttered, throwing a glance over his shoulder towards the door before placing on his helmet. Another fight was brewing. Alypius knew it, and had prepared himself accordingly.
JD
Staff Team
JD
Staff Team
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Perhaps if the circumstances where less dire, Alypius wouldn't of been sick to his core. But perhaps it wasn't that. Perhaps it was because of the head he held in his hand, and the crown he placed around his arm. Maybe it was the stench of blood that lingered in his nostrils. But no, it couldn't of been any of that. Alypius had seen far too much bloodshed in his life. He had taken the heads of his enemies with one swift strike. He had been covered in the blood of his enemies too many times too count. This was something different. It was a matter of his wavering confidence. It was the fact he starred into the eyes of the Prince, or rather newly made king, and he didn't know what to say.
"Just take the head and pull yourself to the crypt" Alypius told himself in the back of his head. His eyes lingered on the Prince, yet he said no more than his name. It was not the time, nor the place. With his fingers gripping around the cloth tightly, he gave nothing more than a nod towards his new king. His body moved without thinking, as he marched towards the door in silence. Yet as if some indescribable force pulled him back, he froze into place hearing the voice of Vangelis. The Taengean threw a glance back, with somewhat of a grin. "We Taengeans are not easy to kill." He announced with a newly sourced form of confidence, yet an air of uncertainty and falsehood scarred his voice. Perhaps his brave face was nothing more than an act.
Yet with a mission in mind, and orders given Alypius marched his way out the room. Crossing through the doors, the shouts and screams from beyond the palaces walls where all made clear once more. Gritting his teeth, fighting the urge to run back into the fray of battle, Alypius placed one foot in front of the other marching on past the guards that stood beyond the door. Marching past those who ran out the palace to protect ho they could, marching past the chaos, marching past the screams, marching past it all.
If it was not for his basic knowledge of the palace, Alypius would of been the worst person to entrust this task too, yet he was able to find his way with relative ease. He found the stairway down. Further down than he first imagined. The crypt had to of been dug deep, deep underneath the Palace. It shouldn't of been a surprise, yet he couldn't help but let his mind race as the screams, and sounds of chaos soon drifted into nothing. Did the men down here guarding truly know what was happening on the surface? Or were they just as unaware as the citizens in Athenia or Colchis?
As his feet in flat ground once more, the soldier broke off into a sprint. His armour clanging and echoing across the walls. There where a few guards in sight, their heads lifting up to see the blood soaked Taegean holding the crown of the fallen king, and a makeshift bag of his own cape, the bottom soaked and dripping with blood. Alypius was sure to make himself seem none threatening as he approached, as he raised his hands, announcing his name with a stern force not heard before by the warrior. He was swift to explain himself and the crisis happening on the surface, and with little effort his way allowed entrance into the crypt.
If he had entered the Crypt but two hours earlier his view of it would of been different. The treasure might have caused his eyes to linger and his fingers to fidget. Yet not today, not with the head in his hand. His eyes glazed across all the gold, all the jewels, finding no interest within it. Instead his eyes saw out a spot. Easily visible, flat and raised off the ground. Finding that to be a large table near the back of the crypt, Alypius placed the head down, with the crown next to it. Taking a step back, he let the silence consume him, as nothing but his beating heart became clear. It beat fast and loud. If it served but one purpose it told him he was alive, and that he was grateful for.
Upon leaving the crypt his eyes looked towards the guards. Their faces now twisted with anticipation and fear, now knowing what was going on at the surface. "Why you look scared friends... Chin up, stand tall, the fight is not over yet and I along with the new king leave the hardest task up to you. So make us proud men." Alypius grinned, as he stepped away from the men towards the stairs. His voice sounded clear and powerful. Just as it should of, just as it would have to if he wished to survive.
To everyone back in that room, Alypius was gone for nothing more than fifteen minutes. Pushing through those doors, he returned as instructed. He was dressed within the armour he had fought his way to the palace in, that was made clear enough by dried stains of blood, his helm held under his arm. Yet over his shoulder, he brandished a new cape, baring the symbol of Taengea.
"The head and crown are secure my Majesty." The lieutenant announced, yet his face was void of a smirk, replaced with nothing but cold determination. "But I fear the chaos is only getting more and more violent." He muttered, throwing a glance over his shoulder towards the door before placing on his helmet. Another fight was brewing. Alypius knew it, and had prepared himself accordingly.
Perhaps if the circumstances where less dire, Alypius wouldn't of been sick to his core. But perhaps it wasn't that. Perhaps it was because of the head he held in his hand, and the crown he placed around his arm. Maybe it was the stench of blood that lingered in his nostrils. But no, it couldn't of been any of that. Alypius had seen far too much bloodshed in his life. He had taken the heads of his enemies with one swift strike. He had been covered in the blood of his enemies too many times too count. This was something different. It was a matter of his wavering confidence. It was the fact he starred into the eyes of the Prince, or rather newly made king, and he didn't know what to say.
"Just take the head and pull yourself to the crypt" Alypius told himself in the back of his head. His eyes lingered on the Prince, yet he said no more than his name. It was not the time, nor the place. With his fingers gripping around the cloth tightly, he gave nothing more than a nod towards his new king. His body moved without thinking, as he marched towards the door in silence. Yet as if some indescribable force pulled him back, he froze into place hearing the voice of Vangelis. The Taengean threw a glance back, with somewhat of a grin. "We Taengeans are not easy to kill." He announced with a newly sourced form of confidence, yet an air of uncertainty and falsehood scarred his voice. Perhaps his brave face was nothing more than an act.
Yet with a mission in mind, and orders given Alypius marched his way out the room. Crossing through the doors, the shouts and screams from beyond the palaces walls where all made clear once more. Gritting his teeth, fighting the urge to run back into the fray of battle, Alypius placed one foot in front of the other marching on past the guards that stood beyond the door. Marching past those who ran out the palace to protect ho they could, marching past the chaos, marching past the screams, marching past it all.
If it was not for his basic knowledge of the palace, Alypius would of been the worst person to entrust this task too, yet he was able to find his way with relative ease. He found the stairway down. Further down than he first imagined. The crypt had to of been dug deep, deep underneath the Palace. It shouldn't of been a surprise, yet he couldn't help but let his mind race as the screams, and sounds of chaos soon drifted into nothing. Did the men down here guarding truly know what was happening on the surface? Or were they just as unaware as the citizens in Athenia or Colchis?
As his feet in flat ground once more, the soldier broke off into a sprint. His armour clanging and echoing across the walls. There where a few guards in sight, their heads lifting up to see the blood soaked Taegean holding the crown of the fallen king, and a makeshift bag of his own cape, the bottom soaked and dripping with blood. Alypius was sure to make himself seem none threatening as he approached, as he raised his hands, announcing his name with a stern force not heard before by the warrior. He was swift to explain himself and the crisis happening on the surface, and with little effort his way allowed entrance into the crypt.
If he had entered the Crypt but two hours earlier his view of it would of been different. The treasure might have caused his eyes to linger and his fingers to fidget. Yet not today, not with the head in his hand. His eyes glazed across all the gold, all the jewels, finding no interest within it. Instead his eyes saw out a spot. Easily visible, flat and raised off the ground. Finding that to be a large table near the back of the crypt, Alypius placed the head down, with the crown next to it. Taking a step back, he let the silence consume him, as nothing but his beating heart became clear. It beat fast and loud. If it served but one purpose it told him he was alive, and that he was grateful for.
Upon leaving the crypt his eyes looked towards the guards. Their faces now twisted with anticipation and fear, now knowing what was going on at the surface. "Why you look scared friends... Chin up, stand tall, the fight is not over yet and I along with the new king leave the hardest task up to you. So make us proud men." Alypius grinned, as he stepped away from the men towards the stairs. His voice sounded clear and powerful. Just as it should of, just as it would have to if he wished to survive.
To everyone back in that room, Alypius was gone for nothing more than fifteen minutes. Pushing through those doors, he returned as instructed. He was dressed within the armour he had fought his way to the palace in, that was made clear enough by dried stains of blood, his helm held under his arm. Yet over his shoulder, he brandished a new cape, baring the symbol of Taengea.
"The head and crown are secure my Majesty." The lieutenant announced, yet his face was void of a smirk, replaced with nothing but cold determination. "But I fear the chaos is only getting more and more violent." He muttered, throwing a glance over his shoulder towards the door before placing on his helmet. Another fight was brewing. Alypius knew it, and had prepared himself accordingly.
