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It could have been hours, or minutes she couldn't tell. Ever since she had left the men to their battle she had been restless. Any attempt at lying down to close her eyes brought back visions of the circus, of the man holding her in place while the chariots bared down on her, of the king's head on a stake. After a time she gave up and instead tried her best to look presentable, washing her face and arms and trying to make her hair behave itself which proved to be the most futile of motions. A harried servant brought her a comb and she removed the pins, allowing the mess of knots and curls to fall as they may. As she brushed it through, trying to remove the mess and any dust from the circus she allowed herself to fall almost into a trance, trying to ignore any fears and pangs of anxiety that might fight their way through, ignoring any sounds that came from outside her room.
A knock some time later startled her, and she searched for anything sharp to defend herself with though even as she did so she knew it was silly. An enemy wouldn't knock. A slave peered in at her call to enter, making a quizzical expression at the brush she held as if to stab someone with the blunt end.
"His highness requests your attendance, my lady."
Olympia breathed out a sigh of relief. So Stephanos was still alive then in spite of everything else that had happened.
Following the slave, she was on high alert for any sort of shadows, afraid that at any moment someone might jump out and try to assassinate her. She still wore her looser chiton from the event, the olive green color contrasting with any dark stains of blood or dirt from the day's proceedings, her hair no longer pinned up or restrained in any way. It was an entirely informal look, but then again after everything they had been through in the past twelve or so hours had hardly allowed her much in the way of preparing for a meeting with her new king.
Whatever she had expected, it wasn't this. She had seen him undone before, in the throes of passion, and the sight of his bare body no longer made her blush, but this was different. As he bathed Stephanos looked entirely....human. The blood and dirt of the day being rinsed away left the tracks of cuts and bruises, the sights of future scars in his skin. Gods she longed for a real bath of her own soon. In the meantime, she had her king to answer to.
"My lord. You called for me?"
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It could have been hours, or minutes she couldn't tell. Ever since she had left the men to their battle she had been restless. Any attempt at lying down to close her eyes brought back visions of the circus, of the man holding her in place while the chariots bared down on her, of the king's head on a stake. After a time she gave up and instead tried her best to look presentable, washing her face and arms and trying to make her hair behave itself which proved to be the most futile of motions. A harried servant brought her a comb and she removed the pins, allowing the mess of knots and curls to fall as they may. As she brushed it through, trying to remove the mess and any dust from the circus she allowed herself to fall almost into a trance, trying to ignore any fears and pangs of anxiety that might fight their way through, ignoring any sounds that came from outside her room.
A knock some time later startled her, and she searched for anything sharp to defend herself with though even as she did so she knew it was silly. An enemy wouldn't knock. A slave peered in at her call to enter, making a quizzical expression at the brush she held as if to stab someone with the blunt end.
"His highness requests your attendance, my lady."
Olympia breathed out a sigh of relief. So Stephanos was still alive then in spite of everything else that had happened.
Following the slave, she was on high alert for any sort of shadows, afraid that at any moment someone might jump out and try to assassinate her. She still wore her looser chiton from the event, the olive green color contrasting with any dark stains of blood or dirt from the day's proceedings, her hair no longer pinned up or restrained in any way. It was an entirely informal look, but then again after everything they had been through in the past twelve or so hours had hardly allowed her much in the way of preparing for a meeting with her new king.
Whatever she had expected, it wasn't this. She had seen him undone before, in the throes of passion, and the sight of his bare body no longer made her blush, but this was different. As he bathed Stephanos looked entirely....human. The blood and dirt of the day being rinsed away left the tracks of cuts and bruises, the sights of future scars in his skin. Gods she longed for a real bath of her own soon. In the meantime, she had her king to answer to.
"My lord. You called for me?"
It could have been hours, or minutes she couldn't tell. Ever since she had left the men to their battle she had been restless. Any attempt at lying down to close her eyes brought back visions of the circus, of the man holding her in place while the chariots bared down on her, of the king's head on a stake. After a time she gave up and instead tried her best to look presentable, washing her face and arms and trying to make her hair behave itself which proved to be the most futile of motions. A harried servant brought her a comb and she removed the pins, allowing the mess of knots and curls to fall as they may. As she brushed it through, trying to remove the mess and any dust from the circus she allowed herself to fall almost into a trance, trying to ignore any fears and pangs of anxiety that might fight their way through, ignoring any sounds that came from outside her room.
A knock some time later startled her, and she searched for anything sharp to defend herself with though even as she did so she knew it was silly. An enemy wouldn't knock. A slave peered in at her call to enter, making a quizzical expression at the brush she held as if to stab someone with the blunt end.
"His highness requests your attendance, my lady."
Olympia breathed out a sigh of relief. So Stephanos was still alive then in spite of everything else that had happened.
Following the slave, she was on high alert for any sort of shadows, afraid that at any moment someone might jump out and try to assassinate her. She still wore her looser chiton from the event, the olive green color contrasting with any dark stains of blood or dirt from the day's proceedings, her hair no longer pinned up or restrained in any way. It was an entirely informal look, but then again after everything they had been through in the past twelve or so hours had hardly allowed her much in the way of preparing for a meeting with her new king.
Whatever she had expected, it wasn't this. She had seen him undone before, in the throes of passion, and the sight of his bare body no longer made her blush, but this was different. As he bathed Stephanos looked entirely....human. The blood and dirt of the day being rinsed away left the tracks of cuts and bruises, the sights of future scars in his skin. Gods she longed for a real bath of her own soon. In the meantime, she had her king to answer to.
"My lord. You called for me?"
He stared at the dirt and grit floating at the edges of the tub. Tendrils of blood twisted, curling around before breaking apart and dissipating in the water. The water was tepid, all heat having escaped a while ago. When he’d first come back to the palace, he hadn’t immediately gone to his room. Other things needed seen to first. Now the sun had set and there was no escaping seeing to himself anymore.
First he’d dropped his chiton on the ground and stepped into the round bathtub. He sat with his legs pulled up to his chest. The tops of his knees and thighs stuck out of the water. Before he saw to his own blood, he took the rag and scrubbed at his calf where the congealed blood of his father’s head crusted against his skin. It glistened now that it was submerged in water.
He gritted his teeth, pushing the rag down harder. The faces of his people flitted through his mind. The rag scrubbed over his skin. King Zennon’s head had been at a weird angle on the pole. His crown was cockeyed. It shone as though freshly polished. Stephanos bunched the cloth up in his fist, scouring his leg. Pinpricks of pain itched over his leg. Still he didn’t stop.
His chest rose and fell rapidly. How did no one see the pike being erected? How had he been racing, laughing, while his father was butchered. Where was the body?
“Dammit!” he cursed, jerking his hand away from his leg. Raising it out of the water, he narrowed his eyes at the raw wound he’d just made, confused for a moment about how it happened. The rag made a slapping sound a he dropped it into the water and held his head in his hands.
The scent of wet blood clogged his nose. The stench of sweat and dirt lingered. His skin stung. He was so goddamn tired.
At the sound of footsteps in the corridor, he dunked under the water, gripping the rag from the bottom of the tub and working to remove the rest of the blood, his and other's, off his body. He surfaced again, wicking water off his face just as the door opened. Why he was pretending with Pia was a mystery. She hadn’t been summoned for any of the usual reasons. In fact, he didn’t want talk to her, much less anyone else but he had to. Nothing could be put off until morning.
"My lord. You called for me?"
“Your Majesty,” he corrected bitterly without looking at her. After a moment, he looked up, ready to drop the anger he’d been forced to carry all day. “Pia…” He held out his arm over the side of the tub to her. His skin glistened, slick and wet.
His emotions were constantly bouncing back and forth. First he hated her, then he wanted her soft arms around him. With Vangelis around, he hadn’t been able to reach for her, hadn’t wanted to act like himself. Instead he'd mirrored the other man; he'd been cold to people, gruff in a way that was completely uncharacteristic. Vangelis was what he felt a crown prince should be - would someday make a magnificent king. As for himself? He was barely a decent human being, now in the same room with a woman he wasn’t sure he ever really knew.
“There are things we need to discuss,” he said, scrubbing off the last of the dried blood and standing up, finally as clean as he was going to be. With the grit and sand and blood gone, his wounds were much less than he’d expected, but some deeper than they should have been. One of the servants had left a pile of linen bandages at his request.
He reached for a sheet to dry off with but dropped it immediately and sat on the bed, looking at the crumpled fabric. Parts of it were smeared red. “I hate this,” he muttered, laying his head on her shoulder when she came near enough for him to pull her down next to him. It didn’t occur to him to be ashamed of his nakedness in front of her. They’d done worse than this in the past few months.
“I’m afraid to send you home,” he pulled back, looking her over. “But I will if you want to go. If you really think your father can protect you. I'm not certain the palace is any safer, at the moment” Reaching up, he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, letting the backs of his knuckles brush along her cheek. She was so familiar and yet, after today, a complete stranger. He shouldn’t have been surprised at her attempts to trap him but now, with everything else that had happened, it was probably a good thing she had.
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He stared at the dirt and grit floating at the edges of the tub. Tendrils of blood twisted, curling around before breaking apart and dissipating in the water. The water was tepid, all heat having escaped a while ago. When he’d first come back to the palace, he hadn’t immediately gone to his room. Other things needed seen to first. Now the sun had set and there was no escaping seeing to himself anymore.
First he’d dropped his chiton on the ground and stepped into the round bathtub. He sat with his legs pulled up to his chest. The tops of his knees and thighs stuck out of the water. Before he saw to his own blood, he took the rag and scrubbed at his calf where the congealed blood of his father’s head crusted against his skin. It glistened now that it was submerged in water.
He gritted his teeth, pushing the rag down harder. The faces of his people flitted through his mind. The rag scrubbed over his skin. King Zennon’s head had been at a weird angle on the pole. His crown was cockeyed. It shone as though freshly polished. Stephanos bunched the cloth up in his fist, scouring his leg. Pinpricks of pain itched over his leg. Still he didn’t stop.
His chest rose and fell rapidly. How did no one see the pike being erected? How had he been racing, laughing, while his father was butchered. Where was the body?
“Dammit!” he cursed, jerking his hand away from his leg. Raising it out of the water, he narrowed his eyes at the raw wound he’d just made, confused for a moment about how it happened. The rag made a slapping sound a he dropped it into the water and held his head in his hands.
The scent of wet blood clogged his nose. The stench of sweat and dirt lingered. His skin stung. He was so goddamn tired.
At the sound of footsteps in the corridor, he dunked under the water, gripping the rag from the bottom of the tub and working to remove the rest of the blood, his and other's, off his body. He surfaced again, wicking water off his face just as the door opened. Why he was pretending with Pia was a mystery. She hadn’t been summoned for any of the usual reasons. In fact, he didn’t want talk to her, much less anyone else but he had to. Nothing could be put off until morning.
"My lord. You called for me?"
“Your Majesty,” he corrected bitterly without looking at her. After a moment, he looked up, ready to drop the anger he’d been forced to carry all day. “Pia…” He held out his arm over the side of the tub to her. His skin glistened, slick and wet.
His emotions were constantly bouncing back and forth. First he hated her, then he wanted her soft arms around him. With Vangelis around, he hadn’t been able to reach for her, hadn’t wanted to act like himself. Instead he'd mirrored the other man; he'd been cold to people, gruff in a way that was completely uncharacteristic. Vangelis was what he felt a crown prince should be - would someday make a magnificent king. As for himself? He was barely a decent human being, now in the same room with a woman he wasn’t sure he ever really knew.
“There are things we need to discuss,” he said, scrubbing off the last of the dried blood and standing up, finally as clean as he was going to be. With the grit and sand and blood gone, his wounds were much less than he’d expected, but some deeper than they should have been. One of the servants had left a pile of linen bandages at his request.
He reached for a sheet to dry off with but dropped it immediately and sat on the bed, looking at the crumpled fabric. Parts of it were smeared red. “I hate this,” he muttered, laying his head on her shoulder when she came near enough for him to pull her down next to him. It didn’t occur to him to be ashamed of his nakedness in front of her. They’d done worse than this in the past few months.
“I’m afraid to send you home,” he pulled back, looking her over. “But I will if you want to go. If you really think your father can protect you. I'm not certain the palace is any safer, at the moment” Reaching up, he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, letting the backs of his knuckles brush along her cheek. She was so familiar and yet, after today, a complete stranger. He shouldn’t have been surprised at her attempts to trap him but now, with everything else that had happened, it was probably a good thing she had.
He stared at the dirt and grit floating at the edges of the tub. Tendrils of blood twisted, curling around before breaking apart and dissipating in the water. The water was tepid, all heat having escaped a while ago. When he’d first come back to the palace, he hadn’t immediately gone to his room. Other things needed seen to first. Now the sun had set and there was no escaping seeing to himself anymore.
First he’d dropped his chiton on the ground and stepped into the round bathtub. He sat with his legs pulled up to his chest. The tops of his knees and thighs stuck out of the water. Before he saw to his own blood, he took the rag and scrubbed at his calf where the congealed blood of his father’s head crusted against his skin. It glistened now that it was submerged in water.
He gritted his teeth, pushing the rag down harder. The faces of his people flitted through his mind. The rag scrubbed over his skin. King Zennon’s head had been at a weird angle on the pole. His crown was cockeyed. It shone as though freshly polished. Stephanos bunched the cloth up in his fist, scouring his leg. Pinpricks of pain itched over his leg. Still he didn’t stop.
His chest rose and fell rapidly. How did no one see the pike being erected? How had he been racing, laughing, while his father was butchered. Where was the body?
“Dammit!” he cursed, jerking his hand away from his leg. Raising it out of the water, he narrowed his eyes at the raw wound he’d just made, confused for a moment about how it happened. The rag made a slapping sound a he dropped it into the water and held his head in his hands.
The scent of wet blood clogged his nose. The stench of sweat and dirt lingered. His skin stung. He was so goddamn tired.
At the sound of footsteps in the corridor, he dunked under the water, gripping the rag from the bottom of the tub and working to remove the rest of the blood, his and other's, off his body. He surfaced again, wicking water off his face just as the door opened. Why he was pretending with Pia was a mystery. She hadn’t been summoned for any of the usual reasons. In fact, he didn’t want talk to her, much less anyone else but he had to. Nothing could be put off until morning.
"My lord. You called for me?"
“Your Majesty,” he corrected bitterly without looking at her. After a moment, he looked up, ready to drop the anger he’d been forced to carry all day. “Pia…” He held out his arm over the side of the tub to her. His skin glistened, slick and wet.
His emotions were constantly bouncing back and forth. First he hated her, then he wanted her soft arms around him. With Vangelis around, he hadn’t been able to reach for her, hadn’t wanted to act like himself. Instead he'd mirrored the other man; he'd been cold to people, gruff in a way that was completely uncharacteristic. Vangelis was what he felt a crown prince should be - would someday make a magnificent king. As for himself? He was barely a decent human being, now in the same room with a woman he wasn’t sure he ever really knew.
“There are things we need to discuss,” he said, scrubbing off the last of the dried blood and standing up, finally as clean as he was going to be. With the grit and sand and blood gone, his wounds were much less than he’d expected, but some deeper than they should have been. One of the servants had left a pile of linen bandages at his request.
He reached for a sheet to dry off with but dropped it immediately and sat on the bed, looking at the crumpled fabric. Parts of it were smeared red. “I hate this,” he muttered, laying his head on her shoulder when she came near enough for him to pull her down next to him. It didn’t occur to him to be ashamed of his nakedness in front of her. They’d done worse than this in the past few months.
“I’m afraid to send you home,” he pulled back, looking her over. “But I will if you want to go. If you really think your father can protect you. I'm not certain the palace is any safer, at the moment” Reaching up, he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, letting the backs of his knuckles brush along her cheek. She was so familiar and yet, after today, a complete stranger. He shouldn’t have been surprised at her attempts to trap him but now, with everything else that had happened, it was probably a good thing she had.
Olympia bristled as he corrected her, parting her lips and letting out her breath in the slightest of hisses, trying to contain the anger that shot through her chest. It felt as if the baby inside was doing flips to protest his father's tone. She twisted her fingers together in a fretting manner, biting back bitter words of her own until he spoke her and used the pet name only her family and closest friends and lovers called her by. Unable to hold back the last bite she gripped her hands so that the knuckles turned white.
"My lady."
The correction was probably too much, and she knew that he had lived through the worst day of his life, but it hadn't been easy on her by any means. She gave in as he held out his hand, the difference in the man between his snapping correction and this moment speaking volumes to how entirely worn his nerves were, and she knew the feeling. They had never been overly close in the time they had spent together, physically of course but emotionally it felt as if it was all skin deep. Certainly it was difficult to be close to the man without developing some sort of feelings, he was after all ridiculously handsome with those piercing blue eyes and a charm that she was obviously weak to given the swell of her stomach.
"Yes, there are."
Her voice had softened and she released his hand as he stood, reaching instead for the bandages that had been stacked aside. She had minimal experience with these sorts of injuries, but she couldn't imagine leaving them uncovered would be for the best, and if they had to talk her hands may as well be occupied in a productive manner. His nakedness hardly cause her to blush any longer, but it was difficult to look at him when the wounds were dripping red once more and she moved over to him without hesitation.
Olympia let him lean against her, wrapping one arm around his shoulders and settling the other gently on his thigh, blind to the blood that was likely staining her chiton along with the rest of the day's mess. His concerns were entirely valid. She didn't know if her father had the strength in numbers to keep them safe, or if anyone would truly be able to keep them protected. She leaned into his touch on her cheek, closing her eyes and pressing her lips to the top of his head. These moments of affection were new and rare, and she didn't entirely dislike them. If this was going to be part of their new normal it was something she could grow accustomed to.
"I know. I wish I could give some sort of answer. I want to be with my family, but if you want me here...us here. I know you aren't pleased about this...and that whatever I say the odds of you believing me are slim. But I never intended for this."
She gestured to her stomach, pulling back to try to meet his gaze in that rare moment of honesty between them.
"An accident. I suppose now a happy accident. But, I am here. And I will stay with you if you wish. Or I'll go away somewhere, if you don't wish to take us on."
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Olympia bristled as he corrected her, parting her lips and letting out her breath in the slightest of hisses, trying to contain the anger that shot through her chest. It felt as if the baby inside was doing flips to protest his father's tone. She twisted her fingers together in a fretting manner, biting back bitter words of her own until he spoke her and used the pet name only her family and closest friends and lovers called her by. Unable to hold back the last bite she gripped her hands so that the knuckles turned white.
"My lady."
The correction was probably too much, and she knew that he had lived through the worst day of his life, but it hadn't been easy on her by any means. She gave in as he held out his hand, the difference in the man between his snapping correction and this moment speaking volumes to how entirely worn his nerves were, and she knew the feeling. They had never been overly close in the time they had spent together, physically of course but emotionally it felt as if it was all skin deep. Certainly it was difficult to be close to the man without developing some sort of feelings, he was after all ridiculously handsome with those piercing blue eyes and a charm that she was obviously weak to given the swell of her stomach.
"Yes, there are."
Her voice had softened and she released his hand as he stood, reaching instead for the bandages that had been stacked aside. She had minimal experience with these sorts of injuries, but she couldn't imagine leaving them uncovered would be for the best, and if they had to talk her hands may as well be occupied in a productive manner. His nakedness hardly cause her to blush any longer, but it was difficult to look at him when the wounds were dripping red once more and she moved over to him without hesitation.
Olympia let him lean against her, wrapping one arm around his shoulders and settling the other gently on his thigh, blind to the blood that was likely staining her chiton along with the rest of the day's mess. His concerns were entirely valid. She didn't know if her father had the strength in numbers to keep them safe, or if anyone would truly be able to keep them protected. She leaned into his touch on her cheek, closing her eyes and pressing her lips to the top of his head. These moments of affection were new and rare, and she didn't entirely dislike them. If this was going to be part of their new normal it was something she could grow accustomed to.
"I know. I wish I could give some sort of answer. I want to be with my family, but if you want me here...us here. I know you aren't pleased about this...and that whatever I say the odds of you believing me are slim. But I never intended for this."
She gestured to her stomach, pulling back to try to meet his gaze in that rare moment of honesty between them.
"An accident. I suppose now a happy accident. But, I am here. And I will stay with you if you wish. Or I'll go away somewhere, if you don't wish to take us on."
Olympia bristled as he corrected her, parting her lips and letting out her breath in the slightest of hisses, trying to contain the anger that shot through her chest. It felt as if the baby inside was doing flips to protest his father's tone. She twisted her fingers together in a fretting manner, biting back bitter words of her own until he spoke her and used the pet name only her family and closest friends and lovers called her by. Unable to hold back the last bite she gripped her hands so that the knuckles turned white.
"My lady."
The correction was probably too much, and she knew that he had lived through the worst day of his life, but it hadn't been easy on her by any means. She gave in as he held out his hand, the difference in the man between his snapping correction and this moment speaking volumes to how entirely worn his nerves were, and she knew the feeling. They had never been overly close in the time they had spent together, physically of course but emotionally it felt as if it was all skin deep. Certainly it was difficult to be close to the man without developing some sort of feelings, he was after all ridiculously handsome with those piercing blue eyes and a charm that she was obviously weak to given the swell of her stomach.
"Yes, there are."
Her voice had softened and she released his hand as he stood, reaching instead for the bandages that had been stacked aside. She had minimal experience with these sorts of injuries, but she couldn't imagine leaving them uncovered would be for the best, and if they had to talk her hands may as well be occupied in a productive manner. His nakedness hardly cause her to blush any longer, but it was difficult to look at him when the wounds were dripping red once more and she moved over to him without hesitation.
Olympia let him lean against her, wrapping one arm around his shoulders and settling the other gently on his thigh, blind to the blood that was likely staining her chiton along with the rest of the day's mess. His concerns were entirely valid. She didn't know if her father had the strength in numbers to keep them safe, or if anyone would truly be able to keep them protected. She leaned into his touch on her cheek, closing her eyes and pressing her lips to the top of his head. These moments of affection were new and rare, and she didn't entirely dislike them. If this was going to be part of their new normal it was something she could grow accustomed to.
"I know. I wish I could give some sort of answer. I want to be with my family, but if you want me here...us here. I know you aren't pleased about this...and that whatever I say the odds of you believing me are slim. But I never intended for this."
She gestured to her stomach, pulling back to try to meet his gaze in that rare moment of honesty between them.
"An accident. I suppose now a happy accident. But, I am here. And I will stay with you if you wish. Or I'll go away somewhere, if you don't wish to take us on."
Stephanos stayed silent while she wound the bandages over his arms and around his shoulder. As for his legs, he attended to them himself. The process was over quickly and he stood to grab a chiton to sleep in. Even clean and bandaged, he was a mess. Coming back, he sat down beside her again with his head on her shoulder. His eyes slid closed for a moment when she put her arm around him and offered a kiss he hadn’t realized he’d needed.
He sat back up. His hands shook as he raked his fingers through his hair. The moment to speak was upon them and now he couldn’t form words, much less a coherent train of thought. Everything required immediate attention. His father’s funeral, a meeting with his Uncle Irakles, convening the senate so that he could be coronated, addressing the people; and all that was the simple politics of it. There was so much more.
With her, he did not address these concerns. She was a bed mate among many. Not a confidante.
He listened with a patience he did not feel as she assured him she would do as he wished. When she alluded to the pregnancy, he sighed and looked away. She was right. He didn’t believe her. However, whatever he thought about her motives or feelings no longer mattered. She was single, available, and pregnant with his son.
“I need you to stay.” He stared down at his bloody knuckles, wondering when and how that had happened. “And I need to marry you.” Finally, he looked up. Most of the time he was charming and playful. A different time, perhaps in different circumstances, he would have teased her into saying yes; wooed her into laughing and begging him to just make the offer.
He was just too goddamn tired to bother.
“We, neither of us, have much of a choice at the moment. You have my son. I need your family’s support. You need protection and the child needs to be claimed.” None of it was a question. He wasn’t asking her to say yes and he wasn’t asking her to swoon in romance. What he was counting on was her intelligence not to refuse. Stephanos was many things but he was not a liar. What this would be between them needed to be clear. His gaze moved over her face to her mouth, lingering there for a moment before he brought his eyes back up to hers.
His serious demeanor softened a little and he nudged her with his shoulder, finally allowing at least the corners of his mouth to turn up. “Agreed? I don’t think your mother would mind too much if you married me.”
Lifting up the Leventi House in this way was the last thing he wanted but he couldn’t risk not having a foothold with them or denying her father, the first legitimate grandson. Irakles already had Achilleas engaged to Olympia’s sister, Theodora. A thing that had given Stephanos no concern up until a few hours ago.
This morning, he’d woken up in this very room with a blinding hangover and the perfume of a dancer from the Leventi’s party in his bed. He had both parents and his brother Zacharias would deal with all the politics of the realm. Stephanos’s life had been as perfect this morning as it had ever been. How quickly things could change.
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Stephanos stayed silent while she wound the bandages over his arms and around his shoulder. As for his legs, he attended to them himself. The process was over quickly and he stood to grab a chiton to sleep in. Even clean and bandaged, he was a mess. Coming back, he sat down beside her again with his head on her shoulder. His eyes slid closed for a moment when she put her arm around him and offered a kiss he hadn’t realized he’d needed.
He sat back up. His hands shook as he raked his fingers through his hair. The moment to speak was upon them and now he couldn’t form words, much less a coherent train of thought. Everything required immediate attention. His father’s funeral, a meeting with his Uncle Irakles, convening the senate so that he could be coronated, addressing the people; and all that was the simple politics of it. There was so much more.
With her, he did not address these concerns. She was a bed mate among many. Not a confidante.
He listened with a patience he did not feel as she assured him she would do as he wished. When she alluded to the pregnancy, he sighed and looked away. She was right. He didn’t believe her. However, whatever he thought about her motives or feelings no longer mattered. She was single, available, and pregnant with his son.
“I need you to stay.” He stared down at his bloody knuckles, wondering when and how that had happened. “And I need to marry you.” Finally, he looked up. Most of the time he was charming and playful. A different time, perhaps in different circumstances, he would have teased her into saying yes; wooed her into laughing and begging him to just make the offer.
He was just too goddamn tired to bother.
“We, neither of us, have much of a choice at the moment. You have my son. I need your family’s support. You need protection and the child needs to be claimed.” None of it was a question. He wasn’t asking her to say yes and he wasn’t asking her to swoon in romance. What he was counting on was her intelligence not to refuse. Stephanos was many things but he was not a liar. What this would be between them needed to be clear. His gaze moved over her face to her mouth, lingering there for a moment before he brought his eyes back up to hers.
His serious demeanor softened a little and he nudged her with his shoulder, finally allowing at least the corners of his mouth to turn up. “Agreed? I don’t think your mother would mind too much if you married me.”
Lifting up the Leventi House in this way was the last thing he wanted but he couldn’t risk not having a foothold with them or denying her father, the first legitimate grandson. Irakles already had Achilleas engaged to Olympia’s sister, Theodora. A thing that had given Stephanos no concern up until a few hours ago.
This morning, he’d woken up in this very room with a blinding hangover and the perfume of a dancer from the Leventi’s party in his bed. He had both parents and his brother Zacharias would deal with all the politics of the realm. Stephanos’s life had been as perfect this morning as it had ever been. How quickly things could change.
Stephanos stayed silent while she wound the bandages over his arms and around his shoulder. As for his legs, he attended to them himself. The process was over quickly and he stood to grab a chiton to sleep in. Even clean and bandaged, he was a mess. Coming back, he sat down beside her again with his head on her shoulder. His eyes slid closed for a moment when she put her arm around him and offered a kiss he hadn’t realized he’d needed.
He sat back up. His hands shook as he raked his fingers through his hair. The moment to speak was upon them and now he couldn’t form words, much less a coherent train of thought. Everything required immediate attention. His father’s funeral, a meeting with his Uncle Irakles, convening the senate so that he could be coronated, addressing the people; and all that was the simple politics of it. There was so much more.
With her, he did not address these concerns. She was a bed mate among many. Not a confidante.
He listened with a patience he did not feel as she assured him she would do as he wished. When she alluded to the pregnancy, he sighed and looked away. She was right. He didn’t believe her. However, whatever he thought about her motives or feelings no longer mattered. She was single, available, and pregnant with his son.
“I need you to stay.” He stared down at his bloody knuckles, wondering when and how that had happened. “And I need to marry you.” Finally, he looked up. Most of the time he was charming and playful. A different time, perhaps in different circumstances, he would have teased her into saying yes; wooed her into laughing and begging him to just make the offer.
He was just too goddamn tired to bother.
“We, neither of us, have much of a choice at the moment. You have my son. I need your family’s support. You need protection and the child needs to be claimed.” None of it was a question. He wasn’t asking her to say yes and he wasn’t asking her to swoon in romance. What he was counting on was her intelligence not to refuse. Stephanos was many things but he was not a liar. What this would be between them needed to be clear. His gaze moved over her face to her mouth, lingering there for a moment before he brought his eyes back up to hers.
His serious demeanor softened a little and he nudged her with his shoulder, finally allowing at least the corners of his mouth to turn up. “Agreed? I don’t think your mother would mind too much if you married me.”
Lifting up the Leventi House in this way was the last thing he wanted but he couldn’t risk not having a foothold with them or denying her father, the first legitimate grandson. Irakles already had Achilleas engaged to Olympia’s sister, Theodora. A thing that had given Stephanos no concern up until a few hours ago.
This morning, he’d woken up in this very room with a blinding hangover and the perfume of a dancer from the Leventi’s party in his bed. He had both parents and his brother Zacharias would deal with all the politics of the realm. Stephanos’s life had been as perfect this morning as it had ever been. How quickly things could change.
Finishing the bandages he allowed her to manage, Olympia watched in silence as he stood to grab a fresh chiton, arms ready to wrap around him once more when he returned though she was careful not to get any of the muck on her own gown onto him. She ran her fingers softly along the back of his neck, waiting for him to speak and adjusting her motions around his own, not wanting to push after he gave her the opportunity to say all she needed to. Whether he believed her or not didn't matter right now, or so she was trying to tell herself. It was beyond importance at this moment.
She felt her breath catch as his words registered for her. In a way she had always been hoping for it, but after the nonsense of the day she hadn't properly considered the fact that she would need to marry Stephanos now. It all made sense though, and everything he said made a point. She needed him and he needed her, or at least the legitimacy of the child she carried, and she nodded in assent.
"Agreed. Though I believe she was hoping to be through one wedding before planning another."
Pia smiled back at him as she reached out to twine his hand with both of her own, bringing it to her lips for a soft kiss. Her dark hair draped over her shoulders and now his, the waves unbound as she sat with her...betrothed the king. It was difficult to wrap her head around, and the surge of joy at the prospect was mixed with dread and anxiety. How dangerous would her life be, all of their lives, until this situation was in hand? She trusted the word of the physician that Stephanos had brought in, but she needed Helena close by to feel truly at ease. The other woman had been a saving grace in her pregnancy from the start and there was no one else she trusted as deeply.
"I have sent for the woman who has been attending me, I hope having her near will ease the remainder of the pregnancy."
She spoke as if in an offhanded way, though she was considering now the fate of Theodora. Would Stephanos still allow her to marry Achilleas? The betrothal was so new it could easily be rendered invalid, but even as she rose she would not see her sister's thrown down. Unless..he feared the connection somehow. All she knew was that from here on out her lot was with him, and she would follow it faithfully as she could.
Shaking off the thoughts for now, she reached for the fastenings of her chiton, suddenly itching to remove the thing that was so stained with blood and dust from the day after the turn into happier news. She slipped it from her shoulders before standing to let the remainder fall. After all, they had seen each other naked before, and now he was her betrothed and she carried his child, what difference did it make. Better to be somewhat clean than covered in what was now almost a glorified rag.
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Finishing the bandages he allowed her to manage, Olympia watched in silence as he stood to grab a fresh chiton, arms ready to wrap around him once more when he returned though she was careful not to get any of the muck on her own gown onto him. She ran her fingers softly along the back of his neck, waiting for him to speak and adjusting her motions around his own, not wanting to push after he gave her the opportunity to say all she needed to. Whether he believed her or not didn't matter right now, or so she was trying to tell herself. It was beyond importance at this moment.
She felt her breath catch as his words registered for her. In a way she had always been hoping for it, but after the nonsense of the day she hadn't properly considered the fact that she would need to marry Stephanos now. It all made sense though, and everything he said made a point. She needed him and he needed her, or at least the legitimacy of the child she carried, and she nodded in assent.
"Agreed. Though I believe she was hoping to be through one wedding before planning another."
Pia smiled back at him as she reached out to twine his hand with both of her own, bringing it to her lips for a soft kiss. Her dark hair draped over her shoulders and now his, the waves unbound as she sat with her...betrothed the king. It was difficult to wrap her head around, and the surge of joy at the prospect was mixed with dread and anxiety. How dangerous would her life be, all of their lives, until this situation was in hand? She trusted the word of the physician that Stephanos had brought in, but she needed Helena close by to feel truly at ease. The other woman had been a saving grace in her pregnancy from the start and there was no one else she trusted as deeply.
"I have sent for the woman who has been attending me, I hope having her near will ease the remainder of the pregnancy."
She spoke as if in an offhanded way, though she was considering now the fate of Theodora. Would Stephanos still allow her to marry Achilleas? The betrothal was so new it could easily be rendered invalid, but even as she rose she would not see her sister's thrown down. Unless..he feared the connection somehow. All she knew was that from here on out her lot was with him, and she would follow it faithfully as she could.
Shaking off the thoughts for now, she reached for the fastenings of her chiton, suddenly itching to remove the thing that was so stained with blood and dust from the day after the turn into happier news. She slipped it from her shoulders before standing to let the remainder fall. After all, they had seen each other naked before, and now he was her betrothed and she carried his child, what difference did it make. Better to be somewhat clean than covered in what was now almost a glorified rag.
Finishing the bandages he allowed her to manage, Olympia watched in silence as he stood to grab a fresh chiton, arms ready to wrap around him once more when he returned though she was careful not to get any of the muck on her own gown onto him. She ran her fingers softly along the back of his neck, waiting for him to speak and adjusting her motions around his own, not wanting to push after he gave her the opportunity to say all she needed to. Whether he believed her or not didn't matter right now, or so she was trying to tell herself. It was beyond importance at this moment.
She felt her breath catch as his words registered for her. In a way she had always been hoping for it, but after the nonsense of the day she hadn't properly considered the fact that she would need to marry Stephanos now. It all made sense though, and everything he said made a point. She needed him and he needed her, or at least the legitimacy of the child she carried, and she nodded in assent.
"Agreed. Though I believe she was hoping to be through one wedding before planning another."
Pia smiled back at him as she reached out to twine his hand with both of her own, bringing it to her lips for a soft kiss. Her dark hair draped over her shoulders and now his, the waves unbound as she sat with her...betrothed the king. It was difficult to wrap her head around, and the surge of joy at the prospect was mixed with dread and anxiety. How dangerous would her life be, all of their lives, until this situation was in hand? She trusted the word of the physician that Stephanos had brought in, but she needed Helena close by to feel truly at ease. The other woman had been a saving grace in her pregnancy from the start and there was no one else she trusted as deeply.
"I have sent for the woman who has been attending me, I hope having her near will ease the remainder of the pregnancy."
She spoke as if in an offhanded way, though she was considering now the fate of Theodora. Would Stephanos still allow her to marry Achilleas? The betrothal was so new it could easily be rendered invalid, but even as she rose she would not see her sister's thrown down. Unless..he feared the connection somehow. All she knew was that from here on out her lot was with him, and she would follow it faithfully as she could.
Shaking off the thoughts for now, she reached for the fastenings of her chiton, suddenly itching to remove the thing that was so stained with blood and dust from the day after the turn into happier news. She slipped it from her shoulders before standing to let the remainder fall. After all, they had seen each other naked before, and now he was her betrothed and she carried his child, what difference did it make. Better to be somewhat clean than covered in what was now almost a glorified rag.
She accepted that they would marry without complaint, just as he’d known she would. What he hadn’t expected was for her to intertwine their hands. He watched her press her lips to his knuckles and tried to keep any confusion off his face. Maybe he’d misjudged her; perhaps she did care for him on a deeper level than just being in line for the throne. After all, she couldn’t have predicted today’s events….could she?
Her expression was difficult to interpret. In it he read elation, but an undercurrent of fear remained; this he understood. Today was the worst in anyone’s living memory. There was no guarantee that tomorrow would be better. Whatever the Creed had planned, it would not stop with this afternoon and he couldn’t imagine they’d rest and let him die of old age.
"I have sent for the woman who has been attending me, I hope having her near will ease the remainder of the pregnancy."
“Hmm?” he glanced up at her, barely listening but at last it clicked into place. “Fine.” A careless wave accompanied these words. “Whatever you want. You see to our son. I’ll see to everything else.” He’d been thinking of the slaves already preparing for his father’s funeral. They’d been hard at work when he’d finally come dragging back into the palace.
His attention was drawn back as she unfastened her chiton, letting it drop to her waist. Irritation flashed through him but was gone the instant he realized she wasn’t doing this to entice him. She stood and he followed suit, walking over to the door and ordering another bath and clean clothes to be brought for her.
“And find Lady Olympia’s healer,” he said to the servant hovering outside the door. If Pia had sent for the woman already, she should have been there by now. That is, unless she’d gone to the wrong rooms.
“Stay with me tonight,” he said as he shut the door again. “I don’t want either of us alone.” His eyes lingered on her body first, before traveling back up to her face. It was like seeing an entirely new creature. She would never leave his side now. All the plans he’d had to have fun with her and then let her go were gone. Now, they needed to form something else and he wasn’t sure how to go about it.
Waiting for the new bath did not take long. The one he’d used was taken away, being far too dirty for more than one person. The other was brought and filled. By then, they’d fallen to discussing the events to come, only a few short hours away; the funeral. As much as he was loathe to have her out of sight, they would not be standing or walking together. She would be with her family, and he with his. And after his father was properly entombed, only then would he announce the engagement. Until then, they would have to go on as they had been for the last few months.
A soft knocking at the door interrupted him as he started to ask how she was coping. With everything that had happened to him, he’d forgotten that she’d been taken at knifepoint and that she was likely more than a little shaken. He offered a guilty smile as his insides squeezed. It was unpleasant to recognize how selfish he’d been; always was. Personally, he thought she was handling it all extremely well, everything considered.
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She accepted that they would marry without complaint, just as he’d known she would. What he hadn’t expected was for her to intertwine their hands. He watched her press her lips to his knuckles and tried to keep any confusion off his face. Maybe he’d misjudged her; perhaps she did care for him on a deeper level than just being in line for the throne. After all, she couldn’t have predicted today’s events….could she?
Her expression was difficult to interpret. In it he read elation, but an undercurrent of fear remained; this he understood. Today was the worst in anyone’s living memory. There was no guarantee that tomorrow would be better. Whatever the Creed had planned, it would not stop with this afternoon and he couldn’t imagine they’d rest and let him die of old age.
"I have sent for the woman who has been attending me, I hope having her near will ease the remainder of the pregnancy."
“Hmm?” he glanced up at her, barely listening but at last it clicked into place. “Fine.” A careless wave accompanied these words. “Whatever you want. You see to our son. I’ll see to everything else.” He’d been thinking of the slaves already preparing for his father’s funeral. They’d been hard at work when he’d finally come dragging back into the palace.
His attention was drawn back as she unfastened her chiton, letting it drop to her waist. Irritation flashed through him but was gone the instant he realized she wasn’t doing this to entice him. She stood and he followed suit, walking over to the door and ordering another bath and clean clothes to be brought for her.
“And find Lady Olympia’s healer,” he said to the servant hovering outside the door. If Pia had sent for the woman already, she should have been there by now. That is, unless she’d gone to the wrong rooms.
“Stay with me tonight,” he said as he shut the door again. “I don’t want either of us alone.” His eyes lingered on her body first, before traveling back up to her face. It was like seeing an entirely new creature. She would never leave his side now. All the plans he’d had to have fun with her and then let her go were gone. Now, they needed to form something else and he wasn’t sure how to go about it.
Waiting for the new bath did not take long. The one he’d used was taken away, being far too dirty for more than one person. The other was brought and filled. By then, they’d fallen to discussing the events to come, only a few short hours away; the funeral. As much as he was loathe to have her out of sight, they would not be standing or walking together. She would be with her family, and he with his. And after his father was properly entombed, only then would he announce the engagement. Until then, they would have to go on as they had been for the last few months.
A soft knocking at the door interrupted him as he started to ask how she was coping. With everything that had happened to him, he’d forgotten that she’d been taken at knifepoint and that she was likely more than a little shaken. He offered a guilty smile as his insides squeezed. It was unpleasant to recognize how selfish he’d been; always was. Personally, he thought she was handling it all extremely well, everything considered.
She accepted that they would marry without complaint, just as he’d known she would. What he hadn’t expected was for her to intertwine their hands. He watched her press her lips to his knuckles and tried to keep any confusion off his face. Maybe he’d misjudged her; perhaps she did care for him on a deeper level than just being in line for the throne. After all, she couldn’t have predicted today’s events….could she?
Her expression was difficult to interpret. In it he read elation, but an undercurrent of fear remained; this he understood. Today was the worst in anyone’s living memory. There was no guarantee that tomorrow would be better. Whatever the Creed had planned, it would not stop with this afternoon and he couldn’t imagine they’d rest and let him die of old age.
"I have sent for the woman who has been attending me, I hope having her near will ease the remainder of the pregnancy."
“Hmm?” he glanced up at her, barely listening but at last it clicked into place. “Fine.” A careless wave accompanied these words. “Whatever you want. You see to our son. I’ll see to everything else.” He’d been thinking of the slaves already preparing for his father’s funeral. They’d been hard at work when he’d finally come dragging back into the palace.
His attention was drawn back as she unfastened her chiton, letting it drop to her waist. Irritation flashed through him but was gone the instant he realized she wasn’t doing this to entice him. She stood and he followed suit, walking over to the door and ordering another bath and clean clothes to be brought for her.
“And find Lady Olympia’s healer,” he said to the servant hovering outside the door. If Pia had sent for the woman already, she should have been there by now. That is, unless she’d gone to the wrong rooms.
“Stay with me tonight,” he said as he shut the door again. “I don’t want either of us alone.” His eyes lingered on her body first, before traveling back up to her face. It was like seeing an entirely new creature. She would never leave his side now. All the plans he’d had to have fun with her and then let her go were gone. Now, they needed to form something else and he wasn’t sure how to go about it.
Waiting for the new bath did not take long. The one he’d used was taken away, being far too dirty for more than one person. The other was brought and filled. By then, they’d fallen to discussing the events to come, only a few short hours away; the funeral. As much as he was loathe to have her out of sight, they would not be standing or walking together. She would be with her family, and he with his. And after his father was properly entombed, only then would he announce the engagement. Until then, they would have to go on as they had been for the last few months.
A soft knocking at the door interrupted him as he started to ask how she was coping. With everything that had happened to him, he’d forgotten that she’d been taken at knifepoint and that she was likely more than a little shaken. He offered a guilty smile as his insides squeezed. It was unpleasant to recognize how selfish he’d been; always was. Personally, he thought she was handling it all extremely well, everything considered.
Pia was relieved for once that he seemed to have no inclination to embrace her or take her to bed at that moment. For the first time that day she was realizing how little she actually had any desire to be touched after the rough handling brush with death from earlier in the day. The warm bath he ordered was yet another relief, and she sank into the tub with a contented sigh, closing her eyes in that short moment of safety with him nearby. They would be married, and no doubt soon to secure the legitimacy of their son.
"Of course, whatever you think is safest for us. I will stay or retreat to my family home accordingly."
Rinsing the dirt and blood from her skin and hair, Olympia looked at the bruises that had been forming across her chest and legs from the rough treatment in the arena. The man's grip had left a mark just above her breasts where one arm had held her close enough for the knife to nick against her skin, the wounds on her legs just from the kicking and banging against things she had done to try to get free. It was painfully obvious against the paleness of her skin, and she swallowed back tears as the talk turned of the funeral.
She would stand with her family, perhaps returning home with them or going back to the palace, that could be decided later when Desma and guards could come collect and keep her safe. Indeed, she doubted the old slave would allow her out of her sight once she returned, but she found herself longing for a scolding from the spinster before being wrapped up in her crotchety embrace.
The knock on the door came as Olympia had lifted herself out of the bath and begun to dry herself, combing her fingers through her hair after draping the clean chiton around her. Helena's arrival was a welcome interruption from the question she had little desire to answer. How could she tell him she was as shattered emotionally as she had ever been in her life, the sight of one lover's head on a pike while the other was forced to battle his way through enemies, the sudden change in her life, why she had been snatched into the arena instead of another, All too many thoughts for her to take in right now.
"I'll be fine. One thing at a time I suppose. Helena, thank you for coming. Your majesty, Helena has been assisting me since I first discovered I was with child."
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Pia was relieved for once that he seemed to have no inclination to embrace her or take her to bed at that moment. For the first time that day she was realizing how little she actually had any desire to be touched after the rough handling brush with death from earlier in the day. The warm bath he ordered was yet another relief, and she sank into the tub with a contented sigh, closing her eyes in that short moment of safety with him nearby. They would be married, and no doubt soon to secure the legitimacy of their son.
"Of course, whatever you think is safest for us. I will stay or retreat to my family home accordingly."
Rinsing the dirt and blood from her skin and hair, Olympia looked at the bruises that had been forming across her chest and legs from the rough treatment in the arena. The man's grip had left a mark just above her breasts where one arm had held her close enough for the knife to nick against her skin, the wounds on her legs just from the kicking and banging against things she had done to try to get free. It was painfully obvious against the paleness of her skin, and she swallowed back tears as the talk turned of the funeral.
She would stand with her family, perhaps returning home with them or going back to the palace, that could be decided later when Desma and guards could come collect and keep her safe. Indeed, she doubted the old slave would allow her out of her sight once she returned, but she found herself longing for a scolding from the spinster before being wrapped up in her crotchety embrace.
The knock on the door came as Olympia had lifted herself out of the bath and begun to dry herself, combing her fingers through her hair after draping the clean chiton around her. Helena's arrival was a welcome interruption from the question she had little desire to answer. How could she tell him she was as shattered emotionally as she had ever been in her life, the sight of one lover's head on a pike while the other was forced to battle his way through enemies, the sudden change in her life, why she had been snatched into the arena instead of another, All too many thoughts for her to take in right now.
"I'll be fine. One thing at a time I suppose. Helena, thank you for coming. Your majesty, Helena has been assisting me since I first discovered I was with child."
Pia was relieved for once that he seemed to have no inclination to embrace her or take her to bed at that moment. For the first time that day she was realizing how little she actually had any desire to be touched after the rough handling brush with death from earlier in the day. The warm bath he ordered was yet another relief, and she sank into the tub with a contented sigh, closing her eyes in that short moment of safety with him nearby. They would be married, and no doubt soon to secure the legitimacy of their son.
"Of course, whatever you think is safest for us. I will stay or retreat to my family home accordingly."
Rinsing the dirt and blood from her skin and hair, Olympia looked at the bruises that had been forming across her chest and legs from the rough treatment in the arena. The man's grip had left a mark just above her breasts where one arm had held her close enough for the knife to nick against her skin, the wounds on her legs just from the kicking and banging against things she had done to try to get free. It was painfully obvious against the paleness of her skin, and she swallowed back tears as the talk turned of the funeral.
She would stand with her family, perhaps returning home with them or going back to the palace, that could be decided later when Desma and guards could come collect and keep her safe. Indeed, she doubted the old slave would allow her out of her sight once she returned, but she found herself longing for a scolding from the spinster before being wrapped up in her crotchety embrace.
The knock on the door came as Olympia had lifted herself out of the bath and begun to dry herself, combing her fingers through her hair after draping the clean chiton around her. Helena's arrival was a welcome interruption from the question she had little desire to answer. How could she tell him she was as shattered emotionally as she had ever been in her life, the sight of one lover's head on a pike while the other was forced to battle his way through enemies, the sudden change in her life, why she had been snatched into the arena instead of another, All too many thoughts for her to take in right now.
"I'll be fine. One thing at a time I suppose. Helena, thank you for coming. Your majesty, Helena has been assisting me since I first discovered I was with child."
Word of the horrible event traveled quickly, breeching palace walls within a matter of hours; by the time the news finally circulated to her own ears she could hardly believe it. Surely you must be mistaken! Despite the words spilling from her lips, she could not hear it herself. A deafening tone sounded in her ears, disabling her from perceiving her own statement. All the same, the saddened, teary-eyed look upon her messenger's face was enough for her to grasp the horrendous nature of the situation. A hand came up to cover her mouth as a sob was wrenched from the depths of her throat, and she was struck by waves upon crashing waves of sorrow. It seemed as if the ghastly moan echoed throughout the halls of the palace: “The king is dead!”
Whoever had carried out the horrific act wanted to make sure that the end of the king’s reign was well known by all. The vivid description of the late King Zenon’s head impaled upon a pike was testament enough to such a notion, and the thought of His Majesty’s head and body as two separate entities made her feel absolutely nauseous. What’s worse was that by some accounts it was personally witnessed by the late king’s family members, to which Helena could only imagine the absolute horror they must have experienced. However, when she was informed that Lady Olympia had been one exposed to the heinous crimes, she had only one thought:
The baby.
Helena was rendered helpless and immobile unless she was called upon, tormented by unanswered questions while she waited. It was unclear to Helena if Lady Olympia was injured in the attack, and if she sustained such injuries, to what end. She did not know if the baby that grew within Lady Olympia’s belly was safe or if the innocent unborn had already been subject to the evils of this world. Wracked with nerves, all she could do was pace about her quarters and aid a slave while they prepared her supplies with a heavy hearts and quivering fingers. She prayed to the Gods that Olympia went unharmed.
One could not begin to imagine the relief she felt when she learned that Lady Olympia was at the very least alive. A flame of hope suddenly burned within the pit of her belly and a weight that had been crushing her chest finally lifted.
“You are called upon at the request of Lady Olympia to determine the health of her heir. You are to see to her at once, Healer.” There was not a moment to spare after the decree was made, Helena no sooner traveling towards the royal quarters with a maid carrying her supplies stumbling along behind her. Like many times before, her company was left victim to her gliding stride, her long legs rapidly carrying her to her destination. As they rounded a corner, the sudden appearance of another slave stopped her in her tracks.
“Are you her lady's midwife?” There was a slight scowl on his face as she confirmed that she was the person of question. “I ask that you hurry along now, lest you wish to anger His Majesty. You should not keep him waiting, ma’am.” Helena could feel the corners of her mouth pull into a frown, but allowed the servant to scold her. They departed together, Helena following the slave until they finally reached the royal quarters. Her heart ached with worry as the servant confirmed her name, title, and role, the guards allowing her to pass when her purpose was established. The guards looked to be on edge, much like the slave, but it was only natural after today’s events that everyone be on their best behavior.
When she first came into sight, Helena had wanted to rush over to her, kneeling by her side, taking Olympia’s hand into hers, and professing her relief as if it were a mantra. But what unbecoming behavior of a royal physician she should sooner ask to be beheaded. From the looks of it, Olympia had just seen to the bath, now adorned in a crisp, clean chiton while fat droplets formed at the tips of her damp hair. Though Helena could point out a few purpled patches of flesh peeking out from the lining of her dress, she was pleased to note that Lady Olympia seemed to be in good health.
"I'll be fine. One thing at a time I suppose. Helena, thank you for coming. Your majesty, Helena has been assisting me since I first discovered I was with child." They were not the only two in the room, she and Lady Olympia, that is, a third no sooner coming into sight as well. Helena had never seen the man before, but her mind raced back to the interaction she had with the slave in the palace halls and she considered the intimate atmosphere of the room. Helena could draw a likely conclusion of the man’s identity. After all, there were many rumors and whisperings that tended to follow the prince; words always had the life to linger no matter where one went. Her gaze glued to the ground, she bowed.
“Your Royal Highness, my name is Helena of Maliania. I am tasked to ensure that my lady and your heir remain in good health for the extent of her pregnancy. I will do everything in my power to see to this.” There was a voice in the back of her mind that reminded her that he was no longer simply the prince, but the king of Taengea. Slowly lifting her eyes from from marbled flooring to meet his gaze, she could not help but help but heed just how young he was; whereas King Zenon’s face had begun to show signs of his aging by the harsh lines in his skin, King Stephanos almost seemed fresh-faced and unblemished by comparison. Would he also lose his beauty to the unrelenting stresses of leadership? “Rest assured, Your Highness, your son is in good hands.”
Finally, Helena turned to her. “My Lady.” Despite finding her voice, it sounded strained even to her own ears. You cannot begin to imagine how relieved I am that you are alive. The statement remained unspoken as she began to speak again, “I came as quickly as I could, My Lady. You have been subject to-” Such terrors. Such atrocities.
Helena cleared her throat. “Might I examine you and the baby for injuries? I have brought all necessary supplies to treat your ailments.” She gestures toward the maid who stumbles slightly as she lays out the supplies. Helena no sooner pardons the maid and she humbly bows her head, backing out of the room before slipping out the door.
JD
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Word of the horrible event traveled quickly, breeching palace walls within a matter of hours; by the time the news finally circulated to her own ears she could hardly believe it. Surely you must be mistaken! Despite the words spilling from her lips, she could not hear it herself. A deafening tone sounded in her ears, disabling her from perceiving her own statement. All the same, the saddened, teary-eyed look upon her messenger's face was enough for her to grasp the horrendous nature of the situation. A hand came up to cover her mouth as a sob was wrenched from the depths of her throat, and she was struck by waves upon crashing waves of sorrow. It seemed as if the ghastly moan echoed throughout the halls of the palace: “The king is dead!”
Whoever had carried out the horrific act wanted to make sure that the end of the king’s reign was well known by all. The vivid description of the late King Zenon’s head impaled upon a pike was testament enough to such a notion, and the thought of His Majesty’s head and body as two separate entities made her feel absolutely nauseous. What’s worse was that by some accounts it was personally witnessed by the late king’s family members, to which Helena could only imagine the absolute horror they must have experienced. However, when she was informed that Lady Olympia had been one exposed to the heinous crimes, she had only one thought:
The baby.
Helena was rendered helpless and immobile unless she was called upon, tormented by unanswered questions while she waited. It was unclear to Helena if Lady Olympia was injured in the attack, and if she sustained such injuries, to what end. She did not know if the baby that grew within Lady Olympia’s belly was safe or if the innocent unborn had already been subject to the evils of this world. Wracked with nerves, all she could do was pace about her quarters and aid a slave while they prepared her supplies with a heavy hearts and quivering fingers. She prayed to the Gods that Olympia went unharmed.
One could not begin to imagine the relief she felt when she learned that Lady Olympia was at the very least alive. A flame of hope suddenly burned within the pit of her belly and a weight that had been crushing her chest finally lifted.
“You are called upon at the request of Lady Olympia to determine the health of her heir. You are to see to her at once, Healer.” There was not a moment to spare after the decree was made, Helena no sooner traveling towards the royal quarters with a maid carrying her supplies stumbling along behind her. Like many times before, her company was left victim to her gliding stride, her long legs rapidly carrying her to her destination. As they rounded a corner, the sudden appearance of another slave stopped her in her tracks.
“Are you her lady's midwife?” There was a slight scowl on his face as she confirmed that she was the person of question. “I ask that you hurry along now, lest you wish to anger His Majesty. You should not keep him waiting, ma’am.” Helena could feel the corners of her mouth pull into a frown, but allowed the servant to scold her. They departed together, Helena following the slave until they finally reached the royal quarters. Her heart ached with worry as the servant confirmed her name, title, and role, the guards allowing her to pass when her purpose was established. The guards looked to be on edge, much like the slave, but it was only natural after today’s events that everyone be on their best behavior.
When she first came into sight, Helena had wanted to rush over to her, kneeling by her side, taking Olympia’s hand into hers, and professing her relief as if it were a mantra. But what unbecoming behavior of a royal physician she should sooner ask to be beheaded. From the looks of it, Olympia had just seen to the bath, now adorned in a crisp, clean chiton while fat droplets formed at the tips of her damp hair. Though Helena could point out a few purpled patches of flesh peeking out from the lining of her dress, she was pleased to note that Lady Olympia seemed to be in good health.
"I'll be fine. One thing at a time I suppose. Helena, thank you for coming. Your majesty, Helena has been assisting me since I first discovered I was with child." They were not the only two in the room, she and Lady Olympia, that is, a third no sooner coming into sight as well. Helena had never seen the man before, but her mind raced back to the interaction she had with the slave in the palace halls and she considered the intimate atmosphere of the room. Helena could draw a likely conclusion of the man’s identity. After all, there were many rumors and whisperings that tended to follow the prince; words always had the life to linger no matter where one went. Her gaze glued to the ground, she bowed.
“Your Royal Highness, my name is Helena of Maliania. I am tasked to ensure that my lady and your heir remain in good health for the extent of her pregnancy. I will do everything in my power to see to this.” There was a voice in the back of her mind that reminded her that he was no longer simply the prince, but the king of Taengea. Slowly lifting her eyes from from marbled flooring to meet his gaze, she could not help but help but heed just how young he was; whereas King Zenon’s face had begun to show signs of his aging by the harsh lines in his skin, King Stephanos almost seemed fresh-faced and unblemished by comparison. Would he also lose his beauty to the unrelenting stresses of leadership? “Rest assured, Your Highness, your son is in good hands.”
Finally, Helena turned to her. “My Lady.” Despite finding her voice, it sounded strained even to her own ears. You cannot begin to imagine how relieved I am that you are alive. The statement remained unspoken as she began to speak again, “I came as quickly as I could, My Lady. You have been subject to-” Such terrors. Such atrocities.
Helena cleared her throat. “Might I examine you and the baby for injuries? I have brought all necessary supplies to treat your ailments.” She gestures toward the maid who stumbles slightly as she lays out the supplies. Helena no sooner pardons the maid and she humbly bows her head, backing out of the room before slipping out the door.
Word of the horrible event traveled quickly, breeching palace walls within a matter of hours; by the time the news finally circulated to her own ears she could hardly believe it. Surely you must be mistaken! Despite the words spilling from her lips, she could not hear it herself. A deafening tone sounded in her ears, disabling her from perceiving her own statement. All the same, the saddened, teary-eyed look upon her messenger's face was enough for her to grasp the horrendous nature of the situation. A hand came up to cover her mouth as a sob was wrenched from the depths of her throat, and she was struck by waves upon crashing waves of sorrow. It seemed as if the ghastly moan echoed throughout the halls of the palace: “The king is dead!”
Whoever had carried out the horrific act wanted to make sure that the end of the king’s reign was well known by all. The vivid description of the late King Zenon’s head impaled upon a pike was testament enough to such a notion, and the thought of His Majesty’s head and body as two separate entities made her feel absolutely nauseous. What’s worse was that by some accounts it was personally witnessed by the late king’s family members, to which Helena could only imagine the absolute horror they must have experienced. However, when she was informed that Lady Olympia had been one exposed to the heinous crimes, she had only one thought:
The baby.
Helena was rendered helpless and immobile unless she was called upon, tormented by unanswered questions while she waited. It was unclear to Helena if Lady Olympia was injured in the attack, and if she sustained such injuries, to what end. She did not know if the baby that grew within Lady Olympia’s belly was safe or if the innocent unborn had already been subject to the evils of this world. Wracked with nerves, all she could do was pace about her quarters and aid a slave while they prepared her supplies with a heavy hearts and quivering fingers. She prayed to the Gods that Olympia went unharmed.
One could not begin to imagine the relief she felt when she learned that Lady Olympia was at the very least alive. A flame of hope suddenly burned within the pit of her belly and a weight that had been crushing her chest finally lifted.
“You are called upon at the request of Lady Olympia to determine the health of her heir. You are to see to her at once, Healer.” There was not a moment to spare after the decree was made, Helena no sooner traveling towards the royal quarters with a maid carrying her supplies stumbling along behind her. Like many times before, her company was left victim to her gliding stride, her long legs rapidly carrying her to her destination. As they rounded a corner, the sudden appearance of another slave stopped her in her tracks.
“Are you her lady's midwife?” There was a slight scowl on his face as she confirmed that she was the person of question. “I ask that you hurry along now, lest you wish to anger His Majesty. You should not keep him waiting, ma’am.” Helena could feel the corners of her mouth pull into a frown, but allowed the servant to scold her. They departed together, Helena following the slave until they finally reached the royal quarters. Her heart ached with worry as the servant confirmed her name, title, and role, the guards allowing her to pass when her purpose was established. The guards looked to be on edge, much like the slave, but it was only natural after today’s events that everyone be on their best behavior.
When she first came into sight, Helena had wanted to rush over to her, kneeling by her side, taking Olympia’s hand into hers, and professing her relief as if it were a mantra. But what unbecoming behavior of a royal physician she should sooner ask to be beheaded. From the looks of it, Olympia had just seen to the bath, now adorned in a crisp, clean chiton while fat droplets formed at the tips of her damp hair. Though Helena could point out a few purpled patches of flesh peeking out from the lining of her dress, she was pleased to note that Lady Olympia seemed to be in good health.
"I'll be fine. One thing at a time I suppose. Helena, thank you for coming. Your majesty, Helena has been assisting me since I first discovered I was with child." They were not the only two in the room, she and Lady Olympia, that is, a third no sooner coming into sight as well. Helena had never seen the man before, but her mind raced back to the interaction she had with the slave in the palace halls and she considered the intimate atmosphere of the room. Helena could draw a likely conclusion of the man’s identity. After all, there were many rumors and whisperings that tended to follow the prince; words always had the life to linger no matter where one went. Her gaze glued to the ground, she bowed.
“Your Royal Highness, my name is Helena of Maliania. I am tasked to ensure that my lady and your heir remain in good health for the extent of her pregnancy. I will do everything in my power to see to this.” There was a voice in the back of her mind that reminded her that he was no longer simply the prince, but the king of Taengea. Slowly lifting her eyes from from marbled flooring to meet his gaze, she could not help but help but heed just how young he was; whereas King Zenon’s face had begun to show signs of his aging by the harsh lines in his skin, King Stephanos almost seemed fresh-faced and unblemished by comparison. Would he also lose his beauty to the unrelenting stresses of leadership? “Rest assured, Your Highness, your son is in good hands.”
Finally, Helena turned to her. “My Lady.” Despite finding her voice, it sounded strained even to her own ears. You cannot begin to imagine how relieved I am that you are alive. The statement remained unspoken as she began to speak again, “I came as quickly as I could, My Lady. You have been subject to-” Such terrors. Such atrocities.
Helena cleared her throat. “Might I examine you and the baby for injuries? I have brought all necessary supplies to treat your ailments.” She gestures toward the maid who stumbles slightly as she lays out the supplies. Helena no sooner pardons the maid and she humbly bows her head, backing out of the room before slipping out the door.
Olympia answered him as the door opened. He listened without comment as she told him she’d be fine, which he did not think was in any way true. Today had been horrifying. His gaze was on her and he only caught the door opening out of his periphery. The form of a dark haired woman made him finally drag his attention away from Pia as she introduced her midwife, Helena.
The midwife didn’t seem aware of him at first. Her dark eyes were fully on Pia. It gave him a moment to observe her but his gaze only slid down her body out of habit and nothing else. She gave the impression of being beautiful and he only had the briefest glimpse of dark brown eyes as she turned toward him before she dropped her head and bowed.
He moved closer as she launched into her own introduction and her assurances that all would be well. When she called him ‘Royal Highness,’ he did to her what he’d done to Olympia. “Your Majesty.” The correction was flat, like before. He was a prince no longer. Slowly, her gaze traveled up until they locked eyes.
Hers was a gaze he could easily have gotten lost in at any other time. Now? He was in no mood. “Your life is tied to my son’s,” he said without inflection and then his gaze traveled to Pia. “And Lady Pia’s.” It wasn’t a threat so much as a warning that everything humanly possible must be done to ensure the royal line. It didn’t matter to him if this woman was as beautiful as Aphrodite. There would be no tolerance or mercy if either mother or child died due to any negligence on the midwife’s part.
As Helena looked away from him toward Pia, he knew that she would be in good hands. He did not take back his warning. It was a good thing to have that fear in the back of her mind; it would likely drive her to try harder, knowing the alternative.
A maid hovered beside the doorway, waiting, it seemed, for Helena’s gesture to lay out the supplies. The girl gave a quick glance at himself and stumbled. He rolled his eyes and turned his back, walking out to the balcony. Behind him he could hear the two women talking.
Though his son was important, he didn’t think his presence was needed for the examination. He leaned on the wide, flat railing, eyes resting on the disgustingly pleasant glow of the city; as though it was a bed of coals to warm one’s hands by instead of homes and businesses. Thankfully most of the fires were under control but his gaze rested where he knew the Order House to be.
Stephanos sighed.
Once Pia’s examination was done, he walked back into the room, leaning on one of the columns with his arms crossed, looking Helena up and down. “How is she?” he asked, still not sporting any of his usual good humor.
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Olympia answered him as the door opened. He listened without comment as she told him she’d be fine, which he did not think was in any way true. Today had been horrifying. His gaze was on her and he only caught the door opening out of his periphery. The form of a dark haired woman made him finally drag his attention away from Pia as she introduced her midwife, Helena.
The midwife didn’t seem aware of him at first. Her dark eyes were fully on Pia. It gave him a moment to observe her but his gaze only slid down her body out of habit and nothing else. She gave the impression of being beautiful and he only had the briefest glimpse of dark brown eyes as she turned toward him before she dropped her head and bowed.
He moved closer as she launched into her own introduction and her assurances that all would be well. When she called him ‘Royal Highness,’ he did to her what he’d done to Olympia. “Your Majesty.” The correction was flat, like before. He was a prince no longer. Slowly, her gaze traveled up until they locked eyes.
Hers was a gaze he could easily have gotten lost in at any other time. Now? He was in no mood. “Your life is tied to my son’s,” he said without inflection and then his gaze traveled to Pia. “And Lady Pia’s.” It wasn’t a threat so much as a warning that everything humanly possible must be done to ensure the royal line. It didn’t matter to him if this woman was as beautiful as Aphrodite. There would be no tolerance or mercy if either mother or child died due to any negligence on the midwife’s part.
As Helena looked away from him toward Pia, he knew that she would be in good hands. He did not take back his warning. It was a good thing to have that fear in the back of her mind; it would likely drive her to try harder, knowing the alternative.
A maid hovered beside the doorway, waiting, it seemed, for Helena’s gesture to lay out the supplies. The girl gave a quick glance at himself and stumbled. He rolled his eyes and turned his back, walking out to the balcony. Behind him he could hear the two women talking.
Though his son was important, he didn’t think his presence was needed for the examination. He leaned on the wide, flat railing, eyes resting on the disgustingly pleasant glow of the city; as though it was a bed of coals to warm one’s hands by instead of homes and businesses. Thankfully most of the fires were under control but his gaze rested where he knew the Order House to be.
Stephanos sighed.
Once Pia’s examination was done, he walked back into the room, leaning on one of the columns with his arms crossed, looking Helena up and down. “How is she?” he asked, still not sporting any of his usual good humor.
Olympia answered him as the door opened. He listened without comment as she told him she’d be fine, which he did not think was in any way true. Today had been horrifying. His gaze was on her and he only caught the door opening out of his periphery. The form of a dark haired woman made him finally drag his attention away from Pia as she introduced her midwife, Helena.
The midwife didn’t seem aware of him at first. Her dark eyes were fully on Pia. It gave him a moment to observe her but his gaze only slid down her body out of habit and nothing else. She gave the impression of being beautiful and he only had the briefest glimpse of dark brown eyes as she turned toward him before she dropped her head and bowed.
He moved closer as she launched into her own introduction and her assurances that all would be well. When she called him ‘Royal Highness,’ he did to her what he’d done to Olympia. “Your Majesty.” The correction was flat, like before. He was a prince no longer. Slowly, her gaze traveled up until they locked eyes.
Hers was a gaze he could easily have gotten lost in at any other time. Now? He was in no mood. “Your life is tied to my son’s,” he said without inflection and then his gaze traveled to Pia. “And Lady Pia’s.” It wasn’t a threat so much as a warning that everything humanly possible must be done to ensure the royal line. It didn’t matter to him if this woman was as beautiful as Aphrodite. There would be no tolerance or mercy if either mother or child died due to any negligence on the midwife’s part.
As Helena looked away from him toward Pia, he knew that she would be in good hands. He did not take back his warning. It was a good thing to have that fear in the back of her mind; it would likely drive her to try harder, knowing the alternative.
A maid hovered beside the doorway, waiting, it seemed, for Helena’s gesture to lay out the supplies. The girl gave a quick glance at himself and stumbled. He rolled his eyes and turned his back, walking out to the balcony. Behind him he could hear the two women talking.
Though his son was important, he didn’t think his presence was needed for the examination. He leaned on the wide, flat railing, eyes resting on the disgustingly pleasant glow of the city; as though it was a bed of coals to warm one’s hands by instead of homes and businesses. Thankfully most of the fires were under control but his gaze rested where he knew the Order House to be.
Stephanos sighed.
Once Pia’s examination was done, he walked back into the room, leaning on one of the columns with his arms crossed, looking Helena up and down. “How is she?” he asked, still not sporting any of his usual good humor.
"Yes, of course."
Olympia gave a small smile to her friend and nodded at her request. She feared what discovery might be made, the pains from earlier in the day flashing back and she bit on her lower lip as Stephanos spoke. After everything he had been through, the last thing she wanted to discover was that their son had died or been injured in some way. But that would all come with time, and she would deal with whatever the fall out was.
She opened her mouth to speak at his words, flushing instead as he included her in the threat. It was only for show, and only because she was with child. If it had just been herself as she usually was, with no child between them, he wouldn't have given her the time or consideration he had been so far and she wasn't going to take this moment for granted. Reaching out, she took Helena's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze, trying to smile through the anxiety and pain of the day and gesturing to her stomach.
"I have felt him move since we returned, indeed he seems to have wanted to go fight with his father earlier."
Her smile faltered at the thought of her son fighting in the future. Certainly it was in his blood and his right, as a future prince of Taengea, but the thought of her son or any child having to deal with the chaos that had ripped their city apart today made her heart ache and she squeezed the healer's hand even more. Watching Stephanos walk out to the balcony allowed her to drop some of the facade, the confidence draining away as she slowly moved to the bed to sit, hands wrapping around her middle.
"What if something is wrong? I felt pains earlier, that couldn't mean...is my baby still alive Helena?"
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"Yes, of course."
Olympia gave a small smile to her friend and nodded at her request. She feared what discovery might be made, the pains from earlier in the day flashing back and she bit on her lower lip as Stephanos spoke. After everything he had been through, the last thing she wanted to discover was that their son had died or been injured in some way. But that would all come with time, and she would deal with whatever the fall out was.
She opened her mouth to speak at his words, flushing instead as he included her in the threat. It was only for show, and only because she was with child. If it had just been herself as she usually was, with no child between them, he wouldn't have given her the time or consideration he had been so far and she wasn't going to take this moment for granted. Reaching out, she took Helena's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze, trying to smile through the anxiety and pain of the day and gesturing to her stomach.
"I have felt him move since we returned, indeed he seems to have wanted to go fight with his father earlier."
Her smile faltered at the thought of her son fighting in the future. Certainly it was in his blood and his right, as a future prince of Taengea, but the thought of her son or any child having to deal with the chaos that had ripped their city apart today made her heart ache and she squeezed the healer's hand even more. Watching Stephanos walk out to the balcony allowed her to drop some of the facade, the confidence draining away as she slowly moved to the bed to sit, hands wrapping around her middle.
"What if something is wrong? I felt pains earlier, that couldn't mean...is my baby still alive Helena?"
"Yes, of course."
Olympia gave a small smile to her friend and nodded at her request. She feared what discovery might be made, the pains from earlier in the day flashing back and she bit on her lower lip as Stephanos spoke. After everything he had been through, the last thing she wanted to discover was that their son had died or been injured in some way. But that would all come with time, and she would deal with whatever the fall out was.
She opened her mouth to speak at his words, flushing instead as he included her in the threat. It was only for show, and only because she was with child. If it had just been herself as she usually was, with no child between them, he wouldn't have given her the time or consideration he had been so far and she wasn't going to take this moment for granted. Reaching out, she took Helena's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze, trying to smile through the anxiety and pain of the day and gesturing to her stomach.
"I have felt him move since we returned, indeed he seems to have wanted to go fight with his father earlier."
Her smile faltered at the thought of her son fighting in the future. Certainly it was in his blood and his right, as a future prince of Taengea, but the thought of her son or any child having to deal with the chaos that had ripped their city apart today made her heart ache and she squeezed the healer's hand even more. Watching Stephanos walk out to the balcony allowed her to drop some of the facade, the confidence draining away as she slowly moved to the bed to sit, hands wrapping around her middle.
"What if something is wrong? I felt pains earlier, that couldn't mean...is my baby still alive Helena?"
Admittedly, Stephanos had taken her by surprise. The rumours surrounding the prince were not particularly heinous in nature, but they attributed the man to be one invested in earthly pleasures and self-indulgence. Helena was of the understanding that despite having the hearts of the people, likely winning the population over with enough amiability and a charming smile, the prince was something of a rake. She was aware that consequence is rarely felt by those of status and perhaps she had expected him to act upon on his significance.
The man who spoke to her was neither rambunctious nor ill-mannered. The seriousness of his tone illustrated his earnest sobriety; when he corrected her of his title she could only nod, suppressing the instinct to raise her brows. “I would not have it any other way, Your Majesty.” Helena responded to his ominous comment.
She had long since familiarized herself with the grave position she was in, caring for wellbeing of a royal heir, and Helena was aware that her life was as much in the hands of Olympia as hers was in Helena’s. However, in the weeks that she had spent with Olympia, being by her side and caring for her, Helena had unexpectedly grew a certain fondness for her ladyship. She desired Olympia’s safety and comfort above all. Should Olympia or her child succumb to the whims of death, Helena would accept punishment with silent resolution.
Olympia had taken Helena’s hand into her own and given it a reassuring squeeze, but it wasn’t until the prince had exited the room to give the women privacy that Lady Olympia’s features finally morphed into a look of worry. Helena frowned as Olympia questioned the health of her child. “These pains… could you describe them for me? Were they sharp and sudden, or rising and constant?” She asked, immediately getting to her work of evaluating Lady Olympia’s wellbeing.
Helena began by performing their usual routine; it was brief, but thorough, and required Helena’s hands to explore Olympia’s body while asking her a series of questions. Olympia was no sooner nearing what the books describe to be the second stage of her pregnancy, the pica, and Helena was keeping a close eye on Lady Olympia’s diet and exercise. By the teachings of Soranus she advised Olympia to avoid excess of food, drink, activity, and emotion to ease the burden of pregnancy. Today’s excitement could put the baby at risk.
Finally, Helena’s hands found themselves on the bare, bulbous protrusion of Olympia’s stomach. Fingertips glazed in a light coating of fresh olive oil, they skirted about her womb, only stopping when the midwife would apply a light pressure upon particular areas. A smile graced her face when she could feel the baby respond to her touches, but her brow furrows slightly at a small peculiarity. Nevertheless, Helena did not want to worry Lady Olympia any more than she already was, and it was likely that the infant was simply in an odd position. She beams at her, “Rest assured, My Lady, His Highness is as strong as ever.” Helena teases, “He is your son after all. Still, I would advise you to stay away from unnecessary excitement. The stress is not good for you, nor the baby.”
Helena ordered Lady Olympia to redress as she wiped her fingers on a clean cloth. Helena was explaining to Olympia that they would soon begin to wrap her stomach in linen bandages to aid her in holding up the excess weight. When it came time for Olympia to give birth, they would cease the wrapping to encourage labour. It was at this point that Prince Stephanos returned to the room and bluntly inquired about her findings, to which she gave him what she hoped to be a comforting smile.
“The baby is in good health, Your Majesty. I am in good faith that he is as strong as a bull.” The fond inflection in her tone melted away as she began to spoke seriously. “However, I request that Lady Olympia be restricted to bed rest for the coming days. If she is exposed to further anxiety it will cause her body to be unbalanced and it could be harmful for His Highness. I have additionally prescribed her an herbal remedy to help her sleep, with extra should you desire it, and salve for her bruises.”
JD
Staff Team
JD
Staff Team
This post was created by our staff team.
Please contact us with your queries and questions.
Admittedly, Stephanos had taken her by surprise. The rumours surrounding the prince were not particularly heinous in nature, but they attributed the man to be one invested in earthly pleasures and self-indulgence. Helena was of the understanding that despite having the hearts of the people, likely winning the population over with enough amiability and a charming smile, the prince was something of a rake. She was aware that consequence is rarely felt by those of status and perhaps she had expected him to act upon on his significance.
The man who spoke to her was neither rambunctious nor ill-mannered. The seriousness of his tone illustrated his earnest sobriety; when he corrected her of his title she could only nod, suppressing the instinct to raise her brows. “I would not have it any other way, Your Majesty.” Helena responded to his ominous comment.
She had long since familiarized herself with the grave position she was in, caring for wellbeing of a royal heir, and Helena was aware that her life was as much in the hands of Olympia as hers was in Helena’s. However, in the weeks that she had spent with Olympia, being by her side and caring for her, Helena had unexpectedly grew a certain fondness for her ladyship. She desired Olympia’s safety and comfort above all. Should Olympia or her child succumb to the whims of death, Helena would accept punishment with silent resolution.
Olympia had taken Helena’s hand into her own and given it a reassuring squeeze, but it wasn’t until the prince had exited the room to give the women privacy that Lady Olympia’s features finally morphed into a look of worry. Helena frowned as Olympia questioned the health of her child. “These pains… could you describe them for me? Were they sharp and sudden, or rising and constant?” She asked, immediately getting to her work of evaluating Lady Olympia’s wellbeing.
Helena began by performing their usual routine; it was brief, but thorough, and required Helena’s hands to explore Olympia’s body while asking her a series of questions. Olympia was no sooner nearing what the books describe to be the second stage of her pregnancy, the pica, and Helena was keeping a close eye on Lady Olympia’s diet and exercise. By the teachings of Soranus she advised Olympia to avoid excess of food, drink, activity, and emotion to ease the burden of pregnancy. Today’s excitement could put the baby at risk.
Finally, Helena’s hands found themselves on the bare, bulbous protrusion of Olympia’s stomach. Fingertips glazed in a light coating of fresh olive oil, they skirted about her womb, only stopping when the midwife would apply a light pressure upon particular areas. A smile graced her face when she could feel the baby respond to her touches, but her brow furrows slightly at a small peculiarity. Nevertheless, Helena did not want to worry Lady Olympia any more than she already was, and it was likely that the infant was simply in an odd position. She beams at her, “Rest assured, My Lady, His Highness is as strong as ever.” Helena teases, “He is your son after all. Still, I would advise you to stay away from unnecessary excitement. The stress is not good for you, nor the baby.”
Helena ordered Lady Olympia to redress as she wiped her fingers on a clean cloth. Helena was explaining to Olympia that they would soon begin to wrap her stomach in linen bandages to aid her in holding up the excess weight. When it came time for Olympia to give birth, they would cease the wrapping to encourage labour. It was at this point that Prince Stephanos returned to the room and bluntly inquired about her findings, to which she gave him what she hoped to be a comforting smile.
“The baby is in good health, Your Majesty. I am in good faith that he is as strong as a bull.” The fond inflection in her tone melted away as she began to spoke seriously. “However, I request that Lady Olympia be restricted to bed rest for the coming days. If she is exposed to further anxiety it will cause her body to be unbalanced and it could be harmful for His Highness. I have additionally prescribed her an herbal remedy to help her sleep, with extra should you desire it, and salve for her bruises.”
Admittedly, Stephanos had taken her by surprise. The rumours surrounding the prince were not particularly heinous in nature, but they attributed the man to be one invested in earthly pleasures and self-indulgence. Helena was of the understanding that despite having the hearts of the people, likely winning the population over with enough amiability and a charming smile, the prince was something of a rake. She was aware that consequence is rarely felt by those of status and perhaps she had expected him to act upon on his significance.
The man who spoke to her was neither rambunctious nor ill-mannered. The seriousness of his tone illustrated his earnest sobriety; when he corrected her of his title she could only nod, suppressing the instinct to raise her brows. “I would not have it any other way, Your Majesty.” Helena responded to his ominous comment.
She had long since familiarized herself with the grave position she was in, caring for wellbeing of a royal heir, and Helena was aware that her life was as much in the hands of Olympia as hers was in Helena’s. However, in the weeks that she had spent with Olympia, being by her side and caring for her, Helena had unexpectedly grew a certain fondness for her ladyship. She desired Olympia’s safety and comfort above all. Should Olympia or her child succumb to the whims of death, Helena would accept punishment with silent resolution.
Olympia had taken Helena’s hand into her own and given it a reassuring squeeze, but it wasn’t until the prince had exited the room to give the women privacy that Lady Olympia’s features finally morphed into a look of worry. Helena frowned as Olympia questioned the health of her child. “These pains… could you describe them for me? Were they sharp and sudden, or rising and constant?” She asked, immediately getting to her work of evaluating Lady Olympia’s wellbeing.
Helena began by performing their usual routine; it was brief, but thorough, and required Helena’s hands to explore Olympia’s body while asking her a series of questions. Olympia was no sooner nearing what the books describe to be the second stage of her pregnancy, the pica, and Helena was keeping a close eye on Lady Olympia’s diet and exercise. By the teachings of Soranus she advised Olympia to avoid excess of food, drink, activity, and emotion to ease the burden of pregnancy. Today’s excitement could put the baby at risk.
Finally, Helena’s hands found themselves on the bare, bulbous protrusion of Olympia’s stomach. Fingertips glazed in a light coating of fresh olive oil, they skirted about her womb, only stopping when the midwife would apply a light pressure upon particular areas. A smile graced her face when she could feel the baby respond to her touches, but her brow furrows slightly at a small peculiarity. Nevertheless, Helena did not want to worry Lady Olympia any more than she already was, and it was likely that the infant was simply in an odd position. She beams at her, “Rest assured, My Lady, His Highness is as strong as ever.” Helena teases, “He is your son after all. Still, I would advise you to stay away from unnecessary excitement. The stress is not good for you, nor the baby.”
Helena ordered Lady Olympia to redress as she wiped her fingers on a clean cloth. Helena was explaining to Olympia that they would soon begin to wrap her stomach in linen bandages to aid her in holding up the excess weight. When it came time for Olympia to give birth, they would cease the wrapping to encourage labour. It was at this point that Prince Stephanos returned to the room and bluntly inquired about her findings, to which she gave him what she hoped to be a comforting smile.
“The baby is in good health, Your Majesty. I am in good faith that he is as strong as a bull.” The fond inflection in her tone melted away as she began to spoke seriously. “However, I request that Lady Olympia be restricted to bed rest for the coming days. If she is exposed to further anxiety it will cause her body to be unbalanced and it could be harmful for His Highness. I have additionally prescribed her an herbal remedy to help her sleep, with extra should you desire it, and salve for her bruises.”
At Helena’s smile, his shoulders sagged in relief. At least that hadn’t gone wrong. He smirked at the bull comment but it faded as the midwife advised bed rest.
“Bed rest?” he echoed as though the notion was entirely foreign. A few women of his acquaintance had to be restricted but most women strutted around right up until the birth. The servants did, at least. His knowledge of childbearing was limited, however. He glanced at Pia. She looked strong enough to him. Frowning, he eyed Helena again.
“The king’s funeral is in a few hours. Surely the walk through the city won’t be harmful?”
For some reason, he could not abide the thought that his future queen, and, by proxy his son, would not see off his father. His sudden concern for her stemmed less from affection as from a need to keep up appearances. Especially considering the announcement he would need to make in the coming days. Everything he did and said, everything she did and said mattered now.
Word would spread later if she wasn’t there, wasn’t seen as ‘supportive’.
Again his good humor was crushed beneath alien anxiety. These were worries and fears he’d always thought of as abstract; for other people, things his brother had tried to drill into him. He’d only half paid attention. Now he tried to recall every word, to act like a king, act the way his father would have expected Zacharias to be.
His mouth went dry.
“Walking doesn’t kill babies,” he said with finality as though he could bend reality to his will. Who knew? Perhaps he could. If he wanted something badly enough, he always got it in the end.
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At Helena’s smile, his shoulders sagged in relief. At least that hadn’t gone wrong. He smirked at the bull comment but it faded as the midwife advised bed rest.
“Bed rest?” he echoed as though the notion was entirely foreign. A few women of his acquaintance had to be restricted but most women strutted around right up until the birth. The servants did, at least. His knowledge of childbearing was limited, however. He glanced at Pia. She looked strong enough to him. Frowning, he eyed Helena again.
“The king’s funeral is in a few hours. Surely the walk through the city won’t be harmful?”
For some reason, he could not abide the thought that his future queen, and, by proxy his son, would not see off his father. His sudden concern for her stemmed less from affection as from a need to keep up appearances. Especially considering the announcement he would need to make in the coming days. Everything he did and said, everything she did and said mattered now.
Word would spread later if she wasn’t there, wasn’t seen as ‘supportive’.
Again his good humor was crushed beneath alien anxiety. These were worries and fears he’d always thought of as abstract; for other people, things his brother had tried to drill into him. He’d only half paid attention. Now he tried to recall every word, to act like a king, act the way his father would have expected Zacharias to be.
His mouth went dry.
“Walking doesn’t kill babies,” he said with finality as though he could bend reality to his will. Who knew? Perhaps he could. If he wanted something badly enough, he always got it in the end.
At Helena’s smile, his shoulders sagged in relief. At least that hadn’t gone wrong. He smirked at the bull comment but it faded as the midwife advised bed rest.
“Bed rest?” he echoed as though the notion was entirely foreign. A few women of his acquaintance had to be restricted but most women strutted around right up until the birth. The servants did, at least. His knowledge of childbearing was limited, however. He glanced at Pia. She looked strong enough to him. Frowning, he eyed Helena again.
“The king’s funeral is in a few hours. Surely the walk through the city won’t be harmful?”
For some reason, he could not abide the thought that his future queen, and, by proxy his son, would not see off his father. His sudden concern for her stemmed less from affection as from a need to keep up appearances. Especially considering the announcement he would need to make in the coming days. Everything he did and said, everything she did and said mattered now.
Word would spread later if she wasn’t there, wasn’t seen as ‘supportive’.
Again his good humor was crushed beneath alien anxiety. These were worries and fears he’d always thought of as abstract; for other people, things his brother had tried to drill into him. He’d only half paid attention. Now he tried to recall every word, to act like a king, act the way his father would have expected Zacharias to be.
His mouth went dry.
“Walking doesn’t kill babies,” he said with finality as though he could bend reality to his will. Who knew? Perhaps he could. If he wanted something badly enough, he always got it in the end.
”Rising, and constant for a while. Like I was about to begin the moon cycle again after five months without.”
Pia gave a bitter laugh, laying back and covering her face as if that would protect her from any bad news Helena had to deliver. The pain had mostly subsided, only little flutters gave any sort of indication of the status of the little one, and she almost laughed in relief as she felt a slight shift during the midwife’s prodding. Her son was alive at the very least, and for the first time since the ordeal in the arena Olympia allowed herself to cry. They were silent tears but the relief they brought her was overwhelming.
She managed to answer the rest of the questions, keeping her eyes closed and missing the frown that would have sent her on a spiral of panic. The declaration that all was well brought a sigh of relief from her lips and she slowly pushed herself up into a sitting position, drawing the chiton down to cover herself completely and shrinking back against the bed slightly, beyond exhaustion kicking in. Wiping the tears from her face she tried to put on a brave expression as Stephanos returned.
Watching his moods flit across his face at Helena’s assessment, she felt pride and relief along with him all over again. Any of that vanished quickly as he frowned and she slid her legs from the bed, standing to cross to him with one hand still resting on her womb. She reached out to touch his arm gently, a reassurance that on this day she would be there and his son would see his grandfather laid to rest.
”I can walk. Can’t I, Helena? It’s not so long, and Desma can help me. I’ll go straight to my bed after it’s done. Resting in my family home until Your Majesty choses to bring us to the palace and make the news public.”
A walk couldn’t kill their son, not in such a short span of time, surely.
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”Rising, and constant for a while. Like I was about to begin the moon cycle again after five months without.”
Pia gave a bitter laugh, laying back and covering her face as if that would protect her from any bad news Helena had to deliver. The pain had mostly subsided, only little flutters gave any sort of indication of the status of the little one, and she almost laughed in relief as she felt a slight shift during the midwife’s prodding. Her son was alive at the very least, and for the first time since the ordeal in the arena Olympia allowed herself to cry. They were silent tears but the relief they brought her was overwhelming.
She managed to answer the rest of the questions, keeping her eyes closed and missing the frown that would have sent her on a spiral of panic. The declaration that all was well brought a sigh of relief from her lips and she slowly pushed herself up into a sitting position, drawing the chiton down to cover herself completely and shrinking back against the bed slightly, beyond exhaustion kicking in. Wiping the tears from her face she tried to put on a brave expression as Stephanos returned.
Watching his moods flit across his face at Helena’s assessment, she felt pride and relief along with him all over again. Any of that vanished quickly as he frowned and she slid her legs from the bed, standing to cross to him with one hand still resting on her womb. She reached out to touch his arm gently, a reassurance that on this day she would be there and his son would see his grandfather laid to rest.
”I can walk. Can’t I, Helena? It’s not so long, and Desma can help me. I’ll go straight to my bed after it’s done. Resting in my family home until Your Majesty choses to bring us to the palace and make the news public.”
A walk couldn’t kill their son, not in such a short span of time, surely.
”Rising, and constant for a while. Like I was about to begin the moon cycle again after five months without.”
Pia gave a bitter laugh, laying back and covering her face as if that would protect her from any bad news Helena had to deliver. The pain had mostly subsided, only little flutters gave any sort of indication of the status of the little one, and she almost laughed in relief as she felt a slight shift during the midwife’s prodding. Her son was alive at the very least, and for the first time since the ordeal in the arena Olympia allowed herself to cry. They were silent tears but the relief they brought her was overwhelming.
She managed to answer the rest of the questions, keeping her eyes closed and missing the frown that would have sent her on a spiral of panic. The declaration that all was well brought a sigh of relief from her lips and she slowly pushed herself up into a sitting position, drawing the chiton down to cover herself completely and shrinking back against the bed slightly, beyond exhaustion kicking in. Wiping the tears from her face she tried to put on a brave expression as Stephanos returned.
Watching his moods flit across his face at Helena’s assessment, she felt pride and relief along with him all over again. Any of that vanished quickly as he frowned and she slid her legs from the bed, standing to cross to him with one hand still resting on her womb. She reached out to touch his arm gently, a reassurance that on this day she would be there and his son would see his grandfather laid to rest.
”I can walk. Can’t I, Helena? It’s not so long, and Desma can help me. I’ll go straight to my bed after it’s done. Resting in my family home until Your Majesty choses to bring us to the palace and make the news public.”
A walk couldn’t kill their son, not in such a short span of time, surely.
Prince Stephanos would not know of the tears Olympia shed, nor would he understand the ebb and flow of motherhood. Though Helena hadn’t bore any children of her own, and she doubted she would for the remainder of her life, she empathised with Olympia’s woes. Pregnancy was especially frightening for first time mothers. No amount of verbal guidance could prepare a woman for the changes her body and mind may undertake; she and her child were connected in a way a man simply could not comprehend. In this regard, Helena could not cast blame toward the prince.
Still, the prince continued to be full of surprises, as he looked astounded at her request that Lady Olympia be restricted to the confines of her bed. Helena quickly attempted to clarify her dictum, “It would only be for two… three days at most, Your Majesty. She simply needs the rest to regain her strength.” However, Prince Stephanos soon reminded her of the proceeding of the late king’s funeral, and Helena could begin to make sense of his urgency.
She paused for a beat before speaking again, this time with hesitance, “No, Your Majesty, walking does not kill babies. You are… correct in that assumption.”
Helena stared at him while biting her tongue. It was not her place to be so bold as to deny him of his wishes. Speaking against him was an open plea for punishment, and Helena was a stranger to the inner workings of royal proceedings, but it seemed to her that there was a blatant disregard for Olympia’s struggles. As Olympia laid a hand on Stephanos’ arm to calm him and negotiated the state of affairs, Helena could only deflate. “Though I believe it to be in Olympia’s best interest that she rest, I will not dispute your wishes.” Her gaze flitted gaze flitted between the pair, stopping upon Olympia. “If you so desire to go, My Lady, then I offer you my services. I may remain by your side for the extent of the funeral should you permit me to do so.”
“I give myself wholly to the safety and care of your child.” Helena replied honestly. She looked back at Stephanos, and though the words were unspoken, her eyes challenged him. And I should hope you do as well.
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Prince Stephanos would not know of the tears Olympia shed, nor would he understand the ebb and flow of motherhood. Though Helena hadn’t bore any children of her own, and she doubted she would for the remainder of her life, she empathised with Olympia’s woes. Pregnancy was especially frightening for first time mothers. No amount of verbal guidance could prepare a woman for the changes her body and mind may undertake; she and her child were connected in a way a man simply could not comprehend. In this regard, Helena could not cast blame toward the prince.
Still, the prince continued to be full of surprises, as he looked astounded at her request that Lady Olympia be restricted to the confines of her bed. Helena quickly attempted to clarify her dictum, “It would only be for two… three days at most, Your Majesty. She simply needs the rest to regain her strength.” However, Prince Stephanos soon reminded her of the proceeding of the late king’s funeral, and Helena could begin to make sense of his urgency.
She paused for a beat before speaking again, this time with hesitance, “No, Your Majesty, walking does not kill babies. You are… correct in that assumption.”
Helena stared at him while biting her tongue. It was not her place to be so bold as to deny him of his wishes. Speaking against him was an open plea for punishment, and Helena was a stranger to the inner workings of royal proceedings, but it seemed to her that there was a blatant disregard for Olympia’s struggles. As Olympia laid a hand on Stephanos’ arm to calm him and negotiated the state of affairs, Helena could only deflate. “Though I believe it to be in Olympia’s best interest that she rest, I will not dispute your wishes.” Her gaze flitted gaze flitted between the pair, stopping upon Olympia. “If you so desire to go, My Lady, then I offer you my services. I may remain by your side for the extent of the funeral should you permit me to do so.”
“I give myself wholly to the safety and care of your child.” Helena replied honestly. She looked back at Stephanos, and though the words were unspoken, her eyes challenged him. And I should hope you do as well.
Prince Stephanos would not know of the tears Olympia shed, nor would he understand the ebb and flow of motherhood. Though Helena hadn’t bore any children of her own, and she doubted she would for the remainder of her life, she empathised with Olympia’s woes. Pregnancy was especially frightening for first time mothers. No amount of verbal guidance could prepare a woman for the changes her body and mind may undertake; she and her child were connected in a way a man simply could not comprehend. In this regard, Helena could not cast blame toward the prince.
Still, the prince continued to be full of surprises, as he looked astounded at her request that Lady Olympia be restricted to the confines of her bed. Helena quickly attempted to clarify her dictum, “It would only be for two… three days at most, Your Majesty. She simply needs the rest to regain her strength.” However, Prince Stephanos soon reminded her of the proceeding of the late king’s funeral, and Helena could begin to make sense of his urgency.
She paused for a beat before speaking again, this time with hesitance, “No, Your Majesty, walking does not kill babies. You are… correct in that assumption.”
Helena stared at him while biting her tongue. It was not her place to be so bold as to deny him of his wishes. Speaking against him was an open plea for punishment, and Helena was a stranger to the inner workings of royal proceedings, but it seemed to her that there was a blatant disregard for Olympia’s struggles. As Olympia laid a hand on Stephanos’ arm to calm him and negotiated the state of affairs, Helena could only deflate. “Though I believe it to be in Olympia’s best interest that she rest, I will not dispute your wishes.” Her gaze flitted gaze flitted between the pair, stopping upon Olympia. “If you so desire to go, My Lady, then I offer you my services. I may remain by your side for the extent of the funeral should you permit me to do so.”
“I give myself wholly to the safety and care of your child.” Helena replied honestly. She looked back at Stephanos, and though the words were unspoken, her eyes challenged him. And I should hope you do as well.
Helena's response and the way she handled Stephanos with such ease brought a small smile to Pia's lips and she gave the woman a grateful glance, keeping her hand on her fiance's arm. They would get through this, somehow, and Helena was her key to providing the suddenly barren throne with an heir, or more. She nodded to the offer of walking with her during the funeral, it would be nothing to add one more person to the clutch of Leventis in mourning, she would be nowhere prominent after all.
"Thank you, Helena. I appreciate your care and loyalty. Now then, we only have a few hours, we ought to rest."
It was as gentle a dismissal as she could manage, and after the midwife took her leave with a promise to meet her tomorrow Pia moved to the bed with Stephanos, lying beside him as they wound their arms around one another tightly. As she gently brushed her fingers through his blonde locks she found herself wondering if their son would be blonde like his father or take after her own dark haired family. It didn't last long before they were both asleep, clinging to each other for what little comfort and security they could find.
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Helena's response and the way she handled Stephanos with such ease brought a small smile to Pia's lips and she gave the woman a grateful glance, keeping her hand on her fiance's arm. They would get through this, somehow, and Helena was her key to providing the suddenly barren throne with an heir, or more. She nodded to the offer of walking with her during the funeral, it would be nothing to add one more person to the clutch of Leventis in mourning, she would be nowhere prominent after all.
"Thank you, Helena. I appreciate your care and loyalty. Now then, we only have a few hours, we ought to rest."
It was as gentle a dismissal as she could manage, and after the midwife took her leave with a promise to meet her tomorrow Pia moved to the bed with Stephanos, lying beside him as they wound their arms around one another tightly. As she gently brushed her fingers through his blonde locks she found herself wondering if their son would be blonde like his father or take after her own dark haired family. It didn't last long before they were both asleep, clinging to each other for what little comfort and security they could find.
Helena's response and the way she handled Stephanos with such ease brought a small smile to Pia's lips and she gave the woman a grateful glance, keeping her hand on her fiance's arm. They would get through this, somehow, and Helena was her key to providing the suddenly barren throne with an heir, or more. She nodded to the offer of walking with her during the funeral, it would be nothing to add one more person to the clutch of Leventis in mourning, she would be nowhere prominent after all.
"Thank you, Helena. I appreciate your care and loyalty. Now then, we only have a few hours, we ought to rest."
It was as gentle a dismissal as she could manage, and after the midwife took her leave with a promise to meet her tomorrow Pia moved to the bed with Stephanos, lying beside him as they wound their arms around one another tightly. As she gently brushed her fingers through his blonde locks she found herself wondering if their son would be blonde like his father or take after her own dark haired family. It didn't last long before they were both asleep, clinging to each other for what little comfort and security they could find.
