Truth be told, Elias wasn't always the biggest fan of gladiator fights. They were.. barbaric. And he really didn't appreciate the sight of half naked men going at one another with weapons. He couldn't even quite understand why others seemed to revel in the events as much as they did. The chants and the cheers. None of it made sense to him. Not that it mattered. There were expectations to be upheld and he was to be there to see such things. Especially if he was to win over the Senate and see to it that no laws were changed. The very idea of the throne going to a woman over him set his nerves on edge.

Anger seemed to constantly be bubbling just under the surface since he'd caught wind of the proposed changes to be made. His uncle was betraying him in a way he'd never thought he'd see or feel. It was absurd to think that a woman could do the job better than a man, especially in regards to him. A woman, quite frankly, would be eaten alive. He was sure of that. Clearly, his uncle's illness had addled his brain as well if he truly thought such a thing was best for Athenia.

It was with such thoughts and anger he was getting dressed for the event. An elegant crimson chiton was draped over his body with crisp golden accents, all in honor of Stravos colors. He knew he cut a rather impressive figure in such finery, knew he was a sight to behold. Women were truly grateful should he decide to grace them with an ounce of his attention. But none could truly hold a candle to his one true love: himself. With a wave of a hand, servants were dismissed and he went about his business before it was time to actually head to the coliseum. There wasn't a lot of time left before he was to be expected there, however, so he soon found himself upon his own horse and making his way down to said event.

Elias casually picked his way through those who had already gathered for the event and eventually sauntered his way up to the Stravos box, situated right next to the royals' box. His family's own banner hung in front of it, his chiton matching the crimson hue perfectly as both fluttered just enough in the breeze. He came to stand at the front of it, the first of his family to be there. Whether the others would show, he wasn't sure, but he hardly cared. He set a good enough example and appearance for those of Athenia as she stood, hands resting on the ledge so he could look down to the pit where the gladiators would battle it out. Pristine dark curls that framed his face danced just right in the faint breeze as he turned to look at his cousins and uncle in the box next to him. Dark eyes were narrowed at the sight of Perhsephone standing in the front of the box with a man. He looked over just as he watched the man place a hand over her own on his forearm. Those dark eyes flashed with anger in a quick moment.

He was quick to look away after those his hands tightened on the railing he stood in front of. Knuckles white with pressure, he glared out at the gladiators doing their own thing. His lips twisted into something of a snarl as he watched. Perhaps he could learn to enjoy watching two full grown men bash their brains in after all.

As a man who’d been trained to fight and to protect others, Nic was while not hard, at least harder, or more used to violence, both meting it out as well as being on the receiving end. He bore a scar on his abdomen, and would until the day he died, which all the gods and goddesses willing would be many, many years from this day.

Nic sent her a quick, reassuring smile, his hand warm and steady atop hers, trying to instill confidence in her. She was strong, he’d seen that in the way she hadn’t fallen apart even when surrounded by chaos, destruction and death. All she needed was a tiny little reminder, which he was more than happy to give her.

If he’d known what thoughts had been passing through Selene’s mind, Nic would have been hard pressed from laughing rather than being offended by the just a guard bit. His primary focus of course had been and would always be ensure the safety of his princess. But he was a good man, raised to revere women, so there was no way he’d have abandoned Selene or her family that day at the circus.

Nic kept his steps slow, matching his pace to hers as they climbed up to the royal box. He dropped his arm when she moved to take her seat, sending one last grin her way before making his way over to where Emilia sat with her father and older sister. Pausing briefly to whisper in the ear of one of the extra guards on loan from the paláti. As Nic took his position, the other guard climbed up to take a position closer to Selene.

Selene hadn't known at what point she'd lost her sense of reality. Sitting up in the box, she had tried to take Nicholai's advice. She tried to breathe through the stressors, tried to think of anything else other than the yells and screams that were intermixing with the yelling.

There was no screaming.

There was joy, excitement in the air. But Selene certainly couldn't differentiate between the reality and the one she was creating in her mind. The celebration could have easily dissolved into chaos, and the guest wasn't sure that she could handle this alone. There was no one to hold her hand, and she wasn't close enough to Jo to rely on her for support. As the King stood to make his announcement, Selene allowed the focus to shift and she slipped out the back of the box. As much as she thought she could be here, could experience it all, Selene realized that she couldn't. She wasn't surprised to find a guard following her, most likely sent by Nicholai. Her feet carried her out the way she came, a part of her feeling sorry for not being able to stay, but knowing that she didn't want to embarrass herself by breaking down in public.

The streets were still packed, and the carriage she was loaded into struggled to make it back to the palace. But the farther away she got from the arena, the better she felt. The more she could breathe.

As the gladiator games started, Persephone was shocked to note that several of the fighters seemed nought but boys, and she was thankful when her father suggested her to move away from the edge of the balcony.

Finding her seat to the seat of her father - Iason now seated to her right, and Emilia on the other side of the king - Persephone was perfectly able to see the fighting that was happening below but as mostly uninterested in witnessing the violence, keeping her gaze either inward or on Iason as they spoke in hushed tones on occasion, throughout the progress of the games.

The announcements and cheers were impossible to block out as Persephone's ears filled in what her eyes were refusing to watch.

Fights between slaves, fights between man and animal... fights between professional gladiators. The manager of the Arcus had not held back in the plans for the event and every possible form of violent entertainment had been brought out for the Athenian populace to see.

Glancing towards her sister, Persephone wondered how Emilia was adjusting to the event and, upon noting the pale colour to her sister's normally rosy cheeks, Persephone reached out behind her father's throne in order to snag the few of her sister's fingers that she could reach and give them a squeeze of reassurance. Her gaze was firm as she met her eye.

Bear with it... Persephone's gaze instructed, while her touch offered comfort.

She sat like that, one arm wrapped in Iason's and the other hand curled around her sister's behind her father's back, until a particular horn was blown and an announcement was made regarding the final fight of the afternoon. Persephone straightened, as this was the only bout she had trying had a vested interest in and she dropped her sister’s hand in order to rest her fingers on her father's arm.

He had born the entire afternoon valiantly, and she knew that she was asking a lot for him to stand now, after her had held himself regally in his throne for the last few hours.

"Father, this is the man I have employed." She told him. "I believe it will be expected for Xanthos to stand behind their Champion." She nodded towards the balcony's edge.

Whether through his own health being too diminished to manage the task or legitimately for the excuse he now made, Persephone wasn't sure by the end result of his words was the same.

"You go, daughter mine." He told her with a pat to her hand. "This House will be yours soon enough. The people should know that the name Xanthos and the name Persephone are now one in the same."

Swallowing and licking at her now dry lips, Persephone glanced back at Iason, who nodded in encouragement and then extricated her arm from his own.

Standing gracefully - even if it was a task in so fitted a gown - Persephone ensured that her white chlamys was in place and covering the sheerer areas of her gown and then stepped forward to come into full and apparent view of the crowd, the sun glinting from her black hair and golden crown.

"Presenting..." The announcer called - heard only by the noble boxes and the first third of the stadium (no man's voice could travel further but whispers would spread the information to the other end of the arcus without much difficulty. "The Xanthos Champion!"

The younger princess’ raised brow and the undercurrent of a warning in her words would be difficult for any eye or ear to miss. Of course, such was expected; Iason was not expecting Emilia to accept him upon their first meeting, especially since their circumstances weren’t exactly ideal. He did not love Persephone, and Persephone did not love him. Their engagement was political, and although arranged marriages were no foreign concept among the Grecian people, it was almost fictitious to their families. Therefore, Iason understood exactly what the younger Xanthos was telling him and he could not supress the faint smile that began to tug at the corner of his lips as she turned to her sister, once again ignoring his presence, and by doing so, adding weight to her subtle warning. He already liked her.

“Thank you, Princess.” Iason bowed his head slightly in thanks to Persephone’s compliment and took his bride-to-be’s arm in his and for a moment allowed for his discomfiture to show through his features “Awkward? Trust me, you will never appear as such. I doubt it is even possible. I on the other hand.” He grinned jokingly and followed the King and the guards down to the carriages. Iason noticed the guards, some of which he was not acquainted with personally, but he was aware of who they were and what their rank was.

Vilmar, the Stalwart Sword, nodded towards Persephone, and although Iason was aware it was not directed his way, he still locked eyes with the man and felt it only respectful to nod in greeting. Among them were also Diomedes of House Nikolaos who has been rumoured to be poisoning the King. How much truth in that, if any at all, Iason knew not, but he wasn’t keen on jumping to any conclusions about a man he has never met. Another guard who stood out grabbed Iason’s notice, however, the man Iason knew as Emilia’s protector, Nicholai, did not hold his attention for long as his eyes shifted to the man known as Parmenion of Arcana, someone Iason has heard plenty of before. The man was certainly experienced, and well suited for the task of protecting the Princess Persephone. Although he wore new armour and carried new weaponry while mounted upon a great new steed, all of which barely seen any real combat, he knew the man had been through more than a shiny chest plate could cover.

Once inside the carriage, twenty minutes or so away from the arena, Iason could feel the silence fill the space and searched his mind for words to say, however, she had beat him to it. “Yes, neither have I.” he smiled as they both stated the obvious, but the smile turned to one of reassurance “I will be by your side every step of the way.” He said in a soft tone, looking into her eyes encouragingly before noticing the people of Athenia gathered at the sides of the path to the circus “Look,” he gestured towards the window of the carriage “They have come to see you.” And so they have, and so they should.

Athenia was at the brink of drastic change, the whole Kingdom knew it, in fact, other Kingdoms were not unaware of it either. Persephone has done well winning over the people of her Kingdom, and from what Iason could gather through mere rumour was that she has gained favour with most of The Senate as well. The engagement was to be the final push they needed; the last bit of reassurance. For most of the trip they stayed silent, but it did not feel awkward, and every now and then Iason would join in and wave to the people. He knew this was good for Persephone, and for what they were trying to accomplish.

As they arrived Iason stepped out, offering an arm to Persephone and smiling warmly to any who greeted him. However, few did, everyone’s eyes were on the princess and understandably so, all Iason could really do at this point was follow in her lead. He was happy to do so, after all, he was in a strange place filled with - aside from the nobles and a few guards - people he has never seen before. It was a strange feeling; he was feeling some nerves but appeared calm and seemed to be excited. They ascended the grand marble stairs, King Minas spoke to the manager who informed him of the gladiators, and after waiting a few minutes they continued to the top box within which the royal family and their retinue were situated. Iason took in a deeper breath than usual, the arena reminding him of Taengea and what happened at the chariot race before he came to Athenia. He tried not to alarm Persephone who now stood next to him at the centre in front at the railing, keeping himself calm.

Thousands of eyes staring at you were somewhat nerving, especially knowing what would be announced in but a mere few seconds and then what violence would unfold in your honour in the next few hours. The gladiators were now in the arena, and Iason was no stranger to the game; having grown up watching and even training with them. He understood this was entertainment, but to him it lost that value as soon as the odds became unfair or when animals were pitted against man. It was difficult for the Dimitrou to watch the animals being killed for mere sport and frustrating to see the injustice that unfolded to merely get a louder response from the audience. It was an event Iason did not look forward to sitting through and he could see that neither was the Princess beside him. Iason placed a hand on hers in comfort, but it was rather more to reassure her that she was strong enough to push through it. Although they might not share a passionate love for one another, they understood one another, and therefore would be there for each other in times like these.

Briefly Iason noticed the Stravos family filling the box to the left, but he payed little attention to the crimson figures as King Minas raised his hand to call for silence. There was never complete silence, but it was as quiet as Iason had ever heard it get. He addressed his people and Iason could sense Persephone tensing up and so gave her hand a soft squeeze, accompanied by a gentle smile before he dropped his hand back to his side, getting ready to open the games. The King announced their engagement and for a moment it felt even quieter than before, however, the air was now filled with whispers, none of which Iason’s ears registered as his heart felt like it was standing still. For a moment he felt like he was standing face to face with every Athenian, asking for their acceptance, and he was not even sure if he deserved it. Yet, as the King continued, here they were, cheering and clapping, stamping their feet. Iason was not sure whether they liked the news, fully comprehended what it meant, or just simply wanted the games to begin. Either way, it felt like a weight was lifted from his shoulders and so he, along with Persephone, opened the games.

As expected of a gladiator fight, it was violent and merciless and cruel. People cheered, people gasped, some screamed and there were even those who laughed. Iason kept his face expressionless for the most part, though every now and then he would stay focused on a fighter, observing their skills while occasionally speaking with Persephone. The fights were nearing to an end and Iason felt a slight tug at his arm and saw Persephone reaching for her sister. Iason sighed inwardly, his eyes shifting to the floor for a moment before he refocused them back onto the bloodied arena. She was still too innocent for things like this.

Not long after, the last fight was announced, and so Persephone turned to her father who told her to stand for their House’s champion. Iason didn’t know whether the King was too tired to do so himself, or whether he truly thought it best for Persephone to take his place. Either way, Iason agreed with the King and nodded encouragingly. He watched her as she freed her arm from his and gracefully stood, moving to the railing as the afternoon sun glistened off the gold on her dress and for a moment allowed himself to forget about the past few hours and the following to come.

Persephone had not organised the events to be carried out in the gladiator games. Such an idea would have been scoffed at by the arcus manager had she even tried to make a suggestion. Persephone knew better than that. There were just some areas in which a woman's opinion was neither valued nor needed. Including - and sometimes especially - when that woman was noble, or even royal. The choreographing of violent fights within a solely male gladiator arena? That would be one of them.

And so, Persephone knew little of what to expect, as she had stood from her throne and made her way to the balcony's edge. She had looked out over the crown, her spine straight, her gaze forward as she had expected the men to appear from below.

Make an event of it. She had said. It needed to be big and spectacular. Something that made the gladiator she had chosen for champion of her House seem as impressive as possible.

Planning this event - an event that would turn the people of Athenia (or at least the ones who weren't already) to the loyalty of House Xanthos - since she had first laid eyes on Androkles and the effect he had on the denizens of the kingdom, Persephone had been making large donations to the arcus in the king's name. She had done so from her personal pocket and so the coin had not showed up in the kingdom's budget and, as it was a donation and not an income the manage of the arena had not had to pay tax from it.

He had been highly enthusiastic about following her instructions to the letter.

What Persephone had failed to do, however, was take in the man's creativity. For as what seemed like a whole garrison of men strode out into the Arena from the opposite end of the stadium, Persephone was surprised but highly amused to see them wearing the colours of the House of Stravos. Not that anyone could really claim such a thing. Red and Gold were popular shades for royalty or noble Houses and - in fact - the last enemies they had faced, as a kingdom, to the east had worn red and yellow. Plenty of coincidental argument to be had there...

Persephone was careful to keep her smile to herself, even if her eyes brightened.

What then happened, however, Persephone had expected even less.

As the men came forward, marching to the beat of a drum and the sounding of a horn, the people had roared their appreciation for the full battle reenactment they were clearly about to receive for their patience throughout the afternoon. The cheers were strong and eager, a feeling of tension and curiosity flowing around the tiers as the crowds wondered at the identity of the champion announced.

Would he be someone they had seen before? Some wild man the Xanthos House had had hidden away? A foreign gladiator from Colchis or Taengea?

And then everything went quiet for a moment. The people stilled, the opposing army halted. People looked to Persephone...

She froze. Unwilling to show fear or awkwardness on her face. She kept her features plain, her confidence in place. Despite her inner mind being in turmoil. She had no idea if the man was even going to show up. Where the hell was he? What was he waiting for?

Gasps and calls of surprised stuck up from her left and Persephone looked to see nobles and citizens hastening out of the way of something.

She frowned and watched with surprise as - like a charging bull - her championed gladiator came bursting through the crowd, sending everyone recoiling in shock and barrelling right for her, a look of determination on his face that scared her and had her instinctively taking two hurried steps backwards.

The dress made it hard to move, she wobbled a moment and then her back was being supported by a hand. She snapped her head around to see Vilmar reach for his blade as Androkles drew close and Persephone - belatedly realising his aim - reached out to stop the man, a hand on his own where he had reached for the hilt of his blade.

"Hold." She informed him in a tone that was calmer than she felt as she watched with heart in throat as Androkles darted for the balcony.

With a heavy boot slamming into the wall of the dais and sending him through the air like a massive bird of prey - or perhaps a leaping mountain lion - Persephone hurried back to her position and broke propriety to place hands on the railing and lean down to watch as he landed with a somersault and roll.

Her heart pounding with the shock of it all, Persephone placed a hand to her chest and took as deep a breath as she could against the constraints of her gown, feeling light headed. She felt like a foolish and delicate lady of the court - the ones for whom a simple fanning of oneself was too strenuous but she couldn't seem to help it. His arrival had shocked her and the outfit wasn't helping, as she tried to inhale and calm herself down again.

As she did so, she felt animosity rising, wondering if it had been the fighter's idea to keep her ignorant of this whole production or the arcus director's. Either way... someone was going to be getting a strongly worded letter.