The chatbox has been hidden for this page. It will reopen upon refresh. To hide the CBox permanently, select "Permanently Toggle Cbox" in your profile User Settings.
This chatbox is hidden. To reopen, edit your User Settings.
Persephone watched her father with a shrewd stare, her eyes concerned and stringent. The king stood with his back to her, assessing his own appearance in the mirror of his bedchamber. To all who stood at enough of a distance, he appeared healthy and strong, his frame straight and his bearing defiant. But standing significantly closer than most would to a king, Persephone was able to notice the details that betrayed his ill health: the roots at his hairline on the back of his neck, damp with sweat; the way in which he brushed his palms against his robes subtly with each pass of his arms, intent on keeping them dry. The man was severely ill and yet was determined to appear otherwise.
"Is this entirely necessary, father?" She asked the man, knowing exactly what his response would be. The two of them were as stubborn as one another and her father would be up and performing his duties as regent so long as his health - or lack thereof - did not keep him chained to his bed, as it had done over the last week. Today, for whatever ill-timed plan the Gods had, had seen the king awake with a little more energy than normal, and a determination to attend the festivities at the Arcus. Today was a big day, but it was not the events of the next twelve hours that had Persephone nervous. It was the effect they would have on her sire and his lifespan.
Persephone had, over the last two months, slowly come to resign herself to the fact that her father was going to die. Far sooner than the Fates would normally take someone of his age and strength. This was not a negotiation to make with the divine. This was not a hope to hold onto for his health to improve and for him to get better. King Minas was deathly ill. And one day, she would attend to her father's bedchambers, as she did every morning, and he would not have woken. She had been mentally preparing herself for such an eventuality every day for the last three weeks. And yet, she still, as any daughter would, sought to reduce any circumstances or difficulties he may encounter, in order to make that limited time she knew she had with him, stretch to that little bit longer.
"It is." Was the simple and succinct reply she received from the king, whose tone brokered no argument. The two of them were just as defiant in their opinions as one another and to look at them, standing only a few feet part, spines straight, shoulders squared and jaws set, it was not at all difficult to see the familial resemblance. Persephone and Emilia might have inherited their mother's beauty (as she had been told on numerous occasions) but the eldest Xanthos princess was her father's daughter first and foremost. Responsibility-driven and a martyr to her family's needs and wishes as she was, Persephone was ignorant or simply in denial of the hypocrisy of her wanting her father to stay in bed and rest. Were the positions reversed, the father and daughter would be having the exact same conversation.
Recognising from the set of his shoulders and the look in his eyes in the mirror that there was to be no persuading him otherwise, Persephone sighed quietly to herself and then stepped forward in order to help with the proceedings she had hereunto been unparty to through simple protest.
"Fine." She admitted, reaching out and snatching the heavy leather tunic that he had been reaching for in order to replace his sleeping gown. "But you're not wearing that."
With curt directions and sharp instructions, Persephone had the chambermaids fetching and preparing the King's red chiton. As they worked, she instructed the maid in charge of the King's shoulder length hair to tie it back in a manner that hid the damp roots and kept the man looking smart and dignified. She then selected the crown he would wear personally, assessing the options. What she wanted to do was select the smallest and least heavy as the King would be standing or sitting up right for a large portion of the day - something that, until this morning, he had been unable to do for longer than an hour without needing bed rest in order to recover. Instead, however, she selected a large and imposing crown. It was designed in a cut out design and was only inlaid on one side, leaving it half hollow. This meant that, despite its impressive size, it was surprising light; designed to be worn for long or full-day events. The Colchian blood stones around the rim would suit his attire and remind all those who looked closely enough that the Xanthos family were on good terms with the House of Antonis who were married to the reigning House of Colchis. The gold, over silver, would also demonstrate the Xanthos family's wealth.
When the chiton gown was brought back in to be inspected, Persephone authorised her own choice and then left the room to give her father privacy as he changed.
Out in the King's living quarters, Persephone took a breath and tried not to let her thoughts stray beyond the next few minutes.
Such a mental exercise had been her saving grace for the last three weeks. Just focusing on the next step of the process without considering those that she left behind and those too far ahead of her. It had been the only way she had been able to keep her thoughts and her priorities safe. Over the last three weeks so much had happened that she could barely believe the changes in so short an amount of time. For one thing, the princess was now engaged. To be married. Betrothed. Whichever phrase her mind chose the concept was still abstract and bizarre to her, but she relied on her logic whenever the thoughts arose. Her engagement to Lord Iason was the most appropriate course of action. The man had been everything his father had led her to believe that he was: smart, handsome, brave and moral. He was a man of honour and good-judgement. One of kind words and polite smiles. In the dozen or so meetings the two of them had had over the last three weeks, she had become certain, as he adjusted dowry arrangements and consulted her on every minor change that he was a man of his word. One who would stand beside her as a husband and not overrule her as a king. In truth, Persephone felt that she should be thanking her lucky stars that the man sent to her was everything she needed in a husband, wrapped and packaged and already with the authority and blessing of his father to arrange the match. In reality, it was all happening faster than Persephone could wrap her emotions around and she had, so far, had little time to think on the future plan of matrimony beyond the logical sense that it made. Then there were the arrangements for today. The arcus fights and displays, the cirque they had sent messengers to invite to the capital. All week, performers, singers, musicians, freak shows, actors and stuntmen had been flooding to Athenia, knowing that the people would be out and about in celebration making merry and giving coin. The citizens of the city had been growing eager and unruly with so many foreigners camping out on street corners and alleyways, forbidden to perform until the evening; this evening. The evening on which her father would announce her engagement to Iason of Dimitrou.
All such things had had to be organised, all while side stepping the Stravos family and Elias's cunning little jibes at every Senate session her father had been unable to attend. And she had liked it that way. It had ensured that Persephone had not been distracted by... other thoughts.
Upon a servant opening her father's bedchamber again, Persephone stepped back inside to find her fully dressed in the blood red, floor-length chiton and the crown she had chosen fitted securely at his temples.
She felt a sudden, and unexpected, lump in her throat as she looked at the man who was in every way and inch the father she had known - tall, imposing, impressive... and yet in every way not. Sallow-skinned, thinner in frame and dark around the eyes. In that moment, as in many moments, it hit Persephone once again that her father was going to die.
This was no simple illness or disease, no test of faith and hope through which you were to simply survive only to be rewarded with a return to health and happier times. King Minas was not going to get better. He would have good days such as this, it was true, maybe even a handful of them between now and that fateful day. But when the energy diminished and the momentarily elation of his health passed, the King would continue on his health's downhill path. One of these mornings, when Persephone entered his bedchambers, as she did every morning to wake him, she knew she would - at some point - be confronted by a king who would be unable to be awoken. But while this knowledge was now a certainty in Persephone's mind - and one she had grown used to and mentally prepared herself for every day for the last three weeks - that didn't mean she didn't want to try and elongate the limited time she still had with her father to as long as she could. And having him attend such a stressful and high-profile event was hardly a way to give him the relaxing and quiet time his physician had recommended him.
"I truly wish you would reconsider this father." She told the man as she went over to adjust the folds of his chiton at the shoulders, entirely unnecessarily. "I can open these games myself. I did so at the previous one."
Persephone directed the addition of the gold bracers her father was famous for wearing and, upon checking that they did not slide or twist on his slightly thinner arm, was happy for them to stay. They gave the appearance of strength at least. She then instructed a servant to fetch her sister and then another to inform Lord Iason that they would meet him in the main foyer of the palace and attend the Arcus event together. During this, the king remained quiet, sturdy on his feet so long as he didn't move much, and simply watched his daughter. He noted how she gave instructions, how she held herself, how she judged and assessed behind those beautiful eyes - so much like her mother's - which choice or course of action was the best to take.
"You will make a wonderful Queen, Persephone." He told her, utterly ignoring her previous comment about being able to open the games herself. "The people will follow you."
Persephone felt her cheeks heat a little at the praise from the man she admired most in her life but she stamped down on the elation.
"The people will only follow me if I am allowed to rule, father." She told him. "And for that, I need you strong at the Senate meeting in two weeks, not tiring yourself out at some silly festivities." Persephone chastised him, assessing and refastening his bracers. The king allowed his daughter to fuss clearly recognising that it was part of the distraction she needed in this moment.
"My daughter, you know that this event is not solely for the people's enjoyment." He told her, referring to the announcement that was to be made regarding her marriage. When Persephone was quiet, the king frowned and placed a hand over her fussing fingers, bringing her attention and eyeline back to his. "This betrothal is what you want, isn't it Persephone?"
And how was she supposed to answer that? Persephone couldn't help but think. Admit that, no, potentially it wasn't what she wanted. But, given that she could never seem to look at anything without the blinkered view of what was right for her family and for the kingdom as a whole, she also couldn't be certain that this betrothal wasn't something she would want, if given the chance to assess her feelings from an objective viewpoint. Lord Iason was everything a young woman would want to marry. What could sway her otherwise?
A momentary flash of sensation, of velvet against her mouth, intruded on her thoughts but she pushed it down ruthlessly.
"It is the right thing to do, father." She told him, unable to lie but cementing the truth with a smile on her face. "I am happy to marry Lord Iason."
Her tone brought the conversation firmly to a halt and Persephone looked up to notice her sister approaching through the king's living quarters and heading quickly within earshot.
"There..." Persephone assessed, taking a step back and looking over her father. The chiton was of thin material, relying on layers for opacity over thickness of weave, which made it light to wear, the deep colour and softness of the fabric hid some of the thinness of his frame and the warmth of the sun would lend some extra colour to his pallor once they were outside. As a ladies maid finished tying the king's sandals, Persephone smiled at her father. "Your Majesty..." Persephone lowered her head and dipped her skirts in respect of her father's rank, but the man simply clucked a finger beneath her chin and had her standing straight again in no time, a smile on her face from when he used to do that when she and Emilia were little.
Persephone watched as the king turned his attention to his youngest daughter and held out his arms to embrace her. Persephone's smile became wider as the king brought one arm around her shoulders and held out the other to the younger of the two, intent on embracing his whole family.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Persephone watched her father with a shrewd stare, her eyes concerned and stringent. The king stood with his back to her, assessing his own appearance in the mirror of his bedchamber. To all who stood at enough of a distance, he appeared healthy and strong, his frame straight and his bearing defiant. But standing significantly closer than most would to a king, Persephone was able to notice the details that betrayed his ill health: the roots at his hairline on the back of his neck, damp with sweat; the way in which he brushed his palms against his robes subtly with each pass of his arms, intent on keeping them dry. The man was severely ill and yet was determined to appear otherwise.
"Is this entirely necessary, father?" She asked the man, knowing exactly what his response would be. The two of them were as stubborn as one another and her father would be up and performing his duties as regent so long as his health - or lack thereof - did not keep him chained to his bed, as it had done over the last week. Today, for whatever ill-timed plan the Gods had, had seen the king awake with a little more energy than normal, and a determination to attend the festivities at the Arcus. Today was a big day, but it was not the events of the next twelve hours that had Persephone nervous. It was the effect they would have on her sire and his lifespan.
Persephone had, over the last two months, slowly come to resign herself to the fact that her father was going to die. Far sooner than the Fates would normally take someone of his age and strength. This was not a negotiation to make with the divine. This was not a hope to hold onto for his health to improve and for him to get better. King Minas was deathly ill. And one day, she would attend to her father's bedchambers, as she did every morning, and he would not have woken. She had been mentally preparing herself for such an eventuality every day for the last three weeks. And yet, she still, as any daughter would, sought to reduce any circumstances or difficulties he may encounter, in order to make that limited time she knew she had with him, stretch to that little bit longer.
"It is." Was the simple and succinct reply she received from the king, whose tone brokered no argument. The two of them were just as defiant in their opinions as one another and to look at them, standing only a few feet part, spines straight, shoulders squared and jaws set, it was not at all difficult to see the familial resemblance. Persephone and Emilia might have inherited their mother's beauty (as she had been told on numerous occasions) but the eldest Xanthos princess was her father's daughter first and foremost. Responsibility-driven and a martyr to her family's needs and wishes as she was, Persephone was ignorant or simply in denial of the hypocrisy of her wanting her father to stay in bed and rest. Were the positions reversed, the father and daughter would be having the exact same conversation.
Recognising from the set of his shoulders and the look in his eyes in the mirror that there was to be no persuading him otherwise, Persephone sighed quietly to herself and then stepped forward in order to help with the proceedings she had hereunto been unparty to through simple protest.
"Fine." She admitted, reaching out and snatching the heavy leather tunic that he had been reaching for in order to replace his sleeping gown. "But you're not wearing that."
With curt directions and sharp instructions, Persephone had the chambermaids fetching and preparing the King's red chiton. As they worked, she instructed the maid in charge of the King's shoulder length hair to tie it back in a manner that hid the damp roots and kept the man looking smart and dignified. She then selected the crown he would wear personally, assessing the options. What she wanted to do was select the smallest and least heavy as the King would be standing or sitting up right for a large portion of the day - something that, until this morning, he had been unable to do for longer than an hour without needing bed rest in order to recover. Instead, however, she selected a large and imposing crown. It was designed in a cut out design and was only inlaid on one side, leaving it half hollow. This meant that, despite its impressive size, it was surprising light; designed to be worn for long or full-day events. The Colchian blood stones around the rim would suit his attire and remind all those who looked closely enough that the Xanthos family were on good terms with the House of Antonis who were married to the reigning House of Colchis. The gold, over silver, would also demonstrate the Xanthos family's wealth.
When the chiton gown was brought back in to be inspected, Persephone authorised her own choice and then left the room to give her father privacy as he changed.
Out in the King's living quarters, Persephone took a breath and tried not to let her thoughts stray beyond the next few minutes.
Such a mental exercise had been her saving grace for the last three weeks. Just focusing on the next step of the process without considering those that she left behind and those too far ahead of her. It had been the only way she had been able to keep her thoughts and her priorities safe. Over the last three weeks so much had happened that she could barely believe the changes in so short an amount of time. For one thing, the princess was now engaged. To be married. Betrothed. Whichever phrase her mind chose the concept was still abstract and bizarre to her, but she relied on her logic whenever the thoughts arose. Her engagement to Lord Iason was the most appropriate course of action. The man had been everything his father had led her to believe that he was: smart, handsome, brave and moral. He was a man of honour and good-judgement. One of kind words and polite smiles. In the dozen or so meetings the two of them had had over the last three weeks, she had become certain, as he adjusted dowry arrangements and consulted her on every minor change that he was a man of his word. One who would stand beside her as a husband and not overrule her as a king. In truth, Persephone felt that she should be thanking her lucky stars that the man sent to her was everything she needed in a husband, wrapped and packaged and already with the authority and blessing of his father to arrange the match. In reality, it was all happening faster than Persephone could wrap her emotions around and she had, so far, had little time to think on the future plan of matrimony beyond the logical sense that it made. Then there were the arrangements for today. The arcus fights and displays, the cirque they had sent messengers to invite to the capital. All week, performers, singers, musicians, freak shows, actors and stuntmen had been flooding to Athenia, knowing that the people would be out and about in celebration making merry and giving coin. The citizens of the city had been growing eager and unruly with so many foreigners camping out on street corners and alleyways, forbidden to perform until the evening; this evening. The evening on which her father would announce her engagement to Iason of Dimitrou.
All such things had had to be organised, all while side stepping the Stravos family and Elias's cunning little jibes at every Senate session her father had been unable to attend. And she had liked it that way. It had ensured that Persephone had not been distracted by... other thoughts.
Upon a servant opening her father's bedchamber again, Persephone stepped back inside to find her fully dressed in the blood red, floor-length chiton and the crown she had chosen fitted securely at his temples.
She felt a sudden, and unexpected, lump in her throat as she looked at the man who was in every way and inch the father she had known - tall, imposing, impressive... and yet in every way not. Sallow-skinned, thinner in frame and dark around the eyes. In that moment, as in many moments, it hit Persephone once again that her father was going to die.
This was no simple illness or disease, no test of faith and hope through which you were to simply survive only to be rewarded with a return to health and happier times. King Minas was not going to get better. He would have good days such as this, it was true, maybe even a handful of them between now and that fateful day. But when the energy diminished and the momentarily elation of his health passed, the King would continue on his health's downhill path. One of these mornings, when Persephone entered his bedchambers, as she did every morning to wake him, she knew she would - at some point - be confronted by a king who would be unable to be awoken. But while this knowledge was now a certainty in Persephone's mind - and one she had grown used to and mentally prepared herself for every day for the last three weeks - that didn't mean she didn't want to try and elongate the limited time she still had with her father to as long as she could. And having him attend such a stressful and high-profile event was hardly a way to give him the relaxing and quiet time his physician had recommended him.
"I truly wish you would reconsider this father." She told the man as she went over to adjust the folds of his chiton at the shoulders, entirely unnecessarily. "I can open these games myself. I did so at the previous one."
Persephone directed the addition of the gold bracers her father was famous for wearing and, upon checking that they did not slide or twist on his slightly thinner arm, was happy for them to stay. They gave the appearance of strength at least. She then instructed a servant to fetch her sister and then another to inform Lord Iason that they would meet him in the main foyer of the palace and attend the Arcus event together. During this, the king remained quiet, sturdy on his feet so long as he didn't move much, and simply watched his daughter. He noted how she gave instructions, how she held herself, how she judged and assessed behind those beautiful eyes - so much like her mother's - which choice or course of action was the best to take.
"You will make a wonderful Queen, Persephone." He told her, utterly ignoring her previous comment about being able to open the games herself. "The people will follow you."
Persephone felt her cheeks heat a little at the praise from the man she admired most in her life but she stamped down on the elation.
"The people will only follow me if I am allowed to rule, father." She told him. "And for that, I need you strong at the Senate meeting in two weeks, not tiring yourself out at some silly festivities." Persephone chastised him, assessing and refastening his bracers. The king allowed his daughter to fuss clearly recognising that it was part of the distraction she needed in this moment.
"My daughter, you know that this event is not solely for the people's enjoyment." He told her, referring to the announcement that was to be made regarding her marriage. When Persephone was quiet, the king frowned and placed a hand over her fussing fingers, bringing her attention and eyeline back to his. "This betrothal is what you want, isn't it Persephone?"
And how was she supposed to answer that? Persephone couldn't help but think. Admit that, no, potentially it wasn't what she wanted. But, given that she could never seem to look at anything without the blinkered view of what was right for her family and for the kingdom as a whole, she also couldn't be certain that this betrothal wasn't something she would want, if given the chance to assess her feelings from an objective viewpoint. Lord Iason was everything a young woman would want to marry. What could sway her otherwise?
A momentary flash of sensation, of velvet against her mouth, intruded on her thoughts but she pushed it down ruthlessly.
"It is the right thing to do, father." She told him, unable to lie but cementing the truth with a smile on her face. "I am happy to marry Lord Iason."
Her tone brought the conversation firmly to a halt and Persephone looked up to notice her sister approaching through the king's living quarters and heading quickly within earshot.
"There..." Persephone assessed, taking a step back and looking over her father. The chiton was of thin material, relying on layers for opacity over thickness of weave, which made it light to wear, the deep colour and softness of the fabric hid some of the thinness of his frame and the warmth of the sun would lend some extra colour to his pallor once they were outside. As a ladies maid finished tying the king's sandals, Persephone smiled at her father. "Your Majesty..." Persephone lowered her head and dipped her skirts in respect of her father's rank, but the man simply clucked a finger beneath her chin and had her standing straight again in no time, a smile on her face from when he used to do that when she and Emilia were little.
Persephone watched as the king turned his attention to his youngest daughter and held out his arms to embrace her. Persephone's smile became wider as the king brought one arm around her shoulders and held out the other to the younger of the two, intent on embracing his whole family.
Persephone watched her father with a shrewd stare, her eyes concerned and stringent. The king stood with his back to her, assessing his own appearance in the mirror of his bedchamber. To all who stood at enough of a distance, he appeared healthy and strong, his frame straight and his bearing defiant. But standing significantly closer than most would to a king, Persephone was able to notice the details that betrayed his ill health: the roots at his hairline on the back of his neck, damp with sweat; the way in which he brushed his palms against his robes subtly with each pass of his arms, intent on keeping them dry. The man was severely ill and yet was determined to appear otherwise.
"Is this entirely necessary, father?" She asked the man, knowing exactly what his response would be. The two of them were as stubborn as one another and her father would be up and performing his duties as regent so long as his health - or lack thereof - did not keep him chained to his bed, as it had done over the last week. Today, for whatever ill-timed plan the Gods had, had seen the king awake with a little more energy than normal, and a determination to attend the festivities at the Arcus. Today was a big day, but it was not the events of the next twelve hours that had Persephone nervous. It was the effect they would have on her sire and his lifespan.
Persephone had, over the last two months, slowly come to resign herself to the fact that her father was going to die. Far sooner than the Fates would normally take someone of his age and strength. This was not a negotiation to make with the divine. This was not a hope to hold onto for his health to improve and for him to get better. King Minas was deathly ill. And one day, she would attend to her father's bedchambers, as she did every morning, and he would not have woken. She had been mentally preparing herself for such an eventuality every day for the last three weeks. And yet, she still, as any daughter would, sought to reduce any circumstances or difficulties he may encounter, in order to make that limited time she knew she had with him, stretch to that little bit longer.
"It is." Was the simple and succinct reply she received from the king, whose tone brokered no argument. The two of them were just as defiant in their opinions as one another and to look at them, standing only a few feet part, spines straight, shoulders squared and jaws set, it was not at all difficult to see the familial resemblance. Persephone and Emilia might have inherited their mother's beauty (as she had been told on numerous occasions) but the eldest Xanthos princess was her father's daughter first and foremost. Responsibility-driven and a martyr to her family's needs and wishes as she was, Persephone was ignorant or simply in denial of the hypocrisy of her wanting her father to stay in bed and rest. Were the positions reversed, the father and daughter would be having the exact same conversation.
Recognising from the set of his shoulders and the look in his eyes in the mirror that there was to be no persuading him otherwise, Persephone sighed quietly to herself and then stepped forward in order to help with the proceedings she had hereunto been unparty to through simple protest.
"Fine." She admitted, reaching out and snatching the heavy leather tunic that he had been reaching for in order to replace his sleeping gown. "But you're not wearing that."
With curt directions and sharp instructions, Persephone had the chambermaids fetching and preparing the King's red chiton. As they worked, she instructed the maid in charge of the King's shoulder length hair to tie it back in a manner that hid the damp roots and kept the man looking smart and dignified. She then selected the crown he would wear personally, assessing the options. What she wanted to do was select the smallest and least heavy as the King would be standing or sitting up right for a large portion of the day - something that, until this morning, he had been unable to do for longer than an hour without needing bed rest in order to recover. Instead, however, she selected a large and imposing crown. It was designed in a cut out design and was only inlaid on one side, leaving it half hollow. This meant that, despite its impressive size, it was surprising light; designed to be worn for long or full-day events. The Colchian blood stones around the rim would suit his attire and remind all those who looked closely enough that the Xanthos family were on good terms with the House of Antonis who were married to the reigning House of Colchis. The gold, over silver, would also demonstrate the Xanthos family's wealth.
When the chiton gown was brought back in to be inspected, Persephone authorised her own choice and then left the room to give her father privacy as he changed.
Out in the King's living quarters, Persephone took a breath and tried not to let her thoughts stray beyond the next few minutes.
Such a mental exercise had been her saving grace for the last three weeks. Just focusing on the next step of the process without considering those that she left behind and those too far ahead of her. It had been the only way she had been able to keep her thoughts and her priorities safe. Over the last three weeks so much had happened that she could barely believe the changes in so short an amount of time. For one thing, the princess was now engaged. To be married. Betrothed. Whichever phrase her mind chose the concept was still abstract and bizarre to her, but she relied on her logic whenever the thoughts arose. Her engagement to Lord Iason was the most appropriate course of action. The man had been everything his father had led her to believe that he was: smart, handsome, brave and moral. He was a man of honour and good-judgement. One of kind words and polite smiles. In the dozen or so meetings the two of them had had over the last three weeks, she had become certain, as he adjusted dowry arrangements and consulted her on every minor change that he was a man of his word. One who would stand beside her as a husband and not overrule her as a king. In truth, Persephone felt that she should be thanking her lucky stars that the man sent to her was everything she needed in a husband, wrapped and packaged and already with the authority and blessing of his father to arrange the match. In reality, it was all happening faster than Persephone could wrap her emotions around and she had, so far, had little time to think on the future plan of matrimony beyond the logical sense that it made. Then there were the arrangements for today. The arcus fights and displays, the cirque they had sent messengers to invite to the capital. All week, performers, singers, musicians, freak shows, actors and stuntmen had been flooding to Athenia, knowing that the people would be out and about in celebration making merry and giving coin. The citizens of the city had been growing eager and unruly with so many foreigners camping out on street corners and alleyways, forbidden to perform until the evening; this evening. The evening on which her father would announce her engagement to Iason of Dimitrou.
All such things had had to be organised, all while side stepping the Stravos family and Elias's cunning little jibes at every Senate session her father had been unable to attend. And she had liked it that way. It had ensured that Persephone had not been distracted by... other thoughts.
Upon a servant opening her father's bedchamber again, Persephone stepped back inside to find her fully dressed in the blood red, floor-length chiton and the crown she had chosen fitted securely at his temples.
She felt a sudden, and unexpected, lump in her throat as she looked at the man who was in every way and inch the father she had known - tall, imposing, impressive... and yet in every way not. Sallow-skinned, thinner in frame and dark around the eyes. In that moment, as in many moments, it hit Persephone once again that her father was going to die.
This was no simple illness or disease, no test of faith and hope through which you were to simply survive only to be rewarded with a return to health and happier times. King Minas was not going to get better. He would have good days such as this, it was true, maybe even a handful of them between now and that fateful day. But when the energy diminished and the momentarily elation of his health passed, the King would continue on his health's downhill path. One of these mornings, when Persephone entered his bedchambers, as she did every morning to wake him, she knew she would - at some point - be confronted by a king who would be unable to be awoken. But while this knowledge was now a certainty in Persephone's mind - and one she had grown used to and mentally prepared herself for every day for the last three weeks - that didn't mean she didn't want to try and elongate the limited time she still had with her father to as long as she could. And having him attend such a stressful and high-profile event was hardly a way to give him the relaxing and quiet time his physician had recommended him.
"I truly wish you would reconsider this father." She told the man as she went over to adjust the folds of his chiton at the shoulders, entirely unnecessarily. "I can open these games myself. I did so at the previous one."
Persephone directed the addition of the gold bracers her father was famous for wearing and, upon checking that they did not slide or twist on his slightly thinner arm, was happy for them to stay. They gave the appearance of strength at least. She then instructed a servant to fetch her sister and then another to inform Lord Iason that they would meet him in the main foyer of the palace and attend the Arcus event together. During this, the king remained quiet, sturdy on his feet so long as he didn't move much, and simply watched his daughter. He noted how she gave instructions, how she held herself, how she judged and assessed behind those beautiful eyes - so much like her mother's - which choice or course of action was the best to take.
"You will make a wonderful Queen, Persephone." He told her, utterly ignoring her previous comment about being able to open the games herself. "The people will follow you."
Persephone felt her cheeks heat a little at the praise from the man she admired most in her life but she stamped down on the elation.
"The people will only follow me if I am allowed to rule, father." She told him. "And for that, I need you strong at the Senate meeting in two weeks, not tiring yourself out at some silly festivities." Persephone chastised him, assessing and refastening his bracers. The king allowed his daughter to fuss clearly recognising that it was part of the distraction she needed in this moment.
"My daughter, you know that this event is not solely for the people's enjoyment." He told her, referring to the announcement that was to be made regarding her marriage. When Persephone was quiet, the king frowned and placed a hand over her fussing fingers, bringing her attention and eyeline back to his. "This betrothal is what you want, isn't it Persephone?"
And how was she supposed to answer that? Persephone couldn't help but think. Admit that, no, potentially it wasn't what she wanted. But, given that she could never seem to look at anything without the blinkered view of what was right for her family and for the kingdom as a whole, she also couldn't be certain that this betrothal wasn't something she would want, if given the chance to assess her feelings from an objective viewpoint. Lord Iason was everything a young woman would want to marry. What could sway her otherwise?
A momentary flash of sensation, of velvet against her mouth, intruded on her thoughts but she pushed it down ruthlessly.
"It is the right thing to do, father." She told him, unable to lie but cementing the truth with a smile on her face. "I am happy to marry Lord Iason."
Her tone brought the conversation firmly to a halt and Persephone looked up to notice her sister approaching through the king's living quarters and heading quickly within earshot.
"There..." Persephone assessed, taking a step back and looking over her father. The chiton was of thin material, relying on layers for opacity over thickness of weave, which made it light to wear, the deep colour and softness of the fabric hid some of the thinness of his frame and the warmth of the sun would lend some extra colour to his pallor once they were outside. As a ladies maid finished tying the king's sandals, Persephone smiled at her father. "Your Majesty..." Persephone lowered her head and dipped her skirts in respect of her father's rank, but the man simply clucked a finger beneath her chin and had her standing straight again in no time, a smile on her face from when he used to do that when she and Emilia were little.
Persephone watched as the king turned his attention to his youngest daughter and held out his arms to embrace her. Persephone's smile became wider as the king brought one arm around her shoulders and held out the other to the younger of the two, intent on embracing his whole family.
Her father was basically the only parent she knew.
Emilia stood still, waiting as Helen wound the silken chiton she wore for royal functions. In a shade of unique burnt orange, the material and shade of color reflected light beautifully, and Emilia always caught everyone's attention without fail whenever she wore it. The large mirror she had in her room served to allow Emilia to direct her lady's maid as Helen dressed her, affixing the golden pins on both sides of her shoulder to keep the gown up in place, before she picked up the dark green woven belt, the color matching the emeralds embedded in the silver circlet she wore.
The belt held up the dress in such a way that allowed Emilia's legs to show just enough shape as she walked, yet its color complemented her tanned skin and curled brunette locks. As the final touch to the outfit, Helen laid out her leathered sandals, helping the young princess twine its laces halfway up the calf, and slipped on the golden bracers wrought in the shape of doves on both her wrists, before she bowed, and opened the door where Emilia was quickly escorted by her guards down the hallway, towards the stairwell.
To be honest, the young girl was not looking forward to the Arcus and its festivities. Generally, Emilia is one who would be excited to meet new people, watch the beautiful performances, mingle with the people of Athenia, and just generally have a good time.
The point of the event however, was not something Emilia looked forward to celebrating. Despite her having came to terms with her sister's decision to enter the engagement, Emilia remained wary as she had yet to meet this Iason of Dimitrou, and held out a judgement until she met who was supposed to be her future brother in law. That, plus the fact that when her sister had mentioned her father insisted on attending, Emilia's heart had immediately skipped with worry.
It was no news that King Minas's health was hanging by a thread. It was something both Xanthos sisters lived in constant fear of, that they would one day awake and have no sire to call their own. And unlike Persephone, Emilia grew up knowing only her father as a parent, and she was very much a daddy's little girl. As she approached the royal's living quarters, her chest hitching when she saw the frail frame of her father. People who were unfamiliar, will not notice, but Emilia did. The sallow look, the thinner limbs. The same limbs that used to carry her on his shoulders, bounce her on his lap, these very same limbs now shook with weakness, the kind that no healer or physicist seem to be able to find a cure for.
She walked with poise and grace, always doing her best to attempt to emulate her elder sister's every action, something Emilia seems to do very often...yet the moment her father held out his arms to him, Emilia couldn't help but to drop decorum, and picked up her skirts to run to his arms, tucking her head into her father's chest and savoring his warmth, slight tears coming to her eyes as she tilted her head up and looked at her father. "You ready to go Father?" she asked, surprised at how stable her voice was. "I'll stay by your side." Emilia grinned, taking a step away from his embrace, and then tucking her hand into his elbows, with a loving smile.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Her father was basically the only parent she knew.
Emilia stood still, waiting as Helen wound the silken chiton she wore for royal functions. In a shade of unique burnt orange, the material and shade of color reflected light beautifully, and Emilia always caught everyone's attention without fail whenever she wore it. The large mirror she had in her room served to allow Emilia to direct her lady's maid as Helen dressed her, affixing the golden pins on both sides of her shoulder to keep the gown up in place, before she picked up the dark green woven belt, the color matching the emeralds embedded in the silver circlet she wore.
The belt held up the dress in such a way that allowed Emilia's legs to show just enough shape as she walked, yet its color complemented her tanned skin and curled brunette locks. As the final touch to the outfit, Helen laid out her leathered sandals, helping the young princess twine its laces halfway up the calf, and slipped on the golden bracers wrought in the shape of doves on both her wrists, before she bowed, and opened the door where Emilia was quickly escorted by her guards down the hallway, towards the stairwell.
To be honest, the young girl was not looking forward to the Arcus and its festivities. Generally, Emilia is one who would be excited to meet new people, watch the beautiful performances, mingle with the people of Athenia, and just generally have a good time.
The point of the event however, was not something Emilia looked forward to celebrating. Despite her having came to terms with her sister's decision to enter the engagement, Emilia remained wary as she had yet to meet this Iason of Dimitrou, and held out a judgement until she met who was supposed to be her future brother in law. That, plus the fact that when her sister had mentioned her father insisted on attending, Emilia's heart had immediately skipped with worry.
It was no news that King Minas's health was hanging by a thread. It was something both Xanthos sisters lived in constant fear of, that they would one day awake and have no sire to call their own. And unlike Persephone, Emilia grew up knowing only her father as a parent, and she was very much a daddy's little girl. As she approached the royal's living quarters, her chest hitching when she saw the frail frame of her father. People who were unfamiliar, will not notice, but Emilia did. The sallow look, the thinner limbs. The same limbs that used to carry her on his shoulders, bounce her on his lap, these very same limbs now shook with weakness, the kind that no healer or physicist seem to be able to find a cure for.
She walked with poise and grace, always doing her best to attempt to emulate her elder sister's every action, something Emilia seems to do very often...yet the moment her father held out his arms to him, Emilia couldn't help but to drop decorum, and picked up her skirts to run to his arms, tucking her head into her father's chest and savoring his warmth, slight tears coming to her eyes as she tilted her head up and looked at her father. "You ready to go Father?" she asked, surprised at how stable her voice was. "I'll stay by your side." Emilia grinned, taking a step away from his embrace, and then tucking her hand into his elbows, with a loving smile.
Her father was basically the only parent she knew.
Emilia stood still, waiting as Helen wound the silken chiton she wore for royal functions. In a shade of unique burnt orange, the material and shade of color reflected light beautifully, and Emilia always caught everyone's attention without fail whenever she wore it. The large mirror she had in her room served to allow Emilia to direct her lady's maid as Helen dressed her, affixing the golden pins on both sides of her shoulder to keep the gown up in place, before she picked up the dark green woven belt, the color matching the emeralds embedded in the silver circlet she wore.
The belt held up the dress in such a way that allowed Emilia's legs to show just enough shape as she walked, yet its color complemented her tanned skin and curled brunette locks. As the final touch to the outfit, Helen laid out her leathered sandals, helping the young princess twine its laces halfway up the calf, and slipped on the golden bracers wrought in the shape of doves on both her wrists, before she bowed, and opened the door where Emilia was quickly escorted by her guards down the hallway, towards the stairwell.
To be honest, the young girl was not looking forward to the Arcus and its festivities. Generally, Emilia is one who would be excited to meet new people, watch the beautiful performances, mingle with the people of Athenia, and just generally have a good time.
The point of the event however, was not something Emilia looked forward to celebrating. Despite her having came to terms with her sister's decision to enter the engagement, Emilia remained wary as she had yet to meet this Iason of Dimitrou, and held out a judgement until she met who was supposed to be her future brother in law. That, plus the fact that when her sister had mentioned her father insisted on attending, Emilia's heart had immediately skipped with worry.
It was no news that King Minas's health was hanging by a thread. It was something both Xanthos sisters lived in constant fear of, that they would one day awake and have no sire to call their own. And unlike Persephone, Emilia grew up knowing only her father as a parent, and she was very much a daddy's little girl. As she approached the royal's living quarters, her chest hitching when she saw the frail frame of her father. People who were unfamiliar, will not notice, but Emilia did. The sallow look, the thinner limbs. The same limbs that used to carry her on his shoulders, bounce her on his lap, these very same limbs now shook with weakness, the kind that no healer or physicist seem to be able to find a cure for.
She walked with poise and grace, always doing her best to attempt to emulate her elder sister's every action, something Emilia seems to do very often...yet the moment her father held out his arms to him, Emilia couldn't help but to drop decorum, and picked up her skirts to run to his arms, tucking her head into her father's chest and savoring his warmth, slight tears coming to her eyes as she tilted her head up and looked at her father. "You ready to go Father?" she asked, surprised at how stable her voice was. "I'll stay by your side." Emilia grinned, taking a step away from his embrace, and then tucking her hand into his elbows, with a loving smile.
Persephone smiled as her sister regressed from poised princess to little girl in the blink of an eye. Gods how she wished she could be like Emilia at times. How the princess element of her life could be something that she acted in, that she put-on. An addition to her own fully-rounded identity. As it was, Persephone had been playing princess - and in fact, Queen - since her mother passed. For over eleven years she had been "Princess Persephone", eldest daughter of the king, and she had somewhere, along the way, lost the time and desire to form any kind of understanding for who "Persephone" was. Which was why she looked at everything logically, with the objective view of what was best for her role, her rank, her family and her kingdom. It was the only way to view the world that she knew.
Emilia was different. A beautiful and elegant princess she was, when she needed to be. The rest of the time she was just Emilia - the beautiful and happy person that she was. Persephone knew that Emilia occasionally envied her; that the youngest sister saw the elder as something to aspire to. Persephone couldn't help but wish for the exact opposite for Emilia. That she continued to act as much like Persephone as possible in public, but that she never, ever become the empty role that she was.
Persephone gave herself a mental shake and took a moment to enjoy the family embrace as Emilia was folded into the three-way hug. Empty or not, her role was important, and she had no rights to complain about the way her life was going. She was to make her father proud. That was what brought her joy. And that was what she would be doing.
Breathing in and taking a relaxing exhale out, her head cushioned beneath her father's chin, and her arms wrapped around the only two people in the world she loved, Persephone smelt the deep and full-bodied scent of her father... the clean and citrus spice of her little sister... and did everything she could to permanent etch that smell into her brain. She never wanted to forget what it felt like to be a part of this family...
As the two of them pulled away, the king took a moment to press a kiss to the top of Emilia's head and offer a soft stroke to Persephone's shoulder.
Swallowing hard and stepping to check her own appearance in the mirror - she had gotten ready before entering her father's chambers - she was pleased to see that her appearance had not changed in the last few hours despite the emotional and mental overhaul she felt like she had gone through. Though she couldn't help but feel over-dressed, even for her position as first daughter of the king.
The gown she wore was startling one in a design she had never worn before. It had, according to the head seamstress, become a design fashion in Lands Afar and was seen as rich and elegant by the people when tales of such outfits were brought back by sailors and travellers. She had been a little unsure, however, as the woman had directed the outfit being placed on her body by her maids.
The first thing Persephone had had to do, standing naked in her bedchambers was raise her hands above her head and allow her ladies in waiting to run around her in circles securing the gown in place. Layers of the thinnest, most transparent cloth Persephone had ever seen had been wrapped around her body, tighter than anything else she had ever worn. The cloth, in a colour of pure gold had given her nothing over her shoulders, pulled tight against her bust and fitted her torso between armpits and her hipbones like a second skin. The cloth, while transparent had been wrapped tight and in so many layers that the lines of her body had slowly, with each passing of her ladies’ maids become blurry. The fabric had then - somehow, Persephone wasn't sure - been fastened into place and allowed to fall in great swaths of translucent material from hip-bone to several inches over the floor, ensuring that her sandals didn't show even with each step she made.
As she had assessed herself in the mirror that morning, Persephone had been very uncertain. The gown was startling and attention-drawing and gave her the appearance of being both naked and in possession of bright gold skin. Even the big bell shape of the shirts did nothing to hide the shadowy lines of her lean legs beneath. In certain lights the gown made you narrow your eyes and wonder if it was, indeed, see-through.
Despite the fact that the bright gold set off the tan of her skin to a beautiful almond shade, Persephone had been determined to wear something else - something less... provocative - when the seamstress/dresser Helen had insisted that there was a second layer to the outfit.
She had then produced a beautiful outer layer of fabric just as translucent but in the purest white, so it reflected the light. This layer, the girls had looped beneath one of her arms, leaving her left shoulder entirely bare and then fastened the two sides together over her right with an indicate piece of gold fibulae. The white sheath had fallen in two fine corners to her right hip, and the edges of the fabric had been highlighted in gold stitching. While it did little to stop the evocative style of the under dress - especially in the torso where she was squashed so much that her breasts appeared twice the size and her waist twice as thin - the white chlamys made her feel slightly more comfortable that she wasn't too on show.
On show, however, seemed to be exactly what her father wanted her to be for the big announcement as the royal dresser had then produced the jewellery that the king had already authorised.
First came the upper arm bracers. Tubes of gold that were cut and hollowed into the finest net design she had ever seen gold woven into - with leaves and flowers cut out all around its surface. These were fastened around her slim biceps and gave the semi-appearance of sleeves that started from underarm to elbow. What seemed to be a hundred gold bangles were added to each of her wrists so she couldn't move without it sounding like a rainstorm, and another hundred added to one of her ankles, where the gown's layers split slightly with each step and revealed a tan leg and ankle.
She was then given rings that ran the length of three of her fingers on the right hand and two on her left. And when she was approached with an elaborate necklace choker she put her foot down. Any more metal and she wouldn't be able to move.
Instead, the maids had focused on her hair, brushing the black locks until they shone and then fastening them on top of her hair in a thousand intricate braids. She had sat at her bureau for perhaps two hours while all five of the girls had worked on it and while it was not very hair - she hated having her hair feel like a tower on top of her head - and instead pressed closely to her head, the design was impeccable when done.
Her royal crown - the golden ivy circlet with the rise at the front was secured onto her braids and make up powder was used to darken around her eyes and shape her already defined cheekbones so that her appearance was at once beautiful and dramatic.
By the end of the arrangements, Persephone had felt so trussed up, pulled in and lavishly decorated that she might as well stand still as a statue and be called a piece of art over a human being... and she still felt that way as she looked in her father's mirror now, while her sister spoke to the king.
But she knew what her father was doing...
The events of today were two-fold. One was to show off the connection they were making with the House of Dimitrou, impressing on people their new connection to heritage and power, but also making it clear that Xanthos had enough power of their own that they were not in need of the engagement (it was a difficult chord to strike correctly) while also, off the fact of that engagement, imposing their second objective. That, as a married woman - and a desirable, fertile woman at that, hence the seductive element of the gown - Persephone would likely soon birth heirs and was therefore a valid and important choice for Queen.
Basically, the entire day and nights festivities were about showing off Persephone (and by extension Xanthos) in every way she was good for - fertility, riches and royal rank. And so, she was decorated to the high heavens and would be expected to conduct herself as a queen for the whole day.
In the reflection of the glass, Persephone looked at Emilia's gown - so beautiful, flowing and elegant. And took a deep breath and felt the fabric of her own pull against her chest. Such a clear and defining example of the difference in their roles.
Taking in what breath she could, Persephone licked her lips and turned away from her appearance, intent on helping her father like her sister but the king waved her away and simply kept Emilia's arm. Knowing he was just trying to keep it from looking like he was an invalid and trying to not feel hurt by the slight, Persephone instead, followed behind the pair, intent on jumping forward should her father stumble in anyway.
But stumble he did not do.
Apparently blessed for the day by the Gods, or perhaps simply too eager to witness the spectacle of the day for himself to allow his body to dictate his actions, King Minas II left his living quarters under his own steam, the arm he had looped with his youngest daughter appearing to be one of affection over support. Persephone followed calmly, her directing her skirts with one hand and twitching the chlamys back into place with the other, feeling ostentatious without it covering the top half of her gown.
As a family unit, the three of them made their way down to the main foyer of the palace...
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Persephone smiled as her sister regressed from poised princess to little girl in the blink of an eye. Gods how she wished she could be like Emilia at times. How the princess element of her life could be something that she acted in, that she put-on. An addition to her own fully-rounded identity. As it was, Persephone had been playing princess - and in fact, Queen - since her mother passed. For over eleven years she had been "Princess Persephone", eldest daughter of the king, and she had somewhere, along the way, lost the time and desire to form any kind of understanding for who "Persephone" was. Which was why she looked at everything logically, with the objective view of what was best for her role, her rank, her family and her kingdom. It was the only way to view the world that she knew.
Emilia was different. A beautiful and elegant princess she was, when she needed to be. The rest of the time she was just Emilia - the beautiful and happy person that she was. Persephone knew that Emilia occasionally envied her; that the youngest sister saw the elder as something to aspire to. Persephone couldn't help but wish for the exact opposite for Emilia. That she continued to act as much like Persephone as possible in public, but that she never, ever become the empty role that she was.
Persephone gave herself a mental shake and took a moment to enjoy the family embrace as Emilia was folded into the three-way hug. Empty or not, her role was important, and she had no rights to complain about the way her life was going. She was to make her father proud. That was what brought her joy. And that was what she would be doing.
Breathing in and taking a relaxing exhale out, her head cushioned beneath her father's chin, and her arms wrapped around the only two people in the world she loved, Persephone smelt the deep and full-bodied scent of her father... the clean and citrus spice of her little sister... and did everything she could to permanent etch that smell into her brain. She never wanted to forget what it felt like to be a part of this family...
As the two of them pulled away, the king took a moment to press a kiss to the top of Emilia's head and offer a soft stroke to Persephone's shoulder.
Swallowing hard and stepping to check her own appearance in the mirror - she had gotten ready before entering her father's chambers - she was pleased to see that her appearance had not changed in the last few hours despite the emotional and mental overhaul she felt like she had gone through. Though she couldn't help but feel over-dressed, even for her position as first daughter of the king.
The gown she wore was startling one in a design she had never worn before. It had, according to the head seamstress, become a design fashion in Lands Afar and was seen as rich and elegant by the people when tales of such outfits were brought back by sailors and travellers. She had been a little unsure, however, as the woman had directed the outfit being placed on her body by her maids.
The first thing Persephone had had to do, standing naked in her bedchambers was raise her hands above her head and allow her ladies in waiting to run around her in circles securing the gown in place. Layers of the thinnest, most transparent cloth Persephone had ever seen had been wrapped around her body, tighter than anything else she had ever worn. The cloth, in a colour of pure gold had given her nothing over her shoulders, pulled tight against her bust and fitted her torso between armpits and her hipbones like a second skin. The cloth, while transparent had been wrapped tight and in so many layers that the lines of her body had slowly, with each passing of her ladies’ maids become blurry. The fabric had then - somehow, Persephone wasn't sure - been fastened into place and allowed to fall in great swaths of translucent material from hip-bone to several inches over the floor, ensuring that her sandals didn't show even with each step she made.
As she had assessed herself in the mirror that morning, Persephone had been very uncertain. The gown was startling and attention-drawing and gave her the appearance of being both naked and in possession of bright gold skin. Even the big bell shape of the shirts did nothing to hide the shadowy lines of her lean legs beneath. In certain lights the gown made you narrow your eyes and wonder if it was, indeed, see-through.
Despite the fact that the bright gold set off the tan of her skin to a beautiful almond shade, Persephone had been determined to wear something else - something less... provocative - when the seamstress/dresser Helen had insisted that there was a second layer to the outfit.
She had then produced a beautiful outer layer of fabric just as translucent but in the purest white, so it reflected the light. This layer, the girls had looped beneath one of her arms, leaving her left shoulder entirely bare and then fastened the two sides together over her right with an indicate piece of gold fibulae. The white sheath had fallen in two fine corners to her right hip, and the edges of the fabric had been highlighted in gold stitching. While it did little to stop the evocative style of the under dress - especially in the torso where she was squashed so much that her breasts appeared twice the size and her waist twice as thin - the white chlamys made her feel slightly more comfortable that she wasn't too on show.
On show, however, seemed to be exactly what her father wanted her to be for the big announcement as the royal dresser had then produced the jewellery that the king had already authorised.
First came the upper arm bracers. Tubes of gold that were cut and hollowed into the finest net design she had ever seen gold woven into - with leaves and flowers cut out all around its surface. These were fastened around her slim biceps and gave the semi-appearance of sleeves that started from underarm to elbow. What seemed to be a hundred gold bangles were added to each of her wrists so she couldn't move without it sounding like a rainstorm, and another hundred added to one of her ankles, where the gown's layers split slightly with each step and revealed a tan leg and ankle.
She was then given rings that ran the length of three of her fingers on the right hand and two on her left. And when she was approached with an elaborate necklace choker she put her foot down. Any more metal and she wouldn't be able to move.
Instead, the maids had focused on her hair, brushing the black locks until they shone and then fastening them on top of her hair in a thousand intricate braids. She had sat at her bureau for perhaps two hours while all five of the girls had worked on it and while it was not very hair - she hated having her hair feel like a tower on top of her head - and instead pressed closely to her head, the design was impeccable when done.
Her royal crown - the golden ivy circlet with the rise at the front was secured onto her braids and make up powder was used to darken around her eyes and shape her already defined cheekbones so that her appearance was at once beautiful and dramatic.
By the end of the arrangements, Persephone had felt so trussed up, pulled in and lavishly decorated that she might as well stand still as a statue and be called a piece of art over a human being... and she still felt that way as she looked in her father's mirror now, while her sister spoke to the king.
But she knew what her father was doing...
The events of today were two-fold. One was to show off the connection they were making with the House of Dimitrou, impressing on people their new connection to heritage and power, but also making it clear that Xanthos had enough power of their own that they were not in need of the engagement (it was a difficult chord to strike correctly) while also, off the fact of that engagement, imposing their second objective. That, as a married woman - and a desirable, fertile woman at that, hence the seductive element of the gown - Persephone would likely soon birth heirs and was therefore a valid and important choice for Queen.
Basically, the entire day and nights festivities were about showing off Persephone (and by extension Xanthos) in every way she was good for - fertility, riches and royal rank. And so, she was decorated to the high heavens and would be expected to conduct herself as a queen for the whole day.
In the reflection of the glass, Persephone looked at Emilia's gown - so beautiful, flowing and elegant. And took a deep breath and felt the fabric of her own pull against her chest. Such a clear and defining example of the difference in their roles.
Taking in what breath she could, Persephone licked her lips and turned away from her appearance, intent on helping her father like her sister but the king waved her away and simply kept Emilia's arm. Knowing he was just trying to keep it from looking like he was an invalid and trying to not feel hurt by the slight, Persephone instead, followed behind the pair, intent on jumping forward should her father stumble in anyway.
But stumble he did not do.
Apparently blessed for the day by the Gods, or perhaps simply too eager to witness the spectacle of the day for himself to allow his body to dictate his actions, King Minas II left his living quarters under his own steam, the arm he had looped with his youngest daughter appearing to be one of affection over support. Persephone followed calmly, her directing her skirts with one hand and twitching the chlamys back into place with the other, feeling ostentatious without it covering the top half of her gown.
As a family unit, the three of them made their way down to the main foyer of the palace...
Persephone smiled as her sister regressed from poised princess to little girl in the blink of an eye. Gods how she wished she could be like Emilia at times. How the princess element of her life could be something that she acted in, that she put-on. An addition to her own fully-rounded identity. As it was, Persephone had been playing princess - and in fact, Queen - since her mother passed. For over eleven years she had been "Princess Persephone", eldest daughter of the king, and she had somewhere, along the way, lost the time and desire to form any kind of understanding for who "Persephone" was. Which was why she looked at everything logically, with the objective view of what was best for her role, her rank, her family and her kingdom. It was the only way to view the world that she knew.
Emilia was different. A beautiful and elegant princess she was, when she needed to be. The rest of the time she was just Emilia - the beautiful and happy person that she was. Persephone knew that Emilia occasionally envied her; that the youngest sister saw the elder as something to aspire to. Persephone couldn't help but wish for the exact opposite for Emilia. That she continued to act as much like Persephone as possible in public, but that she never, ever become the empty role that she was.
Persephone gave herself a mental shake and took a moment to enjoy the family embrace as Emilia was folded into the three-way hug. Empty or not, her role was important, and she had no rights to complain about the way her life was going. She was to make her father proud. That was what brought her joy. And that was what she would be doing.
Breathing in and taking a relaxing exhale out, her head cushioned beneath her father's chin, and her arms wrapped around the only two people in the world she loved, Persephone smelt the deep and full-bodied scent of her father... the clean and citrus spice of her little sister... and did everything she could to permanent etch that smell into her brain. She never wanted to forget what it felt like to be a part of this family...
As the two of them pulled away, the king took a moment to press a kiss to the top of Emilia's head and offer a soft stroke to Persephone's shoulder.
Swallowing hard and stepping to check her own appearance in the mirror - she had gotten ready before entering her father's chambers - she was pleased to see that her appearance had not changed in the last few hours despite the emotional and mental overhaul she felt like she had gone through. Though she couldn't help but feel over-dressed, even for her position as first daughter of the king.
The gown she wore was startling one in a design she had never worn before. It had, according to the head seamstress, become a design fashion in Lands Afar and was seen as rich and elegant by the people when tales of such outfits were brought back by sailors and travellers. She had been a little unsure, however, as the woman had directed the outfit being placed on her body by her maids.
The first thing Persephone had had to do, standing naked in her bedchambers was raise her hands above her head and allow her ladies in waiting to run around her in circles securing the gown in place. Layers of the thinnest, most transparent cloth Persephone had ever seen had been wrapped around her body, tighter than anything else she had ever worn. The cloth, in a colour of pure gold had given her nothing over her shoulders, pulled tight against her bust and fitted her torso between armpits and her hipbones like a second skin. The cloth, while transparent had been wrapped tight and in so many layers that the lines of her body had slowly, with each passing of her ladies’ maids become blurry. The fabric had then - somehow, Persephone wasn't sure - been fastened into place and allowed to fall in great swaths of translucent material from hip-bone to several inches over the floor, ensuring that her sandals didn't show even with each step she made.
As she had assessed herself in the mirror that morning, Persephone had been very uncertain. The gown was startling and attention-drawing and gave her the appearance of being both naked and in possession of bright gold skin. Even the big bell shape of the shirts did nothing to hide the shadowy lines of her lean legs beneath. In certain lights the gown made you narrow your eyes and wonder if it was, indeed, see-through.
Despite the fact that the bright gold set off the tan of her skin to a beautiful almond shade, Persephone had been determined to wear something else - something less... provocative - when the seamstress/dresser Helen had insisted that there was a second layer to the outfit.
She had then produced a beautiful outer layer of fabric just as translucent but in the purest white, so it reflected the light. This layer, the girls had looped beneath one of her arms, leaving her left shoulder entirely bare and then fastened the two sides together over her right with an indicate piece of gold fibulae. The white sheath had fallen in two fine corners to her right hip, and the edges of the fabric had been highlighted in gold stitching. While it did little to stop the evocative style of the under dress - especially in the torso where she was squashed so much that her breasts appeared twice the size and her waist twice as thin - the white chlamys made her feel slightly more comfortable that she wasn't too on show.
On show, however, seemed to be exactly what her father wanted her to be for the big announcement as the royal dresser had then produced the jewellery that the king had already authorised.
First came the upper arm bracers. Tubes of gold that were cut and hollowed into the finest net design she had ever seen gold woven into - with leaves and flowers cut out all around its surface. These were fastened around her slim biceps and gave the semi-appearance of sleeves that started from underarm to elbow. What seemed to be a hundred gold bangles were added to each of her wrists so she couldn't move without it sounding like a rainstorm, and another hundred added to one of her ankles, where the gown's layers split slightly with each step and revealed a tan leg and ankle.
She was then given rings that ran the length of three of her fingers on the right hand and two on her left. And when she was approached with an elaborate necklace choker she put her foot down. Any more metal and she wouldn't be able to move.
Instead, the maids had focused on her hair, brushing the black locks until they shone and then fastening them on top of her hair in a thousand intricate braids. She had sat at her bureau for perhaps two hours while all five of the girls had worked on it and while it was not very hair - she hated having her hair feel like a tower on top of her head - and instead pressed closely to her head, the design was impeccable when done.
Her royal crown - the golden ivy circlet with the rise at the front was secured onto her braids and make up powder was used to darken around her eyes and shape her already defined cheekbones so that her appearance was at once beautiful and dramatic.
By the end of the arrangements, Persephone had felt so trussed up, pulled in and lavishly decorated that she might as well stand still as a statue and be called a piece of art over a human being... and she still felt that way as she looked in her father's mirror now, while her sister spoke to the king.
But she knew what her father was doing...
The events of today were two-fold. One was to show off the connection they were making with the House of Dimitrou, impressing on people their new connection to heritage and power, but also making it clear that Xanthos had enough power of their own that they were not in need of the engagement (it was a difficult chord to strike correctly) while also, off the fact of that engagement, imposing their second objective. That, as a married woman - and a desirable, fertile woman at that, hence the seductive element of the gown - Persephone would likely soon birth heirs and was therefore a valid and important choice for Queen.
Basically, the entire day and nights festivities were about showing off Persephone (and by extension Xanthos) in every way she was good for - fertility, riches and royal rank. And so, she was decorated to the high heavens and would be expected to conduct herself as a queen for the whole day.
In the reflection of the glass, Persephone looked at Emilia's gown - so beautiful, flowing and elegant. And took a deep breath and felt the fabric of her own pull against her chest. Such a clear and defining example of the difference in their roles.
Taking in what breath she could, Persephone licked her lips and turned away from her appearance, intent on helping her father like her sister but the king waved her away and simply kept Emilia's arm. Knowing he was just trying to keep it from looking like he was an invalid and trying to not feel hurt by the slight, Persephone instead, followed behind the pair, intent on jumping forward should her father stumble in anyway.
But stumble he did not do.
Apparently blessed for the day by the Gods, or perhaps simply too eager to witness the spectacle of the day for himself to allow his body to dictate his actions, King Minas II left his living quarters under his own steam, the arm he had looped with his youngest daughter appearing to be one of affection over support. Persephone followed calmly, her directing her skirts with one hand and twitching the chlamys back into place with the other, feeling ostentatious without it covering the top half of her gown.
As a family unit, the three of them made their way down to the main foyer of the palace...
It’s been about four weeks since he has left Taengea to meet with the Princess Persephone - his future wife - and he has not been back since. Of course, this was to be expected, he knew he would be away from his home, his friends and his family for quite a while as soon as he accepted his father’s offer and he was prepared for it. After all, it was not the first time. However, having left right after the incident with The Creed has made this time different and the difficulties his House - along with the rest of Taengea - were facing weighed on him quite a bit and it frustrated him that he was miles away from it all. Despite his father’s constant reassurance and letters from Chaoedia assuring him that they have taken every precaution, he still couldn’t help but feel he was standing in the wrong place.
Though, despite the gut wrenching feeling he got when thinking back on the events during the chariot race, he still knew he was right where he was supposed to be. Iason no longer only had Taengea and his House to worry and care about, he had added Athenia and the House of Xanthos to that list and was aware of how much today would mean for them all. After today everyone will know that the son of House Dimitrou, a House which had stayed within the shadows for quite some time, is making a move toward a crown. If the Senate vote goes according to plan, Persephone will inherit the throne and he would therefore be crowned the new King of Athenia. How other royal Houses would take to the news of someone from another Kingdom sitting on the throne of theirs… he did not know, but he had a pretty good idea.
Over the last few weeks he has met with Princess Persephone and King Minas several times. Iason could only hope he had made a good impression on the King, and, of course, on the Princess herself. She was beautiful, smart and certainly knew how to handle herself when it came to politics; something he was greatly impressed by, but not so much surprised by. For someone who lived a life such as hers it was only natural to take on more of the political strain, but to Iason, it was as if she was made for it, and she often went further than most people would, a quality he appreciated. He respected her for that, but he grew fond of her because of her heart and of what he saw of it over the course of his stay.
Iason stood in front of the giant mirror in his chambers, a chambermaid fastening the belt around his waist when the guards opened the doors of the room to a servant who announced that he would be meeting the King and the Princesses in the main foyer. “Thank you,” he nodded towards the servant and turned towards one of the guards not far behind him. The hoplite was different from the rest; his metal armour was shaped to his chest, decorated with more gold than the rest and he wore a cape of stag fur. Iason knew him very well, he was a Captain among the soldiers who were devoted to the House of Dimitrou and he would even call the man a close friend. ”Well?” Iason held his hands out in front of himself in question, an unsure expression upon his features.
Back in Taengea Iason rarely wore fancy, formal clothing and would only really do so when he had to go to court or events. It was not an uncommon sight to see the young Lord in riding pants and a plain shirt, or even in his armour and dirt and sweat on his face. However, during these past few weeks all he’s been wearing were togas and chlamyses and sashes, something he often felt restricted and, quite honestly, uncomfortable in. Today he was in a white toga that stropped just above his ankles. The sleeves were long, but they ended below the elbow and a golden pattern upon a bronze, smooth, sheen fabric lined the edges of the toga. Over his left shoulder a bronze sash was draped, the edges lined with the same golden pattern and it fell at knee length. Then, to make the outfit complete, a belt of the same bronze, golden patterned material was wrapped around his waist, lapping over the sash and bringing it all in to show off his form a bit more.
”You look dashing, my Lord.” The guard responded with a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. ”Dashing? Really?” Iason grinned mockingly, rolling his eyes. The chambermaid came toward him with the sandals in hand and before she could bent down held out a hand, stopping her ”No need, I’ll put them on myself, thank you.” he offered her a reassuring smile and she reluctantly handed them over. Making his way toward a chair with the pair of sandals in hand he took a seat with a soft sigh. ”I know a thousand others will be looking out for the King today,” he spoke while securing the straps ”I want you to do the same. All while, of course, fulfilling your other duties.” he stood up, placing a hand upon the guard’s shoulder ”If that’s not too difficult?” he grinned, mocking the man in front of him playfully, but he was completely serious. The memory of King Zenon’s fate still lingered in his thoughts, and Iason didn’t trust anyone more than the man in front of him,. ”You are going to be late.” the man replied with a dry tone, clearly resisting the urge to shrug Iason’s hand from his shoulder.
Stepping into the main foyer, a string of guards close behind and soon taking their respective places, he stood, waiting for his future to arrive. For a moment he allowed himself to think about the King and his illness, in truth, preparing himself. He has only met with the King once or twice, both times King Minas seemed to be fairly alright. However, Iason could see he was far from it, and respected the man even more for the strength he shown in times like those. Although he often tried to forget, to at least block out the memory of his mother at her worst, he could still remember the days where she could barely get out of bed during the late stages of her pregnancy with Alexa. Iason could not even begin to imagine how the King felt, but here he was, walking toward him with his youngest daughter by his side as if there were no worry in the world.
Iason stood up straight and so did all the guards in the room, he bowed upon their approach “Your Majesties.” He rose and upon doing so he caught sight of Princess Persephone who came from behind the King and Princess Emilia and he almost forgot to breathe. She was, as always, beautiful, but today was as if the Gods themselves dressed her. It was… unexpected, but considering what they hoped to achieve today, it shouldn’t have been. He stepped closer towards her, taking her hand within his, gently placing a kiss upon her knuckles “Princess,” he greeted, smiling warmly “You look… breath taking.” He grinned and turned toward Emilia, his bride-to-be’s younger sister who he has not yet met.
When the King first approached with the young Princess in arm he couldn’t help but think about his own sisters, specifically Alexa. Although vastly different, something he could see straight away, she still reminded him of the young, innocent and, frankly, wild sibling waiting for him back home. He took her hand in his as she offered it to him “Princess Emilia,” he greeted once again, smiling before he placed a quick kiss upon her knuckles and then returning her hand to her side “it’s a great pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard quite the stories.” He grinned playfully, glancing toward Persephone who, obviously, was the source of them all.
JD
Staff Team
JD
Staff Team
This post was created by our staff team.
Please contact us with your queries and questions.
It’s been about four weeks since he has left Taengea to meet with the Princess Persephone - his future wife - and he has not been back since. Of course, this was to be expected, he knew he would be away from his home, his friends and his family for quite a while as soon as he accepted his father’s offer and he was prepared for it. After all, it was not the first time. However, having left right after the incident with The Creed has made this time different and the difficulties his House - along with the rest of Taengea - were facing weighed on him quite a bit and it frustrated him that he was miles away from it all. Despite his father’s constant reassurance and letters from Chaoedia assuring him that they have taken every precaution, he still couldn’t help but feel he was standing in the wrong place.
Though, despite the gut wrenching feeling he got when thinking back on the events during the chariot race, he still knew he was right where he was supposed to be. Iason no longer only had Taengea and his House to worry and care about, he had added Athenia and the House of Xanthos to that list and was aware of how much today would mean for them all. After today everyone will know that the son of House Dimitrou, a House which had stayed within the shadows for quite some time, is making a move toward a crown. If the Senate vote goes according to plan, Persephone will inherit the throne and he would therefore be crowned the new King of Athenia. How other royal Houses would take to the news of someone from another Kingdom sitting on the throne of theirs… he did not know, but he had a pretty good idea.
Over the last few weeks he has met with Princess Persephone and King Minas several times. Iason could only hope he had made a good impression on the King, and, of course, on the Princess herself. She was beautiful, smart and certainly knew how to handle herself when it came to politics; something he was greatly impressed by, but not so much surprised by. For someone who lived a life such as hers it was only natural to take on more of the political strain, but to Iason, it was as if she was made for it, and she often went further than most people would, a quality he appreciated. He respected her for that, but he grew fond of her because of her heart and of what he saw of it over the course of his stay.
Iason stood in front of the giant mirror in his chambers, a chambermaid fastening the belt around his waist when the guards opened the doors of the room to a servant who announced that he would be meeting the King and the Princesses in the main foyer. “Thank you,” he nodded towards the servant and turned towards one of the guards not far behind him. The hoplite was different from the rest; his metal armour was shaped to his chest, decorated with more gold than the rest and he wore a cape of stag fur. Iason knew him very well, he was a Captain among the soldiers who were devoted to the House of Dimitrou and he would even call the man a close friend. ”Well?” Iason held his hands out in front of himself in question, an unsure expression upon his features.
Back in Taengea Iason rarely wore fancy, formal clothing and would only really do so when he had to go to court or events. It was not an uncommon sight to see the young Lord in riding pants and a plain shirt, or even in his armour and dirt and sweat on his face. However, during these past few weeks all he’s been wearing were togas and chlamyses and sashes, something he often felt restricted and, quite honestly, uncomfortable in. Today he was in a white toga that stropped just above his ankles. The sleeves were long, but they ended below the elbow and a golden pattern upon a bronze, smooth, sheen fabric lined the edges of the toga. Over his left shoulder a bronze sash was draped, the edges lined with the same golden pattern and it fell at knee length. Then, to make the outfit complete, a belt of the same bronze, golden patterned material was wrapped around his waist, lapping over the sash and bringing it all in to show off his form a bit more.
”You look dashing, my Lord.” The guard responded with a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. ”Dashing? Really?” Iason grinned mockingly, rolling his eyes. The chambermaid came toward him with the sandals in hand and before she could bent down held out a hand, stopping her ”No need, I’ll put them on myself, thank you.” he offered her a reassuring smile and she reluctantly handed them over. Making his way toward a chair with the pair of sandals in hand he took a seat with a soft sigh. ”I know a thousand others will be looking out for the King today,” he spoke while securing the straps ”I want you to do the same. All while, of course, fulfilling your other duties.” he stood up, placing a hand upon the guard’s shoulder ”If that’s not too difficult?” he grinned, mocking the man in front of him playfully, but he was completely serious. The memory of King Zenon’s fate still lingered in his thoughts, and Iason didn’t trust anyone more than the man in front of him,. ”You are going to be late.” the man replied with a dry tone, clearly resisting the urge to shrug Iason’s hand from his shoulder.
Stepping into the main foyer, a string of guards close behind and soon taking their respective places, he stood, waiting for his future to arrive. For a moment he allowed himself to think about the King and his illness, in truth, preparing himself. He has only met with the King once or twice, both times King Minas seemed to be fairly alright. However, Iason could see he was far from it, and respected the man even more for the strength he shown in times like those. Although he often tried to forget, to at least block out the memory of his mother at her worst, he could still remember the days where she could barely get out of bed during the late stages of her pregnancy with Alexa. Iason could not even begin to imagine how the King felt, but here he was, walking toward him with his youngest daughter by his side as if there were no worry in the world.
Iason stood up straight and so did all the guards in the room, he bowed upon their approach “Your Majesties.” He rose and upon doing so he caught sight of Princess Persephone who came from behind the King and Princess Emilia and he almost forgot to breathe. She was, as always, beautiful, but today was as if the Gods themselves dressed her. It was… unexpected, but considering what they hoped to achieve today, it shouldn’t have been. He stepped closer towards her, taking her hand within his, gently placing a kiss upon her knuckles “Princess,” he greeted, smiling warmly “You look… breath taking.” He grinned and turned toward Emilia, his bride-to-be’s younger sister who he has not yet met.
When the King first approached with the young Princess in arm he couldn’t help but think about his own sisters, specifically Alexa. Although vastly different, something he could see straight away, she still reminded him of the young, innocent and, frankly, wild sibling waiting for him back home. He took her hand in his as she offered it to him “Princess Emilia,” he greeted once again, smiling before he placed a quick kiss upon her knuckles and then returning her hand to her side “it’s a great pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard quite the stories.” He grinned playfully, glancing toward Persephone who, obviously, was the source of them all.
It’s been about four weeks since he has left Taengea to meet with the Princess Persephone - his future wife - and he has not been back since. Of course, this was to be expected, he knew he would be away from his home, his friends and his family for quite a while as soon as he accepted his father’s offer and he was prepared for it. After all, it was not the first time. However, having left right after the incident with The Creed has made this time different and the difficulties his House - along with the rest of Taengea - were facing weighed on him quite a bit and it frustrated him that he was miles away from it all. Despite his father’s constant reassurance and letters from Chaoedia assuring him that they have taken every precaution, he still couldn’t help but feel he was standing in the wrong place.
Though, despite the gut wrenching feeling he got when thinking back on the events during the chariot race, he still knew he was right where he was supposed to be. Iason no longer only had Taengea and his House to worry and care about, he had added Athenia and the House of Xanthos to that list and was aware of how much today would mean for them all. After today everyone will know that the son of House Dimitrou, a House which had stayed within the shadows for quite some time, is making a move toward a crown. If the Senate vote goes according to plan, Persephone will inherit the throne and he would therefore be crowned the new King of Athenia. How other royal Houses would take to the news of someone from another Kingdom sitting on the throne of theirs… he did not know, but he had a pretty good idea.
Over the last few weeks he has met with Princess Persephone and King Minas several times. Iason could only hope he had made a good impression on the King, and, of course, on the Princess herself. She was beautiful, smart and certainly knew how to handle herself when it came to politics; something he was greatly impressed by, but not so much surprised by. For someone who lived a life such as hers it was only natural to take on more of the political strain, but to Iason, it was as if she was made for it, and she often went further than most people would, a quality he appreciated. He respected her for that, but he grew fond of her because of her heart and of what he saw of it over the course of his stay.
Iason stood in front of the giant mirror in his chambers, a chambermaid fastening the belt around his waist when the guards opened the doors of the room to a servant who announced that he would be meeting the King and the Princesses in the main foyer. “Thank you,” he nodded towards the servant and turned towards one of the guards not far behind him. The hoplite was different from the rest; his metal armour was shaped to his chest, decorated with more gold than the rest and he wore a cape of stag fur. Iason knew him very well, he was a Captain among the soldiers who were devoted to the House of Dimitrou and he would even call the man a close friend. ”Well?” Iason held his hands out in front of himself in question, an unsure expression upon his features.
Back in Taengea Iason rarely wore fancy, formal clothing and would only really do so when he had to go to court or events. It was not an uncommon sight to see the young Lord in riding pants and a plain shirt, or even in his armour and dirt and sweat on his face. However, during these past few weeks all he’s been wearing were togas and chlamyses and sashes, something he often felt restricted and, quite honestly, uncomfortable in. Today he was in a white toga that stropped just above his ankles. The sleeves were long, but they ended below the elbow and a golden pattern upon a bronze, smooth, sheen fabric lined the edges of the toga. Over his left shoulder a bronze sash was draped, the edges lined with the same golden pattern and it fell at knee length. Then, to make the outfit complete, a belt of the same bronze, golden patterned material was wrapped around his waist, lapping over the sash and bringing it all in to show off his form a bit more.
”You look dashing, my Lord.” The guard responded with a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. ”Dashing? Really?” Iason grinned mockingly, rolling his eyes. The chambermaid came toward him with the sandals in hand and before she could bent down held out a hand, stopping her ”No need, I’ll put them on myself, thank you.” he offered her a reassuring smile and she reluctantly handed them over. Making his way toward a chair with the pair of sandals in hand he took a seat with a soft sigh. ”I know a thousand others will be looking out for the King today,” he spoke while securing the straps ”I want you to do the same. All while, of course, fulfilling your other duties.” he stood up, placing a hand upon the guard’s shoulder ”If that’s not too difficult?” he grinned, mocking the man in front of him playfully, but he was completely serious. The memory of King Zenon’s fate still lingered in his thoughts, and Iason didn’t trust anyone more than the man in front of him,. ”You are going to be late.” the man replied with a dry tone, clearly resisting the urge to shrug Iason’s hand from his shoulder.
Stepping into the main foyer, a string of guards close behind and soon taking their respective places, he stood, waiting for his future to arrive. For a moment he allowed himself to think about the King and his illness, in truth, preparing himself. He has only met with the King once or twice, both times King Minas seemed to be fairly alright. However, Iason could see he was far from it, and respected the man even more for the strength he shown in times like those. Although he often tried to forget, to at least block out the memory of his mother at her worst, he could still remember the days where she could barely get out of bed during the late stages of her pregnancy with Alexa. Iason could not even begin to imagine how the King felt, but here he was, walking toward him with his youngest daughter by his side as if there were no worry in the world.
Iason stood up straight and so did all the guards in the room, he bowed upon their approach “Your Majesties.” He rose and upon doing so he caught sight of Princess Persephone who came from behind the King and Princess Emilia and he almost forgot to breathe. She was, as always, beautiful, but today was as if the Gods themselves dressed her. It was… unexpected, but considering what they hoped to achieve today, it shouldn’t have been. He stepped closer towards her, taking her hand within his, gently placing a kiss upon her knuckles “Princess,” he greeted, smiling warmly “You look… breath taking.” He grinned and turned toward Emilia, his bride-to-be’s younger sister who he has not yet met.
When the King first approached with the young Princess in arm he couldn’t help but think about his own sisters, specifically Alexa. Although vastly different, something he could see straight away, she still reminded him of the young, innocent and, frankly, wild sibling waiting for him back home. He took her hand in his as she offered it to him “Princess Emilia,” he greeted once again, smiling before he placed a quick kiss upon her knuckles and then returning her hand to her side “it’s a great pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard quite the stories.” He grinned playfully, glancing toward Persephone who, obviously, was the source of them all.
While she wished she could be perpetually as poised and as graceful as her sister at all times, Emilia was, at the heart of it all, only a sixteen year old girl. She was young, and still had much to learn, but she tried her best at being the pillar she knew Persephone would need, especially when both sisters faced the very imminent danger of losing their father in due time, very soon.
As they exited the room, Emilia couldn't help but look over Persephone's outfit (as she was wont to do), and frowned at the amount of .... gold that her sister wore. While she had a superior sense of fashion, Emilia had never been one who favored excessive showcases of wealth. The colors and outfit that Helen had dressed Persephone in had been handpicked by Emilia, the design which she had instructed to be made with the head seamstresses when she saw it arriving in the docks of Athenia just a week prior, from the Lands Afar. It had been decided with the thought of her father's aim in mind. 'Your sister needs to shine.' he had said, the evening before when she had visited the King, and so she picked the ones that would make her shine.
But the jewelry... that, Emilia knew, was her father's doing. She disagreed with King Minas literally bathing Persephone in gold, and instead believed that her sister was beautiful without all the extravagance showered on her... yet as the youngest, Emilia knew better, and instead kept her mouth shut as she was led out on her father's arm.
Her head was bent as they entered the main foyer, it wasn't until she heard a voice, did Emilia look up. Almost immediately, her eyes narrowed at the male in question, the very first time she was meeting who was supposed to be her sister's betrothed : the Lord Iason of Dimitrou.
She knew, she was not supposed to be judgemental. Persephone had spoken to her, King Minas had coaxed her, Emilia had even ranted her irritation at Helen who had tried to convince her otherwise, but none of that would wash away the young princesses suspicions to this male. He did not love her sister, and that alone was not enough in Emilia's eyes.
Watching warily at the male as he greeted his bride-to-be, Emilia winced when she felt a light squeeze on her hand, and looked up to her father's raised brow, and the low warning in his voice as he spoke. "Emilia, you're wearing your look." he gravelly murmured, and she pursed her lips. "I still don't think he suits Sissy, Father. She deserves-"
"She has a duty, you would do well to remember that, little one." he responded, cutting her off.
And she knew her father had a point. So with a deep breathe, Emilia forced a small smile on her face when Iason turned to face her, not reacting as he placed a kiss on her knuckles, but not at all responding to his playful grin. Instead, Emilia raised a skeptical brow, not even looking at Persephone as she responded. "Lord Iason, it is... a pleasure to meet you, as well. My sister's wellbeing means... a great deal to me." Her tone was even, but held an undercurrent of a warning to it, not even waiting for a response from the lord as she turned to her sister with a bright smile "Shall we?"
She knew she was being a tad bit rude, but Emilia was highly overprotective over her only sibling, and as such made it clear that if anything were to happen, she would stop at nothing to ensure Persephone's happiness.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
While she wished she could be perpetually as poised and as graceful as her sister at all times, Emilia was, at the heart of it all, only a sixteen year old girl. She was young, and still had much to learn, but she tried her best at being the pillar she knew Persephone would need, especially when both sisters faced the very imminent danger of losing their father in due time, very soon.
As they exited the room, Emilia couldn't help but look over Persephone's outfit (as she was wont to do), and frowned at the amount of .... gold that her sister wore. While she had a superior sense of fashion, Emilia had never been one who favored excessive showcases of wealth. The colors and outfit that Helen had dressed Persephone in had been handpicked by Emilia, the design which she had instructed to be made with the head seamstresses when she saw it arriving in the docks of Athenia just a week prior, from the Lands Afar. It had been decided with the thought of her father's aim in mind. 'Your sister needs to shine.' he had said, the evening before when she had visited the King, and so she picked the ones that would make her shine.
But the jewelry... that, Emilia knew, was her father's doing. She disagreed with King Minas literally bathing Persephone in gold, and instead believed that her sister was beautiful without all the extravagance showered on her... yet as the youngest, Emilia knew better, and instead kept her mouth shut as she was led out on her father's arm.
Her head was bent as they entered the main foyer, it wasn't until she heard a voice, did Emilia look up. Almost immediately, her eyes narrowed at the male in question, the very first time she was meeting who was supposed to be her sister's betrothed : the Lord Iason of Dimitrou.
She knew, she was not supposed to be judgemental. Persephone had spoken to her, King Minas had coaxed her, Emilia had even ranted her irritation at Helen who had tried to convince her otherwise, but none of that would wash away the young princesses suspicions to this male. He did not love her sister, and that alone was not enough in Emilia's eyes.
Watching warily at the male as he greeted his bride-to-be, Emilia winced when she felt a light squeeze on her hand, and looked up to her father's raised brow, and the low warning in his voice as he spoke. "Emilia, you're wearing your look." he gravelly murmured, and she pursed her lips. "I still don't think he suits Sissy, Father. She deserves-"
"She has a duty, you would do well to remember that, little one." he responded, cutting her off.
And she knew her father had a point. So with a deep breathe, Emilia forced a small smile on her face when Iason turned to face her, not reacting as he placed a kiss on her knuckles, but not at all responding to his playful grin. Instead, Emilia raised a skeptical brow, not even looking at Persephone as she responded. "Lord Iason, it is... a pleasure to meet you, as well. My sister's wellbeing means... a great deal to me." Her tone was even, but held an undercurrent of a warning to it, not even waiting for a response from the lord as she turned to her sister with a bright smile "Shall we?"
She knew she was being a tad bit rude, but Emilia was highly overprotective over her only sibling, and as such made it clear that if anything were to happen, she would stop at nothing to ensure Persephone's happiness.
While she wished she could be perpetually as poised and as graceful as her sister at all times, Emilia was, at the heart of it all, only a sixteen year old girl. She was young, and still had much to learn, but she tried her best at being the pillar she knew Persephone would need, especially when both sisters faced the very imminent danger of losing their father in due time, very soon.
As they exited the room, Emilia couldn't help but look over Persephone's outfit (as she was wont to do), and frowned at the amount of .... gold that her sister wore. While she had a superior sense of fashion, Emilia had never been one who favored excessive showcases of wealth. The colors and outfit that Helen had dressed Persephone in had been handpicked by Emilia, the design which she had instructed to be made with the head seamstresses when she saw it arriving in the docks of Athenia just a week prior, from the Lands Afar. It had been decided with the thought of her father's aim in mind. 'Your sister needs to shine.' he had said, the evening before when she had visited the King, and so she picked the ones that would make her shine.
But the jewelry... that, Emilia knew, was her father's doing. She disagreed with King Minas literally bathing Persephone in gold, and instead believed that her sister was beautiful without all the extravagance showered on her... yet as the youngest, Emilia knew better, and instead kept her mouth shut as she was led out on her father's arm.
Her head was bent as they entered the main foyer, it wasn't until she heard a voice, did Emilia look up. Almost immediately, her eyes narrowed at the male in question, the very first time she was meeting who was supposed to be her sister's betrothed : the Lord Iason of Dimitrou.
She knew, she was not supposed to be judgemental. Persephone had spoken to her, King Minas had coaxed her, Emilia had even ranted her irritation at Helen who had tried to convince her otherwise, but none of that would wash away the young princesses suspicions to this male. He did not love her sister, and that alone was not enough in Emilia's eyes.
Watching warily at the male as he greeted his bride-to-be, Emilia winced when she felt a light squeeze on her hand, and looked up to her father's raised brow, and the low warning in his voice as he spoke. "Emilia, you're wearing your look." he gravelly murmured, and she pursed her lips. "I still don't think he suits Sissy, Father. She deserves-"
"She has a duty, you would do well to remember that, little one." he responded, cutting her off.
And she knew her father had a point. So with a deep breathe, Emilia forced a small smile on her face when Iason turned to face her, not reacting as he placed a kiss on her knuckles, but not at all responding to his playful grin. Instead, Emilia raised a skeptical brow, not even looking at Persephone as she responded. "Lord Iason, it is... a pleasure to meet you, as well. My sister's wellbeing means... a great deal to me." Her tone was even, but held an undercurrent of a warning to it, not even waiting for a response from the lord as she turned to her sister with a bright smile "Shall we?"
She knew she was being a tad bit rude, but Emilia was highly overprotective over her only sibling, and as such made it clear that if anything were to happen, she would stop at nothing to ensure Persephone's happiness.
Persephone felt awkward descending the stairs in a dress that was a different fit to anything she had worn before. That being said, her legs were mostly free to walk as normal and the tight bodice of the gown simply kept her posture at its most poised, regardless of how she attempted to look down to slouch for even the finest of moments. Clearly the outfit was designed for show in more ways than just its colour.
As they approached the bottom of the stares and Persephone moved from behind her father and sister to stand beside them, the woman within her felt a strong sense of pride at the look on Lord Iason's face... and the compliment that left his lips.
With a small smile of thanks, Persephone nodded her head graciously.
"I thank you Lord Iason." She told him before her smile widened and her eyes brightened. "I am afraid your responsibilities today will include ensuring I stay away from large bodies of water..." She joked, in an effort to disperse the intensity in the air. Today was going to be hard enough to get through without the four of them being uncomfortable around each other. "With all of this excessive, I fear I shall sink." She explained, with a raised hand to indicate her bracelets.
Taking the time to assess the lord of Dimitrou's own outfit, she found it amusing that the royal seamstress had clearly designed and implemented his own outfit to fit herself - or vice versa. In predominantly white and bronze, the additional curls and flourishes of gold in the patterning were complimentary to her own gown and she had to admit that it was likely they would make an impressive pair, standing in the royal box of the Arcus. Both dark haired, both tanned in skin tone - hers from heritage and his from long hours in the sun - and with white and gold outfits that befit the Gods... the two of them would set tongues ablaze, she was sure.
Holding out her arm to be escorted by her new fiancé, Persephone returned his compliments in all sincerity.
"You look very elegant yourself, my lord." She told him, with another smile. "I know this type of attire is not comfortable for you but the cut of this gown is strange to me also... Perhaps we can take comfort in the idea that we are both as awkward as one another?"
Giving her sister a sharp look as Emilia was not exactly rude to the Lord but not exactly welcoming either, she fell into line to follow her father and sister, allowing the monarch to precede her out of the door.
The carriages they had organised for the day were larger than their normal vessels. Lacquered pitch black with white and gold flourishes and additions, the wings of a swan on each door, the four carriages that had been settled into the courtyard - with four horses a piece - were as excessive and for show as the newly betrothed's outfits.
Taking a steadying breath (or as much of one as she could in her gown) Persephone watched as her father made clear who would be sitting within each carriage; He, his youngest daughter and two of his advisers would be taking the first, Persephone, Iason and her maid Amynta would be taking the second - for all intents and purposes, the most private the newly engaged couple could get - and the last two would include the retinue (maids to both the princesses and the king). Guards would be walking and jogging alongside the parade, between the royal palace and the arcus, where the festivities were due to begin.
Once settled in the carriage, and alone with Lord Iason barring her standard head maid Amynta (a woman who was both friend and shadow to the princess more or less at all times), Persephone was unsure how to begin conversation as they would have perhaps twenty minutes before they arrived at the stadium.
"This is the first time I have done something such as this." She started by admitting unnecessarily - as all in the carriage were fully aware. "I hope you shall not let me falter, Lord Iason?"
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Persephone felt awkward descending the stairs in a dress that was a different fit to anything she had worn before. That being said, her legs were mostly free to walk as normal and the tight bodice of the gown simply kept her posture at its most poised, regardless of how she attempted to look down to slouch for even the finest of moments. Clearly the outfit was designed for show in more ways than just its colour.
As they approached the bottom of the stares and Persephone moved from behind her father and sister to stand beside them, the woman within her felt a strong sense of pride at the look on Lord Iason's face... and the compliment that left his lips.
With a small smile of thanks, Persephone nodded her head graciously.
"I thank you Lord Iason." She told him before her smile widened and her eyes brightened. "I am afraid your responsibilities today will include ensuring I stay away from large bodies of water..." She joked, in an effort to disperse the intensity in the air. Today was going to be hard enough to get through without the four of them being uncomfortable around each other. "With all of this excessive, I fear I shall sink." She explained, with a raised hand to indicate her bracelets.
Taking the time to assess the lord of Dimitrou's own outfit, she found it amusing that the royal seamstress had clearly designed and implemented his own outfit to fit herself - or vice versa. In predominantly white and bronze, the additional curls and flourishes of gold in the patterning were complimentary to her own gown and she had to admit that it was likely they would make an impressive pair, standing in the royal box of the Arcus. Both dark haired, both tanned in skin tone - hers from heritage and his from long hours in the sun - and with white and gold outfits that befit the Gods... the two of them would set tongues ablaze, she was sure.
Holding out her arm to be escorted by her new fiancé, Persephone returned his compliments in all sincerity.
"You look very elegant yourself, my lord." She told him, with another smile. "I know this type of attire is not comfortable for you but the cut of this gown is strange to me also... Perhaps we can take comfort in the idea that we are both as awkward as one another?"
Giving her sister a sharp look as Emilia was not exactly rude to the Lord but not exactly welcoming either, she fell into line to follow her father and sister, allowing the monarch to precede her out of the door.
The carriages they had organised for the day were larger than their normal vessels. Lacquered pitch black with white and gold flourishes and additions, the wings of a swan on each door, the four carriages that had been settled into the courtyard - with four horses a piece - were as excessive and for show as the newly betrothed's outfits.
Taking a steadying breath (or as much of one as she could in her gown) Persephone watched as her father made clear who would be sitting within each carriage; He, his youngest daughter and two of his advisers would be taking the first, Persephone, Iason and her maid Amynta would be taking the second - for all intents and purposes, the most private the newly engaged couple could get - and the last two would include the retinue (maids to both the princesses and the king). Guards would be walking and jogging alongside the parade, between the royal palace and the arcus, where the festivities were due to begin.
Once settled in the carriage, and alone with Lord Iason barring her standard head maid Amynta (a woman who was both friend and shadow to the princess more or less at all times), Persephone was unsure how to begin conversation as they would have perhaps twenty minutes before they arrived at the stadium.
"This is the first time I have done something such as this." She started by admitting unnecessarily - as all in the carriage were fully aware. "I hope you shall not let me falter, Lord Iason?"
Persephone felt awkward descending the stairs in a dress that was a different fit to anything she had worn before. That being said, her legs were mostly free to walk as normal and the tight bodice of the gown simply kept her posture at its most poised, regardless of how she attempted to look down to slouch for even the finest of moments. Clearly the outfit was designed for show in more ways than just its colour.
As they approached the bottom of the stares and Persephone moved from behind her father and sister to stand beside them, the woman within her felt a strong sense of pride at the look on Lord Iason's face... and the compliment that left his lips.
With a small smile of thanks, Persephone nodded her head graciously.
"I thank you Lord Iason." She told him before her smile widened and her eyes brightened. "I am afraid your responsibilities today will include ensuring I stay away from large bodies of water..." She joked, in an effort to disperse the intensity in the air. Today was going to be hard enough to get through without the four of them being uncomfortable around each other. "With all of this excessive, I fear I shall sink." She explained, with a raised hand to indicate her bracelets.
Taking the time to assess the lord of Dimitrou's own outfit, she found it amusing that the royal seamstress had clearly designed and implemented his own outfit to fit herself - or vice versa. In predominantly white and bronze, the additional curls and flourishes of gold in the patterning were complimentary to her own gown and she had to admit that it was likely they would make an impressive pair, standing in the royal box of the Arcus. Both dark haired, both tanned in skin tone - hers from heritage and his from long hours in the sun - and with white and gold outfits that befit the Gods... the two of them would set tongues ablaze, she was sure.
Holding out her arm to be escorted by her new fiancé, Persephone returned his compliments in all sincerity.
"You look very elegant yourself, my lord." She told him, with another smile. "I know this type of attire is not comfortable for you but the cut of this gown is strange to me also... Perhaps we can take comfort in the idea that we are both as awkward as one another?"
Giving her sister a sharp look as Emilia was not exactly rude to the Lord but not exactly welcoming either, she fell into line to follow her father and sister, allowing the monarch to precede her out of the door.
The carriages they had organised for the day were larger than their normal vessels. Lacquered pitch black with white and gold flourishes and additions, the wings of a swan on each door, the four carriages that had been settled into the courtyard - with four horses a piece - were as excessive and for show as the newly betrothed's outfits.
Taking a steadying breath (or as much of one as she could in her gown) Persephone watched as her father made clear who would be sitting within each carriage; He, his youngest daughter and two of his advisers would be taking the first, Persephone, Iason and her maid Amynta would be taking the second - for all intents and purposes, the most private the newly engaged couple could get - and the last two would include the retinue (maids to both the princesses and the king). Guards would be walking and jogging alongside the parade, between the royal palace and the arcus, where the festivities were due to begin.
Once settled in the carriage, and alone with Lord Iason barring her standard head maid Amynta (a woman who was both friend and shadow to the princess more or less at all times), Persephone was unsure how to begin conversation as they would have perhaps twenty minutes before they arrived at the stadium.
"This is the first time I have done something such as this." She started by admitting unnecessarily - as all in the carriage were fully aware. "I hope you shall not let me falter, Lord Iason?"
Amynta was exhausted.
Dressing Persephone for this event had taken hours. The swaths of gold fabric had to be wrapped just so, and even though the head seamstress had gone over it several times, Amynta still needed to ask more questions when the time came. Poor Persephone was wrapped entirely from the neck down, and it was a wonder she could even move. While the end result was undoubtedly stunning, Amynta vowed to never permit that again. With Persephone's permission, of course. Amynta had seen the exasperation on her lady's face only a quarter of the way through the process, though, so she was confident she could press the matter to both their advantage.
Preparing Persephone's hair had taken hours, even with the assistance of the other ladies-in-waiting. Even now, Amynta could see plaits that were not as tight as they should be, but she had sewn them all in place for the final arrangement and hoped for the best. Disassembling the hairstyle would take just as long, too, leaving the princess with a poof of finely crimped mane that would give the lions of the Arcus pause. She and Persephone had giggled about it when they first tested the hairstyle. Still, the body allowed for some fun arrangements in the day or two following until it became imperative to wash the lady's hair. She had given strict instructions for Persephone's hair to NOT be washed the day before, if only to ensure today's style would properly hold.
This, of course, was AFTER she had to dress and prepare herself. She had coiled her hair the night before so proper loose ringlets would form, allowing her to put her own hair up in as neat or as tousled an updo as she pleased and have it still look presentable. She went for a diaphanous seafoam green number with gold trim, making it clear that she was with the lady's entourage, but still lovely in her own right. She didn't worry about outshining the princess; there was no way in all the world, the realm of Hades, or Olympus itself that such a thing would ever occur.
She followed the royal family, behind Persephone an appropriate distance, though her gaze fell back toward the ailing king more than once. The care Persephone and Emilia showed for their father reminded her all too painfully of her own father's delicate condition, but she knew she could not go back to see him now, not when Persephone needed her most. Still, it had led to more than one sleepless night in the past month or so.
And then there was this Iason, foreign royalty to be engaged to her lady. He seemed polite enough in the four weeks he had spent here, but his attention was clearly split. Considering all she had heard, she could not blame him, certainly. In fact, she understood the pain of being far from loved ones who suffered, but duty called instead. She made a note to try to spend more time with Iason, if he allowed it, if only to offer some small comfort or sympathy for his plight. Later.
Now, the royal procession would begin. Amynta's tasks were simple: speak only when spoken to, add to her lady's radiance, and wave to the crowds as they passed. She hoped her appearance in the harbor assisting with recovery efforts would afford the procession some safety, but with the events in Tangaea, there was no telling what could happen.
JD
Staff Team
JD
Staff Team
This post was created by our staff team.
Please contact us with your queries and questions.
Dressing Persephone for this event had taken hours. The swaths of gold fabric had to be wrapped just so, and even though the head seamstress had gone over it several times, Amynta still needed to ask more questions when the time came. Poor Persephone was wrapped entirely from the neck down, and it was a wonder she could even move. While the end result was undoubtedly stunning, Amynta vowed to never permit that again. With Persephone's permission, of course. Amynta had seen the exasperation on her lady's face only a quarter of the way through the process, though, so she was confident she could press the matter to both their advantage.
Preparing Persephone's hair had taken hours, even with the assistance of the other ladies-in-waiting. Even now, Amynta could see plaits that were not as tight as they should be, but she had sewn them all in place for the final arrangement and hoped for the best. Disassembling the hairstyle would take just as long, too, leaving the princess with a poof of finely crimped mane that would give the lions of the Arcus pause. She and Persephone had giggled about it when they first tested the hairstyle. Still, the body allowed for some fun arrangements in the day or two following until it became imperative to wash the lady's hair. She had given strict instructions for Persephone's hair to NOT be washed the day before, if only to ensure today's style would properly hold.
This, of course, was AFTER she had to dress and prepare herself. She had coiled her hair the night before so proper loose ringlets would form, allowing her to put her own hair up in as neat or as tousled an updo as she pleased and have it still look presentable. She went for a diaphanous seafoam green number with gold trim, making it clear that she was with the lady's entourage, but still lovely in her own right. She didn't worry about outshining the princess; there was no way in all the world, the realm of Hades, or Olympus itself that such a thing would ever occur.
She followed the royal family, behind Persephone an appropriate distance, though her gaze fell back toward the ailing king more than once. The care Persephone and Emilia showed for their father reminded her all too painfully of her own father's delicate condition, but she knew she could not go back to see him now, not when Persephone needed her most. Still, it had led to more than one sleepless night in the past month or so.
And then there was this Iason, foreign royalty to be engaged to her lady. He seemed polite enough in the four weeks he had spent here, but his attention was clearly split. Considering all she had heard, she could not blame him, certainly. In fact, she understood the pain of being far from loved ones who suffered, but duty called instead. She made a note to try to spend more time with Iason, if he allowed it, if only to offer some small comfort or sympathy for his plight. Later.
Now, the royal procession would begin. Amynta's tasks were simple: speak only when spoken to, add to her lady's radiance, and wave to the crowds as they passed. She hoped her appearance in the harbor assisting with recovery efforts would afford the procession some safety, but with the events in Tangaea, there was no telling what could happen.
Amynta was exhausted.
Dressing Persephone for this event had taken hours. The swaths of gold fabric had to be wrapped just so, and even though the head seamstress had gone over it several times, Amynta still needed to ask more questions when the time came. Poor Persephone was wrapped entirely from the neck down, and it was a wonder she could even move. While the end result was undoubtedly stunning, Amynta vowed to never permit that again. With Persephone's permission, of course. Amynta had seen the exasperation on her lady's face only a quarter of the way through the process, though, so she was confident she could press the matter to both their advantage.
Preparing Persephone's hair had taken hours, even with the assistance of the other ladies-in-waiting. Even now, Amynta could see plaits that were not as tight as they should be, but she had sewn them all in place for the final arrangement and hoped for the best. Disassembling the hairstyle would take just as long, too, leaving the princess with a poof of finely crimped mane that would give the lions of the Arcus pause. She and Persephone had giggled about it when they first tested the hairstyle. Still, the body allowed for some fun arrangements in the day or two following until it became imperative to wash the lady's hair. She had given strict instructions for Persephone's hair to NOT be washed the day before, if only to ensure today's style would properly hold.
This, of course, was AFTER she had to dress and prepare herself. She had coiled her hair the night before so proper loose ringlets would form, allowing her to put her own hair up in as neat or as tousled an updo as she pleased and have it still look presentable. She went for a diaphanous seafoam green number with gold trim, making it clear that she was with the lady's entourage, but still lovely in her own right. She didn't worry about outshining the princess; there was no way in all the world, the realm of Hades, or Olympus itself that such a thing would ever occur.
She followed the royal family, behind Persephone an appropriate distance, though her gaze fell back toward the ailing king more than once. The care Persephone and Emilia showed for their father reminded her all too painfully of her own father's delicate condition, but she knew she could not go back to see him now, not when Persephone needed her most. Still, it had led to more than one sleepless night in the past month or so.
And then there was this Iason, foreign royalty to be engaged to her lady. He seemed polite enough in the four weeks he had spent here, but his attention was clearly split. Considering all she had heard, she could not blame him, certainly. In fact, she understood the pain of being far from loved ones who suffered, but duty called instead. She made a note to try to spend more time with Iason, if he allowed it, if only to offer some small comfort or sympathy for his plight. Later.
Now, the royal procession would begin. Amynta's tasks were simple: speak only when spoken to, add to her lady's radiance, and wave to the crowds as they passed. She hoped her appearance in the harbor assisting with recovery efforts would afford the procession some safety, but with the events in Tangaea, there was no telling what could happen.
The horse beneath him shifted as it trotted forward two steps. Vilmar sighed as he tugged at the reins of the animal. He had never been fond of riding horses. He understood the advantage tactically, but the creatures never seemed to pay him much mind. This particular one was a Cretan horse, which handled the rocky ground of the coasts and cliffs a little easier. The horse had a slight black beach with a few spots of white dotting along the horse’s mane. The creature seemed to have a mind of its own.
Safer at sea than on a horse Vilmar often thought, at least on the sea the boat moved the way he directed it. He missed his days along the coast, and those had been fond memories. Part of the role of the bodyguard was appearance, and guards on horseback instilled prestige. The people of Athenia had to see that the Royal family was well guarded and secure. Given the current state of the King’s health, no sign of weakness could be shown.
The glimmer from the polish of Vilmar’s armor shined against the golden rays of sunlight that cascaded down on to the city. The buckles that clasped the breastplate to his tunic almost glowed from attention. He had spent half the night polishing it all for the occasion. His sword had been sharpened in the morning in case it was needed to be displayed. In some cases, a display of strength could be sufficient enough to deter a threat. Vilmar hoped that would be the case on this day.
Vilmar’s black hair bristled against the moderate winds that rolled up from the ocean. He would have preferred to keep one hand on the short sword at his side, but he needed both hands for the creature. It seemed to be grinding on the harness again. Vilmar’s blue eyes gazed upon the city streets and the people lining the street. It would be a busy day in the city, and he would have to stay alert.
There were a variety of men who guarded the royal family; each member also had personal bodyguards. In the case of Princess Persephone, two men had been chosen. The senior veteran Parmenion, and the younger battle-tested soldier in Vilmar. In light of the turn in the King’s health, it was soon to be an even more critical role. Vilmar did like to dwell on it, but he knew there were Houses and other Kingdoms who would benefit if the family faltered. The hardened soldier’s eyes softened as he watched the King get into the carriage, despite appearance, there were signs of the growing illness. Whatever happened, Vilmar would see the Princess take her rightful place.
When Princess Persephone emerged, Vilmar could not help momentarily staring at her. Her beauty was striking. He did his best to offer a simple nod to her, but he felt it came off awkward. Once she boarded the carriage, he left out a small sigh of relief, only to then find his eyes wandering to look at Princess Emilia wantonly. Of course in her case, he had no real reason to be looking in her direction, beyond the fact that she was a beautiful woman. He attempted the same simple nod and tried to pull his eyes away to look elsewhere, anywhere in particular. He sighed feeling the whole greeting could have gone better. Social affairs had never been his strongest skill.
Vilmar shifted the horse to fall behind the carriage as it began to move. His hand was slightly pulling the reins back. Parmenion was the senior man, and so he would ride in the front, and Vilmar to guard the rear. Vilmar had spent enough time in the military to understand rank and had no issue with the roles. His head began to swivel as he scanned the crowd for any potential threats. Vilmar doubted anyone would be bold or foolish enough to attack a whole column, but it was a long winding journey. He checked his sword with his eyes as his boots lightly applied pressure to the horse.
He was still amazed to be here, at this very moment. As a boy down by the harbor, he had seen the palace in the distance. Once or twice he had seen it closer when making deliveries. He felt honored to be chosen for the role and blessed by Athena herself to see such an event first hand. As a boy, he would have been among the mass. He probably would have been encouraging one of his older brothers to hoist him up on their shoulders so he could see. It would be an excellent future for Athenia, even if there would be sadness in the King’s passing. Vilmar was certain the Princess would lead them to a bright future.
JD
Staff Team
JD
Staff Team
This post was created by our staff team.
Please contact us with your queries and questions.
The horse beneath him shifted as it trotted forward two steps. Vilmar sighed as he tugged at the reins of the animal. He had never been fond of riding horses. He understood the advantage tactically, but the creatures never seemed to pay him much mind. This particular one was a Cretan horse, which handled the rocky ground of the coasts and cliffs a little easier. The horse had a slight black beach with a few spots of white dotting along the horse’s mane. The creature seemed to have a mind of its own.
Safer at sea than on a horse Vilmar often thought, at least on the sea the boat moved the way he directed it. He missed his days along the coast, and those had been fond memories. Part of the role of the bodyguard was appearance, and guards on horseback instilled prestige. The people of Athenia had to see that the Royal family was well guarded and secure. Given the current state of the King’s health, no sign of weakness could be shown.
The glimmer from the polish of Vilmar’s armor shined against the golden rays of sunlight that cascaded down on to the city. The buckles that clasped the breastplate to his tunic almost glowed from attention. He had spent half the night polishing it all for the occasion. His sword had been sharpened in the morning in case it was needed to be displayed. In some cases, a display of strength could be sufficient enough to deter a threat. Vilmar hoped that would be the case on this day.
Vilmar’s black hair bristled against the moderate winds that rolled up from the ocean. He would have preferred to keep one hand on the short sword at his side, but he needed both hands for the creature. It seemed to be grinding on the harness again. Vilmar’s blue eyes gazed upon the city streets and the people lining the street. It would be a busy day in the city, and he would have to stay alert.
There were a variety of men who guarded the royal family; each member also had personal bodyguards. In the case of Princess Persephone, two men had been chosen. The senior veteran Parmenion, and the younger battle-tested soldier in Vilmar. In light of the turn in the King’s health, it was soon to be an even more critical role. Vilmar did like to dwell on it, but he knew there were Houses and other Kingdoms who would benefit if the family faltered. The hardened soldier’s eyes softened as he watched the King get into the carriage, despite appearance, there were signs of the growing illness. Whatever happened, Vilmar would see the Princess take her rightful place.
When Princess Persephone emerged, Vilmar could not help momentarily staring at her. Her beauty was striking. He did his best to offer a simple nod to her, but he felt it came off awkward. Once she boarded the carriage, he left out a small sigh of relief, only to then find his eyes wandering to look at Princess Emilia wantonly. Of course in her case, he had no real reason to be looking in her direction, beyond the fact that she was a beautiful woman. He attempted the same simple nod and tried to pull his eyes away to look elsewhere, anywhere in particular. He sighed feeling the whole greeting could have gone better. Social affairs had never been his strongest skill.
Vilmar shifted the horse to fall behind the carriage as it began to move. His hand was slightly pulling the reins back. Parmenion was the senior man, and so he would ride in the front, and Vilmar to guard the rear. Vilmar had spent enough time in the military to understand rank and had no issue with the roles. His head began to swivel as he scanned the crowd for any potential threats. Vilmar doubted anyone would be bold or foolish enough to attack a whole column, but it was a long winding journey. He checked his sword with his eyes as his boots lightly applied pressure to the horse.
He was still amazed to be here, at this very moment. As a boy down by the harbor, he had seen the palace in the distance. Once or twice he had seen it closer when making deliveries. He felt honored to be chosen for the role and blessed by Athena herself to see such an event first hand. As a boy, he would have been among the mass. He probably would have been encouraging one of his older brothers to hoist him up on their shoulders so he could see. It would be an excellent future for Athenia, even if there would be sadness in the King’s passing. Vilmar was certain the Princess would lead them to a bright future.
The horse beneath him shifted as it trotted forward two steps. Vilmar sighed as he tugged at the reins of the animal. He had never been fond of riding horses. He understood the advantage tactically, but the creatures never seemed to pay him much mind. This particular one was a Cretan horse, which handled the rocky ground of the coasts and cliffs a little easier. The horse had a slight black beach with a few spots of white dotting along the horse’s mane. The creature seemed to have a mind of its own.
Safer at sea than on a horse Vilmar often thought, at least on the sea the boat moved the way he directed it. He missed his days along the coast, and those had been fond memories. Part of the role of the bodyguard was appearance, and guards on horseback instilled prestige. The people of Athenia had to see that the Royal family was well guarded and secure. Given the current state of the King’s health, no sign of weakness could be shown.
The glimmer from the polish of Vilmar’s armor shined against the golden rays of sunlight that cascaded down on to the city. The buckles that clasped the breastplate to his tunic almost glowed from attention. He had spent half the night polishing it all for the occasion. His sword had been sharpened in the morning in case it was needed to be displayed. In some cases, a display of strength could be sufficient enough to deter a threat. Vilmar hoped that would be the case on this day.
Vilmar’s black hair bristled against the moderate winds that rolled up from the ocean. He would have preferred to keep one hand on the short sword at his side, but he needed both hands for the creature. It seemed to be grinding on the harness again. Vilmar’s blue eyes gazed upon the city streets and the people lining the street. It would be a busy day in the city, and he would have to stay alert.
There were a variety of men who guarded the royal family; each member also had personal bodyguards. In the case of Princess Persephone, two men had been chosen. The senior veteran Parmenion, and the younger battle-tested soldier in Vilmar. In light of the turn in the King’s health, it was soon to be an even more critical role. Vilmar did like to dwell on it, but he knew there were Houses and other Kingdoms who would benefit if the family faltered. The hardened soldier’s eyes softened as he watched the King get into the carriage, despite appearance, there were signs of the growing illness. Whatever happened, Vilmar would see the Princess take her rightful place.
When Princess Persephone emerged, Vilmar could not help momentarily staring at her. Her beauty was striking. He did his best to offer a simple nod to her, but he felt it came off awkward. Once she boarded the carriage, he left out a small sigh of relief, only to then find his eyes wandering to look at Princess Emilia wantonly. Of course in her case, he had no real reason to be looking in her direction, beyond the fact that she was a beautiful woman. He attempted the same simple nod and tried to pull his eyes away to look elsewhere, anywhere in particular. He sighed feeling the whole greeting could have gone better. Social affairs had never been his strongest skill.
Vilmar shifted the horse to fall behind the carriage as it began to move. His hand was slightly pulling the reins back. Parmenion was the senior man, and so he would ride in the front, and Vilmar to guard the rear. Vilmar had spent enough time in the military to understand rank and had no issue with the roles. His head began to swivel as he scanned the crowd for any potential threats. Vilmar doubted anyone would be bold or foolish enough to attack a whole column, but it was a long winding journey. He checked his sword with his eyes as his boots lightly applied pressure to the horse.
He was still amazed to be here, at this very moment. As a boy down by the harbor, he had seen the palace in the distance. Once or twice he had seen it closer when making deliveries. He felt honored to be chosen for the role and blessed by Athena herself to see such an event first hand. As a boy, he would have been among the mass. He probably would have been encouraging one of his older brothers to hoist him up on their shoulders so he could see. It would be an excellent future for Athenia, even if there would be sadness in the King’s passing. Vilmar was certain the Princess would lead them to a bright future.
"Oy! You there! Did you sleep in your uniform last night?"
The Commander of the guard shook his head as he moved with speed towards the messy guard. It was rare for the commander himself to be the one doing the inspections, but with the festivities going on, Diomedes made it his personal responsibility to be the one out in front. As occupied as he had been lately, a change of pace would do him good. For the day, he could put Thalia aside and do his job. Focus on keeping the peace in his kingdom, and return to the search for his sister later.
He pushed the ache in his heart down and fully berated the soldier.
His light hair stood out in the crowd as he moved back to the front of the regimen. Crowds were starting to gather, which meant that they needed to be at their posts. But today, of all days, he wanted to make sure that everyone looked their best. Sophia had helped him last night polish his own armor to a high shine, cutting his hair so that it was fresh for the day. Adjusting the black cloak on his back, he was quick and curt with his expectations of the day. Any man who was caught partaking in the festivities while on duty would be spending a night in the jails. If they were in uniform, they were expected to act as he demanded they did. They knew their duty, and none would dare disrespect Diomedes by failing to do what he expected of them.
With a flick of his wrist, he sent them off to their posts. As the Commander, he was expected to be the representation. Highly visible, Diomedes moved through the crowd to take his position at the front of the Argus, waiting for the royal carriage to arrive. While he may not have been one of the king's personal guards, he was certainly someone the king relied on to keep peace and order in the kingdom. And he was determined to do so.
Even if he couldn't protect his own sister.
Shaking off the lingering doubt in his mind, his eyes were sharp as the entourage finally made their way to him. He was patient, hands behind his back and head held high. As soon as they disembarked, he bowed to the party, giving a brief report to the King's personal guards. All had the same expectations for the day.
The night, however, was anyone's guess.
JD
Staff Team
JD
Staff Team
This post was created by our staff team.
Please contact us with your queries and questions.
"Oy! You there! Did you sleep in your uniform last night?"
The Commander of the guard shook his head as he moved with speed towards the messy guard. It was rare for the commander himself to be the one doing the inspections, but with the festivities going on, Diomedes made it his personal responsibility to be the one out in front. As occupied as he had been lately, a change of pace would do him good. For the day, he could put Thalia aside and do his job. Focus on keeping the peace in his kingdom, and return to the search for his sister later.
He pushed the ache in his heart down and fully berated the soldier.
His light hair stood out in the crowd as he moved back to the front of the regimen. Crowds were starting to gather, which meant that they needed to be at their posts. But today, of all days, he wanted to make sure that everyone looked their best. Sophia had helped him last night polish his own armor to a high shine, cutting his hair so that it was fresh for the day. Adjusting the black cloak on his back, he was quick and curt with his expectations of the day. Any man who was caught partaking in the festivities while on duty would be spending a night in the jails. If they were in uniform, they were expected to act as he demanded they did. They knew their duty, and none would dare disrespect Diomedes by failing to do what he expected of them.
With a flick of his wrist, he sent them off to their posts. As the Commander, he was expected to be the representation. Highly visible, Diomedes moved through the crowd to take his position at the front of the Argus, waiting for the royal carriage to arrive. While he may not have been one of the king's personal guards, he was certainly someone the king relied on to keep peace and order in the kingdom. And he was determined to do so.
Even if he couldn't protect his own sister.
Shaking off the lingering doubt in his mind, his eyes were sharp as the entourage finally made their way to him. He was patient, hands behind his back and head held high. As soon as they disembarked, he bowed to the party, giving a brief report to the King's personal guards. All had the same expectations for the day.
The night, however, was anyone's guess.
"Oy! You there! Did you sleep in your uniform last night?"
The Commander of the guard shook his head as he moved with speed towards the messy guard. It was rare for the commander himself to be the one doing the inspections, but with the festivities going on, Diomedes made it his personal responsibility to be the one out in front. As occupied as he had been lately, a change of pace would do him good. For the day, he could put Thalia aside and do his job. Focus on keeping the peace in his kingdom, and return to the search for his sister later.
He pushed the ache in his heart down and fully berated the soldier.
His light hair stood out in the crowd as he moved back to the front of the regimen. Crowds were starting to gather, which meant that they needed to be at their posts. But today, of all days, he wanted to make sure that everyone looked their best. Sophia had helped him last night polish his own armor to a high shine, cutting his hair so that it was fresh for the day. Adjusting the black cloak on his back, he was quick and curt with his expectations of the day. Any man who was caught partaking in the festivities while on duty would be spending a night in the jails. If they were in uniform, they were expected to act as he demanded they did. They knew their duty, and none would dare disrespect Diomedes by failing to do what he expected of them.
With a flick of his wrist, he sent them off to their posts. As the Commander, he was expected to be the representation. Highly visible, Diomedes moved through the crowd to take his position at the front of the Argus, waiting for the royal carriage to arrive. While he may not have been one of the king's personal guards, he was certainly someone the king relied on to keep peace and order in the kingdom. And he was determined to do so.
Even if he couldn't protect his own sister.
Shaking off the lingering doubt in his mind, his eyes were sharp as the entourage finally made their way to him. He was patient, hands behind his back and head held high. As soon as they disembarked, he bowed to the party, giving a brief report to the King's personal guards. All had the same expectations for the day.
The night, however, was anyone's guess.
Clad in armor shined to within an inch of it's life, his thick brown hair pulled back in a neat tail, his helmet covering his head, as where the other Athenian Guards standing at attention before him. Nic was waiting patiently atop his horse, a gelding he’d named Megálo, a huge animal to match his own larger than average size, he’d ridden for the last couple of years. When the commander yelled at one of the guard, Nic looked that way instinctively, but then looked away, his gaze returning to the direction from which the princesses would come. Watching as always for Emilia, whom he’d sworn to protect with his very life if need be.
When the princess Persephone emerged, Nic nearly choked at the sight of her. He’d always know she was a beautiful woman, though his heart belonged to another, but decked out as she was, she was radiant, and took his breath away. He stared at her a long moment, before getting himself in hand and scanning the area for any threats as she, her sister, their father, Lord Iason and the others were handed into their carriages.
Vilmar and Parmenion rode alongside the second of the two carriage for that was the one Persephone, Iason and the princess’ handmaiden had gotten into. Nic rode alongside the first carriage, grateful that Persephone was no longer in his line of sight. It made it easier for him to focus on his own duties., guarding the younger princess from any and all who might wish her harm.
JD
Staff Team
JD
Staff Team
This post was created by our staff team.
Please contact us with your queries and questions.
Clad in armor shined to within an inch of it's life, his thick brown hair pulled back in a neat tail, his helmet covering his head, as where the other Athenian Guards standing at attention before him. Nic was waiting patiently atop his horse, a gelding he’d named Megálo, a huge animal to match his own larger than average size, he’d ridden for the last couple of years. When the commander yelled at one of the guard, Nic looked that way instinctively, but then looked away, his gaze returning to the direction from which the princesses would come. Watching as always for Emilia, whom he’d sworn to protect with his very life if need be.
When the princess Persephone emerged, Nic nearly choked at the sight of her. He’d always know she was a beautiful woman, though his heart belonged to another, but decked out as she was, she was radiant, and took his breath away. He stared at her a long moment, before getting himself in hand and scanning the area for any threats as she, her sister, their father, Lord Iason and the others were handed into their carriages.
Vilmar and Parmenion rode alongside the second of the two carriage for that was the one Persephone, Iason and the princess’ handmaiden had gotten into. Nic rode alongside the first carriage, grateful that Persephone was no longer in his line of sight. It made it easier for him to focus on his own duties., guarding the younger princess from any and all who might wish her harm.
Clad in armor shined to within an inch of it's life, his thick brown hair pulled back in a neat tail, his helmet covering his head, as where the other Athenian Guards standing at attention before him. Nic was waiting patiently atop his horse, a gelding he’d named Megálo, a huge animal to match his own larger than average size, he’d ridden for the last couple of years. When the commander yelled at one of the guard, Nic looked that way instinctively, but then looked away, his gaze returning to the direction from which the princesses would come. Watching as always for Emilia, whom he’d sworn to protect with his very life if need be.
When the princess Persephone emerged, Nic nearly choked at the sight of her. He’d always know she was a beautiful woman, though his heart belonged to another, but decked out as she was, she was radiant, and took his breath away. He stared at her a long moment, before getting himself in hand and scanning the area for any threats as she, her sister, their father, Lord Iason and the others were handed into their carriages.
Vilmar and Parmenion rode alongside the second of the two carriage for that was the one Persephone, Iason and the princess’ handmaiden had gotten into. Nic rode alongside the first carriage, grateful that Persephone was no longer in his line of sight. It made it easier for him to focus on his own duties., guarding the younger princess from any and all who might wish her harm.
The journey to the circus was quiet. Not an uncomfortable silence, as she and Lord Iason had become more like friends in the last few weeks of their acquaintance... especially since their ride out to the cliff side when they had each grown to know one another more intimately and on a more personal level.
Instead, the quiet was more from a lack of knowing what to say. What was it that you were supposed to say when being driven to a large stadium of people about to announce your engagement to someone you liked back had only known a short time? Good luck?
All the niceties that went through Persephone's mind seemed false or like a sarcastic remark and so she kept quiet, hoping that Iason's silence was for exactly the same reason.
Instead, she focused on showing herself at the carriage window, allowing the people of her kingdom to see the blazing white of her over-chlamys and the shine of her crown. She smiled and waved at them as they yelled and pointed, smiles on their faces and excitement in their expression. A few children even tried to run beside the carriages, unable to get too close because of the protective guard Persephone had positioned around her with Parmenion and Vilmar performing their tasks admirably. Even Lord Diomedes of Nikolaos had attended the parade in order to lead it through the streets, the head of the Athenian Guard at the head of their column.
When the carriages arrived at the stadium, Persephone was pleased to hear the cheers that went up as she stepped down from her vehicle. She had been working hard over the course of the last few months to ensure positive reception of the Xanthos family and it looked as though it was working. While the people of Athenia had no position or power in the upcoming Senate vote, their clear love for the current royal family might help sway those senators still on the fence regarding their vote on the future legislation change and she was careful to smile back and nod her head gracefully at a few of the women in the crowd, pleased to see their cheeks burn with excitement at being singled out.
Lord Iason was quick to follow her and offer her his arm, as a gentleman would, and gratefully accepted it, waiting for her father to descend from his own carriage, which he did without aid and with grace (thank the Gods).
With Emilia on her father's arm and then Persephone on Lord Iason's the four led their retinue into the arcus stadium and up a flight of impressive marble stairs. The building was not designed for internal use, as most of its function was outside in the stadium, but the front foyer was grand and impressive to the noble born who were the only ones to utilise it. The gladiators entered from another door and path, one could only assume.
As they ascended the stairs, the manager of the arcus spoke with her father to assure him that the gladiators were currently being filed out into the stadium, to which Minas nodded his thanks for the information.
Persephone knew that on big games like today, the gladiators were walked out onto the sands before their battles. In a long line that curved around into an oval to line the edges of the arena, this was the showcase that allowed games-runners and bookies to take their bets from the crowd, and it was an important part of the proceedings that would have the audience's rapt attention.
As such, Minas held a hand out to encourage them all to wait.
Persephone smiled. This was politics... it was all a show and a game. Her father wanted to ensure that all of the people of Athenia would be focused on their arrival rather than on the men in the arena.
It took a few minutes, in which Persephone took as deep breathes as her golden dress would allow, and waited for the appropriate moment for them to continue on their way. Being careful of her gown, and holding the skirts out of the way of her feet, Persephone followed her father's lead and only climbed the steps when they could hear the crowd drawing quieter.
Reaching the top of the stairs, the four of them entered into the top box, a large balcony designed to hold at least a full royal family and their retinue. The retinue were expected to stand around its edges and into the shadows of the balcony while the royals sat upon the thrones that were pushed forward, towards the balcony railing. It allowed them to be on show to the people.
Initially, however, an announcement was to be made, which meant their place was standing at the railing, overseeing the crowds that had already finished filling into the arcus. Persephone followed her father's direction as he stood a little off centre and encouraged her and her husband-to-be to stand beside him, putting herself front and centre. Emilia was encouraged to stand back slightly, as young as she was and not used to the attention of thousands staring directly at you. Not to mention the gladiators who now stood in the ring, looking up at the newly arrived royal family.
Not that Persephone was at all used to it, and found herself suddenly nervous.
As if sensing her trepidation, Lord Iason placed a hand on Persephone's, where it rested on his forearm and she look around to smile at him her thanks. The gesture would, to the public look like one of affection, rather than one of calming but she was also glad that he understood her nerves. At least they had each other to get through everything from now on. Regardless of the great love her sister was sad to have missing from her marriage, there was something very nice about knowing she would always now have a supporter in her life - a partner with which to walk it.
Persephone felt her heart swell and she turned back to her audience with all the confidence she might manage; her head held high and her back straight, the white and gold of her attire shimmering in the light.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
The journey to the circus was quiet. Not an uncomfortable silence, as she and Lord Iason had become more like friends in the last few weeks of their acquaintance... especially since their ride out to the cliff side when they had each grown to know one another more intimately and on a more personal level.
Instead, the quiet was more from a lack of knowing what to say. What was it that you were supposed to say when being driven to a large stadium of people about to announce your engagement to someone you liked back had only known a short time? Good luck?
All the niceties that went through Persephone's mind seemed false or like a sarcastic remark and so she kept quiet, hoping that Iason's silence was for exactly the same reason.
Instead, she focused on showing herself at the carriage window, allowing the people of her kingdom to see the blazing white of her over-chlamys and the shine of her crown. She smiled and waved at them as they yelled and pointed, smiles on their faces and excitement in their expression. A few children even tried to run beside the carriages, unable to get too close because of the protective guard Persephone had positioned around her with Parmenion and Vilmar performing their tasks admirably. Even Lord Diomedes of Nikolaos had attended the parade in order to lead it through the streets, the head of the Athenian Guard at the head of their column.
When the carriages arrived at the stadium, Persephone was pleased to hear the cheers that went up as she stepped down from her vehicle. She had been working hard over the course of the last few months to ensure positive reception of the Xanthos family and it looked as though it was working. While the people of Athenia had no position or power in the upcoming Senate vote, their clear love for the current royal family might help sway those senators still on the fence regarding their vote on the future legislation change and she was careful to smile back and nod her head gracefully at a few of the women in the crowd, pleased to see their cheeks burn with excitement at being singled out.
Lord Iason was quick to follow her and offer her his arm, as a gentleman would, and gratefully accepted it, waiting for her father to descend from his own carriage, which he did without aid and with grace (thank the Gods).
With Emilia on her father's arm and then Persephone on Lord Iason's the four led their retinue into the arcus stadium and up a flight of impressive marble stairs. The building was not designed for internal use, as most of its function was outside in the stadium, but the front foyer was grand and impressive to the noble born who were the only ones to utilise it. The gladiators entered from another door and path, one could only assume.
As they ascended the stairs, the manager of the arcus spoke with her father to assure him that the gladiators were currently being filed out into the stadium, to which Minas nodded his thanks for the information.
Persephone knew that on big games like today, the gladiators were walked out onto the sands before their battles. In a long line that curved around into an oval to line the edges of the arena, this was the showcase that allowed games-runners and bookies to take their bets from the crowd, and it was an important part of the proceedings that would have the audience's rapt attention.
As such, Minas held a hand out to encourage them all to wait.
Persephone smiled. This was politics... it was all a show and a game. Her father wanted to ensure that all of the people of Athenia would be focused on their arrival rather than on the men in the arena.
It took a few minutes, in which Persephone took as deep breathes as her golden dress would allow, and waited for the appropriate moment for them to continue on their way. Being careful of her gown, and holding the skirts out of the way of her feet, Persephone followed her father's lead and only climbed the steps when they could hear the crowd drawing quieter.
Reaching the top of the stairs, the four of them entered into the top box, a large balcony designed to hold at least a full royal family and their retinue. The retinue were expected to stand around its edges and into the shadows of the balcony while the royals sat upon the thrones that were pushed forward, towards the balcony railing. It allowed them to be on show to the people.
Initially, however, an announcement was to be made, which meant their place was standing at the railing, overseeing the crowds that had already finished filling into the arcus. Persephone followed her father's direction as he stood a little off centre and encouraged her and her husband-to-be to stand beside him, putting herself front and centre. Emilia was encouraged to stand back slightly, as young as she was and not used to the attention of thousands staring directly at you. Not to mention the gladiators who now stood in the ring, looking up at the newly arrived royal family.
Not that Persephone was at all used to it, and found herself suddenly nervous.
As if sensing her trepidation, Lord Iason placed a hand on Persephone's, where it rested on his forearm and she look around to smile at him her thanks. The gesture would, to the public look like one of affection, rather than one of calming but she was also glad that he understood her nerves. At least they had each other to get through everything from now on. Regardless of the great love her sister was sad to have missing from her marriage, there was something very nice about knowing she would always now have a supporter in her life - a partner with which to walk it.
Persephone felt her heart swell and she turned back to her audience with all the confidence she might manage; her head held high and her back straight, the white and gold of her attire shimmering in the light.
The journey to the circus was quiet. Not an uncomfortable silence, as she and Lord Iason had become more like friends in the last few weeks of their acquaintance... especially since their ride out to the cliff side when they had each grown to know one another more intimately and on a more personal level.
Instead, the quiet was more from a lack of knowing what to say. What was it that you were supposed to say when being driven to a large stadium of people about to announce your engagement to someone you liked back had only known a short time? Good luck?
All the niceties that went through Persephone's mind seemed false or like a sarcastic remark and so she kept quiet, hoping that Iason's silence was for exactly the same reason.
Instead, she focused on showing herself at the carriage window, allowing the people of her kingdom to see the blazing white of her over-chlamys and the shine of her crown. She smiled and waved at them as they yelled and pointed, smiles on their faces and excitement in their expression. A few children even tried to run beside the carriages, unable to get too close because of the protective guard Persephone had positioned around her with Parmenion and Vilmar performing their tasks admirably. Even Lord Diomedes of Nikolaos had attended the parade in order to lead it through the streets, the head of the Athenian Guard at the head of their column.
When the carriages arrived at the stadium, Persephone was pleased to hear the cheers that went up as she stepped down from her vehicle. She had been working hard over the course of the last few months to ensure positive reception of the Xanthos family and it looked as though it was working. While the people of Athenia had no position or power in the upcoming Senate vote, their clear love for the current royal family might help sway those senators still on the fence regarding their vote on the future legislation change and she was careful to smile back and nod her head gracefully at a few of the women in the crowd, pleased to see their cheeks burn with excitement at being singled out.
Lord Iason was quick to follow her and offer her his arm, as a gentleman would, and gratefully accepted it, waiting for her father to descend from his own carriage, which he did without aid and with grace (thank the Gods).
With Emilia on her father's arm and then Persephone on Lord Iason's the four led their retinue into the arcus stadium and up a flight of impressive marble stairs. The building was not designed for internal use, as most of its function was outside in the stadium, but the front foyer was grand and impressive to the noble born who were the only ones to utilise it. The gladiators entered from another door and path, one could only assume.
As they ascended the stairs, the manager of the arcus spoke with her father to assure him that the gladiators were currently being filed out into the stadium, to which Minas nodded his thanks for the information.
Persephone knew that on big games like today, the gladiators were walked out onto the sands before their battles. In a long line that curved around into an oval to line the edges of the arena, this was the showcase that allowed games-runners and bookies to take their bets from the crowd, and it was an important part of the proceedings that would have the audience's rapt attention.
As such, Minas held a hand out to encourage them all to wait.
Persephone smiled. This was politics... it was all a show and a game. Her father wanted to ensure that all of the people of Athenia would be focused on their arrival rather than on the men in the arena.
It took a few minutes, in which Persephone took as deep breathes as her golden dress would allow, and waited for the appropriate moment for them to continue on their way. Being careful of her gown, and holding the skirts out of the way of her feet, Persephone followed her father's lead and only climbed the steps when they could hear the crowd drawing quieter.
Reaching the top of the stairs, the four of them entered into the top box, a large balcony designed to hold at least a full royal family and their retinue. The retinue were expected to stand around its edges and into the shadows of the balcony while the royals sat upon the thrones that were pushed forward, towards the balcony railing. It allowed them to be on show to the people.
Initially, however, an announcement was to be made, which meant their place was standing at the railing, overseeing the crowds that had already finished filling into the arcus. Persephone followed her father's direction as he stood a little off centre and encouraged her and her husband-to-be to stand beside him, putting herself front and centre. Emilia was encouraged to stand back slightly, as young as she was and not used to the attention of thousands staring directly at you. Not to mention the gladiators who now stood in the ring, looking up at the newly arrived royal family.
Not that Persephone was at all used to it, and found herself suddenly nervous.
As if sensing her trepidation, Lord Iason placed a hand on Persephone's, where it rested on his forearm and she look around to smile at him her thanks. The gesture would, to the public look like one of affection, rather than one of calming but she was also glad that he understood her nerves. At least they had each other to get through everything from now on. Regardless of the great love her sister was sad to have missing from her marriage, there was something very nice about knowing she would always now have a supporter in her life - a partner with which to walk it.
Persephone felt her heart swell and she turned back to her audience with all the confidence she might manage; her head held high and her back straight, the white and gold of her attire shimmering in the light.
The carriage ride to the circus was uneventful, if punctuated by light conversation between herself and her father. Concerned with putting on a great front for their family however, it is of one accord that both she and the King Minas focused on greeting and waving to the crowd that had gathered to view the procession of the royal family heading towards the circus. Occasionally, Emilia would attempt to glance to the back to ensure the carriage that carried her dear friend and guest, Lady Selene of Leventi from Taengea, was following. However, with Nicholai's large body close by at her window, the girl's view was limited.
"Nicholai, do ensure that the Lady Selene is escorted to the royal box in the arcus stadium, and she not be left behind." Emilia said, after waving to get her bodyguard's attention, before returning to her father's side, as the carriage rumbled to a stop. Taking the hands of her handmaidens who had been seated to the top with the driver of the carriage, Emilia smiled at Helen and Dawn, both which she had chosen to escort her and who were also dressed in fineries appropriate to slaves and maids of the royal family, she hooked her arm on her father's once he descended.
The princess's heart swelled when she heard the resounding cheer for the royal family - she was impossibly proud of her sister. Persephone did something not many of their gender could say they have done, in running the kingdom despite naysayers. Was there any question as to why the younger one looked up to Persephone that much?
Firmly tucked in King Minas's arm, Emilia picked up the edges of her silken gown, her jewelry clinking in the sun as she followed the lead of her sister and father up the flight of marble stairs, the smile she had on her face almost permanent by then. While many called her elder sister beautiful and graceful beyond compare, Emilia held a far different title - one of joy and happiness, and a smile that was as infectious and addictive as the greatest weeds. In recent years, with how often Emilia was now joining her sister in being out with the people, some have even called her the 'meraki' princess, a term of endearment as to how she seemed to be in love with life and its very essence.
Watching and listening as her father addressed the manager, it was a thing that Emilia did often - absorb like a sponge. As the youngest, not many responsibilities fell on her shoulders, and while she enjoyed that, she also knew that she should not appear too flakey for fear of giving her sister a bad image in which she had to deny in the Senate. So Emilia kept a regal image up, chin held high as they eventually made their way to the arcus. The crowd of people that milled made her tense, her spine tightening as the walls closed in - she remembered it, exactly like this before the chaos had broken out in the Taengean circus during the chariot races. That same atmosphere, the same electric excitement that fizzed throughout the area.
And then chaos.
She must have tightened her grip, for King Minas was quick to lay his hand over hers, the warm and wrinkled palm warm over her suddenly cold ones. "Fret not, little one. Father would never let any harm get to you." Instinctively, Emilia turned up, and her eyes glistened when she saw the soft and kind eyes that looked down at her. Eyes that had watched her grow up, and eyes which had laughed at her antics. Eyes which will, in all likelihood, never see her wedding, and never see his grandchildren.
Turning her palm upward, she caught her father's fingers, and gave it a tight squeeze. It was a small gesture that spoke many words. That she would be strong, that she is fine as long as she had her family by her side, and that Emilia was a lot tougher then she let on.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
The carriage ride to the circus was uneventful, if punctuated by light conversation between herself and her father. Concerned with putting on a great front for their family however, it is of one accord that both she and the King Minas focused on greeting and waving to the crowd that had gathered to view the procession of the royal family heading towards the circus. Occasionally, Emilia would attempt to glance to the back to ensure the carriage that carried her dear friend and guest, Lady Selene of Leventi from Taengea, was following. However, with Nicholai's large body close by at her window, the girl's view was limited.
"Nicholai, do ensure that the Lady Selene is escorted to the royal box in the arcus stadium, and she not be left behind." Emilia said, after waving to get her bodyguard's attention, before returning to her father's side, as the carriage rumbled to a stop. Taking the hands of her handmaidens who had been seated to the top with the driver of the carriage, Emilia smiled at Helen and Dawn, both which she had chosen to escort her and who were also dressed in fineries appropriate to slaves and maids of the royal family, she hooked her arm on her father's once he descended.
The princess's heart swelled when she heard the resounding cheer for the royal family - she was impossibly proud of her sister. Persephone did something not many of their gender could say they have done, in running the kingdom despite naysayers. Was there any question as to why the younger one looked up to Persephone that much?
Firmly tucked in King Minas's arm, Emilia picked up the edges of her silken gown, her jewelry clinking in the sun as she followed the lead of her sister and father up the flight of marble stairs, the smile she had on her face almost permanent by then. While many called her elder sister beautiful and graceful beyond compare, Emilia held a far different title - one of joy and happiness, and a smile that was as infectious and addictive as the greatest weeds. In recent years, with how often Emilia was now joining her sister in being out with the people, some have even called her the 'meraki' princess, a term of endearment as to how she seemed to be in love with life and its very essence.
Watching and listening as her father addressed the manager, it was a thing that Emilia did often - absorb like a sponge. As the youngest, not many responsibilities fell on her shoulders, and while she enjoyed that, she also knew that she should not appear too flakey for fear of giving her sister a bad image in which she had to deny in the Senate. So Emilia kept a regal image up, chin held high as they eventually made their way to the arcus. The crowd of people that milled made her tense, her spine tightening as the walls closed in - she remembered it, exactly like this before the chaos had broken out in the Taengean circus during the chariot races. That same atmosphere, the same electric excitement that fizzed throughout the area.
And then chaos.
She must have tightened her grip, for King Minas was quick to lay his hand over hers, the warm and wrinkled palm warm over her suddenly cold ones. "Fret not, little one. Father would never let any harm get to you." Instinctively, Emilia turned up, and her eyes glistened when she saw the soft and kind eyes that looked down at her. Eyes that had watched her grow up, and eyes which had laughed at her antics. Eyes which will, in all likelihood, never see her wedding, and never see his grandchildren.
Turning her palm upward, she caught her father's fingers, and gave it a tight squeeze. It was a small gesture that spoke many words. That she would be strong, that she is fine as long as she had her family by her side, and that Emilia was a lot tougher then she let on.
The carriage ride to the circus was uneventful, if punctuated by light conversation between herself and her father. Concerned with putting on a great front for their family however, it is of one accord that both she and the King Minas focused on greeting and waving to the crowd that had gathered to view the procession of the royal family heading towards the circus. Occasionally, Emilia would attempt to glance to the back to ensure the carriage that carried her dear friend and guest, Lady Selene of Leventi from Taengea, was following. However, with Nicholai's large body close by at her window, the girl's view was limited.
"Nicholai, do ensure that the Lady Selene is escorted to the royal box in the arcus stadium, and she not be left behind." Emilia said, after waving to get her bodyguard's attention, before returning to her father's side, as the carriage rumbled to a stop. Taking the hands of her handmaidens who had been seated to the top with the driver of the carriage, Emilia smiled at Helen and Dawn, both which she had chosen to escort her and who were also dressed in fineries appropriate to slaves and maids of the royal family, she hooked her arm on her father's once he descended.
The princess's heart swelled when she heard the resounding cheer for the royal family - she was impossibly proud of her sister. Persephone did something not many of their gender could say they have done, in running the kingdom despite naysayers. Was there any question as to why the younger one looked up to Persephone that much?
Firmly tucked in King Minas's arm, Emilia picked up the edges of her silken gown, her jewelry clinking in the sun as she followed the lead of her sister and father up the flight of marble stairs, the smile she had on her face almost permanent by then. While many called her elder sister beautiful and graceful beyond compare, Emilia held a far different title - one of joy and happiness, and a smile that was as infectious and addictive as the greatest weeds. In recent years, with how often Emilia was now joining her sister in being out with the people, some have even called her the 'meraki' princess, a term of endearment as to how she seemed to be in love with life and its very essence.
Watching and listening as her father addressed the manager, it was a thing that Emilia did often - absorb like a sponge. As the youngest, not many responsibilities fell on her shoulders, and while she enjoyed that, she also knew that she should not appear too flakey for fear of giving her sister a bad image in which she had to deny in the Senate. So Emilia kept a regal image up, chin held high as they eventually made their way to the arcus. The crowd of people that milled made her tense, her spine tightening as the walls closed in - she remembered it, exactly like this before the chaos had broken out in the Taengean circus during the chariot races. That same atmosphere, the same electric excitement that fizzed throughout the area.
And then chaos.
She must have tightened her grip, for King Minas was quick to lay his hand over hers, the warm and wrinkled palm warm over her suddenly cold ones. "Fret not, little one. Father would never let any harm get to you." Instinctively, Emilia turned up, and her eyes glistened when she saw the soft and kind eyes that looked down at her. Eyes that had watched her grow up, and eyes which had laughed at her antics. Eyes which will, in all likelihood, never see her wedding, and never see his grandchildren.
Turning her palm upward, she caught her father's fingers, and gave it a tight squeeze. It was a small gesture that spoke many words. That she would be strong, that she is fine as long as she had her family by her side, and that Emilia was a lot tougher then she let on.
The young slave sat quietly in front with the driver; only giving a soft smile to Emilia and squeezing her hand in return before her eyes were captivated by everything else going on around her. Oh look at everyone wearing their best! The smells! The sounds! Wasn't it all so exciting beyond palace walls! She squirmed a bit, nearly bursting. Her gaze crossing anyone and everyone, but Nic, for fear that it may linger too long.
Oh, there was a certain level of excitement twisting her gut. It was quite the treat to be able to accompany the royal family to such a grand event. Sure she had to pour them wine and make them comfortable by appeasing to their every whim, but-- she also had one of the best spots from which to view the spectacle! Oo oo, and she got to wear her pretty Pretty. The fabric was so white and soft! Lucky her! A small giggle eased pass her lips as the excitement grew. She received a look from Helen, and bowed her head in apology, a rather insincere apology as she was back to looking eager as ever in less than a second. She couldn't help it!
No doubt throughout this grand event Helen would have to chide her a time or two for getting caught up in the performances and the graduer. She often had a tendency of letting her mind drift off, and getting wound up in the events around her. Her one blessing was her ability to keep her mouth shut. Indeed she would do fine, so long as nobody rushed her. When in a tizzy Dawn tended to be a bit clumsy, and that never boded well.
JD
Staff Team
JD
Staff Team
This post was created by our staff team.
Please contact us with your queries and questions.
The young slave sat quietly in front with the driver; only giving a soft smile to Emilia and squeezing her hand in return before her eyes were captivated by everything else going on around her. Oh look at everyone wearing their best! The smells! The sounds! Wasn't it all so exciting beyond palace walls! She squirmed a bit, nearly bursting. Her gaze crossing anyone and everyone, but Nic, for fear that it may linger too long.
Oh, there was a certain level of excitement twisting her gut. It was quite the treat to be able to accompany the royal family to such a grand event. Sure she had to pour them wine and make them comfortable by appeasing to their every whim, but-- she also had one of the best spots from which to view the spectacle! Oo oo, and she got to wear her pretty Pretty. The fabric was so white and soft! Lucky her! A small giggle eased pass her lips as the excitement grew. She received a look from Helen, and bowed her head in apology, a rather insincere apology as she was back to looking eager as ever in less than a second. She couldn't help it!
No doubt throughout this grand event Helen would have to chide her a time or two for getting caught up in the performances and the graduer. She often had a tendency of letting her mind drift off, and getting wound up in the events around her. Her one blessing was her ability to keep her mouth shut. Indeed she would do fine, so long as nobody rushed her. When in a tizzy Dawn tended to be a bit clumsy, and that never boded well.
The young slave sat quietly in front with the driver; only giving a soft smile to Emilia and squeezing her hand in return before her eyes were captivated by everything else going on around her. Oh look at everyone wearing their best! The smells! The sounds! Wasn't it all so exciting beyond palace walls! She squirmed a bit, nearly bursting. Her gaze crossing anyone and everyone, but Nic, for fear that it may linger too long.
Oh, there was a certain level of excitement twisting her gut. It was quite the treat to be able to accompany the royal family to such a grand event. Sure she had to pour them wine and make them comfortable by appeasing to their every whim, but-- she also had one of the best spots from which to view the spectacle! Oo oo, and she got to wear her pretty Pretty. The fabric was so white and soft! Lucky her! A small giggle eased pass her lips as the excitement grew. She received a look from Helen, and bowed her head in apology, a rather insincere apology as she was back to looking eager as ever in less than a second. She couldn't help it!
No doubt throughout this grand event Helen would have to chide her a time or two for getting caught up in the performances and the graduer. She often had a tendency of letting her mind drift off, and getting wound up in the events around her. Her one blessing was her ability to keep her mouth shut. Indeed she would do fine, so long as nobody rushed her. When in a tizzy Dawn tended to be a bit clumsy, and that never boded well.
Her presence hadn't been expected.
No, she was supposed to start her voyage home two days prior, but the Gods had others plans for Selene. Between poor weather in the slips and the sweet begging of Princess Emilia, the party had no real choice but to stay a few extra days. And that meant that they would be able to attend the Festival thrown by the royal family. The past week had been spent watching the city prepare, most of them unconcerned by the recent violence at Taengea's own festival. And, for the most part, it was easy for her to get caught up in the excitement of the city. The increased vendors and goods had her in the city almost daily with the princess, unable to stop herself from finding gifts for each of her sisters, as well as plenty of offerings for the Gods.
The night before, she had been asked by the king to entertain them with her talent on the harp. And, at first, she had been hesitant, but after Emilia had brought her the finest one to borrow, she couldn't help herself. And the music had done her good, and she had played for close to an hour before everyone's attention turned elsewhere. She had not been the planned entertainment, but she certainly had been one of the favorites. Her fingertips itched in memory, missing the sting of the strings against the small callouses that had formed on them. Jo and one of the servants attending to her were setting her hair, and all Selene could think about was how nice it had been to feel normal the night before. Back home, most evenings were spent as a family, with the sisters all taking turns in the leisurely duty of entertaining. Their mother thought it proper that the girls know how to captivate a crowd, and nothing was more desirable than a woman who could do more than just converse.
Now, sitting as Jo and the servant she had been allowed to use were setting her hair, Selene was thinking of home. When she had left, repairs were well underway. But the tension among the wealthy had been palpable. They were all worried about their safety, no longer feeling like a single guard was enough protection. The few times her father had allowed her to roam about the market, it had been with several large guards following closely behind. There was no trust, not even within the wealthy. She had barely wanted to be outside the safety of her home. And when she was, she had only wished to get done and return home. She wondered, if 3 weeks later, it would still be as violiale. Would it still feel like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop?
The new cream and pink chiton was the finest she had ever owned, and she had decided to wear it at the suggestion of Emilia. As an official guest of the royal family, she needed to look the part. And the color made her hair seem as if it was spun from gold. She loved how pretty it made her look, and the confidence from that would be required to make it through the day.
Bangles on her wrists and hoops in her ears, Selene was the part of nobility. And, as she was handed up into the fine carriage of the Xanthos family, she felt like it.
This time, she didn’t wave, instead staying behind the curtains of the parade. This wasn’t her party, after all, so she and Jo didn’t need to draw attention to themselves.
She was surprised, however, to find Nicholai waiting to offer her his hand. Her smile was sweet, her demeanor softening a bit at the consideration from Emilia. “Ah, good sir, I was hoping to see a friendly face.” She was thankful for the support, for this wasn’t exactly a climb she was ready to make on her own.
Her heart quickened with the noise.
Maybe this was a mistake.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Her presence hadn't been expected.
No, she was supposed to start her voyage home two days prior, but the Gods had others plans for Selene. Between poor weather in the slips and the sweet begging of Princess Emilia, the party had no real choice but to stay a few extra days. And that meant that they would be able to attend the Festival thrown by the royal family. The past week had been spent watching the city prepare, most of them unconcerned by the recent violence at Taengea's own festival. And, for the most part, it was easy for her to get caught up in the excitement of the city. The increased vendors and goods had her in the city almost daily with the princess, unable to stop herself from finding gifts for each of her sisters, as well as plenty of offerings for the Gods.
The night before, she had been asked by the king to entertain them with her talent on the harp. And, at first, she had been hesitant, but after Emilia had brought her the finest one to borrow, she couldn't help herself. And the music had done her good, and she had played for close to an hour before everyone's attention turned elsewhere. She had not been the planned entertainment, but she certainly had been one of the favorites. Her fingertips itched in memory, missing the sting of the strings against the small callouses that had formed on them. Jo and one of the servants attending to her were setting her hair, and all Selene could think about was how nice it had been to feel normal the night before. Back home, most evenings were spent as a family, with the sisters all taking turns in the leisurely duty of entertaining. Their mother thought it proper that the girls know how to captivate a crowd, and nothing was more desirable than a woman who could do more than just converse.
Now, sitting as Jo and the servant she had been allowed to use were setting her hair, Selene was thinking of home. When she had left, repairs were well underway. But the tension among the wealthy had been palpable. They were all worried about their safety, no longer feeling like a single guard was enough protection. The few times her father had allowed her to roam about the market, it had been with several large guards following closely behind. There was no trust, not even within the wealthy. She had barely wanted to be outside the safety of her home. And when she was, she had only wished to get done and return home. She wondered, if 3 weeks later, it would still be as violiale. Would it still feel like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop?
The new cream and pink chiton was the finest she had ever owned, and she had decided to wear it at the suggestion of Emilia. As an official guest of the royal family, she needed to look the part. And the color made her hair seem as if it was spun from gold. She loved how pretty it made her look, and the confidence from that would be required to make it through the day.
Bangles on her wrists and hoops in her ears, Selene was the part of nobility. And, as she was handed up into the fine carriage of the Xanthos family, she felt like it.
This time, she didn’t wave, instead staying behind the curtains of the parade. This wasn’t her party, after all, so she and Jo didn’t need to draw attention to themselves.
She was surprised, however, to find Nicholai waiting to offer her his hand. Her smile was sweet, her demeanor softening a bit at the consideration from Emilia. “Ah, good sir, I was hoping to see a friendly face.” She was thankful for the support, for this wasn’t exactly a climb she was ready to make on her own.
Her heart quickened with the noise.
Maybe this was a mistake.
Her presence hadn't been expected.
No, she was supposed to start her voyage home two days prior, but the Gods had others plans for Selene. Between poor weather in the slips and the sweet begging of Princess Emilia, the party had no real choice but to stay a few extra days. And that meant that they would be able to attend the Festival thrown by the royal family. The past week had been spent watching the city prepare, most of them unconcerned by the recent violence at Taengea's own festival. And, for the most part, it was easy for her to get caught up in the excitement of the city. The increased vendors and goods had her in the city almost daily with the princess, unable to stop herself from finding gifts for each of her sisters, as well as plenty of offerings for the Gods.
The night before, she had been asked by the king to entertain them with her talent on the harp. And, at first, she had been hesitant, but after Emilia had brought her the finest one to borrow, she couldn't help herself. And the music had done her good, and she had played for close to an hour before everyone's attention turned elsewhere. She had not been the planned entertainment, but she certainly had been one of the favorites. Her fingertips itched in memory, missing the sting of the strings against the small callouses that had formed on them. Jo and one of the servants attending to her were setting her hair, and all Selene could think about was how nice it had been to feel normal the night before. Back home, most evenings were spent as a family, with the sisters all taking turns in the leisurely duty of entertaining. Their mother thought it proper that the girls know how to captivate a crowd, and nothing was more desirable than a woman who could do more than just converse.
Now, sitting as Jo and the servant she had been allowed to use were setting her hair, Selene was thinking of home. When she had left, repairs were well underway. But the tension among the wealthy had been palpable. They were all worried about their safety, no longer feeling like a single guard was enough protection. The few times her father had allowed her to roam about the market, it had been with several large guards following closely behind. There was no trust, not even within the wealthy. She had barely wanted to be outside the safety of her home. And when she was, she had only wished to get done and return home. She wondered, if 3 weeks later, it would still be as violiale. Would it still feel like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop?
The new cream and pink chiton was the finest she had ever owned, and she had decided to wear it at the suggestion of Emilia. As an official guest of the royal family, she needed to look the part. And the color made her hair seem as if it was spun from gold. She loved how pretty it made her look, and the confidence from that would be required to make it through the day.
Bangles on her wrists and hoops in her ears, Selene was the part of nobility. And, as she was handed up into the fine carriage of the Xanthos family, she felt like it.
This time, she didn’t wave, instead staying behind the curtains of the parade. This wasn’t her party, after all, so she and Jo didn’t need to draw attention to themselves.
She was surprised, however, to find Nicholai waiting to offer her his hand. Her smile was sweet, her demeanor softening a bit at the consideration from Emilia. “Ah, good sir, I was hoping to see a friendly face.” She was thankful for the support, for this wasn’t exactly a climb she was ready to make on her own.
Her heart quickened with the noise.
Maybe this was a mistake.
Riding Megálo, his big gelding on the far side of the carriage, from where Dawn was perched beside the driver, Nic stole quite a few glances at Dawn, hiding a smile at her eagerness. He was half afraid that her head would pop right off her shoulder if she didn’t stop swiveling it this way and that. He’d noticed that she wore a new gown, one that he liked the way she looked in. Not as nice as what Persephone or even Emilia was wearing, but to him, Dawn was the loveliest woman in the city, or even the world.
Nic wasn’t exactly that happy about being Selene’s escort rather than being at Emilia’s side, and therefore also at the king’s… And by Dawn’s side too his treacherous heart reminded him. But he was kind enough to not to take it out on Selene, since it wasn’t her fault. Holding out one of his hands for her to place hers in as she stepped from the carriage, Nicholai returned her smile with a warm one of his own. “I believe that is why the princess sent me to you.” He guided her towards the seats reserved for her, her hand tucked into the crook of his arm, Sensing her sudden unease, Nic didn’t look down at her, but he did lay his free hand over hers, patting her fingers gently. “Breathe.” He murmured, “I will not let anything happen to you.”
JD
Staff Team
JD
Staff Team
This post was created by our staff team.
Please contact us with your queries and questions.
Riding Megálo, his big gelding on the far side of the carriage, from where Dawn was perched beside the driver, Nic stole quite a few glances at Dawn, hiding a smile at her eagerness. He was half afraid that her head would pop right off her shoulder if she didn’t stop swiveling it this way and that. He’d noticed that she wore a new gown, one that he liked the way she looked in. Not as nice as what Persephone or even Emilia was wearing, but to him, Dawn was the loveliest woman in the city, or even the world.
Nic wasn’t exactly that happy about being Selene’s escort rather than being at Emilia’s side, and therefore also at the king’s… And by Dawn’s side too his treacherous heart reminded him. But he was kind enough to not to take it out on Selene, since it wasn’t her fault. Holding out one of his hands for her to place hers in as she stepped from the carriage, Nicholai returned her smile with a warm one of his own. “I believe that is why the princess sent me to you.” He guided her towards the seats reserved for her, her hand tucked into the crook of his arm, Sensing her sudden unease, Nic didn’t look down at her, but he did lay his free hand over hers, patting her fingers gently. “Breathe.” He murmured, “I will not let anything happen to you.”
Riding Megálo, his big gelding on the far side of the carriage, from where Dawn was perched beside the driver, Nic stole quite a few glances at Dawn, hiding a smile at her eagerness. He was half afraid that her head would pop right off her shoulder if she didn’t stop swiveling it this way and that. He’d noticed that she wore a new gown, one that he liked the way she looked in. Not as nice as what Persephone or even Emilia was wearing, but to him, Dawn was the loveliest woman in the city, or even the world.
Nic wasn’t exactly that happy about being Selene’s escort rather than being at Emilia’s side, and therefore also at the king’s… And by Dawn’s side too his treacherous heart reminded him. But he was kind enough to not to take it out on Selene, since it wasn’t her fault. Holding out one of his hands for her to place hers in as she stepped from the carriage, Nicholai returned her smile with a warm one of his own. “I believe that is why the princess sent me to you.” He guided her towards the seats reserved for her, her hand tucked into the crook of his arm, Sensing her sudden unease, Nic didn’t look down at her, but he did lay his free hand over hers, patting her fingers gently. “Breathe.” He murmured, “I will not let anything happen to you.”
