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Pia felt relief as Vangelis told her to rest a moment longer while they prepared to leave. With Desma's help she settled back onto the bed, the break in contractions a welcome repose and she closed her eyes with her hands resting on her stomach as the older woman bustled about searching for things they would need to take with them. A sprig of chamomile was pressed into her hand, and as Desma wrapped up a few other herbs and supplies for the birth, she explained that while this would not slow down the labor, it would do as well as anything else to ease the pain and help her stay relaxed.
Chewing the herb as instructed, the queen could feel another pain rising after a while and though she had promised to be as quiet as she could, this one was far more intense than the others even with the effects of the herb. With a cry of pain, she tried to stifle it as much as possible while her stomach felt as if it was being squeezed in a vice grip, as if one of the gods had gripped her belly and were trying to force the child out on their own will. With a frown, Desma hurried from the room and left her alone, unable to catch her breath as tears ran down her cheeks.
The older woman emerged into the main room after the guards had been dispatched, not blinking twice at the sight of the blood and change of clothing, addressing the crown prince, king, and lady before her in hurried tones that didn't entirely drown out the sound of suffering from the other room. Her lady was in for it now, and the longer they waited the less time between these episodes they would have.
"Your highnesses, the best chance you have to leave the palace is between this pain and the next. They're growing stronger. Once she can stand again, you must go." Her attention turned to Lady Selene with a sad smile, and she held out the small basket of things she had prepared in the room. "I know I cannot go with her, this will help as much as anything to take care of my lady."
It was only after she received an affirmative response that Olympia should be up and moving that Desma returned to help Olympia stand, wiping sweat and tears from the girl's face before easing her up and wrapping the cloak around her shoulders. Allowing the pregnant woman to lean on her as much as her old bones could allow, Desma assisted Pia out to the last chamber in the rooms before giving them all one final look. With a nod, she opened the door and tutted out into the corridor, headed in the direction opposite where Vangelis would try to sneak them out and making a loud fuss to draw attention from where the royals would be found.
Drawing herself up to standing fully, Pia steeled herself with a deep breath before pulling the hood of the cloak up over her head. They had to leave now while she could still walk on her own, she had been briefed to the extent that her nursemaid knew, and though she was terrified to give birth without her constant companion, to give her child a chance at survival she had to do this without her.
"I'm ready. Which way?"
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Pia felt relief as Vangelis told her to rest a moment longer while they prepared to leave. With Desma's help she settled back onto the bed, the break in contractions a welcome repose and she closed her eyes with her hands resting on her stomach as the older woman bustled about searching for things they would need to take with them. A sprig of chamomile was pressed into her hand, and as Desma wrapped up a few other herbs and supplies for the birth, she explained that while this would not slow down the labor, it would do as well as anything else to ease the pain and help her stay relaxed.
Chewing the herb as instructed, the queen could feel another pain rising after a while and though she had promised to be as quiet as she could, this one was far more intense than the others even with the effects of the herb. With a cry of pain, she tried to stifle it as much as possible while her stomach felt as if it was being squeezed in a vice grip, as if one of the gods had gripped her belly and were trying to force the child out on their own will. With a frown, Desma hurried from the room and left her alone, unable to catch her breath as tears ran down her cheeks.
The older woman emerged into the main room after the guards had been dispatched, not blinking twice at the sight of the blood and change of clothing, addressing the crown prince, king, and lady before her in hurried tones that didn't entirely drown out the sound of suffering from the other room. Her lady was in for it now, and the longer they waited the less time between these episodes they would have.
"Your highnesses, the best chance you have to leave the palace is between this pain and the next. They're growing stronger. Once she can stand again, you must go." Her attention turned to Lady Selene with a sad smile, and she held out the small basket of things she had prepared in the room. "I know I cannot go with her, this will help as much as anything to take care of my lady."
It was only after she received an affirmative response that Olympia should be up and moving that Desma returned to help Olympia stand, wiping sweat and tears from the girl's face before easing her up and wrapping the cloak around her shoulders. Allowing the pregnant woman to lean on her as much as her old bones could allow, Desma assisted Pia out to the last chamber in the rooms before giving them all one final look. With a nod, she opened the door and tutted out into the corridor, headed in the direction opposite where Vangelis would try to sneak them out and making a loud fuss to draw attention from where the royals would be found.
Drawing herself up to standing fully, Pia steeled herself with a deep breath before pulling the hood of the cloak up over her head. They had to leave now while she could still walk on her own, she had been briefed to the extent that her nursemaid knew, and though she was terrified to give birth without her constant companion, to give her child a chance at survival she had to do this without her.
"I'm ready. Which way?"
Pia felt relief as Vangelis told her to rest a moment longer while they prepared to leave. With Desma's help she settled back onto the bed, the break in contractions a welcome repose and she closed her eyes with her hands resting on her stomach as the older woman bustled about searching for things they would need to take with them. A sprig of chamomile was pressed into her hand, and as Desma wrapped up a few other herbs and supplies for the birth, she explained that while this would not slow down the labor, it would do as well as anything else to ease the pain and help her stay relaxed.
Chewing the herb as instructed, the queen could feel another pain rising after a while and though she had promised to be as quiet as she could, this one was far more intense than the others even with the effects of the herb. With a cry of pain, she tried to stifle it as much as possible while her stomach felt as if it was being squeezed in a vice grip, as if one of the gods had gripped her belly and were trying to force the child out on their own will. With a frown, Desma hurried from the room and left her alone, unable to catch her breath as tears ran down her cheeks.
The older woman emerged into the main room after the guards had been dispatched, not blinking twice at the sight of the blood and change of clothing, addressing the crown prince, king, and lady before her in hurried tones that didn't entirely drown out the sound of suffering from the other room. Her lady was in for it now, and the longer they waited the less time between these episodes they would have.
"Your highnesses, the best chance you have to leave the palace is between this pain and the next. They're growing stronger. Once she can stand again, you must go." Her attention turned to Lady Selene with a sad smile, and she held out the small basket of things she had prepared in the room. "I know I cannot go with her, this will help as much as anything to take care of my lady."
It was only after she received an affirmative response that Olympia should be up and moving that Desma returned to help Olympia stand, wiping sweat and tears from the girl's face before easing her up and wrapping the cloak around her shoulders. Allowing the pregnant woman to lean on her as much as her old bones could allow, Desma assisted Pia out to the last chamber in the rooms before giving them all one final look. With a nod, she opened the door and tutted out into the corridor, headed in the direction opposite where Vangelis would try to sneak them out and making a loud fuss to draw attention from where the royals would be found.
Drawing herself up to standing fully, Pia steeled herself with a deep breath before pulling the hood of the cloak up over her head. They had to leave now while she could still walk on her own, she had been briefed to the extent that her nursemaid knew, and though she was terrified to give birth without her constant companion, to give her child a chance at survival she had to do this without her.
"I'm ready. Which way?"
He grinned when Selene punched him on the shoulder and made like he might do it back to her, but the moment passed when Olympia’s dragon shuffled into the room. His smile faded as the reality of what they were about to do re-settled into his mind. In the momentary excitement of seeing Vangelis and now having the ability to escape, he hadn’t made it around to the part where they needed to actually do it. Properly composed now, he eschewed the elation from himself and squared his shoulders.
The deaths of his guards was a sad thing, but it was between him and them. He watched without comment as they were dispatched and then accepted the sword handed to him. Attaching it to his belt, he waited for Desma to bring out Olympia.
As he watched his wife walk out of the room with the help of her nursemaid, he found himself proud of her, and refused to allow himself to feel any fear for her. There was no room or time for those kinds of thoughts. She must walk. There was no other choice, for the time being. Once outside the palati, if they made it that far, he’d be happy to carry her if she needed or wanted.
Though where they were meant to go from Vasiliadon was still a mystery. They were in danger as long as they stayed in Taengea itself. While he did not want to leave...it had probably come to that.
He glanced from his wife to her sister, and then to Vangelis and the men with him. Drawing in a breath, he let it out and answered his wife’s question. “Right.” At least...that’s the way he would have taken usually. Glancing at Vangelis, he raised his eyebrows in a silent question as to whether or not that direction was even safe at this point. A silent, grave nod, and then Stephanos asked verbally, “Where from there?”
The palati had so many corridors, so many ways they could go, but with the Egyptians and the palati full of guests at the moment, not to mention Irkales’s presence, he wasn’t entirely sure which way was more heavily guarded. When Vangelis told him “Straight out the main gate,” Stephanos stared at him for just a second. Mentally he went through every corridor that would take them that way. All of which had guards - or should, at least. However, he hadn’t been out of this room in days, out of it this night, specifically.
Vangelis was no fool. If he said out of the main gate, then out of the main gate they would go.
Nodding, Stephanos waited by the door for the others to get behind him, then he opened the door and strode straight out of in, only marginally expecting to get impaled. When that did not happen, and the corridor to either side was empty, he breathed a silent sigh of relief through his nose, promised literally every god in the pantheon that he would pray more, and moved to the right.
He prayed that Athena walked with them now to give them wisdom, Ares for courage, Hermes for swiftness, and Eileithyia, the goddess who watched over pregnant women to help his poor wife along this daunting journey they had ahead of them. And lastly, he wished Hypnos could put all the guards to sleep because that would be just fucking wonderful.
The helmet he wore, that all his guards wore, was a fearsome thing to behold. Made of bronze, with side pieces extending down to protect the cheeks and a guard for the nose, it balance well on a man’s head, though he did not know how it would do for Selene. He hoped it wasn’t slipping all over the place, or, if it was, that she was able to walk in such a way as to keep it steady. All the helmets had a crest of scarlet red, made of horsehair, which rendered the wearer terrifying in the midst of battle, and not only represented the house of Mikaelidas, but was a tribute to the god of war as well.
The helmet was also heavy and even with the added slits beside the eyes, he still didn’t have full range of vision. At the first crossways of the corridors, he looked right and left. Up to now, he’d been walking at a healthy clip - not too fast in case they drew attention should someone come down the hall, and not slow, for the exact same reason. They were in guard uniforms. There was no reason to sneak. But even with the helmet, if he got close enough, someone might recognize his eyes and the lower half of his face. And Selene’s predicament was worse than that. In no universe did she look like a man. She was too beautiful. The lower half of her face would never stand up to scrutiny.
Because there were no guards at the moment, he risked looking back to Vangelis and shrugged both shoulders, holding up his hands to chest level in a ‘Which way?’ Once he had the direction, he strode to the left. The gods were with them as he saw, with a mixture of relief and anger, that the two guards passed out along the end of this hall. They were breathing and they looked to be sleeping off their drink. If he wasn’t working on escaping, he’d have them executed. The dedication in this palati was severely lacking.
Looked like Irakles wasn’t so perfect after all, if he couldn’t force his guards to do their job, he thought snarkily.
They met with no resistance whatsoever until they came to the next corridor where the guards immediately snapped to attention and peered at Olympia behind him. “Where are you taking the queen?” one demanded. “She’s to stay in the king’s rooms.”
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He grinned when Selene punched him on the shoulder and made like he might do it back to her, but the moment passed when Olympia’s dragon shuffled into the room. His smile faded as the reality of what they were about to do re-settled into his mind. In the momentary excitement of seeing Vangelis and now having the ability to escape, he hadn’t made it around to the part where they needed to actually do it. Properly composed now, he eschewed the elation from himself and squared his shoulders.
The deaths of his guards was a sad thing, but it was between him and them. He watched without comment as they were dispatched and then accepted the sword handed to him. Attaching it to his belt, he waited for Desma to bring out Olympia.
As he watched his wife walk out of the room with the help of her nursemaid, he found himself proud of her, and refused to allow himself to feel any fear for her. There was no room or time for those kinds of thoughts. She must walk. There was no other choice, for the time being. Once outside the palati, if they made it that far, he’d be happy to carry her if she needed or wanted.
Though where they were meant to go from Vasiliadon was still a mystery. They were in danger as long as they stayed in Taengea itself. While he did not want to leave...it had probably come to that.
He glanced from his wife to her sister, and then to Vangelis and the men with him. Drawing in a breath, he let it out and answered his wife’s question. “Right.” At least...that’s the way he would have taken usually. Glancing at Vangelis, he raised his eyebrows in a silent question as to whether or not that direction was even safe at this point. A silent, grave nod, and then Stephanos asked verbally, “Where from there?”
The palati had so many corridors, so many ways they could go, but with the Egyptians and the palati full of guests at the moment, not to mention Irkales’s presence, he wasn’t entirely sure which way was more heavily guarded. When Vangelis told him “Straight out the main gate,” Stephanos stared at him for just a second. Mentally he went through every corridor that would take them that way. All of which had guards - or should, at least. However, he hadn’t been out of this room in days, out of it this night, specifically.
Vangelis was no fool. If he said out of the main gate, then out of the main gate they would go.
Nodding, Stephanos waited by the door for the others to get behind him, then he opened the door and strode straight out of in, only marginally expecting to get impaled. When that did not happen, and the corridor to either side was empty, he breathed a silent sigh of relief through his nose, promised literally every god in the pantheon that he would pray more, and moved to the right.
He prayed that Athena walked with them now to give them wisdom, Ares for courage, Hermes for swiftness, and Eileithyia, the goddess who watched over pregnant women to help his poor wife along this daunting journey they had ahead of them. And lastly, he wished Hypnos could put all the guards to sleep because that would be just fucking wonderful.
The helmet he wore, that all his guards wore, was a fearsome thing to behold. Made of bronze, with side pieces extending down to protect the cheeks and a guard for the nose, it balance well on a man’s head, though he did not know how it would do for Selene. He hoped it wasn’t slipping all over the place, or, if it was, that she was able to walk in such a way as to keep it steady. All the helmets had a crest of scarlet red, made of horsehair, which rendered the wearer terrifying in the midst of battle, and not only represented the house of Mikaelidas, but was a tribute to the god of war as well.
The helmet was also heavy and even with the added slits beside the eyes, he still didn’t have full range of vision. At the first crossways of the corridors, he looked right and left. Up to now, he’d been walking at a healthy clip - not too fast in case they drew attention should someone come down the hall, and not slow, for the exact same reason. They were in guard uniforms. There was no reason to sneak. But even with the helmet, if he got close enough, someone might recognize his eyes and the lower half of his face. And Selene’s predicament was worse than that. In no universe did she look like a man. She was too beautiful. The lower half of her face would never stand up to scrutiny.
Because there were no guards at the moment, he risked looking back to Vangelis and shrugged both shoulders, holding up his hands to chest level in a ‘Which way?’ Once he had the direction, he strode to the left. The gods were with them as he saw, with a mixture of relief and anger, that the two guards passed out along the end of this hall. They were breathing and they looked to be sleeping off their drink. If he wasn’t working on escaping, he’d have them executed. The dedication in this palati was severely lacking.
Looked like Irakles wasn’t so perfect after all, if he couldn’t force his guards to do their job, he thought snarkily.
They met with no resistance whatsoever until they came to the next corridor where the guards immediately snapped to attention and peered at Olympia behind him. “Where are you taking the queen?” one demanded. “She’s to stay in the king’s rooms.”
He grinned when Selene punched him on the shoulder and made like he might do it back to her, but the moment passed when Olympia’s dragon shuffled into the room. His smile faded as the reality of what they were about to do re-settled into his mind. In the momentary excitement of seeing Vangelis and now having the ability to escape, he hadn’t made it around to the part where they needed to actually do it. Properly composed now, he eschewed the elation from himself and squared his shoulders.
The deaths of his guards was a sad thing, but it was between him and them. He watched without comment as they were dispatched and then accepted the sword handed to him. Attaching it to his belt, he waited for Desma to bring out Olympia.
As he watched his wife walk out of the room with the help of her nursemaid, he found himself proud of her, and refused to allow himself to feel any fear for her. There was no room or time for those kinds of thoughts. She must walk. There was no other choice, for the time being. Once outside the palati, if they made it that far, he’d be happy to carry her if she needed or wanted.
Though where they were meant to go from Vasiliadon was still a mystery. They were in danger as long as they stayed in Taengea itself. While he did not want to leave...it had probably come to that.
He glanced from his wife to her sister, and then to Vangelis and the men with him. Drawing in a breath, he let it out and answered his wife’s question. “Right.” At least...that’s the way he would have taken usually. Glancing at Vangelis, he raised his eyebrows in a silent question as to whether or not that direction was even safe at this point. A silent, grave nod, and then Stephanos asked verbally, “Where from there?”
The palati had so many corridors, so many ways they could go, but with the Egyptians and the palati full of guests at the moment, not to mention Irkales’s presence, he wasn’t entirely sure which way was more heavily guarded. When Vangelis told him “Straight out the main gate,” Stephanos stared at him for just a second. Mentally he went through every corridor that would take them that way. All of which had guards - or should, at least. However, he hadn’t been out of this room in days, out of it this night, specifically.
Vangelis was no fool. If he said out of the main gate, then out of the main gate they would go.
Nodding, Stephanos waited by the door for the others to get behind him, then he opened the door and strode straight out of in, only marginally expecting to get impaled. When that did not happen, and the corridor to either side was empty, he breathed a silent sigh of relief through his nose, promised literally every god in the pantheon that he would pray more, and moved to the right.
He prayed that Athena walked with them now to give them wisdom, Ares for courage, Hermes for swiftness, and Eileithyia, the goddess who watched over pregnant women to help his poor wife along this daunting journey they had ahead of them. And lastly, he wished Hypnos could put all the guards to sleep because that would be just fucking wonderful.
The helmet he wore, that all his guards wore, was a fearsome thing to behold. Made of bronze, with side pieces extending down to protect the cheeks and a guard for the nose, it balance well on a man’s head, though he did not know how it would do for Selene. He hoped it wasn’t slipping all over the place, or, if it was, that she was able to walk in such a way as to keep it steady. All the helmets had a crest of scarlet red, made of horsehair, which rendered the wearer terrifying in the midst of battle, and not only represented the house of Mikaelidas, but was a tribute to the god of war as well.
The helmet was also heavy and even with the added slits beside the eyes, he still didn’t have full range of vision. At the first crossways of the corridors, he looked right and left. Up to now, he’d been walking at a healthy clip - not too fast in case they drew attention should someone come down the hall, and not slow, for the exact same reason. They were in guard uniforms. There was no reason to sneak. But even with the helmet, if he got close enough, someone might recognize his eyes and the lower half of his face. And Selene’s predicament was worse than that. In no universe did she look like a man. She was too beautiful. The lower half of her face would never stand up to scrutiny.
Because there were no guards at the moment, he risked looking back to Vangelis and shrugged both shoulders, holding up his hands to chest level in a ‘Which way?’ Once he had the direction, he strode to the left. The gods were with them as he saw, with a mixture of relief and anger, that the two guards passed out along the end of this hall. They were breathing and they looked to be sleeping off their drink. If he wasn’t working on escaping, he’d have them executed. The dedication in this palati was severely lacking.
Looked like Irakles wasn’t so perfect after all, if he couldn’t force his guards to do their job, he thought snarkily.
They met with no resistance whatsoever until they came to the next corridor where the guards immediately snapped to attention and peered at Olympia behind him. “Where are you taking the queen?” one demanded. “She’s to stay in the king’s rooms.”
She knew that he was putting a lot on the line to assist the King and Queen. And it wasn’t until her own confrontation with him that his mind seemed to be changed. Selene, while uneducated in the true politics of kings and men, wasn’t so foolish not to finally recognize that there was much at stake for him and the rest should they fail. Each time he looked at her, the hard edge to his stare brought a bit of shame to her. He was only doing this because she had so viciously attacked anything she had thought may wound him.
Selene would later reflect on the true meaning of her actions. On how she had been so sure he would save the day again that his initial refusal had all but betrayed the notion of him she had built in her mind. On the true danger in what she was asking him to do. On the reasons she felt it had been so safe to talk to him as if they were equals, when he could have had her killed for her impassioned but highly personal speech. On the way his arms felt around her as she collapsed against him in defeat.
Now, her focus needed to be on ensuring his sacrifice wasn’t in vain.
As he stepped up to her, cupping her cheeks, she didn’t look away. No, she deserved the intensity of his gaze, pained and angry. Her eyes were locked into his, unable to deny that the moment, even in its obvious discontented heat, was intimate. As upset as he was with her, each swipe was gently made, each trace of thumb on cheekbone done with care. Selene wanted to comment, to make the situation feel not so heavy between them. But it was, wasn’t it? He was going against every intuition and instinct to do this, and she couldn’t help but feel the weight of it. His hands dropped, the first task done, and then the scarf was wrapped around her face, covering up the feminine curves of her lips and chin. Time was critical, but that didn’t stop her from reaching up and grabbing his hand, stopping him long enough for their eyes to meet. ”Thank you.” She said, hopefully loud enough that he would hear.
Helmet slapped on her head, she once more focused on the task at hand.
Walk straight. Don’t sway. She could do that, with a nod, she watched carefully as he moved to the guards who had provided the cover. Selene’s eyes went wide, because it suddenly became very apparent that these would not be the first lives lost in this plan. People would die, more than just the king and queen. Another burden she would have to carry in this.
Because of that, she almost ignored his request. She should see the light go from their eyes, as she was practically their executioner. But a second glance at Vangelis made her think twice, so she spun on her heels and did as he asked.
The guttural sounds of death were quite punishment enough.
Selene turned back, pale and a little lightheaded, just as he was wiping the blood and handing her the knife. There was hesitation— her knowledge with a blade was incredibly limited. But the look in his eyes told her to take it. She didn’t even realize she had until it was in her hand. Looking down at it, more and more of the weight of her choice was crashing down on her. Could she kill to protect those she loved? Would she?
His guard, knowing the hurry in their actions, didn’t waste time as he added the sheath to her disguise. And she didn’t admonish him for not asking permission first.
It was then that Desma entered the room, pressing the basket with instructions into her hands. She tried to focus on them, tried to remember the exact directions. Lavender and chamomile to relax, clary sage to increase the contractions once they were safe— but all she could do was think of the consequences. That the old lady would most likely die, too. She gave her a quick embrace before Pia stepped out. Instantly, Selene was at her side, adjusting the cloak a bit. ”We are to take you. Just follow us. Perhaps we can manage into between pains.” she wanted to whisper a suggestion to cry a bit— men seemed wary of a woman in tears. And perhaps it would keep other guards from asking questions.
But before she could give the advice, they were leaving through the front doors.
As they walked through the halls, she couldn’t help but noticed the ones she had worked her magic on. Between her flirting the morning before and Jo’s offering of mead and wine, the number of guards along their path was lessened. ”Good,” she whispered deeply to Pia, ”I was concerned Jo wouldn’t have enough.” Her slave was pretty, and Selene would have to make sure to thank her accordingly. The only reason she had allowed her involvement was because Alastair would see her safely to the docks, where she would wait for him and Selene to return with Pia.
They came around another corner, and she froze, hand gripping the arm of her sister. She was trying to think of an excuse, trying to come up with something to say.
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She knew that he was putting a lot on the line to assist the King and Queen. And it wasn’t until her own confrontation with him that his mind seemed to be changed. Selene, while uneducated in the true politics of kings and men, wasn’t so foolish not to finally recognize that there was much at stake for him and the rest should they fail. Each time he looked at her, the hard edge to his stare brought a bit of shame to her. He was only doing this because she had so viciously attacked anything she had thought may wound him.
Selene would later reflect on the true meaning of her actions. On how she had been so sure he would save the day again that his initial refusal had all but betrayed the notion of him she had built in her mind. On the true danger in what she was asking him to do. On the reasons she felt it had been so safe to talk to him as if they were equals, when he could have had her killed for her impassioned but highly personal speech. On the way his arms felt around her as she collapsed against him in defeat.
Now, her focus needed to be on ensuring his sacrifice wasn’t in vain.
As he stepped up to her, cupping her cheeks, she didn’t look away. No, she deserved the intensity of his gaze, pained and angry. Her eyes were locked into his, unable to deny that the moment, even in its obvious discontented heat, was intimate. As upset as he was with her, each swipe was gently made, each trace of thumb on cheekbone done with care. Selene wanted to comment, to make the situation feel not so heavy between them. But it was, wasn’t it? He was going against every intuition and instinct to do this, and she couldn’t help but feel the weight of it. His hands dropped, the first task done, and then the scarf was wrapped around her face, covering up the feminine curves of her lips and chin. Time was critical, but that didn’t stop her from reaching up and grabbing his hand, stopping him long enough for their eyes to meet. ”Thank you.” She said, hopefully loud enough that he would hear.
Helmet slapped on her head, she once more focused on the task at hand.
Walk straight. Don’t sway. She could do that, with a nod, she watched carefully as he moved to the guards who had provided the cover. Selene’s eyes went wide, because it suddenly became very apparent that these would not be the first lives lost in this plan. People would die, more than just the king and queen. Another burden she would have to carry in this.
Because of that, she almost ignored his request. She should see the light go from their eyes, as she was practically their executioner. But a second glance at Vangelis made her think twice, so she spun on her heels and did as he asked.
The guttural sounds of death were quite punishment enough.
Selene turned back, pale and a little lightheaded, just as he was wiping the blood and handing her the knife. There was hesitation— her knowledge with a blade was incredibly limited. But the look in his eyes told her to take it. She didn’t even realize she had until it was in her hand. Looking down at it, more and more of the weight of her choice was crashing down on her. Could she kill to protect those she loved? Would she?
His guard, knowing the hurry in their actions, didn’t waste time as he added the sheath to her disguise. And she didn’t admonish him for not asking permission first.
It was then that Desma entered the room, pressing the basket with instructions into her hands. She tried to focus on them, tried to remember the exact directions. Lavender and chamomile to relax, clary sage to increase the contractions once they were safe— but all she could do was think of the consequences. That the old lady would most likely die, too. She gave her a quick embrace before Pia stepped out. Instantly, Selene was at her side, adjusting the cloak a bit. ”We are to take you. Just follow us. Perhaps we can manage into between pains.” she wanted to whisper a suggestion to cry a bit— men seemed wary of a woman in tears. And perhaps it would keep other guards from asking questions.
But before she could give the advice, they were leaving through the front doors.
As they walked through the halls, she couldn’t help but noticed the ones she had worked her magic on. Between her flirting the morning before and Jo’s offering of mead and wine, the number of guards along their path was lessened. ”Good,” she whispered deeply to Pia, ”I was concerned Jo wouldn’t have enough.” Her slave was pretty, and Selene would have to make sure to thank her accordingly. The only reason she had allowed her involvement was because Alastair would see her safely to the docks, where she would wait for him and Selene to return with Pia.
They came around another corner, and she froze, hand gripping the arm of her sister. She was trying to think of an excuse, trying to come up with something to say.
She knew that he was putting a lot on the line to assist the King and Queen. And it wasn’t until her own confrontation with him that his mind seemed to be changed. Selene, while uneducated in the true politics of kings and men, wasn’t so foolish not to finally recognize that there was much at stake for him and the rest should they fail. Each time he looked at her, the hard edge to his stare brought a bit of shame to her. He was only doing this because she had so viciously attacked anything she had thought may wound him.
Selene would later reflect on the true meaning of her actions. On how she had been so sure he would save the day again that his initial refusal had all but betrayed the notion of him she had built in her mind. On the true danger in what she was asking him to do. On the reasons she felt it had been so safe to talk to him as if they were equals, when he could have had her killed for her impassioned but highly personal speech. On the way his arms felt around her as she collapsed against him in defeat.
Now, her focus needed to be on ensuring his sacrifice wasn’t in vain.
As he stepped up to her, cupping her cheeks, she didn’t look away. No, she deserved the intensity of his gaze, pained and angry. Her eyes were locked into his, unable to deny that the moment, even in its obvious discontented heat, was intimate. As upset as he was with her, each swipe was gently made, each trace of thumb on cheekbone done with care. Selene wanted to comment, to make the situation feel not so heavy between them. But it was, wasn’t it? He was going against every intuition and instinct to do this, and she couldn’t help but feel the weight of it. His hands dropped, the first task done, and then the scarf was wrapped around her face, covering up the feminine curves of her lips and chin. Time was critical, but that didn’t stop her from reaching up and grabbing his hand, stopping him long enough for their eyes to meet. ”Thank you.” She said, hopefully loud enough that he would hear.
Helmet slapped on her head, she once more focused on the task at hand.
Walk straight. Don’t sway. She could do that, with a nod, she watched carefully as he moved to the guards who had provided the cover. Selene’s eyes went wide, because it suddenly became very apparent that these would not be the first lives lost in this plan. People would die, more than just the king and queen. Another burden she would have to carry in this.
Because of that, she almost ignored his request. She should see the light go from their eyes, as she was practically their executioner. But a second glance at Vangelis made her think twice, so she spun on her heels and did as he asked.
The guttural sounds of death were quite punishment enough.
Selene turned back, pale and a little lightheaded, just as he was wiping the blood and handing her the knife. There was hesitation— her knowledge with a blade was incredibly limited. But the look in his eyes told her to take it. She didn’t even realize she had until it was in her hand. Looking down at it, more and more of the weight of her choice was crashing down on her. Could she kill to protect those she loved? Would she?
His guard, knowing the hurry in their actions, didn’t waste time as he added the sheath to her disguise. And she didn’t admonish him for not asking permission first.
It was then that Desma entered the room, pressing the basket with instructions into her hands. She tried to focus on them, tried to remember the exact directions. Lavender and chamomile to relax, clary sage to increase the contractions once they were safe— but all she could do was think of the consequences. That the old lady would most likely die, too. She gave her a quick embrace before Pia stepped out. Instantly, Selene was at her side, adjusting the cloak a bit. ”We are to take you. Just follow us. Perhaps we can manage into between pains.” she wanted to whisper a suggestion to cry a bit— men seemed wary of a woman in tears. And perhaps it would keep other guards from asking questions.
But before she could give the advice, they were leaving through the front doors.
As they walked through the halls, she couldn’t help but noticed the ones she had worked her magic on. Between her flirting the morning before and Jo’s offering of mead and wine, the number of guards along their path was lessened. ”Good,” she whispered deeply to Pia, ”I was concerned Jo wouldn’t have enough.” Her slave was pretty, and Selene would have to make sure to thank her accordingly. The only reason she had allowed her involvement was because Alastair would see her safely to the docks, where she would wait for him and Selene to return with Pia.
They came around another corner, and she froze, hand gripping the arm of her sister. She was trying to think of an excuse, trying to come up with something to say.
When Selene caught at his hand, Vangelis stilled in his process of putting the helmet on her head. But only long enough for her to murmur the words of thanks. His nod in response was so slight it was almost imperceivable. The rest of his actions followed through with the speed of efficiency, in a manner that suggested he had not heard, nor responded, to her gratitude. This wasn't the place to talk of this or to consider the connection he now had with Selene. Their friendship had now changed and Vangelis had a suspicion he knew what to, but he wasn't about to try and deeply analyse his feelings for her - or lack thereof, whichever it turned out to be - right here and now in the middle of a rescue operation. His mind just wasn't in a position to think in that manner, already rigged to judge his surroundings with the eye of a warrior, rather than a man.
The Queen was brought out into the main chamber and Vangelis was, once again, impressed by her determination. He watched as the nursemaid was smart enough to recognise that her presence with the Queen would not only be suspicious for a prisoner transfer but also a burden to their speed. That if she loved her mistress, she would be better off staying behind where her presence would be less of a threat. Selene took the small basket from her hands but Vangelis removed it quickly and handed it to one of his own men. Ecktor and Furon now still in the garb of palace servants and would be leaving them to their escape, walking out through servants' quarters without anyone stopping them regardless of notice. No-one in the palace would recognise them and no-one would stop a servant clearly on his night time duties.
With a brief nod of instruction, the two men left the room, carrying the basket that would look far less suspicious in their hands than that of a guardsman's and - to their credit - only hesitated a moment in leaving Vangelis. It was their duty to protect the crown prince. But it was also their duty to obey his orders. And they only paused momentarily when the two conflicted. They had known the plan ahead of time and Vangelis knew this to be the moment they had disliked the idea of. But there were only two guards’ uniforms available and they could only bring with them what they could easily wear or risk bulky, clanking bags of armour. It was the easiest way to get everyone out with the minimum amount of risk.
Ecktor and Furon left immediately after Desma, intending on doing the same thing - causing minor distractions that would not fall back on them, nor identify who they were, and would then simply walk out a servants exit and meet them outside and around the corner, where a carriage had been arranged to deliver the entire group from the palati to the docks.
When Stephanos then turned to Vangelis and asked which way to go, Vangelis had grinned a little and offered an arrogant tilt to his head.
"Straight out the front door." He told the man. "The guards are limited for appearances sake with the Egyptians. Once out the front gates, only the walking patrols on the roof will see us and by then they'll assume a party walking at a calm pace will have already been interrogated by the guards inside. They're trained to spot attack and escape, not casual movements of guards and patrols." He turned to look at Olympia. ”Just keep your hood up when outside. The angle of their view and your cloak will make you hard to recognise, even with your babe.”
When the two of them nodded and Stephanos began to lead his little family out of the chambers, Vangelis murmured that he would be around to help but they needed to make it to outside without him. He melted into the shadows a little, as the three of them walked down the corridors at a calm and careful pace, with Vangelis lurking just a turn or a pathway behind, a wraith in their wake that could watch for any issues that might occur.
Vangelis was pleased, and unsurprised, that Stephanos knew what he was doing. He stopped at every junction to check what was there, security wise. He paused or dodged around certain corners in order to avoid as many guards as possible. The ones that were there, he determined to walk straight passed without any hint of guilt or suspicion. Even Selene was managing to walk a little less like a lady, though she was slightly robotic.
Very aware of their limited time between Olympia's moments of physical pain - if she gave a cry now they were all done for; guards would come running in every direction - Vangelis kept himself at the back of the party, a corner or corridor behind them, ensuring that he wasn't seen in their presence. He could not have himself identified as being a part of the small group who had led the Queen from the palace. Instead, he timed the group, assessed how far they still had to go, watched as the guards they managed to successfully pass looked at one another or murmured something in suspicion but never allowed their doubts to rise high enough to act. Stephanos' confidence and step as a military man was clearly very convincing.
They managed almost the entire way to the main doors, before one group of guards - stronger in number, for there were three of them - were brave enough to step up and realise something was amiss in the Queen being moved. Vangelis kept where he was, behind a pillar a little ways off, as he checked to see if they could handle it themselves.
He saw Stephanos' lips move, clearly speaking quietly so as not to have his voice travel. Vangelis was no lip-reader but he spotted a few words and knew the King was explaining (hopefully in a voice that was unlike his own) that the Queen was being transferred on Prince Irakles' orders. When it looked like the guards were suspicious of such instructions and moving closer to assess the guardsman who was indeed their King, Vangelis' gut told him that this was a little too close for comfort and he quickly stepped forward into the corridor.
"You there!"
His voice carried down the hallway - hopefully only to the men it was aimed at and not every other patrolling soldier in the palace. Vangelis stormed down the corridor towards them, his carriage straight, his weapons impressive and his expression stormy.
"I have been waiting to speak with the King for over an hour. What precisely is your excuse for having me seated in some chamber in the middle of the night without consideration and my request for an audience ignored?"
Whether it was his direct question, his stomping stride or his facial features twisted into an expression of angry irritation - not a good look on the Blood General of Colchis - the men who had been staring intently at Stephanos now had their eyes firmly rooted on the charging bull approaching their position.
"Prince Irakles said I was permitted an audience. An audience is what I would lik-" He cut off as he drew closer to the group. "For Gods sake, what are you still doing here? The Prince ordered her moved an hour go. Get out of my way." His words were accompanied by an imperious throw out of his hand in the direction Stephanos needed to go, before pointing a directive finger at the man whose mouth was still open as if he wanted to stop them, firmly drawing his attention from the retreating group, to Vangelis accusatory tone.
"You are going to stand here and explain to me why the crown prince of Colchis has been waiting without refreshment or explanation. I had thought the timing of my visit was indicative enough that this was a matter of some urgency. I don’t make house calls in the middle of the night for no reason. Yet I am told that - despite the King being on house arrest - he is unable to be seen. What have you done? Lost him?"
"No, my Lord- I mean, Your Highness. I only just came on duty I don't know-"
"And that's your excuse is it?" Vangelis demanded, his voice damning and harsh as he watched the little group leave from his peripheral, the other two guards glancing between the departing Queen and Vangelis clearly believing that should double check the circumstances with the prisoner but not wishing to bring down the wrath of the Colchian laying into the comrade.
It was natural human instinct. Vangelis had learnt it well over the years. The threat immediately before you was always more controlling and determining than any potential threat you could envision in the future. Regardless of the severity of either.
"Soldiers in Colchis are alert and aware the second they are on duty. They also don't slouch." This last he directed over the man's shoulder at one of his peers, who instantly straightened his spine.
The fact that this anger and interrogation of the palati guard was entirely out of character for Vangelis mattered not. These men had no idea who he was, they had never met him on a personal level. Instead, all they knew was that he was the Colchian crown prince, that he was known as the Blood General and that now, he was very angry with them in particular. It was enough to hold their attention for far long enough for Stephanos to lead his little family beyond the final corner that would eventually take them outside and onto the street where a carriage was waiting down and around the palati wall out of sight. It would take them to the docks without him for now...
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When Selene caught at his hand, Vangelis stilled in his process of putting the helmet on her head. But only long enough for her to murmur the words of thanks. His nod in response was so slight it was almost imperceivable. The rest of his actions followed through with the speed of efficiency, in a manner that suggested he had not heard, nor responded, to her gratitude. This wasn't the place to talk of this or to consider the connection he now had with Selene. Their friendship had now changed and Vangelis had a suspicion he knew what to, but he wasn't about to try and deeply analyse his feelings for her - or lack thereof, whichever it turned out to be - right here and now in the middle of a rescue operation. His mind just wasn't in a position to think in that manner, already rigged to judge his surroundings with the eye of a warrior, rather than a man.
The Queen was brought out into the main chamber and Vangelis was, once again, impressed by her determination. He watched as the nursemaid was smart enough to recognise that her presence with the Queen would not only be suspicious for a prisoner transfer but also a burden to their speed. That if she loved her mistress, she would be better off staying behind where her presence would be less of a threat. Selene took the small basket from her hands but Vangelis removed it quickly and handed it to one of his own men. Ecktor and Furon now still in the garb of palace servants and would be leaving them to their escape, walking out through servants' quarters without anyone stopping them regardless of notice. No-one in the palace would recognise them and no-one would stop a servant clearly on his night time duties.
With a brief nod of instruction, the two men left the room, carrying the basket that would look far less suspicious in their hands than that of a guardsman's and - to their credit - only hesitated a moment in leaving Vangelis. It was their duty to protect the crown prince. But it was also their duty to obey his orders. And they only paused momentarily when the two conflicted. They had known the plan ahead of time and Vangelis knew this to be the moment they had disliked the idea of. But there were only two guards’ uniforms available and they could only bring with them what they could easily wear or risk bulky, clanking bags of armour. It was the easiest way to get everyone out with the minimum amount of risk.
Ecktor and Furon left immediately after Desma, intending on doing the same thing - causing minor distractions that would not fall back on them, nor identify who they were, and would then simply walk out a servants exit and meet them outside and around the corner, where a carriage had been arranged to deliver the entire group from the palati to the docks.
When Stephanos then turned to Vangelis and asked which way to go, Vangelis had grinned a little and offered an arrogant tilt to his head.
"Straight out the front door." He told the man. "The guards are limited for appearances sake with the Egyptians. Once out the front gates, only the walking patrols on the roof will see us and by then they'll assume a party walking at a calm pace will have already been interrogated by the guards inside. They're trained to spot attack and escape, not casual movements of guards and patrols." He turned to look at Olympia. ”Just keep your hood up when outside. The angle of their view and your cloak will make you hard to recognise, even with your babe.”
When the two of them nodded and Stephanos began to lead his little family out of the chambers, Vangelis murmured that he would be around to help but they needed to make it to outside without him. He melted into the shadows a little, as the three of them walked down the corridors at a calm and careful pace, with Vangelis lurking just a turn or a pathway behind, a wraith in their wake that could watch for any issues that might occur.
Vangelis was pleased, and unsurprised, that Stephanos knew what he was doing. He stopped at every junction to check what was there, security wise. He paused or dodged around certain corners in order to avoid as many guards as possible. The ones that were there, he determined to walk straight passed without any hint of guilt or suspicion. Even Selene was managing to walk a little less like a lady, though she was slightly robotic.
Very aware of their limited time between Olympia's moments of physical pain - if she gave a cry now they were all done for; guards would come running in every direction - Vangelis kept himself at the back of the party, a corner or corridor behind them, ensuring that he wasn't seen in their presence. He could not have himself identified as being a part of the small group who had led the Queen from the palace. Instead, he timed the group, assessed how far they still had to go, watched as the guards they managed to successfully pass looked at one another or murmured something in suspicion but never allowed their doubts to rise high enough to act. Stephanos' confidence and step as a military man was clearly very convincing.
They managed almost the entire way to the main doors, before one group of guards - stronger in number, for there were three of them - were brave enough to step up and realise something was amiss in the Queen being moved. Vangelis kept where he was, behind a pillar a little ways off, as he checked to see if they could handle it themselves.
He saw Stephanos' lips move, clearly speaking quietly so as not to have his voice travel. Vangelis was no lip-reader but he spotted a few words and knew the King was explaining (hopefully in a voice that was unlike his own) that the Queen was being transferred on Prince Irakles' orders. When it looked like the guards were suspicious of such instructions and moving closer to assess the guardsman who was indeed their King, Vangelis' gut told him that this was a little too close for comfort and he quickly stepped forward into the corridor.
"You there!"
His voice carried down the hallway - hopefully only to the men it was aimed at and not every other patrolling soldier in the palace. Vangelis stormed down the corridor towards them, his carriage straight, his weapons impressive and his expression stormy.
"I have been waiting to speak with the King for over an hour. What precisely is your excuse for having me seated in some chamber in the middle of the night without consideration and my request for an audience ignored?"
Whether it was his direct question, his stomping stride or his facial features twisted into an expression of angry irritation - not a good look on the Blood General of Colchis - the men who had been staring intently at Stephanos now had their eyes firmly rooted on the charging bull approaching their position.
"Prince Irakles said I was permitted an audience. An audience is what I would lik-" He cut off as he drew closer to the group. "For Gods sake, what are you still doing here? The Prince ordered her moved an hour go. Get out of my way." His words were accompanied by an imperious throw out of his hand in the direction Stephanos needed to go, before pointing a directive finger at the man whose mouth was still open as if he wanted to stop them, firmly drawing his attention from the retreating group, to Vangelis accusatory tone.
"You are going to stand here and explain to me why the crown prince of Colchis has been waiting without refreshment or explanation. I had thought the timing of my visit was indicative enough that this was a matter of some urgency. I don’t make house calls in the middle of the night for no reason. Yet I am told that - despite the King being on house arrest - he is unable to be seen. What have you done? Lost him?"
"No, my Lord- I mean, Your Highness. I only just came on duty I don't know-"
"And that's your excuse is it?" Vangelis demanded, his voice damning and harsh as he watched the little group leave from his peripheral, the other two guards glancing between the departing Queen and Vangelis clearly believing that should double check the circumstances with the prisoner but not wishing to bring down the wrath of the Colchian laying into the comrade.
It was natural human instinct. Vangelis had learnt it well over the years. The threat immediately before you was always more controlling and determining than any potential threat you could envision in the future. Regardless of the severity of either.
"Soldiers in Colchis are alert and aware the second they are on duty. They also don't slouch." This last he directed over the man's shoulder at one of his peers, who instantly straightened his spine.
The fact that this anger and interrogation of the palati guard was entirely out of character for Vangelis mattered not. These men had no idea who he was, they had never met him on a personal level. Instead, all they knew was that he was the Colchian crown prince, that he was known as the Blood General and that now, he was very angry with them in particular. It was enough to hold their attention for far long enough for Stephanos to lead his little family beyond the final corner that would eventually take them outside and onto the street where a carriage was waiting down and around the palati wall out of sight. It would take them to the docks without him for now...
When Selene caught at his hand, Vangelis stilled in his process of putting the helmet on her head. But only long enough for her to murmur the words of thanks. His nod in response was so slight it was almost imperceivable. The rest of his actions followed through with the speed of efficiency, in a manner that suggested he had not heard, nor responded, to her gratitude. This wasn't the place to talk of this or to consider the connection he now had with Selene. Their friendship had now changed and Vangelis had a suspicion he knew what to, but he wasn't about to try and deeply analyse his feelings for her - or lack thereof, whichever it turned out to be - right here and now in the middle of a rescue operation. His mind just wasn't in a position to think in that manner, already rigged to judge his surroundings with the eye of a warrior, rather than a man.
The Queen was brought out into the main chamber and Vangelis was, once again, impressed by her determination. He watched as the nursemaid was smart enough to recognise that her presence with the Queen would not only be suspicious for a prisoner transfer but also a burden to their speed. That if she loved her mistress, she would be better off staying behind where her presence would be less of a threat. Selene took the small basket from her hands but Vangelis removed it quickly and handed it to one of his own men. Ecktor and Furon now still in the garb of palace servants and would be leaving them to their escape, walking out through servants' quarters without anyone stopping them regardless of notice. No-one in the palace would recognise them and no-one would stop a servant clearly on his night time duties.
With a brief nod of instruction, the two men left the room, carrying the basket that would look far less suspicious in their hands than that of a guardsman's and - to their credit - only hesitated a moment in leaving Vangelis. It was their duty to protect the crown prince. But it was also their duty to obey his orders. And they only paused momentarily when the two conflicted. They had known the plan ahead of time and Vangelis knew this to be the moment they had disliked the idea of. But there were only two guards’ uniforms available and they could only bring with them what they could easily wear or risk bulky, clanking bags of armour. It was the easiest way to get everyone out with the minimum amount of risk.
Ecktor and Furon left immediately after Desma, intending on doing the same thing - causing minor distractions that would not fall back on them, nor identify who they were, and would then simply walk out a servants exit and meet them outside and around the corner, where a carriage had been arranged to deliver the entire group from the palati to the docks.
When Stephanos then turned to Vangelis and asked which way to go, Vangelis had grinned a little and offered an arrogant tilt to his head.
"Straight out the front door." He told the man. "The guards are limited for appearances sake with the Egyptians. Once out the front gates, only the walking patrols on the roof will see us and by then they'll assume a party walking at a calm pace will have already been interrogated by the guards inside. They're trained to spot attack and escape, not casual movements of guards and patrols." He turned to look at Olympia. ”Just keep your hood up when outside. The angle of their view and your cloak will make you hard to recognise, even with your babe.”
When the two of them nodded and Stephanos began to lead his little family out of the chambers, Vangelis murmured that he would be around to help but they needed to make it to outside without him. He melted into the shadows a little, as the three of them walked down the corridors at a calm and careful pace, with Vangelis lurking just a turn or a pathway behind, a wraith in their wake that could watch for any issues that might occur.
Vangelis was pleased, and unsurprised, that Stephanos knew what he was doing. He stopped at every junction to check what was there, security wise. He paused or dodged around certain corners in order to avoid as many guards as possible. The ones that were there, he determined to walk straight passed without any hint of guilt or suspicion. Even Selene was managing to walk a little less like a lady, though she was slightly robotic.
Very aware of their limited time between Olympia's moments of physical pain - if she gave a cry now they were all done for; guards would come running in every direction - Vangelis kept himself at the back of the party, a corner or corridor behind them, ensuring that he wasn't seen in their presence. He could not have himself identified as being a part of the small group who had led the Queen from the palace. Instead, he timed the group, assessed how far they still had to go, watched as the guards they managed to successfully pass looked at one another or murmured something in suspicion but never allowed their doubts to rise high enough to act. Stephanos' confidence and step as a military man was clearly very convincing.
They managed almost the entire way to the main doors, before one group of guards - stronger in number, for there were three of them - were brave enough to step up and realise something was amiss in the Queen being moved. Vangelis kept where he was, behind a pillar a little ways off, as he checked to see if they could handle it themselves.
He saw Stephanos' lips move, clearly speaking quietly so as not to have his voice travel. Vangelis was no lip-reader but he spotted a few words and knew the King was explaining (hopefully in a voice that was unlike his own) that the Queen was being transferred on Prince Irakles' orders. When it looked like the guards were suspicious of such instructions and moving closer to assess the guardsman who was indeed their King, Vangelis' gut told him that this was a little too close for comfort and he quickly stepped forward into the corridor.
"You there!"
His voice carried down the hallway - hopefully only to the men it was aimed at and not every other patrolling soldier in the palace. Vangelis stormed down the corridor towards them, his carriage straight, his weapons impressive and his expression stormy.
"I have been waiting to speak with the King for over an hour. What precisely is your excuse for having me seated in some chamber in the middle of the night without consideration and my request for an audience ignored?"
Whether it was his direct question, his stomping stride or his facial features twisted into an expression of angry irritation - not a good look on the Blood General of Colchis - the men who had been staring intently at Stephanos now had their eyes firmly rooted on the charging bull approaching their position.
"Prince Irakles said I was permitted an audience. An audience is what I would lik-" He cut off as he drew closer to the group. "For Gods sake, what are you still doing here? The Prince ordered her moved an hour go. Get out of my way." His words were accompanied by an imperious throw out of his hand in the direction Stephanos needed to go, before pointing a directive finger at the man whose mouth was still open as if he wanted to stop them, firmly drawing his attention from the retreating group, to Vangelis accusatory tone.
"You are going to stand here and explain to me why the crown prince of Colchis has been waiting without refreshment or explanation. I had thought the timing of my visit was indicative enough that this was a matter of some urgency. I don’t make house calls in the middle of the night for no reason. Yet I am told that - despite the King being on house arrest - he is unable to be seen. What have you done? Lost him?"
"No, my Lord- I mean, Your Highness. I only just came on duty I don't know-"
"And that's your excuse is it?" Vangelis demanded, his voice damning and harsh as he watched the little group leave from his peripheral, the other two guards glancing between the departing Queen and Vangelis clearly believing that should double check the circumstances with the prisoner but not wishing to bring down the wrath of the Colchian laying into the comrade.
It was natural human instinct. Vangelis had learnt it well over the years. The threat immediately before you was always more controlling and determining than any potential threat you could envision in the future. Regardless of the severity of either.
"Soldiers in Colchis are alert and aware the second they are on duty. They also don't slouch." This last he directed over the man's shoulder at one of his peers, who instantly straightened his spine.
The fact that this anger and interrogation of the palati guard was entirely out of character for Vangelis mattered not. These men had no idea who he was, they had never met him on a personal level. Instead, all they knew was that he was the Colchian crown prince, that he was known as the Blood General and that now, he was very angry with them in particular. It was enough to hold their attention for far long enough for Stephanos to lead his little family beyond the final corner that would eventually take them outside and onto the street where a carriage was waiting down and around the palati wall out of sight. It would take them to the docks without him for now...
Lifting the hood of her cloak over her hair as Vangelis instructed, Olympia took a deep breath and followed her husband into the hall, looking over her shoulder at the retreating back of her old nursemaid and the other guards before biting her lip and turning forward. This was her only chance to survive, and no matter how terrifying this escape attempt was, at least they were giving it a fighting shot. Her stomach felt tense and the movement was not easy, but she tried her best to keep at the same pace as the others, holding her arms protectively across herself.
The trip through the halls felt smooth enough, they walked past several sleeping guards and she glanced over at Selene with a slight smile, a giddy leap in her heart as they got closer to freedom. Everything that these people had done for her, for her family, the risks that they were all taking in trying to save their lives, it was making her emotional to think of it. Vangelis and Selene had not needed to take such chances to help them, nor did Alastair and Desma and the guards that had come along with the prince. So many lives would be lost instead of just her own and Stephanos' if this went wrong.
Pia gasped in surprise as the soldier's voices rang out through the hall, her sister's grip on her arm pulling her to a halt as her lip trembled, trying not to burst into tears. She stayed silent, certain in those moments that this was the end for them all until Vangelis' voice boomed through the hall. Turning to look at him, she pursed her lips as he strode forward and addressed the guards in a tone she had never heard before, but didn't seem at all unfamiliar to him. This was who he was, how he had gained the reputation of being a Stone Prince, and though she felt a pain starting low in her belly she drew herself up to her full height as if she could lend any sort of additional power to the moment.
"I assure you, your highness, when my husband is in his rightful place, such a slight would not go unpunished." With an irritated glance at either side of her, she made a show of shaking off her sister's grip and huffing imperiously. "I grow weary of standing, or have none of you the decency to allow a woman with child to rest?"
She took the lead this time, striding past the men who were getting berated until they were around the corner, staying to let Selene and Stephanos catch up and trying to breathe as the pain grew stronger, leaning against the wall to collect herself. When she looked up to them she shook her head, afraid of what might come out if she opened her mouth. They had to be quick, even though this pain in particular had been fleeting, the contraction receding as quickly as it had come on, there was no guarantee the next would be as kind. The end was in sight, and she pulled herself upright as the small group finished the walk through the palati halls and out onto the street.
Fresh air hit her and she took a deep gasp of it in, letting Selene and Stephanos guide her now to the carriage and giving a strained cry that was a mix of relief, terror, pain, and sadness. She was leaving behind everything she had known in doing this, leaving most of her family, all of her friends, everything she loved and held dear. In spite of Selene's extensive travelling, she had never been outside of Taengea before in her life, and to think that she was now about to leave for perhaps forever, that her child would not be born here with her mother and sisters around her, without Desma to hold her hand, it felt as if her heart was breaking. As soon as she could, Pia curled against her husband, tears streaming down her cheeks as she waited for the next pain, uncertain now of what to do without her nursemaid to guide her.
With the help of sister and husband she made the painful journey from carriage to ship, trying to keep them both close as they settled her upon the bed in an otherwise empty cabin. If she had to do this now, he needed the people he loved most with her.
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Lifting the hood of her cloak over her hair as Vangelis instructed, Olympia took a deep breath and followed her husband into the hall, looking over her shoulder at the retreating back of her old nursemaid and the other guards before biting her lip and turning forward. This was her only chance to survive, and no matter how terrifying this escape attempt was, at least they were giving it a fighting shot. Her stomach felt tense and the movement was not easy, but she tried her best to keep at the same pace as the others, holding her arms protectively across herself.
The trip through the halls felt smooth enough, they walked past several sleeping guards and she glanced over at Selene with a slight smile, a giddy leap in her heart as they got closer to freedom. Everything that these people had done for her, for her family, the risks that they were all taking in trying to save their lives, it was making her emotional to think of it. Vangelis and Selene had not needed to take such chances to help them, nor did Alastair and Desma and the guards that had come along with the prince. So many lives would be lost instead of just her own and Stephanos' if this went wrong.
Pia gasped in surprise as the soldier's voices rang out through the hall, her sister's grip on her arm pulling her to a halt as her lip trembled, trying not to burst into tears. She stayed silent, certain in those moments that this was the end for them all until Vangelis' voice boomed through the hall. Turning to look at him, she pursed her lips as he strode forward and addressed the guards in a tone she had never heard before, but didn't seem at all unfamiliar to him. This was who he was, how he had gained the reputation of being a Stone Prince, and though she felt a pain starting low in her belly she drew herself up to her full height as if she could lend any sort of additional power to the moment.
"I assure you, your highness, when my husband is in his rightful place, such a slight would not go unpunished." With an irritated glance at either side of her, she made a show of shaking off her sister's grip and huffing imperiously. "I grow weary of standing, or have none of you the decency to allow a woman with child to rest?"
She took the lead this time, striding past the men who were getting berated until they were around the corner, staying to let Selene and Stephanos catch up and trying to breathe as the pain grew stronger, leaning against the wall to collect herself. When she looked up to them she shook her head, afraid of what might come out if she opened her mouth. They had to be quick, even though this pain in particular had been fleeting, the contraction receding as quickly as it had come on, there was no guarantee the next would be as kind. The end was in sight, and she pulled herself upright as the small group finished the walk through the palati halls and out onto the street.
Fresh air hit her and she took a deep gasp of it in, letting Selene and Stephanos guide her now to the carriage and giving a strained cry that was a mix of relief, terror, pain, and sadness. She was leaving behind everything she had known in doing this, leaving most of her family, all of her friends, everything she loved and held dear. In spite of Selene's extensive travelling, she had never been outside of Taengea before in her life, and to think that she was now about to leave for perhaps forever, that her child would not be born here with her mother and sisters around her, without Desma to hold her hand, it felt as if her heart was breaking. As soon as she could, Pia curled against her husband, tears streaming down her cheeks as she waited for the next pain, uncertain now of what to do without her nursemaid to guide her.
With the help of sister and husband she made the painful journey from carriage to ship, trying to keep them both close as they settled her upon the bed in an otherwise empty cabin. If she had to do this now, he needed the people he loved most with her.
Lifting the hood of her cloak over her hair as Vangelis instructed, Olympia took a deep breath and followed her husband into the hall, looking over her shoulder at the retreating back of her old nursemaid and the other guards before biting her lip and turning forward. This was her only chance to survive, and no matter how terrifying this escape attempt was, at least they were giving it a fighting shot. Her stomach felt tense and the movement was not easy, but she tried her best to keep at the same pace as the others, holding her arms protectively across herself.
The trip through the halls felt smooth enough, they walked past several sleeping guards and she glanced over at Selene with a slight smile, a giddy leap in her heart as they got closer to freedom. Everything that these people had done for her, for her family, the risks that they were all taking in trying to save their lives, it was making her emotional to think of it. Vangelis and Selene had not needed to take such chances to help them, nor did Alastair and Desma and the guards that had come along with the prince. So many lives would be lost instead of just her own and Stephanos' if this went wrong.
Pia gasped in surprise as the soldier's voices rang out through the hall, her sister's grip on her arm pulling her to a halt as her lip trembled, trying not to burst into tears. She stayed silent, certain in those moments that this was the end for them all until Vangelis' voice boomed through the hall. Turning to look at him, she pursed her lips as he strode forward and addressed the guards in a tone she had never heard before, but didn't seem at all unfamiliar to him. This was who he was, how he had gained the reputation of being a Stone Prince, and though she felt a pain starting low in her belly she drew herself up to her full height as if she could lend any sort of additional power to the moment.
"I assure you, your highness, when my husband is in his rightful place, such a slight would not go unpunished." With an irritated glance at either side of her, she made a show of shaking off her sister's grip and huffing imperiously. "I grow weary of standing, or have none of you the decency to allow a woman with child to rest?"
She took the lead this time, striding past the men who were getting berated until they were around the corner, staying to let Selene and Stephanos catch up and trying to breathe as the pain grew stronger, leaning against the wall to collect herself. When she looked up to them she shook her head, afraid of what might come out if she opened her mouth. They had to be quick, even though this pain in particular had been fleeting, the contraction receding as quickly as it had come on, there was no guarantee the next would be as kind. The end was in sight, and she pulled herself upright as the small group finished the walk through the palati halls and out onto the street.
Fresh air hit her and she took a deep gasp of it in, letting Selene and Stephanos guide her now to the carriage and giving a strained cry that was a mix of relief, terror, pain, and sadness. She was leaving behind everything she had known in doing this, leaving most of her family, all of her friends, everything she loved and held dear. In spite of Selene's extensive travelling, she had never been outside of Taengea before in her life, and to think that she was now about to leave for perhaps forever, that her child would not be born here with her mother and sisters around her, without Desma to hold her hand, it felt as if her heart was breaking. As soon as she could, Pia curled against her husband, tears streaming down her cheeks as she waited for the next pain, uncertain now of what to do without her nursemaid to guide her.
With the help of sister and husband she made the painful journey from carriage to ship, trying to keep them both close as they settled her upon the bed in an otherwise empty cabin. If she had to do this now, he needed the people he loved most with her.
She wasn't sure how long she had been pacing.
Nike was a loyal soldier, a bodyguard who performed above and beyond the expectations placed on her. It was perhaps, because of that, that the Kotas family had eventually ended up entrusting her with the life of their crown prince and eldest son, and why eventually, Nike had came to protect him with her own life if necessary. Being away from him was something she was used to, if not necessarily her favorite thing to do. Being away from him while he embroiled himself in a possibly dangerous situation, both political and in combat, was something the woman absolutely hated.
The woman had protested when Vangelis insisted she went without him to ready the ship, and did so very strongly. It wasn't that she did not trust Ecktor and Furon, for they both had been trained personally by her. It was that she didn't trust him. He was talented, a very capable fighter who fought and strategized with more then just his muscles. It was why Nike had come to admire him more as she fought beside him over the past decade. But it was also why Nike knew of his habit of dashing head first into matters, even when it was highly capable of killing him. It was as if the man had been born with no bone of fear in his body, which was both a blessing and a curse.
He had been adamant however, and left with little choice, the Commander did as she was told.
In the dead of the night, she collected her belongings, ensured Magnus had readied the two ladies, and proceeded to escort them to the ship she had readied by the docks. Used to navigating the dark, she had led the two horses the ladies sat on by herself, eschewing the use of a carriage for how loud it would be rumbling through the streets of Vasiliadon in the dead of the night. And always by her waist, secure in front of her, was the package he had given her.
It was a familiar scenario. He had done the same back when he had been in the caves during the Boreas storm. He had asked her to take something to deliver in the event of his life being lost to Thanatos. Nike had protested, and fought tooth and nail to make sure Hades had no claim over her General.
She had won before, she would do it again. Already, she knew she would smash whatever it was to dust with the flat of her claymore, and whatever it was, Vangelis could deliver it to the Queen himself.
And if he didn't, Nike would personally ensure he did. Even if she had to fight with the Gods themselves.
Arriving at the docks, she directed the guards to ready the ship to sail at a moment's notice, ensured Athanasia and Imeeya would not leave the deck... and then she stood by the gangplank and waited. The wind whipped at her growing hair, locks that would have to be snipped the moment they arrived at Colchis, and her hand was kept perpetually on the handle of her claymore on her waist. Her eyes were sharp, watching the horizon, shivering only occasionally at the bite of the cold wind.
He had said two hours. Where were they?
Frowns appeared on her forehead at the two hour mark, but as the rumble of a carriage arrived, Nike's tense shoulders and furrowed brows relaxed. Jogging to the arrival of the carriage, she waited whilst the guards she had summoned with her stepped forward to assist. Ecktor and Furon drove the unmarked carriage, but it was another who stepped forward to assist first the lady Selene (who Nike recognized during her stay in Colchis, and would likely have to at some point speak to and see what her fool general had done with her), and then a pregnant lady the Commander assumed was Queen Olympia, followed by her husband, the accused King Stephanos.
And then she waited.
Sharply, Nike turned to Ecktor and Furon, her voice tensed and angry. Vangelis was supposed to be on that carriage. He had told her himself, that he would arrive together with everyone else and they would depart. "Where is he?" she hissed out, no question as to who the 'he' she asked for was. The two guards hesitated, and not bothering to wait, Nike instead turned to Stephanos, the sharp glint in her eyes clear, hands on the handle of her claymore as she repeated her question again. "Where is he?"
Because if trouble had been had, they would look less polished as they were now, so Nike doubted a fight had broken out. It would mean that they would be panting and out of breathe. But they did not. No blood splattered. No injuries were sustained.
Yet it did not change the fact that Vangelis was not where he told Nike he was supposed to, and suddenly the tablet he had given her earlier hung heavy around her waist. If she had to, she would grab a horse and ride back to the palati herself to extricate him from whatever problem he had managed to tie himself up in... but first, she had to know where she needed to go. Even if she was still slightly irked with their conversation a few days ago, it didn't change the fact that she was her general, and she wouldn't allow his life be taken away without her permission.
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She wasn't sure how long she had been pacing.
Nike was a loyal soldier, a bodyguard who performed above and beyond the expectations placed on her. It was perhaps, because of that, that the Kotas family had eventually ended up entrusting her with the life of their crown prince and eldest son, and why eventually, Nike had came to protect him with her own life if necessary. Being away from him was something she was used to, if not necessarily her favorite thing to do. Being away from him while he embroiled himself in a possibly dangerous situation, both political and in combat, was something the woman absolutely hated.
The woman had protested when Vangelis insisted she went without him to ready the ship, and did so very strongly. It wasn't that she did not trust Ecktor and Furon, for they both had been trained personally by her. It was that she didn't trust him. He was talented, a very capable fighter who fought and strategized with more then just his muscles. It was why Nike had come to admire him more as she fought beside him over the past decade. But it was also why Nike knew of his habit of dashing head first into matters, even when it was highly capable of killing him. It was as if the man had been born with no bone of fear in his body, which was both a blessing and a curse.
He had been adamant however, and left with little choice, the Commander did as she was told.
In the dead of the night, she collected her belongings, ensured Magnus had readied the two ladies, and proceeded to escort them to the ship she had readied by the docks. Used to navigating the dark, she had led the two horses the ladies sat on by herself, eschewing the use of a carriage for how loud it would be rumbling through the streets of Vasiliadon in the dead of the night. And always by her waist, secure in front of her, was the package he had given her.
It was a familiar scenario. He had done the same back when he had been in the caves during the Boreas storm. He had asked her to take something to deliver in the event of his life being lost to Thanatos. Nike had protested, and fought tooth and nail to make sure Hades had no claim over her General.
She had won before, she would do it again. Already, she knew she would smash whatever it was to dust with the flat of her claymore, and whatever it was, Vangelis could deliver it to the Queen himself.
And if he didn't, Nike would personally ensure he did. Even if she had to fight with the Gods themselves.
Arriving at the docks, she directed the guards to ready the ship to sail at a moment's notice, ensured Athanasia and Imeeya would not leave the deck... and then she stood by the gangplank and waited. The wind whipped at her growing hair, locks that would have to be snipped the moment they arrived at Colchis, and her hand was kept perpetually on the handle of her claymore on her waist. Her eyes were sharp, watching the horizon, shivering only occasionally at the bite of the cold wind.
He had said two hours. Where were they?
Frowns appeared on her forehead at the two hour mark, but as the rumble of a carriage arrived, Nike's tense shoulders and furrowed brows relaxed. Jogging to the arrival of the carriage, she waited whilst the guards she had summoned with her stepped forward to assist. Ecktor and Furon drove the unmarked carriage, but it was another who stepped forward to assist first the lady Selene (who Nike recognized during her stay in Colchis, and would likely have to at some point speak to and see what her fool general had done with her), and then a pregnant lady the Commander assumed was Queen Olympia, followed by her husband, the accused King Stephanos.
And then she waited.
Sharply, Nike turned to Ecktor and Furon, her voice tensed and angry. Vangelis was supposed to be on that carriage. He had told her himself, that he would arrive together with everyone else and they would depart. "Where is he?" she hissed out, no question as to who the 'he' she asked for was. The two guards hesitated, and not bothering to wait, Nike instead turned to Stephanos, the sharp glint in her eyes clear, hands on the handle of her claymore as she repeated her question again. "Where is he?"
Because if trouble had been had, they would look less polished as they were now, so Nike doubted a fight had broken out. It would mean that they would be panting and out of breathe. But they did not. No blood splattered. No injuries were sustained.
Yet it did not change the fact that Vangelis was not where he told Nike he was supposed to, and suddenly the tablet he had given her earlier hung heavy around her waist. If she had to, she would grab a horse and ride back to the palati herself to extricate him from whatever problem he had managed to tie himself up in... but first, she had to know where she needed to go. Even if she was still slightly irked with their conversation a few days ago, it didn't change the fact that she was her general, and she wouldn't allow his life be taken away without her permission.
She wasn't sure how long she had been pacing.
Nike was a loyal soldier, a bodyguard who performed above and beyond the expectations placed on her. It was perhaps, because of that, that the Kotas family had eventually ended up entrusting her with the life of their crown prince and eldest son, and why eventually, Nike had came to protect him with her own life if necessary. Being away from him was something she was used to, if not necessarily her favorite thing to do. Being away from him while he embroiled himself in a possibly dangerous situation, both political and in combat, was something the woman absolutely hated.
The woman had protested when Vangelis insisted she went without him to ready the ship, and did so very strongly. It wasn't that she did not trust Ecktor and Furon, for they both had been trained personally by her. It was that she didn't trust him. He was talented, a very capable fighter who fought and strategized with more then just his muscles. It was why Nike had come to admire him more as she fought beside him over the past decade. But it was also why Nike knew of his habit of dashing head first into matters, even when it was highly capable of killing him. It was as if the man had been born with no bone of fear in his body, which was both a blessing and a curse.
He had been adamant however, and left with little choice, the Commander did as she was told.
In the dead of the night, she collected her belongings, ensured Magnus had readied the two ladies, and proceeded to escort them to the ship she had readied by the docks. Used to navigating the dark, she had led the two horses the ladies sat on by herself, eschewing the use of a carriage for how loud it would be rumbling through the streets of Vasiliadon in the dead of the night. And always by her waist, secure in front of her, was the package he had given her.
It was a familiar scenario. He had done the same back when he had been in the caves during the Boreas storm. He had asked her to take something to deliver in the event of his life being lost to Thanatos. Nike had protested, and fought tooth and nail to make sure Hades had no claim over her General.
She had won before, she would do it again. Already, she knew she would smash whatever it was to dust with the flat of her claymore, and whatever it was, Vangelis could deliver it to the Queen himself.
And if he didn't, Nike would personally ensure he did. Even if she had to fight with the Gods themselves.
Arriving at the docks, she directed the guards to ready the ship to sail at a moment's notice, ensured Athanasia and Imeeya would not leave the deck... and then she stood by the gangplank and waited. The wind whipped at her growing hair, locks that would have to be snipped the moment they arrived at Colchis, and her hand was kept perpetually on the handle of her claymore on her waist. Her eyes were sharp, watching the horizon, shivering only occasionally at the bite of the cold wind.
He had said two hours. Where were they?
Frowns appeared on her forehead at the two hour mark, but as the rumble of a carriage arrived, Nike's tense shoulders and furrowed brows relaxed. Jogging to the arrival of the carriage, she waited whilst the guards she had summoned with her stepped forward to assist. Ecktor and Furon drove the unmarked carriage, but it was another who stepped forward to assist first the lady Selene (who Nike recognized during her stay in Colchis, and would likely have to at some point speak to and see what her fool general had done with her), and then a pregnant lady the Commander assumed was Queen Olympia, followed by her husband, the accused King Stephanos.
And then she waited.
Sharply, Nike turned to Ecktor and Furon, her voice tensed and angry. Vangelis was supposed to be on that carriage. He had told her himself, that he would arrive together with everyone else and they would depart. "Where is he?" she hissed out, no question as to who the 'he' she asked for was. The two guards hesitated, and not bothering to wait, Nike instead turned to Stephanos, the sharp glint in her eyes clear, hands on the handle of her claymore as she repeated her question again. "Where is he?"
Because if trouble had been had, they would look less polished as they were now, so Nike doubted a fight had broken out. It would mean that they would be panting and out of breathe. But they did not. No blood splattered. No injuries were sustained.
Yet it did not change the fact that Vangelis was not where he told Nike he was supposed to, and suddenly the tablet he had given her earlier hung heavy around her waist. If she had to, she would grab a horse and ride back to the palati herself to extricate him from whatever problem he had managed to tie himself up in... but first, she had to know where she needed to go. Even if she was still slightly irked with their conversation a few days ago, it didn't change the fact that she was her general, and she wouldn't allow his life be taken away without her permission.
If there was one thing Imeeya didn’t appreciate, it was being woken up in the middle of the night. But after everything else that had happened in Taengea, it was starting to feel like unexpected twists and turns were par for the course. When Nike had roused her and Asia in the middle of the night, Imeeya couldn’t do anything but obey the commander as he told them that they needed to pack quickly and get down to the boat. Her half-awake brain processed only the urgency, though in the back of her mind she wondered what possibly could have happened. The answers that her brain provided, from Egypt invading, to Irakles deciding that he needed to marry her off seemed ideas more likely picked from her dreams than based in reality.
She found herself shoving her spare chitons into her trunk with an uncharacteristically untidy manner and then she and Asia followed Nike down to the boat. That surprised her. Not only were they leaving the house they were staying in, but they were leaving the country altogether. She would have to ask Vangelis what was going on, she knew she’d be able to get a straightforward answer from him, but the prince was nowhere to be found. That in and of itself was a reason to be worried. It wasn’t so long ago that a king had found himself arrested in Taengea. She wasn’t sure that Vangelis’s status would necessarily lend him any protection.
Once on the ship, she and Asia were bundled down to their cabin below decks. The tension in the air, combined with the rocking of the boat in the waves left Imeeya’s stomach doing flip flops. Given the hour and the speed with which they left, Imeeya expected that they would be shoving off soon after the two women were aboard, but instead, nothing seemed to be happening. As much as she wanted to stay up and know what was happening, after the excitement of the day, Imeeya was exhausted. She found her head nodding as she struggled to stay awake in spite of all her worries about what was going on. For now there was nothing she could do, and nothing to keep her awake as she drifted over, still sitting upright, propped against the wall on the far side of her bunk in the cabin.
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If there was one thing Imeeya didn’t appreciate, it was being woken up in the middle of the night. But after everything else that had happened in Taengea, it was starting to feel like unexpected twists and turns were par for the course. When Nike had roused her and Asia in the middle of the night, Imeeya couldn’t do anything but obey the commander as he told them that they needed to pack quickly and get down to the boat. Her half-awake brain processed only the urgency, though in the back of her mind she wondered what possibly could have happened. The answers that her brain provided, from Egypt invading, to Irakles deciding that he needed to marry her off seemed ideas more likely picked from her dreams than based in reality.
She found herself shoving her spare chitons into her trunk with an uncharacteristically untidy manner and then she and Asia followed Nike down to the boat. That surprised her. Not only were they leaving the house they were staying in, but they were leaving the country altogether. She would have to ask Vangelis what was going on, she knew she’d be able to get a straightforward answer from him, but the prince was nowhere to be found. That in and of itself was a reason to be worried. It wasn’t so long ago that a king had found himself arrested in Taengea. She wasn’t sure that Vangelis’s status would necessarily lend him any protection.
Once on the ship, she and Asia were bundled down to their cabin below decks. The tension in the air, combined with the rocking of the boat in the waves left Imeeya’s stomach doing flip flops. Given the hour and the speed with which they left, Imeeya expected that they would be shoving off soon after the two women were aboard, but instead, nothing seemed to be happening. As much as she wanted to stay up and know what was happening, after the excitement of the day, Imeeya was exhausted. She found her head nodding as she struggled to stay awake in spite of all her worries about what was going on. For now there was nothing she could do, and nothing to keep her awake as she drifted over, still sitting upright, propped against the wall on the far side of her bunk in the cabin.
If there was one thing Imeeya didn’t appreciate, it was being woken up in the middle of the night. But after everything else that had happened in Taengea, it was starting to feel like unexpected twists and turns were par for the course. When Nike had roused her and Asia in the middle of the night, Imeeya couldn’t do anything but obey the commander as he told them that they needed to pack quickly and get down to the boat. Her half-awake brain processed only the urgency, though in the back of her mind she wondered what possibly could have happened. The answers that her brain provided, from Egypt invading, to Irakles deciding that he needed to marry her off seemed ideas more likely picked from her dreams than based in reality.
She found herself shoving her spare chitons into her trunk with an uncharacteristically untidy manner and then she and Asia followed Nike down to the boat. That surprised her. Not only were they leaving the house they were staying in, but they were leaving the country altogether. She would have to ask Vangelis what was going on, she knew she’d be able to get a straightforward answer from him, but the prince was nowhere to be found. That in and of itself was a reason to be worried. It wasn’t so long ago that a king had found himself arrested in Taengea. She wasn’t sure that Vangelis’s status would necessarily lend him any protection.
Once on the ship, she and Asia were bundled down to their cabin below decks. The tension in the air, combined with the rocking of the boat in the waves left Imeeya’s stomach doing flip flops. Given the hour and the speed with which they left, Imeeya expected that they would be shoving off soon after the two women were aboard, but instead, nothing seemed to be happening. As much as she wanted to stay up and know what was happening, after the excitement of the day, Imeeya was exhausted. She found her head nodding as she struggled to stay awake in spite of all her worries about what was going on. For now there was nothing she could do, and nothing to keep her awake as she drifted over, still sitting upright, propped against the wall on the far side of her bunk in the cabin.
As they passed a set of passed out guards, and he heard the distinctly feminine drone of Selene’s voice, he chewed the inside of his mouth and resisted turning around to tell her not to talk. Thankfully there didn’t seem to be anyone around to hear, and even if there was, hopefully they’d assume it was Pia doing to the talking. The longer they went, the more anxious he became to get out of the palati. They’d made it so far and if they were stopped now, he knew that he’d kill any man that came between himself and freedom if it came down to a fight.
The guards they passed either didn’t stop them or weren’t awake to do so, until they came to a hallway far enough away that it was now becoming suspicious for the queen to be even be here. The guards stood at attention, highly skeptical, and demanded to know why the queen was being moved and on whose orders that was being done. Stephanos thought fast. In a voice a tich higher than his own and an accent that would place him deep in the provinces, he was in the process of explaining that they were moving the queen under the orders of Charios, the head of the guards. This would have been fine, under normal circumstances, except that unbeknownst to Stephanos, Charios had fallen ill during the time he and Pia been interned in their rooms.
The mistake made the guard he was speaking to narrow his eyes, taking a step toward Stephanos and giving him a critical look. The guard’s partner was peering at Selene, who was rather shorter than their usual standards, and then, of course, there was the queen herself, who did not look to be in a state to be moved. Why be moved at all? Why weren’t they moving the king as well? This was all highly irregular. Guards did not like irregular.
“You!” Vangelis’s voice rolled down the hall like a slap of thunder and Stephanos took the opportunity to turn his face completely away from the guard who was trying to look at him. Thankfully, the other guard’s attention was diverted from Selene to Vangelis, who swooped in and effectively blocked Stephanos and Selene from the guards. It was at Vangelis’s irritated insistance that Stephanos was ready to move, and Pia’s immediate removal of herself from the situation that caused him to follow. He didn’t like that she’d broken away from both him and Selene, and he hastened to both follow her, and then come abreast with her as the guard gaped at Vangelis’s gall.
“But he said it was Charios!” the guard protested. That was the last Stephanos heard. He, Pia, and Selene swept from the scene. There was shockingly little trouble after that. None that was not overcome by fast talking, and then they were breathing fresh air. He sucked it into his lungs but he did not stop and he did not wait. His vision had tunneled onto the carriage. Without a word, he helped Pia into the carriage and waited for Selene to get in behind them before he shut the door.
Part of him wanted to wait for Vangelis to come with them but he didn’t dare. Vangelis wasn’t the wanted man. Rapping his knuckles against the carriage’s roof, he put an arm about his wife’s shoulders as the carriage lurched forward. With Selene across from them, Stephanos’s gaze rested on her. “Thank you,” he said finally to her. She’d risked quite a lot to help her sister and himself.
With Pia crying softly at his side, he sat rigid the entire way to the docks, fist against his lips, staring out of the window at the retreating palati until buildings blocked it from view. His thoughts were strangely still and his heart thudded dully in his chest. He was afraid to allow himself to think about what all this meant. This was not the time to allow himself to indulge in any sort of feeling of any kind, whether elation or sadness. They weren’t free quite yet.
When the carriage stopped and Selene and Pia got out, he was relieved to see Commander Nike being the one to greet them. The relief was short lived as the man hissed in his face the question that Stephanos really couldn’t answer to his satisfaction. “He’s still in the palati,” he said without emotion. His voice was coming out flat. “He was speaking to a few guards who took umbrage to our leaving.” With those words out of his mouth, he stepped around the commander and took Pia’s other arm, helping her onto the ship, though once on deck, and because there wasn’t room for three people down the stairs, he left Pia to the care of her sister and waited on deck, his arms crossed.
Would the ship leave without Vangelis? Could it? Selfishly, he was trying to weigh his options, trying to figure out if he should order the ship to push out whether the commander liked it or not. He wasn’t about to wait and be murdered because Vangelis was tardy. And if something bad had happened to the crown prince...he’d cross that bridge if and when they came to it. “Commander Nike, how long were you planning to wait?” he called out. Yes. He felt hideously selfish but there was no way he was going to allow his wife to go back into the custody of Irakles and be murdered there.
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As they passed a set of passed out guards, and he heard the distinctly feminine drone of Selene’s voice, he chewed the inside of his mouth and resisted turning around to tell her not to talk. Thankfully there didn’t seem to be anyone around to hear, and even if there was, hopefully they’d assume it was Pia doing to the talking. The longer they went, the more anxious he became to get out of the palati. They’d made it so far and if they were stopped now, he knew that he’d kill any man that came between himself and freedom if it came down to a fight.
The guards they passed either didn’t stop them or weren’t awake to do so, until they came to a hallway far enough away that it was now becoming suspicious for the queen to be even be here. The guards stood at attention, highly skeptical, and demanded to know why the queen was being moved and on whose orders that was being done. Stephanos thought fast. In a voice a tich higher than his own and an accent that would place him deep in the provinces, he was in the process of explaining that they were moving the queen under the orders of Charios, the head of the guards. This would have been fine, under normal circumstances, except that unbeknownst to Stephanos, Charios had fallen ill during the time he and Pia been interned in their rooms.
The mistake made the guard he was speaking to narrow his eyes, taking a step toward Stephanos and giving him a critical look. The guard’s partner was peering at Selene, who was rather shorter than their usual standards, and then, of course, there was the queen herself, who did not look to be in a state to be moved. Why be moved at all? Why weren’t they moving the king as well? This was all highly irregular. Guards did not like irregular.
“You!” Vangelis’s voice rolled down the hall like a slap of thunder and Stephanos took the opportunity to turn his face completely away from the guard who was trying to look at him. Thankfully, the other guard’s attention was diverted from Selene to Vangelis, who swooped in and effectively blocked Stephanos and Selene from the guards. It was at Vangelis’s irritated insistance that Stephanos was ready to move, and Pia’s immediate removal of herself from the situation that caused him to follow. He didn’t like that she’d broken away from both him and Selene, and he hastened to both follow her, and then come abreast with her as the guard gaped at Vangelis’s gall.
“But he said it was Charios!” the guard protested. That was the last Stephanos heard. He, Pia, and Selene swept from the scene. There was shockingly little trouble after that. None that was not overcome by fast talking, and then they were breathing fresh air. He sucked it into his lungs but he did not stop and he did not wait. His vision had tunneled onto the carriage. Without a word, he helped Pia into the carriage and waited for Selene to get in behind them before he shut the door.
Part of him wanted to wait for Vangelis to come with them but he didn’t dare. Vangelis wasn’t the wanted man. Rapping his knuckles against the carriage’s roof, he put an arm about his wife’s shoulders as the carriage lurched forward. With Selene across from them, Stephanos’s gaze rested on her. “Thank you,” he said finally to her. She’d risked quite a lot to help her sister and himself.
With Pia crying softly at his side, he sat rigid the entire way to the docks, fist against his lips, staring out of the window at the retreating palati until buildings blocked it from view. His thoughts were strangely still and his heart thudded dully in his chest. He was afraid to allow himself to think about what all this meant. This was not the time to allow himself to indulge in any sort of feeling of any kind, whether elation or sadness. They weren’t free quite yet.
When the carriage stopped and Selene and Pia got out, he was relieved to see Commander Nike being the one to greet them. The relief was short lived as the man hissed in his face the question that Stephanos really couldn’t answer to his satisfaction. “He’s still in the palati,” he said without emotion. His voice was coming out flat. “He was speaking to a few guards who took umbrage to our leaving.” With those words out of his mouth, he stepped around the commander and took Pia’s other arm, helping her onto the ship, though once on deck, and because there wasn’t room for three people down the stairs, he left Pia to the care of her sister and waited on deck, his arms crossed.
Would the ship leave without Vangelis? Could it? Selfishly, he was trying to weigh his options, trying to figure out if he should order the ship to push out whether the commander liked it or not. He wasn’t about to wait and be murdered because Vangelis was tardy. And if something bad had happened to the crown prince...he’d cross that bridge if and when they came to it. “Commander Nike, how long were you planning to wait?” he called out. Yes. He felt hideously selfish but there was no way he was going to allow his wife to go back into the custody of Irakles and be murdered there.
As they passed a set of passed out guards, and he heard the distinctly feminine drone of Selene’s voice, he chewed the inside of his mouth and resisted turning around to tell her not to talk. Thankfully there didn’t seem to be anyone around to hear, and even if there was, hopefully they’d assume it was Pia doing to the talking. The longer they went, the more anxious he became to get out of the palati. They’d made it so far and if they were stopped now, he knew that he’d kill any man that came between himself and freedom if it came down to a fight.
The guards they passed either didn’t stop them or weren’t awake to do so, until they came to a hallway far enough away that it was now becoming suspicious for the queen to be even be here. The guards stood at attention, highly skeptical, and demanded to know why the queen was being moved and on whose orders that was being done. Stephanos thought fast. In a voice a tich higher than his own and an accent that would place him deep in the provinces, he was in the process of explaining that they were moving the queen under the orders of Charios, the head of the guards. This would have been fine, under normal circumstances, except that unbeknownst to Stephanos, Charios had fallen ill during the time he and Pia been interned in their rooms.
The mistake made the guard he was speaking to narrow his eyes, taking a step toward Stephanos and giving him a critical look. The guard’s partner was peering at Selene, who was rather shorter than their usual standards, and then, of course, there was the queen herself, who did not look to be in a state to be moved. Why be moved at all? Why weren’t they moving the king as well? This was all highly irregular. Guards did not like irregular.
“You!” Vangelis’s voice rolled down the hall like a slap of thunder and Stephanos took the opportunity to turn his face completely away from the guard who was trying to look at him. Thankfully, the other guard’s attention was diverted from Selene to Vangelis, who swooped in and effectively blocked Stephanos and Selene from the guards. It was at Vangelis’s irritated insistance that Stephanos was ready to move, and Pia’s immediate removal of herself from the situation that caused him to follow. He didn’t like that she’d broken away from both him and Selene, and he hastened to both follow her, and then come abreast with her as the guard gaped at Vangelis’s gall.
“But he said it was Charios!” the guard protested. That was the last Stephanos heard. He, Pia, and Selene swept from the scene. There was shockingly little trouble after that. None that was not overcome by fast talking, and then they were breathing fresh air. He sucked it into his lungs but he did not stop and he did not wait. His vision had tunneled onto the carriage. Without a word, he helped Pia into the carriage and waited for Selene to get in behind them before he shut the door.
Part of him wanted to wait for Vangelis to come with them but he didn’t dare. Vangelis wasn’t the wanted man. Rapping his knuckles against the carriage’s roof, he put an arm about his wife’s shoulders as the carriage lurched forward. With Selene across from them, Stephanos’s gaze rested on her. “Thank you,” he said finally to her. She’d risked quite a lot to help her sister and himself.
With Pia crying softly at his side, he sat rigid the entire way to the docks, fist against his lips, staring out of the window at the retreating palati until buildings blocked it from view. His thoughts were strangely still and his heart thudded dully in his chest. He was afraid to allow himself to think about what all this meant. This was not the time to allow himself to indulge in any sort of feeling of any kind, whether elation or sadness. They weren’t free quite yet.
When the carriage stopped and Selene and Pia got out, he was relieved to see Commander Nike being the one to greet them. The relief was short lived as the man hissed in his face the question that Stephanos really couldn’t answer to his satisfaction. “He’s still in the palati,” he said without emotion. His voice was coming out flat. “He was speaking to a few guards who took umbrage to our leaving.” With those words out of his mouth, he stepped around the commander and took Pia’s other arm, helping her onto the ship, though once on deck, and because there wasn’t room for three people down the stairs, he left Pia to the care of her sister and waited on deck, his arms crossed.
Would the ship leave without Vangelis? Could it? Selfishly, he was trying to weigh his options, trying to figure out if he should order the ship to push out whether the commander liked it or not. He wasn’t about to wait and be murdered because Vangelis was tardy. And if something bad had happened to the crown prince...he’d cross that bridge if and when they came to it. “Commander Nike, how long were you planning to wait?” he called out. Yes. He felt hideously selfish but there was no way he was going to allow his wife to go back into the custody of Irakles and be murdered there.
She was no tactician, by any means. Vangelis has been quick to point out the flaw in her gender almost as soon as her plan was mentioned. He had been right in his assumption that her plan, backed by Alastair, had been ill planned. She had assumed that it would work, like it had with couriers and lesser men. Men like the guards they had encountered would have ignored her, foiling her plan to save her sister. Selene didn’t have a back up plan, either.
Vangelis knew she would fail. And he intervened so she wouldn’t end up with the same fate.
If it hadn’t been for the dirt on her face, marring her skin, the obvious paling of her face would have given them away. Normally, she would look down, keep her glance from meeting his. If he looked long enough, he may have recognized her. But she knew that a guard wouldn’t fear another guard, and wouldn’t look away when challenged. It took all her will power to stare back, to look him in the eyes and know that his fate would be death when questioned. It was necessary, right? She had to accept it, had to know that it was the cost of freeing the true king and queen. Just as she felt her face soften in regret, Vangelis came from around the corner.
Her heart sank further in her chest as he implicated himself in the transfer. The guards would say that he had told them of the change, and now he was dangering himself and his kingdom— the very thing he had been determined not to do. She had pressed him, had forced his hand in a way, and now he was leaving evidence of his own knowledge of their escape. Selene had wanted to stay, to see what happened, but Pia pulled away, taking the lead. As Stephanos followed, she had no choice but to do the same, heart moving into her throat as she turned to give Vangelis and the guards one last look.
Athena, protect him.
She knew it would be for nothing if she stayed and watched, pressing onward to try and focus on the task at hand.
If she was asked, later on, how they made it into the carriage, she wouldn’t have been able to answer them. It wasn’t until it was rolling, until Stephanos spoke to her directly, that her mind finally processed what had happened. While they weren’t in the clear yet, they were closer to freedom. And she didn’t want to think about the cost. Instead, she tried to focus on her sister, her hand moving to hold hers. Her eyes met Stephanos’ and she gave him a nod, unable to speak with the weight of the cost settling into her chest. It took all her willpower not to rip the blade from her side and toss it away, wanting nothing more to do with what it represented. And yet, she could hear Vangelis’s voice in her mind, telling her not to be foolish. She could still need a blade, should someone stop them before they were away.
The carriage stopped, and she was sure that her heart did, too. But the scent of sea enveloped her the moment the doors opened, and with it came relief. She stepped out first, eyes darting around at the Colchian marks and the familiar faces. She’d forgotten that the helmet was still atop her head, forgotten that she was still dressed as a man. Her focus was on her sister, even through the questioning of the familiar face of Nike.
The guilt was becoming overwhelming.
Moving with Pia down the corridor of the ship, Selene wished that Jo had made it aboard. She would have to hope that she was safe where she was supposed to be. But the girl’s assistance would have been helpful to them. As they were shown a room in which they could occupy, the blond didn’t take much time to settle Pia into the bed, allowing the Queen to find a position of comfort. Instead, she was at the small desk in the corner, relieved to see ink and parchment. Her note was brief, scribbled with much thought to what she could say without causing trouble. Kissing the top of her sister’s head, Selene gave her a smile. “A note for Mama. We shall see it delivered safely.” She said, disappearing back down the hall and up to the deck of the ship.
Standing next to Stephanos, silent, she watched. And waited, tossing the helmet aside, hoping the loss of it would make her burden less. But it did little.
He had to be alright. She was not sure if she could bear the weight of his death as well.
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Check out their information page here.
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She was no tactician, by any means. Vangelis has been quick to point out the flaw in her gender almost as soon as her plan was mentioned. He had been right in his assumption that her plan, backed by Alastair, had been ill planned. She had assumed that it would work, like it had with couriers and lesser men. Men like the guards they had encountered would have ignored her, foiling her plan to save her sister. Selene didn’t have a back up plan, either.
Vangelis knew she would fail. And he intervened so she wouldn’t end up with the same fate.
If it hadn’t been for the dirt on her face, marring her skin, the obvious paling of her face would have given them away. Normally, she would look down, keep her glance from meeting his. If he looked long enough, he may have recognized her. But she knew that a guard wouldn’t fear another guard, and wouldn’t look away when challenged. It took all her will power to stare back, to look him in the eyes and know that his fate would be death when questioned. It was necessary, right? She had to accept it, had to know that it was the cost of freeing the true king and queen. Just as she felt her face soften in regret, Vangelis came from around the corner.
Her heart sank further in her chest as he implicated himself in the transfer. The guards would say that he had told them of the change, and now he was dangering himself and his kingdom— the very thing he had been determined not to do. She had pressed him, had forced his hand in a way, and now he was leaving evidence of his own knowledge of their escape. Selene had wanted to stay, to see what happened, but Pia pulled away, taking the lead. As Stephanos followed, she had no choice but to do the same, heart moving into her throat as she turned to give Vangelis and the guards one last look.
Athena, protect him.
She knew it would be for nothing if she stayed and watched, pressing onward to try and focus on the task at hand.
If she was asked, later on, how they made it into the carriage, she wouldn’t have been able to answer them. It wasn’t until it was rolling, until Stephanos spoke to her directly, that her mind finally processed what had happened. While they weren’t in the clear yet, they were closer to freedom. And she didn’t want to think about the cost. Instead, she tried to focus on her sister, her hand moving to hold hers. Her eyes met Stephanos’ and she gave him a nod, unable to speak with the weight of the cost settling into her chest. It took all her willpower not to rip the blade from her side and toss it away, wanting nothing more to do with what it represented. And yet, she could hear Vangelis’s voice in her mind, telling her not to be foolish. She could still need a blade, should someone stop them before they were away.
The carriage stopped, and she was sure that her heart did, too. But the scent of sea enveloped her the moment the doors opened, and with it came relief. She stepped out first, eyes darting around at the Colchian marks and the familiar faces. She’d forgotten that the helmet was still atop her head, forgotten that she was still dressed as a man. Her focus was on her sister, even through the questioning of the familiar face of Nike.
The guilt was becoming overwhelming.
Moving with Pia down the corridor of the ship, Selene wished that Jo had made it aboard. She would have to hope that she was safe where she was supposed to be. But the girl’s assistance would have been helpful to them. As they were shown a room in which they could occupy, the blond didn’t take much time to settle Pia into the bed, allowing the Queen to find a position of comfort. Instead, she was at the small desk in the corner, relieved to see ink and parchment. Her note was brief, scribbled with much thought to what she could say without causing trouble. Kissing the top of her sister’s head, Selene gave her a smile. “A note for Mama. We shall see it delivered safely.” She said, disappearing back down the hall and up to the deck of the ship.
Standing next to Stephanos, silent, she watched. And waited, tossing the helmet aside, hoping the loss of it would make her burden less. But it did little.
He had to be alright. She was not sure if she could bear the weight of his death as well.
She was no tactician, by any means. Vangelis has been quick to point out the flaw in her gender almost as soon as her plan was mentioned. He had been right in his assumption that her plan, backed by Alastair, had been ill planned. She had assumed that it would work, like it had with couriers and lesser men. Men like the guards they had encountered would have ignored her, foiling her plan to save her sister. Selene didn’t have a back up plan, either.
Vangelis knew she would fail. And he intervened so she wouldn’t end up with the same fate.
If it hadn’t been for the dirt on her face, marring her skin, the obvious paling of her face would have given them away. Normally, she would look down, keep her glance from meeting his. If he looked long enough, he may have recognized her. But she knew that a guard wouldn’t fear another guard, and wouldn’t look away when challenged. It took all her will power to stare back, to look him in the eyes and know that his fate would be death when questioned. It was necessary, right? She had to accept it, had to know that it was the cost of freeing the true king and queen. Just as she felt her face soften in regret, Vangelis came from around the corner.
Her heart sank further in her chest as he implicated himself in the transfer. The guards would say that he had told them of the change, and now he was dangering himself and his kingdom— the very thing he had been determined not to do. She had pressed him, had forced his hand in a way, and now he was leaving evidence of his own knowledge of their escape. Selene had wanted to stay, to see what happened, but Pia pulled away, taking the lead. As Stephanos followed, she had no choice but to do the same, heart moving into her throat as she turned to give Vangelis and the guards one last look.
Athena, protect him.
She knew it would be for nothing if she stayed and watched, pressing onward to try and focus on the task at hand.
If she was asked, later on, how they made it into the carriage, she wouldn’t have been able to answer them. It wasn’t until it was rolling, until Stephanos spoke to her directly, that her mind finally processed what had happened. While they weren’t in the clear yet, they were closer to freedom. And she didn’t want to think about the cost. Instead, she tried to focus on her sister, her hand moving to hold hers. Her eyes met Stephanos’ and she gave him a nod, unable to speak with the weight of the cost settling into her chest. It took all her willpower not to rip the blade from her side and toss it away, wanting nothing more to do with what it represented. And yet, she could hear Vangelis’s voice in her mind, telling her not to be foolish. She could still need a blade, should someone stop them before they were away.
The carriage stopped, and she was sure that her heart did, too. But the scent of sea enveloped her the moment the doors opened, and with it came relief. She stepped out first, eyes darting around at the Colchian marks and the familiar faces. She’d forgotten that the helmet was still atop her head, forgotten that she was still dressed as a man. Her focus was on her sister, even through the questioning of the familiar face of Nike.
The guilt was becoming overwhelming.
Moving with Pia down the corridor of the ship, Selene wished that Jo had made it aboard. She would have to hope that she was safe where she was supposed to be. But the girl’s assistance would have been helpful to them. As they were shown a room in which they could occupy, the blond didn’t take much time to settle Pia into the bed, allowing the Queen to find a position of comfort. Instead, she was at the small desk in the corner, relieved to see ink and parchment. Her note was brief, scribbled with much thought to what she could say without causing trouble. Kissing the top of her sister’s head, Selene gave her a smile. “A note for Mama. We shall see it delivered safely.” She said, disappearing back down the hall and up to the deck of the ship.
Standing next to Stephanos, silent, she watched. And waited, tossing the helmet aside, hoping the loss of it would make her burden less. But it did little.
He had to be alright. She was not sure if she could bear the weight of his death as well.
If the guards had been no help, the supposed King of Taengea was even lesser help, and now Nike found herself wondering if half of that she's been hearing in Vasiliadon held some truth to it, and that they should have just left the Taengean's to wallow in the ditch they had dug themselves. Her gaze had darkened when Stephanos had said - so nonchalantly mind you - that Vangelis was still at the palati.
The palati they had all just escaped from.
Where the supposed general who had murdered his own brother and nephew as rumors had, and would very likely have no qualms about capturing her general and murdering him in one breathe. Because why did he have to care about the measly life of one crown prince of Colchis, when he had taken the life of the deuced King and his own brother?
Her fists clenched by her side, Nike took deep and even breaths as Stephanos helped is wife into the ship. She had a temper that she usually tried to keep reined in, and letting it loose on the King of Taengea, despite the position he was in right now, seemed to be a decision that was less then wise. Allowing herself to give him the benefit of doubt considering his situation and his wife's current position, Nike scowled as she turned her gaze back to the road where they had came from, her hands lying on the hilt of her claymore. The ship would not leave without her command, and while the tablet she carried now weighed heavily on her waist, Nike was not going to allow the ship to set sail without proper signal.
Without his shadow on their gangplank.
But the king was decidedly stupid today, it seemed, eager to push her buttons even when Nike's patience grew thinner with her creeping anxiety. The question pushed her over the edge, and she turned, her eyes flashing like the newly sharpened daggers she had sheathed in her boots. "If you're so eager to take leave, Your Highness, feel free to swim. However the ship you're on now is of Kotas ownership, and I do not see why we need to set sail without a Kotas prince on board." she hissed, words spat at his face, not at all caring that she was probably insulting a royal monarch. That her crown prince had risked his life to save his ass, and now he was fussing that they were late, when Vangelis could very well be in trouble?
Such a selfish chunk of flesh, Nike could not understand why her general was willing to risk his neck to save him. Turning to the guard, she clicked and motioned at one of them to unhook the carriage and get the horse to her. If she had to,she would ride to get him back.
Because even if she had to leave with a body, she'd rather do that, then leave with nothing at all.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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If the guards had been no help, the supposed King of Taengea was even lesser help, and now Nike found herself wondering if half of that she's been hearing in Vasiliadon held some truth to it, and that they should have just left the Taengean's to wallow in the ditch they had dug themselves. Her gaze had darkened when Stephanos had said - so nonchalantly mind you - that Vangelis was still at the palati.
The palati they had all just escaped from.
Where the supposed general who had murdered his own brother and nephew as rumors had, and would very likely have no qualms about capturing her general and murdering him in one breathe. Because why did he have to care about the measly life of one crown prince of Colchis, when he had taken the life of the deuced King and his own brother?
Her fists clenched by her side, Nike took deep and even breaths as Stephanos helped is wife into the ship. She had a temper that she usually tried to keep reined in, and letting it loose on the King of Taengea, despite the position he was in right now, seemed to be a decision that was less then wise. Allowing herself to give him the benefit of doubt considering his situation and his wife's current position, Nike scowled as she turned her gaze back to the road where they had came from, her hands lying on the hilt of her claymore. The ship would not leave without her command, and while the tablet she carried now weighed heavily on her waist, Nike was not going to allow the ship to set sail without proper signal.
Without his shadow on their gangplank.
But the king was decidedly stupid today, it seemed, eager to push her buttons even when Nike's patience grew thinner with her creeping anxiety. The question pushed her over the edge, and she turned, her eyes flashing like the newly sharpened daggers she had sheathed in her boots. "If you're so eager to take leave, Your Highness, feel free to swim. However the ship you're on now is of Kotas ownership, and I do not see why we need to set sail without a Kotas prince on board." she hissed, words spat at his face, not at all caring that she was probably insulting a royal monarch. That her crown prince had risked his life to save his ass, and now he was fussing that they were late, when Vangelis could very well be in trouble?
Such a selfish chunk of flesh, Nike could not understand why her general was willing to risk his neck to save him. Turning to the guard, she clicked and motioned at one of them to unhook the carriage and get the horse to her. If she had to,she would ride to get him back.
Because even if she had to leave with a body, she'd rather do that, then leave with nothing at all.
If the guards had been no help, the supposed King of Taengea was even lesser help, and now Nike found herself wondering if half of that she's been hearing in Vasiliadon held some truth to it, and that they should have just left the Taengean's to wallow in the ditch they had dug themselves. Her gaze had darkened when Stephanos had said - so nonchalantly mind you - that Vangelis was still at the palati.
The palati they had all just escaped from.
Where the supposed general who had murdered his own brother and nephew as rumors had, and would very likely have no qualms about capturing her general and murdering him in one breathe. Because why did he have to care about the measly life of one crown prince of Colchis, when he had taken the life of the deuced King and his own brother?
Her fists clenched by her side, Nike took deep and even breaths as Stephanos helped is wife into the ship. She had a temper that she usually tried to keep reined in, and letting it loose on the King of Taengea, despite the position he was in right now, seemed to be a decision that was less then wise. Allowing herself to give him the benefit of doubt considering his situation and his wife's current position, Nike scowled as she turned her gaze back to the road where they had came from, her hands lying on the hilt of her claymore. The ship would not leave without her command, and while the tablet she carried now weighed heavily on her waist, Nike was not going to allow the ship to set sail without proper signal.
Without his shadow on their gangplank.
But the king was decidedly stupid today, it seemed, eager to push her buttons even when Nike's patience grew thinner with her creeping anxiety. The question pushed her over the edge, and she turned, her eyes flashing like the newly sharpened daggers she had sheathed in her boots. "If you're so eager to take leave, Your Highness, feel free to swim. However the ship you're on now is of Kotas ownership, and I do not see why we need to set sail without a Kotas prince on board." she hissed, words spat at his face, not at all caring that she was probably insulting a royal monarch. That her crown prince had risked his life to save his ass, and now he was fussing that they were late, when Vangelis could very well be in trouble?
Such a selfish chunk of flesh, Nike could not understand why her general was willing to risk his neck to save him. Turning to the guard, she clicked and motioned at one of them to unhook the carriage and get the horse to her. If she had to,she would ride to get him back.
Because even if she had to leave with a body, she'd rather do that, then leave with nothing at all.
Insult him? Yes. Commander Nike had insulted him. He narrowed his eyes until they were icy slits. “Did I suggest we leave without him?” he asked without the same heat but with all the same intensity of anger. Tonight, of all nights, he was in far less control than he normally would be. “It was a simple question, Commander. The Queen is in imminent labor. I merely wished to know when we would be setting sail. I assume Vangelis is coming soon?” The more he spoke, the more he felt his temper rising.
To. Hades. With. This. Commander.
Until this moment, he’d never had a cross word for Nike. The man was dependable, if a little bit drab - just like Vangelis. But then, that seemed to be a common trait for the Colchian populace. What he didn’t understand was the sensitivity to the soldier. His tone hadn’t been flippant. It had been flat. No emotion to it. A simple answer to a simple question. And when he’d done it in return, to him, the man’s temper had flared up for no reason. For someone so battle hardened, he’d have expected a much less emotional response. It was a lot like a woman's response, actually, which was a little shocking in one so high up in command.
If not for the respect that he actually did hold for Nike, and for Vangelis, to whom this soldier was beholden, he would have taken Nike's insult to its logical conclusion and slugged the man across the face like he obviously deserved.
Pointing back the way they’d come, Stephanos bared his teeth in as he spoke. He was in no mood. Vangelis wasn't the one being hunted. Vangelis was fine and in perfect disguise. There was no reason to worry. “Do you have so little faith in your prince? He is not the one being chased. He was merely speaking to soldiers about something unrelated to me or Olympia. So tell me, Commander when you expect your prince to come back. My uncle and the palati soldiers will not sleep forever. I assumed that the prince filled you in on the plan as you are here at this dock to meet us. Did he say what the rest of the plan was? Why he would delay coming?”
Was he speaking to a moron? Because it sure felt like it. Did he know when Vangelis was to come back and what part of the plan they were in or not? And why in the name of Zeus was it such a horrible crime to ask?
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Insult him? Yes. Commander Nike had insulted him. He narrowed his eyes until they were icy slits. “Did I suggest we leave without him?” he asked without the same heat but with all the same intensity of anger. Tonight, of all nights, he was in far less control than he normally would be. “It was a simple question, Commander. The Queen is in imminent labor. I merely wished to know when we would be setting sail. I assume Vangelis is coming soon?” The more he spoke, the more he felt his temper rising.
To. Hades. With. This. Commander.
Until this moment, he’d never had a cross word for Nike. The man was dependable, if a little bit drab - just like Vangelis. But then, that seemed to be a common trait for the Colchian populace. What he didn’t understand was the sensitivity to the soldier. His tone hadn’t been flippant. It had been flat. No emotion to it. A simple answer to a simple question. And when he’d done it in return, to him, the man’s temper had flared up for no reason. For someone so battle hardened, he’d have expected a much less emotional response. It was a lot like a woman's response, actually, which was a little shocking in one so high up in command.
If not for the respect that he actually did hold for Nike, and for Vangelis, to whom this soldier was beholden, he would have taken Nike's insult to its logical conclusion and slugged the man across the face like he obviously deserved.
Pointing back the way they’d come, Stephanos bared his teeth in as he spoke. He was in no mood. Vangelis wasn't the one being hunted. Vangelis was fine and in perfect disguise. There was no reason to worry. “Do you have so little faith in your prince? He is not the one being chased. He was merely speaking to soldiers about something unrelated to me or Olympia. So tell me, Commander when you expect your prince to come back. My uncle and the palati soldiers will not sleep forever. I assumed that the prince filled you in on the plan as you are here at this dock to meet us. Did he say what the rest of the plan was? Why he would delay coming?”
Was he speaking to a moron? Because it sure felt like it. Did he know when Vangelis was to come back and what part of the plan they were in or not? And why in the name of Zeus was it such a horrible crime to ask?
Insult him? Yes. Commander Nike had insulted him. He narrowed his eyes until they were icy slits. “Did I suggest we leave without him?” he asked without the same heat but with all the same intensity of anger. Tonight, of all nights, he was in far less control than he normally would be. “It was a simple question, Commander. The Queen is in imminent labor. I merely wished to know when we would be setting sail. I assume Vangelis is coming soon?” The more he spoke, the more he felt his temper rising.
To. Hades. With. This. Commander.
Until this moment, he’d never had a cross word for Nike. The man was dependable, if a little bit drab - just like Vangelis. But then, that seemed to be a common trait for the Colchian populace. What he didn’t understand was the sensitivity to the soldier. His tone hadn’t been flippant. It had been flat. No emotion to it. A simple answer to a simple question. And when he’d done it in return, to him, the man’s temper had flared up for no reason. For someone so battle hardened, he’d have expected a much less emotional response. It was a lot like a woman's response, actually, which was a little shocking in one so high up in command.
If not for the respect that he actually did hold for Nike, and for Vangelis, to whom this soldier was beholden, he would have taken Nike's insult to its logical conclusion and slugged the man across the face like he obviously deserved.
Pointing back the way they’d come, Stephanos bared his teeth in as he spoke. He was in no mood. Vangelis wasn't the one being hunted. Vangelis was fine and in perfect disguise. There was no reason to worry. “Do you have so little faith in your prince? He is not the one being chased. He was merely speaking to soldiers about something unrelated to me or Olympia. So tell me, Commander when you expect your prince to come back. My uncle and the palati soldiers will not sleep forever. I assumed that the prince filled you in on the plan as you are here at this dock to meet us. Did he say what the rest of the plan was? Why he would delay coming?”
Was he speaking to a moron? Because it sure felt like it. Did he know when Vangelis was to come back and what part of the plan they were in or not? And why in the name of Zeus was it such a horrible crime to ask?
It took Vangelis far longer than he would have liked to rid himself of the two guardsmen he was with. Not because they were being difficult - his rank and general demeanour had both of them fairly scared into subservience within his presence. But keeping them penitent to his royal status while in his company was one thing. Ensuring that they wouldn't break that temporary loyalty and trust the second he left their company and rouse Prince Irakles or the rest of the guard in order to check his story was another. And he couldn't have them hurrying off to cause such a chain of events. It would take his men time to launch the ship out of the Vasiliadon harbour and even longer to sail it far enough out to sea that it would be neither possible nor legal for the self-appointed regent to send naval forces out after them. Aside from having to leave the palati personally, he also had to ensure that he and the rest of the group would be able to sail to Colchis without incident or all of this masquerade was for nothing and they would all be branded traitors of Taengea and punished accordingly.
If he wasn't able to secure silence from these men - at least for a few hours after his departure - his only other option was to allow the ship to leave without him. He would have to admit to involvement given that the Lady Imeeya and Athanasia would also be missing and face the consequences of that choice.
Yet those consequences, he hoped, he was able to avoid.
After berating the men for at least ten minutes, watching as they seemed to progressively grow shorter in their armour, Vangelis was careful to drop in the fact that he had been consulting with the King over security in the palace and perhaps he should turn his already wasted night of slumber into a full inspection of the guardsmen currently on duty, hinting that he could return to their quadrant of the palace at any moment. He commented on a fictional meeting he was due to have with Prince Irakles in the morning and how he would insist upon the meeting with the King that had hitherto been denied to him. How he would report the men unable to follow simple orders to communicate effectively amongst the guard. Who doubted their fellow guardsmen and caused issues by rechecking orders.
Vangelis wasn't a clever speaker, nor a manipulative courtier experienced with wordplay. But he did his best to read the expressions of the men and ensure that he dropped enough information steadily that encouraged them to plan their guard issued boots to the marble floor and remain there until their personal Commander came to address them at the end of their shift - which Vangelis would be ensuring that he did.
Whether it was his attitude, the hostile aggression in his voice or simply his reputation and appearance in the militant fashion, Vangelis didn't know, but for whatever reason it never seemed to occur to the two men to question why a foreign prince would have such authority to command and demand such procedures from the Taengean palace guard, nor why he would even care. From the manner in which he accused them, it came across as professional distaste. But, perhaps his efforts against the Creed that had been openly spoken of among the military men of Taengea had gone someway to convincing such people that Vangelis cared for the royal family of their kingdom through general camaraderie. And this was enough to convince them.
Whatever the reason, whatever the fear or stimulus or convincing that had the guards settling themselves back into their positions against the wall, Vangelis did not question. He simply took the opportunity when he saw it and, once mostly assured that they weren't about to immediately raise the alarm upon his retreating frame, Vangelis stormed away down the corridor, bypassing an immediate exit and heading further into the hallways of the palace, his destination a secondary exit that was out of sight of the guards that had caused the hold up. It took him longer to then navigate his way around a wing of the palace but at least now it appeared to the soldiers in question that the Colchian crown prince was still in the building and able to return upon them at any moment if they were to break from their duties.
By the time he reached free air, having scaled a low wall and then headed out through the stables, the carriage that had been arranged for the escape was long gone. But that was as Vangelis had expected.
Glancing at the sky and wondering if he had the ability to reach the docks before the appointed time when Nike was to set sail without him, Vangelis grit his teeth and deliberately eschewed the option of stealing a horse. Firstly, he wanted no obvious connection between the palace and the port. They didn't need breadcrumbs left along the trail directing Irakles to the king's means of escape. Secondly, a horse's hooves made more noise of the cobblestones than the flat soles of soft felt and leather. Especially at high speeds.
Taking a long inhale and accepting that - while it would lessen his chances of reaching the docks on time - he would have to make the journey as quickly as he could on foot, Vangelis struck out into the street and started to run.
Not a man to be distracted in the middle of an operation or mission, Vangelis didn't pause to assess the bizarity of the crown prince of Colchis, running through the streets of the capital of a foreign kingdom, alone and in the dark. Only the strangest of circumstances could have brought about such a visual. And he was lucky that such a reality would be that rare. For anyone who happened to look out of their window and notice the tall and quiet giant of a man speeding down their streets would be unlikely to believe the truth of who it was. Lack of conventionality was often taboo behaviour's greatest shield.
Vangelis was a fit soldier but he was also a man who had recently been bedbound for six weeks, suffering numerous broken bones and a brush with death. Whilst he was far more his normal self now, several months later, his long-term stamina had not been put to an accurate test in some time. And Vasiliadon was a large city.
Knowing the general direction he had to go, Vangelis was thankful for the logical layout that the architects of that city had used as he found himself facing a dead-end only twice and a blocked passage only once. He neither worried nor glanced to the sky to check the position of the moon, for he knew assessing the time would do him no good. He had fallen into his rhythm and was running efficiently and effectively. He could not sprint the entire distance and would slow the entire journey if he tried to. Instead, he was running at a strong and confident speed that kept his footsteps light and quiet and ensured he would reach the docks in the best time possible. Checking against the sky to see whether that would be fast enough only wasted energy.
By the time he found the slowly descending road that would lead him to the harbour, Vangelis's skin held a light film of sweat and his previously injured thigh was starting to burn. But spotting his ship still at rest in the docks waiting for him, only sped Vangelis onwards beyond the pain and the aches that had started up between his shoulder blades.
The harbour was dark and a little misty, so it wasn't surprising that Vangelis' identity would be hard to make out. But, on the other hand, who else of his height would be running towards the docks at this time of night, making directly for that one ship?
By the time he drew level with the carriage that his guards seemed to be unhooking from its ride for some reason, Vangelis' steps fell slow and heavy as he brought his run quickly to a standstill. His chest rose and fell in deep draws, his lips parted, and his hair was curling with sweat at his temples and the nape of his neck. But he refused to bend over and grab his knees in order to breathe deep. He had more pride than that.
He turned to the guardsmen and redirected their instructions, insisting that they reattach the horse to cart and have the carriage relocated to further down the docks. It was nondescript and there were several of their kind parked along the roads nearest the harbour for rent. They didn't need this one sitting conspicuously beside an empty moorline where the Colchian ship had been secured. His guards hastened to carry out the task so that they would have enough time to run back to make the launch.
"What are you all still doing here?" He demanded of Nike, turning back to the issue at hand. She was the only one - other than the guards - still on the docks. He waved a hand towards the ship. "We should be going already. Get moving."
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It took Vangelis far longer than he would have liked to rid himself of the two guardsmen he was with. Not because they were being difficult - his rank and general demeanour had both of them fairly scared into subservience within his presence. But keeping them penitent to his royal status while in his company was one thing. Ensuring that they wouldn't break that temporary loyalty and trust the second he left their company and rouse Prince Irakles or the rest of the guard in order to check his story was another. And he couldn't have them hurrying off to cause such a chain of events. It would take his men time to launch the ship out of the Vasiliadon harbour and even longer to sail it far enough out to sea that it would be neither possible nor legal for the self-appointed regent to send naval forces out after them. Aside from having to leave the palati personally, he also had to ensure that he and the rest of the group would be able to sail to Colchis without incident or all of this masquerade was for nothing and they would all be branded traitors of Taengea and punished accordingly.
If he wasn't able to secure silence from these men - at least for a few hours after his departure - his only other option was to allow the ship to leave without him. He would have to admit to involvement given that the Lady Imeeya and Athanasia would also be missing and face the consequences of that choice.
Yet those consequences, he hoped, he was able to avoid.
After berating the men for at least ten minutes, watching as they seemed to progressively grow shorter in their armour, Vangelis was careful to drop in the fact that he had been consulting with the King over security in the palace and perhaps he should turn his already wasted night of slumber into a full inspection of the guardsmen currently on duty, hinting that he could return to their quadrant of the palace at any moment. He commented on a fictional meeting he was due to have with Prince Irakles in the morning and how he would insist upon the meeting with the King that had hitherto been denied to him. How he would report the men unable to follow simple orders to communicate effectively amongst the guard. Who doubted their fellow guardsmen and caused issues by rechecking orders.
Vangelis wasn't a clever speaker, nor a manipulative courtier experienced with wordplay. But he did his best to read the expressions of the men and ensure that he dropped enough information steadily that encouraged them to plan their guard issued boots to the marble floor and remain there until their personal Commander came to address them at the end of their shift - which Vangelis would be ensuring that he did.
Whether it was his attitude, the hostile aggression in his voice or simply his reputation and appearance in the militant fashion, Vangelis didn't know, but for whatever reason it never seemed to occur to the two men to question why a foreign prince would have such authority to command and demand such procedures from the Taengean palace guard, nor why he would even care. From the manner in which he accused them, it came across as professional distaste. But, perhaps his efforts against the Creed that had been openly spoken of among the military men of Taengea had gone someway to convincing such people that Vangelis cared for the royal family of their kingdom through general camaraderie. And this was enough to convince them.
Whatever the reason, whatever the fear or stimulus or convincing that had the guards settling themselves back into their positions against the wall, Vangelis did not question. He simply took the opportunity when he saw it and, once mostly assured that they weren't about to immediately raise the alarm upon his retreating frame, Vangelis stormed away down the corridor, bypassing an immediate exit and heading further into the hallways of the palace, his destination a secondary exit that was out of sight of the guards that had caused the hold up. It took him longer to then navigate his way around a wing of the palace but at least now it appeared to the soldiers in question that the Colchian crown prince was still in the building and able to return upon them at any moment if they were to break from their duties.
By the time he reached free air, having scaled a low wall and then headed out through the stables, the carriage that had been arranged for the escape was long gone. But that was as Vangelis had expected.
Glancing at the sky and wondering if he had the ability to reach the docks before the appointed time when Nike was to set sail without him, Vangelis grit his teeth and deliberately eschewed the option of stealing a horse. Firstly, he wanted no obvious connection between the palace and the port. They didn't need breadcrumbs left along the trail directing Irakles to the king's means of escape. Secondly, a horse's hooves made more noise of the cobblestones than the flat soles of soft felt and leather. Especially at high speeds.
Taking a long inhale and accepting that - while it would lessen his chances of reaching the docks on time - he would have to make the journey as quickly as he could on foot, Vangelis struck out into the street and started to run.
Not a man to be distracted in the middle of an operation or mission, Vangelis didn't pause to assess the bizarity of the crown prince of Colchis, running through the streets of the capital of a foreign kingdom, alone and in the dark. Only the strangest of circumstances could have brought about such a visual. And he was lucky that such a reality would be that rare. For anyone who happened to look out of their window and notice the tall and quiet giant of a man speeding down their streets would be unlikely to believe the truth of who it was. Lack of conventionality was often taboo behaviour's greatest shield.
Vangelis was a fit soldier but he was also a man who had recently been bedbound for six weeks, suffering numerous broken bones and a brush with death. Whilst he was far more his normal self now, several months later, his long-term stamina had not been put to an accurate test in some time. And Vasiliadon was a large city.
Knowing the general direction he had to go, Vangelis was thankful for the logical layout that the architects of that city had used as he found himself facing a dead-end only twice and a blocked passage only once. He neither worried nor glanced to the sky to check the position of the moon, for he knew assessing the time would do him no good. He had fallen into his rhythm and was running efficiently and effectively. He could not sprint the entire distance and would slow the entire journey if he tried to. Instead, he was running at a strong and confident speed that kept his footsteps light and quiet and ensured he would reach the docks in the best time possible. Checking against the sky to see whether that would be fast enough only wasted energy.
By the time he found the slowly descending road that would lead him to the harbour, Vangelis's skin held a light film of sweat and his previously injured thigh was starting to burn. But spotting his ship still at rest in the docks waiting for him, only sped Vangelis onwards beyond the pain and the aches that had started up between his shoulder blades.
The harbour was dark and a little misty, so it wasn't surprising that Vangelis' identity would be hard to make out. But, on the other hand, who else of his height would be running towards the docks at this time of night, making directly for that one ship?
By the time he drew level with the carriage that his guards seemed to be unhooking from its ride for some reason, Vangelis' steps fell slow and heavy as he brought his run quickly to a standstill. His chest rose and fell in deep draws, his lips parted, and his hair was curling with sweat at his temples and the nape of his neck. But he refused to bend over and grab his knees in order to breathe deep. He had more pride than that.
He turned to the guardsmen and redirected their instructions, insisting that they reattach the horse to cart and have the carriage relocated to further down the docks. It was nondescript and there were several of their kind parked along the roads nearest the harbour for rent. They didn't need this one sitting conspicuously beside an empty moorline where the Colchian ship had been secured. His guards hastened to carry out the task so that they would have enough time to run back to make the launch.
"What are you all still doing here?" He demanded of Nike, turning back to the issue at hand. She was the only one - other than the guards - still on the docks. He waved a hand towards the ship. "We should be going already. Get moving."
It took Vangelis far longer than he would have liked to rid himself of the two guardsmen he was with. Not because they were being difficult - his rank and general demeanour had both of them fairly scared into subservience within his presence. But keeping them penitent to his royal status while in his company was one thing. Ensuring that they wouldn't break that temporary loyalty and trust the second he left their company and rouse Prince Irakles or the rest of the guard in order to check his story was another. And he couldn't have them hurrying off to cause such a chain of events. It would take his men time to launch the ship out of the Vasiliadon harbour and even longer to sail it far enough out to sea that it would be neither possible nor legal for the self-appointed regent to send naval forces out after them. Aside from having to leave the palati personally, he also had to ensure that he and the rest of the group would be able to sail to Colchis without incident or all of this masquerade was for nothing and they would all be branded traitors of Taengea and punished accordingly.
If he wasn't able to secure silence from these men - at least for a few hours after his departure - his only other option was to allow the ship to leave without him. He would have to admit to involvement given that the Lady Imeeya and Athanasia would also be missing and face the consequences of that choice.
Yet those consequences, he hoped, he was able to avoid.
After berating the men for at least ten minutes, watching as they seemed to progressively grow shorter in their armour, Vangelis was careful to drop in the fact that he had been consulting with the King over security in the palace and perhaps he should turn his already wasted night of slumber into a full inspection of the guardsmen currently on duty, hinting that he could return to their quadrant of the palace at any moment. He commented on a fictional meeting he was due to have with Prince Irakles in the morning and how he would insist upon the meeting with the King that had hitherto been denied to him. How he would report the men unable to follow simple orders to communicate effectively amongst the guard. Who doubted their fellow guardsmen and caused issues by rechecking orders.
Vangelis wasn't a clever speaker, nor a manipulative courtier experienced with wordplay. But he did his best to read the expressions of the men and ensure that he dropped enough information steadily that encouraged them to plan their guard issued boots to the marble floor and remain there until their personal Commander came to address them at the end of their shift - which Vangelis would be ensuring that he did.
Whether it was his attitude, the hostile aggression in his voice or simply his reputation and appearance in the militant fashion, Vangelis didn't know, but for whatever reason it never seemed to occur to the two men to question why a foreign prince would have such authority to command and demand such procedures from the Taengean palace guard, nor why he would even care. From the manner in which he accused them, it came across as professional distaste. But, perhaps his efforts against the Creed that had been openly spoken of among the military men of Taengea had gone someway to convincing such people that Vangelis cared for the royal family of their kingdom through general camaraderie. And this was enough to convince them.
Whatever the reason, whatever the fear or stimulus or convincing that had the guards settling themselves back into their positions against the wall, Vangelis did not question. He simply took the opportunity when he saw it and, once mostly assured that they weren't about to immediately raise the alarm upon his retreating frame, Vangelis stormed away down the corridor, bypassing an immediate exit and heading further into the hallways of the palace, his destination a secondary exit that was out of sight of the guards that had caused the hold up. It took him longer to then navigate his way around a wing of the palace but at least now it appeared to the soldiers in question that the Colchian crown prince was still in the building and able to return upon them at any moment if they were to break from their duties.
By the time he reached free air, having scaled a low wall and then headed out through the stables, the carriage that had been arranged for the escape was long gone. But that was as Vangelis had expected.
Glancing at the sky and wondering if he had the ability to reach the docks before the appointed time when Nike was to set sail without him, Vangelis grit his teeth and deliberately eschewed the option of stealing a horse. Firstly, he wanted no obvious connection between the palace and the port. They didn't need breadcrumbs left along the trail directing Irakles to the king's means of escape. Secondly, a horse's hooves made more noise of the cobblestones than the flat soles of soft felt and leather. Especially at high speeds.
Taking a long inhale and accepting that - while it would lessen his chances of reaching the docks on time - he would have to make the journey as quickly as he could on foot, Vangelis struck out into the street and started to run.
Not a man to be distracted in the middle of an operation or mission, Vangelis didn't pause to assess the bizarity of the crown prince of Colchis, running through the streets of the capital of a foreign kingdom, alone and in the dark. Only the strangest of circumstances could have brought about such a visual. And he was lucky that such a reality would be that rare. For anyone who happened to look out of their window and notice the tall and quiet giant of a man speeding down their streets would be unlikely to believe the truth of who it was. Lack of conventionality was often taboo behaviour's greatest shield.
Vangelis was a fit soldier but he was also a man who had recently been bedbound for six weeks, suffering numerous broken bones and a brush with death. Whilst he was far more his normal self now, several months later, his long-term stamina had not been put to an accurate test in some time. And Vasiliadon was a large city.
Knowing the general direction he had to go, Vangelis was thankful for the logical layout that the architects of that city had used as he found himself facing a dead-end only twice and a blocked passage only once. He neither worried nor glanced to the sky to check the position of the moon, for he knew assessing the time would do him no good. He had fallen into his rhythm and was running efficiently and effectively. He could not sprint the entire distance and would slow the entire journey if he tried to. Instead, he was running at a strong and confident speed that kept his footsteps light and quiet and ensured he would reach the docks in the best time possible. Checking against the sky to see whether that would be fast enough only wasted energy.
By the time he found the slowly descending road that would lead him to the harbour, Vangelis's skin held a light film of sweat and his previously injured thigh was starting to burn. But spotting his ship still at rest in the docks waiting for him, only sped Vangelis onwards beyond the pain and the aches that had started up between his shoulder blades.
The harbour was dark and a little misty, so it wasn't surprising that Vangelis' identity would be hard to make out. But, on the other hand, who else of his height would be running towards the docks at this time of night, making directly for that one ship?
By the time he drew level with the carriage that his guards seemed to be unhooking from its ride for some reason, Vangelis' steps fell slow and heavy as he brought his run quickly to a standstill. His chest rose and fell in deep draws, his lips parted, and his hair was curling with sweat at his temples and the nape of his neck. But he refused to bend over and grab his knees in order to breathe deep. He had more pride than that.
He turned to the guardsmen and redirected their instructions, insisting that they reattach the horse to cart and have the carriage relocated to further down the docks. It was nondescript and there were several of their kind parked along the roads nearest the harbour for rent. They didn't need this one sitting conspicuously beside an empty moorline where the Colchian ship had been secured. His guards hastened to carry out the task so that they would have enough time to run back to make the launch.
"What are you all still doing here?" He demanded of Nike, turning back to the issue at hand. She was the only one - other than the guards - still on the docks. He waved a hand towards the ship. "We should be going already. Get moving."
Nike was usually a grounded, level-headed Commander who performed tasks and duties with the thought process of a well trained military person. But Vangelis had long been her best friend, and possibly the one person in the world she'd give her life for. That Stephanos had even insinuated that she would assume they would leave without Vangelis was enough to set her hackles on edge, and neither was she planning on following through Vangelis's instructions to leave within two hours if he did not turn up either. She's not known to defy his orders, but the few times he wanted to put his life on the line for others... well, Nike wasn't going to allow that.
Especially not when it was the young King's life her own General was risking his for.
"The Queen can give birth upon the ship in a cabin. We will be setting sail when General Vangelis arrives." she snapped back in return, tight and controlled, but obvious in her desire to not back down. The whole time, Nike did not bother looking back, and merely answered in a tone that suggested anger bubbled beneath, but that the dark-haired female had a better control over his temper then Stephanos was displaying so far.
"If we aren't careful, he will very soon be the one being chased - in order to save a kingdom he didn't even need to save to begin with. He said he would arrive with you. That he did not, I assume was because he had to do something else to ensure your safety again - something he once more did not have to do." Still flat, it was only when the Commander turned to Stephanos who stood upon deck, that he would be able to see the fierce determination that she did not allow seep into her voice, if he could even see it at such a distance. "So to answer your question, Your Highness, we will leave when my general arrives, and not a moment earlier." She'll allow Vangelis to flay into her if necessary later, but she would stand by her words.
Luckily for both though, just as Nike was about to turn and grab a horse when a distant figure she would not mistake for anyone else in the world made a satisfied, somewhat relieved smile, appear on her face. It was obvious he had been running - but to Nike, at least he had the capability to still run and get to the docks meant he hadn't been injured anywhere, and for that, Nike would send her thanks to Ares for that.
"Waiting for you, because you decided to take in the Taengean sights at the wrong time, it seems." she retorted sharply, smirking as she turned around and waved a hand at the guards to hurry, before running up the docks to deck. With her signal, her men were quick to jump to work, getting the ship ready to sail within minutes, that the delay caused by Vangelis's late arrival was almost unnoticeable in the grand scheme of things. "Next time you decide to have a change of plans, do let me know earlier would you."
It didn't take long before the gangplank was dragged up, and the sails buffet in the winds. As they set sail, Nike turned with a brief glance at Stephanos, before reporting to Vangelis that everyone was as they were supposed to be. "Lady Imeeya and Princess Athanasia are belowdeck, as are the Taengean ladies - and the young King who you call your friend." she paused with a contemplative look, and then continued in a softer voice. "I hope this is worth it, Vangelis."
Not waiting for an answer, Nike's feet took her off to ensure everything else was in place as the Colchian marked ship sailed into the dark - dangerous, especially with uncertain waters and that they had essentially left with the possibility of war on their hands should anyone discover what they had done.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Nike was usually a grounded, level-headed Commander who performed tasks and duties with the thought process of a well trained military person. But Vangelis had long been her best friend, and possibly the one person in the world she'd give her life for. That Stephanos had even insinuated that she would assume they would leave without Vangelis was enough to set her hackles on edge, and neither was she planning on following through Vangelis's instructions to leave within two hours if he did not turn up either. She's not known to defy his orders, but the few times he wanted to put his life on the line for others... well, Nike wasn't going to allow that.
Especially not when it was the young King's life her own General was risking his for.
"The Queen can give birth upon the ship in a cabin. We will be setting sail when General Vangelis arrives." she snapped back in return, tight and controlled, but obvious in her desire to not back down. The whole time, Nike did not bother looking back, and merely answered in a tone that suggested anger bubbled beneath, but that the dark-haired female had a better control over his temper then Stephanos was displaying so far.
"If we aren't careful, he will very soon be the one being chased - in order to save a kingdom he didn't even need to save to begin with. He said he would arrive with you. That he did not, I assume was because he had to do something else to ensure your safety again - something he once more did not have to do." Still flat, it was only when the Commander turned to Stephanos who stood upon deck, that he would be able to see the fierce determination that she did not allow seep into her voice, if he could even see it at such a distance. "So to answer your question, Your Highness, we will leave when my general arrives, and not a moment earlier." She'll allow Vangelis to flay into her if necessary later, but she would stand by her words.
Luckily for both though, just as Nike was about to turn and grab a horse when a distant figure she would not mistake for anyone else in the world made a satisfied, somewhat relieved smile, appear on her face. It was obvious he had been running - but to Nike, at least he had the capability to still run and get to the docks meant he hadn't been injured anywhere, and for that, Nike would send her thanks to Ares for that.
"Waiting for you, because you decided to take in the Taengean sights at the wrong time, it seems." she retorted sharply, smirking as she turned around and waved a hand at the guards to hurry, before running up the docks to deck. With her signal, her men were quick to jump to work, getting the ship ready to sail within minutes, that the delay caused by Vangelis's late arrival was almost unnoticeable in the grand scheme of things. "Next time you decide to have a change of plans, do let me know earlier would you."
It didn't take long before the gangplank was dragged up, and the sails buffet in the winds. As they set sail, Nike turned with a brief glance at Stephanos, before reporting to Vangelis that everyone was as they were supposed to be. "Lady Imeeya and Princess Athanasia are belowdeck, as are the Taengean ladies - and the young King who you call your friend." she paused with a contemplative look, and then continued in a softer voice. "I hope this is worth it, Vangelis."
Not waiting for an answer, Nike's feet took her off to ensure everything else was in place as the Colchian marked ship sailed into the dark - dangerous, especially with uncertain waters and that they had essentially left with the possibility of war on their hands should anyone discover what they had done.
Nike was usually a grounded, level-headed Commander who performed tasks and duties with the thought process of a well trained military person. But Vangelis had long been her best friend, and possibly the one person in the world she'd give her life for. That Stephanos had even insinuated that she would assume they would leave without Vangelis was enough to set her hackles on edge, and neither was she planning on following through Vangelis's instructions to leave within two hours if he did not turn up either. She's not known to defy his orders, but the few times he wanted to put his life on the line for others... well, Nike wasn't going to allow that.
Especially not when it was the young King's life her own General was risking his for.
"The Queen can give birth upon the ship in a cabin. We will be setting sail when General Vangelis arrives." she snapped back in return, tight and controlled, but obvious in her desire to not back down. The whole time, Nike did not bother looking back, and merely answered in a tone that suggested anger bubbled beneath, but that the dark-haired female had a better control over his temper then Stephanos was displaying so far.
"If we aren't careful, he will very soon be the one being chased - in order to save a kingdom he didn't even need to save to begin with. He said he would arrive with you. That he did not, I assume was because he had to do something else to ensure your safety again - something he once more did not have to do." Still flat, it was only when the Commander turned to Stephanos who stood upon deck, that he would be able to see the fierce determination that she did not allow seep into her voice, if he could even see it at such a distance. "So to answer your question, Your Highness, we will leave when my general arrives, and not a moment earlier." She'll allow Vangelis to flay into her if necessary later, but she would stand by her words.
Luckily for both though, just as Nike was about to turn and grab a horse when a distant figure she would not mistake for anyone else in the world made a satisfied, somewhat relieved smile, appear on her face. It was obvious he had been running - but to Nike, at least he had the capability to still run and get to the docks meant he hadn't been injured anywhere, and for that, Nike would send her thanks to Ares for that.
"Waiting for you, because you decided to take in the Taengean sights at the wrong time, it seems." she retorted sharply, smirking as she turned around and waved a hand at the guards to hurry, before running up the docks to deck. With her signal, her men were quick to jump to work, getting the ship ready to sail within minutes, that the delay caused by Vangelis's late arrival was almost unnoticeable in the grand scheme of things. "Next time you decide to have a change of plans, do let me know earlier would you."
It didn't take long before the gangplank was dragged up, and the sails buffet in the winds. As they set sail, Nike turned with a brief glance at Stephanos, before reporting to Vangelis that everyone was as they were supposed to be. "Lady Imeeya and Princess Athanasia are belowdeck, as are the Taengean ladies - and the young King who you call your friend." she paused with a contemplative look, and then continued in a softer voice. "I hope this is worth it, Vangelis."
Not waiting for an answer, Nike's feet took her off to ensure everything else was in place as the Colchian marked ship sailed into the dark - dangerous, especially with uncertain waters and that they had essentially left with the possibility of war on their hands should anyone discover what they had done.