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There were so many people pausing to wish him well, passing on their congratulations, Achilleas thought he had stopped seeing them. And so when another voice sounded by his side as Krysto disappeared, the groom turned with a smile already in place, ready to repeat the ritual again. It was an expression that melted into something entirely cooler as he registered exactly who he was looking at.
‘Are you having fun, my Lord’
“My Prince” he corrected, not because he cared but because he needed to assert himself in the face of this unexpected guest. The bard. Not just the bard, but the bard, and Achilleas could scarce believe he was looking at the man. Of all the entertainment he might have chosen for his own wedding, this was not it. With a slowly creeping realisation, he recalled how dismissive he had been when his mother had approached him about music, how he had cut her off and tol he trusted her to decide. Well.
Achilleas realised he had said nothing in response to the man’s non greeting, and he narrowed his gaze the tiniest amount. “Of course I am. Have you not seen my bride?”
He had not forgotten the song that the man had performed at the reception, and though just vague enough that he thought others might not have made the connection, it still irked him, and so did this man’s presence at this event. “Hesiodos, isn’t it? I’m sure you are being paid well for your services here. Don’t give me reason to see otherwise. Please, enjoy the day.” And with that, Achilleas turned away from the man,an effective dismissal if ever there had been one, the uncomfortable memory of their first meeting still enough to bother him even now.
And because he had not quite managed to dispel his worry over Briseis and Theodora having too much to talk about, he turned to look towards where he had seen his bride last, instead finding Krysto returning to him. He did not notice Briseis until she appeared at his elbow, and then Achilleas turned a disbelieving gaze upon her. She did not appear so wounded as when he had last seen her, instead bright with some spirit again, and as his gaze dropped momentarily to the flash of gold at her throat he wondered if indeed she had forgiven him.
Not that it mattered, really, but it did not sit well with Achilleas to think her hurt still. With a quick glance at Krysto to try and gauge what he had interrupted, the prince refused any more wine, for his cup did not seem to have been empty for more than a few moments since he had arrived, and there a whole feast to get through yet. But Briseis could see that well enough, and Achilleas rolled his eyes at her words, seeking out Theodora for himself and just able to see Emilios standing beyond.
That was good, he thought, because his brother had been withdrawn all day, had barely spoken to Achilleas, so perhaps he was relaxing a little now. “Do not seek to sow discord where there is none” he replied, voice low and edged with a little warning. “It’s childish, Briseis”. There was an exasperated look at Krysto, because really Achilleas did not want to be dealing with such silliness today of all days, but before he could say anything more there was the sound of a voice raised in annoyance and then a sudden hush.
The Prince’s gaze returned to those it had only just left, and he gaped a moment, because it seemed he would have to eat his own words. There was his bride, in all of her perfection, standing rigid in front of his brother, a garish waterfall of what could only be wine running over his shocked face.
“What on earth?!” Achilleas was already moving before the words left his lips, his own cup pushed carelessly at Krysto, and the man’s long strides quickly ate up the distance between he and whatever had transpired between his new wife and his brother. There was a churning unease in his stomach at the hush that had fallen and he found himself wishing that damnable bard would earn his coin. Those guests who stood in his way parted quietly, but the Prince did not miss the raised eyebrows and press of lips that would by dying to gossip. By the time he reached those responsible Emilios was laughing, and Achilleas drew to a halt, left looking between his brother and Theodora, unsure who he should be irritated at.
“Care to share the humour, brother?” he asked tersely even as servants swooped in with cloths to mop up the spreading stain and to hand to the younger of the Mikaelidas princes. Achilleas was acutely aware of the many eyes of their guests upon them, and he shifted slightly so his bulk sheltered Theodora from the worst of it, caught hold of the hand that did not still hold the weapon in this affray
“What happened?” This was said to his bride, a low urgent question as an expression somewhere between concern and confusion drew his brows together. He had known Theodora to have a temper, she had demonstrated that to him before now, but he was shocked that she would choose to make such a spectacle in public, at their wedding feast nonetheless. He couldn't even begin to imagine what would have offended her enough, and so his gaze fell back to Emilios, harder now. “Well?”
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There were so many people pausing to wish him well, passing on their congratulations, Achilleas thought he had stopped seeing them. And so when another voice sounded by his side as Krysto disappeared, the groom turned with a smile already in place, ready to repeat the ritual again. It was an expression that melted into something entirely cooler as he registered exactly who he was looking at.
‘Are you having fun, my Lord’
“My Prince” he corrected, not because he cared but because he needed to assert himself in the face of this unexpected guest. The bard. Not just the bard, but the bard, and Achilleas could scarce believe he was looking at the man. Of all the entertainment he might have chosen for his own wedding, this was not it. With a slowly creeping realisation, he recalled how dismissive he had been when his mother had approached him about music, how he had cut her off and tol he trusted her to decide. Well.
Achilleas realised he had said nothing in response to the man’s non greeting, and he narrowed his gaze the tiniest amount. “Of course I am. Have you not seen my bride?”
He had not forgotten the song that the man had performed at the reception, and though just vague enough that he thought others might not have made the connection, it still irked him, and so did this man’s presence at this event. “Hesiodos, isn’t it? I’m sure you are being paid well for your services here. Don’t give me reason to see otherwise. Please, enjoy the day.” And with that, Achilleas turned away from the man,an effective dismissal if ever there had been one, the uncomfortable memory of their first meeting still enough to bother him even now.
And because he had not quite managed to dispel his worry over Briseis and Theodora having too much to talk about, he turned to look towards where he had seen his bride last, instead finding Krysto returning to him. He did not notice Briseis until she appeared at his elbow, and then Achilleas turned a disbelieving gaze upon her. She did not appear so wounded as when he had last seen her, instead bright with some spirit again, and as his gaze dropped momentarily to the flash of gold at her throat he wondered if indeed she had forgiven him.
Not that it mattered, really, but it did not sit well with Achilleas to think her hurt still. With a quick glance at Krysto to try and gauge what he had interrupted, the prince refused any more wine, for his cup did not seem to have been empty for more than a few moments since he had arrived, and there a whole feast to get through yet. But Briseis could see that well enough, and Achilleas rolled his eyes at her words, seeking out Theodora for himself and just able to see Emilios standing beyond.
That was good, he thought, because his brother had been withdrawn all day, had barely spoken to Achilleas, so perhaps he was relaxing a little now. “Do not seek to sow discord where there is none” he replied, voice low and edged with a little warning. “It’s childish, Briseis”. There was an exasperated look at Krysto, because really Achilleas did not want to be dealing with such silliness today of all days, but before he could say anything more there was the sound of a voice raised in annoyance and then a sudden hush.
The Prince’s gaze returned to those it had only just left, and he gaped a moment, because it seemed he would have to eat his own words. There was his bride, in all of her perfection, standing rigid in front of his brother, a garish waterfall of what could only be wine running over his shocked face.
“What on earth?!” Achilleas was already moving before the words left his lips, his own cup pushed carelessly at Krysto, and the man’s long strides quickly ate up the distance between he and whatever had transpired between his new wife and his brother. There was a churning unease in his stomach at the hush that had fallen and he found himself wishing that damnable bard would earn his coin. Those guests who stood in his way parted quietly, but the Prince did not miss the raised eyebrows and press of lips that would by dying to gossip. By the time he reached those responsible Emilios was laughing, and Achilleas drew to a halt, left looking between his brother and Theodora, unsure who he should be irritated at.
“Care to share the humour, brother?” he asked tersely even as servants swooped in with cloths to mop up the spreading stain and to hand to the younger of the Mikaelidas princes. Achilleas was acutely aware of the many eyes of their guests upon them, and he shifted slightly so his bulk sheltered Theodora from the worst of it, caught hold of the hand that did not still hold the weapon in this affray
“What happened?” This was said to his bride, a low urgent question as an expression somewhere between concern and confusion drew his brows together. He had known Theodora to have a temper, she had demonstrated that to him before now, but he was shocked that she would choose to make such a spectacle in public, at their wedding feast nonetheless. He couldn't even begin to imagine what would have offended her enough, and so his gaze fell back to Emilios, harder now. “Well?”
There were so many people pausing to wish him well, passing on their congratulations, Achilleas thought he had stopped seeing them. And so when another voice sounded by his side as Krysto disappeared, the groom turned with a smile already in place, ready to repeat the ritual again. It was an expression that melted into something entirely cooler as he registered exactly who he was looking at.
‘Are you having fun, my Lord’
“My Prince” he corrected, not because he cared but because he needed to assert himself in the face of this unexpected guest. The bard. Not just the bard, but the bard, and Achilleas could scarce believe he was looking at the man. Of all the entertainment he might have chosen for his own wedding, this was not it. With a slowly creeping realisation, he recalled how dismissive he had been when his mother had approached him about music, how he had cut her off and tol he trusted her to decide. Well.
Achilleas realised he had said nothing in response to the man’s non greeting, and he narrowed his gaze the tiniest amount. “Of course I am. Have you not seen my bride?”
He had not forgotten the song that the man had performed at the reception, and though just vague enough that he thought others might not have made the connection, it still irked him, and so did this man’s presence at this event. “Hesiodos, isn’t it? I’m sure you are being paid well for your services here. Don’t give me reason to see otherwise. Please, enjoy the day.” And with that, Achilleas turned away from the man,an effective dismissal if ever there had been one, the uncomfortable memory of their first meeting still enough to bother him even now.
And because he had not quite managed to dispel his worry over Briseis and Theodora having too much to talk about, he turned to look towards where he had seen his bride last, instead finding Krysto returning to him. He did not notice Briseis until she appeared at his elbow, and then Achilleas turned a disbelieving gaze upon her. She did not appear so wounded as when he had last seen her, instead bright with some spirit again, and as his gaze dropped momentarily to the flash of gold at her throat he wondered if indeed she had forgiven him.
Not that it mattered, really, but it did not sit well with Achilleas to think her hurt still. With a quick glance at Krysto to try and gauge what he had interrupted, the prince refused any more wine, for his cup did not seem to have been empty for more than a few moments since he had arrived, and there a whole feast to get through yet. But Briseis could see that well enough, and Achilleas rolled his eyes at her words, seeking out Theodora for himself and just able to see Emilios standing beyond.
That was good, he thought, because his brother had been withdrawn all day, had barely spoken to Achilleas, so perhaps he was relaxing a little now. “Do not seek to sow discord where there is none” he replied, voice low and edged with a little warning. “It’s childish, Briseis”. There was an exasperated look at Krysto, because really Achilleas did not want to be dealing with such silliness today of all days, but before he could say anything more there was the sound of a voice raised in annoyance and then a sudden hush.
The Prince’s gaze returned to those it had only just left, and he gaped a moment, because it seemed he would have to eat his own words. There was his bride, in all of her perfection, standing rigid in front of his brother, a garish waterfall of what could only be wine running over his shocked face.
“What on earth?!” Achilleas was already moving before the words left his lips, his own cup pushed carelessly at Krysto, and the man’s long strides quickly ate up the distance between he and whatever had transpired between his new wife and his brother. There was a churning unease in his stomach at the hush that had fallen and he found himself wishing that damnable bard would earn his coin. Those guests who stood in his way parted quietly, but the Prince did not miss the raised eyebrows and press of lips that would by dying to gossip. By the time he reached those responsible Emilios was laughing, and Achilleas drew to a halt, left looking between his brother and Theodora, unsure who he should be irritated at.
“Care to share the humour, brother?” he asked tersely even as servants swooped in with cloths to mop up the spreading stain and to hand to the younger of the Mikaelidas princes. Achilleas was acutely aware of the many eyes of their guests upon them, and he shifted slightly so his bulk sheltered Theodora from the worst of it, caught hold of the hand that did not still hold the weapon in this affray
“What happened?” This was said to his bride, a low urgent question as an expression somewhere between concern and confusion drew his brows together. He had known Theodora to have a temper, she had demonstrated that to him before now, but he was shocked that she would choose to make such a spectacle in public, at their wedding feast nonetheless. He couldn't even begin to imagine what would have offended her enough, and so his gaze fell back to Emilios, harder now. “Well?”
He knew little would come from his half-confession. It was not as if he would be able to sway her now, not after his apparent forgetfulness of her existence. He would reflect later on that it was not the right time to have the conversation that he was trying to have with her. That it would have been best in a week or two, or a month or two. Perhaps even a year or two later. But now that she was safely married, he could not hold his tongue if he tried.
Emilios was pushing her for something. What, he didn’t know. Perhaps knowledge that she had been suffering, too? That she had longed for him as much as he had for her? As a woman, who went they met initially, was set on marrying to better her family’s name, there had been a hope that she would understand the obligations that came with status. Things were out of their control, and there were but moments were they could take charge without ruining lives around.
He needed her to know that he hadn’t discarded her so carelessly, that it had been done with so much regret and heartache that each morning brought the struggle to breath. The younger prince knew there was more he should have done. But the bargain between him and Fotios was still on his mind.
And it would kill her to know just how much it had stopped him from seeking her out for himself once more.
It was impossible for him to realize his voice was rising, even with her begging him to lower his tone. He pressed and pressed, wanting something more than this unfamiliar coldness between them. In the year they had been lovers, there had been fire and passion and depth. Now, he didn’t know what was left but ash. And that was his own damn fault.
Why did he still need her? Why did he still want her?
It wasn’t until she tossed the wine in his face that he finally realized what a fool he was. This was not the time, nor the place, as she tried to point out. Anger flared in his eyes, only for a moment, before he realized that people would start to get suspicious. He was an ass, but he had gotten what he’d hoped to get-- a reaction. Granted, it had not been what he had hoped for, but with Theodora, he was always on his toes.
And with that thought, he started laughing, using his sleeve to wipe the wine out of his hair and eyes. It was then that he noticed Achilleas had joined them, and was worried about what had transpired. He was quick on his feet, still laughing. ”My apologies, Achilleas. I seemed to forget that the Lady Theodora is not used to the humor of brothers. I picked an inopportune time to tease her about the wedding night and she seems to have reacted as most ladies would. She came to your defense, of course, and decided to remind me of her gentle upbringing with expensive wine.” His tone was light, and his explanation was wholly within character for the younger brother. ”I pushed more than I should have, and I am most sorry for it, my sweet sister.” He captured her hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it with lips still damn with wine.
”If you will excuse me, I shall clean up so that I may continue my duties as brother of the groom.” Releasing her hand, he bowed to them both, winking playfully at his brother as he stepped back.
He turned from the newlyweds, heading into the main part of the house to see to a change of clothing that would fit a prince on his brother’s wedding day.
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He knew little would come from his half-confession. It was not as if he would be able to sway her now, not after his apparent forgetfulness of her existence. He would reflect later on that it was not the right time to have the conversation that he was trying to have with her. That it would have been best in a week or two, or a month or two. Perhaps even a year or two later. But now that she was safely married, he could not hold his tongue if he tried.
Emilios was pushing her for something. What, he didn’t know. Perhaps knowledge that she had been suffering, too? That she had longed for him as much as he had for her? As a woman, who went they met initially, was set on marrying to better her family’s name, there had been a hope that she would understand the obligations that came with status. Things were out of their control, and there were but moments were they could take charge without ruining lives around.
He needed her to know that he hadn’t discarded her so carelessly, that it had been done with so much regret and heartache that each morning brought the struggle to breath. The younger prince knew there was more he should have done. But the bargain between him and Fotios was still on his mind.
And it would kill her to know just how much it had stopped him from seeking her out for himself once more.
It was impossible for him to realize his voice was rising, even with her begging him to lower his tone. He pressed and pressed, wanting something more than this unfamiliar coldness between them. In the year they had been lovers, there had been fire and passion and depth. Now, he didn’t know what was left but ash. And that was his own damn fault.
Why did he still need her? Why did he still want her?
It wasn’t until she tossed the wine in his face that he finally realized what a fool he was. This was not the time, nor the place, as she tried to point out. Anger flared in his eyes, only for a moment, before he realized that people would start to get suspicious. He was an ass, but he had gotten what he’d hoped to get-- a reaction. Granted, it had not been what he had hoped for, but with Theodora, he was always on his toes.
And with that thought, he started laughing, using his sleeve to wipe the wine out of his hair and eyes. It was then that he noticed Achilleas had joined them, and was worried about what had transpired. He was quick on his feet, still laughing. ”My apologies, Achilleas. I seemed to forget that the Lady Theodora is not used to the humor of brothers. I picked an inopportune time to tease her about the wedding night and she seems to have reacted as most ladies would. She came to your defense, of course, and decided to remind me of her gentle upbringing with expensive wine.” His tone was light, and his explanation was wholly within character for the younger brother. ”I pushed more than I should have, and I am most sorry for it, my sweet sister.” He captured her hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it with lips still damn with wine.
”If you will excuse me, I shall clean up so that I may continue my duties as brother of the groom.” Releasing her hand, he bowed to them both, winking playfully at his brother as he stepped back.
He turned from the newlyweds, heading into the main part of the house to see to a change of clothing that would fit a prince on his brother’s wedding day.
He knew little would come from his half-confession. It was not as if he would be able to sway her now, not after his apparent forgetfulness of her existence. He would reflect later on that it was not the right time to have the conversation that he was trying to have with her. That it would have been best in a week or two, or a month or two. Perhaps even a year or two later. But now that she was safely married, he could not hold his tongue if he tried.
Emilios was pushing her for something. What, he didn’t know. Perhaps knowledge that she had been suffering, too? That she had longed for him as much as he had for her? As a woman, who went they met initially, was set on marrying to better her family’s name, there had been a hope that she would understand the obligations that came with status. Things were out of their control, and there were but moments were they could take charge without ruining lives around.
He needed her to know that he hadn’t discarded her so carelessly, that it had been done with so much regret and heartache that each morning brought the struggle to breath. The younger prince knew there was more he should have done. But the bargain between him and Fotios was still on his mind.
And it would kill her to know just how much it had stopped him from seeking her out for himself once more.
It was impossible for him to realize his voice was rising, even with her begging him to lower his tone. He pressed and pressed, wanting something more than this unfamiliar coldness between them. In the year they had been lovers, there had been fire and passion and depth. Now, he didn’t know what was left but ash. And that was his own damn fault.
Why did he still need her? Why did he still want her?
It wasn’t until she tossed the wine in his face that he finally realized what a fool he was. This was not the time, nor the place, as she tried to point out. Anger flared in his eyes, only for a moment, before he realized that people would start to get suspicious. He was an ass, but he had gotten what he’d hoped to get-- a reaction. Granted, it had not been what he had hoped for, but with Theodora, he was always on his toes.
And with that thought, he started laughing, using his sleeve to wipe the wine out of his hair and eyes. It was then that he noticed Achilleas had joined them, and was worried about what had transpired. He was quick on his feet, still laughing. ”My apologies, Achilleas. I seemed to forget that the Lady Theodora is not used to the humor of brothers. I picked an inopportune time to tease her about the wedding night and she seems to have reacted as most ladies would. She came to your defense, of course, and decided to remind me of her gentle upbringing with expensive wine.” His tone was light, and his explanation was wholly within character for the younger brother. ”I pushed more than I should have, and I am most sorry for it, my sweet sister.” He captured her hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it with lips still damn with wine.
”If you will excuse me, I shall clean up so that I may continue my duties as brother of the groom.” Releasing her hand, he bowed to them both, winking playfully at his brother as he stepped back.
He turned from the newlyweds, heading into the main part of the house to see to a change of clothing that would fit a prince on his brother’s wedding day.
Tasia grinned into her mirror, turning this way and that. Her blue silk chiton, bordered with gold bands embroidered with beads, swirled around her legs. Her matching himation swayed gently with her graceful movements. Everyone would notice her tonight, which was precisely her intention.
Heading downstairs to help her mother, she spent the time before the guests arrived ordering the slaves to rearrange some of the flowers in the vases and sending a few trays of food back to the kitchen because the delicacies needed more garnishes or the trays themselves needed to be polished. Tasia inspected the courtyard as well. This was her home, and she wanted it to be flawless and impressive for this most important event.
It didn't bother her that she had not attended the wedding itself. The ceremonies would have bored her to tears. She was better off here, where she could be useful and do what she did best … socialize. Which was exactly what she did when the guests began to trickle in, greeting them and making them feel at ease. She complimented the women and subtly flirted with the men, both young and old, staying away, for the moment, from the more esteemed visitors. There were plenty of less important courtiers to charm and she knew that not all of the members of the greater noble houses approved of her existence. But exist she did and they would have to accept her eventually now that her father was King.
Tasia was in the courtyard when the wedding party arrived. She was drawn inside by Hesiodos' melodious voice singing a song he had most likely written for the occasion. I shall have to ask him if he would like to sing a duet later,she thought. Her instruments were still in her room, but she did want to entertain tonight.
Achilleas and Theodora looked happy enough, but to a young woman who was good at reading people by the language of their bodies, Tasia sensed a bit of tension between them. Of course, it had been an arranged marriage. Love at first sight was too much to ask, even if the bride was so beautiful it made her jealous.
She spotted her two cousins as well as many others she knew and began weaving her way toward her parents, who were conversing with Lord Fotios and Lady Erini. The newly married couple had parted and Emilios went to speak with Theodora. From the way they held themselves, Tasia thought they looked more familiar with each other than she would have thought. Perhaps I need to watch those two more closely tonight.
Approaching her parents and noticing that Lord Fotios and Lady Erini were speaking quietly with each other, she smiled and dropped a perfect if rather casual curtsy to her father. “Your Majesty,” she greeted him with a disarming smile before turning to her mother, “And my lovely Lady mother. Everything is going quite well ...”
Before she could say anything else, she saw Theodora toss her wine right into Emilios' face. Now what was that all about? Lowering her voice so that nobody but her parents could hear, she whispered: “And there's never a dull moment, it seems.”
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Tasia grinned into her mirror, turning this way and that. Her blue silk chiton, bordered with gold bands embroidered with beads, swirled around her legs. Her matching himation swayed gently with her graceful movements. Everyone would notice her tonight, which was precisely her intention.
Heading downstairs to help her mother, she spent the time before the guests arrived ordering the slaves to rearrange some of the flowers in the vases and sending a few trays of food back to the kitchen because the delicacies needed more garnishes or the trays themselves needed to be polished. Tasia inspected the courtyard as well. This was her home, and she wanted it to be flawless and impressive for this most important event.
It didn't bother her that she had not attended the wedding itself. The ceremonies would have bored her to tears. She was better off here, where she could be useful and do what she did best … socialize. Which was exactly what she did when the guests began to trickle in, greeting them and making them feel at ease. She complimented the women and subtly flirted with the men, both young and old, staying away, for the moment, from the more esteemed visitors. There were plenty of less important courtiers to charm and she knew that not all of the members of the greater noble houses approved of her existence. But exist she did and they would have to accept her eventually now that her father was King.
Tasia was in the courtyard when the wedding party arrived. She was drawn inside by Hesiodos' melodious voice singing a song he had most likely written for the occasion. I shall have to ask him if he would like to sing a duet later,she thought. Her instruments were still in her room, but she did want to entertain tonight.
Achilleas and Theodora looked happy enough, but to a young woman who was good at reading people by the language of their bodies, Tasia sensed a bit of tension between them. Of course, it had been an arranged marriage. Love at first sight was too much to ask, even if the bride was so beautiful it made her jealous.
She spotted her two cousins as well as many others she knew and began weaving her way toward her parents, who were conversing with Lord Fotios and Lady Erini. The newly married couple had parted and Emilios went to speak with Theodora. From the way they held themselves, Tasia thought they looked more familiar with each other than she would have thought. Perhaps I need to watch those two more closely tonight.
Approaching her parents and noticing that Lord Fotios and Lady Erini were speaking quietly with each other, she smiled and dropped a perfect if rather casual curtsy to her father. “Your Majesty,” she greeted him with a disarming smile before turning to her mother, “And my lovely Lady mother. Everything is going quite well ...”
Before she could say anything else, she saw Theodora toss her wine right into Emilios' face. Now what was that all about? Lowering her voice so that nobody but her parents could hear, she whispered: “And there's never a dull moment, it seems.”
Tasia grinned into her mirror, turning this way and that. Her blue silk chiton, bordered with gold bands embroidered with beads, swirled around her legs. Her matching himation swayed gently with her graceful movements. Everyone would notice her tonight, which was precisely her intention.
Heading downstairs to help her mother, she spent the time before the guests arrived ordering the slaves to rearrange some of the flowers in the vases and sending a few trays of food back to the kitchen because the delicacies needed more garnishes or the trays themselves needed to be polished. Tasia inspected the courtyard as well. This was her home, and she wanted it to be flawless and impressive for this most important event.
It didn't bother her that she had not attended the wedding itself. The ceremonies would have bored her to tears. She was better off here, where she could be useful and do what she did best … socialize. Which was exactly what she did when the guests began to trickle in, greeting them and making them feel at ease. She complimented the women and subtly flirted with the men, both young and old, staying away, for the moment, from the more esteemed visitors. There were plenty of less important courtiers to charm and she knew that not all of the members of the greater noble houses approved of her existence. But exist she did and they would have to accept her eventually now that her father was King.
Tasia was in the courtyard when the wedding party arrived. She was drawn inside by Hesiodos' melodious voice singing a song he had most likely written for the occasion. I shall have to ask him if he would like to sing a duet later,she thought. Her instruments were still in her room, but she did want to entertain tonight.
Achilleas and Theodora looked happy enough, but to a young woman who was good at reading people by the language of their bodies, Tasia sensed a bit of tension between them. Of course, it had been an arranged marriage. Love at first sight was too much to ask, even if the bride was so beautiful it made her jealous.
She spotted her two cousins as well as many others she knew and began weaving her way toward her parents, who were conversing with Lord Fotios and Lady Erini. The newly married couple had parted and Emilios went to speak with Theodora. From the way they held themselves, Tasia thought they looked more familiar with each other than she would have thought. Perhaps I need to watch those two more closely tonight.
Approaching her parents and noticing that Lord Fotios and Lady Erini were speaking quietly with each other, she smiled and dropped a perfect if rather casual curtsy to her father. “Your Majesty,” she greeted him with a disarming smile before turning to her mother, “And my lovely Lady mother. Everything is going quite well ...”
Before she could say anything else, she saw Theodora toss her wine right into Emilios' face. Now what was that all about? Lowering her voice so that nobody but her parents could hear, she whispered: “And there's never a dull moment, it seems.”
Eirini envied her husband's mind at times, not only was her lord intelligent beyond measure, but he was calculating too and in a way that fooled so many – a true snake in the grass, however crude the comparison may have been. There were many traits that she shared with Fotios, intellect and cunning being but a few, but there was a detachment to Fotios that Eirini perhaps lacked and it was something that made him the top predator at court.
Had she not known the man as well as she did, Eirini may have doubted many things about him... trust would have been made impossible, alas the lady had had the honour of watching Fotios hone his skill over the years and so she had an advantage to everyone else. She saw the mechanisms behind the man, understood his logic and therefore knew the man like the back of her hand.
Darkened eyes remained fixated upon Fotios as he toasted, her gaze seeping into the depths of his soul. Their relationship had always gone against conformity, so this was not the first affair that she had witnessed nor been privy to. It was all a part of the business, so to speak, and Eirini herself had engaged in numerous extra marital conquest, but try as she might Eirini had never quite mastered the art of controlling her jealousy. She could not help it, it burned within her with such a ferocity that she feared eruption at any point... thankfully, however, she was perhaps more easily sated than a active volcano.
It was eased by attention, mostly and the reassurance that Fotios remembered who he rested next to every night. Lips tugged coyly into a smirk, one she quickly masked with her chalice, though a brow arched in delight at the heat of his tongue. "Jealousy? I don't quite know what you are referring to, husband.." She toyed quietly before letting him continue, catching the spark in his eye as he relayed his little 'game' to her. There could be no denying the thrill she felt being involved in his conquests, their own insider knowledge enthralled her completely and Eirini found herself growing excited at the prospect.
She hummed in pretence of contemplation, "You truly believe your skill in seduction to be so consuming, husband?" Eirini teased lightly, they were both well versed in the others skill. "You forget, the most excitement our young princess has had thus far is when she gallops too fast upon her steed – very well then, get her to blush, tremble and bite her lip and perhaps I shall reward your efforts this eve." Leaning in, she pressed her lips high upon his cheek and whispered, "I'll be watching you.." her sing-song voice flittered into his ear before she pulled away completely, her perfume trailing behind her with every sway of her hips.
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Eirini envied her husband's mind at times, not only was her lord intelligent beyond measure, but he was calculating too and in a way that fooled so many – a true snake in the grass, however crude the comparison may have been. There were many traits that she shared with Fotios, intellect and cunning being but a few, but there was a detachment to Fotios that Eirini perhaps lacked and it was something that made him the top predator at court.
Had she not known the man as well as she did, Eirini may have doubted many things about him... trust would have been made impossible, alas the lady had had the honour of watching Fotios hone his skill over the years and so she had an advantage to everyone else. She saw the mechanisms behind the man, understood his logic and therefore knew the man like the back of her hand.
Darkened eyes remained fixated upon Fotios as he toasted, her gaze seeping into the depths of his soul. Their relationship had always gone against conformity, so this was not the first affair that she had witnessed nor been privy to. It was all a part of the business, so to speak, and Eirini herself had engaged in numerous extra marital conquest, but try as she might Eirini had never quite mastered the art of controlling her jealousy. She could not help it, it burned within her with such a ferocity that she feared eruption at any point... thankfully, however, she was perhaps more easily sated than a active volcano.
It was eased by attention, mostly and the reassurance that Fotios remembered who he rested next to every night. Lips tugged coyly into a smirk, one she quickly masked with her chalice, though a brow arched in delight at the heat of his tongue. "Jealousy? I don't quite know what you are referring to, husband.." She toyed quietly before letting him continue, catching the spark in his eye as he relayed his little 'game' to her. There could be no denying the thrill she felt being involved in his conquests, their own insider knowledge enthralled her completely and Eirini found herself growing excited at the prospect.
She hummed in pretence of contemplation, "You truly believe your skill in seduction to be so consuming, husband?" Eirini teased lightly, they were both well versed in the others skill. "You forget, the most excitement our young princess has had thus far is when she gallops too fast upon her steed – very well then, get her to blush, tremble and bite her lip and perhaps I shall reward your efforts this eve." Leaning in, she pressed her lips high upon his cheek and whispered, "I'll be watching you.." her sing-song voice flittered into his ear before she pulled away completely, her perfume trailing behind her with every sway of her hips.
Eirini envied her husband's mind at times, not only was her lord intelligent beyond measure, but he was calculating too and in a way that fooled so many – a true snake in the grass, however crude the comparison may have been. There were many traits that she shared with Fotios, intellect and cunning being but a few, but there was a detachment to Fotios that Eirini perhaps lacked and it was something that made him the top predator at court.
Had she not known the man as well as she did, Eirini may have doubted many things about him... trust would have been made impossible, alas the lady had had the honour of watching Fotios hone his skill over the years and so she had an advantage to everyone else. She saw the mechanisms behind the man, understood his logic and therefore knew the man like the back of her hand.
Darkened eyes remained fixated upon Fotios as he toasted, her gaze seeping into the depths of his soul. Their relationship had always gone against conformity, so this was not the first affair that she had witnessed nor been privy to. It was all a part of the business, so to speak, and Eirini herself had engaged in numerous extra marital conquest, but try as she might Eirini had never quite mastered the art of controlling her jealousy. She could not help it, it burned within her with such a ferocity that she feared eruption at any point... thankfully, however, she was perhaps more easily sated than a active volcano.
It was eased by attention, mostly and the reassurance that Fotios remembered who he rested next to every night. Lips tugged coyly into a smirk, one she quickly masked with her chalice, though a brow arched in delight at the heat of his tongue. "Jealousy? I don't quite know what you are referring to, husband.." She toyed quietly before letting him continue, catching the spark in his eye as he relayed his little 'game' to her. There could be no denying the thrill she felt being involved in his conquests, their own insider knowledge enthralled her completely and Eirini found herself growing excited at the prospect.
She hummed in pretence of contemplation, "You truly believe your skill in seduction to be so consuming, husband?" Eirini teased lightly, they were both well versed in the others skill. "You forget, the most excitement our young princess has had thus far is when she gallops too fast upon her steed – very well then, get her to blush, tremble and bite her lip and perhaps I shall reward your efforts this eve." Leaning in, she pressed her lips high upon his cheek and whispered, "I'll be watching you.." her sing-song voice flittered into his ear before she pulled away completely, her perfume trailing behind her with every sway of her hips.
Princess Xene was courteous, as she tended to be, in her greeting to him. The proper bow she returned to him had him watching her for the moment as she spoke. “I am pleased to see you, Lord Dimitrou. Though you appear as if you are quite out of your element.”
“Let it be as you say,” he said in his gruff way, not liking that she saw his boredom as discomfort.
The princess seemed as though she wanted to make him feel better, which he found endearing, by adding ”Don’t worry. I feel quite the same.” If she did, he couldn’t tell. She looked the picture of ease, even going so far as to gather her younger sister, Princess Gianna to her once the second princess came up. Gavriil bowed to her the same as he had to Princess Xene, not doing more than the passing smile that formality required. He didn’t know either princess overly well. His only thoughts on them were that they seemed to be sweet, good sorts of girls, which was amazing, considering the intrigues that surrounded them. He hoped they’d escape the entrapments of this court unscathed.
“Lord Dimitrou,” Evangelina dropped into a curtsey that drew his attention as much as her soft greeting. To her, he did smile, though he didn’t linger too long on her dress. The understanding between them was still very much informal and he didn’t want to draw much attention to it at the moment. During the short conversation that followed, he noted that she stayed mostly quiet and at the first chance she got, excused herself from the conversation. He watched her go, catching the look she threw over her shoulder.
He did not follow her and instead, stayed by the princesses. Dorothea was somewhere in the group but he’d lost his entire family to the sprawling Mikaelidas manor. Now and then he caught sight of his brother, but Dorotheos was a more outgoing man than himself and was chatting to this person and that easily enough. Gavriil’s attention wandered to where Lady Eirini and Lord Fotios stood. He watched them for a moment before his attention was again diverted when the new Princess Theodora threw wine in Prince Emilios’s face.
Raising his eyebrows, he mentioned to the two princesses still with him, “This wedding just got interesting.” He looked to Princess Gianna and Princess Xene to see how they bore this vulgar display of their cousins before looking back at Prince Achilleas, who looked to have no patience at all for what was happening.
“If you’ll excuse me,” he said after a moment, bowing low to both princesses before making his way through the crowd. He didn’t exactly mean to do it, but he didn’t mean not to, either. Evangelina was before him, and he nudged her with his shoulder as he walked past. “Find your brother?”
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Princess Xene was courteous, as she tended to be, in her greeting to him. The proper bow she returned to him had him watching her for the moment as she spoke. “I am pleased to see you, Lord Dimitrou. Though you appear as if you are quite out of your element.”
“Let it be as you say,” he said in his gruff way, not liking that she saw his boredom as discomfort.
The princess seemed as though she wanted to make him feel better, which he found endearing, by adding ”Don’t worry. I feel quite the same.” If she did, he couldn’t tell. She looked the picture of ease, even going so far as to gather her younger sister, Princess Gianna to her once the second princess came up. Gavriil bowed to her the same as he had to Princess Xene, not doing more than the passing smile that formality required. He didn’t know either princess overly well. His only thoughts on them were that they seemed to be sweet, good sorts of girls, which was amazing, considering the intrigues that surrounded them. He hoped they’d escape the entrapments of this court unscathed.
“Lord Dimitrou,” Evangelina dropped into a curtsey that drew his attention as much as her soft greeting. To her, he did smile, though he didn’t linger too long on her dress. The understanding between them was still very much informal and he didn’t want to draw much attention to it at the moment. During the short conversation that followed, he noted that she stayed mostly quiet and at the first chance she got, excused herself from the conversation. He watched her go, catching the look she threw over her shoulder.
He did not follow her and instead, stayed by the princesses. Dorothea was somewhere in the group but he’d lost his entire family to the sprawling Mikaelidas manor. Now and then he caught sight of his brother, but Dorotheos was a more outgoing man than himself and was chatting to this person and that easily enough. Gavriil’s attention wandered to where Lady Eirini and Lord Fotios stood. He watched them for a moment before his attention was again diverted when the new Princess Theodora threw wine in Prince Emilios’s face.
Raising his eyebrows, he mentioned to the two princesses still with him, “This wedding just got interesting.” He looked to Princess Gianna and Princess Xene to see how they bore this vulgar display of their cousins before looking back at Prince Achilleas, who looked to have no patience at all for what was happening.
“If you’ll excuse me,” he said after a moment, bowing low to both princesses before making his way through the crowd. He didn’t exactly mean to do it, but he didn’t mean not to, either. Evangelina was before him, and he nudged her with his shoulder as he walked past. “Find your brother?”
Princess Xene was courteous, as she tended to be, in her greeting to him. The proper bow she returned to him had him watching her for the moment as she spoke. “I am pleased to see you, Lord Dimitrou. Though you appear as if you are quite out of your element.”
“Let it be as you say,” he said in his gruff way, not liking that she saw his boredom as discomfort.
The princess seemed as though she wanted to make him feel better, which he found endearing, by adding ”Don’t worry. I feel quite the same.” If she did, he couldn’t tell. She looked the picture of ease, even going so far as to gather her younger sister, Princess Gianna to her once the second princess came up. Gavriil bowed to her the same as he had to Princess Xene, not doing more than the passing smile that formality required. He didn’t know either princess overly well. His only thoughts on them were that they seemed to be sweet, good sorts of girls, which was amazing, considering the intrigues that surrounded them. He hoped they’d escape the entrapments of this court unscathed.
“Lord Dimitrou,” Evangelina dropped into a curtsey that drew his attention as much as her soft greeting. To her, he did smile, though he didn’t linger too long on her dress. The understanding between them was still very much informal and he didn’t want to draw much attention to it at the moment. During the short conversation that followed, he noted that she stayed mostly quiet and at the first chance she got, excused herself from the conversation. He watched her go, catching the look she threw over her shoulder.
He did not follow her and instead, stayed by the princesses. Dorothea was somewhere in the group but he’d lost his entire family to the sprawling Mikaelidas manor. Now and then he caught sight of his brother, but Dorotheos was a more outgoing man than himself and was chatting to this person and that easily enough. Gavriil’s attention wandered to where Lady Eirini and Lord Fotios stood. He watched them for a moment before his attention was again diverted when the new Princess Theodora threw wine in Prince Emilios’s face.
Raising his eyebrows, he mentioned to the two princesses still with him, “This wedding just got interesting.” He looked to Princess Gianna and Princess Xene to see how they bore this vulgar display of their cousins before looking back at Prince Achilleas, who looked to have no patience at all for what was happening.
“If you’ll excuse me,” he said after a moment, bowing low to both princesses before making his way through the crowd. He didn’t exactly mean to do it, but he didn’t mean not to, either. Evangelina was before him, and he nudged her with his shoulder as he walked past. “Find your brother?”
The man smiled and laughed heartily at Fotios's response to him, but the two soon parted, Irakles's attention taken when his mistress came to draw his attention to other matters and guests who needed him. In truth, Irakles was used to handling audiences, having been brought up and trained all his life to do exactly that. However, the man found himself tiring quickly that night as he made his rounds, trying his best to mask the twinge on his face with each pull of his heartstrings. A few times, Meena laid a hand on his arm as he made his rounds with her, but he merely shook his head and brushed her off, unwilling to retire early for his own son's wedding, and really, the first public audience he's had ever since he had taken the position of King.
Occasionally, the man would look up to glance at the performance of Achilleas and his new wife, but was adequetely satisfied by how they were. Emilios got an occasional glance from him as well, but so long as the second son kept his image up, there was nothing wrong with a new brother in law occasionally conversing with his brother's new wife.
Finding a moment's respite as the crowds chatted and mingled, Irakles frowned as he notice a lack of a dirty blonde head, and bent down to ask his mistress. "Is Tasia not planning on arriving?" Meena however, redirected Irakles's gaze to where his eldest daughter had been all this while, and for a moment, the man was struck by how much alike his daughter and Meena had grown to be. There was no doubt that Tasia took after her mother, down to how she dressed, for the men batted eyes at the girl, even if she was technically no noble-born lady.
Catching her eye as Tasia began to walk over, Irakles's features remained unchanged even as she greeted him - appropriately, much to his pleasure. The man simply gave a curt tilt of his head at the girl, nodding before he spoke. "As it should b-" before the man could finish however, the sudden hush made Irakles turn, and then frown deeply when he saw Emilios covered in red wine, dripping even as he made his excuses and left. There was a ripple of laughter that tittered thanks to Emilios's explanation, but Irakles doubted that was exactly what had happened, and made a mental note to call Emilios and speak to the man privately. He had personally warned the whole family to ensure that nothing untoward was to happen at the affair - Emilios clearly forgot.
Feeling the tightening of his forearm, Meena quickly patted the man, her comfort failing as Irakles's gaze followed Emilios sternly out of the room, before they turned to Achilleas, a clear sign for the elder son to fix the matter before the wedding turned into a debacle for all to gossip about for the next month. Anger was an understatement, for Irakles coudl almost hear the blood pounding in his ear.
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The man smiled and laughed heartily at Fotios's response to him, but the two soon parted, Irakles's attention taken when his mistress came to draw his attention to other matters and guests who needed him. In truth, Irakles was used to handling audiences, having been brought up and trained all his life to do exactly that. However, the man found himself tiring quickly that night as he made his rounds, trying his best to mask the twinge on his face with each pull of his heartstrings. A few times, Meena laid a hand on his arm as he made his rounds with her, but he merely shook his head and brushed her off, unwilling to retire early for his own son's wedding, and really, the first public audience he's had ever since he had taken the position of King.
Occasionally, the man would look up to glance at the performance of Achilleas and his new wife, but was adequetely satisfied by how they were. Emilios got an occasional glance from him as well, but so long as the second son kept his image up, there was nothing wrong with a new brother in law occasionally conversing with his brother's new wife.
Finding a moment's respite as the crowds chatted and mingled, Irakles frowned as he notice a lack of a dirty blonde head, and bent down to ask his mistress. "Is Tasia not planning on arriving?" Meena however, redirected Irakles's gaze to where his eldest daughter had been all this while, and for a moment, the man was struck by how much alike his daughter and Meena had grown to be. There was no doubt that Tasia took after her mother, down to how she dressed, for the men batted eyes at the girl, even if she was technically no noble-born lady.
Catching her eye as Tasia began to walk over, Irakles's features remained unchanged even as she greeted him - appropriately, much to his pleasure. The man simply gave a curt tilt of his head at the girl, nodding before he spoke. "As it should b-" before the man could finish however, the sudden hush made Irakles turn, and then frown deeply when he saw Emilios covered in red wine, dripping even as he made his excuses and left. There was a ripple of laughter that tittered thanks to Emilios's explanation, but Irakles doubted that was exactly what had happened, and made a mental note to call Emilios and speak to the man privately. He had personally warned the whole family to ensure that nothing untoward was to happen at the affair - Emilios clearly forgot.
Feeling the tightening of his forearm, Meena quickly patted the man, her comfort failing as Irakles's gaze followed Emilios sternly out of the room, before they turned to Achilleas, a clear sign for the elder son to fix the matter before the wedding turned into a debacle for all to gossip about for the next month. Anger was an understatement, for Irakles coudl almost hear the blood pounding in his ear.
The man smiled and laughed heartily at Fotios's response to him, but the two soon parted, Irakles's attention taken when his mistress came to draw his attention to other matters and guests who needed him. In truth, Irakles was used to handling audiences, having been brought up and trained all his life to do exactly that. However, the man found himself tiring quickly that night as he made his rounds, trying his best to mask the twinge on his face with each pull of his heartstrings. A few times, Meena laid a hand on his arm as he made his rounds with her, but he merely shook his head and brushed her off, unwilling to retire early for his own son's wedding, and really, the first public audience he's had ever since he had taken the position of King.
Occasionally, the man would look up to glance at the performance of Achilleas and his new wife, but was adequetely satisfied by how they were. Emilios got an occasional glance from him as well, but so long as the second son kept his image up, there was nothing wrong with a new brother in law occasionally conversing with his brother's new wife.
Finding a moment's respite as the crowds chatted and mingled, Irakles frowned as he notice a lack of a dirty blonde head, and bent down to ask his mistress. "Is Tasia not planning on arriving?" Meena however, redirected Irakles's gaze to where his eldest daughter had been all this while, and for a moment, the man was struck by how much alike his daughter and Meena had grown to be. There was no doubt that Tasia took after her mother, down to how she dressed, for the men batted eyes at the girl, even if she was technically no noble-born lady.
Catching her eye as Tasia began to walk over, Irakles's features remained unchanged even as she greeted him - appropriately, much to his pleasure. The man simply gave a curt tilt of his head at the girl, nodding before he spoke. "As it should b-" before the man could finish however, the sudden hush made Irakles turn, and then frown deeply when he saw Emilios covered in red wine, dripping even as he made his excuses and left. There was a ripple of laughter that tittered thanks to Emilios's explanation, but Irakles doubted that was exactly what had happened, and made a mental note to call Emilios and speak to the man privately. He had personally warned the whole family to ensure that nothing untoward was to happen at the affair - Emilios clearly forgot.
Feeling the tightening of his forearm, Meena quickly patted the man, her comfort failing as Irakles's gaze followed Emilios sternly out of the room, before they turned to Achilleas, a clear sign for the elder son to fix the matter before the wedding turned into a debacle for all to gossip about for the next month. Anger was an understatement, for Irakles coudl almost hear the blood pounding in his ear.
Theodora couldn't believe the ease with which her past lover lied to his kin. Perhaps it was a male thing... the ability to deceive your sibling so easily. But Theo had never been able to do it with her sisters. It was true that she did not tell them everything; that she had managed to hide her past from the members of her family not already in the know. But somewhere, deep down in her heart, she knew that she had only not revealed her less than chaste past because she had never been directly asked. Sins of omission were far easily to handle, and she had no confidence that she would have been able to lie with bold determination to the girls who were her security and safety.
Luckily, she had never been tested as such, and life had been peaceful.
Her gaze flickered between the brothers with a panicked sort of darting motion, as she re-evaluated that assessment. She could lie when not asked... or when she feared that the truth would be more painful than any deceit could be... For she had never told Achilleas the truth...
Theo swallowed. Perhaps she could not judge Emilios too harshly when she played the exact same game with a man too good for the position of her husband.
As guilt curled in her belly, Emilios filled the silence with an easy fallacy. She felt her eyes prick with tears and the skin of her neck and behind her ears start to burn with shame.
Perhaps it was the ceremony. The formality, the preparation, the holding oneself to the image of perfection. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep and the worry. Perhaps it was simple exhaustion from all that had come to pass in the last week or so... but Theodora felt her handle on her emotions slip a little, and her painted lips drew inwards in a revelation of nervousness.
Everyone was looking. Everyone was to witness her foolish and stupid moment of rage. How could she had done that? What kind of idiot would react so strongly in a manner that drew attention to the very thing she had sought to hide?
Her thoughts were a mess. They lacked focus. She had no idea what she was doing. And despite her lips parting a few times to try and summon some form of explanation, she wasn't able to draw a sound from her stifled throat before Emilios was excusing himself, blaming her actions on a coarse joke he had delivered and then leaving her in the company of her husband and a hundred pairs of eyes staring their way.
In an attempt to avoid their gazes, Theo turned her frame, her glistening gaze dropping so that she would be hidden in the shadow of her husband's shoulder, not daring to draw nearer to him, less he take insult. She simply remained where she was, her figure diminishing in a clear expression of embarrassment or regret.
With a soft sniff that drew no tears, only allowing those that had appeared to soak into her lashes but never to fall upon her cheeks, Theo's mouth quirked into an uncertain and faltering half smile as she glanced up towards Achilleas. She looked at him in spurts, as if ashamed to hold his gaze for too long.
"It would appear..." Theo began, her tone a mock sense of humour as she clearly attempted to lighten a mood that drew down around her. "...that I shall be the first in our marriage to beg their spouse's forgiveness." Her next breath exited her lips on a dry and bodiless laugh. "Not that I had much doubt." The words were as self-flagellating towards herself as they were complimentary to him. She looked up from beneath her lashes, directing her gaze up the massive height of her husband, before allowing it to quickly fall back and stare a hole in the front of his chiton.
With a soft brush of her nose with the back of her fingers that somehow still came across as a gesture of elegance, Theo seemed to regain some of her confidence. Her shoulders straightened out and her full height returned. Yet her demeanour and expressions still read as a little rattled.
"It was my fault, Achilleas." She assured him, taking blame and responsibility for the disrupt to their festivities. "In... In hindsight I realise that your brother was only trying to welcome me to the family... in his own... humorous way." She turned her attention to her feet and closed her eyes, as if steeling her strength. She shook her head when she raised it once more. "I think perhaps the preparations for the wedding have left me more tired... more raw... than I had realised and I reacted without thinking."
The young bride seemed to peer around her husband's shoulder with a look that mingled fear with awkward determination.
"And now I have caused a scene and embarrassed myself..." She fiddled with her gown, before looking back up to her husband. Her face crumpled a little, as if she were in pain. "Yet, worse still, my husband." The long and elegant column of her neck sunk and rose as she swallowed, her eyes damp with unshed tears, her cheeks high with colour. She reached out and placed the palm of one of her hands upon his chest. Warmth seeped towards the coolness of her fingers from beneath his garments and she felt the strength of his muscles beneath. "Please, Achilleas, I'm so very sorry." Her words caught in her throat and she seemed on the verge of tears. She glanced towards the direction Emilios had left into the main belly of the manor itself. "Do you think your brother will forgive me?" Her other hand came up to press upon her lips.
She seemed not to know where to look - after the brother she had offended, towards the one she had embarrassed or out over the crowd that stared in their direction. Her entire image spoke of one who wanted to hide her shame yet was determined not to diminish herself and humiliate her husband further... Finally, she settled her gaze on the man before her and finished her fears... "...will you?"
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Theodora couldn't believe the ease with which her past lover lied to his kin. Perhaps it was a male thing... the ability to deceive your sibling so easily. But Theo had never been able to do it with her sisters. It was true that she did not tell them everything; that she had managed to hide her past from the members of her family not already in the know. But somewhere, deep down in her heart, she knew that she had only not revealed her less than chaste past because she had never been directly asked. Sins of omission were far easily to handle, and she had no confidence that she would have been able to lie with bold determination to the girls who were her security and safety.
Luckily, she had never been tested as such, and life had been peaceful.
Her gaze flickered between the brothers with a panicked sort of darting motion, as she re-evaluated that assessment. She could lie when not asked... or when she feared that the truth would be more painful than any deceit could be... For she had never told Achilleas the truth...
Theo swallowed. Perhaps she could not judge Emilios too harshly when she played the exact same game with a man too good for the position of her husband.
As guilt curled in her belly, Emilios filled the silence with an easy fallacy. She felt her eyes prick with tears and the skin of her neck and behind her ears start to burn with shame.
Perhaps it was the ceremony. The formality, the preparation, the holding oneself to the image of perfection. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep and the worry. Perhaps it was simple exhaustion from all that had come to pass in the last week or so... but Theodora felt her handle on her emotions slip a little, and her painted lips drew inwards in a revelation of nervousness.
Everyone was looking. Everyone was to witness her foolish and stupid moment of rage. How could she had done that? What kind of idiot would react so strongly in a manner that drew attention to the very thing she had sought to hide?
Her thoughts were a mess. They lacked focus. She had no idea what she was doing. And despite her lips parting a few times to try and summon some form of explanation, she wasn't able to draw a sound from her stifled throat before Emilios was excusing himself, blaming her actions on a coarse joke he had delivered and then leaving her in the company of her husband and a hundred pairs of eyes staring their way.
In an attempt to avoid their gazes, Theo turned her frame, her glistening gaze dropping so that she would be hidden in the shadow of her husband's shoulder, not daring to draw nearer to him, less he take insult. She simply remained where she was, her figure diminishing in a clear expression of embarrassment or regret.
With a soft sniff that drew no tears, only allowing those that had appeared to soak into her lashes but never to fall upon her cheeks, Theo's mouth quirked into an uncertain and faltering half smile as she glanced up towards Achilleas. She looked at him in spurts, as if ashamed to hold his gaze for too long.
"It would appear..." Theo began, her tone a mock sense of humour as she clearly attempted to lighten a mood that drew down around her. "...that I shall be the first in our marriage to beg their spouse's forgiveness." Her next breath exited her lips on a dry and bodiless laugh. "Not that I had much doubt." The words were as self-flagellating towards herself as they were complimentary to him. She looked up from beneath her lashes, directing her gaze up the massive height of her husband, before allowing it to quickly fall back and stare a hole in the front of his chiton.
With a soft brush of her nose with the back of her fingers that somehow still came across as a gesture of elegance, Theo seemed to regain some of her confidence. Her shoulders straightened out and her full height returned. Yet her demeanour and expressions still read as a little rattled.
"It was my fault, Achilleas." She assured him, taking blame and responsibility for the disrupt to their festivities. "In... In hindsight I realise that your brother was only trying to welcome me to the family... in his own... humorous way." She turned her attention to her feet and closed her eyes, as if steeling her strength. She shook her head when she raised it once more. "I think perhaps the preparations for the wedding have left me more tired... more raw... than I had realised and I reacted without thinking."
The young bride seemed to peer around her husband's shoulder with a look that mingled fear with awkward determination.
"And now I have caused a scene and embarrassed myself..." She fiddled with her gown, before looking back up to her husband. Her face crumpled a little, as if she were in pain. "Yet, worse still, my husband." The long and elegant column of her neck sunk and rose as she swallowed, her eyes damp with unshed tears, her cheeks high with colour. She reached out and placed the palm of one of her hands upon his chest. Warmth seeped towards the coolness of her fingers from beneath his garments and she felt the strength of his muscles beneath. "Please, Achilleas, I'm so very sorry." Her words caught in her throat and she seemed on the verge of tears. She glanced towards the direction Emilios had left into the main belly of the manor itself. "Do you think your brother will forgive me?" Her other hand came up to press upon her lips.
She seemed not to know where to look - after the brother she had offended, towards the one she had embarrassed or out over the crowd that stared in their direction. Her entire image spoke of one who wanted to hide her shame yet was determined not to diminish herself and humiliate her husband further... Finally, she settled her gaze on the man before her and finished her fears... "...will you?"
Theodora couldn't believe the ease with which her past lover lied to his kin. Perhaps it was a male thing... the ability to deceive your sibling so easily. But Theo had never been able to do it with her sisters. It was true that she did not tell them everything; that she had managed to hide her past from the members of her family not already in the know. But somewhere, deep down in her heart, she knew that she had only not revealed her less than chaste past because she had never been directly asked. Sins of omission were far easily to handle, and she had no confidence that she would have been able to lie with bold determination to the girls who were her security and safety.
Luckily, she had never been tested as such, and life had been peaceful.
Her gaze flickered between the brothers with a panicked sort of darting motion, as she re-evaluated that assessment. She could lie when not asked... or when she feared that the truth would be more painful than any deceit could be... For she had never told Achilleas the truth...
Theo swallowed. Perhaps she could not judge Emilios too harshly when she played the exact same game with a man too good for the position of her husband.
As guilt curled in her belly, Emilios filled the silence with an easy fallacy. She felt her eyes prick with tears and the skin of her neck and behind her ears start to burn with shame.
Perhaps it was the ceremony. The formality, the preparation, the holding oneself to the image of perfection. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep and the worry. Perhaps it was simple exhaustion from all that had come to pass in the last week or so... but Theodora felt her handle on her emotions slip a little, and her painted lips drew inwards in a revelation of nervousness.
Everyone was looking. Everyone was to witness her foolish and stupid moment of rage. How could she had done that? What kind of idiot would react so strongly in a manner that drew attention to the very thing she had sought to hide?
Her thoughts were a mess. They lacked focus. She had no idea what she was doing. And despite her lips parting a few times to try and summon some form of explanation, she wasn't able to draw a sound from her stifled throat before Emilios was excusing himself, blaming her actions on a coarse joke he had delivered and then leaving her in the company of her husband and a hundred pairs of eyes staring their way.
In an attempt to avoid their gazes, Theo turned her frame, her glistening gaze dropping so that she would be hidden in the shadow of her husband's shoulder, not daring to draw nearer to him, less he take insult. She simply remained where she was, her figure diminishing in a clear expression of embarrassment or regret.
With a soft sniff that drew no tears, only allowing those that had appeared to soak into her lashes but never to fall upon her cheeks, Theo's mouth quirked into an uncertain and faltering half smile as she glanced up towards Achilleas. She looked at him in spurts, as if ashamed to hold his gaze for too long.
"It would appear..." Theo began, her tone a mock sense of humour as she clearly attempted to lighten a mood that drew down around her. "...that I shall be the first in our marriage to beg their spouse's forgiveness." Her next breath exited her lips on a dry and bodiless laugh. "Not that I had much doubt." The words were as self-flagellating towards herself as they were complimentary to him. She looked up from beneath her lashes, directing her gaze up the massive height of her husband, before allowing it to quickly fall back and stare a hole in the front of his chiton.
With a soft brush of her nose with the back of her fingers that somehow still came across as a gesture of elegance, Theo seemed to regain some of her confidence. Her shoulders straightened out and her full height returned. Yet her demeanour and expressions still read as a little rattled.
"It was my fault, Achilleas." She assured him, taking blame and responsibility for the disrupt to their festivities. "In... In hindsight I realise that your brother was only trying to welcome me to the family... in his own... humorous way." She turned her attention to her feet and closed her eyes, as if steeling her strength. She shook her head when she raised it once more. "I think perhaps the preparations for the wedding have left me more tired... more raw... than I had realised and I reacted without thinking."
The young bride seemed to peer around her husband's shoulder with a look that mingled fear with awkward determination.
"And now I have caused a scene and embarrassed myself..." She fiddled with her gown, before looking back up to her husband. Her face crumpled a little, as if she were in pain. "Yet, worse still, my husband." The long and elegant column of her neck sunk and rose as she swallowed, her eyes damp with unshed tears, her cheeks high with colour. She reached out and placed the palm of one of her hands upon his chest. Warmth seeped towards the coolness of her fingers from beneath his garments and she felt the strength of his muscles beneath. "Please, Achilleas, I'm so very sorry." Her words caught in her throat and she seemed on the verge of tears. She glanced towards the direction Emilios had left into the main belly of the manor itself. "Do you think your brother will forgive me?" Her other hand came up to press upon her lips.
She seemed not to know where to look - after the brother she had offended, towards the one she had embarrassed or out over the crowd that stared in their direction. Her entire image spoke of one who wanted to hide her shame yet was determined not to diminish herself and humiliate her husband further... Finally, she settled her gaze on the man before her and finished her fears... "...will you?"
Whilst a man that never drew attention to himself, Fotios was more observant than most might expect for a lord that operated so far outside of the crowds... Or so people thought. With his gaze and apparent attention on his wife, Fotios was listening simultaneously to Eirini's words of play, and the developments between the bride and groom that were drawing much of the attention of the crowds. His profile turning only slightly to acknowledge the disturbance so that he did not appear deaf, and then was focused once more upon the seductive orbs of his wife.
Eirini watched him with an intensity that drew him as it always did, her mind and calculating ways as attractive as the figure. She spoke with a soft huskiness that dripped with sensual arousal and toyed with his sensations without her even needing to touch him.
At her demands, Fotios simply raised an eyebrow. Three different reactions she was demanding from his little prey. In that moment, he wasn't sure whether she set the bar high so as to dissuade him from seducing the girl in public or in order to up his desire to meet her high standards and secure his no doubt deeply satisfying reward later that night...
Yet if she was hoping for the former, he would have condemned his wife for her foolishness in not knowing him better... for Fotios could never resist a challenge. At least not one that was offered by the woman he considered to be the other half of his soul. Any bets or gambles made by the stupid of the human species for purposes of ego or pride could go hang. Fotios had no desire to prove himself to those whom meant nothing.
Yet to Eirini...?
To Eirini he would prove himself to be whatever she wished...
As the woman walked away, Fotios was careful to keep his back towards where the young princess stood and watch with heated gaze that Eirini, he was sure, would feel down to her bones, as she sauntered away.
He kept the expression of desire upon his face as he turned to offer it to another, his legs moving slowly yet steadily eat up the distance between himself and Xene.
Waiting until she was free of those around her, and standing mostly to herself, he lifted the goblet from which he drank and used the distraction that his young niece had caused as a means of speaking with her without drawing the notice of those closest.
"I fear I have made an egregious miscalculation, my princess." He began, his words delivered with a tone of seriousness that would send her concerned for his judgement upon their last meeting. For nothing fluttered a young woman's heart more than the potential for losing that which it desired. Even if it was only for the duration of a break between sentences.
Standing a little to her side, facing in the opposite direction to she, he spoke with his mouth near to her ear, hidden by the rim of his cup.
"I had thought you to be a compassionate woman. Kind and generous... pure of heart, if you will." His gaze flickered to hers momentarily. His voice was deep and low - a murmur to a lover. "Then... at an event you knew me to be attending, where public gazes would restrict my moments... you wear-" His lashes lowered as his gaze followed suit, perusing her body and attire. "-that."
Ensuring that the angle of his body hid his hand from view, Fotios reached out to touch a single digit to the skin revealed by the gown. He drew it around its finer edges, silk brushing against the side of his finger, the satin of her skin against its pad.
"Cruel indeed, princess."
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Whilst a man that never drew attention to himself, Fotios was more observant than most might expect for a lord that operated so far outside of the crowds... Or so people thought. With his gaze and apparent attention on his wife, Fotios was listening simultaneously to Eirini's words of play, and the developments between the bride and groom that were drawing much of the attention of the crowds. His profile turning only slightly to acknowledge the disturbance so that he did not appear deaf, and then was focused once more upon the seductive orbs of his wife.
Eirini watched him with an intensity that drew him as it always did, her mind and calculating ways as attractive as the figure. She spoke with a soft huskiness that dripped with sensual arousal and toyed with his sensations without her even needing to touch him.
At her demands, Fotios simply raised an eyebrow. Three different reactions she was demanding from his little prey. In that moment, he wasn't sure whether she set the bar high so as to dissuade him from seducing the girl in public or in order to up his desire to meet her high standards and secure his no doubt deeply satisfying reward later that night...
Yet if she was hoping for the former, he would have condemned his wife for her foolishness in not knowing him better... for Fotios could never resist a challenge. At least not one that was offered by the woman he considered to be the other half of his soul. Any bets or gambles made by the stupid of the human species for purposes of ego or pride could go hang. Fotios had no desire to prove himself to those whom meant nothing.
Yet to Eirini...?
To Eirini he would prove himself to be whatever she wished...
As the woman walked away, Fotios was careful to keep his back towards where the young princess stood and watch with heated gaze that Eirini, he was sure, would feel down to her bones, as she sauntered away.
He kept the expression of desire upon his face as he turned to offer it to another, his legs moving slowly yet steadily eat up the distance between himself and Xene.
Waiting until she was free of those around her, and standing mostly to herself, he lifted the goblet from which he drank and used the distraction that his young niece had caused as a means of speaking with her without drawing the notice of those closest.
"I fear I have made an egregious miscalculation, my princess." He began, his words delivered with a tone of seriousness that would send her concerned for his judgement upon their last meeting. For nothing fluttered a young woman's heart more than the potential for losing that which it desired. Even if it was only for the duration of a break between sentences.
Standing a little to her side, facing in the opposite direction to she, he spoke with his mouth near to her ear, hidden by the rim of his cup.
"I had thought you to be a compassionate woman. Kind and generous... pure of heart, if you will." His gaze flickered to hers momentarily. His voice was deep and low - a murmur to a lover. "Then... at an event you knew me to be attending, where public gazes would restrict my moments... you wear-" His lashes lowered as his gaze followed suit, perusing her body and attire. "-that."
Ensuring that the angle of his body hid his hand from view, Fotios reached out to touch a single digit to the skin revealed by the gown. He drew it around its finer edges, silk brushing against the side of his finger, the satin of her skin against its pad.
"Cruel indeed, princess."
Whilst a man that never drew attention to himself, Fotios was more observant than most might expect for a lord that operated so far outside of the crowds... Or so people thought. With his gaze and apparent attention on his wife, Fotios was listening simultaneously to Eirini's words of play, and the developments between the bride and groom that were drawing much of the attention of the crowds. His profile turning only slightly to acknowledge the disturbance so that he did not appear deaf, and then was focused once more upon the seductive orbs of his wife.
Eirini watched him with an intensity that drew him as it always did, her mind and calculating ways as attractive as the figure. She spoke with a soft huskiness that dripped with sensual arousal and toyed with his sensations without her even needing to touch him.
At her demands, Fotios simply raised an eyebrow. Three different reactions she was demanding from his little prey. In that moment, he wasn't sure whether she set the bar high so as to dissuade him from seducing the girl in public or in order to up his desire to meet her high standards and secure his no doubt deeply satisfying reward later that night...
Yet if she was hoping for the former, he would have condemned his wife for her foolishness in not knowing him better... for Fotios could never resist a challenge. At least not one that was offered by the woman he considered to be the other half of his soul. Any bets or gambles made by the stupid of the human species for purposes of ego or pride could go hang. Fotios had no desire to prove himself to those whom meant nothing.
Yet to Eirini...?
To Eirini he would prove himself to be whatever she wished...
As the woman walked away, Fotios was careful to keep his back towards where the young princess stood and watch with heated gaze that Eirini, he was sure, would feel down to her bones, as she sauntered away.
He kept the expression of desire upon his face as he turned to offer it to another, his legs moving slowly yet steadily eat up the distance between himself and Xene.
Waiting until she was free of those around her, and standing mostly to herself, he lifted the goblet from which he drank and used the distraction that his young niece had caused as a means of speaking with her without drawing the notice of those closest.
"I fear I have made an egregious miscalculation, my princess." He began, his words delivered with a tone of seriousness that would send her concerned for his judgement upon their last meeting. For nothing fluttered a young woman's heart more than the potential for losing that which it desired. Even if it was only for the duration of a break between sentences.
Standing a little to her side, facing in the opposite direction to she, he spoke with his mouth near to her ear, hidden by the rim of his cup.
"I had thought you to be a compassionate woman. Kind and generous... pure of heart, if you will." His gaze flickered to hers momentarily. His voice was deep and low - a murmur to a lover. "Then... at an event you knew me to be attending, where public gazes would restrict my moments... you wear-" His lashes lowered as his gaze followed suit, perusing her body and attire. "-that."
Ensuring that the angle of his body hid his hand from view, Fotios reached out to touch a single digit to the skin revealed by the gown. He drew it around its finer edges, silk brushing against the side of his finger, the satin of her skin against its pad.
"Cruel indeed, princess."
Xene kept her gaze firmly on the new couple and Prince Emilios once the scene started to play out. She had only just caught the flight of the summer wine into Emilios’ face out of the corner of her eye, her blue gaze dragging fully to what was going on. The silence was deafening, which only added to Xene’s curiosity about what had happened between the three of them. What had Emilios done to turn the new princess so sour so quickly? It seemed such an odd step for her to take when she had only carried the Mikaelidas name for a few short moments.
She kinda of felt for her cousin, knowing that this situation likely wasn’t an easy one, nor was it one free of embarrassment. Everyone was watching, so there wasn’t even a moment to compose and collect themselves. Still lured by the sight, Xene took a careful sip of her wine, noting silently that many of her own companions flitted off in favor of other things. Other conversations and other people. That was natural in a setting like this. To mingle with other people. But Xene had found herself doing it less and less as of late, feeling more guarded against the court on account of her brother having been ruined and dethroned before her eyes.
But she did note the approach of Lord Fotios after both Gianna and Basilides found elsewhere to be. He didn’t appear to be moving in his direction for her, specifically, but it took everything in her bones not to let the secret she had been holding close to her heart out in that moment. Fotios was smart about his speaking with her, using his cup as a way to speak with her without anyone noticing how close they actually were. He was a master of positioning and prose and ensuring that no attention was brought to either of them.
“What miscalculation is that, my lord?” Xene asked absently before taking a slow, measured sip of her own wine once more. Her gaze was on the festivities that were slowly starting to ramp up once more now that Emilios had excused himself and Prince Achilleas and Princess Theodora were in a one on one tet a tet. Fotios continued speaking, and Xene listened as faithfully as she ever had. She hung onto each word, not knowing how long it would be before their next encounter. Things had wandered beyond the realm and confidant and confider.
It was his words that made it hard not to smile and give herself away. She wanted to pout at him, to bat her eyelashes in his direction, purposely keeping her lips pressed to the rim of her chalice. “You don’t like my gown, my lord?” she asked in a near whisper, “And here I thought you might be tripping over yourself at the sight. I’m disappointed that you haven’t faltered once,” Xene teased him in return, chewing on the inside of her cheek when he trailed his finger down along her skin.
Her heart sped up in her chest and she had to swallow the sharp feelings of desire she had been warding off for days since they had started to exchange letters. “Now who is cruel?” Xene breathed, glancing around to ensure that no one was watching them.
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Xene kept her gaze firmly on the new couple and Prince Emilios once the scene started to play out. She had only just caught the flight of the summer wine into Emilios’ face out of the corner of her eye, her blue gaze dragging fully to what was going on. The silence was deafening, which only added to Xene’s curiosity about what had happened between the three of them. What had Emilios done to turn the new princess so sour so quickly? It seemed such an odd step for her to take when she had only carried the Mikaelidas name for a few short moments.
She kinda of felt for her cousin, knowing that this situation likely wasn’t an easy one, nor was it one free of embarrassment. Everyone was watching, so there wasn’t even a moment to compose and collect themselves. Still lured by the sight, Xene took a careful sip of her wine, noting silently that many of her own companions flitted off in favor of other things. Other conversations and other people. That was natural in a setting like this. To mingle with other people. But Xene had found herself doing it less and less as of late, feeling more guarded against the court on account of her brother having been ruined and dethroned before her eyes.
But she did note the approach of Lord Fotios after both Gianna and Basilides found elsewhere to be. He didn’t appear to be moving in his direction for her, specifically, but it took everything in her bones not to let the secret she had been holding close to her heart out in that moment. Fotios was smart about his speaking with her, using his cup as a way to speak with her without anyone noticing how close they actually were. He was a master of positioning and prose and ensuring that no attention was brought to either of them.
“What miscalculation is that, my lord?” Xene asked absently before taking a slow, measured sip of her own wine once more. Her gaze was on the festivities that were slowly starting to ramp up once more now that Emilios had excused himself and Prince Achilleas and Princess Theodora were in a one on one tet a tet. Fotios continued speaking, and Xene listened as faithfully as she ever had. She hung onto each word, not knowing how long it would be before their next encounter. Things had wandered beyond the realm and confidant and confider.
It was his words that made it hard not to smile and give herself away. She wanted to pout at him, to bat her eyelashes in his direction, purposely keeping her lips pressed to the rim of her chalice. “You don’t like my gown, my lord?” she asked in a near whisper, “And here I thought you might be tripping over yourself at the sight. I’m disappointed that you haven’t faltered once,” Xene teased him in return, chewing on the inside of her cheek when he trailed his finger down along her skin.
Her heart sped up in her chest and she had to swallow the sharp feelings of desire she had been warding off for days since they had started to exchange letters. “Now who is cruel?” Xene breathed, glancing around to ensure that no one was watching them.
Xene kept her gaze firmly on the new couple and Prince Emilios once the scene started to play out. She had only just caught the flight of the summer wine into Emilios’ face out of the corner of her eye, her blue gaze dragging fully to what was going on. The silence was deafening, which only added to Xene’s curiosity about what had happened between the three of them. What had Emilios done to turn the new princess so sour so quickly? It seemed such an odd step for her to take when she had only carried the Mikaelidas name for a few short moments.
She kinda of felt for her cousin, knowing that this situation likely wasn’t an easy one, nor was it one free of embarrassment. Everyone was watching, so there wasn’t even a moment to compose and collect themselves. Still lured by the sight, Xene took a careful sip of her wine, noting silently that many of her own companions flitted off in favor of other things. Other conversations and other people. That was natural in a setting like this. To mingle with other people. But Xene had found herself doing it less and less as of late, feeling more guarded against the court on account of her brother having been ruined and dethroned before her eyes.
But she did note the approach of Lord Fotios after both Gianna and Basilides found elsewhere to be. He didn’t appear to be moving in his direction for her, specifically, but it took everything in her bones not to let the secret she had been holding close to her heart out in that moment. Fotios was smart about his speaking with her, using his cup as a way to speak with her without anyone noticing how close they actually were. He was a master of positioning and prose and ensuring that no attention was brought to either of them.
“What miscalculation is that, my lord?” Xene asked absently before taking a slow, measured sip of her own wine once more. Her gaze was on the festivities that were slowly starting to ramp up once more now that Emilios had excused himself and Prince Achilleas and Princess Theodora were in a one on one tet a tet. Fotios continued speaking, and Xene listened as faithfully as she ever had. She hung onto each word, not knowing how long it would be before their next encounter. Things had wandered beyond the realm and confidant and confider.
It was his words that made it hard not to smile and give herself away. She wanted to pout at him, to bat her eyelashes in his direction, purposely keeping her lips pressed to the rim of her chalice. “You don’t like my gown, my lord?” she asked in a near whisper, “And here I thought you might be tripping over yourself at the sight. I’m disappointed that you haven’t faltered once,” Xene teased him in return, chewing on the inside of her cheek when he trailed his finger down along her skin.
Her heart sped up in her chest and she had to swallow the sharp feelings of desire she had been warding off for days since they had started to exchange letters. “Now who is cruel?” Xene breathed, glancing around to ensure that no one was watching them.
Evangelina had excused herself from the princesses’ group and left the one person she’d pinned her hopes of stealing some alone time with, but she wasn’t going to fight for his attention. Her pride drew a line on begging him to notice her. Swallowing, she disappeared through the crowd under the pretense of searching for her brother. Evangelina’s polite smile never faltered as she weaved through the crowd, from the center of the crowd she worked her ways to the outskirts, smiling and saying a passing ‘hello’ to the various family connections. Few of them knew who she was so stopping to speak seemed pointless, she was just another Leventi face among the crowd.
Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of the disruption of the wedding party by none other than the bride, the groom, and… the groom’s brother. Her lips pursed in thought before she winced at the wine thrown in Lord Emilios’ face. Ducking her head she skirted a straight line now for the outskirts. The less she knew about whatever madness was going on between those three the happier she felt she’d be. She’d suspected for a while now, at least since the temple tour, that Lord Emilios was yet another captivated heart of her cousin’s. There was something almost bewitching about Theodora, everyone thought; so, why should be a surprise that Lord Emilios’ admiration be an astonishing surprise? The only surprise is that he’d choose to display his fascination with the bride at such an openly public event… in honor of the newly married couple. And that it would be Theo who caused a stir by throwing her wine. This seemed like a perfect time to make herself scarce.
On the outskirts of the party, Evangelina took another glass of wine from a passing tray and sipped on it as she studied the crowd. Was it too early to leave? Her presence wasn’t really needed, it hadn’t been needed most of the day and this was hardly the sort of event she found delight in. The chalice touched her lips and she took a long sip in thought. She needed to write Icarus a note and find out how this year’s foals were growing out and if there was anything special among them. Having been absent from Acharist for so many months she was feeling like she was losing touch with the day to day happenings with the horses.
Her eyes dropped to the liquid in the glass and she frowned, there more pressing matters for her to attend. She knew that but it didn’t mean that she’d not have rather been just about anywhere else doing just about anything else than seeing to those things. The thoughts came to a pause at the nudge on her shoulder, turning a little to look up at who’d nudged her. Her face lit up and she smiled a broad dimpled smile at him.
‘Find your brother?’ Dipping her head sheepishly, she looked to the ground before slanting her earthy brown eyes up at him from under the long lashes. Giving him an amused almost-smile, she replied, “No. I am afraid you’ve caught me woolgathering rather than searching for him.”
She searched his face and features for any signs, not that she expected to find any… Lord Gavriil didn’t give much away, but it didn’t stop her from searching the lines of his face or the glimmer in his eyes. Had he changed his mind about her? Or decided what he’d wanted? Afraid the questions would spill out of her eyes, she looked away but not really at anything in particular. Evangelina found though she couldn’t really focus on anything else, not with him standing there next to her. So she hazarded another look at him, an impish notion crossing her mind.
“Do you ever get that feeling you are forgetting something?” She caught her bottom lip and nibbled at it as she looked up at him innocently. “I’ve been feeling like that all day. As if I am missing something and I couldn’t quite put my finger on exactly what it was that I was missing.” Evangelina paused before adding, “I was just standing here thinking about it and realized what it was I was missing.” Taking a sip for courage as she slanted another look his direction.
Leaning her head in conspiratorially towards him, she spoke quietly to him, “I remembered I was in such a hurry this morning to get dressed… I didn’t put a thing on under this gown.” Straightening, she didn’t glance at him but smiled and shrugged, “Teach me to be in such a hurry.” She’d vowed at their last ride that she wasn’t going to press him for contact but a tiny, mischevious side of her couldn’t resist teasing him just a tiny bit.
“I was also wondering how long was appropriate to stay and be seen at your cousin’s wedding festival before you could leave.” She nibbled her bottom lip again, “The entire family has been in such an uproar about making sure that everything was perfect for this wedding, I hate to say this, but in all honestly, we’ve all worked and stressed so hard over the wedding that now it’s rather hard to enjoy it.” Looking up at him, she offered a small smile, “How are you enjoying yourself?”
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Evangelina had excused herself from the princesses’ group and left the one person she’d pinned her hopes of stealing some alone time with, but she wasn’t going to fight for his attention. Her pride drew a line on begging him to notice her. Swallowing, she disappeared through the crowd under the pretense of searching for her brother. Evangelina’s polite smile never faltered as she weaved through the crowd, from the center of the crowd she worked her ways to the outskirts, smiling and saying a passing ‘hello’ to the various family connections. Few of them knew who she was so stopping to speak seemed pointless, she was just another Leventi face among the crowd.
Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of the disruption of the wedding party by none other than the bride, the groom, and… the groom’s brother. Her lips pursed in thought before she winced at the wine thrown in Lord Emilios’ face. Ducking her head she skirted a straight line now for the outskirts. The less she knew about whatever madness was going on between those three the happier she felt she’d be. She’d suspected for a while now, at least since the temple tour, that Lord Emilios was yet another captivated heart of her cousin’s. There was something almost bewitching about Theodora, everyone thought; so, why should be a surprise that Lord Emilios’ admiration be an astonishing surprise? The only surprise is that he’d choose to display his fascination with the bride at such an openly public event… in honor of the newly married couple. And that it would be Theo who caused a stir by throwing her wine. This seemed like a perfect time to make herself scarce.
On the outskirts of the party, Evangelina took another glass of wine from a passing tray and sipped on it as she studied the crowd. Was it too early to leave? Her presence wasn’t really needed, it hadn’t been needed most of the day and this was hardly the sort of event she found delight in. The chalice touched her lips and she took a long sip in thought. She needed to write Icarus a note and find out how this year’s foals were growing out and if there was anything special among them. Having been absent from Acharist for so many months she was feeling like she was losing touch with the day to day happenings with the horses.
Her eyes dropped to the liquid in the glass and she frowned, there more pressing matters for her to attend. She knew that but it didn’t mean that she’d not have rather been just about anywhere else doing just about anything else than seeing to those things. The thoughts came to a pause at the nudge on her shoulder, turning a little to look up at who’d nudged her. Her face lit up and she smiled a broad dimpled smile at him.
‘Find your brother?’ Dipping her head sheepishly, she looked to the ground before slanting her earthy brown eyes up at him from under the long lashes. Giving him an amused almost-smile, she replied, “No. I am afraid you’ve caught me woolgathering rather than searching for him.”
She searched his face and features for any signs, not that she expected to find any… Lord Gavriil didn’t give much away, but it didn’t stop her from searching the lines of his face or the glimmer in his eyes. Had he changed his mind about her? Or decided what he’d wanted? Afraid the questions would spill out of her eyes, she looked away but not really at anything in particular. Evangelina found though she couldn’t really focus on anything else, not with him standing there next to her. So she hazarded another look at him, an impish notion crossing her mind.
“Do you ever get that feeling you are forgetting something?” She caught her bottom lip and nibbled at it as she looked up at him innocently. “I’ve been feeling like that all day. As if I am missing something and I couldn’t quite put my finger on exactly what it was that I was missing.” Evangelina paused before adding, “I was just standing here thinking about it and realized what it was I was missing.” Taking a sip for courage as she slanted another look his direction.
Leaning her head in conspiratorially towards him, she spoke quietly to him, “I remembered I was in such a hurry this morning to get dressed… I didn’t put a thing on under this gown.” Straightening, she didn’t glance at him but smiled and shrugged, “Teach me to be in such a hurry.” She’d vowed at their last ride that she wasn’t going to press him for contact but a tiny, mischevious side of her couldn’t resist teasing him just a tiny bit.
“I was also wondering how long was appropriate to stay and be seen at your cousin’s wedding festival before you could leave.” She nibbled her bottom lip again, “The entire family has been in such an uproar about making sure that everything was perfect for this wedding, I hate to say this, but in all honestly, we’ve all worked and stressed so hard over the wedding that now it’s rather hard to enjoy it.” Looking up at him, she offered a small smile, “How are you enjoying yourself?”
Evangelina had excused herself from the princesses’ group and left the one person she’d pinned her hopes of stealing some alone time with, but she wasn’t going to fight for his attention. Her pride drew a line on begging him to notice her. Swallowing, she disappeared through the crowd under the pretense of searching for her brother. Evangelina’s polite smile never faltered as she weaved through the crowd, from the center of the crowd she worked her ways to the outskirts, smiling and saying a passing ‘hello’ to the various family connections. Few of them knew who she was so stopping to speak seemed pointless, she was just another Leventi face among the crowd.
Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of the disruption of the wedding party by none other than the bride, the groom, and… the groom’s brother. Her lips pursed in thought before she winced at the wine thrown in Lord Emilios’ face. Ducking her head she skirted a straight line now for the outskirts. The less she knew about whatever madness was going on between those three the happier she felt she’d be. She’d suspected for a while now, at least since the temple tour, that Lord Emilios was yet another captivated heart of her cousin’s. There was something almost bewitching about Theodora, everyone thought; so, why should be a surprise that Lord Emilios’ admiration be an astonishing surprise? The only surprise is that he’d choose to display his fascination with the bride at such an openly public event… in honor of the newly married couple. And that it would be Theo who caused a stir by throwing her wine. This seemed like a perfect time to make herself scarce.
On the outskirts of the party, Evangelina took another glass of wine from a passing tray and sipped on it as she studied the crowd. Was it too early to leave? Her presence wasn’t really needed, it hadn’t been needed most of the day and this was hardly the sort of event she found delight in. The chalice touched her lips and she took a long sip in thought. She needed to write Icarus a note and find out how this year’s foals were growing out and if there was anything special among them. Having been absent from Acharist for so many months she was feeling like she was losing touch with the day to day happenings with the horses.
Her eyes dropped to the liquid in the glass and she frowned, there more pressing matters for her to attend. She knew that but it didn’t mean that she’d not have rather been just about anywhere else doing just about anything else than seeing to those things. The thoughts came to a pause at the nudge on her shoulder, turning a little to look up at who’d nudged her. Her face lit up and she smiled a broad dimpled smile at him.
‘Find your brother?’ Dipping her head sheepishly, she looked to the ground before slanting her earthy brown eyes up at him from under the long lashes. Giving him an amused almost-smile, she replied, “No. I am afraid you’ve caught me woolgathering rather than searching for him.”
She searched his face and features for any signs, not that she expected to find any… Lord Gavriil didn’t give much away, but it didn’t stop her from searching the lines of his face or the glimmer in his eyes. Had he changed his mind about her? Or decided what he’d wanted? Afraid the questions would spill out of her eyes, she looked away but not really at anything in particular. Evangelina found though she couldn’t really focus on anything else, not with him standing there next to her. So she hazarded another look at him, an impish notion crossing her mind.
“Do you ever get that feeling you are forgetting something?” She caught her bottom lip and nibbled at it as she looked up at him innocently. “I’ve been feeling like that all day. As if I am missing something and I couldn’t quite put my finger on exactly what it was that I was missing.” Evangelina paused before adding, “I was just standing here thinking about it and realized what it was I was missing.” Taking a sip for courage as she slanted another look his direction.
Leaning her head in conspiratorially towards him, she spoke quietly to him, “I remembered I was in such a hurry this morning to get dressed… I didn’t put a thing on under this gown.” Straightening, she didn’t glance at him but smiled and shrugged, “Teach me to be in such a hurry.” She’d vowed at their last ride that she wasn’t going to press him for contact but a tiny, mischevious side of her couldn’t resist teasing him just a tiny bit.
“I was also wondering how long was appropriate to stay and be seen at your cousin’s wedding festival before you could leave.” She nibbled her bottom lip again, “The entire family has been in such an uproar about making sure that everything was perfect for this wedding, I hate to say this, but in all honestly, we’ve all worked and stressed so hard over the wedding that now it’s rather hard to enjoy it.” Looking up at him, she offered a small smile, “How are you enjoying yourself?”
Luckily for his sons, Theodora was quick to the mark, and it pleased Irakles greatly to see that the young lady who had just entered his family as his new daughter-in-law was well versed in handling crowds in terms of diffusing awkward situations as they arose, much like how Meena could smoothly handle societal interactions without the over-the-top niceness he’d seen Myrto's methods use. Half the time, Irakles blamed his wife for the soft ways that Achilleas and Emilios had adopted and, instead, much preferred the tough manner that Tasia seemed to have inherited from her mother when it came to managing people.
Chuckling along with the crowds as they responded to Theodora's light attempt of turning the situation humorous, the man winced again as he felt yet another twinge in the area of his chest, but shook off Meena's concerned face. "Perhaps the tincture you've prepared for me before?" he murmured as a suggestion to his mistress. The woman was quick to nod, and pressed a gentle kiss to his chin before she hurried off to the old quarters Irakles had resided in before they moved to the palace, where a porcelain container was kept, full of a mixture of herbs and roots, prescribed by the royal physician, which was meant to ease what seemed to be increasing cases of heartburn.
Taking a deep breathe and discreetly rubbing his chest to ease the sensation, whilst Meena was gone, Irakles turned to observe the rest of the crowds to ensure the last dredges of awkwardness that came from the debacle had dissipated.
Letting his eyes wander, they stopped briefly as he noticed Fotios speaking to his niece, especially the odd expression that Xene wore, one that definitely was not befitting of the situation she supposedly watched. When the former princess looked around in a manner that Irakles was sure only served to check her surroundings, the man parked his half-finished chalice of wine on a tray carried by a roaming servant, before making his way to where Fotios and Xene stood.
There, he announced his arrival with a low chuckle as he clasped a hand over Fotios's shoulder, and granted his friend a large smile. Briefly, his gaze flickered to check on Xene, before he spoke, "Has my niece been a gracious hostess, my friend?" he asked, a slight lilt underlining his tone that was an obvious warning to Xene. He did not trust his niece, especially with how she was so supposedly close to Stephanos. That Xene knew nothing of Stephanos's departure reeked of lies to Irakles, but he would not press the matter without concrete proof. As such, he only watched Xene and Gianna with an eagle eye as the man waited for Fotios's response, the way he stared at Xene obviously intending for her to know her place as a female that was no longer considered a princess but a mere ward of his, now that her brothers and father were both gone.
His friend’s reply was satisfactory, of course, but it was barely heard as the ringing in Irakles’s ears seemed to grow louder with each passing second. After his many years spent in the battlefield, as he got older, the King had been plagued with many ailments, from muscle aches to the occasional twinge in the joints and difficulty breathing. In recent months, they seemed to have gotten worse, but he had simply written them off as a side effect of the stress he’s had from the copious amount of planning he’s had to do, and just asked the royal physician to up the dosage of his tonic, the very tonic he had asked Meena to go fetch just moments earlier.
That his vision swam in front of him now though, was oddly disconcerting, for Irakles had always had great vision and dexterity; a necessity for survival on a battlefield. The fingers upon his chest subconsciously splayed upon where his heart seemed to be pounding increasingly faster, squeezing in the left area of his chest cavity, making it harder and harder to draw his breath. Fotios’s question came like a haze, as if it was in the background, but even as Irakles opened his mouth to try and answer, pressure in his jawline and shortness of breath made any syllable he wanted to utter come out as a croak, as his knees wobbled and fell to the ground in a low and foreboding thud, jaw agape with his lips turning a tinge of blue.
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Luckily for his sons, Theodora was quick to the mark, and it pleased Irakles greatly to see that the young lady who had just entered his family as his new daughter-in-law was well versed in handling crowds in terms of diffusing awkward situations as they arose, much like how Meena could smoothly handle societal interactions without the over-the-top niceness he’d seen Myrto's methods use. Half the time, Irakles blamed his wife for the soft ways that Achilleas and Emilios had adopted and, instead, much preferred the tough manner that Tasia seemed to have inherited from her mother when it came to managing people.
Chuckling along with the crowds as they responded to Theodora's light attempt of turning the situation humorous, the man winced again as he felt yet another twinge in the area of his chest, but shook off Meena's concerned face. "Perhaps the tincture you've prepared for me before?" he murmured as a suggestion to his mistress. The woman was quick to nod, and pressed a gentle kiss to his chin before she hurried off to the old quarters Irakles had resided in before they moved to the palace, where a porcelain container was kept, full of a mixture of herbs and roots, prescribed by the royal physician, which was meant to ease what seemed to be increasing cases of heartburn.
Taking a deep breathe and discreetly rubbing his chest to ease the sensation, whilst Meena was gone, Irakles turned to observe the rest of the crowds to ensure the last dredges of awkwardness that came from the debacle had dissipated.
Letting his eyes wander, they stopped briefly as he noticed Fotios speaking to his niece, especially the odd expression that Xene wore, one that definitely was not befitting of the situation she supposedly watched. When the former princess looked around in a manner that Irakles was sure only served to check her surroundings, the man parked his half-finished chalice of wine on a tray carried by a roaming servant, before making his way to where Fotios and Xene stood.
There, he announced his arrival with a low chuckle as he clasped a hand over Fotios's shoulder, and granted his friend a large smile. Briefly, his gaze flickered to check on Xene, before he spoke, "Has my niece been a gracious hostess, my friend?" he asked, a slight lilt underlining his tone that was an obvious warning to Xene. He did not trust his niece, especially with how she was so supposedly close to Stephanos. That Xene knew nothing of Stephanos's departure reeked of lies to Irakles, but he would not press the matter without concrete proof. As such, he only watched Xene and Gianna with an eagle eye as the man waited for Fotios's response, the way he stared at Xene obviously intending for her to know her place as a female that was no longer considered a princess but a mere ward of his, now that her brothers and father were both gone.
His friend’s reply was satisfactory, of course, but it was barely heard as the ringing in Irakles’s ears seemed to grow louder with each passing second. After his many years spent in the battlefield, as he got older, the King had been plagued with many ailments, from muscle aches to the occasional twinge in the joints and difficulty breathing. In recent months, they seemed to have gotten worse, but he had simply written them off as a side effect of the stress he’s had from the copious amount of planning he’s had to do, and just asked the royal physician to up the dosage of his tonic, the very tonic he had asked Meena to go fetch just moments earlier.
That his vision swam in front of him now though, was oddly disconcerting, for Irakles had always had great vision and dexterity; a necessity for survival on a battlefield. The fingers upon his chest subconsciously splayed upon where his heart seemed to be pounding increasingly faster, squeezing in the left area of his chest cavity, making it harder and harder to draw his breath. Fotios’s question came like a haze, as if it was in the background, but even as Irakles opened his mouth to try and answer, pressure in his jawline and shortness of breath made any syllable he wanted to utter come out as a croak, as his knees wobbled and fell to the ground in a low and foreboding thud, jaw agape with his lips turning a tinge of blue.
Luckily for his sons, Theodora was quick to the mark, and it pleased Irakles greatly to see that the young lady who had just entered his family as his new daughter-in-law was well versed in handling crowds in terms of diffusing awkward situations as they arose, much like how Meena could smoothly handle societal interactions without the over-the-top niceness he’d seen Myrto's methods use. Half the time, Irakles blamed his wife for the soft ways that Achilleas and Emilios had adopted and, instead, much preferred the tough manner that Tasia seemed to have inherited from her mother when it came to managing people.
Chuckling along with the crowds as they responded to Theodora's light attempt of turning the situation humorous, the man winced again as he felt yet another twinge in the area of his chest, but shook off Meena's concerned face. "Perhaps the tincture you've prepared for me before?" he murmured as a suggestion to his mistress. The woman was quick to nod, and pressed a gentle kiss to his chin before she hurried off to the old quarters Irakles had resided in before they moved to the palace, where a porcelain container was kept, full of a mixture of herbs and roots, prescribed by the royal physician, which was meant to ease what seemed to be increasing cases of heartburn.
Taking a deep breathe and discreetly rubbing his chest to ease the sensation, whilst Meena was gone, Irakles turned to observe the rest of the crowds to ensure the last dredges of awkwardness that came from the debacle had dissipated.
Letting his eyes wander, they stopped briefly as he noticed Fotios speaking to his niece, especially the odd expression that Xene wore, one that definitely was not befitting of the situation she supposedly watched. When the former princess looked around in a manner that Irakles was sure only served to check her surroundings, the man parked his half-finished chalice of wine on a tray carried by a roaming servant, before making his way to where Fotios and Xene stood.
There, he announced his arrival with a low chuckle as he clasped a hand over Fotios's shoulder, and granted his friend a large smile. Briefly, his gaze flickered to check on Xene, before he spoke, "Has my niece been a gracious hostess, my friend?" he asked, a slight lilt underlining his tone that was an obvious warning to Xene. He did not trust his niece, especially with how she was so supposedly close to Stephanos. That Xene knew nothing of Stephanos's departure reeked of lies to Irakles, but he would not press the matter without concrete proof. As such, he only watched Xene and Gianna with an eagle eye as the man waited for Fotios's response, the way he stared at Xene obviously intending for her to know her place as a female that was no longer considered a princess but a mere ward of his, now that her brothers and father were both gone.
His friend’s reply was satisfactory, of course, but it was barely heard as the ringing in Irakles’s ears seemed to grow louder with each passing second. After his many years spent in the battlefield, as he got older, the King had been plagued with many ailments, from muscle aches to the occasional twinge in the joints and difficulty breathing. In recent months, they seemed to have gotten worse, but he had simply written them off as a side effect of the stress he’s had from the copious amount of planning he’s had to do, and just asked the royal physician to up the dosage of his tonic, the very tonic he had asked Meena to go fetch just moments earlier.
That his vision swam in front of him now though, was oddly disconcerting, for Irakles had always had great vision and dexterity; a necessity for survival on a battlefield. The fingers upon his chest subconsciously splayed upon where his heart seemed to be pounding increasingly faster, squeezing in the left area of his chest cavity, making it harder and harder to draw his breath. Fotios’s question came like a haze, as if it was in the background, but even as Irakles opened his mouth to try and answer, pressure in his jawline and shortness of breath made any syllable he wanted to utter come out as a croak, as his knees wobbled and fell to the ground in a low and foreboding thud, jaw agape with his lips turning a tinge of blue.
Forced to break his touch from the young girl’s skin at the approach of her uncle, Fotios laughed softly beneath his breath at her comments regarding her dress and yet was careful to ensure that his lips were not in line to the new King of Taengea’s sight and would not, therefore give them away as he spoke his last private words with a level of intimacy they had not yet shared.
“Cruel is the last thing I wish to be with you, princess.” He commented, his breath whispering over her shoulder he turned carefully in preparation to greet the man approaching them. “Firm, slow, deliberate… and perhaps a little rough.” His eyes flashed. “But never cruel.”
His lips curled in a sensual show of desire that only she could see, before his head realigned with his body and his gaze turned to the man who approached, calm as anything and his cup ready to take its position of shadow and shield over his mouth.
“But of course, Your Majesty.” Fotios commented without missing a step, his tone becoming formal once more. “I find myself highly unsatisfied with the event in a few ways but your niece has been a wonder of a hostess and promised me much in the way of rectification.” His voice was soft and easy - as if he were merely insinuating that the snacks provided had been too cold or the wine left to breathe for slightly too long before serving. “I have every faith in the princess’ assurances of satisfaction.”
When he noted the man looking a little uncomfortable and reaching to place a few fingertips to his chest, Fotios frowned, rare concern flooding his face as he recognised the gesture from others in similar weeks. Not wishing to draw attention to the weakness, Fotios looked around the man in the hopes of seeing Meena at hand but with her absence he simply sought confirmation of her business.
“Is Meena seeing to a tonic, Your Majesty?” He asked with a tone of genuine sympathy. He knew the aches and pains that came with growing older and had with his friends’ history on battlefields knew him more prone to such things than he. They came about each time the man was overly stressed but always seemed to diminish again as peaceful calm settled upon the capitol.
His soft smile and polite inquiry, phrased carefully to avoid panic and to not risk suggesting weakness in the new King, died upon his lips as Fotios’ expression stilled at the look on Irakles’ face.
Something was most certainly not right.
“Irakles?” The single word; an entreaty that broke etiquette in order to mutter a concerned and hushed question to his friend, was hidden by the hubbub of the gathering but should have been loud enough for his friend at least to hear. Instead, the King appeared not to notice voice much less anything else, his hand spreading across his chest in a manner that had Fotios frowning sharply. His voice was harsher as he repeated the man’s name and, as if the sound of the word were a blade cutting the Lord of Mikaelidas’ strings of control, his entirely body collapsed.
Fotios darted forwards but, whilst strong and wirey, he did not have the bulk required to adjust his centre of gravity and secure a man of Irakles’ size. Instead, his only option was to encourage the King to the ground, his words leaving him in a calming babble that he hoped broke through whatever fit or swoon the damn man had fallen into.
“Irakles…? Irakles, breathe deep. Come on, brother.” He gave a few sharp taps of his palm to the side of the King’s face, heedless of any criminal offence he could bring upon himself by striking the monarch. The slaps weren’t hard but they were rough enough to try and keep his eyes open and focused.
Fotios watched in shock, as the man’s lips started to turn blue, yet he seemed still able to breathe in a croaking sort of manner. His vast knowledge of studies upon the human body told Fotios that such a symptom could only be the stopping of the heart, and yet his lack of any physician experience meant he had no understanding of how to stop it.
“Someone call a physician!” Fotios cried out, drawing the attention of anyone who had not already looked their way. His voice as angular and commanding and far more obtrusive to the atmosphere than he had ever spoken before. And yet, when your closest - and most rare - friend lay dying, there was little a man cared for his reputation...
This character is currently a work in progress.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Forced to break his touch from the young girl’s skin at the approach of her uncle, Fotios laughed softly beneath his breath at her comments regarding her dress and yet was careful to ensure that his lips were not in line to the new King of Taengea’s sight and would not, therefore give them away as he spoke his last private words with a level of intimacy they had not yet shared.
“Cruel is the last thing I wish to be with you, princess.” He commented, his breath whispering over her shoulder he turned carefully in preparation to greet the man approaching them. “Firm, slow, deliberate… and perhaps a little rough.” His eyes flashed. “But never cruel.”
His lips curled in a sensual show of desire that only she could see, before his head realigned with his body and his gaze turned to the man who approached, calm as anything and his cup ready to take its position of shadow and shield over his mouth.
“But of course, Your Majesty.” Fotios commented without missing a step, his tone becoming formal once more. “I find myself highly unsatisfied with the event in a few ways but your niece has been a wonder of a hostess and promised me much in the way of rectification.” His voice was soft and easy - as if he were merely insinuating that the snacks provided had been too cold or the wine left to breathe for slightly too long before serving. “I have every faith in the princess’ assurances of satisfaction.”
When he noted the man looking a little uncomfortable and reaching to place a few fingertips to his chest, Fotios frowned, rare concern flooding his face as he recognised the gesture from others in similar weeks. Not wishing to draw attention to the weakness, Fotios looked around the man in the hopes of seeing Meena at hand but with her absence he simply sought confirmation of her business.
“Is Meena seeing to a tonic, Your Majesty?” He asked with a tone of genuine sympathy. He knew the aches and pains that came with growing older and had with his friends’ history on battlefields knew him more prone to such things than he. They came about each time the man was overly stressed but always seemed to diminish again as peaceful calm settled upon the capitol.
His soft smile and polite inquiry, phrased carefully to avoid panic and to not risk suggesting weakness in the new King, died upon his lips as Fotios’ expression stilled at the look on Irakles’ face.
Something was most certainly not right.
“Irakles?” The single word; an entreaty that broke etiquette in order to mutter a concerned and hushed question to his friend, was hidden by the hubbub of the gathering but should have been loud enough for his friend at least to hear. Instead, the King appeared not to notice voice much less anything else, his hand spreading across his chest in a manner that had Fotios frowning sharply. His voice was harsher as he repeated the man’s name and, as if the sound of the word were a blade cutting the Lord of Mikaelidas’ strings of control, his entirely body collapsed.
Fotios darted forwards but, whilst strong and wirey, he did not have the bulk required to adjust his centre of gravity and secure a man of Irakles’ size. Instead, his only option was to encourage the King to the ground, his words leaving him in a calming babble that he hoped broke through whatever fit or swoon the damn man had fallen into.
“Irakles…? Irakles, breathe deep. Come on, brother.” He gave a few sharp taps of his palm to the side of the King’s face, heedless of any criminal offence he could bring upon himself by striking the monarch. The slaps weren’t hard but they were rough enough to try and keep his eyes open and focused.
Fotios watched in shock, as the man’s lips started to turn blue, yet he seemed still able to breathe in a croaking sort of manner. His vast knowledge of studies upon the human body told Fotios that such a symptom could only be the stopping of the heart, and yet his lack of any physician experience meant he had no understanding of how to stop it.
“Someone call a physician!” Fotios cried out, drawing the attention of anyone who had not already looked their way. His voice as angular and commanding and far more obtrusive to the atmosphere than he had ever spoken before. And yet, when your closest - and most rare - friend lay dying, there was little a man cared for his reputation...
Forced to break his touch from the young girl’s skin at the approach of her uncle, Fotios laughed softly beneath his breath at her comments regarding her dress and yet was careful to ensure that his lips were not in line to the new King of Taengea’s sight and would not, therefore give them away as he spoke his last private words with a level of intimacy they had not yet shared.
“Cruel is the last thing I wish to be with you, princess.” He commented, his breath whispering over her shoulder he turned carefully in preparation to greet the man approaching them. “Firm, slow, deliberate… and perhaps a little rough.” His eyes flashed. “But never cruel.”
His lips curled in a sensual show of desire that only she could see, before his head realigned with his body and his gaze turned to the man who approached, calm as anything and his cup ready to take its position of shadow and shield over his mouth.
“But of course, Your Majesty.” Fotios commented without missing a step, his tone becoming formal once more. “I find myself highly unsatisfied with the event in a few ways but your niece has been a wonder of a hostess and promised me much in the way of rectification.” His voice was soft and easy - as if he were merely insinuating that the snacks provided had been too cold or the wine left to breathe for slightly too long before serving. “I have every faith in the princess’ assurances of satisfaction.”
When he noted the man looking a little uncomfortable and reaching to place a few fingertips to his chest, Fotios frowned, rare concern flooding his face as he recognised the gesture from others in similar weeks. Not wishing to draw attention to the weakness, Fotios looked around the man in the hopes of seeing Meena at hand but with her absence he simply sought confirmation of her business.
“Is Meena seeing to a tonic, Your Majesty?” He asked with a tone of genuine sympathy. He knew the aches and pains that came with growing older and had with his friends’ history on battlefields knew him more prone to such things than he. They came about each time the man was overly stressed but always seemed to diminish again as peaceful calm settled upon the capitol.
His soft smile and polite inquiry, phrased carefully to avoid panic and to not risk suggesting weakness in the new King, died upon his lips as Fotios’ expression stilled at the look on Irakles’ face.
Something was most certainly not right.
“Irakles?” The single word; an entreaty that broke etiquette in order to mutter a concerned and hushed question to his friend, was hidden by the hubbub of the gathering but should have been loud enough for his friend at least to hear. Instead, the King appeared not to notice voice much less anything else, his hand spreading across his chest in a manner that had Fotios frowning sharply. His voice was harsher as he repeated the man’s name and, as if the sound of the word were a blade cutting the Lord of Mikaelidas’ strings of control, his entirely body collapsed.
Fotios darted forwards but, whilst strong and wirey, he did not have the bulk required to adjust his centre of gravity and secure a man of Irakles’ size. Instead, his only option was to encourage the King to the ground, his words leaving him in a calming babble that he hoped broke through whatever fit or swoon the damn man had fallen into.
“Irakles…? Irakles, breathe deep. Come on, brother.” He gave a few sharp taps of his palm to the side of the King’s face, heedless of any criminal offence he could bring upon himself by striking the monarch. The slaps weren’t hard but they were rough enough to try and keep his eyes open and focused.
Fotios watched in shock, as the man’s lips started to turn blue, yet he seemed still able to breathe in a croaking sort of manner. His vast knowledge of studies upon the human body told Fotios that such a symptom could only be the stopping of the heart, and yet his lack of any physician experience meant he had no understanding of how to stop it.
“Someone call a physician!” Fotios cried out, drawing the attention of anyone who had not already looked their way. His voice as angular and commanding and far more obtrusive to the atmosphere than he had ever spoken before. And yet, when your closest - and most rare - friend lay dying, there was little a man cared for his reputation...
It was hard for Achilleas to find hilarity in the situation as Emilios seemed wont to do. He was all too aware of the attention that such an act had drawn, and he did not have to turn his head to know that his father’s gaze would be resting upon them, could imagine the displeasure in his expression at the scene. Achilleas twisted his upper body and looked toward the musicians with a loaded glance so soon enough there music at least to detract from the awkward silence that had descended. He turned back to Emilios and Theo as the former began to speak.
The groom looked somewhat doubtful at his brother’s explanation, not wanting to believe that the man would be so foolish. His younger brother was cut of a different cloth from him entirely, lighter of spirit, a great pursuer of pleasure it was true. But Achilleas knew him better than the playboy he liked to act the part of, and was a little surprised that Emilios would be so oafish and clumsy, today of all days. His gaze flickered between the two of them once more before returning to the only one who had volunteered an explanation thus far.
He looked at the man searchingly then, trying to see beyond the laughter for his brother had seemed out of sorts, quiet already, and Achilleas sighed a little as the man in question excused himself. He thought perhaps he had neglected Emilios, who would no doubt be feeling the absence of their cousin keenly. They had not spoken really since Stephanos and Olympia had fled, and he felt as if he should have made time, made certain his brother was not taking it too hard. For a moment longer he watched the retreating back of his younger sibling, before he turned his attention back to Theodora, a furrow of concern sketched across his brow.
She was flushed, dark eyes wet with the promise of tears and would not hold his gaze, a fact that irked him a little and he cast his gaze about them, fending off any interested eyes with a rather fearsome glare. He stilled a moment as he met the uncompromising regard of his father, looking just as Achilleas had imagined he would. What did he expect him to do? It was not him that had caused the ruckus Achilleas turned back to his bride, focusing instead on doing what he could to smooth the situation over. Let Irakles take it up with Emilios if he so wished. For Theo, there was a faint smile at her attempt at humour and Achilleas gave a minute shake of his head. “My brother can be...indelicate sometimes. I’m sure he meant no offence.” He tried to explain for Emilios, not wishing for there to be lingering discord between his bride and his brother, but Theodora assured him at once that she left no blame with the younger Mikaelidas Prince, and Achilleas watched her as she sought to add her own reasoning.
If he had doubts about what exactly had transpired to cause such a vivid reaction, he forgot them in the face of his wife’s worry, at the tremble in her voice that threatened tears again. He drew in a breath and placed one of his hands atop her own,keen to avoid any such further drama. “He’s had much worse I am sure. And Emilios is not one to hold grudges.” Achilleas tried to reassure Theo, and he shook his head again, just wanting to sweep away her discontent as quickly as he was able. He was taken back to her hysteria the night before the Egyptian reception, and remembered how awkward he had felt then, ill-prepared to navigate the extremes of her upset. Let it not devolve into similar again.
“It is already done.” he said swiftly in her request for forgiveness, meeting the glossy gaze that she tipped up toward him. “Think on it no more now” Some part of it was placating, he didn’t want her to cry and add yet more fuel to the gossip’s fires, but Achilleas could admit it was not easy to hold on to any disaffection when she was so clearly distressed. He would speak to Emilios later, perhaps. There was still that niggle of concern for his younger brother.
With a smile that swept away at least some of the tension that had crept into his features at the onset of this little drama, he opened his mouth to say more, but it was a new murmur from somewhere behind them that had the Prince turn his head, and what he saw had any such words fade to nothing.
He watched the Lord Fotios lean down, over something, someone. on the ground, and it took a moment for him to accept the truth that he knew the gold thread trimmed chiton, and he turned back to Theodora, meeting her gaze for a panicked, wide eyed moment before he was pulling her hand away from where it rested upon his chest, the “..my father..” almost lost because he was turning and moving.
Achilleas didn’t give much thought for those who might have been foolish enough not to move out of his way, using the breadth of his shoulders to full effect as he shoved his way through to where Fotios was bent over the prone form of the King, of his father. The call for a physician sounded somehow far away even though he had crashed to his knees right next to the Leventi Head of House.
“What happened?!” The son looked over his father, the ghastly blue tone to his lips, the hand splayed against his chest. For the space of a breath or two, breaths that were conspicuously absent in the fallen monarch, Achilleas’ hands hovered uselessly, uncertain as to what he could do, how he could force some life back into the too still form of the man before him.
After a moment, he’d pushed aside Irakles’ hand from his chest, placed his own palm flat against the barrel chest of the man who had seemed somehow invincible to him for all of his life. There was no steady thrum of life as there should be, and all Achilleas could think of was when a muscle seized with a cramp, locked up. Was this the same? He had seen it done once after a boy had near drowned and been pulled from the water. He had been blue faced too, and his hand had formed a fist and landed with a thump on his father’s chest in the time it took him to dredge the memory from the recesses of his mind.
Once, twice, the powerful fist of the crown prince descended. The body beneath jarred with the impact, but there was nothing, no spluttering of life or choking breath. “He’s not breathing” There was a desperation, because Achilleas was no physician, he didn’t know what they were supposed to do. His eyes, wide with panic, scanned the faces of those closest, Fotios and Xene, looking for someone to confirm that he was not making things worse. “Where is the physician?” And then he realised who wasn’t there. “Where is my brother?!”
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It was hard for Achilleas to find hilarity in the situation as Emilios seemed wont to do. He was all too aware of the attention that such an act had drawn, and he did not have to turn his head to know that his father’s gaze would be resting upon them, could imagine the displeasure in his expression at the scene. Achilleas twisted his upper body and looked toward the musicians with a loaded glance so soon enough there music at least to detract from the awkward silence that had descended. He turned back to Emilios and Theo as the former began to speak.
The groom looked somewhat doubtful at his brother’s explanation, not wanting to believe that the man would be so foolish. His younger brother was cut of a different cloth from him entirely, lighter of spirit, a great pursuer of pleasure it was true. But Achilleas knew him better than the playboy he liked to act the part of, and was a little surprised that Emilios would be so oafish and clumsy, today of all days. His gaze flickered between the two of them once more before returning to the only one who had volunteered an explanation thus far.
He looked at the man searchingly then, trying to see beyond the laughter for his brother had seemed out of sorts, quiet already, and Achilleas sighed a little as the man in question excused himself. He thought perhaps he had neglected Emilios, who would no doubt be feeling the absence of their cousin keenly. They had not spoken really since Stephanos and Olympia had fled, and he felt as if he should have made time, made certain his brother was not taking it too hard. For a moment longer he watched the retreating back of his younger sibling, before he turned his attention back to Theodora, a furrow of concern sketched across his brow.
She was flushed, dark eyes wet with the promise of tears and would not hold his gaze, a fact that irked him a little and he cast his gaze about them, fending off any interested eyes with a rather fearsome glare. He stilled a moment as he met the uncompromising regard of his father, looking just as Achilleas had imagined he would. What did he expect him to do? It was not him that had caused the ruckus Achilleas turned back to his bride, focusing instead on doing what he could to smooth the situation over. Let Irakles take it up with Emilios if he so wished. For Theo, there was a faint smile at her attempt at humour and Achilleas gave a minute shake of his head. “My brother can be...indelicate sometimes. I’m sure he meant no offence.” He tried to explain for Emilios, not wishing for there to be lingering discord between his bride and his brother, but Theodora assured him at once that she left no blame with the younger Mikaelidas Prince, and Achilleas watched her as she sought to add her own reasoning.
If he had doubts about what exactly had transpired to cause such a vivid reaction, he forgot them in the face of his wife’s worry, at the tremble in her voice that threatened tears again. He drew in a breath and placed one of his hands atop her own,keen to avoid any such further drama. “He’s had much worse I am sure. And Emilios is not one to hold grudges.” Achilleas tried to reassure Theo, and he shook his head again, just wanting to sweep away her discontent as quickly as he was able. He was taken back to her hysteria the night before the Egyptian reception, and remembered how awkward he had felt then, ill-prepared to navigate the extremes of her upset. Let it not devolve into similar again.
“It is already done.” he said swiftly in her request for forgiveness, meeting the glossy gaze that she tipped up toward him. “Think on it no more now” Some part of it was placating, he didn’t want her to cry and add yet more fuel to the gossip’s fires, but Achilleas could admit it was not easy to hold on to any disaffection when she was so clearly distressed. He would speak to Emilios later, perhaps. There was still that niggle of concern for his younger brother.
With a smile that swept away at least some of the tension that had crept into his features at the onset of this little drama, he opened his mouth to say more, but it was a new murmur from somewhere behind them that had the Prince turn his head, and what he saw had any such words fade to nothing.
He watched the Lord Fotios lean down, over something, someone. on the ground, and it took a moment for him to accept the truth that he knew the gold thread trimmed chiton, and he turned back to Theodora, meeting her gaze for a panicked, wide eyed moment before he was pulling her hand away from where it rested upon his chest, the “..my father..” almost lost because he was turning and moving.
Achilleas didn’t give much thought for those who might have been foolish enough not to move out of his way, using the breadth of his shoulders to full effect as he shoved his way through to where Fotios was bent over the prone form of the King, of his father. The call for a physician sounded somehow far away even though he had crashed to his knees right next to the Leventi Head of House.
“What happened?!” The son looked over his father, the ghastly blue tone to his lips, the hand splayed against his chest. For the space of a breath or two, breaths that were conspicuously absent in the fallen monarch, Achilleas’ hands hovered uselessly, uncertain as to what he could do, how he could force some life back into the too still form of the man before him.
After a moment, he’d pushed aside Irakles’ hand from his chest, placed his own palm flat against the barrel chest of the man who had seemed somehow invincible to him for all of his life. There was no steady thrum of life as there should be, and all Achilleas could think of was when a muscle seized with a cramp, locked up. Was this the same? He had seen it done once after a boy had near drowned and been pulled from the water. He had been blue faced too, and his hand had formed a fist and landed with a thump on his father’s chest in the time it took him to dredge the memory from the recesses of his mind.
Once, twice, the powerful fist of the crown prince descended. The body beneath jarred with the impact, but there was nothing, no spluttering of life or choking breath. “He’s not breathing” There was a desperation, because Achilleas was no physician, he didn’t know what they were supposed to do. His eyes, wide with panic, scanned the faces of those closest, Fotios and Xene, looking for someone to confirm that he was not making things worse. “Where is the physician?” And then he realised who wasn’t there. “Where is my brother?!”
It was hard for Achilleas to find hilarity in the situation as Emilios seemed wont to do. He was all too aware of the attention that such an act had drawn, and he did not have to turn his head to know that his father’s gaze would be resting upon them, could imagine the displeasure in his expression at the scene. Achilleas twisted his upper body and looked toward the musicians with a loaded glance so soon enough there music at least to detract from the awkward silence that had descended. He turned back to Emilios and Theo as the former began to speak.
The groom looked somewhat doubtful at his brother’s explanation, not wanting to believe that the man would be so foolish. His younger brother was cut of a different cloth from him entirely, lighter of spirit, a great pursuer of pleasure it was true. But Achilleas knew him better than the playboy he liked to act the part of, and was a little surprised that Emilios would be so oafish and clumsy, today of all days. His gaze flickered between the two of them once more before returning to the only one who had volunteered an explanation thus far.
He looked at the man searchingly then, trying to see beyond the laughter for his brother had seemed out of sorts, quiet already, and Achilleas sighed a little as the man in question excused himself. He thought perhaps he had neglected Emilios, who would no doubt be feeling the absence of their cousin keenly. They had not spoken really since Stephanos and Olympia had fled, and he felt as if he should have made time, made certain his brother was not taking it too hard. For a moment longer he watched the retreating back of his younger sibling, before he turned his attention back to Theodora, a furrow of concern sketched across his brow.
She was flushed, dark eyes wet with the promise of tears and would not hold his gaze, a fact that irked him a little and he cast his gaze about them, fending off any interested eyes with a rather fearsome glare. He stilled a moment as he met the uncompromising regard of his father, looking just as Achilleas had imagined he would. What did he expect him to do? It was not him that had caused the ruckus Achilleas turned back to his bride, focusing instead on doing what he could to smooth the situation over. Let Irakles take it up with Emilios if he so wished. For Theo, there was a faint smile at her attempt at humour and Achilleas gave a minute shake of his head. “My brother can be...indelicate sometimes. I’m sure he meant no offence.” He tried to explain for Emilios, not wishing for there to be lingering discord between his bride and his brother, but Theodora assured him at once that she left no blame with the younger Mikaelidas Prince, and Achilleas watched her as she sought to add her own reasoning.
If he had doubts about what exactly had transpired to cause such a vivid reaction, he forgot them in the face of his wife’s worry, at the tremble in her voice that threatened tears again. He drew in a breath and placed one of his hands atop her own,keen to avoid any such further drama. “He’s had much worse I am sure. And Emilios is not one to hold grudges.” Achilleas tried to reassure Theo, and he shook his head again, just wanting to sweep away her discontent as quickly as he was able. He was taken back to her hysteria the night before the Egyptian reception, and remembered how awkward he had felt then, ill-prepared to navigate the extremes of her upset. Let it not devolve into similar again.
“It is already done.” he said swiftly in her request for forgiveness, meeting the glossy gaze that she tipped up toward him. “Think on it no more now” Some part of it was placating, he didn’t want her to cry and add yet more fuel to the gossip’s fires, but Achilleas could admit it was not easy to hold on to any disaffection when she was so clearly distressed. He would speak to Emilios later, perhaps. There was still that niggle of concern for his younger brother.
With a smile that swept away at least some of the tension that had crept into his features at the onset of this little drama, he opened his mouth to say more, but it was a new murmur from somewhere behind them that had the Prince turn his head, and what he saw had any such words fade to nothing.
He watched the Lord Fotios lean down, over something, someone. on the ground, and it took a moment for him to accept the truth that he knew the gold thread trimmed chiton, and he turned back to Theodora, meeting her gaze for a panicked, wide eyed moment before he was pulling her hand away from where it rested upon his chest, the “..my father..” almost lost because he was turning and moving.
Achilleas didn’t give much thought for those who might have been foolish enough not to move out of his way, using the breadth of his shoulders to full effect as he shoved his way through to where Fotios was bent over the prone form of the King, of his father. The call for a physician sounded somehow far away even though he had crashed to his knees right next to the Leventi Head of House.
“What happened?!” The son looked over his father, the ghastly blue tone to his lips, the hand splayed against his chest. For the space of a breath or two, breaths that were conspicuously absent in the fallen monarch, Achilleas’ hands hovered uselessly, uncertain as to what he could do, how he could force some life back into the too still form of the man before him.
After a moment, he’d pushed aside Irakles’ hand from his chest, placed his own palm flat against the barrel chest of the man who had seemed somehow invincible to him for all of his life. There was no steady thrum of life as there should be, and all Achilleas could think of was when a muscle seized with a cramp, locked up. Was this the same? He had seen it done once after a boy had near drowned and been pulled from the water. He had been blue faced too, and his hand had formed a fist and landed with a thump on his father’s chest in the time it took him to dredge the memory from the recesses of his mind.
Once, twice, the powerful fist of the crown prince descended. The body beneath jarred with the impact, but there was nothing, no spluttering of life or choking breath. “He’s not breathing” There was a desperation, because Achilleas was no physician, he didn’t know what they were supposed to do. His eyes, wide with panic, scanned the faces of those closest, Fotios and Xene, looking for someone to confirm that he was not making things worse. “Where is the physician?” And then he realised who wasn’t there. “Where is my brother?!”
Hesiodos needed all of his stage experience to not to laugh like an idiot at Achilleas reaction. After all of these years, he was glad that he could still make him have a reaction. With that out of the way, Hesiodos was ready to go back to Bas to tell him some stories, when he heard a loud voice, calling for a physician. Never in the history of mankind, calling for a physician meant good news.
He didn’t know what happened; apparently the gods decided to be fucking amusing once again and decided to kill the king in the middle of the wedding. The bard’s mouth hung open, with the thoughts instantly sobering him up. This wasn’t good, and heads began to turn. His first instinct was that people would panic. And with so many people…
There were more people in the yard, he remembered. He didn’t think too much about it, knowing exactly what to do, and he ran like the wind towards the yard, lyre in hand, avoiding everyone on his way with the grace of a dancer. People were staring at him as he went, just as he wanted, and began to wonder what in the name of Hades was going on.
As soon as he went there, Hesiodos jumped on the top of a table where guests were drinking. There were sounds of protests, and the bard took the glass of wine from one of them and downed it in one gulp. When he whipped his mouth, he was smiling, and told everyone with a booming voice, worthy of a stage, “Do you want to know the story about how I kissed a noble during a fight!?”
Everyone turned and saw at him, as if he just told everyone that Zeus was there masturbating while eating candied apples. Excellent, he thought. If people were distracted, they wouldn’t panic. And if he knew how to do something, it was how to draw an audience. He began to play a ditty more fit for a rowdy tavern than a wedding, and then began to sing:
“Anything may start a quarrel Love, misunderstanding or an insult No matter if the reason seems immoral One has to solve disputes as adults I had two swords, him a long one Bronze clashed like lighting in the night Blessed by Ares, we know who would have won But my swords still fiercely bite Clash of metal, teeth bared white We meet our blades, deadly as a viper’s hiss On that moment, I knew what to do, alright So I surprised him with a lovely kiss Out of balance, the warrior seemed to be But anger flashed in his eyes, I could see With a headbutt, the world went black around me But his desire, his desire was set free”
He wrote that song in his mind when he got drunk right after the fight with Achilleas, and he almost died because he couldn’t breathe because he was laughing so hard. Everyone began to snigger, too, and began to laugh at his antics. Hesiodos smiled and continued playing, singing upbeat songs that made everyone focus on him.
“Hey, my friends!”, he said after the fifth song, when everyone was already drunk and dancing, lost in the fun of the silly bard doing a jig on the table, “There is more wine at the city! And prostitutes, and delicious food! Follow me! Dance, drink, and be merry! Hera may have blessed the wedding, but Dionysus DEMANDS we have fun!”
Most of the drunk guests seemed to like the idea, so when Hesiodos jumped and landed on his feet gracefully and began to move while dancing, singing and playing, everyone followed as if it was a bacchanalia.
Some stayed, though. The bard could do nothing for them, and sooner rather than later, they would discover the truth…
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Hesiodos needed all of his stage experience to not to laugh like an idiot at Achilleas reaction. After all of these years, he was glad that he could still make him have a reaction. With that out of the way, Hesiodos was ready to go back to Bas to tell him some stories, when he heard a loud voice, calling for a physician. Never in the history of mankind, calling for a physician meant good news.
He didn’t know what happened; apparently the gods decided to be fucking amusing once again and decided to kill the king in the middle of the wedding. The bard’s mouth hung open, with the thoughts instantly sobering him up. This wasn’t good, and heads began to turn. His first instinct was that people would panic. And with so many people…
There were more people in the yard, he remembered. He didn’t think too much about it, knowing exactly what to do, and he ran like the wind towards the yard, lyre in hand, avoiding everyone on his way with the grace of a dancer. People were staring at him as he went, just as he wanted, and began to wonder what in the name of Hades was going on.
As soon as he went there, Hesiodos jumped on the top of a table where guests were drinking. There were sounds of protests, and the bard took the glass of wine from one of them and downed it in one gulp. When he whipped his mouth, he was smiling, and told everyone with a booming voice, worthy of a stage, “Do you want to know the story about how I kissed a noble during a fight!?”
Everyone turned and saw at him, as if he just told everyone that Zeus was there masturbating while eating candied apples. Excellent, he thought. If people were distracted, they wouldn’t panic. And if he knew how to do something, it was how to draw an audience. He began to play a ditty more fit for a rowdy tavern than a wedding, and then began to sing:
“Anything may start a quarrel Love, misunderstanding or an insult No matter if the reason seems immoral One has to solve disputes as adults I had two swords, him a long one Bronze clashed like lighting in the night Blessed by Ares, we know who would have won But my swords still fiercely bite Clash of metal, teeth bared white We meet our blades, deadly as a viper’s hiss On that moment, I knew what to do, alright So I surprised him with a lovely kiss Out of balance, the warrior seemed to be But anger flashed in his eyes, I could see With a headbutt, the world went black around me But his desire, his desire was set free”
He wrote that song in his mind when he got drunk right after the fight with Achilleas, and he almost died because he couldn’t breathe because he was laughing so hard. Everyone began to snigger, too, and began to laugh at his antics. Hesiodos smiled and continued playing, singing upbeat songs that made everyone focus on him.
“Hey, my friends!”, he said after the fifth song, when everyone was already drunk and dancing, lost in the fun of the silly bard doing a jig on the table, “There is more wine at the city! And prostitutes, and delicious food! Follow me! Dance, drink, and be merry! Hera may have blessed the wedding, but Dionysus DEMANDS we have fun!”
Most of the drunk guests seemed to like the idea, so when Hesiodos jumped and landed on his feet gracefully and began to move while dancing, singing and playing, everyone followed as if it was a bacchanalia.
Some stayed, though. The bard could do nothing for them, and sooner rather than later, they would discover the truth…
Hesiodos needed all of his stage experience to not to laugh like an idiot at Achilleas reaction. After all of these years, he was glad that he could still make him have a reaction. With that out of the way, Hesiodos was ready to go back to Bas to tell him some stories, when he heard a loud voice, calling for a physician. Never in the history of mankind, calling for a physician meant good news.
He didn’t know what happened; apparently the gods decided to be fucking amusing once again and decided to kill the king in the middle of the wedding. The bard’s mouth hung open, with the thoughts instantly sobering him up. This wasn’t good, and heads began to turn. His first instinct was that people would panic. And with so many people…
There were more people in the yard, he remembered. He didn’t think too much about it, knowing exactly what to do, and he ran like the wind towards the yard, lyre in hand, avoiding everyone on his way with the grace of a dancer. People were staring at him as he went, just as he wanted, and began to wonder what in the name of Hades was going on.
As soon as he went there, Hesiodos jumped on the top of a table where guests were drinking. There were sounds of protests, and the bard took the glass of wine from one of them and downed it in one gulp. When he whipped his mouth, he was smiling, and told everyone with a booming voice, worthy of a stage, “Do you want to know the story about how I kissed a noble during a fight!?”
Everyone turned and saw at him, as if he just told everyone that Zeus was there masturbating while eating candied apples. Excellent, he thought. If people were distracted, they wouldn’t panic. And if he knew how to do something, it was how to draw an audience. He began to play a ditty more fit for a rowdy tavern than a wedding, and then began to sing:
“Anything may start a quarrel Love, misunderstanding or an insult No matter if the reason seems immoral One has to solve disputes as adults I had two swords, him a long one Bronze clashed like lighting in the night Blessed by Ares, we know who would have won But my swords still fiercely bite Clash of metal, teeth bared white We meet our blades, deadly as a viper’s hiss On that moment, I knew what to do, alright So I surprised him with a lovely kiss Out of balance, the warrior seemed to be But anger flashed in his eyes, I could see With a headbutt, the world went black around me But his desire, his desire was set free”
He wrote that song in his mind when he got drunk right after the fight with Achilleas, and he almost died because he couldn’t breathe because he was laughing so hard. Everyone began to snigger, too, and began to laugh at his antics. Hesiodos smiled and continued playing, singing upbeat songs that made everyone focus on him.
“Hey, my friends!”, he said after the fifth song, when everyone was already drunk and dancing, lost in the fun of the silly bard doing a jig on the table, “There is more wine at the city! And prostitutes, and delicious food! Follow me! Dance, drink, and be merry! Hera may have blessed the wedding, but Dionysus DEMANDS we have fun!”
Most of the drunk guests seemed to like the idea, so when Hesiodos jumped and landed on his feet gracefully and began to move while dancing, singing and playing, everyone followed as if it was a bacchanalia.
Some stayed, though. The bard could do nothing for them, and sooner rather than later, they would discover the truth…
Xene was content to take all of the teasing and taunting that Fotios seemed inclined to direct toward her. The loss of his touch was something she hadn't realized that she was not ready for until the warm brush of his finger was gone. He had left a trail along her skin that was now frigid without the heated, delicate contact. But it was the words he spoke that trailed arousal up her spine and she had to resist the urge to shift slightly to relieve the slight ache.
Blue eyes remained on Lord Fotios' face as she tried to set her thoughts straight. He was toying with her. In public. Part of her enjoyed it, and the other part of her was very aware of what wandering eyes might catch crackling between the princess and the lord. Pure attraction. Unbridled chemistry. Xene didn't even have a chance to respond to her lover, though her heart raced wildly in her chest and Xene had to put her cup to her lips to hide the slight flush that grazed her cheeks.
As soon as the blush appeared, it was gone, Xene finding her control over herself as her uncle approached. Giving Irakles a delicate, welcoming nod to their small group, she said nothing, knowing that this was often the best course of action when Irakles was present. Her uncle had a sharp tendency to belittle her without actually being rude, no matter what words slipped off her lips. Wanting to avoid a scene or the crushing way this often made her feel, now that her only surviving father figure was King, Xene opted for silence.
Even though Fotios seemed intent on continuing to taunt her in front of King Irakles, Xene couldn't find it in herself to respond to any of the quiet assertions for what was on both of their minds. Only here did she speak, "As I have stated, Lord Leventi," Xene said with a soft smile, "I will do my best to correct everything that has offended you," she mused, her gaze sliding to Irakles.
The way he pressed his fingers to her chest had Xene slowly pulling her cup from her lips, lowering it until she was holding to it from above, the metal held just by the pads of her fingers. Tonic? What was so wrong with her uncle that he required a tonic, of all things? Xene found herself unable to think on that much more because things quickly started to get worse. Xene vaguely heard Fotios call her uncle by his name and nothing else, but she was already letting her cup clatter to the floor. The heady, sweet red wine that had filled the goblet cascaded outward away from the group. Xene's hands were already reaching for her uncle, unconcerned with decorum in that moment.
"Uncle?" she asked quickly, also shedding sensibility and propriety in favor of seeking to comfort the man. Panic was already rising in her chest. She had not seen her father's head on a pike nor the blood that had no doubt been Zacharias'. Seeing someone die was not something that Xene had ever experienced and she was quite sure that this was what was happening in this moment. To her uncle. The last patriarch of the Mikaelidas family. The man who had wrested her brother's crown from his hands, who she should had resented for everything he had and hadn't done in the months since his brother had died.
But Xene couldn't find it in herself to resent a man who was so clearly in distress. Lord Fotios shifted Irakles to the ground, and Xene shifted to her uncle's other side, helping Fotios ease him down. "Uncle?" Xene questioned again, her hand on his shoulder with the other drifting to take his free hand. Worry and fear settled in her blue eyes and she let her gaze drift up to Lord Leventi for just a moment. If he were to look up, he would see her world spinning out from beneath her as her breaths started to come faster, her blue eyes filling sharply with tears.
Lord Leventi's order for someone to find a physician fell upon Xene's deaf ears, her gaze once more focused on the blue lips of her uncle as Achilleas streaked up. Where he dropped beside his father had Xene shifting slightly away so that Achilleas could take over trying to help his father. "I don't know, cousin," Xene said, her tone thick with emotion, "He just dropped..." She wasn't sure her cousin heard her, but it didn't matter.
Xene held fast to Irakles' hand with both of hers, flinching each and every time Achilleas beat down upon the King's chest in an effort to restart his heart or get him to breathe, Xene couldn't figure it out.
Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the dark-haired soldier that always seemed to be at Achilleas' back appear out of thin air beside them. He seemed to be calculating something, his own hands reaching for the two of them.
With Achilleas crying that his father wasn't breathing, something jolted Xene into action. Leaning more over her uncle, she waved her hand over his mouth, finding that he was right. He wasn't breathing. "How can I help?" Xene said quickly, all thoughts of her own grief pushed to the furthest recesses of her mind. "Tell me what I can do, Achilleas," her tone took on a biting nature, hoping that some firmness in the wake of this strain would bring some sensibilities back to her cousin.
"Do not worry about Emilios. He is not what is important right now. What. Can. I. Do. Guide me," Xene ordered the crown prince, giving only a side glance to Captain Krysto at their side.
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Check out their information page here.
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Xene was content to take all of the teasing and taunting that Fotios seemed inclined to direct toward her. The loss of his touch was something she hadn't realized that she was not ready for until the warm brush of his finger was gone. He had left a trail along her skin that was now frigid without the heated, delicate contact. But it was the words he spoke that trailed arousal up her spine and she had to resist the urge to shift slightly to relieve the slight ache.
Blue eyes remained on Lord Fotios' face as she tried to set her thoughts straight. He was toying with her. In public. Part of her enjoyed it, and the other part of her was very aware of what wandering eyes might catch crackling between the princess and the lord. Pure attraction. Unbridled chemistry. Xene didn't even have a chance to respond to her lover, though her heart raced wildly in her chest and Xene had to put her cup to her lips to hide the slight flush that grazed her cheeks.
As soon as the blush appeared, it was gone, Xene finding her control over herself as her uncle approached. Giving Irakles a delicate, welcoming nod to their small group, she said nothing, knowing that this was often the best course of action when Irakles was present. Her uncle had a sharp tendency to belittle her without actually being rude, no matter what words slipped off her lips. Wanting to avoid a scene or the crushing way this often made her feel, now that her only surviving father figure was King, Xene opted for silence.
Even though Fotios seemed intent on continuing to taunt her in front of King Irakles, Xene couldn't find it in herself to respond to any of the quiet assertions for what was on both of their minds. Only here did she speak, "As I have stated, Lord Leventi," Xene said with a soft smile, "I will do my best to correct everything that has offended you," she mused, her gaze sliding to Irakles.
The way he pressed his fingers to her chest had Xene slowly pulling her cup from her lips, lowering it until she was holding to it from above, the metal held just by the pads of her fingers. Tonic? What was so wrong with her uncle that he required a tonic, of all things? Xene found herself unable to think on that much more because things quickly started to get worse. Xene vaguely heard Fotios call her uncle by his name and nothing else, but she was already letting her cup clatter to the floor. The heady, sweet red wine that had filled the goblet cascaded outward away from the group. Xene's hands were already reaching for her uncle, unconcerned with decorum in that moment.
"Uncle?" she asked quickly, also shedding sensibility and propriety in favor of seeking to comfort the man. Panic was already rising in her chest. She had not seen her father's head on a pike nor the blood that had no doubt been Zacharias'. Seeing someone die was not something that Xene had ever experienced and she was quite sure that this was what was happening in this moment. To her uncle. The last patriarch of the Mikaelidas family. The man who had wrested her brother's crown from his hands, who she should had resented for everything he had and hadn't done in the months since his brother had died.
But Xene couldn't find it in herself to resent a man who was so clearly in distress. Lord Fotios shifted Irakles to the ground, and Xene shifted to her uncle's other side, helping Fotios ease him down. "Uncle?" Xene questioned again, her hand on his shoulder with the other drifting to take his free hand. Worry and fear settled in her blue eyes and she let her gaze drift up to Lord Leventi for just a moment. If he were to look up, he would see her world spinning out from beneath her as her breaths started to come faster, her blue eyes filling sharply with tears.
Lord Leventi's order for someone to find a physician fell upon Xene's deaf ears, her gaze once more focused on the blue lips of her uncle as Achilleas streaked up. Where he dropped beside his father had Xene shifting slightly away so that Achilleas could take over trying to help his father. "I don't know, cousin," Xene said, her tone thick with emotion, "He just dropped..." She wasn't sure her cousin heard her, but it didn't matter.
Xene held fast to Irakles' hand with both of hers, flinching each and every time Achilleas beat down upon the King's chest in an effort to restart his heart or get him to breathe, Xene couldn't figure it out.
Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the dark-haired soldier that always seemed to be at Achilleas' back appear out of thin air beside them. He seemed to be calculating something, his own hands reaching for the two of them.
With Achilleas crying that his father wasn't breathing, something jolted Xene into action. Leaning more over her uncle, she waved her hand over his mouth, finding that he was right. He wasn't breathing. "How can I help?" Xene said quickly, all thoughts of her own grief pushed to the furthest recesses of her mind. "Tell me what I can do, Achilleas," her tone took on a biting nature, hoping that some firmness in the wake of this strain would bring some sensibilities back to her cousin.
"Do not worry about Emilios. He is not what is important right now. What. Can. I. Do. Guide me," Xene ordered the crown prince, giving only a side glance to Captain Krysto at their side.
Xene was content to take all of the teasing and taunting that Fotios seemed inclined to direct toward her. The loss of his touch was something she hadn't realized that she was not ready for until the warm brush of his finger was gone. He had left a trail along her skin that was now frigid without the heated, delicate contact. But it was the words he spoke that trailed arousal up her spine and she had to resist the urge to shift slightly to relieve the slight ache.
Blue eyes remained on Lord Fotios' face as she tried to set her thoughts straight. He was toying with her. In public. Part of her enjoyed it, and the other part of her was very aware of what wandering eyes might catch crackling between the princess and the lord. Pure attraction. Unbridled chemistry. Xene didn't even have a chance to respond to her lover, though her heart raced wildly in her chest and Xene had to put her cup to her lips to hide the slight flush that grazed her cheeks.
As soon as the blush appeared, it was gone, Xene finding her control over herself as her uncle approached. Giving Irakles a delicate, welcoming nod to their small group, she said nothing, knowing that this was often the best course of action when Irakles was present. Her uncle had a sharp tendency to belittle her without actually being rude, no matter what words slipped off her lips. Wanting to avoid a scene or the crushing way this often made her feel, now that her only surviving father figure was King, Xene opted for silence.
Even though Fotios seemed intent on continuing to taunt her in front of King Irakles, Xene couldn't find it in herself to respond to any of the quiet assertions for what was on both of their minds. Only here did she speak, "As I have stated, Lord Leventi," Xene said with a soft smile, "I will do my best to correct everything that has offended you," she mused, her gaze sliding to Irakles.
The way he pressed his fingers to her chest had Xene slowly pulling her cup from her lips, lowering it until she was holding to it from above, the metal held just by the pads of her fingers. Tonic? What was so wrong with her uncle that he required a tonic, of all things? Xene found herself unable to think on that much more because things quickly started to get worse. Xene vaguely heard Fotios call her uncle by his name and nothing else, but she was already letting her cup clatter to the floor. The heady, sweet red wine that had filled the goblet cascaded outward away from the group. Xene's hands were already reaching for her uncle, unconcerned with decorum in that moment.
"Uncle?" she asked quickly, also shedding sensibility and propriety in favor of seeking to comfort the man. Panic was already rising in her chest. She had not seen her father's head on a pike nor the blood that had no doubt been Zacharias'. Seeing someone die was not something that Xene had ever experienced and she was quite sure that this was what was happening in this moment. To her uncle. The last patriarch of the Mikaelidas family. The man who had wrested her brother's crown from his hands, who she should had resented for everything he had and hadn't done in the months since his brother had died.
But Xene couldn't find it in herself to resent a man who was so clearly in distress. Lord Fotios shifted Irakles to the ground, and Xene shifted to her uncle's other side, helping Fotios ease him down. "Uncle?" Xene questioned again, her hand on his shoulder with the other drifting to take his free hand. Worry and fear settled in her blue eyes and she let her gaze drift up to Lord Leventi for just a moment. If he were to look up, he would see her world spinning out from beneath her as her breaths started to come faster, her blue eyes filling sharply with tears.
Lord Leventi's order for someone to find a physician fell upon Xene's deaf ears, her gaze once more focused on the blue lips of her uncle as Achilleas streaked up. Where he dropped beside his father had Xene shifting slightly away so that Achilleas could take over trying to help his father. "I don't know, cousin," Xene said, her tone thick with emotion, "He just dropped..." She wasn't sure her cousin heard her, but it didn't matter.
Xene held fast to Irakles' hand with both of hers, flinching each and every time Achilleas beat down upon the King's chest in an effort to restart his heart or get him to breathe, Xene couldn't figure it out.
Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the dark-haired soldier that always seemed to be at Achilleas' back appear out of thin air beside them. He seemed to be calculating something, his own hands reaching for the two of them.
With Achilleas crying that his father wasn't breathing, something jolted Xene into action. Leaning more over her uncle, she waved her hand over his mouth, finding that he was right. He wasn't breathing. "How can I help?" Xene said quickly, all thoughts of her own grief pushed to the furthest recesses of her mind. "Tell me what I can do, Achilleas," her tone took on a biting nature, hoping that some firmness in the wake of this strain would bring some sensibilities back to her cousin.
"Do not worry about Emilios. He is not what is important right now. What. Can. I. Do. Guide me," Xene ordered the crown prince, giving only a side glance to Captain Krysto at their side.