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Ariah knew that her life would change the moment she woke up to find Aeton cold as a corpse in his bed, but she never expected anything quite like this. Nêreus had been clear for many years that he did not wholly appreciate her presence around his father, and despite them being the same age, it had always been a clear expectation that she defer to him, second to his father. Which she did, because it was what she was raised to do from the age of five. Nothing, however, could have prepared her for the news that she was being given away. Being sold at the age of five was traumatic but she never envisioned having to go through it again. She had everything with Aeton, after all, and he would never sell her for as long as he lived — he’d said as much. Nêreus, however, made no such promises and Aeton was very much dead, joining...which god was it? in the 'afterlife'. She didn’t know much about Aeton’s gods, but she knew enough about Nêreus. He wanted to be rid of her and that was final. She did not bother trying to plead with him.
She was, from what she’d been able to glean off of Nêreus, being gifted to an old friend of his father’s. A one Zanon of Kotas. She wasn’t sure exactly who that was, or why she was being gifted to him, but she knew better than to argue. What she did know was that she would be relocated to the Kingdom of Colchis. Again, she found herself in the dark. She and Aeton had visited Colchis before, but he never indulged her with much knowledge about them. She was sure he would have told her at least something...were he still alive. Nêreus wouldn’t tell her much more than how important this Zanon was and how she best not embarrass the family name with insolence. As if. Puh. She would just have to figure it out as she went, then.
Being led through Archontikó Kotas was in every sense of the word overwhelming. Ariah had never seen any building of that magnitude up close before, let alone been inside of it. Nêreus has not be joking with her, clearly. This was unlike anything she could have ever imagined. It was terrifying.
It did not feel like much time had passed when she found herself at the doors. They were opened, and when she stood there in awe, was unceremoniously pushed through the doors. She stumbled into the room and found herself looking at the mysterious Zanon of Kotas. He looked like he was in the midst of...paperwork? but that was not nearly as interesting as him. She was staring long before she realized it, and didn’t stop when she was sure he had noticed.
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Ariah knew that her life would change the moment she woke up to find Aeton cold as a corpse in his bed, but she never expected anything quite like this. Nêreus had been clear for many years that he did not wholly appreciate her presence around his father, and despite them being the same age, it had always been a clear expectation that she defer to him, second to his father. Which she did, because it was what she was raised to do from the age of five. Nothing, however, could have prepared her for the news that she was being given away. Being sold at the age of five was traumatic but she never envisioned having to go through it again. She had everything with Aeton, after all, and he would never sell her for as long as he lived — he’d said as much. Nêreus, however, made no such promises and Aeton was very much dead, joining...which god was it? in the 'afterlife'. She didn’t know much about Aeton’s gods, but she knew enough about Nêreus. He wanted to be rid of her and that was final. She did not bother trying to plead with him.
She was, from what she’d been able to glean off of Nêreus, being gifted to an old friend of his father’s. A one Zanon of Kotas. She wasn’t sure exactly who that was, or why she was being gifted to him, but she knew better than to argue. What she did know was that she would be relocated to the Kingdom of Colchis. Again, she found herself in the dark. She and Aeton had visited Colchis before, but he never indulged her with much knowledge about them. She was sure he would have told her at least something...were he still alive. Nêreus wouldn’t tell her much more than how important this Zanon was and how she best not embarrass the family name with insolence. As if. Puh. She would just have to figure it out as she went, then.
Being led through Archontikó Kotas was in every sense of the word overwhelming. Ariah had never seen any building of that magnitude up close before, let alone been inside of it. Nêreus has not be joking with her, clearly. This was unlike anything she could have ever imagined. It was terrifying.
It did not feel like much time had passed when she found herself at the doors. They were opened, and when she stood there in awe, was unceremoniously pushed through the doors. She stumbled into the room and found herself looking at the mysterious Zanon of Kotas. He looked like he was in the midst of...paperwork? but that was not nearly as interesting as him. She was staring long before she realized it, and didn’t stop when she was sure he had noticed.
Ariah knew that her life would change the moment she woke up to find Aeton cold as a corpse in his bed, but she never expected anything quite like this. Nêreus had been clear for many years that he did not wholly appreciate her presence around his father, and despite them being the same age, it had always been a clear expectation that she defer to him, second to his father. Which she did, because it was what she was raised to do from the age of five. Nothing, however, could have prepared her for the news that she was being given away. Being sold at the age of five was traumatic but she never envisioned having to go through it again. She had everything with Aeton, after all, and he would never sell her for as long as he lived — he’d said as much. Nêreus, however, made no such promises and Aeton was very much dead, joining...which god was it? in the 'afterlife'. She didn’t know much about Aeton’s gods, but she knew enough about Nêreus. He wanted to be rid of her and that was final. She did not bother trying to plead with him.
She was, from what she’d been able to glean off of Nêreus, being gifted to an old friend of his father’s. A one Zanon of Kotas. She wasn’t sure exactly who that was, or why she was being gifted to him, but she knew better than to argue. What she did know was that she would be relocated to the Kingdom of Colchis. Again, she found herself in the dark. She and Aeton had visited Colchis before, but he never indulged her with much knowledge about them. She was sure he would have told her at least something...were he still alive. Nêreus wouldn’t tell her much more than how important this Zanon was and how she best not embarrass the family name with insolence. As if. Puh. She would just have to figure it out as she went, then.
Being led through Archontikó Kotas was in every sense of the word overwhelming. Ariah had never seen any building of that magnitude up close before, let alone been inside of it. Nêreus has not be joking with her, clearly. This was unlike anything she could have ever imagined. It was terrifying.
It did not feel like much time had passed when she found herself at the doors. They were opened, and when she stood there in awe, was unceremoniously pushed through the doors. She stumbled into the room and found herself looking at the mysterious Zanon of Kotas. He looked like he was in the midst of...paperwork? but that was not nearly as interesting as him. She was staring long before she realized it, and didn’t stop when she was sure he had noticed.
Ever since Vangelis had left on his latest venture, he had been in pain. The old wound that had nearly crippled him almost four years ago aching and leaving his left leg and hip stiff enough that he had to resort to using the cane that he'd used in recovery. Perhaps it was the change in his usual position, instead of being able to move about and exercise himself like the physician had recommended, he was chained instead to desks and chairs to write and read reports, and listen to the daily meetings with those who required his attention. It had been a month and for the past week, the pain had been excruciating, slowing him down with stiffness that he hadn't felt in a long time.
A friend had told him he was sending him someone who could help, a slave that could be devoted to easing pain and distracting him from the misery and weakness it caused. Seated still at the desk, he grunted as he shifted and his hip popped, trying to stretch out the offending leg and gritting his teeth in pain. The deep wound felt as if the scar was bone deep and immovable today thanks to the storm clouds that gathered outside. Rain always made it worse. The knock on the door drew his gaze and as the serving boy entered he gave a nod, dismissing him with a wave of his hand as he took in the woman who would ease his pain.
She was stunning, with features that were unlike anything he had ever seen in the Greek realms, and skin that reminded him of a warm breeze and dry heat. In essence, she was the opposite of his wife's pale coolness, and for the first time in a long while he felt a tug of desire. Ever since the night he'd slain the man who'd kissed Evras, he'd found that there was little that could draw his attention from her, but since the increase of pain and stress with Vangelis' absence, and she had been withdrawn from him.
Standing slowly, he leaned on the cane that was the only thing keeping him from falling and made his way toward her. She was taller than his wife, slender and graceful looking, but there was a confusion in her face that told him it hadn't been explained what she was doing here. Pausing just out of arm's reach, Zanon leaned on his cane and brought his eyes to rest on her face.
"What is your name?"
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Ever since Vangelis had left on his latest venture, he had been in pain. The old wound that had nearly crippled him almost four years ago aching and leaving his left leg and hip stiff enough that he had to resort to using the cane that he'd used in recovery. Perhaps it was the change in his usual position, instead of being able to move about and exercise himself like the physician had recommended, he was chained instead to desks and chairs to write and read reports, and listen to the daily meetings with those who required his attention. It had been a month and for the past week, the pain had been excruciating, slowing him down with stiffness that he hadn't felt in a long time.
A friend had told him he was sending him someone who could help, a slave that could be devoted to easing pain and distracting him from the misery and weakness it caused. Seated still at the desk, he grunted as he shifted and his hip popped, trying to stretch out the offending leg and gritting his teeth in pain. The deep wound felt as if the scar was bone deep and immovable today thanks to the storm clouds that gathered outside. Rain always made it worse. The knock on the door drew his gaze and as the serving boy entered he gave a nod, dismissing him with a wave of his hand as he took in the woman who would ease his pain.
She was stunning, with features that were unlike anything he had ever seen in the Greek realms, and skin that reminded him of a warm breeze and dry heat. In essence, she was the opposite of his wife's pale coolness, and for the first time in a long while he felt a tug of desire. Ever since the night he'd slain the man who'd kissed Evras, he'd found that there was little that could draw his attention from her, but since the increase of pain and stress with Vangelis' absence, and she had been withdrawn from him.
Standing slowly, he leaned on the cane that was the only thing keeping him from falling and made his way toward her. She was taller than his wife, slender and graceful looking, but there was a confusion in her face that told him it hadn't been explained what she was doing here. Pausing just out of arm's reach, Zanon leaned on his cane and brought his eyes to rest on her face.
"What is your name?"
Ever since Vangelis had left on his latest venture, he had been in pain. The old wound that had nearly crippled him almost four years ago aching and leaving his left leg and hip stiff enough that he had to resort to using the cane that he'd used in recovery. Perhaps it was the change in his usual position, instead of being able to move about and exercise himself like the physician had recommended, he was chained instead to desks and chairs to write and read reports, and listen to the daily meetings with those who required his attention. It had been a month and for the past week, the pain had been excruciating, slowing him down with stiffness that he hadn't felt in a long time.
A friend had told him he was sending him someone who could help, a slave that could be devoted to easing pain and distracting him from the misery and weakness it caused. Seated still at the desk, he grunted as he shifted and his hip popped, trying to stretch out the offending leg and gritting his teeth in pain. The deep wound felt as if the scar was bone deep and immovable today thanks to the storm clouds that gathered outside. Rain always made it worse. The knock on the door drew his gaze and as the serving boy entered he gave a nod, dismissing him with a wave of his hand as he took in the woman who would ease his pain.
She was stunning, with features that were unlike anything he had ever seen in the Greek realms, and skin that reminded him of a warm breeze and dry heat. In essence, she was the opposite of his wife's pale coolness, and for the first time in a long while he felt a tug of desire. Ever since the night he'd slain the man who'd kissed Evras, he'd found that there was little that could draw his attention from her, but since the increase of pain and stress with Vangelis' absence, and she had been withdrawn from him.
Standing slowly, he leaned on the cane that was the only thing keeping him from falling and made his way toward her. She was taller than his wife, slender and graceful looking, but there was a confusion in her face that told him it hadn't been explained what she was doing here. Pausing just out of arm's reach, Zanon leaned on his cane and brought his eyes to rest on her face.
"What is your name?"
That was Zanon of Kotas?
It was far too soon for her mind to be wandering in that direction.
Nêreus would have never allowed it. Nêreus did not allow many things. Her life for a time was nothing more than 'don't do this' and 'don't do that'. It was maddening not to have the freedoms she had grown accustomed to with Aeton. It was disheartening, insulting even, to lose the special treatment she deserved. Now that Nêreus had no control over her, she would have to re-earn everything -- utterly unfair, though that was something she expected. And how did she begin this process? By staring at the man like she had never seen one before. He had, however, said nothing about her staring. Though her eyes were alight with curiosity and bemusement, staring was still staring. But if this Zanon did not mind, why should she?
Anxiety chewed at her stomach, though she felt slightly better to see that he had a cane. Perhaps he would be gentle, though what was the matter with him? Perhaps she would have asked if she had not thought better of it. She was already staring, it would be best she not offend him by speaking out of turn.
Ariah had hardly registered that he had asked her a question. What was her name? She knew the answer to that question. Her lips parted to respond and yet, nothing passed from them. Huh? What was wrong with her? Her brow furrowed slightly. She looked on the cusp of a reply. Why could she not speak? It was quite unlike her to be at a loss for what to say entirely, but there she was, standing within arms reach of him and staring like a silly little girl. Though she found herself speechless, it did not stop her ability to take a small step towards him without thinking about it. She hadn't noticed how close she had come to him until she raised her arm and gently rested her hand upon his cheek.
Then the answer came to her.
"My name...is Ariah." Her words were in Hebrew rather than Greek, but she took no notice of the change in tongue, for she was far too enthralled by the man who stood before her.
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That was Zanon of Kotas?
It was far too soon for her mind to be wandering in that direction.
Nêreus would have never allowed it. Nêreus did not allow many things. Her life for a time was nothing more than 'don't do this' and 'don't do that'. It was maddening not to have the freedoms she had grown accustomed to with Aeton. It was disheartening, insulting even, to lose the special treatment she deserved. Now that Nêreus had no control over her, she would have to re-earn everything -- utterly unfair, though that was something she expected. And how did she begin this process? By staring at the man like she had never seen one before. He had, however, said nothing about her staring. Though her eyes were alight with curiosity and bemusement, staring was still staring. But if this Zanon did not mind, why should she?
Anxiety chewed at her stomach, though she felt slightly better to see that he had a cane. Perhaps he would be gentle, though what was the matter with him? Perhaps she would have asked if she had not thought better of it. She was already staring, it would be best she not offend him by speaking out of turn.
Ariah had hardly registered that he had asked her a question. What was her name? She knew the answer to that question. Her lips parted to respond and yet, nothing passed from them. Huh? What was wrong with her? Her brow furrowed slightly. She looked on the cusp of a reply. Why could she not speak? It was quite unlike her to be at a loss for what to say entirely, but there she was, standing within arms reach of him and staring like a silly little girl. Though she found herself speechless, it did not stop her ability to take a small step towards him without thinking about it. She hadn't noticed how close she had come to him until she raised her arm and gently rested her hand upon his cheek.
Then the answer came to her.
"My name...is Ariah." Her words were in Hebrew rather than Greek, but she took no notice of the change in tongue, for she was far too enthralled by the man who stood before her.
That was Zanon of Kotas?
It was far too soon for her mind to be wandering in that direction.
Nêreus would have never allowed it. Nêreus did not allow many things. Her life for a time was nothing more than 'don't do this' and 'don't do that'. It was maddening not to have the freedoms she had grown accustomed to with Aeton. It was disheartening, insulting even, to lose the special treatment she deserved. Now that Nêreus had no control over her, she would have to re-earn everything -- utterly unfair, though that was something she expected. And how did she begin this process? By staring at the man like she had never seen one before. He had, however, said nothing about her staring. Though her eyes were alight with curiosity and bemusement, staring was still staring. But if this Zanon did not mind, why should she?
Anxiety chewed at her stomach, though she felt slightly better to see that he had a cane. Perhaps he would be gentle, though what was the matter with him? Perhaps she would have asked if she had not thought better of it. She was already staring, it would be best she not offend him by speaking out of turn.
Ariah had hardly registered that he had asked her a question. What was her name? She knew the answer to that question. Her lips parted to respond and yet, nothing passed from them. Huh? What was wrong with her? Her brow furrowed slightly. She looked on the cusp of a reply. Why could she not speak? It was quite unlike her to be at a loss for what to say entirely, but there she was, standing within arms reach of him and staring like a silly little girl. Though she found herself speechless, it did not stop her ability to take a small step towards him without thinking about it. She hadn't noticed how close she had come to him until she raised her arm and gently rested her hand upon his cheek.
Then the answer came to her.
"My name...is Ariah." Her words were in Hebrew rather than Greek, but she took no notice of the change in tongue, for she was far too enthralled by the man who stood before her.
As her silence stretched out, he tipped his head slightly at her and waited, wondering belatedly if she didn't speak Greek. Wracking his brain for the other bits of language he knew, he was surprised when she stepped toward him but did not move away, her hand on his cheek strangely warming and comforting. She wasn't armed, there was nothing she could do to harm him, and he didn't mind admitting he liked the way she looked at him. As if he was something desirable instead of someone to be pitied.
The language she spoke took him a moment to place, but then his lips turned up in a smile and he allowed her touch to remain on his cheek as he tried to remember how best to piece together a greeting in response. Hebrew was not his best tongue, but he knew enough to get by and he had always been interested in learning more of it.
"Ariah. Welcome to Colchis."
Studying her, he was entranced by the curve of her lips for what was likely far too long, barely resisting the urge to lift his hand to toy with her hair and see if her skin felt as smooth beneath his touch as it looked to be. If she was as good as they said she was, she would be a gods sent gift. He'd been told she was good with her hands, and could be what he needed to ensure that he did not become a cripple for the rest of his days. If that was even partially true he foresaw a good deal of use for this new slave.
"I am told you work well with your hands. I have an old wound that ails me."
Zanon turned away from her touch just enough to lift the hem of the knee length chiton he wore to expose the scar. It was wicked looking, still pinkish despite being four years on, and spread from his inner thigh up around his hip on the left side. How he had not entirely lost his leg and the ability to walk was lost on him, but the muscles and skin had somehow healed enough that he was usually able to move normally. It was only in recent months that the scar tissue built up around it had begun to truly cause him agonizing pain.
"Can you help me?"
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As her silence stretched out, he tipped his head slightly at her and waited, wondering belatedly if she didn't speak Greek. Wracking his brain for the other bits of language he knew, he was surprised when she stepped toward him but did not move away, her hand on his cheek strangely warming and comforting. She wasn't armed, there was nothing she could do to harm him, and he didn't mind admitting he liked the way she looked at him. As if he was something desirable instead of someone to be pitied.
The language she spoke took him a moment to place, but then his lips turned up in a smile and he allowed her touch to remain on his cheek as he tried to remember how best to piece together a greeting in response. Hebrew was not his best tongue, but he knew enough to get by and he had always been interested in learning more of it.
"Ariah. Welcome to Colchis."
Studying her, he was entranced by the curve of her lips for what was likely far too long, barely resisting the urge to lift his hand to toy with her hair and see if her skin felt as smooth beneath his touch as it looked to be. If she was as good as they said she was, she would be a gods sent gift. He'd been told she was good with her hands, and could be what he needed to ensure that he did not become a cripple for the rest of his days. If that was even partially true he foresaw a good deal of use for this new slave.
"I am told you work well with your hands. I have an old wound that ails me."
Zanon turned away from her touch just enough to lift the hem of the knee length chiton he wore to expose the scar. It was wicked looking, still pinkish despite being four years on, and spread from his inner thigh up around his hip on the left side. How he had not entirely lost his leg and the ability to walk was lost on him, but the muscles and skin had somehow healed enough that he was usually able to move normally. It was only in recent months that the scar tissue built up around it had begun to truly cause him agonizing pain.
"Can you help me?"
As her silence stretched out, he tipped his head slightly at her and waited, wondering belatedly if she didn't speak Greek. Wracking his brain for the other bits of language he knew, he was surprised when she stepped toward him but did not move away, her hand on his cheek strangely warming and comforting. She wasn't armed, there was nothing she could do to harm him, and he didn't mind admitting he liked the way she looked at him. As if he was something desirable instead of someone to be pitied.
The language she spoke took him a moment to place, but then his lips turned up in a smile and he allowed her touch to remain on his cheek as he tried to remember how best to piece together a greeting in response. Hebrew was not his best tongue, but he knew enough to get by and he had always been interested in learning more of it.
"Ariah. Welcome to Colchis."
Studying her, he was entranced by the curve of her lips for what was likely far too long, barely resisting the urge to lift his hand to toy with her hair and see if her skin felt as smooth beneath his touch as it looked to be. If she was as good as they said she was, she would be a gods sent gift. He'd been told she was good with her hands, and could be what he needed to ensure that he did not become a cripple for the rest of his days. If that was even partially true he foresaw a good deal of use for this new slave.
"I am told you work well with your hands. I have an old wound that ails me."
Zanon turned away from her touch just enough to lift the hem of the knee length chiton he wore to expose the scar. It was wicked looking, still pinkish despite being four years on, and spread from his inner thigh up around his hip on the left side. How he had not entirely lost his leg and the ability to walk was lost on him, but the muscles and skin had somehow healed enough that he was usually able to move normally. It was only in recent months that the scar tissue built up around it had begun to truly cause him agonizing pain.
"Can you help me?"
If she had been in her right mind and not utterly distracted, she would have spoken in his tongue. She caught her mistake far too late, and expected to see him confused. It surprised her, however, to hear him answer her in Hebrew. Perhaps not perfect, but she understood him. How did he know Hebrew? She reminded herself to ask later.
Ariah returned his smile, internally relieved that she had not embarrassed herself. Goodness. What was wrong with her? That seemed to be the underlying question, which came to the forefront of her mind when she recognized that she was, in fact, touching his face. Her first thought was to pull away and apologize, but something stopped her. Whether it was her own desire or the mere fact that he did not pull away or tell her to do so, she did not know, but she would have been content to remain there forever if he had not spoken to her again.
He knew about her? She soon dismissed the thought as a stupid one. Of course he would know about that. She could vaguely remember the conversation that was had when she was first sold. If it had occurred then, why wouldn’t it have occurred now? She made a promise to ask him what else he had been told, once she knew how he would tolerate questions. All seemed well so far, but one could never be too sure.
When he turned to show her his wound, her hand moved from his face to rest lightly on his shoulder. Her gaze shifted from his face to his scar. A look of pity did not cross her face, rather one of thought. “Of course, master,” she spoke in Greek, as her brows furrowed.
Though she had never before seen a wound such as his, it did not deter her from wanting to aid him. That was her purpose after all, to prove she was useful so that he might not want to be rid of her. Ariah sank to her knees and reached for his leg with both hands. Her fingers danced along his skin, careful not to irritate the scar tissue as she considered her next move. “Where is your pain the worst?” she inquired softly, scrutinizing his wound. She could almost…
She placed light pressure where the scarring was the thickest and glanced up at him for a reaction. “Here?”
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If she had been in her right mind and not utterly distracted, she would have spoken in his tongue. She caught her mistake far too late, and expected to see him confused. It surprised her, however, to hear him answer her in Hebrew. Perhaps not perfect, but she understood him. How did he know Hebrew? She reminded herself to ask later.
Ariah returned his smile, internally relieved that she had not embarrassed herself. Goodness. What was wrong with her? That seemed to be the underlying question, which came to the forefront of her mind when she recognized that she was, in fact, touching his face. Her first thought was to pull away and apologize, but something stopped her. Whether it was her own desire or the mere fact that he did not pull away or tell her to do so, she did not know, but she would have been content to remain there forever if he had not spoken to her again.
He knew about her? She soon dismissed the thought as a stupid one. Of course he would know about that. She could vaguely remember the conversation that was had when she was first sold. If it had occurred then, why wouldn’t it have occurred now? She made a promise to ask him what else he had been told, once she knew how he would tolerate questions. All seemed well so far, but one could never be too sure.
When he turned to show her his wound, her hand moved from his face to rest lightly on his shoulder. Her gaze shifted from his face to his scar. A look of pity did not cross her face, rather one of thought. “Of course, master,” she spoke in Greek, as her brows furrowed.
Though she had never before seen a wound such as his, it did not deter her from wanting to aid him. That was her purpose after all, to prove she was useful so that he might not want to be rid of her. Ariah sank to her knees and reached for his leg with both hands. Her fingers danced along his skin, careful not to irritate the scar tissue as she considered her next move. “Where is your pain the worst?” she inquired softly, scrutinizing his wound. She could almost…
She placed light pressure where the scarring was the thickest and glanced up at him for a reaction. “Here?”
If she had been in her right mind and not utterly distracted, she would have spoken in his tongue. She caught her mistake far too late, and expected to see him confused. It surprised her, however, to hear him answer her in Hebrew. Perhaps not perfect, but she understood him. How did he know Hebrew? She reminded herself to ask later.
Ariah returned his smile, internally relieved that she had not embarrassed herself. Goodness. What was wrong with her? That seemed to be the underlying question, which came to the forefront of her mind when she recognized that she was, in fact, touching his face. Her first thought was to pull away and apologize, but something stopped her. Whether it was her own desire or the mere fact that he did not pull away or tell her to do so, she did not know, but she would have been content to remain there forever if he had not spoken to her again.
He knew about her? She soon dismissed the thought as a stupid one. Of course he would know about that. She could vaguely remember the conversation that was had when she was first sold. If it had occurred then, why wouldn’t it have occurred now? She made a promise to ask him what else he had been told, once she knew how he would tolerate questions. All seemed well so far, but one could never be too sure.
When he turned to show her his wound, her hand moved from his face to rest lightly on his shoulder. Her gaze shifted from his face to his scar. A look of pity did not cross her face, rather one of thought. “Of course, master,” she spoke in Greek, as her brows furrowed.
Though she had never before seen a wound such as his, it did not deter her from wanting to aid him. That was her purpose after all, to prove she was useful so that he might not want to be rid of her. Ariah sank to her knees and reached for his leg with both hands. Her fingers danced along his skin, careful not to irritate the scar tissue as she considered her next move. “Where is your pain the worst?” she inquired softly, scrutinizing his wound. She could almost…
She placed light pressure where the scarring was the thickest and glanced up at him for a reaction. “Here?”
When he had been given the girl as a gift he hadn't thought much of her until he learned of her reported skills with easing the pains of a body. With his family feeling so fractured in places, he had to be at the peak of his strength and ability, there was no time for weakness. Zanon watched her carefully as she processed his request, silently pleased that she remained close and touching him as she was for so long. Perhaps he didn't look quite so old as he felt then.
Her touch was gentle, and the prince was relieved to see there was no pity in her expression as she released him and instead moved to her knees before him. Anyone walking in on them now might find the situation compromising, but he kept his own features stoic, only a slight wince breaking through as she touched along the line of the scar. It had been years since the incident, and he'd hoped to make a full recovery but that was beyond his abilities. Even now he felt less able to wield a sword or spear or run up to his previous speeds. At least his primary skills landed on horseback with archery, that couldn't be taken from him if he lost a leg entirely.
A hiss escaped him as she pressed on the thickest part of the scar, a shot of pain that dulled down quickly enough when the pressure was relieved still throbbing as he nodded. "There. And here." Reaching for her hand , he drew it to another line of the scar further up his thigh. This one was not quite so thick and obvious on the surface, but a little pressure revealed the hardened tissue of the deeper cut and a nerve beneath his eye twitched in spite of his efforts to remain still.
"Can you help me?"
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When he had been given the girl as a gift he hadn't thought much of her until he learned of her reported skills with easing the pains of a body. With his family feeling so fractured in places, he had to be at the peak of his strength and ability, there was no time for weakness. Zanon watched her carefully as she processed his request, silently pleased that she remained close and touching him as she was for so long. Perhaps he didn't look quite so old as he felt then.
Her touch was gentle, and the prince was relieved to see there was no pity in her expression as she released him and instead moved to her knees before him. Anyone walking in on them now might find the situation compromising, but he kept his own features stoic, only a slight wince breaking through as she touched along the line of the scar. It had been years since the incident, and he'd hoped to make a full recovery but that was beyond his abilities. Even now he felt less able to wield a sword or spear or run up to his previous speeds. At least his primary skills landed on horseback with archery, that couldn't be taken from him if he lost a leg entirely.
A hiss escaped him as she pressed on the thickest part of the scar, a shot of pain that dulled down quickly enough when the pressure was relieved still throbbing as he nodded. "There. And here." Reaching for her hand , he drew it to another line of the scar further up his thigh. This one was not quite so thick and obvious on the surface, but a little pressure revealed the hardened tissue of the deeper cut and a nerve beneath his eye twitched in spite of his efforts to remain still.
"Can you help me?"
When he had been given the girl as a gift he hadn't thought much of her until he learned of her reported skills with easing the pains of a body. With his family feeling so fractured in places, he had to be at the peak of his strength and ability, there was no time for weakness. Zanon watched her carefully as she processed his request, silently pleased that she remained close and touching him as she was for so long. Perhaps he didn't look quite so old as he felt then.
Her touch was gentle, and the prince was relieved to see there was no pity in her expression as she released him and instead moved to her knees before him. Anyone walking in on them now might find the situation compromising, but he kept his own features stoic, only a slight wince breaking through as she touched along the line of the scar. It had been years since the incident, and he'd hoped to make a full recovery but that was beyond his abilities. Even now he felt less able to wield a sword or spear or run up to his previous speeds. At least his primary skills landed on horseback with archery, that couldn't be taken from him if he lost a leg entirely.
A hiss escaped him as she pressed on the thickest part of the scar, a shot of pain that dulled down quickly enough when the pressure was relieved still throbbing as he nodded. "There. And here." Reaching for her hand , he drew it to another line of the scar further up his thigh. This one was not quite so thick and obvious on the surface, but a little pressure revealed the hardened tissue of the deeper cut and a nerve beneath his eye twitched in spite of his efforts to remain still.
"Can you help me?"
She instantaneously relieved the pressure on his would the moment he hissed. Clearly it was a sensitive area, but his reaction told her the pain was not agonizing, at least, not in response to light pressure. She was sure anything more than what she previously applied would elicit a much stronger reaction. Already, she was formulating a plan. She could handle his kind of pain. She’d been taught well. Her mind was entirely focused on easing the pain of her new master. It was her new purpose, nothing else mattered. Not Aeton or his sons.
Ariah did not resist as he guided her hand to the other location that was causing him pain. Again she applied pressure which eased the moment he reacted negatively. It felt hard and he brows furrowed in thought. She knew how to handle this of course, though it would not be an immediate resolution. She nodded when he asked if she could aid him. “I have been trained in this art, master,” she said, “it will take time and daily care but your movement will improve and your pain will lessen” It was a promise she intended to uphold, no matter how long it took. As long as her master understood that she would need to attend to him daily before anything noticeable happened, she had nothing to fear.
Still on her knees, she felt along his legs again, avoiding the places she already knew caused him pain. In search of other places or hardened tissues or signs of discomfort, Ariah concluded her evaluation shortly after. “You’re putting weight on your leg,” she observed, “only because you are standing. Is there somewhere you can lie down, master? I wouldn’t want you to try and balance yourself on one leg.” That would be a stupid request, of course. No master of her would ever be asked to do something so silly.
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She instantaneously relieved the pressure on his would the moment he hissed. Clearly it was a sensitive area, but his reaction told her the pain was not agonizing, at least, not in response to light pressure. She was sure anything more than what she previously applied would elicit a much stronger reaction. Already, she was formulating a plan. She could handle his kind of pain. She’d been taught well. Her mind was entirely focused on easing the pain of her new master. It was her new purpose, nothing else mattered. Not Aeton or his sons.
Ariah did not resist as he guided her hand to the other location that was causing him pain. Again she applied pressure which eased the moment he reacted negatively. It felt hard and he brows furrowed in thought. She knew how to handle this of course, though it would not be an immediate resolution. She nodded when he asked if she could aid him. “I have been trained in this art, master,” she said, “it will take time and daily care but your movement will improve and your pain will lessen” It was a promise she intended to uphold, no matter how long it took. As long as her master understood that she would need to attend to him daily before anything noticeable happened, she had nothing to fear.
Still on her knees, she felt along his legs again, avoiding the places she already knew caused him pain. In search of other places or hardened tissues or signs of discomfort, Ariah concluded her evaluation shortly after. “You’re putting weight on your leg,” she observed, “only because you are standing. Is there somewhere you can lie down, master? I wouldn’t want you to try and balance yourself on one leg.” That would be a stupid request, of course. No master of her would ever be asked to do something so silly.
She instantaneously relieved the pressure on his would the moment he hissed. Clearly it was a sensitive area, but his reaction told her the pain was not agonizing, at least, not in response to light pressure. She was sure anything more than what she previously applied would elicit a much stronger reaction. Already, she was formulating a plan. She could handle his kind of pain. She’d been taught well. Her mind was entirely focused on easing the pain of her new master. It was her new purpose, nothing else mattered. Not Aeton or his sons.
Ariah did not resist as he guided her hand to the other location that was causing him pain. Again she applied pressure which eased the moment he reacted negatively. It felt hard and he brows furrowed in thought. She knew how to handle this of course, though it would not be an immediate resolution. She nodded when he asked if she could aid him. “I have been trained in this art, master,” she said, “it will take time and daily care but your movement will improve and your pain will lessen” It was a promise she intended to uphold, no matter how long it took. As long as her master understood that she would need to attend to him daily before anything noticeable happened, she had nothing to fear.
Still on her knees, she felt along his legs again, avoiding the places she already knew caused him pain. In search of other places or hardened tissues or signs of discomfort, Ariah concluded her evaluation shortly after. “You’re putting weight on your leg,” she observed, “only because you are standing. Is there somewhere you can lie down, master? I wouldn’t want you to try and balance yourself on one leg.” That would be a stupid request, of course. No master of her would ever be asked to do something so silly.
He didn't like the sound of time. He wanted it to be cared for now, wanted this weakness to end and for the pain to stop, but then again any expectation that it might be repaired in a short time was a foolish hope and he knew it well. Any healing took time, but he had hoped this might be the short cut he had been looking for. Still, the promise of any recovery was one he would not take for granted and he gave a nod as she delivered her assessment.
"I understand." Gesturing for her to rise, he was surprised when she remained on her knees before him and then asked him to lay down. It hadn't been his intention to linger with her for a length of time or to begin the process of healing right then, but with the promise she had given him he had a flicker of hope once again and after a surprised moment of silence gave a nod. With another motion that she should rise, he indicated to the chamber that held his bed beyond this antechamber.
"In there, and if you have further items you require they can be procured for you."
Zanon led the way, looking to the bottles of oils and ointments that had been prescribed to him before that rested on one of the tables near the bed. Massage helped soothe some of the ache, but perhaps there was something else she knew, a technique from afar that would give him more relief. "Help yourself to anything there. And as I said, whatever else you require will be provided." Sitting on the bed with a grunt, he lifted his injured leg onto the bed and watched her, not fully laying back just yet and waiting for her next order.
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He didn't like the sound of time. He wanted it to be cared for now, wanted this weakness to end and for the pain to stop, but then again any expectation that it might be repaired in a short time was a foolish hope and he knew it well. Any healing took time, but he had hoped this might be the short cut he had been looking for. Still, the promise of any recovery was one he would not take for granted and he gave a nod as she delivered her assessment.
"I understand." Gesturing for her to rise, he was surprised when she remained on her knees before him and then asked him to lay down. It hadn't been his intention to linger with her for a length of time or to begin the process of healing right then, but with the promise she had given him he had a flicker of hope once again and after a surprised moment of silence gave a nod. With another motion that she should rise, he indicated to the chamber that held his bed beyond this antechamber.
"In there, and if you have further items you require they can be procured for you."
Zanon led the way, looking to the bottles of oils and ointments that had been prescribed to him before that rested on one of the tables near the bed. Massage helped soothe some of the ache, but perhaps there was something else she knew, a technique from afar that would give him more relief. "Help yourself to anything there. And as I said, whatever else you require will be provided." Sitting on the bed with a grunt, he lifted his injured leg onto the bed and watched her, not fully laying back just yet and waiting for her next order.
He didn't like the sound of time. He wanted it to be cared for now, wanted this weakness to end and for the pain to stop, but then again any expectation that it might be repaired in a short time was a foolish hope and he knew it well. Any healing took time, but he had hoped this might be the short cut he had been looking for. Still, the promise of any recovery was one he would not take for granted and he gave a nod as she delivered her assessment.
"I understand." Gesturing for her to rise, he was surprised when she remained on her knees before him and then asked him to lay down. It hadn't been his intention to linger with her for a length of time or to begin the process of healing right then, but with the promise she had given him he had a flicker of hope once again and after a surprised moment of silence gave a nod. With another motion that she should rise, he indicated to the chamber that held his bed beyond this antechamber.
"In there, and if you have further items you require they can be procured for you."
Zanon led the way, looking to the bottles of oils and ointments that had been prescribed to him before that rested on one of the tables near the bed. Massage helped soothe some of the ache, but perhaps there was something else she knew, a technique from afar that would give him more relief. "Help yourself to anything there. And as I said, whatever else you require will be provided." Sitting on the bed with a grunt, he lifted his injured leg onto the bed and watched her, not fully laying back just yet and waiting for her next order.
She stood when he motioned for her to do so and thought little of it. Being on her knees was commonplace, something she had been doing most of her life. It was what it was. Of course, she was not worried about that. Something more important had come up. She had a mission now, a purpose again, and she would do her very best to ensure it was done correctly.
Glancing towards the chamber he motioned at, she nodded at his words. There had been a brief urge to tell him that she didn't need anything fancy or extra, but she said nothing of the sort, worried that he might interpret that as overconfidence. She knew how the body responded to the right touch, but she'd never dealt with a wound as severe as his. Perhaps it be best if she not make grand promises before she actually got her hands on him.
Following, his lead into the chamber, her eyes immediately fell upon the contents on the table. While she was sure she recognized a few, there was no intention in her mind of using any of them long term. Temporary. That was all they were. Temporary things to trick the mind into thinking the body was better. Truly, any old oil would do, but she did not want to appear like she knew better than his physicians. She just knew the body, that was all.
She went to the table first, looking through the oils and ointment with a certain scrutiny. She only needed something to keep the scar lubricated, and when she found on that satisfied her, she took it from the table and returned to him. The way he sat on the bed did not bother her, so she did not ask him to do otherwise. Holding the oil, Ariah asked a question. "Have they tried stretching? Your scar, I mean."
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She stood when he motioned for her to do so and thought little of it. Being on her knees was commonplace, something she had been doing most of her life. It was what it was. Of course, she was not worried about that. Something more important had come up. She had a mission now, a purpose again, and she would do her very best to ensure it was done correctly.
Glancing towards the chamber he motioned at, she nodded at his words. There had been a brief urge to tell him that she didn't need anything fancy or extra, but she said nothing of the sort, worried that he might interpret that as overconfidence. She knew how the body responded to the right touch, but she'd never dealt with a wound as severe as his. Perhaps it be best if she not make grand promises before she actually got her hands on him.
Following, his lead into the chamber, her eyes immediately fell upon the contents on the table. While she was sure she recognized a few, there was no intention in her mind of using any of them long term. Temporary. That was all they were. Temporary things to trick the mind into thinking the body was better. Truly, any old oil would do, but she did not want to appear like she knew better than his physicians. She just knew the body, that was all.
She went to the table first, looking through the oils and ointment with a certain scrutiny. She only needed something to keep the scar lubricated, and when she found on that satisfied her, she took it from the table and returned to him. The way he sat on the bed did not bother her, so she did not ask him to do otherwise. Holding the oil, Ariah asked a question. "Have they tried stretching? Your scar, I mean."
She stood when he motioned for her to do so and thought little of it. Being on her knees was commonplace, something she had been doing most of her life. It was what it was. Of course, she was not worried about that. Something more important had come up. She had a mission now, a purpose again, and she would do her very best to ensure it was done correctly.
Glancing towards the chamber he motioned at, she nodded at his words. There had been a brief urge to tell him that she didn't need anything fancy or extra, but she said nothing of the sort, worried that he might interpret that as overconfidence. She knew how the body responded to the right touch, but she'd never dealt with a wound as severe as his. Perhaps it be best if she not make grand promises before she actually got her hands on him.
Following, his lead into the chamber, her eyes immediately fell upon the contents on the table. While she was sure she recognized a few, there was no intention in her mind of using any of them long term. Temporary. That was all they were. Temporary things to trick the mind into thinking the body was better. Truly, any old oil would do, but she did not want to appear like she knew better than his physicians. She just knew the body, that was all.
She went to the table first, looking through the oils and ointment with a certain scrutiny. She only needed something to keep the scar lubricated, and when she found on that satisfied her, she took it from the table and returned to him. The way he sat on the bed did not bother her, so she did not ask him to do otherwise. Holding the oil, Ariah asked a question. "Have they tried stretching? Your scar, I mean."
Zanon watched from his vantage point as the girl took in the items that had been left for her to use, she seemed to know what most were and took a few for extra inspection as she asked him more. There had been some physicians that tried stretching as she said, but most simply pounded their oils into his scar and gave temporary relief before it all came surging back again. It grew stiffer as the breezes blew colder, his main relief was only in the warm summer months or the baths where the heat of the water allowed overworked aching muscles to relax in spite of the strain of his body.
"Some slight stretching, yes. Though most have seemed content that I'll be a cripple forever."
There was a bitterness in his tone as he looked down at his leg, cursing the day it had happened while thanking the gods even in the same breath that he had survived. It had been uncertain if he would make the transfer from the camp to the boats, much less the journey across the sea and then surviving. A few aches and pains while frustrating were well worth the cost of his life.
Allowing the girl to get to work, he remained propped up on his elbows to watch as she applied the oil to the scar tissue, massaging it against his skin and not judging as some of the others had when he gave a hiss of discomfort. Instead her skilled touch persisted on the pressure until there was something that unwound, like the tensed arch of a cat suddenly transformed into a purr instead. It was the first hint of proper relief he'd had in years, and his gasp of surprise was audible. After reassuring Ariah that it had been relief and not pain, Zanon finally allowed himself the ability to relax.
By the time she finished her ministrations, he was nearly dozing on the bed and simply smiled up at her as she declared that was all she could do for the moment. In a short time she had done more for his pain than any of the others who had made an attempt, and though he was tired from the process and the stretch and release of muscles that had been wound too tight for too long, he felt as if he could walk without trouble for the first time in years. Giving her his thanks, he called for a guard to escort her back to the chamber that would be hers before stretching out his leg in awe.
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Zanon watched from his vantage point as the girl took in the items that had been left for her to use, she seemed to know what most were and took a few for extra inspection as she asked him more. There had been some physicians that tried stretching as she said, but most simply pounded their oils into his scar and gave temporary relief before it all came surging back again. It grew stiffer as the breezes blew colder, his main relief was only in the warm summer months or the baths where the heat of the water allowed overworked aching muscles to relax in spite of the strain of his body.
"Some slight stretching, yes. Though most have seemed content that I'll be a cripple forever."
There was a bitterness in his tone as he looked down at his leg, cursing the day it had happened while thanking the gods even in the same breath that he had survived. It had been uncertain if he would make the transfer from the camp to the boats, much less the journey across the sea and then surviving. A few aches and pains while frustrating were well worth the cost of his life.
Allowing the girl to get to work, he remained propped up on his elbows to watch as she applied the oil to the scar tissue, massaging it against his skin and not judging as some of the others had when he gave a hiss of discomfort. Instead her skilled touch persisted on the pressure until there was something that unwound, like the tensed arch of a cat suddenly transformed into a purr instead. It was the first hint of proper relief he'd had in years, and his gasp of surprise was audible. After reassuring Ariah that it had been relief and not pain, Zanon finally allowed himself the ability to relax.
By the time she finished her ministrations, he was nearly dozing on the bed and simply smiled up at her as she declared that was all she could do for the moment. In a short time she had done more for his pain than any of the others who had made an attempt, and though he was tired from the process and the stretch and release of muscles that had been wound too tight for too long, he felt as if he could walk without trouble for the first time in years. Giving her his thanks, he called for a guard to escort her back to the chamber that would be hers before stretching out his leg in awe.
Zanon watched from his vantage point as the girl took in the items that had been left for her to use, she seemed to know what most were and took a few for extra inspection as she asked him more. There had been some physicians that tried stretching as she said, but most simply pounded their oils into his scar and gave temporary relief before it all came surging back again. It grew stiffer as the breezes blew colder, his main relief was only in the warm summer months or the baths where the heat of the water allowed overworked aching muscles to relax in spite of the strain of his body.
"Some slight stretching, yes. Though most have seemed content that I'll be a cripple forever."
There was a bitterness in his tone as he looked down at his leg, cursing the day it had happened while thanking the gods even in the same breath that he had survived. It had been uncertain if he would make the transfer from the camp to the boats, much less the journey across the sea and then surviving. A few aches and pains while frustrating were well worth the cost of his life.
Allowing the girl to get to work, he remained propped up on his elbows to watch as she applied the oil to the scar tissue, massaging it against his skin and not judging as some of the others had when he gave a hiss of discomfort. Instead her skilled touch persisted on the pressure until there was something that unwound, like the tensed arch of a cat suddenly transformed into a purr instead. It was the first hint of proper relief he'd had in years, and his gasp of surprise was audible. After reassuring Ariah that it had been relief and not pain, Zanon finally allowed himself the ability to relax.
By the time she finished her ministrations, he was nearly dozing on the bed and simply smiled up at her as she declared that was all she could do for the moment. In a short time she had done more for his pain than any of the others who had made an attempt, and though he was tired from the process and the stretch and release of muscles that had been wound too tight for too long, he felt as if he could walk without trouble for the first time in years. Giving her his thanks, he called for a guard to escort her back to the chamber that would be hers before stretching out his leg in awe.