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After speaking with Iris and Aimias - two people who, before leaving Athenia felt as if they were her closest friends and most trusted of allies - Persephone felt torn in her opinions. Whilst she had not lessened her love for either of them, or her faith in their good meaning and the belief they held in their information... she no longer trusted implicitly that what they assured her was the right course of action truly was as they claimed.
Whilst Persephone had to admit that she had not been in Athenia to witness the difficulties and destruction that Elias was threatening to wrought... whilst she had to admit that her father - and her loyalty to that father - had brought that behaviour upon the people of a nation she had always served and loved... she could not easily commend in her mind that civil war was the best of options for all those involved.
And yet... was that really her objective mind talking? Or was it her desire to take Emilia - the last of her blooded family - and run with Iason to the farthest reaches of Taengea where she could live out the rest of her days without thought or guilt of what lay siege to her homeland.
Not that, with her temperament, a clear conscience was likely.
And yet how much blood would her conscience withstand if she was responsible for steeping the entire kingdom ankle deep in blood? For she knew it would not be as simple as her claiming a title that was legally hers. Elias would fight tooth and nail and likely had two months head start upon her for wooing the Senators to his rallying flag.
And yet she still had loyalists. Like Iris. Like Aimias. Those who were willing to stand by her in her absence and would stand by her in war.
Yet she could not subject the people of Athenia to that! Surely an incompetent rule by a man who would have held the crown upon her father's death originally was a lesser of two evils than the tyranny and trauma of all out violence in the streets?
And yet to not stand and fight subjected her friends - those who had laid their honour and valour and position on the line for what they believed to be right; for her reign - to losing all that they held dear simply for saying that which they believed. She would be abandoning them.
Who did she betray? Her friends? Her kingdom? Her own heart?
Persephone felt like she was being slowly suffocated. Strangled. Trapped. Unable to see the light or the reason for a way out. All she could see was depression, aggression and multiple ways to inflict the same wounds upon the land her father had loved so much.
These thoughts swirled in her head over and over after Persephone was forced to excuse herself from the conversation with her friends. Begging a long journey and the need to think, Iris had provided her with a guide to her borrowed chambers in the form of Acantha. A second had been prepared for Iason but Persephone was quick to address the issue.
"A second chamber will not be needed." She told the girl quietly with all the dignity that such a statement could muster and then led the way into her temporary sleeping quarters, Iason left with the choice of whether to follow her inside or collect his things from the secondary room. A task that could be settled now or left until morning.
Once Iason was inside with her and had shut the door, Persephone still stood where she had paused, in the centre of the room, her gaze inward and her head bent a little in consideration as she stared into nothingness, her mind distracting her from the outside world.
"You were very quiet downstairs." Persephone commented, breaking the silence only momentarily. Iason had said next to nothing since entering the Argyris household and yet she knew he would have an opinion. How could he not, when such events had unfolded before them.
Yet, she knew that he had remained quiet for her sake.
Ever since their engagement, Iason had been strong on his determination that Persephone do what she thought best, what her heart dictated. He held trust in her. Yet, at the same time she was also his superior in social rank, the one who was expected to make the choices.
Now... now they were equals. She was to be his wife and he her husband. His opinion: be it his selfish, personal desires, or his objective reasoning, she wanted to know, wanted to hear... wanted to connect to...
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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After speaking with Iris and Aimias - two people who, before leaving Athenia felt as if they were her closest friends and most trusted of allies - Persephone felt torn in her opinions. Whilst she had not lessened her love for either of them, or her faith in their good meaning and the belief they held in their information... she no longer trusted implicitly that what they assured her was the right course of action truly was as they claimed.
Whilst Persephone had to admit that she had not been in Athenia to witness the difficulties and destruction that Elias was threatening to wrought... whilst she had to admit that her father - and her loyalty to that father - had brought that behaviour upon the people of a nation she had always served and loved... she could not easily commend in her mind that civil war was the best of options for all those involved.
And yet... was that really her objective mind talking? Or was it her desire to take Emilia - the last of her blooded family - and run with Iason to the farthest reaches of Taengea where she could live out the rest of her days without thought or guilt of what lay siege to her homeland.
Not that, with her temperament, a clear conscience was likely.
And yet how much blood would her conscience withstand if she was responsible for steeping the entire kingdom ankle deep in blood? For she knew it would not be as simple as her claiming a title that was legally hers. Elias would fight tooth and nail and likely had two months head start upon her for wooing the Senators to his rallying flag.
And yet she still had loyalists. Like Iris. Like Aimias. Those who were willing to stand by her in her absence and would stand by her in war.
Yet she could not subject the people of Athenia to that! Surely an incompetent rule by a man who would have held the crown upon her father's death originally was a lesser of two evils than the tyranny and trauma of all out violence in the streets?
And yet to not stand and fight subjected her friends - those who had laid their honour and valour and position on the line for what they believed to be right; for her reign - to losing all that they held dear simply for saying that which they believed. She would be abandoning them.
Who did she betray? Her friends? Her kingdom? Her own heart?
Persephone felt like she was being slowly suffocated. Strangled. Trapped. Unable to see the light or the reason for a way out. All she could see was depression, aggression and multiple ways to inflict the same wounds upon the land her father had loved so much.
These thoughts swirled in her head over and over after Persephone was forced to excuse herself from the conversation with her friends. Begging a long journey and the need to think, Iris had provided her with a guide to her borrowed chambers in the form of Acantha. A second had been prepared for Iason but Persephone was quick to address the issue.
"A second chamber will not be needed." She told the girl quietly with all the dignity that such a statement could muster and then led the way into her temporary sleeping quarters, Iason left with the choice of whether to follow her inside or collect his things from the secondary room. A task that could be settled now or left until morning.
Once Iason was inside with her and had shut the door, Persephone still stood where she had paused, in the centre of the room, her gaze inward and her head bent a little in consideration as she stared into nothingness, her mind distracting her from the outside world.
"You were very quiet downstairs." Persephone commented, breaking the silence only momentarily. Iason had said next to nothing since entering the Argyris household and yet she knew he would have an opinion. How could he not, when such events had unfolded before them.
Yet, she knew that he had remained quiet for her sake.
Ever since their engagement, Iason had been strong on his determination that Persephone do what she thought best, what her heart dictated. He held trust in her. Yet, at the same time she was also his superior in social rank, the one who was expected to make the choices.
Now... now they were equals. She was to be his wife and he her husband. His opinion: be it his selfish, personal desires, or his objective reasoning, she wanted to know, wanted to hear... wanted to connect to...
After speaking with Iris and Aimias - two people who, before leaving Athenia felt as if they were her closest friends and most trusted of allies - Persephone felt torn in her opinions. Whilst she had not lessened her love for either of them, or her faith in their good meaning and the belief they held in their information... she no longer trusted implicitly that what they assured her was the right course of action truly was as they claimed.
Whilst Persephone had to admit that she had not been in Athenia to witness the difficulties and destruction that Elias was threatening to wrought... whilst she had to admit that her father - and her loyalty to that father - had brought that behaviour upon the people of a nation she had always served and loved... she could not easily commend in her mind that civil war was the best of options for all those involved.
And yet... was that really her objective mind talking? Or was it her desire to take Emilia - the last of her blooded family - and run with Iason to the farthest reaches of Taengea where she could live out the rest of her days without thought or guilt of what lay siege to her homeland.
Not that, with her temperament, a clear conscience was likely.
And yet how much blood would her conscience withstand if she was responsible for steeping the entire kingdom ankle deep in blood? For she knew it would not be as simple as her claiming a title that was legally hers. Elias would fight tooth and nail and likely had two months head start upon her for wooing the Senators to his rallying flag.
And yet she still had loyalists. Like Iris. Like Aimias. Those who were willing to stand by her in her absence and would stand by her in war.
Yet she could not subject the people of Athenia to that! Surely an incompetent rule by a man who would have held the crown upon her father's death originally was a lesser of two evils than the tyranny and trauma of all out violence in the streets?
And yet to not stand and fight subjected her friends - those who had laid their honour and valour and position on the line for what they believed to be right; for her reign - to losing all that they held dear simply for saying that which they believed. She would be abandoning them.
Who did she betray? Her friends? Her kingdom? Her own heart?
Persephone felt like she was being slowly suffocated. Strangled. Trapped. Unable to see the light or the reason for a way out. All she could see was depression, aggression and multiple ways to inflict the same wounds upon the land her father had loved so much.
These thoughts swirled in her head over and over after Persephone was forced to excuse herself from the conversation with her friends. Begging a long journey and the need to think, Iris had provided her with a guide to her borrowed chambers in the form of Acantha. A second had been prepared for Iason but Persephone was quick to address the issue.
"A second chamber will not be needed." She told the girl quietly with all the dignity that such a statement could muster and then led the way into her temporary sleeping quarters, Iason left with the choice of whether to follow her inside or collect his things from the secondary room. A task that could be settled now or left until morning.
Once Iason was inside with her and had shut the door, Persephone still stood where she had paused, in the centre of the room, her gaze inward and her head bent a little in consideration as she stared into nothingness, her mind distracting her from the outside world.
"You were very quiet downstairs." Persephone commented, breaking the silence only momentarily. Iason had said next to nothing since entering the Argyris household and yet she knew he would have an opinion. How could he not, when such events had unfolded before them.
Yet, she knew that he had remained quiet for her sake.
Ever since their engagement, Iason had been strong on his determination that Persephone do what she thought best, what her heart dictated. He held trust in her. Yet, at the same time she was also his superior in social rank, the one who was expected to make the choices.
Now... now they were equals. She was to be his wife and he her husband. His opinion: be it his selfish, personal desires, or his objective reasoning, she wanted to know, wanted to hear... wanted to connect to...
In silence after his initial comments, Iason had watched as the Athenian nobles had worked to convince Persephone to fight. It had been a difficult position, and he’d bit down on his tongue more than once in a desire to raise a contradiction to the Lady Iris’ assertion that she would rather see all of Athenia fall than for Elias of Stravos to be on the throne. While he held no great affection for the man who had tried to have them all killed, he felt a harsh sting of disgust that this woman who Persephone trusted would rather see hundreds if not thousands of citizens and soldiers killed in a battle that might be futile in an attempt to put her back on the throne. He had sworn to stand by his future wife’s side, but civil war after the plight of his own country’s quick exchange of kings left a bitter taste in his mouth.
As Persephone waved aside the offer of a second room he didn’t hesitate to follow her. The few things he’d brought could be moved later, and if people wanted to gossip and suggest their arrangement was inappropriate their tongues could wag until they fell out. He let her take her place in the room, the door closed behind him as he stood still close to the frame to let her think. Even after she commented on his silence he paused to compose his thoughts before stepping forward, hands brushing along her shoulders as he lingered behind her.
“You told me once, it feels like a lifetime ago, that you didn’t want to be queen. That you did not want to start a war over something you did not want.”
His voice was quiet as he spoke, steady and even as his fingers traced slight patterns along her slim shoulders. Memories of that night after he’d pulled her from the forest felt impossibly long ago though it was not so many weeks between. Now they were back in the place they had fled as betrothed, but their relationship had been definitively changed. He remembered the way she’d tucked herself against his chest that morning as they spoke of their futures and what should be done, the way they had decided that they would stay in Taengea and be baron and baroness together. It was a future he was willing to sacrifice everything for.
“They seem to think the only option is civil war. That there is no other choice here but to spill blood and take lives. I admit, what Lady Iris said about being willing to see the country torn apart rather than ruled by Stravos seemed...beyond extreme.”
Another moment of silence filled the space between him as he took another breath and sighed it out, taking her hand and lifting it to his lips. They might not have spoken their vows aloud before the priests of the temples, but she was his to protect and love, and he wouldn’t take either of those duties lightly. ”I think we can find other options, even if it takes time. But, whatever you choose, I will support you, my wife.”
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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In silence after his initial comments, Iason had watched as the Athenian nobles had worked to convince Persephone to fight. It had been a difficult position, and he’d bit down on his tongue more than once in a desire to raise a contradiction to the Lady Iris’ assertion that she would rather see all of Athenia fall than for Elias of Stravos to be on the throne. While he held no great affection for the man who had tried to have them all killed, he felt a harsh sting of disgust that this woman who Persephone trusted would rather see hundreds if not thousands of citizens and soldiers killed in a battle that might be futile in an attempt to put her back on the throne. He had sworn to stand by his future wife’s side, but civil war after the plight of his own country’s quick exchange of kings left a bitter taste in his mouth.
As Persephone waved aside the offer of a second room he didn’t hesitate to follow her. The few things he’d brought could be moved later, and if people wanted to gossip and suggest their arrangement was inappropriate their tongues could wag until they fell out. He let her take her place in the room, the door closed behind him as he stood still close to the frame to let her think. Even after she commented on his silence he paused to compose his thoughts before stepping forward, hands brushing along her shoulders as he lingered behind her.
“You told me once, it feels like a lifetime ago, that you didn’t want to be queen. That you did not want to start a war over something you did not want.”
His voice was quiet as he spoke, steady and even as his fingers traced slight patterns along her slim shoulders. Memories of that night after he’d pulled her from the forest felt impossibly long ago though it was not so many weeks between. Now they were back in the place they had fled as betrothed, but their relationship had been definitively changed. He remembered the way she’d tucked herself against his chest that morning as they spoke of their futures and what should be done, the way they had decided that they would stay in Taengea and be baron and baroness together. It was a future he was willing to sacrifice everything for.
“They seem to think the only option is civil war. That there is no other choice here but to spill blood and take lives. I admit, what Lady Iris said about being willing to see the country torn apart rather than ruled by Stravos seemed...beyond extreme.”
Another moment of silence filled the space between him as he took another breath and sighed it out, taking her hand and lifting it to his lips. They might not have spoken their vows aloud before the priests of the temples, but she was his to protect and love, and he wouldn’t take either of those duties lightly. ”I think we can find other options, even if it takes time. But, whatever you choose, I will support you, my wife.”
In silence after his initial comments, Iason had watched as the Athenian nobles had worked to convince Persephone to fight. It had been a difficult position, and he’d bit down on his tongue more than once in a desire to raise a contradiction to the Lady Iris’ assertion that she would rather see all of Athenia fall than for Elias of Stravos to be on the throne. While he held no great affection for the man who had tried to have them all killed, he felt a harsh sting of disgust that this woman who Persephone trusted would rather see hundreds if not thousands of citizens and soldiers killed in a battle that might be futile in an attempt to put her back on the throne. He had sworn to stand by his future wife’s side, but civil war after the plight of his own country’s quick exchange of kings left a bitter taste in his mouth.
As Persephone waved aside the offer of a second room he didn’t hesitate to follow her. The few things he’d brought could be moved later, and if people wanted to gossip and suggest their arrangement was inappropriate their tongues could wag until they fell out. He let her take her place in the room, the door closed behind him as he stood still close to the frame to let her think. Even after she commented on his silence he paused to compose his thoughts before stepping forward, hands brushing along her shoulders as he lingered behind her.
“You told me once, it feels like a lifetime ago, that you didn’t want to be queen. That you did not want to start a war over something you did not want.”
His voice was quiet as he spoke, steady and even as his fingers traced slight patterns along her slim shoulders. Memories of that night after he’d pulled her from the forest felt impossibly long ago though it was not so many weeks between. Now they were back in the place they had fled as betrothed, but their relationship had been definitively changed. He remembered the way she’d tucked herself against his chest that morning as they spoke of their futures and what should be done, the way they had decided that they would stay in Taengea and be baron and baroness together. It was a future he was willing to sacrifice everything for.
“They seem to think the only option is civil war. That there is no other choice here but to spill blood and take lives. I admit, what Lady Iris said about being willing to see the country torn apart rather than ruled by Stravos seemed...beyond extreme.”
Another moment of silence filled the space between him as he took another breath and sighed it out, taking her hand and lifting it to his lips. They might not have spoken their vows aloud before the priests of the temples, but she was his to protect and love, and he wouldn’t take either of those duties lightly. ”I think we can find other options, even if it takes time. But, whatever you choose, I will support you, my wife.”
Persephone's lashes lowered in a moment of soft reprieve when Iason came forward to brush his fingertips over her skin. Her eyes performed what her mind wished and blocked out the rest of the world, trying to listen to an internal voice that seemed so confused it couldn't formulate its own voice.
She listened, instead, to Iason as he spoke. A man who she had known for only a fraction of the time she had been friends and loyal ally of Iris and Aimias. Yet a man whom she trusted to be just and good in all that he did. Whilst it could not be said that he was fully objective in such a discussion, he was perhaps less personally bias than the others involved.
Standing still under his touch, Perse's lips curled a little at his assurances that he would stand by her whatever she chose... Yet all she could do was confirm her lack of choice and indecision.
"I did say that." She agreed with him when he drew up her own words. "And I still do not wish to be queen." She confirmed. It was the only element of her own mind that she was in fact certain of. "I used to think... that I knew what it meant to be a ruler and how best to orchestrate a kingdom for the good of the people. But it was hubris. My father and I. It was our hubris in our own capabilities above others that brought Athenia to this."
Persephone turned slowly in Iason's hold, his touch brushing along her skin as she spun. Her eyes were not sad or self-deprecating in her next words - only honest and open. "I do not think myself wise enough to rule, regardless of my lack of desire."
His words over Iris' assertions to bring the nation to war instead of allowing Elias - a man who was destined to the throne before any law changes were made regardless - to sit upon the throne were understandable. Persephone had felt similarly but she also knew of Iris' fiery spirit and her determination that she would will out the battles and the conflict until victory was in sight. Her faith gave her a guarantee of worth...
Persephone shrugged lightly, her head tilting as she spoke only from the logical stand of such determination.
"The long-standing rule of a cruel king can mean the death of a kingdom." She mused aloud, her words clearly contemplating in temperament. "There is a logic to short term suffrage for long term peace." A light dip appeared between her brows as her hands knotted together in front of her pelvis, her fingers toying over the rims of her nails, before she shifted them to hug herself across her middle, her hands tucked in beneath her upper arms. "Yet, perhaps I am naive, but violence will, I hope, never feel like the natural choice of progress."
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Persephone's lashes lowered in a moment of soft reprieve when Iason came forward to brush his fingertips over her skin. Her eyes performed what her mind wished and blocked out the rest of the world, trying to listen to an internal voice that seemed so confused it couldn't formulate its own voice.
She listened, instead, to Iason as he spoke. A man who she had known for only a fraction of the time she had been friends and loyal ally of Iris and Aimias. Yet a man whom she trusted to be just and good in all that he did. Whilst it could not be said that he was fully objective in such a discussion, he was perhaps less personally bias than the others involved.
Standing still under his touch, Perse's lips curled a little at his assurances that he would stand by her whatever she chose... Yet all she could do was confirm her lack of choice and indecision.
"I did say that." She agreed with him when he drew up her own words. "And I still do not wish to be queen." She confirmed. It was the only element of her own mind that she was in fact certain of. "I used to think... that I knew what it meant to be a ruler and how best to orchestrate a kingdom for the good of the people. But it was hubris. My father and I. It was our hubris in our own capabilities above others that brought Athenia to this."
Persephone turned slowly in Iason's hold, his touch brushing along her skin as she spun. Her eyes were not sad or self-deprecating in her next words - only honest and open. "I do not think myself wise enough to rule, regardless of my lack of desire."
His words over Iris' assertions to bring the nation to war instead of allowing Elias - a man who was destined to the throne before any law changes were made regardless - to sit upon the throne were understandable. Persephone had felt similarly but she also knew of Iris' fiery spirit and her determination that she would will out the battles and the conflict until victory was in sight. Her faith gave her a guarantee of worth...
Persephone shrugged lightly, her head tilting as she spoke only from the logical stand of such determination.
"The long-standing rule of a cruel king can mean the death of a kingdom." She mused aloud, her words clearly contemplating in temperament. "There is a logic to short term suffrage for long term peace." A light dip appeared between her brows as her hands knotted together in front of her pelvis, her fingers toying over the rims of her nails, before she shifted them to hug herself across her middle, her hands tucked in beneath her upper arms. "Yet, perhaps I am naive, but violence will, I hope, never feel like the natural choice of progress."
Persephone's lashes lowered in a moment of soft reprieve when Iason came forward to brush his fingertips over her skin. Her eyes performed what her mind wished and blocked out the rest of the world, trying to listen to an internal voice that seemed so confused it couldn't formulate its own voice.
She listened, instead, to Iason as he spoke. A man who she had known for only a fraction of the time she had been friends and loyal ally of Iris and Aimias. Yet a man whom she trusted to be just and good in all that he did. Whilst it could not be said that he was fully objective in such a discussion, he was perhaps less personally bias than the others involved.
Standing still under his touch, Perse's lips curled a little at his assurances that he would stand by her whatever she chose... Yet all she could do was confirm her lack of choice and indecision.
"I did say that." She agreed with him when he drew up her own words. "And I still do not wish to be queen." She confirmed. It was the only element of her own mind that she was in fact certain of. "I used to think... that I knew what it meant to be a ruler and how best to orchestrate a kingdom for the good of the people. But it was hubris. My father and I. It was our hubris in our own capabilities above others that brought Athenia to this."
Persephone turned slowly in Iason's hold, his touch brushing along her skin as she spun. Her eyes were not sad or self-deprecating in her next words - only honest and open. "I do not think myself wise enough to rule, regardless of my lack of desire."
His words over Iris' assertions to bring the nation to war instead of allowing Elias - a man who was destined to the throne before any law changes were made regardless - to sit upon the throne were understandable. Persephone had felt similarly but she also knew of Iris' fiery spirit and her determination that she would will out the battles and the conflict until victory was in sight. Her faith gave her a guarantee of worth...
Persephone shrugged lightly, her head tilting as she spoke only from the logical stand of such determination.
"The long-standing rule of a cruel king can mean the death of a kingdom." She mused aloud, her words clearly contemplating in temperament. "There is a logic to short term suffrage for long term peace." A light dip appeared between her brows as her hands knotted together in front of her pelvis, her fingers toying over the rims of her nails, before she shifted them to hug herself across her middle, her hands tucked in beneath her upper arms. "Yet, perhaps I am naive, but violence will, I hope, never feel like the natural choice of progress."
"I do not think myself wise enough to rule, nor is it something I have ever wanted." Blue eyes met dark, serious and without any hint of humor or ease. This was going to be far more complicated than he had hoped if she was willing to give in to the wagging tongues of a disgruntled noblewoman and her consort. He knew well enough that Persephone clearly trusted them both to be allies, but there was something about the pair that made him uneasy. Perhaps he had been home too long with his family, a group of people that were so open and easy to read that it made everyone look like they were hiding something, but here in Athenia the only people he trusted were Demetrius, and Persephone.
"When I agreed to marry you, it was only as the husband of a princess. There was no guarantee that you would take the throne, and if I can speak the honest truth to you now, I swore to wed you in either case, but I prayed that you would not be chosen to succeed your father. Because I have never desired a crown on my head. Being a prince in a kingdom is far different than ever daring to be a king.”
Letting his hands fall from her shoulders, he took a step back as if expecting her to reject him then and there, for expressing the fact that he had never and never would have any desire to rule in any capacity. His barony was enough for him, and now having seen so many thrones in turmoil in recent months, it was not the life he ever wanted for his family. The thought of putting his children through the horrors of what had happened to the Mikaelidas family or the Xanthos was enough to make him want to get back on the boat and sail home. Perhaps she would think him a coward, or spurn his company now, but if she truly wanted to do this, wanted his opinion on the matter, he would not hide any part of him from her now. If she chose to go forward he would follow his oath, fight by her side for what she wanted. But if victory came in reach, he did not foresee any mercy. Anyone who remained as a threat to her and his future children would be eradicated.
”I do not want this. He was set to take the throne before the law changed, and no one had issue with it until you pressed a case against him. I think perhaps if he had not been confronted with that, he might not have resorted to such extremes.” Remaining where he was, Iason was mentally preparing for her to ask him to take another room after all. ”I will follow you whatever you choose. But if I was to make an order on it now with the information we have, I would ask that you relinquish your claim and Emilia’s to the throne and ask that you be allowed to leave the country in peace. Send her a note to see if she is amenable to that, and if she is we should draw up the papers for official abdication.”
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"I do not think myself wise enough to rule, nor is it something I have ever wanted." Blue eyes met dark, serious and without any hint of humor or ease. This was going to be far more complicated than he had hoped if she was willing to give in to the wagging tongues of a disgruntled noblewoman and her consort. He knew well enough that Persephone clearly trusted them both to be allies, but there was something about the pair that made him uneasy. Perhaps he had been home too long with his family, a group of people that were so open and easy to read that it made everyone look like they were hiding something, but here in Athenia the only people he trusted were Demetrius, and Persephone.
"When I agreed to marry you, it was only as the husband of a princess. There was no guarantee that you would take the throne, and if I can speak the honest truth to you now, I swore to wed you in either case, but I prayed that you would not be chosen to succeed your father. Because I have never desired a crown on my head. Being a prince in a kingdom is far different than ever daring to be a king.”
Letting his hands fall from her shoulders, he took a step back as if expecting her to reject him then and there, for expressing the fact that he had never and never would have any desire to rule in any capacity. His barony was enough for him, and now having seen so many thrones in turmoil in recent months, it was not the life he ever wanted for his family. The thought of putting his children through the horrors of what had happened to the Mikaelidas family or the Xanthos was enough to make him want to get back on the boat and sail home. Perhaps she would think him a coward, or spurn his company now, but if she truly wanted to do this, wanted his opinion on the matter, he would not hide any part of him from her now. If she chose to go forward he would follow his oath, fight by her side for what she wanted. But if victory came in reach, he did not foresee any mercy. Anyone who remained as a threat to her and his future children would be eradicated.
”I do not want this. He was set to take the throne before the law changed, and no one had issue with it until you pressed a case against him. I think perhaps if he had not been confronted with that, he might not have resorted to such extremes.” Remaining where he was, Iason was mentally preparing for her to ask him to take another room after all. ”I will follow you whatever you choose. But if I was to make an order on it now with the information we have, I would ask that you relinquish your claim and Emilia’s to the throne and ask that you be allowed to leave the country in peace. Send her a note to see if she is amenable to that, and if she is we should draw up the papers for official abdication.”
"I do not think myself wise enough to rule, nor is it something I have ever wanted." Blue eyes met dark, serious and without any hint of humor or ease. This was going to be far more complicated than he had hoped if she was willing to give in to the wagging tongues of a disgruntled noblewoman and her consort. He knew well enough that Persephone clearly trusted them both to be allies, but there was something about the pair that made him uneasy. Perhaps he had been home too long with his family, a group of people that were so open and easy to read that it made everyone look like they were hiding something, but here in Athenia the only people he trusted were Demetrius, and Persephone.
"When I agreed to marry you, it was only as the husband of a princess. There was no guarantee that you would take the throne, and if I can speak the honest truth to you now, I swore to wed you in either case, but I prayed that you would not be chosen to succeed your father. Because I have never desired a crown on my head. Being a prince in a kingdom is far different than ever daring to be a king.”
Letting his hands fall from her shoulders, he took a step back as if expecting her to reject him then and there, for expressing the fact that he had never and never would have any desire to rule in any capacity. His barony was enough for him, and now having seen so many thrones in turmoil in recent months, it was not the life he ever wanted for his family. The thought of putting his children through the horrors of what had happened to the Mikaelidas family or the Xanthos was enough to make him want to get back on the boat and sail home. Perhaps she would think him a coward, or spurn his company now, but if she truly wanted to do this, wanted his opinion on the matter, he would not hide any part of him from her now. If she chose to go forward he would follow his oath, fight by her side for what she wanted. But if victory came in reach, he did not foresee any mercy. Anyone who remained as a threat to her and his future children would be eradicated.
”I do not want this. He was set to take the throne before the law changed, and no one had issue with it until you pressed a case against him. I think perhaps if he had not been confronted with that, he might not have resorted to such extremes.” Remaining where he was, Iason was mentally preparing for her to ask him to take another room after all. ”I will follow you whatever you choose. But if I was to make an order on it now with the information we have, I would ask that you relinquish your claim and Emilia’s to the throne and ask that you be allowed to leave the country in peace. Send her a note to see if she is amenable to that, and if she is we should draw up the papers for official abdication.”
When Iason's hands fell away from her shoulders, Persephone's own were too pinned beneath her arms in a self-embrace to reach out to them but her frame leaned in a lingering sense, trying to maintain the touch between them a little longer.
If Iason felt that his expression of such a lacking ambition to be King was somehow a means of disappointing her than he was sorely mistaken.
Back when Persephone had approached the idea - so simple and logical a plan: to become engaged as a means of another element of strength behind the Xanthos claim to the throne - there had been many a man who had sought her hand almost solely through the desire to be King. It hadn't mattered to them that such an eventuality was a fluctuating chance or that it would involve the political upheaval of her kingdom. The idea of prefacing their title with a 'your majesty' was too tempting an offer for them to not reach for with all haste.
Instead, the letter from Gavriil of Dimitrou had been one of calm suggestion, mutual benefit and a general lack of tensions and dramatic urgency to see his son become King. When she had met Iason, the same characteristics had been clear in the son as there had been in the father.
Persephone hadn't wanted to marry a man who was desperate to be crowned king. Her father had always said that those who sought power were never the ones who should hold it. She had always seen Iason's lack of care for any crown about his temples as a factor in his favour - never a detractor.
And yet now...
Now the choice was not so clear.
For she was not at all offended by Iason's determinations that she should abdicate her claim to the throne. That she should give up her sister's claim in the same manner and bow Xanthos out of the Athenian political sphere as quietly and as peacefully as she could.
She understood why he was making such suggestions. She could see the logic. Part of her was hurt that he didn't immediately jump to opposition - that she was wise enough to rule and that her family hadn't been the instigator of this whole mess. But she had asked for his thoughts and he had given them and she could not afford offence for that.
Instead, she smiled a little and nodded in understanding if not in agreement.
"Yet, such a course of action would lead me to abandon those who have been loyal to my father and to I." She added in a low voice. "The make a choice upon my sister's future without her consent... to put my desires above that of others..." She winced at the very idea.
Persephone's arms squeezed tighter around herself for a moment before one unfurled to run her fingers through her hair in frustration, the long, shining lengths tumbling free over her shoulders now...
"There is no answer that does not see someone suffer." She concluded, without much hope of a resolution that night. She glanced at Iason and then away quickly. "You must regret your union with a woman who leaves such chaos in her wake." She sighed, her arms folding back around her and her eyes closing in that same desire to block out the world that had been left for her to clean...
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When Iason's hands fell away from her shoulders, Persephone's own were too pinned beneath her arms in a self-embrace to reach out to them but her frame leaned in a lingering sense, trying to maintain the touch between them a little longer.
If Iason felt that his expression of such a lacking ambition to be King was somehow a means of disappointing her than he was sorely mistaken.
Back when Persephone had approached the idea - so simple and logical a plan: to become engaged as a means of another element of strength behind the Xanthos claim to the throne - there had been many a man who had sought her hand almost solely through the desire to be King. It hadn't mattered to them that such an eventuality was a fluctuating chance or that it would involve the political upheaval of her kingdom. The idea of prefacing their title with a 'your majesty' was too tempting an offer for them to not reach for with all haste.
Instead, the letter from Gavriil of Dimitrou had been one of calm suggestion, mutual benefit and a general lack of tensions and dramatic urgency to see his son become King. When she had met Iason, the same characteristics had been clear in the son as there had been in the father.
Persephone hadn't wanted to marry a man who was desperate to be crowned king. Her father had always said that those who sought power were never the ones who should hold it. She had always seen Iason's lack of care for any crown about his temples as a factor in his favour - never a detractor.
And yet now...
Now the choice was not so clear.
For she was not at all offended by Iason's determinations that she should abdicate her claim to the throne. That she should give up her sister's claim in the same manner and bow Xanthos out of the Athenian political sphere as quietly and as peacefully as she could.
She understood why he was making such suggestions. She could see the logic. Part of her was hurt that he didn't immediately jump to opposition - that she was wise enough to rule and that her family hadn't been the instigator of this whole mess. But she had asked for his thoughts and he had given them and she could not afford offence for that.
Instead, she smiled a little and nodded in understanding if not in agreement.
"Yet, such a course of action would lead me to abandon those who have been loyal to my father and to I." She added in a low voice. "The make a choice upon my sister's future without her consent... to put my desires above that of others..." She winced at the very idea.
Persephone's arms squeezed tighter around herself for a moment before one unfurled to run her fingers through her hair in frustration, the long, shining lengths tumbling free over her shoulders now...
"There is no answer that does not see someone suffer." She concluded, without much hope of a resolution that night. She glanced at Iason and then away quickly. "You must regret your union with a woman who leaves such chaos in her wake." She sighed, her arms folding back around her and her eyes closing in that same desire to block out the world that had been left for her to clean...
When Iason's hands fell away from her shoulders, Persephone's own were too pinned beneath her arms in a self-embrace to reach out to them but her frame leaned in a lingering sense, trying to maintain the touch between them a little longer.
If Iason felt that his expression of such a lacking ambition to be King was somehow a means of disappointing her than he was sorely mistaken.
Back when Persephone had approached the idea - so simple and logical a plan: to become engaged as a means of another element of strength behind the Xanthos claim to the throne - there had been many a man who had sought her hand almost solely through the desire to be King. It hadn't mattered to them that such an eventuality was a fluctuating chance or that it would involve the political upheaval of her kingdom. The idea of prefacing their title with a 'your majesty' was too tempting an offer for them to not reach for with all haste.
Instead, the letter from Gavriil of Dimitrou had been one of calm suggestion, mutual benefit and a general lack of tensions and dramatic urgency to see his son become King. When she had met Iason, the same characteristics had been clear in the son as there had been in the father.
Persephone hadn't wanted to marry a man who was desperate to be crowned king. Her father had always said that those who sought power were never the ones who should hold it. She had always seen Iason's lack of care for any crown about his temples as a factor in his favour - never a detractor.
And yet now...
Now the choice was not so clear.
For she was not at all offended by Iason's determinations that she should abdicate her claim to the throne. That she should give up her sister's claim in the same manner and bow Xanthos out of the Athenian political sphere as quietly and as peacefully as she could.
She understood why he was making such suggestions. She could see the logic. Part of her was hurt that he didn't immediately jump to opposition - that she was wise enough to rule and that her family hadn't been the instigator of this whole mess. But she had asked for his thoughts and he had given them and she could not afford offence for that.
Instead, she smiled a little and nodded in understanding if not in agreement.
"Yet, such a course of action would lead me to abandon those who have been loyal to my father and to I." She added in a low voice. "The make a choice upon my sister's future without her consent... to put my desires above that of others..." She winced at the very idea.
Persephone's arms squeezed tighter around herself for a moment before one unfurled to run her fingers through her hair in frustration, the long, shining lengths tumbling free over her shoulders now...
"There is no answer that does not see someone suffer." She concluded, without much hope of a resolution that night. She glanced at Iason and then away quickly. "You must regret your union with a woman who leaves such chaos in her wake." She sighed, her arms folding back around her and her eyes closing in that same desire to block out the world that had been left for her to clean...
"They made their choices as others have done the same. While you can give them the respect and gratitude they deserve, if it means soaking the country in blood and losing lives for something there is no guarantee we can win, I would ask you to consider what your father would think of that."
He hadn't known the old king for long, only in brief meetings had he managed to get a feel for the king, but Minas had not seemed to be the sort who would willingly throw his family and country into war unnecessarily. Yes, Persephone would have been a great queen, and had there been no opposition, had they not been attacked on the night of her coronation and she had been given a chance, there would have been merit to his decision. But given everything that had happened, with the people left without an idea of her reign and how it might be better or worse, there was no way of knowing if this would be worth it.
"The impassioned words of one woman, no matter how close she was to you, cannot outweigh the opinion of an entire country. If the people have no issue with the rule of Elias, and it is only a few disgruntled nobles, they must learn to accept the way of the world." Perhaps that was a uniquely Dimitrou way to look at the issue, these men who preferred to work alongside their citizens and treat them all if not as equals, then at least more than simple serfs to do their bidding. If the Athenian people were content, he saw no reason to shake things up and shed blood for nothing. Nobility were in a different tier, and had the ability to pay for others to die for their causes, the normal people did not have that luxury. He would not ask others to fight for him, not unless he was marching out at their side.
Looking Persephone over, Iason gave a sigh and shuffled a hand through his hair, wondering if his attempts at reason were actually getting through or falling on deaf ears. Since the talk with the others he'd feared the shift back to the woman of stone he had first met, afraid that he would lose the woman he loved to the pull of her title once more. Her assertion that there was not an option without someone left to suffer had him nodding. It was true, someone would suffer in the end, but it was now a choice between whether it would be the many or the few.
"Consider who you are asking to suffer. Is it the bulk of the people of Athenia, or a few nobles who will perhaps not rise as far in Elias' court as they might in yours? If you abdicate, there is no reason to retaliate against them. Only if you fight this would he have any reason to cause them harm if he has not done so already. I will fight if that is what you want, but please. Persephone. Think about the people who's backs must be stepped upon in order to take something you do not want. We do not want."
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"They made their choices as others have done the same. While you can give them the respect and gratitude they deserve, if it means soaking the country in blood and losing lives for something there is no guarantee we can win, I would ask you to consider what your father would think of that."
He hadn't known the old king for long, only in brief meetings had he managed to get a feel for the king, but Minas had not seemed to be the sort who would willingly throw his family and country into war unnecessarily. Yes, Persephone would have been a great queen, and had there been no opposition, had they not been attacked on the night of her coronation and she had been given a chance, there would have been merit to his decision. But given everything that had happened, with the people left without an idea of her reign and how it might be better or worse, there was no way of knowing if this would be worth it.
"The impassioned words of one woman, no matter how close she was to you, cannot outweigh the opinion of an entire country. If the people have no issue with the rule of Elias, and it is only a few disgruntled nobles, they must learn to accept the way of the world." Perhaps that was a uniquely Dimitrou way to look at the issue, these men who preferred to work alongside their citizens and treat them all if not as equals, then at least more than simple serfs to do their bidding. If the Athenian people were content, he saw no reason to shake things up and shed blood for nothing. Nobility were in a different tier, and had the ability to pay for others to die for their causes, the normal people did not have that luxury. He would not ask others to fight for him, not unless he was marching out at their side.
Looking Persephone over, Iason gave a sigh and shuffled a hand through his hair, wondering if his attempts at reason were actually getting through or falling on deaf ears. Since the talk with the others he'd feared the shift back to the woman of stone he had first met, afraid that he would lose the woman he loved to the pull of her title once more. Her assertion that there was not an option without someone left to suffer had him nodding. It was true, someone would suffer in the end, but it was now a choice between whether it would be the many or the few.
"Consider who you are asking to suffer. Is it the bulk of the people of Athenia, or a few nobles who will perhaps not rise as far in Elias' court as they might in yours? If you abdicate, there is no reason to retaliate against them. Only if you fight this would he have any reason to cause them harm if he has not done so already. I will fight if that is what you want, but please. Persephone. Think about the people who's backs must be stepped upon in order to take something you do not want. We do not want."
"They made their choices as others have done the same. While you can give them the respect and gratitude they deserve, if it means soaking the country in blood and losing lives for something there is no guarantee we can win, I would ask you to consider what your father would think of that."
He hadn't known the old king for long, only in brief meetings had he managed to get a feel for the king, but Minas had not seemed to be the sort who would willingly throw his family and country into war unnecessarily. Yes, Persephone would have been a great queen, and had there been no opposition, had they not been attacked on the night of her coronation and she had been given a chance, there would have been merit to his decision. But given everything that had happened, with the people left without an idea of her reign and how it might be better or worse, there was no way of knowing if this would be worth it.
"The impassioned words of one woman, no matter how close she was to you, cannot outweigh the opinion of an entire country. If the people have no issue with the rule of Elias, and it is only a few disgruntled nobles, they must learn to accept the way of the world." Perhaps that was a uniquely Dimitrou way to look at the issue, these men who preferred to work alongside their citizens and treat them all if not as equals, then at least more than simple serfs to do their bidding. If the Athenian people were content, he saw no reason to shake things up and shed blood for nothing. Nobility were in a different tier, and had the ability to pay for others to die for their causes, the normal people did not have that luxury. He would not ask others to fight for him, not unless he was marching out at their side.
Looking Persephone over, Iason gave a sigh and shuffled a hand through his hair, wondering if his attempts at reason were actually getting through or falling on deaf ears. Since the talk with the others he'd feared the shift back to the woman of stone he had first met, afraid that he would lose the woman he loved to the pull of her title once more. Her assertion that there was not an option without someone left to suffer had him nodding. It was true, someone would suffer in the end, but it was now a choice between whether it would be the many or the few.
"Consider who you are asking to suffer. Is it the bulk of the people of Athenia, or a few nobles who will perhaps not rise as far in Elias' court as they might in yours? If you abdicate, there is no reason to retaliate against them. Only if you fight this would he have any reason to cause them harm if he has not done so already. I will fight if that is what you want, but please. Persephone. Think about the people who's backs must be stepped upon in order to take something you do not want. We do not want."
Persephone was listening. Whilst her features might not have read it, might not have displayed her inner thoughts, this was only due to her tutoring and upbringing. When feeling vulnerable, when thinking over a sensitive topic, her facial expressions shut down so as not to reveal her intentions to the politicians she was so used to dealing with. She didn't even realise that she was doing it. Had she known that she was making Iason feel shut out of her mind and her decisions, she would have altered her mannerisms. But something that was so ingrained for so long and from such a young age.... it was hardly an obvious or easy thing to notice and change.
Instead, Persephone stood and listened and absorbed. What her betrothed said was entirely true. What he argued was logical and valued and... surprisingly objective. He did not ask that she favour him; that she choose him over a crown. That she went back with him to Taengea and lived a quiet life as his wife and baroness. He suggested it. But he did not try to sway or persuade. He truly was leaving the choice down to her.
Which was more than Iris had done.
Dismissing the thought as churlish and unfair - a by-product of a defensive moment of emotion at having returned to Athenia to find things not as they were - Persephone swallowed and looked to Iason with a nod.
"Agreed." She stated simply. "I had resigned myself already to not form a decision on a single testimonial - in one night of discovery." She said this with a soft smile. Her father had taught her better than to make rash decisions based on impulsive feeling. "But I think you have clarified the necessary parameters." She nodded as if she were making a mental promise to herself and then looked towards Iason.
"We shall investigate further." She stated, agreeing with him and his caution. "If the people are content... if the difficulties fall onto a small minority then, regardless of loyalties, I would not resign a kingdom of people to bloodshed for the sake of a few." She frowned a little, her jaw tightening at the idea of leaving people she cared for in dire straits - even when she knew it was the right thing to do. "I do not relish any form of war. And neither did my father."
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Persephone was listening. Whilst her features might not have read it, might not have displayed her inner thoughts, this was only due to her tutoring and upbringing. When feeling vulnerable, when thinking over a sensitive topic, her facial expressions shut down so as not to reveal her intentions to the politicians she was so used to dealing with. She didn't even realise that she was doing it. Had she known that she was making Iason feel shut out of her mind and her decisions, she would have altered her mannerisms. But something that was so ingrained for so long and from such a young age.... it was hardly an obvious or easy thing to notice and change.
Instead, Persephone stood and listened and absorbed. What her betrothed said was entirely true. What he argued was logical and valued and... surprisingly objective. He did not ask that she favour him; that she choose him over a crown. That she went back with him to Taengea and lived a quiet life as his wife and baroness. He suggested it. But he did not try to sway or persuade. He truly was leaving the choice down to her.
Which was more than Iris had done.
Dismissing the thought as churlish and unfair - a by-product of a defensive moment of emotion at having returned to Athenia to find things not as they were - Persephone swallowed and looked to Iason with a nod.
"Agreed." She stated simply. "I had resigned myself already to not form a decision on a single testimonial - in one night of discovery." She said this with a soft smile. Her father had taught her better than to make rash decisions based on impulsive feeling. "But I think you have clarified the necessary parameters." She nodded as if she were making a mental promise to herself and then looked towards Iason.
"We shall investigate further." She stated, agreeing with him and his caution. "If the people are content... if the difficulties fall onto a small minority then, regardless of loyalties, I would not resign a kingdom of people to bloodshed for the sake of a few." She frowned a little, her jaw tightening at the idea of leaving people she cared for in dire straits - even when she knew it was the right thing to do. "I do not relish any form of war. And neither did my father."
Persephone was listening. Whilst her features might not have read it, might not have displayed her inner thoughts, this was only due to her tutoring and upbringing. When feeling vulnerable, when thinking over a sensitive topic, her facial expressions shut down so as not to reveal her intentions to the politicians she was so used to dealing with. She didn't even realise that she was doing it. Had she known that she was making Iason feel shut out of her mind and her decisions, she would have altered her mannerisms. But something that was so ingrained for so long and from such a young age.... it was hardly an obvious or easy thing to notice and change.
Instead, Persephone stood and listened and absorbed. What her betrothed said was entirely true. What he argued was logical and valued and... surprisingly objective. He did not ask that she favour him; that she choose him over a crown. That she went back with him to Taengea and lived a quiet life as his wife and baroness. He suggested it. But he did not try to sway or persuade. He truly was leaving the choice down to her.
Which was more than Iris had done.
Dismissing the thought as churlish and unfair - a by-product of a defensive moment of emotion at having returned to Athenia to find things not as they were - Persephone swallowed and looked to Iason with a nod.
"Agreed." She stated simply. "I had resigned myself already to not form a decision on a single testimonial - in one night of discovery." She said this with a soft smile. Her father had taught her better than to make rash decisions based on impulsive feeling. "But I think you have clarified the necessary parameters." She nodded as if she were making a mental promise to herself and then looked towards Iason.
"We shall investigate further." She stated, agreeing with him and his caution. "If the people are content... if the difficulties fall onto a small minority then, regardless of loyalties, I would not resign a kingdom of people to bloodshed for the sake of a few." She frowned a little, her jaw tightening at the idea of leaving people she cared for in dire straits - even when she knew it was the right thing to do. "I do not relish any form of war. And neither did my father."
It felt as if he had been holding a breath of tension, waiting for some sort of response. He wasn't usually one to give speeches, indeed it was perhaps the most he'd spoken since they had left Taengea, and saying so much while receiving so little in return had been nerve wracking. The soft smile on her lips allowed him to release even further and this time he blew out the breath entirely, a smile given to her in exchange. This did not have to be the bloody battle that Iris seemed to be baying for, and to hear that she was as opposed to the thought as he was a comfort. They could do plenty for those nobles that might be impacted, there was always safety in Taengea or Colchis, or they could simply learn to be content in their homelands.
The world at large had been through enough turmoil in changing monarchs, it would be better for at least one Grecian kingdom to stay sane for longer than a month at a time. He had two cousins on thrones now and no desire to fight for one of his own, it was better suited to both Vangelis and Achilleas to rule. Perhaps that was a fault of spending most of his time in the country, or his father was to blame for instilling a sense of honor and responsibility in him instead of ambition. He had always been prepared to support a crown, take on a role as a senator, but never as king himself. If it was the only thing that would make her happy, to take back her place, then he knew he would die to get her there, but until then, they deserved a moment of rest.
Holding out his hand, he reached for her own and brought it to his lips. The strain of the journey, the ride through the rain, and now the serious discussions that had taken over their evening would wear on them both if they didn't sleep. If a battle was to come their nights of proper slumber would be coming to an end.
"I have faith in your choice. Whatever it may be. You have my word I will be by your side. For now though, to bed I think. We can save the world tomorrow." It would be a relief to sleep in a decent bed again. Though they had both dressed simply for the day, he took it upon himself to act as maid to her, silently guiding her close to the bed and undoing the belt to her chiton before kneeling before her. Lifting one of her feet against his knee, he worked at the ties to free her, focused entirely on trying to bring her some sort of relief and distraction from the stresses of the day without asking too much in return.
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It felt as if he had been holding a breath of tension, waiting for some sort of response. He wasn't usually one to give speeches, indeed it was perhaps the most he'd spoken since they had left Taengea, and saying so much while receiving so little in return had been nerve wracking. The soft smile on her lips allowed him to release even further and this time he blew out the breath entirely, a smile given to her in exchange. This did not have to be the bloody battle that Iris seemed to be baying for, and to hear that she was as opposed to the thought as he was a comfort. They could do plenty for those nobles that might be impacted, there was always safety in Taengea or Colchis, or they could simply learn to be content in their homelands.
The world at large had been through enough turmoil in changing monarchs, it would be better for at least one Grecian kingdom to stay sane for longer than a month at a time. He had two cousins on thrones now and no desire to fight for one of his own, it was better suited to both Vangelis and Achilleas to rule. Perhaps that was a fault of spending most of his time in the country, or his father was to blame for instilling a sense of honor and responsibility in him instead of ambition. He had always been prepared to support a crown, take on a role as a senator, but never as king himself. If it was the only thing that would make her happy, to take back her place, then he knew he would die to get her there, but until then, they deserved a moment of rest.
Holding out his hand, he reached for her own and brought it to his lips. The strain of the journey, the ride through the rain, and now the serious discussions that had taken over their evening would wear on them both if they didn't sleep. If a battle was to come their nights of proper slumber would be coming to an end.
"I have faith in your choice. Whatever it may be. You have my word I will be by your side. For now though, to bed I think. We can save the world tomorrow." It would be a relief to sleep in a decent bed again. Though they had both dressed simply for the day, he took it upon himself to act as maid to her, silently guiding her close to the bed and undoing the belt to her chiton before kneeling before her. Lifting one of her feet against his knee, he worked at the ties to free her, focused entirely on trying to bring her some sort of relief and distraction from the stresses of the day without asking too much in return.
It felt as if he had been holding a breath of tension, waiting for some sort of response. He wasn't usually one to give speeches, indeed it was perhaps the most he'd spoken since they had left Taengea, and saying so much while receiving so little in return had been nerve wracking. The soft smile on her lips allowed him to release even further and this time he blew out the breath entirely, a smile given to her in exchange. This did not have to be the bloody battle that Iris seemed to be baying for, and to hear that she was as opposed to the thought as he was a comfort. They could do plenty for those nobles that might be impacted, there was always safety in Taengea or Colchis, or they could simply learn to be content in their homelands.
The world at large had been through enough turmoil in changing monarchs, it would be better for at least one Grecian kingdom to stay sane for longer than a month at a time. He had two cousins on thrones now and no desire to fight for one of his own, it was better suited to both Vangelis and Achilleas to rule. Perhaps that was a fault of spending most of his time in the country, or his father was to blame for instilling a sense of honor and responsibility in him instead of ambition. He had always been prepared to support a crown, take on a role as a senator, but never as king himself. If it was the only thing that would make her happy, to take back her place, then he knew he would die to get her there, but until then, they deserved a moment of rest.
Holding out his hand, he reached for her own and brought it to his lips. The strain of the journey, the ride through the rain, and now the serious discussions that had taken over their evening would wear on them both if they didn't sleep. If a battle was to come their nights of proper slumber would be coming to an end.
"I have faith in your choice. Whatever it may be. You have my word I will be by your side. For now though, to bed I think. We can save the world tomorrow." It would be a relief to sleep in a decent bed again. Though they had both dressed simply for the day, he took it upon himself to act as maid to her, silently guiding her close to the bed and undoing the belt to her chiton before kneeling before her. Lifting one of her feet against his knee, he worked at the ties to free her, focused entirely on trying to bring her some sort of relief and distraction from the stresses of the day without asking too much in return.
Persephone watched as Iason released his tension and smiled softly at the look of relief on his face. Yes, she had made the right choice in her betrothed. For a man eager to go to war - regardless of how courageous that may be in the opinion of so many - was not a man who should be king. A man willing to fight and to charge into battle made a good soldier. But not a good leader. That was the lesson she had learnt at her father's knee. That such qualities were brave and commendable for those who fought on the behalf of others. But that those who were to stand at the top of a social pyramid - who were to lead their people - had to be slow to anger, slow to violence.
Whether they fought for the crown or not, Iason's preference not to was all Persephone needed to be assured that she had made the right choice in her man at the very beginning of all of this. Even with how it had all turned on its head since then.
When Iason moved over to take her hand, drawing it to his lips and offering her a kiss that set her smiling, Persephone felt tiredness seep over her limbs. She had been standing, arguing, discussing and thinking herself into circles for so many hours now. Had been twisting her guilt and morals into knots for so many days. Ever since she had known of her sister being alive. Ever since Iris had told her of all that she had left her kingdom to. She was tired.
As Iason stepped forward, touching her hand and entangling their fingers as if it were his sole purpose to care for her digits and her touch - the softness of her skin - for felt a sense of relaxation. The feeling of letting go. With Iason's strong frame and broad shoulders now taking up her view, his hand on hers, it was as if he were physically lifting the burden from her shoulders and setting it to one side. Turning her focus upon herself, upon them. It made her muscles release and her body feel weak with fatigue.
With such a languid feeling to her limbs, it was easy for Iason to draw her towards the side of the large bed that had been set for their use. Her eyes closed, her lashes brushing shadows over her cheekbones as she felt the backs of Iason's knuckles at her waist, his touch brushing her through the silks as he unfastened the sash around her middle. The fabric dropped to the floor, rippling softly over her toes and allowing the chiton to hang loose around her frame.
Goosebumps rose on her skin as Iason sank to his knees, one upturned thigh supporting her foot as he lifted her sandal to his leg. His fingers worked at the knots in the kid straps and Persephone tilted her hips and sunk down to sit upon the edge of the bed. From this height, she could reach out and brush the thick strands of dark hair from Iason's temple, her knuckles brushing at his ear and drawing down towards his jawline. Her smile was soft on her face, her thoughts perhaps miles away as she allowed him to treat her like a princess. She had had such a treatment for so many years... and yet it felt entirely different when Iason offered her such worship... It set her toes curling...
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Persephone watched as Iason released his tension and smiled softly at the look of relief on his face. Yes, she had made the right choice in her betrothed. For a man eager to go to war - regardless of how courageous that may be in the opinion of so many - was not a man who should be king. A man willing to fight and to charge into battle made a good soldier. But not a good leader. That was the lesson she had learnt at her father's knee. That such qualities were brave and commendable for those who fought on the behalf of others. But that those who were to stand at the top of a social pyramid - who were to lead their people - had to be slow to anger, slow to violence.
Whether they fought for the crown or not, Iason's preference not to was all Persephone needed to be assured that she had made the right choice in her man at the very beginning of all of this. Even with how it had all turned on its head since then.
When Iason moved over to take her hand, drawing it to his lips and offering her a kiss that set her smiling, Persephone felt tiredness seep over her limbs. She had been standing, arguing, discussing and thinking herself into circles for so many hours now. Had been twisting her guilt and morals into knots for so many days. Ever since she had known of her sister being alive. Ever since Iris had told her of all that she had left her kingdom to. She was tired.
As Iason stepped forward, touching her hand and entangling their fingers as if it were his sole purpose to care for her digits and her touch - the softness of her skin - for felt a sense of relaxation. The feeling of letting go. With Iason's strong frame and broad shoulders now taking up her view, his hand on hers, it was as if he were physically lifting the burden from her shoulders and setting it to one side. Turning her focus upon herself, upon them. It made her muscles release and her body feel weak with fatigue.
With such a languid feeling to her limbs, it was easy for Iason to draw her towards the side of the large bed that had been set for their use. Her eyes closed, her lashes brushing shadows over her cheekbones as she felt the backs of Iason's knuckles at her waist, his touch brushing her through the silks as he unfastened the sash around her middle. The fabric dropped to the floor, rippling softly over her toes and allowing the chiton to hang loose around her frame.
Goosebumps rose on her skin as Iason sank to his knees, one upturned thigh supporting her foot as he lifted her sandal to his leg. His fingers worked at the knots in the kid straps and Persephone tilted her hips and sunk down to sit upon the edge of the bed. From this height, she could reach out and brush the thick strands of dark hair from Iason's temple, her knuckles brushing at his ear and drawing down towards his jawline. Her smile was soft on her face, her thoughts perhaps miles away as she allowed him to treat her like a princess. She had had such a treatment for so many years... and yet it felt entirely different when Iason offered her such worship... It set her toes curling...
Persephone watched as Iason released his tension and smiled softly at the look of relief on his face. Yes, she had made the right choice in her betrothed. For a man eager to go to war - regardless of how courageous that may be in the opinion of so many - was not a man who should be king. A man willing to fight and to charge into battle made a good soldier. But not a good leader. That was the lesson she had learnt at her father's knee. That such qualities were brave and commendable for those who fought on the behalf of others. But that those who were to stand at the top of a social pyramid - who were to lead their people - had to be slow to anger, slow to violence.
Whether they fought for the crown or not, Iason's preference not to was all Persephone needed to be assured that she had made the right choice in her man at the very beginning of all of this. Even with how it had all turned on its head since then.
When Iason moved over to take her hand, drawing it to his lips and offering her a kiss that set her smiling, Persephone felt tiredness seep over her limbs. She had been standing, arguing, discussing and thinking herself into circles for so many hours now. Had been twisting her guilt and morals into knots for so many days. Ever since she had known of her sister being alive. Ever since Iris had told her of all that she had left her kingdom to. She was tired.
As Iason stepped forward, touching her hand and entangling their fingers as if it were his sole purpose to care for her digits and her touch - the softness of her skin - for felt a sense of relaxation. The feeling of letting go. With Iason's strong frame and broad shoulders now taking up her view, his hand on hers, it was as if he were physically lifting the burden from her shoulders and setting it to one side. Turning her focus upon herself, upon them. It made her muscles release and her body feel weak with fatigue.
With such a languid feeling to her limbs, it was easy for Iason to draw her towards the side of the large bed that had been set for their use. Her eyes closed, her lashes brushing shadows over her cheekbones as she felt the backs of Iason's knuckles at her waist, his touch brushing her through the silks as he unfastened the sash around her middle. The fabric dropped to the floor, rippling softly over her toes and allowing the chiton to hang loose around her frame.
Goosebumps rose on her skin as Iason sank to his knees, one upturned thigh supporting her foot as he lifted her sandal to his leg. His fingers worked at the knots in the kid straps and Persephone tilted her hips and sunk down to sit upon the edge of the bed. From this height, she could reach out and brush the thick strands of dark hair from Iason's temple, her knuckles brushing at his ear and drawing down towards his jawline. Her smile was soft on her face, her thoughts perhaps miles away as she allowed him to treat her like a princess. She had had such a treatment for so many years... and yet it felt entirely different when Iason offered her such worship... It set her toes curling...
It was a relief to see the smile she gave him, and he could almost see the weight lifting from her. To know that he could give that to her, bring her any sort of relief from the anxieties and stress upon her, it was a far better affirmation of his manhood than anything else. To be able to care for his wife in every sense was what he had learned from his father, and however he might have been mocked by fellows who had been raised as soldiers for being so gentle, it was enough for him to see he was doing something right.
Unwinding the straps from her feet, he leaned into her hand as she brushed her fingers through his hair, his own eyes closing for a moment before he returned to the task at hand. He set the sandal aside, gently running his hands along the marks left by even the softest of straps, massaging the foot on his lap and up her calf to try to unwind the tension there. They'd done enough pacing and riding for the day that his own were sore, and he had far more practice at putting his body through such things than her.
Only once he was satisfied that he had offered some relief did he reach for the other, content to stay on his knee before her as he unwound the straps of her second sandal to give the same treatment. His focus was entirely on the task he'd set himself, allowing it to be almost meditative as he cared for his partner. He hoped that one day they might return to Taengea where there was less stress upon their shoulders, where they might spend the day lingering in the garden together or on the sweeping lawn before the manor at Chaoedia. Moments like this more frequent together.
"Lay back."
Iason lifted both of her feet onto the bed, giving gentle direction in his attempts to relax her into sleep. Once she was tucked atop the sheets he kicked off his own shoes without care, joining her in the bed and pressing her over onto her stomach. His hands might have been inexperienced as they ran over her neck and shoulders, but it was the least he felt he could do. His only duties here were to support and follow her, the decisions made would affect him, but only so far as they did her, and if this helped ease her to sleep and clear sighted rest, it would be all the better for them in the end.
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It was a relief to see the smile she gave him, and he could almost see the weight lifting from her. To know that he could give that to her, bring her any sort of relief from the anxieties and stress upon her, it was a far better affirmation of his manhood than anything else. To be able to care for his wife in every sense was what he had learned from his father, and however he might have been mocked by fellows who had been raised as soldiers for being so gentle, it was enough for him to see he was doing something right.
Unwinding the straps from her feet, he leaned into her hand as she brushed her fingers through his hair, his own eyes closing for a moment before he returned to the task at hand. He set the sandal aside, gently running his hands along the marks left by even the softest of straps, massaging the foot on his lap and up her calf to try to unwind the tension there. They'd done enough pacing and riding for the day that his own were sore, and he had far more practice at putting his body through such things than her.
Only once he was satisfied that he had offered some relief did he reach for the other, content to stay on his knee before her as he unwound the straps of her second sandal to give the same treatment. His focus was entirely on the task he'd set himself, allowing it to be almost meditative as he cared for his partner. He hoped that one day they might return to Taengea where there was less stress upon their shoulders, where they might spend the day lingering in the garden together or on the sweeping lawn before the manor at Chaoedia. Moments like this more frequent together.
"Lay back."
Iason lifted both of her feet onto the bed, giving gentle direction in his attempts to relax her into sleep. Once she was tucked atop the sheets he kicked off his own shoes without care, joining her in the bed and pressing her over onto her stomach. His hands might have been inexperienced as they ran over her neck and shoulders, but it was the least he felt he could do. His only duties here were to support and follow her, the decisions made would affect him, but only so far as they did her, and if this helped ease her to sleep and clear sighted rest, it would be all the better for them in the end.
It was a relief to see the smile she gave him, and he could almost see the weight lifting from her. To know that he could give that to her, bring her any sort of relief from the anxieties and stress upon her, it was a far better affirmation of his manhood than anything else. To be able to care for his wife in every sense was what he had learned from his father, and however he might have been mocked by fellows who had been raised as soldiers for being so gentle, it was enough for him to see he was doing something right.
Unwinding the straps from her feet, he leaned into her hand as she brushed her fingers through his hair, his own eyes closing for a moment before he returned to the task at hand. He set the sandal aside, gently running his hands along the marks left by even the softest of straps, massaging the foot on his lap and up her calf to try to unwind the tension there. They'd done enough pacing and riding for the day that his own were sore, and he had far more practice at putting his body through such things than her.
Only once he was satisfied that he had offered some relief did he reach for the other, content to stay on his knee before her as he unwound the straps of her second sandal to give the same treatment. His focus was entirely on the task he'd set himself, allowing it to be almost meditative as he cared for his partner. He hoped that one day they might return to Taengea where there was less stress upon their shoulders, where they might spend the day lingering in the garden together or on the sweeping lawn before the manor at Chaoedia. Moments like this more frequent together.
"Lay back."
Iason lifted both of her feet onto the bed, giving gentle direction in his attempts to relax her into sleep. Once she was tucked atop the sheets he kicked off his own shoes without care, joining her in the bed and pressing her over onto her stomach. His hands might have been inexperienced as they ran over her neck and shoulders, but it was the least he felt he could do. His only duties here were to support and follow her, the decisions made would affect him, but only so far as they did her, and if this helped ease her to sleep and clear sighted rest, it would be all the better for them in the end.
Persephone was used to being cared for. But not entirely in manners such as this. Her lady’s maids, the servants, slaves and guardsmen of her palace had all been sworn to loyalty to the crown and to she. It was part of their duties - all of them - that her safety and her needs were catered to in every possible manner. If she were hungry, food of the highest quality was to be provided. If she were tired, then she was permitted hours of rest in a bed that was large and comfortable. If her life were in any form of danger, such a threat was eradicated before it could burden her existence. Not including the stressors of ruling a kingdom and the trauma of losing members of her family, Persephone's life had been one of carefree luxury when it came down to the pragmatics of living.
And yet, all of those people were at Persephone's command. Which meant that it was only if she recognised her need within herself that it was seen to. If food was to be brought - however high in quality and preparation and fixed to her taste - it required her to recognise her hunger and order that such things be brought to her. If she was determined that she would not sleep until certain work had been completed, her maids and servants and aides could not override her otherwise. Which meant that, in truth, Persephone in fact looked after herself. Such a luxury of having others wait upon her hand and foot was an illusion. She operated as her own guardian and did so with a mentality that often placed her own desires and needs lower down the list of priorities than they should have been.
Yet, the role of a husband was different.
Regardless of whether Persephone became Queen of Athenia or a baroness in Taengea... Iason was to be her husband and her master. She was to honour him in the eyes of the Gods and permit his decisions in their household as gospel. She would, she knew, be welcomed as an equal party in their union but legally it was he that held the cards. It was he that was due to rule over their lives together with his own choices and his own care.
And it was now he that chose for her to permit him taking care of her... in a way that she had neither sought, nor ordered... but when his hands wrapped around her ankles, she realised that she had needed.
Her eyes closing a little upon his ministrations, a soft and private smile lit her face from within and her lower lip was drawn between her teeth in a moment of deliciousness as her hands and fingertips worked along her lower leg. Given the routines of removing the hair from her limbs for so many years it had been a while now since any of it had grown back. Her skin was smooth to the touch and tanned the pretty olive colour of her heritage. Against the lighter shade of the gown she still wore, out of shape and soft about her frame, she appeared almost Hispanic... native to the lands of the west or perhaps that of the southern continent. She had spent too much time upon the deck of the ship that had carried them from Taengea to Athenia to look any more Greek - her skin turning darker each day.
When Iason told her to lay back, his hands moving her feet up to the mattress of feathers and aiding her in laying back atop the sheets, she was lost in silken fabric over the bed, her gown pooling around her and the white bedding beneath crinkled by her weight. There were a few soft thumps as Iason's footwear hit the floor and then he was lying beside her, joining his future wife upon the sheets.
When he reached out and encouraged her to roll onto her belly, the silks of her gown twisting a little around her waist and pinned beneath her hips, a soft little laugh broke from her lips.
"What are you doing?" She asked in a tone that was light, airy and sleepily relaxed as she settled one hand beneath her cheek and the other reached out to touch Iason's outstretched arm. Her fingertips stroked for a moment over the hair there, turning it smooth, even and soft against his skin.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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Persephone was used to being cared for. But not entirely in manners such as this. Her lady’s maids, the servants, slaves and guardsmen of her palace had all been sworn to loyalty to the crown and to she. It was part of their duties - all of them - that her safety and her needs were catered to in every possible manner. If she were hungry, food of the highest quality was to be provided. If she were tired, then she was permitted hours of rest in a bed that was large and comfortable. If her life were in any form of danger, such a threat was eradicated before it could burden her existence. Not including the stressors of ruling a kingdom and the trauma of losing members of her family, Persephone's life had been one of carefree luxury when it came down to the pragmatics of living.
And yet, all of those people were at Persephone's command. Which meant that it was only if she recognised her need within herself that it was seen to. If food was to be brought - however high in quality and preparation and fixed to her taste - it required her to recognise her hunger and order that such things be brought to her. If she was determined that she would not sleep until certain work had been completed, her maids and servants and aides could not override her otherwise. Which meant that, in truth, Persephone in fact looked after herself. Such a luxury of having others wait upon her hand and foot was an illusion. She operated as her own guardian and did so with a mentality that often placed her own desires and needs lower down the list of priorities than they should have been.
Yet, the role of a husband was different.
Regardless of whether Persephone became Queen of Athenia or a baroness in Taengea... Iason was to be her husband and her master. She was to honour him in the eyes of the Gods and permit his decisions in their household as gospel. She would, she knew, be welcomed as an equal party in their union but legally it was he that held the cards. It was he that was due to rule over their lives together with his own choices and his own care.
And it was now he that chose for her to permit him taking care of her... in a way that she had neither sought, nor ordered... but when his hands wrapped around her ankles, she realised that she had needed.
Her eyes closing a little upon his ministrations, a soft and private smile lit her face from within and her lower lip was drawn between her teeth in a moment of deliciousness as her hands and fingertips worked along her lower leg. Given the routines of removing the hair from her limbs for so many years it had been a while now since any of it had grown back. Her skin was smooth to the touch and tanned the pretty olive colour of her heritage. Against the lighter shade of the gown she still wore, out of shape and soft about her frame, she appeared almost Hispanic... native to the lands of the west or perhaps that of the southern continent. She had spent too much time upon the deck of the ship that had carried them from Taengea to Athenia to look any more Greek - her skin turning darker each day.
When Iason told her to lay back, his hands moving her feet up to the mattress of feathers and aiding her in laying back atop the sheets, she was lost in silken fabric over the bed, her gown pooling around her and the white bedding beneath crinkled by her weight. There were a few soft thumps as Iason's footwear hit the floor and then he was lying beside her, joining his future wife upon the sheets.
When he reached out and encouraged her to roll onto her belly, the silks of her gown twisting a little around her waist and pinned beneath her hips, a soft little laugh broke from her lips.
"What are you doing?" She asked in a tone that was light, airy and sleepily relaxed as she settled one hand beneath her cheek and the other reached out to touch Iason's outstretched arm. Her fingertips stroked for a moment over the hair there, turning it smooth, even and soft against his skin.
Persephone was used to being cared for. But not entirely in manners such as this. Her lady’s maids, the servants, slaves and guardsmen of her palace had all been sworn to loyalty to the crown and to she. It was part of their duties - all of them - that her safety and her needs were catered to in every possible manner. If she were hungry, food of the highest quality was to be provided. If she were tired, then she was permitted hours of rest in a bed that was large and comfortable. If her life were in any form of danger, such a threat was eradicated before it could burden her existence. Not including the stressors of ruling a kingdom and the trauma of losing members of her family, Persephone's life had been one of carefree luxury when it came down to the pragmatics of living.
And yet, all of those people were at Persephone's command. Which meant that it was only if she recognised her need within herself that it was seen to. If food was to be brought - however high in quality and preparation and fixed to her taste - it required her to recognise her hunger and order that such things be brought to her. If she was determined that she would not sleep until certain work had been completed, her maids and servants and aides could not override her otherwise. Which meant that, in truth, Persephone in fact looked after herself. Such a luxury of having others wait upon her hand and foot was an illusion. She operated as her own guardian and did so with a mentality that often placed her own desires and needs lower down the list of priorities than they should have been.
Yet, the role of a husband was different.
Regardless of whether Persephone became Queen of Athenia or a baroness in Taengea... Iason was to be her husband and her master. She was to honour him in the eyes of the Gods and permit his decisions in their household as gospel. She would, she knew, be welcomed as an equal party in their union but legally it was he that held the cards. It was he that was due to rule over their lives together with his own choices and his own care.
And it was now he that chose for her to permit him taking care of her... in a way that she had neither sought, nor ordered... but when his hands wrapped around her ankles, she realised that she had needed.
Her eyes closing a little upon his ministrations, a soft and private smile lit her face from within and her lower lip was drawn between her teeth in a moment of deliciousness as her hands and fingertips worked along her lower leg. Given the routines of removing the hair from her limbs for so many years it had been a while now since any of it had grown back. Her skin was smooth to the touch and tanned the pretty olive colour of her heritage. Against the lighter shade of the gown she still wore, out of shape and soft about her frame, she appeared almost Hispanic... native to the lands of the west or perhaps that of the southern continent. She had spent too much time upon the deck of the ship that had carried them from Taengea to Athenia to look any more Greek - her skin turning darker each day.
When Iason told her to lay back, his hands moving her feet up to the mattress of feathers and aiding her in laying back atop the sheets, she was lost in silken fabric over the bed, her gown pooling around her and the white bedding beneath crinkled by her weight. There were a few soft thumps as Iason's footwear hit the floor and then he was lying beside her, joining his future wife upon the sheets.
When he reached out and encouraged her to roll onto her belly, the silks of her gown twisting a little around her waist and pinned beneath her hips, a soft little laugh broke from her lips.
"What are you doing?" She asked in a tone that was light, airy and sleepily relaxed as she settled one hand beneath her cheek and the other reached out to touch Iason's outstretched arm. Her fingertips stroked for a moment over the hair there, turning it smooth, even and soft against his skin.
Iason was pleased to see the relaxation slowly roll over her, the drooping of her eyelids as he tucked her atop the bed was encouraging, and though the fabric of her garments pooled around them he was determined to ensure she had a decent nights sleep. If he could only convince her to let him stay up and do the worrying for once, at the very least he hoped he could coax her to sleep and let him keep watch. He smiled at her question, bringing her hand to his lips after enjoying the touch as she brushed over his arm.
This gentle moment between them, the calm that was finally settling after the heated arguments and confusion and stress of below seemed to be melting away, these were the times he lived for. One day the fear and violence wouldn't be a question, they would be able to breathe deeply without worry of another revolution or fight, and this would become the normal for them. He was determined to see it so. Whatever considerations she had about him being head of their family would have been easily dismissed. Unless she asked him to take charge he had always planned to be equal to his wife in all things, much like his own parents had been. But if she needed him now to take charge, to see the things that were wearing on her when she refused to take note because she was too concerned for others, he would be that as long as she needed.
"Trying to give you a massage. I've only ever done this for horses though so I may not be very good." His admission was accompanied by a chuckle as he moved both hands to her shoulders, pressing into tense muscle and using his thumbs to work at her stress. It would have been easier if he straddled her, but he had no idea what she would think of him then. As much as he desired her, wanted to share their bodies as they had before, this hardly seemed the moment to ask for such a thing even if it was the first time they'd had a proper bed since the first night. When she wished it, he would be happy to give all she wanted.
The baron worked in silence, sliding his touch down over the material to her waist and stopping as it drew to her hips, keeping a hand on the small of her back as he laid beside her. His fingers still drew absent patterns against the fabric and skin beneath, but this way he could be on her level. On the boat he had slept in his clothing from the day, mostly for warmth against the chill air of the sea, and though he usually slept bare at home he didn't want to presume, even though she had not asked for a separate room for him.
"It will all be fine. Whatever happens. I'll be here."
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Iason was pleased to see the relaxation slowly roll over her, the drooping of her eyelids as he tucked her atop the bed was encouraging, and though the fabric of her garments pooled around them he was determined to ensure she had a decent nights sleep. If he could only convince her to let him stay up and do the worrying for once, at the very least he hoped he could coax her to sleep and let him keep watch. He smiled at her question, bringing her hand to his lips after enjoying the touch as she brushed over his arm.
This gentle moment between them, the calm that was finally settling after the heated arguments and confusion and stress of below seemed to be melting away, these were the times he lived for. One day the fear and violence wouldn't be a question, they would be able to breathe deeply without worry of another revolution or fight, and this would become the normal for them. He was determined to see it so. Whatever considerations she had about him being head of their family would have been easily dismissed. Unless she asked him to take charge he had always planned to be equal to his wife in all things, much like his own parents had been. But if she needed him now to take charge, to see the things that were wearing on her when she refused to take note because she was too concerned for others, he would be that as long as she needed.
"Trying to give you a massage. I've only ever done this for horses though so I may not be very good." His admission was accompanied by a chuckle as he moved both hands to her shoulders, pressing into tense muscle and using his thumbs to work at her stress. It would have been easier if he straddled her, but he had no idea what she would think of him then. As much as he desired her, wanted to share their bodies as they had before, this hardly seemed the moment to ask for such a thing even if it was the first time they'd had a proper bed since the first night. When she wished it, he would be happy to give all she wanted.
The baron worked in silence, sliding his touch down over the material to her waist and stopping as it drew to her hips, keeping a hand on the small of her back as he laid beside her. His fingers still drew absent patterns against the fabric and skin beneath, but this way he could be on her level. On the boat he had slept in his clothing from the day, mostly for warmth against the chill air of the sea, and though he usually slept bare at home he didn't want to presume, even though she had not asked for a separate room for him.
"It will all be fine. Whatever happens. I'll be here."
Iason was pleased to see the relaxation slowly roll over her, the drooping of her eyelids as he tucked her atop the bed was encouraging, and though the fabric of her garments pooled around them he was determined to ensure she had a decent nights sleep. If he could only convince her to let him stay up and do the worrying for once, at the very least he hoped he could coax her to sleep and let him keep watch. He smiled at her question, bringing her hand to his lips after enjoying the touch as she brushed over his arm.
This gentle moment between them, the calm that was finally settling after the heated arguments and confusion and stress of below seemed to be melting away, these were the times he lived for. One day the fear and violence wouldn't be a question, they would be able to breathe deeply without worry of another revolution or fight, and this would become the normal for them. He was determined to see it so. Whatever considerations she had about him being head of their family would have been easily dismissed. Unless she asked him to take charge he had always planned to be equal to his wife in all things, much like his own parents had been. But if she needed him now to take charge, to see the things that were wearing on her when she refused to take note because she was too concerned for others, he would be that as long as she needed.
"Trying to give you a massage. I've only ever done this for horses though so I may not be very good." His admission was accompanied by a chuckle as he moved both hands to her shoulders, pressing into tense muscle and using his thumbs to work at her stress. It would have been easier if he straddled her, but he had no idea what she would think of him then. As much as he desired her, wanted to share their bodies as they had before, this hardly seemed the moment to ask for such a thing even if it was the first time they'd had a proper bed since the first night. When she wished it, he would be happy to give all she wanted.
The baron worked in silence, sliding his touch down over the material to her waist and stopping as it drew to her hips, keeping a hand on the small of her back as he laid beside her. His fingers still drew absent patterns against the fabric and skin beneath, but this way he could be on her level. On the boat he had slept in his clothing from the day, mostly for warmth against the chill air of the sea, and though he usually slept bare at home he didn't want to presume, even though she had not asked for a separate room for him.
"It will all be fine. Whatever happens. I'll be here."
Persephone's eyes were amused as she challenged Iason on what he was doing. When he argued back that he was offering her a massage of some kind, she immediately raised her brows, her mouth popping open and her expression turning teasing.
"Excuse me?" She asked in a feigned voice of offence. Horses, huh? She needn't detail further her point, for he had talked himself into that tease and she needed no more ammunition than a startled face and faux insult.
But the effect was spoiled when he went to touch her shoulders and started to work on her tight muscles. Her lips closing over a gasp, she exhaled slowly and closed her eyes, resting the side of her face upon her arm. Her other, where she had touched upon his arm, now feel by her side, her fingers idle on the bedsheets.
As a princess she had had people tend to her all the time and held certain levels of modesty that were different perhaps from the norm. She held no shame or awkwardness, for example, in being bare before her lady’s maids as they dressed her and saw to her hygiene.
But the level of physical contact that Iason was offering her now was unlike the norm of her life. For, any connections she held between others and her bare skin had always held an unpersonal detachment. This was far from that and wholly personal.
Iason's hands were large and they skimmed and pressed over her shoulder blades and the sloped curve of her spine. As his touch moved over muscles that she hadn't realised were hard as stone with tensions and stress she found herself relaxing and exhaling on a breathy moan. Her eyes remained closed, her lips turning up in a private smile and her hips rocked a little as she became comfortable on the mattress, yielding to the touch of her betrothed...
Her words came out a little mumbled, lost in her own enjoyment of his massage and the quietness of her own thoughts.
“Your horses are very lucky, Iason…” She murmured into the sheets.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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Persephone's eyes were amused as she challenged Iason on what he was doing. When he argued back that he was offering her a massage of some kind, she immediately raised her brows, her mouth popping open and her expression turning teasing.
"Excuse me?" She asked in a feigned voice of offence. Horses, huh? She needn't detail further her point, for he had talked himself into that tease and she needed no more ammunition than a startled face and faux insult.
But the effect was spoiled when he went to touch her shoulders and started to work on her tight muscles. Her lips closing over a gasp, she exhaled slowly and closed her eyes, resting the side of her face upon her arm. Her other, where she had touched upon his arm, now feel by her side, her fingers idle on the bedsheets.
As a princess she had had people tend to her all the time and held certain levels of modesty that were different perhaps from the norm. She held no shame or awkwardness, for example, in being bare before her lady’s maids as they dressed her and saw to her hygiene.
But the level of physical contact that Iason was offering her now was unlike the norm of her life. For, any connections she held between others and her bare skin had always held an unpersonal detachment. This was far from that and wholly personal.
Iason's hands were large and they skimmed and pressed over her shoulder blades and the sloped curve of her spine. As his touch moved over muscles that she hadn't realised were hard as stone with tensions and stress she found herself relaxing and exhaling on a breathy moan. Her eyes remained closed, her lips turning up in a private smile and her hips rocked a little as she became comfortable on the mattress, yielding to the touch of her betrothed...
Her words came out a little mumbled, lost in her own enjoyment of his massage and the quietness of her own thoughts.
“Your horses are very lucky, Iason…” She murmured into the sheets.
Persephone's eyes were amused as she challenged Iason on what he was doing. When he argued back that he was offering her a massage of some kind, she immediately raised her brows, her mouth popping open and her expression turning teasing.
"Excuse me?" She asked in a feigned voice of offence. Horses, huh? She needn't detail further her point, for he had talked himself into that tease and she needed no more ammunition than a startled face and faux insult.
But the effect was spoiled when he went to touch her shoulders and started to work on her tight muscles. Her lips closing over a gasp, she exhaled slowly and closed her eyes, resting the side of her face upon her arm. Her other, where she had touched upon his arm, now feel by her side, her fingers idle on the bedsheets.
As a princess she had had people tend to her all the time and held certain levels of modesty that were different perhaps from the norm. She held no shame or awkwardness, for example, in being bare before her lady’s maids as they dressed her and saw to her hygiene.
But the level of physical contact that Iason was offering her now was unlike the norm of her life. For, any connections she held between others and her bare skin had always held an unpersonal detachment. This was far from that and wholly personal.
Iason's hands were large and they skimmed and pressed over her shoulder blades and the sloped curve of her spine. As his touch moved over muscles that she hadn't realised were hard as stone with tensions and stress she found herself relaxing and exhaling on a breathy moan. Her eyes remained closed, her lips turning up in a private smile and her hips rocked a little as she became comfortable on the mattress, yielding to the touch of her betrothed...
Her words came out a little mumbled, lost in her own enjoyment of his massage and the quietness of her own thoughts.
“Your horses are very lucky, Iason…” She murmured into the sheets.
Persephone's mock teasing had him wrinkling his brow at her, making a face that mimicked those of childhood but without the tongue stuck out in offense that might have accompanied it previously. Without thinking he gave a gentle swat to her rear before resuming his ministrations. He grew smug as he watched her expression shift, feeling the way the muscles finally unwound beneath his touch and glad for each exhale that told him yet another was finally loosened enough. It felt as if every single limb and ligament beneath his fingers had been wound tight enough to snap, and he was frowning by the time he had manage to get halfway down her back.
Had she been a horse he would have ordered rest and only very light on lead working with at lest once daily massage. Not that he would ever say that to her out loud. One because he knew she would tease him for it, and more importantly, that she wouldn't listen to his orders anyway. The way she was yielding to him now was thrilling, the soft moan sending a dart of heat through his chest unbidden. He was helping her relax, trying to ease her to sleep, nothing else. It was a reminder he continued to repeat as her hips shifted and she breathed out against the sheets, the way her fingers curled into the blankets reminding him of far more exhausting activities.
Iason laughed softly at her comment, rising up again to continue his work, this time trailing his touch along her lower back and hips. Reaching beneath the fabric of her chiton he let it fall back over his hands to maintain what modesty was left between them, massaging her legs down to her feet once more before gently urging her to turn back over so he could do the same to the front.
"I suppose as they're not here, you'll have to help me maintain my practice." It was said in a teasing tone, but as he released her and tugged the fabric down to cover her completely, he hoped she took him seriously. If that was what she needed he would be happy always to give it. Returning to his place by her side, he propped himself up on his side to look down at her, the peace on her face something he wished to see in her more often. One finger trailed over her brow bone and down her cheek, holding there as he leaned down to press his lips to hers sweetly, trying not to ask anything further of her but settle her to bed instead.
"Rest, my love."
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Persephone's mock teasing had him wrinkling his brow at her, making a face that mimicked those of childhood but without the tongue stuck out in offense that might have accompanied it previously. Without thinking he gave a gentle swat to her rear before resuming his ministrations. He grew smug as he watched her expression shift, feeling the way the muscles finally unwound beneath his touch and glad for each exhale that told him yet another was finally loosened enough. It felt as if every single limb and ligament beneath his fingers had been wound tight enough to snap, and he was frowning by the time he had manage to get halfway down her back.
Had she been a horse he would have ordered rest and only very light on lead working with at lest once daily massage. Not that he would ever say that to her out loud. One because he knew she would tease him for it, and more importantly, that she wouldn't listen to his orders anyway. The way she was yielding to him now was thrilling, the soft moan sending a dart of heat through his chest unbidden. He was helping her relax, trying to ease her to sleep, nothing else. It was a reminder he continued to repeat as her hips shifted and she breathed out against the sheets, the way her fingers curled into the blankets reminding him of far more exhausting activities.
Iason laughed softly at her comment, rising up again to continue his work, this time trailing his touch along her lower back and hips. Reaching beneath the fabric of her chiton he let it fall back over his hands to maintain what modesty was left between them, massaging her legs down to her feet once more before gently urging her to turn back over so he could do the same to the front.
"I suppose as they're not here, you'll have to help me maintain my practice." It was said in a teasing tone, but as he released her and tugged the fabric down to cover her completely, he hoped she took him seriously. If that was what she needed he would be happy always to give it. Returning to his place by her side, he propped himself up on his side to look down at her, the peace on her face something he wished to see in her more often. One finger trailed over her brow bone and down her cheek, holding there as he leaned down to press his lips to hers sweetly, trying not to ask anything further of her but settle her to bed instead.
"Rest, my love."
Persephone's mock teasing had him wrinkling his brow at her, making a face that mimicked those of childhood but without the tongue stuck out in offense that might have accompanied it previously. Without thinking he gave a gentle swat to her rear before resuming his ministrations. He grew smug as he watched her expression shift, feeling the way the muscles finally unwound beneath his touch and glad for each exhale that told him yet another was finally loosened enough. It felt as if every single limb and ligament beneath his fingers had been wound tight enough to snap, and he was frowning by the time he had manage to get halfway down her back.
Had she been a horse he would have ordered rest and only very light on lead working with at lest once daily massage. Not that he would ever say that to her out loud. One because he knew she would tease him for it, and more importantly, that she wouldn't listen to his orders anyway. The way she was yielding to him now was thrilling, the soft moan sending a dart of heat through his chest unbidden. He was helping her relax, trying to ease her to sleep, nothing else. It was a reminder he continued to repeat as her hips shifted and she breathed out against the sheets, the way her fingers curled into the blankets reminding him of far more exhausting activities.
Iason laughed softly at her comment, rising up again to continue his work, this time trailing his touch along her lower back and hips. Reaching beneath the fabric of her chiton he let it fall back over his hands to maintain what modesty was left between them, massaging her legs down to her feet once more before gently urging her to turn back over so he could do the same to the front.
"I suppose as they're not here, you'll have to help me maintain my practice." It was said in a teasing tone, but as he released her and tugged the fabric down to cover her completely, he hoped she took him seriously. If that was what she needed he would be happy always to give it. Returning to his place by her side, he propped himself up on his side to look down at her, the peace on her face something he wished to see in her more often. One finger trailed over her brow bone and down her cheek, holding there as he leaned down to press his lips to hers sweetly, trying not to ask anything further of her but settle her to bed instead.
"Rest, my love."
Persephone's muscles felt as if they were on a small rollercoaster of excitement and relief, one following in turn to replace the other. As Iason's hands drifted over the fabric of her gown and then sought bare skin along the length of her legs... each touch was intimate and had her tensing beneath the skin in a way that was deliciously awkward. Though they had slept in the same cot or bed several times, only once had it been without clothing between them. She had yet to grow used to his touch as a soft and familiar sensation, the gentle stroke of his fingers still just a slightly alien and exciting reverence. It set her senses high and her mind to heated places. And yet... as he continued to work... the pressure of his fingers and his determination to ease the muscles he had roused set them into a relaxing calm, forcing them into still relief and sleepy repose.
Back and forth the reactions came - tensing and then easing... It was at once relaxing and exhausting, as she wasn't sure how her mind might keep up with the contradictory reflexes of her muscles and skin. Instead, she chose only to close her eyes and enjoy the tingles and euphoria strokes of his touch, rolling when he encouraged her to move to her back.
Curling a little in ticklishness when his hands reached her sides, Persephone placed a hand upon his forearm to still his ministrations and offered a sleepy smile in return for his kiss as he told her to rest. Trying to maintain the contact of their eyes, Persephone shifted a little so that her back was to her betrothed, the curve of her spine snug against the front of his chest, her bottom against his thighs. She placed her hands on his wrists and encouraged him to wrap his arms around her middle, feeling safe and cocooned within his embrace. She watched him just for a moment over her shoulder before letting her cheek fall upon the pillow and her legs entangle with his, her breathing easing quickly into the calm rhythm of sleep. Her body already prepped for slumber, it took no time at all for her mind to close down, her stressors to fly from her mind and the warmth of her future husband to lull her into peaceful repose...
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Persephone's muscles felt as if they were on a small rollercoaster of excitement and relief, one following in turn to replace the other. As Iason's hands drifted over the fabric of her gown and then sought bare skin along the length of her legs... each touch was intimate and had her tensing beneath the skin in a way that was deliciously awkward. Though they had slept in the same cot or bed several times, only once had it been without clothing between them. She had yet to grow used to his touch as a soft and familiar sensation, the gentle stroke of his fingers still just a slightly alien and exciting reverence. It set her senses high and her mind to heated places. And yet... as he continued to work... the pressure of his fingers and his determination to ease the muscles he had roused set them into a relaxing calm, forcing them into still relief and sleepy repose.
Back and forth the reactions came - tensing and then easing... It was at once relaxing and exhausting, as she wasn't sure how her mind might keep up with the contradictory reflexes of her muscles and skin. Instead, she chose only to close her eyes and enjoy the tingles and euphoria strokes of his touch, rolling when he encouraged her to move to her back.
Curling a little in ticklishness when his hands reached her sides, Persephone placed a hand upon his forearm to still his ministrations and offered a sleepy smile in return for his kiss as he told her to rest. Trying to maintain the contact of their eyes, Persephone shifted a little so that her back was to her betrothed, the curve of her spine snug against the front of his chest, her bottom against his thighs. She placed her hands on his wrists and encouraged him to wrap his arms around her middle, feeling safe and cocooned within his embrace. She watched him just for a moment over her shoulder before letting her cheek fall upon the pillow and her legs entangle with his, her breathing easing quickly into the calm rhythm of sleep. Her body already prepped for slumber, it took no time at all for her mind to close down, her stressors to fly from her mind and the warmth of her future husband to lull her into peaceful repose...
Persephone's muscles felt as if they were on a small rollercoaster of excitement and relief, one following in turn to replace the other. As Iason's hands drifted over the fabric of her gown and then sought bare skin along the length of her legs... each touch was intimate and had her tensing beneath the skin in a way that was deliciously awkward. Though they had slept in the same cot or bed several times, only once had it been without clothing between them. She had yet to grow used to his touch as a soft and familiar sensation, the gentle stroke of his fingers still just a slightly alien and exciting reverence. It set her senses high and her mind to heated places. And yet... as he continued to work... the pressure of his fingers and his determination to ease the muscles he had roused set them into a relaxing calm, forcing them into still relief and sleepy repose.
Back and forth the reactions came - tensing and then easing... It was at once relaxing and exhausting, as she wasn't sure how her mind might keep up with the contradictory reflexes of her muscles and skin. Instead, she chose only to close her eyes and enjoy the tingles and euphoria strokes of his touch, rolling when he encouraged her to move to her back.
Curling a little in ticklishness when his hands reached her sides, Persephone placed a hand upon his forearm to still his ministrations and offered a sleepy smile in return for his kiss as he told her to rest. Trying to maintain the contact of their eyes, Persephone shifted a little so that her back was to her betrothed, the curve of her spine snug against the front of his chest, her bottom against his thighs. She placed her hands on his wrists and encouraged him to wrap his arms around her middle, feeling safe and cocooned within his embrace. She watched him just for a moment over her shoulder before letting her cheek fall upon the pillow and her legs entangle with his, her breathing easing quickly into the calm rhythm of sleep. Her body already prepped for slumber, it took no time at all for her mind to close down, her stressors to fly from her mind and the warmth of her future husband to lull her into peaceful repose...