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She had been right in her assumption that her husband would bring their son, but what surprised Evras was that he would direct their son towards her and collect her. As always, the woman greeted Dion with a smile, ruffling his curly hair and returning his bow with a shallow curtsy, accepting his hug before giving a hesitant look at her husband. They had many things to speak of, but Evras assumed Yanni had already updated her husband of her condition as notified by the physician. While they were still fraught with uncertainty caused by her father's actions, that Zanon still found concern for her eased her heart a little.
Nodding, Evras's smile was tender when she noticed Dion making sure to keep an eye on her as they headed to the King and Queen. It was a sure sign that Dion was a grown up now, and that he would be sent to the mines in just a few days meant Evras had to swallow the harsh reality. She no longer had a boy, but a young man now, who was far older then just enough to take on responsibilities as a young prince.
Next to Zanon, she curtsied again as her husband greeted his parents, but was distracted when the cry of carrion took her attention. Slowly straightening up, her lips fell slightly agape as she saw the dark creatures landing on the masts and sails of the ships, and a sense of trepidation filled her chest. Was this a good sign? She knew the birds were a symbol of Ares, but did this mean that the God of War would be with them? Or is he trying to show them the future that would behold them?
Turning to check on her son, the boy's eyes seemed wide, but was quickly distracted when her husband placed a reassuring hand upon his head. The young Kotas already wanted to be like his uncles and father, and that he was still too young to follow upon this war disappointed him, as he had told Evras one of the nights. But eager to ensure he did his responsibility at least while remaining in the capitol, Dion quickly did a neat bow, wishing well to his grandfather and uncles while promising to keep a watch over his grandmother, mother and aunt, Evras smiled as she watched the mature way Dion interacted, and then turned her gaze to the married monarchs for her own.
"May your sails be blessed by Poseidon, and your weapons watched over by Ares and Athena, your Majesties." she wished with another shallow curtsy. "I wish for your early return so you could meet your new grandchild, King Tython, I'm sure you have many things you could teach them." she directed her last words at the King himself, knowing that the Queen had recently obtained her husband back. That they would have to be separated again so soon was a sad sight to see, and Evras made up her mind to pray for the safety of her husband's family during this time. At least they deserved some form of peace after a trying period.
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She had been right in her assumption that her husband would bring their son, but what surprised Evras was that he would direct their son towards her and collect her. As always, the woman greeted Dion with a smile, ruffling his curly hair and returning his bow with a shallow curtsy, accepting his hug before giving a hesitant look at her husband. They had many things to speak of, but Evras assumed Yanni had already updated her husband of her condition as notified by the physician. While they were still fraught with uncertainty caused by her father's actions, that Zanon still found concern for her eased her heart a little.
Nodding, Evras's smile was tender when she noticed Dion making sure to keep an eye on her as they headed to the King and Queen. It was a sure sign that Dion was a grown up now, and that he would be sent to the mines in just a few days meant Evras had to swallow the harsh reality. She no longer had a boy, but a young man now, who was far older then just enough to take on responsibilities as a young prince.
Next to Zanon, she curtsied again as her husband greeted his parents, but was distracted when the cry of carrion took her attention. Slowly straightening up, her lips fell slightly agape as she saw the dark creatures landing on the masts and sails of the ships, and a sense of trepidation filled her chest. Was this a good sign? She knew the birds were a symbol of Ares, but did this mean that the God of War would be with them? Or is he trying to show them the future that would behold them?
Turning to check on her son, the boy's eyes seemed wide, but was quickly distracted when her husband placed a reassuring hand upon his head. The young Kotas already wanted to be like his uncles and father, and that he was still too young to follow upon this war disappointed him, as he had told Evras one of the nights. But eager to ensure he did his responsibility at least while remaining in the capitol, Dion quickly did a neat bow, wishing well to his grandfather and uncles while promising to keep a watch over his grandmother, mother and aunt, Evras smiled as she watched the mature way Dion interacted, and then turned her gaze to the married monarchs for her own.
"May your sails be blessed by Poseidon, and your weapons watched over by Ares and Athena, your Majesties." she wished with another shallow curtsy. "I wish for your early return so you could meet your new grandchild, King Tython, I'm sure you have many things you could teach them." she directed her last words at the King himself, knowing that the Queen had recently obtained her husband back. That they would have to be separated again so soon was a sad sight to see, and Evras made up her mind to pray for the safety of her husband's family during this time. At least they deserved some form of peace after a trying period.
She had been right in her assumption that her husband would bring their son, but what surprised Evras was that he would direct their son towards her and collect her. As always, the woman greeted Dion with a smile, ruffling his curly hair and returning his bow with a shallow curtsy, accepting his hug before giving a hesitant look at her husband. They had many things to speak of, but Evras assumed Yanni had already updated her husband of her condition as notified by the physician. While they were still fraught with uncertainty caused by her father's actions, that Zanon still found concern for her eased her heart a little.
Nodding, Evras's smile was tender when she noticed Dion making sure to keep an eye on her as they headed to the King and Queen. It was a sure sign that Dion was a grown up now, and that he would be sent to the mines in just a few days meant Evras had to swallow the harsh reality. She no longer had a boy, but a young man now, who was far older then just enough to take on responsibilities as a young prince.
Next to Zanon, she curtsied again as her husband greeted his parents, but was distracted when the cry of carrion took her attention. Slowly straightening up, her lips fell slightly agape as she saw the dark creatures landing on the masts and sails of the ships, and a sense of trepidation filled her chest. Was this a good sign? She knew the birds were a symbol of Ares, but did this mean that the God of War would be with them? Or is he trying to show them the future that would behold them?
Turning to check on her son, the boy's eyes seemed wide, but was quickly distracted when her husband placed a reassuring hand upon his head. The young Kotas already wanted to be like his uncles and father, and that he was still too young to follow upon this war disappointed him, as he had told Evras one of the nights. But eager to ensure he did his responsibility at least while remaining in the capitol, Dion quickly did a neat bow, wishing well to his grandfather and uncles while promising to keep a watch over his grandmother, mother and aunt, Evras smiled as she watched the mature way Dion interacted, and then turned her gaze to the married monarchs for her own.
"May your sails be blessed by Poseidon, and your weapons watched over by Ares and Athena, your Majesties." she wished with another shallow curtsy. "I wish for your early return so you could meet your new grandchild, King Tython, I'm sure you have many things you could teach them." she directed her last words at the King himself, knowing that the Queen had recently obtained her husband back. That they would have to be separated again so soon was a sad sight to see, and Evras made up her mind to pray for the safety of her husband's family during this time. At least they deserved some form of peace after a trying period.
There was something he truly missed about the energy of heading off to battle. The comradery between men as they prepared their gear and trained in the days prior was infectious. It was a true exercise in the strength of trust and a common enemy. The man next to you could be the only thing between you and Hades himself, and it was impossible to deny the amount of faith that went into that. They could kill you just as quickly as the enemy, but you trusted the man next to you with your life without doubt. He hadn’t been a part of that in a long time. And the feeling was as familiar as breathing.
But Alastair was one of the rare men who didn’t have anyone to say goodbye to. His mother died when he was young, still optimistic about the possibility of her recovery that he never imagined himself as a part of the military. Her death had forced him to grow up, but as an orphan, there was no reason to return home, or to have a tearful goodbye when duty called. There was something in the air that he’d never been concerned about before, always one to give the rest extra time and pick up the slack so they could have their moments.
Now, on the outside looking in, he couldn’t help but feel jealous of those who were going out to do more.
His current assignment was important, once that he would not have given to anyone else, even if he had the chance. Protecting the Queen and princess had become too personal for him, and he was not really willing to admit the reason why. Instead, he dressed in his usual black ensemble with his staff to hover behind the royal family. It was not his duty to hear conversations or to feel as if he was too close-- he was to be a protective shadow that would only be seen if he was needed and only heard if he was asked a question. So he was giving the family space, close enough to intervene but far enough away that they had their privacy.
There were a few familiar faces in the crowd, but he was certain that if anyone of them knew him, they wouldn’t say anything about it. There was no love lost among these kinds of men. Duty came first, and he was just another former soldier who could not do what he was born to do. He would not injure his own pride by trying to connect with any of them he might have known in his past life.
He sighed, head turning as he was joined by a familiar head of dark hair.
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There was something he truly missed about the energy of heading off to battle. The comradery between men as they prepared their gear and trained in the days prior was infectious. It was a true exercise in the strength of trust and a common enemy. The man next to you could be the only thing between you and Hades himself, and it was impossible to deny the amount of faith that went into that. They could kill you just as quickly as the enemy, but you trusted the man next to you with your life without doubt. He hadn’t been a part of that in a long time. And the feeling was as familiar as breathing.
But Alastair was one of the rare men who didn’t have anyone to say goodbye to. His mother died when he was young, still optimistic about the possibility of her recovery that he never imagined himself as a part of the military. Her death had forced him to grow up, but as an orphan, there was no reason to return home, or to have a tearful goodbye when duty called. There was something in the air that he’d never been concerned about before, always one to give the rest extra time and pick up the slack so they could have their moments.
Now, on the outside looking in, he couldn’t help but feel jealous of those who were going out to do more.
His current assignment was important, once that he would not have given to anyone else, even if he had the chance. Protecting the Queen and princess had become too personal for him, and he was not really willing to admit the reason why. Instead, he dressed in his usual black ensemble with his staff to hover behind the royal family. It was not his duty to hear conversations or to feel as if he was too close-- he was to be a protective shadow that would only be seen if he was needed and only heard if he was asked a question. So he was giving the family space, close enough to intervene but far enough away that they had their privacy.
There were a few familiar faces in the crowd, but he was certain that if anyone of them knew him, they wouldn’t say anything about it. There was no love lost among these kinds of men. Duty came first, and he was just another former soldier who could not do what he was born to do. He would not injure his own pride by trying to connect with any of them he might have known in his past life.
He sighed, head turning as he was joined by a familiar head of dark hair.
There was something he truly missed about the energy of heading off to battle. The comradery between men as they prepared their gear and trained in the days prior was infectious. It was a true exercise in the strength of trust and a common enemy. The man next to you could be the only thing between you and Hades himself, and it was impossible to deny the amount of faith that went into that. They could kill you just as quickly as the enemy, but you trusted the man next to you with your life without doubt. He hadn’t been a part of that in a long time. And the feeling was as familiar as breathing.
But Alastair was one of the rare men who didn’t have anyone to say goodbye to. His mother died when he was young, still optimistic about the possibility of her recovery that he never imagined himself as a part of the military. Her death had forced him to grow up, but as an orphan, there was no reason to return home, or to have a tearful goodbye when duty called. There was something in the air that he’d never been concerned about before, always one to give the rest extra time and pick up the slack so they could have their moments.
Now, on the outside looking in, he couldn’t help but feel jealous of those who were going out to do more.
His current assignment was important, once that he would not have given to anyone else, even if he had the chance. Protecting the Queen and princess had become too personal for him, and he was not really willing to admit the reason why. Instead, he dressed in his usual black ensemble with his staff to hover behind the royal family. It was not his duty to hear conversations or to feel as if he was too close-- he was to be a protective shadow that would only be seen if he was needed and only heard if he was asked a question. So he was giving the family space, close enough to intervene but far enough away that they had their privacy.
There were a few familiar faces in the crowd, but he was certain that if anyone of them knew him, they wouldn’t say anything about it. There was no love lost among these kinds of men. Duty came first, and he was just another former soldier who could not do what he was born to do. He would not injure his own pride by trying to connect with any of them he might have known in his past life.
He sighed, head turning as he was joined by a familiar head of dark hair.
He couldn't do this again. If he came back from this war, he would not be able to stand on this beach again, saying goodbye to his loved ones and his people. He had been married to this beautiful woman for thirty-six years and he had not spent enough of it on these shores with her. He had not seen every bit of the world with her has he had started to imagine when he was much younger. Queen Yanni had spent many of her years married to him running Colchis on her own, with the help of their sons. If anyone was the true ruler of Colchis, it was she.
And here he was leaving her again after just returning. It was a bittersweet feeling and something in his chest was pleading with him not to get on that boat. His mind, however, told him that to do such a thing would be a show of cowardice. And he was no coward. He never had been. If this was his last war, it would be his last whether he lived or not. Gazing down into his queen's face, Tython gave her the softest of smile, resting his forehead against hers for a long moment.
Then her lips were on his own and all bit of caution he had felt moments before was thrown to the wind without a second thought. One of his gloved hands played into the hair at the nape of her neck, his eyes closing tightly against the force of his queen. Yanni had always been quietly passionate, and while he hadn't expected this, he was never one to reject her. They had spent their entire lives worrying about what those around them thought. If he wanted to kiss his wife before getting on the boat to war, he was going to kiss his wife for as long as he wanted.
No one would keep him from that.
Breaking the kiss with Yanni, he lifted his head to brush his lips against her forehead. "You know that I'm never really gone," he said gently, softly. "I'm always going to be in your heart and your head and we will be together again," Tython murmured slowly, leaning back to look down into her beautiful face. "We will, Yanni," he asserted softly, hugging her to him again and resting his chin atop her head.
They stood together for a long while before Tython pulled back at the sound of his second son and his family approaching. Tython gave them all a firm nod, though his gaze was a little saddened by the fact that he wasn't just leaving Yanni, but the rest of his family as well. Breathing through his nose, "Zanon," he said lightly, then dropping his gaze to Prince Dion. A smile lifted his lips a little further and he let go of Yanni so that he could hug his grandson.
While in the process of embracing the young boy, Tython let his gaze rise to the massive flock of carrion birds that filled the masts of the ships. Frowning slightly, Tython turned his head away, knowing that it could either be a blessing or an open, and his mind drifted toward the latter. Letting go of Dion, Tython then reached for Princess Evras. There were a few rare times in which Tython would show such affection, and in his advancing age, he found it more important to embrace the princess now, lest he never got another chance. "I look forward to meeting my second grandchild," he said quietly as he stood back and gave Evras a onceover. "I am proud to call you my daughter," he said calmly, "Please take good care of my queen and my daughter," he said quietly to Evras, "They will need as much company as you can stand," he laughed a little, fully stepping back and looking over his family as a whole.
Tython's gaze then trailed back to his wife, "Remember what we talked about," he said slowly, knowing that Yanni would recall their conversation from a few nights before. Reaching for Yanni again, he kissed her softly one last time, "I love you," Tython rumbled. "Be strong," he then noted as an afterthought, starting to put distance between himself and the people he loved. He didn't spot his daughter, but he knew her to be well and that alone made him happy.
Turning away from them, he started toward the docks and toward his ship, needing to find a moment to breathe before they set off.
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He couldn't do this again. If he came back from this war, he would not be able to stand on this beach again, saying goodbye to his loved ones and his people. He had been married to this beautiful woman for thirty-six years and he had not spent enough of it on these shores with her. He had not seen every bit of the world with her has he had started to imagine when he was much younger. Queen Yanni had spent many of her years married to him running Colchis on her own, with the help of their sons. If anyone was the true ruler of Colchis, it was she.
And here he was leaving her again after just returning. It was a bittersweet feeling and something in his chest was pleading with him not to get on that boat. His mind, however, told him that to do such a thing would be a show of cowardice. And he was no coward. He never had been. If this was his last war, it would be his last whether he lived or not. Gazing down into his queen's face, Tython gave her the softest of smile, resting his forehead against hers for a long moment.
Then her lips were on his own and all bit of caution he had felt moments before was thrown to the wind without a second thought. One of his gloved hands played into the hair at the nape of her neck, his eyes closing tightly against the force of his queen. Yanni had always been quietly passionate, and while he hadn't expected this, he was never one to reject her. They had spent their entire lives worrying about what those around them thought. If he wanted to kiss his wife before getting on the boat to war, he was going to kiss his wife for as long as he wanted.
No one would keep him from that.
Breaking the kiss with Yanni, he lifted his head to brush his lips against her forehead. "You know that I'm never really gone," he said gently, softly. "I'm always going to be in your heart and your head and we will be together again," Tython murmured slowly, leaning back to look down into her beautiful face. "We will, Yanni," he asserted softly, hugging her to him again and resting his chin atop her head.
They stood together for a long while before Tython pulled back at the sound of his second son and his family approaching. Tython gave them all a firm nod, though his gaze was a little saddened by the fact that he wasn't just leaving Yanni, but the rest of his family as well. Breathing through his nose, "Zanon," he said lightly, then dropping his gaze to Prince Dion. A smile lifted his lips a little further and he let go of Yanni so that he could hug his grandson.
While in the process of embracing the young boy, Tython let his gaze rise to the massive flock of carrion birds that filled the masts of the ships. Frowning slightly, Tython turned his head away, knowing that it could either be a blessing or an open, and his mind drifted toward the latter. Letting go of Dion, Tython then reached for Princess Evras. There were a few rare times in which Tython would show such affection, and in his advancing age, he found it more important to embrace the princess now, lest he never got another chance. "I look forward to meeting my second grandchild," he said quietly as he stood back and gave Evras a onceover. "I am proud to call you my daughter," he said calmly, "Please take good care of my queen and my daughter," he said quietly to Evras, "They will need as much company as you can stand," he laughed a little, fully stepping back and looking over his family as a whole.
Tython's gaze then trailed back to his wife, "Remember what we talked about," he said slowly, knowing that Yanni would recall their conversation from a few nights before. Reaching for Yanni again, he kissed her softly one last time, "I love you," Tython rumbled. "Be strong," he then noted as an afterthought, starting to put distance between himself and the people he loved. He didn't spot his daughter, but he knew her to be well and that alone made him happy.
Turning away from them, he started toward the docks and toward his ship, needing to find a moment to breathe before they set off.
He couldn't do this again. If he came back from this war, he would not be able to stand on this beach again, saying goodbye to his loved ones and his people. He had been married to this beautiful woman for thirty-six years and he had not spent enough of it on these shores with her. He had not seen every bit of the world with her has he had started to imagine when he was much younger. Queen Yanni had spent many of her years married to him running Colchis on her own, with the help of their sons. If anyone was the true ruler of Colchis, it was she.
And here he was leaving her again after just returning. It was a bittersweet feeling and something in his chest was pleading with him not to get on that boat. His mind, however, told him that to do such a thing would be a show of cowardice. And he was no coward. He never had been. If this was his last war, it would be his last whether he lived or not. Gazing down into his queen's face, Tython gave her the softest of smile, resting his forehead against hers for a long moment.
Then her lips were on his own and all bit of caution he had felt moments before was thrown to the wind without a second thought. One of his gloved hands played into the hair at the nape of her neck, his eyes closing tightly against the force of his queen. Yanni had always been quietly passionate, and while he hadn't expected this, he was never one to reject her. They had spent their entire lives worrying about what those around them thought. If he wanted to kiss his wife before getting on the boat to war, he was going to kiss his wife for as long as he wanted.
No one would keep him from that.
Breaking the kiss with Yanni, he lifted his head to brush his lips against her forehead. "You know that I'm never really gone," he said gently, softly. "I'm always going to be in your heart and your head and we will be together again," Tython murmured slowly, leaning back to look down into her beautiful face. "We will, Yanni," he asserted softly, hugging her to him again and resting his chin atop her head.
They stood together for a long while before Tython pulled back at the sound of his second son and his family approaching. Tython gave them all a firm nod, though his gaze was a little saddened by the fact that he wasn't just leaving Yanni, but the rest of his family as well. Breathing through his nose, "Zanon," he said lightly, then dropping his gaze to Prince Dion. A smile lifted his lips a little further and he let go of Yanni so that he could hug his grandson.
While in the process of embracing the young boy, Tython let his gaze rise to the massive flock of carrion birds that filled the masts of the ships. Frowning slightly, Tython turned his head away, knowing that it could either be a blessing or an open, and his mind drifted toward the latter. Letting go of Dion, Tython then reached for Princess Evras. There were a few rare times in which Tython would show such affection, and in his advancing age, he found it more important to embrace the princess now, lest he never got another chance. "I look forward to meeting my second grandchild," he said quietly as he stood back and gave Evras a onceover. "I am proud to call you my daughter," he said calmly, "Please take good care of my queen and my daughter," he said quietly to Evras, "They will need as much company as you can stand," he laughed a little, fully stepping back and looking over his family as a whole.
Tython's gaze then trailed back to his wife, "Remember what we talked about," he said slowly, knowing that Yanni would recall their conversation from a few nights before. Reaching for Yanni again, he kissed her softly one last time, "I love you," Tython rumbled. "Be strong," he then noted as an afterthought, starting to put distance between himself and the people he loved. He didn't spot his daughter, but he knew her to be well and that alone made him happy.
Turning away from them, he started toward the docks and toward his ship, needing to find a moment to breathe before they set off.
Maleos had to admit disappointment as he stood there waiting, and not a single person came to say goodbye to him. He was just about to admit defeat when he saw his family approaching. He had brought them all to Midas for their own safety, but hadn’t been sure if they would show up. His parents were advancing in age and travelling was hard on them, and well, he had never been particularly close to any of his siblings. But he had to admit he was relieved to see them, at least if Leto didn’t show up he would know that someone cared for him and would think of him while he was off to war.
He moved to walk towards his family, being pulled immediately into a hug by his mother upon reaching them. He hugged her back, not resisting as this may very well be the last time she ever saw him. Any number of things could happen while he was away at war.
When he was released from the hug from his mother, his father pulled him into one as well. A man of few words as Maleos himself was, nothing needed to be said between the two men in the moment, the loving embrace was enough to show the bond between father and son, even if it wasn’t by blood. His worry for the man hadn’t gone, after the random attack and robbery on the villa he had set his family up in, he was actually surprised to see his father there. Then again, the man would not miss saying goodbye to a son leaving on such a long and dangerous trip.
“We can’t stay long. Father’s back has been hurting, and he must rest.” Maleos’ sister Delias said. A hard and serious woman, she was much like Maleos in that way. He nodded, he could understand that. They were lucky that the fall from the balcony did not kill their father, and Maleos had made sure to post extra guards at the villa, along with paying for a physician to attend his father.
“Thank you, for coming.” Maleos said simply, nodding to each of his siblings. His youngest sister stepped forward and hugged him. She had always been the more emotional of them, and the one that Maleos had gotten along with best in their childhood.
When all the hugs and well wishes were finished, Maleos saw his family off once more, and hoped that this would not be the last time he did so.
Alone once more, he turned his attentions to what was happening around him, people saying goodbye to their loved ones, soldiers picking up their things and heading onto the ships.
Suddenly everyone’s attention was pulled to a great number of birds who made their way in a flock to land near by.
And Maleos smiled.
It was a sign from Ares, and the Captain chose to take it as a good one. The God was with them, he had heard their prayers and their cries for the blood of their enemies, and his hand would guide them in the war. He felt his confidence grow more, it seemed like things were working out so well for him lately. Ares had to be the reason. The God had recognized his loyal follower, had seen the rivers of blood spilled in his name, and he had delivered to Maleos the chance to show what a true warrior and tactician he could be.
“I will not let you down.” Maleos said out loud, eyes locked on the birds, the message clear to Ares. Maleos would kill any Egyptian who stood in his way, each life taken in the name of his God.
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Maleos had to admit disappointment as he stood there waiting, and not a single person came to say goodbye to him. He was just about to admit defeat when he saw his family approaching. He had brought them all to Midas for their own safety, but hadn’t been sure if they would show up. His parents were advancing in age and travelling was hard on them, and well, he had never been particularly close to any of his siblings. But he had to admit he was relieved to see them, at least if Leto didn’t show up he would know that someone cared for him and would think of him while he was off to war.
He moved to walk towards his family, being pulled immediately into a hug by his mother upon reaching them. He hugged her back, not resisting as this may very well be the last time she ever saw him. Any number of things could happen while he was away at war.
When he was released from the hug from his mother, his father pulled him into one as well. A man of few words as Maleos himself was, nothing needed to be said between the two men in the moment, the loving embrace was enough to show the bond between father and son, even if it wasn’t by blood. His worry for the man hadn’t gone, after the random attack and robbery on the villa he had set his family up in, he was actually surprised to see his father there. Then again, the man would not miss saying goodbye to a son leaving on such a long and dangerous trip.
“We can’t stay long. Father’s back has been hurting, and he must rest.” Maleos’ sister Delias said. A hard and serious woman, she was much like Maleos in that way. He nodded, he could understand that. They were lucky that the fall from the balcony did not kill their father, and Maleos had made sure to post extra guards at the villa, along with paying for a physician to attend his father.
“Thank you, for coming.” Maleos said simply, nodding to each of his siblings. His youngest sister stepped forward and hugged him. She had always been the more emotional of them, and the one that Maleos had gotten along with best in their childhood.
When all the hugs and well wishes were finished, Maleos saw his family off once more, and hoped that this would not be the last time he did so.
Alone once more, he turned his attentions to what was happening around him, people saying goodbye to their loved ones, soldiers picking up their things and heading onto the ships.
Suddenly everyone’s attention was pulled to a great number of birds who made their way in a flock to land near by.
And Maleos smiled.
It was a sign from Ares, and the Captain chose to take it as a good one. The God was with them, he had heard their prayers and their cries for the blood of their enemies, and his hand would guide them in the war. He felt his confidence grow more, it seemed like things were working out so well for him lately. Ares had to be the reason. The God had recognized his loyal follower, had seen the rivers of blood spilled in his name, and he had delivered to Maleos the chance to show what a true warrior and tactician he could be.
“I will not let you down.” Maleos said out loud, eyes locked on the birds, the message clear to Ares. Maleos would kill any Egyptian who stood in his way, each life taken in the name of his God.
Maleos had to admit disappointment as he stood there waiting, and not a single person came to say goodbye to him. He was just about to admit defeat when he saw his family approaching. He had brought them all to Midas for their own safety, but hadn’t been sure if they would show up. His parents were advancing in age and travelling was hard on them, and well, he had never been particularly close to any of his siblings. But he had to admit he was relieved to see them, at least if Leto didn’t show up he would know that someone cared for him and would think of him while he was off to war.
He moved to walk towards his family, being pulled immediately into a hug by his mother upon reaching them. He hugged her back, not resisting as this may very well be the last time she ever saw him. Any number of things could happen while he was away at war.
When he was released from the hug from his mother, his father pulled him into one as well. A man of few words as Maleos himself was, nothing needed to be said between the two men in the moment, the loving embrace was enough to show the bond between father and son, even if it wasn’t by blood. His worry for the man hadn’t gone, after the random attack and robbery on the villa he had set his family up in, he was actually surprised to see his father there. Then again, the man would not miss saying goodbye to a son leaving on such a long and dangerous trip.
“We can’t stay long. Father’s back has been hurting, and he must rest.” Maleos’ sister Delias said. A hard and serious woman, she was much like Maleos in that way. He nodded, he could understand that. They were lucky that the fall from the balcony did not kill their father, and Maleos had made sure to post extra guards at the villa, along with paying for a physician to attend his father.
“Thank you, for coming.” Maleos said simply, nodding to each of his siblings. His youngest sister stepped forward and hugged him. She had always been the more emotional of them, and the one that Maleos had gotten along with best in their childhood.
When all the hugs and well wishes were finished, Maleos saw his family off once more, and hoped that this would not be the last time he did so.
Alone once more, he turned his attentions to what was happening around him, people saying goodbye to their loved ones, soldiers picking up their things and heading onto the ships.
Suddenly everyone’s attention was pulled to a great number of birds who made their way in a flock to land near by.
And Maleos smiled.
It was a sign from Ares, and the Captain chose to take it as a good one. The God was with them, he had heard their prayers and their cries for the blood of their enemies, and his hand would guide them in the war. He felt his confidence grow more, it seemed like things were working out so well for him lately. Ares had to be the reason. The God had recognized his loyal follower, had seen the rivers of blood spilled in his name, and he had delivered to Maleos the chance to show what a true warrior and tactician he could be.
“I will not let you down.” Maleos said out loud, eyes locked on the birds, the message clear to Ares. Maleos would kill any Egyptian who stood in his way, each life taken in the name of his God.
He leaned down, meeting Pia’s kiss briefly, and then laid his cheek on top of her head. If nothing else, at least he was going to war with the knowledge that his wife would be sad if he died. That was nice. A few weeks ago, with wine jugs and vases being flung at his head, he’d been less certain. Despite being surrounded by an untold number of people, all bidding goodbye, Stephanos had closed his eyes. It wasn’t easy, but he’d managed to block out the sounds of armor, footsteps, wailing, crunching earth beneath sandals, murmurs, shouts, creaking timbers, and instead focused on the scented perfumes in Pia’s hair, the silk of it against his cheek, and his baby daughter in his arm. When would he see them again? Would he see them again?
"I shall have Imma sketch her for you when we return home. So that you can carry a memory with you."
“All kinds,” he added. “Sleeping, awake, crying...doesn’t matter. And have her draw some of you, too.” Obviously Imma wouldn’t draw all the ones Stephanos would have liked to have, but an innocent one of Pia and Tisiphone would be all he really needed, when times grew dark. And they would. War was glorified when it was over and horrible to be in at the time.
“I’ll miss you, too,” he said and then opened his eyes when Pia shifted. He saw other people lifting their heads and looked skywards. His eyes widened and he frowned up at the birds, knowing they were a sign but...of what? Were they being sent as a portent that the God of War was with them? Or that he was displeased? Where was a priest when they needed one?
Pia murmured an invocation of Ares’s blessing and Stephanos swallowed, nodding. “Yes,” he agreed, even though he wasn’t entirely sure that he actually did. “This is a blessing. It’s a good thing,” he said more for her benefit than his and looked away from the birds. “This means Ares is with us.” Teasing, he added, “Now if only there was a flock of owls getting along with the birds. Then I know we will win.” If they had both Ares and Athena fighting together for them? There was no doubt Greece would be victorious in anything.
He turned then, giving each of them a last kiss and farewell before boarding the ship bound away from Colchis and towards his homeland.
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He leaned down, meeting Pia’s kiss briefly, and then laid his cheek on top of her head. If nothing else, at least he was going to war with the knowledge that his wife would be sad if he died. That was nice. A few weeks ago, with wine jugs and vases being flung at his head, he’d been less certain. Despite being surrounded by an untold number of people, all bidding goodbye, Stephanos had closed his eyes. It wasn’t easy, but he’d managed to block out the sounds of armor, footsteps, wailing, crunching earth beneath sandals, murmurs, shouts, creaking timbers, and instead focused on the scented perfumes in Pia’s hair, the silk of it against his cheek, and his baby daughter in his arm. When would he see them again? Would he see them again?
"I shall have Imma sketch her for you when we return home. So that you can carry a memory with you."
“All kinds,” he added. “Sleeping, awake, crying...doesn’t matter. And have her draw some of you, too.” Obviously Imma wouldn’t draw all the ones Stephanos would have liked to have, but an innocent one of Pia and Tisiphone would be all he really needed, when times grew dark. And they would. War was glorified when it was over and horrible to be in at the time.
“I’ll miss you, too,” he said and then opened his eyes when Pia shifted. He saw other people lifting their heads and looked skywards. His eyes widened and he frowned up at the birds, knowing they were a sign but...of what? Were they being sent as a portent that the God of War was with them? Or that he was displeased? Where was a priest when they needed one?
Pia murmured an invocation of Ares’s blessing and Stephanos swallowed, nodding. “Yes,” he agreed, even though he wasn’t entirely sure that he actually did. “This is a blessing. It’s a good thing,” he said more for her benefit than his and looked away from the birds. “This means Ares is with us.” Teasing, he added, “Now if only there was a flock of owls getting along with the birds. Then I know we will win.” If they had both Ares and Athena fighting together for them? There was no doubt Greece would be victorious in anything.
He turned then, giving each of them a last kiss and farewell before boarding the ship bound away from Colchis and towards his homeland.
He leaned down, meeting Pia’s kiss briefly, and then laid his cheek on top of her head. If nothing else, at least he was going to war with the knowledge that his wife would be sad if he died. That was nice. A few weeks ago, with wine jugs and vases being flung at his head, he’d been less certain. Despite being surrounded by an untold number of people, all bidding goodbye, Stephanos had closed his eyes. It wasn’t easy, but he’d managed to block out the sounds of armor, footsteps, wailing, crunching earth beneath sandals, murmurs, shouts, creaking timbers, and instead focused on the scented perfumes in Pia’s hair, the silk of it against his cheek, and his baby daughter in his arm. When would he see them again? Would he see them again?
"I shall have Imma sketch her for you when we return home. So that you can carry a memory with you."
“All kinds,” he added. “Sleeping, awake, crying...doesn’t matter. And have her draw some of you, too.” Obviously Imma wouldn’t draw all the ones Stephanos would have liked to have, but an innocent one of Pia and Tisiphone would be all he really needed, when times grew dark. And they would. War was glorified when it was over and horrible to be in at the time.
“I’ll miss you, too,” he said and then opened his eyes when Pia shifted. He saw other people lifting their heads and looked skywards. His eyes widened and he frowned up at the birds, knowing they were a sign but...of what? Were they being sent as a portent that the God of War was with them? Or that he was displeased? Where was a priest when they needed one?
Pia murmured an invocation of Ares’s blessing and Stephanos swallowed, nodding. “Yes,” he agreed, even though he wasn’t entirely sure that he actually did. “This is a blessing. It’s a good thing,” he said more for her benefit than his and looked away from the birds. “This means Ares is with us.” Teasing, he added, “Now if only there was a flock of owls getting along with the birds. Then I know we will win.” If they had both Ares and Athena fighting together for them? There was no doubt Greece would be victorious in anything.
He turned then, giving each of them a last kiss and farewell before boarding the ship bound away from Colchis and towards his homeland.
As much as the Queen wanted to believe that she would have her husband in her arms once more as he assured her she would, she knew that it was not a guarantee. It could very well be that she would never see him alive again, or perhaps she would see him once more as he returned victorious from war. There was so much uncertainty about everything, Yanni could almost feel it eating away at her.
Yanni felt like her moment with Tython was far too short as members of their family and extended family began to show up, to say goodbye or to leave with the King. This was the worst feeling for Yanni, seeing her husband off though she had only just gotten him back, and now seeing all but one of her sons off with him. She prayed desperately that the Gods would return all four of them back to her safe and sound, and then never see her husband from her arms again.
Their embrace ended and Yanni subtly wiped away any evidence that tears had fallen on her behalf. She did not need to appear weak in front of anyone, despite the fact that many wives and mothers were in hysterical tears around them as they said goodbye to their loved ones. War was never easy on anyone.
When Vangelis approached, Yanni moved and wordlessly hugged him tightly to her. Despite the very obvious size difference, he was still her child and if he was embarrassed to be seen with his mother hugging him as such, he would simply have to deal with it. She did not want to have her sons and husband leave with regrets that she did not bid them a proper farewell due to trying to seem proper. She had set aside her anger and disappointment at his recent choices in preference for a loving goodbye.
She let go of Vang as her second son approached, though he was not greeted with the same intense hug that his older brother was. Zanon would be staying behind in this war, and would be helping Yanni as she ruled once more in the name of her husband, as well as making sure their defences had a leader should their cities be attacked. Yanni might have ruled as Queen for thirty plus years, but she knew little of the mechanics of war or how to fight battles.
“Zanon.” She greeted, reaching over to place a hand on his arm and squeeze, a sign of affection that was more on par with the normally stoic Queen.
Suddenly there was a large swarm of birds, and everyone seemed to turn their attention towards them. She did not know if this was a good sign or a bad one, but she hoped it meant Ares would see her husband and sons home safe from another hard fought war.
Yanni’s attention went back to her husband as he spoke to her again, and she nodded as he told her to remember what they had talked about. She remembered perfectly, and had already had thought towards accomplishing what he had asked of her.
She kissed her husband back when she was kissed again.
“I love you. Come home to me.” She said simply, this time not allowing any sign of tears to show on her face.
She swallowed her sorrow as he began to walk away, knowing that soon enough they would all need to be on those ships and on their way away from her, and towards danger.
She had to bite her tongue to keep her emotions in, giving all three of her sons who were leaving one final hug before she stepped back to allow them to leave, her heart feeling heavier than it ever had before.
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As much as the Queen wanted to believe that she would have her husband in her arms once more as he assured her she would, she knew that it was not a guarantee. It could very well be that she would never see him alive again, or perhaps she would see him once more as he returned victorious from war. There was so much uncertainty about everything, Yanni could almost feel it eating away at her.
Yanni felt like her moment with Tython was far too short as members of their family and extended family began to show up, to say goodbye or to leave with the King. This was the worst feeling for Yanni, seeing her husband off though she had only just gotten him back, and now seeing all but one of her sons off with him. She prayed desperately that the Gods would return all four of them back to her safe and sound, and then never see her husband from her arms again.
Their embrace ended and Yanni subtly wiped away any evidence that tears had fallen on her behalf. She did not need to appear weak in front of anyone, despite the fact that many wives and mothers were in hysterical tears around them as they said goodbye to their loved ones. War was never easy on anyone.
When Vangelis approached, Yanni moved and wordlessly hugged him tightly to her. Despite the very obvious size difference, he was still her child and if he was embarrassed to be seen with his mother hugging him as such, he would simply have to deal with it. She did not want to have her sons and husband leave with regrets that she did not bid them a proper farewell due to trying to seem proper. She had set aside her anger and disappointment at his recent choices in preference for a loving goodbye.
She let go of Vang as her second son approached, though he was not greeted with the same intense hug that his older brother was. Zanon would be staying behind in this war, and would be helping Yanni as she ruled once more in the name of her husband, as well as making sure their defences had a leader should their cities be attacked. Yanni might have ruled as Queen for thirty plus years, but she knew little of the mechanics of war or how to fight battles.
“Zanon.” She greeted, reaching over to place a hand on his arm and squeeze, a sign of affection that was more on par with the normally stoic Queen.
Suddenly there was a large swarm of birds, and everyone seemed to turn their attention towards them. She did not know if this was a good sign or a bad one, but she hoped it meant Ares would see her husband and sons home safe from another hard fought war.
Yanni’s attention went back to her husband as he spoke to her again, and she nodded as he told her to remember what they had talked about. She remembered perfectly, and had already had thought towards accomplishing what he had asked of her.
She kissed her husband back when she was kissed again.
“I love you. Come home to me.” She said simply, this time not allowing any sign of tears to show on her face.
She swallowed her sorrow as he began to walk away, knowing that soon enough they would all need to be on those ships and on their way away from her, and towards danger.
She had to bite her tongue to keep her emotions in, giving all three of her sons who were leaving one final hug before she stepped back to allow them to leave, her heart feeling heavier than it ever had before.
As much as the Queen wanted to believe that she would have her husband in her arms once more as he assured her she would, she knew that it was not a guarantee. It could very well be that she would never see him alive again, or perhaps she would see him once more as he returned victorious from war. There was so much uncertainty about everything, Yanni could almost feel it eating away at her.
Yanni felt like her moment with Tython was far too short as members of their family and extended family began to show up, to say goodbye or to leave with the King. This was the worst feeling for Yanni, seeing her husband off though she had only just gotten him back, and now seeing all but one of her sons off with him. She prayed desperately that the Gods would return all four of them back to her safe and sound, and then never see her husband from her arms again.
Their embrace ended and Yanni subtly wiped away any evidence that tears had fallen on her behalf. She did not need to appear weak in front of anyone, despite the fact that many wives and mothers were in hysterical tears around them as they said goodbye to their loved ones. War was never easy on anyone.
When Vangelis approached, Yanni moved and wordlessly hugged him tightly to her. Despite the very obvious size difference, he was still her child and if he was embarrassed to be seen with his mother hugging him as such, he would simply have to deal with it. She did not want to have her sons and husband leave with regrets that she did not bid them a proper farewell due to trying to seem proper. She had set aside her anger and disappointment at his recent choices in preference for a loving goodbye.
She let go of Vang as her second son approached, though he was not greeted with the same intense hug that his older brother was. Zanon would be staying behind in this war, and would be helping Yanni as she ruled once more in the name of her husband, as well as making sure their defences had a leader should their cities be attacked. Yanni might have ruled as Queen for thirty plus years, but she knew little of the mechanics of war or how to fight battles.
“Zanon.” She greeted, reaching over to place a hand on his arm and squeeze, a sign of affection that was more on par with the normally stoic Queen.
Suddenly there was a large swarm of birds, and everyone seemed to turn their attention towards them. She did not know if this was a good sign or a bad one, but she hoped it meant Ares would see her husband and sons home safe from another hard fought war.
Yanni’s attention went back to her husband as he spoke to her again, and she nodded as he told her to remember what they had talked about. She remembered perfectly, and had already had thought towards accomplishing what he had asked of her.
She kissed her husband back when she was kissed again.
“I love you. Come home to me.” She said simply, this time not allowing any sign of tears to show on her face.
She swallowed her sorrow as he began to walk away, knowing that soon enough they would all need to be on those ships and on their way away from her, and towards danger.
She had to bite her tongue to keep her emotions in, giving all three of her sons who were leaving one final hug before she stepped back to allow them to leave, her heart feeling heavier than it ever had before.
Dressed in all his finery, it was strange but understandable to be given more attention by the general populace than by his own family. For in his attire and his shining appearance as both crown prince and leading General of the militia, it was hard for the common people of Colchis not to be drawn to the image of victory and triumph that he was - perhaps prematurely - displaying.
On the flip side of this, his family and he held a barrier of discontent that had never been there before. A gap that had been forged by a single error of judgement that, in so many ways, Vangelis still would not consider a fault, nor apologise for. He stood by his choices without regret - as his father had taught him - mourning a life he might have had otherwise but never wishing useless wishes upon something he couldn't change.
His family had taken a different course.
As Vangelis approached, seeing to his mother first as was his tradition and evidence of his respect for her, the Queen took him into her arms. The embrace was firm and communicated all that she loved in him, he was certain, but her silence as she then moved onto his brother spoke volumes as to her current disappointment.
He had been prepared to speak with her in that moment. To ask her to look after Thea. To will her that, whilst she might not agree with the path his life had taken, it was now upon such a path. That - regardless of the woman who carried it - his heir was in the world and due to appear in less than a year's time. That such things... he hoped would find protection and care within his home.
A few days ago, he would have held no doubt of that. Now... he was less certain.
And he was angry that his heart and mind were even tempted to feel such doubt in the solidarity of a family he had never once distrusted.
The request for his young to be protected by her wisdom and care died upon his tongue as Yanni dismissed her eldest in order to speak with her second born. Quashing a childish moment of jealousy given that Zanon wasn't going anywhere and would possess the Queen's time whenever he wished, Vangelis ensured that no such immaturity was shown on his face and simply backed away.
He nodded respectfully to Evras as he passed, his lips forming the words but offering no sound as he mimed the blessing - 'Stay healthy.' For, despite any disagreements he might have with his relations at this time, he wished for nothing more than a healthy niece or nephew and Evras' continuing presence within the Kotas home.
To Dion, he gave a ruffle of the boy's hair, before his nephew reached out to latch on around his leg. After a moment, however, Vangelis reached down to part his hold and shook his head.
"Princes don't show weakness." He told the boy.
And with a momentary look at his brother, Vangelis then turned away from his family.
Having not wished to render her emotional before a public crowd, Vangelis had said his goodbyes to Athanasia the night before. Telling her to be strong and pinching her nose as he always did. With his other brothers journeying with him, and his father being a soldier by his side, there was no-one else to whom Vangelis needed to make his peace.
Moving away from the little dais that his family had occupied, Vangelis hefted his spear upon his shoulder and looked up to the birds that settled upon his ship. His jaw widened as he clenched his teeth and his brow darkened a little in concentration.
So... Ares would be watching this one.
Taking the omen as neither good nor bad - only a promise of the God's attention and possibly of great death on the way - Vangelis only sent up a prayer within his mind that he would fight with all the courage and strength he possessed and would expect his men to do the same. Perhaps it would sway the War God's benevolence upon them.
But either way it would mean a hard fight ahead of them. For Ares did not bless the weak, nor the lazy.
Turning towards his ship - the same one that his father would ride upon - Vangelis moved through the crowds of his people, nodding in response to their formal bows and curtseys, accepting their words of blessing and faith and good fortune with a silent response of his own and refusing to take the little flowers and tokens that were offered his way. Occasionally, he murmured that they be given to the temple of Ares for the benefit of all the soldiers.
His progress was slow as the people of his nation wanted to wish their prince triumph and yet he continued to keep his gaze upon the ship his father now docked, his mind on his future rather than back with his family in the murky past of the last few days.
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Dressed in all his finery, it was strange but understandable to be given more attention by the general populace than by his own family. For in his attire and his shining appearance as both crown prince and leading General of the militia, it was hard for the common people of Colchis not to be drawn to the image of victory and triumph that he was - perhaps prematurely - displaying.
On the flip side of this, his family and he held a barrier of discontent that had never been there before. A gap that had been forged by a single error of judgement that, in so many ways, Vangelis still would not consider a fault, nor apologise for. He stood by his choices without regret - as his father had taught him - mourning a life he might have had otherwise but never wishing useless wishes upon something he couldn't change.
His family had taken a different course.
As Vangelis approached, seeing to his mother first as was his tradition and evidence of his respect for her, the Queen took him into her arms. The embrace was firm and communicated all that she loved in him, he was certain, but her silence as she then moved onto his brother spoke volumes as to her current disappointment.
He had been prepared to speak with her in that moment. To ask her to look after Thea. To will her that, whilst she might not agree with the path his life had taken, it was now upon such a path. That - regardless of the woman who carried it - his heir was in the world and due to appear in less than a year's time. That such things... he hoped would find protection and care within his home.
A few days ago, he would have held no doubt of that. Now... he was less certain.
And he was angry that his heart and mind were even tempted to feel such doubt in the solidarity of a family he had never once distrusted.
The request for his young to be protected by her wisdom and care died upon his tongue as Yanni dismissed her eldest in order to speak with her second born. Quashing a childish moment of jealousy given that Zanon wasn't going anywhere and would possess the Queen's time whenever he wished, Vangelis ensured that no such immaturity was shown on his face and simply backed away.
He nodded respectfully to Evras as he passed, his lips forming the words but offering no sound as he mimed the blessing - 'Stay healthy.' For, despite any disagreements he might have with his relations at this time, he wished for nothing more than a healthy niece or nephew and Evras' continuing presence within the Kotas home.
To Dion, he gave a ruffle of the boy's hair, before his nephew reached out to latch on around his leg. After a moment, however, Vangelis reached down to part his hold and shook his head.
"Princes don't show weakness." He told the boy.
And with a momentary look at his brother, Vangelis then turned away from his family.
Having not wished to render her emotional before a public crowd, Vangelis had said his goodbyes to Athanasia the night before. Telling her to be strong and pinching her nose as he always did. With his other brothers journeying with him, and his father being a soldier by his side, there was no-one else to whom Vangelis needed to make his peace.
Moving away from the little dais that his family had occupied, Vangelis hefted his spear upon his shoulder and looked up to the birds that settled upon his ship. His jaw widened as he clenched his teeth and his brow darkened a little in concentration.
So... Ares would be watching this one.
Taking the omen as neither good nor bad - only a promise of the God's attention and possibly of great death on the way - Vangelis only sent up a prayer within his mind that he would fight with all the courage and strength he possessed and would expect his men to do the same. Perhaps it would sway the War God's benevolence upon them.
But either way it would mean a hard fight ahead of them. For Ares did not bless the weak, nor the lazy.
Turning towards his ship - the same one that his father would ride upon - Vangelis moved through the crowds of his people, nodding in response to their formal bows and curtseys, accepting their words of blessing and faith and good fortune with a silent response of his own and refusing to take the little flowers and tokens that were offered his way. Occasionally, he murmured that they be given to the temple of Ares for the benefit of all the soldiers.
His progress was slow as the people of his nation wanted to wish their prince triumph and yet he continued to keep his gaze upon the ship his father now docked, his mind on his future rather than back with his family in the murky past of the last few days.
Dressed in all his finery, it was strange but understandable to be given more attention by the general populace than by his own family. For in his attire and his shining appearance as both crown prince and leading General of the militia, it was hard for the common people of Colchis not to be drawn to the image of victory and triumph that he was - perhaps prematurely - displaying.
On the flip side of this, his family and he held a barrier of discontent that had never been there before. A gap that had been forged by a single error of judgement that, in so many ways, Vangelis still would not consider a fault, nor apologise for. He stood by his choices without regret - as his father had taught him - mourning a life he might have had otherwise but never wishing useless wishes upon something he couldn't change.
His family had taken a different course.
As Vangelis approached, seeing to his mother first as was his tradition and evidence of his respect for her, the Queen took him into her arms. The embrace was firm and communicated all that she loved in him, he was certain, but her silence as she then moved onto his brother spoke volumes as to her current disappointment.
He had been prepared to speak with her in that moment. To ask her to look after Thea. To will her that, whilst she might not agree with the path his life had taken, it was now upon such a path. That - regardless of the woman who carried it - his heir was in the world and due to appear in less than a year's time. That such things... he hoped would find protection and care within his home.
A few days ago, he would have held no doubt of that. Now... he was less certain.
And he was angry that his heart and mind were even tempted to feel such doubt in the solidarity of a family he had never once distrusted.
The request for his young to be protected by her wisdom and care died upon his tongue as Yanni dismissed her eldest in order to speak with her second born. Quashing a childish moment of jealousy given that Zanon wasn't going anywhere and would possess the Queen's time whenever he wished, Vangelis ensured that no such immaturity was shown on his face and simply backed away.
He nodded respectfully to Evras as he passed, his lips forming the words but offering no sound as he mimed the blessing - 'Stay healthy.' For, despite any disagreements he might have with his relations at this time, he wished for nothing more than a healthy niece or nephew and Evras' continuing presence within the Kotas home.
To Dion, he gave a ruffle of the boy's hair, before his nephew reached out to latch on around his leg. After a moment, however, Vangelis reached down to part his hold and shook his head.
"Princes don't show weakness." He told the boy.
And with a momentary look at his brother, Vangelis then turned away from his family.
Having not wished to render her emotional before a public crowd, Vangelis had said his goodbyes to Athanasia the night before. Telling her to be strong and pinching her nose as he always did. With his other brothers journeying with him, and his father being a soldier by his side, there was no-one else to whom Vangelis needed to make his peace.
Moving away from the little dais that his family had occupied, Vangelis hefted his spear upon his shoulder and looked up to the birds that settled upon his ship. His jaw widened as he clenched his teeth and his brow darkened a little in concentration.
So... Ares would be watching this one.
Taking the omen as neither good nor bad - only a promise of the God's attention and possibly of great death on the way - Vangelis only sent up a prayer within his mind that he would fight with all the courage and strength he possessed and would expect his men to do the same. Perhaps it would sway the War God's benevolence upon them.
But either way it would mean a hard fight ahead of them. For Ares did not bless the weak, nor the lazy.
Turning towards his ship - the same one that his father would ride upon - Vangelis moved through the crowds of his people, nodding in response to their formal bows and curtseys, accepting their words of blessing and faith and good fortune with a silent response of his own and refusing to take the little flowers and tokens that were offered his way. Occasionally, he murmured that they be given to the temple of Ares for the benefit of all the soldiers.
His progress was slow as the people of his nation wanted to wish their prince triumph and yet he continued to keep his gaze upon the ship his father now docked, his mind on his future rather than back with his family in the murky past of the last few days.
Her eyes scanned the crowd ardenty, hoping that she could spot someone-- anyone-- who could hand over the letter to the crown prince. She wasn’t about to give it to one of the soldiers filing onto the ship, for she needed to be able to trust whomever took it. There was a hope that she could locate a family member of his, perhaps Silas who would not have heard the news yet, or even Nike. But the Gods were not on her side, and as the crows started to gather round the ship, she found the pit of her stomach dropping out.
Their eyes were on this moment.
Swallowing down the worry that came with the sign, she hoped it meant that Ares was in favor of the Greeks, that he would see them safely. Any other thought would drive her mad.
As she pushed through the crowd, working her way closer to the ship, Selene was trying not to panic. She was too far from Tython, and too slow to try and get his attention as he left his family. Her eyes followed his path, hoping to find someone else she could ask a favor from. It only took her a moment to spot the familiar mop of dark hair, unable to deny that she would know the confident sway without much of a second thought. She could hear the excitement growing, for this kingdom looked at these sort of goodbyes far differently than her own.
With a deep breath, she pushed through the crown, trying to catch up to him. Selene hadn’t wanted to give him the letter herself, but she saw no other option, and she wasn’t going to let him board that ship without having it on his person. ”Vangelis!” She said, praying that her voice would carry over the crowd. As small as she felt, she was able to push through the crowd. Some recognized her, but most didn’t, and so she wasn’t given a second glance, not with everyone around them so focused on themselves.
He was within arm’s reach, but she doubted that he would be able to hear her now. She reached out, thanking the gods as her small hand wrapped around his wrist to stop him. Her fingers seemed to slip in between the leather bracers to feel the heat of his skin. A part of her was glad for the contact, for she would have been certain that he wasn’t real otherwise.
She hadn’t realized how much she had needed to see him off until her fingers were warm against his wrist.
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Her eyes scanned the crowd ardenty, hoping that she could spot someone-- anyone-- who could hand over the letter to the crown prince. She wasn’t about to give it to one of the soldiers filing onto the ship, for she needed to be able to trust whomever took it. There was a hope that she could locate a family member of his, perhaps Silas who would not have heard the news yet, or even Nike. But the Gods were not on her side, and as the crows started to gather round the ship, she found the pit of her stomach dropping out.
Their eyes were on this moment.
Swallowing down the worry that came with the sign, she hoped it meant that Ares was in favor of the Greeks, that he would see them safely. Any other thought would drive her mad.
As she pushed through the crowd, working her way closer to the ship, Selene was trying not to panic. She was too far from Tython, and too slow to try and get his attention as he left his family. Her eyes followed his path, hoping to find someone else she could ask a favor from. It only took her a moment to spot the familiar mop of dark hair, unable to deny that she would know the confident sway without much of a second thought. She could hear the excitement growing, for this kingdom looked at these sort of goodbyes far differently than her own.
With a deep breath, she pushed through the crown, trying to catch up to him. Selene hadn’t wanted to give him the letter herself, but she saw no other option, and she wasn’t going to let him board that ship without having it on his person. ”Vangelis!” She said, praying that her voice would carry over the crowd. As small as she felt, she was able to push through the crowd. Some recognized her, but most didn’t, and so she wasn’t given a second glance, not with everyone around them so focused on themselves.
He was within arm’s reach, but she doubted that he would be able to hear her now. She reached out, thanking the gods as her small hand wrapped around his wrist to stop him. Her fingers seemed to slip in between the leather bracers to feel the heat of his skin. A part of her was glad for the contact, for she would have been certain that he wasn’t real otherwise.
She hadn’t realized how much she had needed to see him off until her fingers were warm against his wrist.
Her eyes scanned the crowd ardenty, hoping that she could spot someone-- anyone-- who could hand over the letter to the crown prince. She wasn’t about to give it to one of the soldiers filing onto the ship, for she needed to be able to trust whomever took it. There was a hope that she could locate a family member of his, perhaps Silas who would not have heard the news yet, or even Nike. But the Gods were not on her side, and as the crows started to gather round the ship, she found the pit of her stomach dropping out.
Their eyes were on this moment.
Swallowing down the worry that came with the sign, she hoped it meant that Ares was in favor of the Greeks, that he would see them safely. Any other thought would drive her mad.
As she pushed through the crowd, working her way closer to the ship, Selene was trying not to panic. She was too far from Tython, and too slow to try and get his attention as he left his family. Her eyes followed his path, hoping to find someone else she could ask a favor from. It only took her a moment to spot the familiar mop of dark hair, unable to deny that she would know the confident sway without much of a second thought. She could hear the excitement growing, for this kingdom looked at these sort of goodbyes far differently than her own.
With a deep breath, she pushed through the crown, trying to catch up to him. Selene hadn’t wanted to give him the letter herself, but she saw no other option, and she wasn’t going to let him board that ship without having it on his person. ”Vangelis!” She said, praying that her voice would carry over the crowd. As small as she felt, she was able to push through the crowd. Some recognized her, but most didn’t, and so she wasn’t given a second glance, not with everyone around them so focused on themselves.
He was within arm’s reach, but she doubted that he would be able to hear her now. She reached out, thanking the gods as her small hand wrapped around his wrist to stop him. Her fingers seemed to slip in between the leather bracers to feel the heat of his skin. A part of her was glad for the contact, for she would have been certain that he wasn’t real otherwise.
She hadn’t realized how much she had needed to see him off until her fingers were warm against his wrist.
The crowds were loud but in an odd way that seemed to only occur when he or his soldiers parted for war. In celebrations and festivities, the general volume of the crowd was excessive and pitched in ups and downs that assaulted the ears of those present but never seemed to be clear in what they were saying. Noise without words.
When Vangelis had left his home for war there was always a noise but it was quieter. So many voices murmuring their goodbyes or whispering blessings - no single call or moment rose above the others. But due to the sheer volume of people, the number of the Colchian populace that would travel to the docklands to say goodbye, the volume of voices was almost as loud as festivities, but kept at a monotone... no pitches, no spikes. Just a general hum of well-wishes and departures.
So, when a single voice called out. Whilst it was hard to hear initially, it did attract attention. At least for Vangelis.
Whether that was due to the way in which others didn't rise above the crowd and this one did, in an open call, or the fact that the single word that was called was of his own name - his given name; without title or formality - or simply because he recognised the voice above others, Vangelis wasn't certain.
All he knew was that the single word had him looking out across the heads of the people, his gaze on the swivel in order to try and pinpoint where the speaker now stood. Her diminutive size and place in the crowd, however, had her impossible to spot - masked by the bodies - right up to the moment where he felt a warm touch upon his wrist. Turning, Vangelis' gaze immediately found her face and, without conscious thought, his fingers naturally curled up and around to brush at her palm, as if wishing to hold her hand...
“Selene…”
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The crowds were loud but in an odd way that seemed to only occur when he or his soldiers parted for war. In celebrations and festivities, the general volume of the crowd was excessive and pitched in ups and downs that assaulted the ears of those present but never seemed to be clear in what they were saying. Noise without words.
When Vangelis had left his home for war there was always a noise but it was quieter. So many voices murmuring their goodbyes or whispering blessings - no single call or moment rose above the others. But due to the sheer volume of people, the number of the Colchian populace that would travel to the docklands to say goodbye, the volume of voices was almost as loud as festivities, but kept at a monotone... no pitches, no spikes. Just a general hum of well-wishes and departures.
So, when a single voice called out. Whilst it was hard to hear initially, it did attract attention. At least for Vangelis.
Whether that was due to the way in which others didn't rise above the crowd and this one did, in an open call, or the fact that the single word that was called was of his own name - his given name; without title or formality - or simply because he recognised the voice above others, Vangelis wasn't certain.
All he knew was that the single word had him looking out across the heads of the people, his gaze on the swivel in order to try and pinpoint where the speaker now stood. Her diminutive size and place in the crowd, however, had her impossible to spot - masked by the bodies - right up to the moment where he felt a warm touch upon his wrist. Turning, Vangelis' gaze immediately found her face and, without conscious thought, his fingers naturally curled up and around to brush at her palm, as if wishing to hold her hand...
“Selene…”
The crowds were loud but in an odd way that seemed to only occur when he or his soldiers parted for war. In celebrations and festivities, the general volume of the crowd was excessive and pitched in ups and downs that assaulted the ears of those present but never seemed to be clear in what they were saying. Noise without words.
When Vangelis had left his home for war there was always a noise but it was quieter. So many voices murmuring their goodbyes or whispering blessings - no single call or moment rose above the others. But due to the sheer volume of people, the number of the Colchian populace that would travel to the docklands to say goodbye, the volume of voices was almost as loud as festivities, but kept at a monotone... no pitches, no spikes. Just a general hum of well-wishes and departures.
So, when a single voice called out. Whilst it was hard to hear initially, it did attract attention. At least for Vangelis.
Whether that was due to the way in which others didn't rise above the crowd and this one did, in an open call, or the fact that the single word that was called was of his own name - his given name; without title or formality - or simply because he recognised the voice above others, Vangelis wasn't certain.
All he knew was that the single word had him looking out across the heads of the people, his gaze on the swivel in order to try and pinpoint where the speaker now stood. Her diminutive size and place in the crowd, however, had her impossible to spot - masked by the bodies - right up to the moment where he felt a warm touch upon his wrist. Turning, Vangelis' gaze immediately found her face and, without conscious thought, his fingers naturally curled up and around to brush at her palm, as if wishing to hold her hand...
“Selene…”
A part of her hoped she had been wrong in her estimation of who it was. Colchis was fill of tall, dark-haired men and the actual possibility of it being Vangelis were slim, at best. As much desire and need filled her heart to say goodbye, it wouldn’t have been hard for her to make up the person in her mind to be who she needed it to be. So when he turned, her breath caught in her throat at the familiar set of blue eyes that seemed to read her very soul.
She almost pushed him away, a hint of doubt and regret in her mind. This seemed like a better idea when it was appearing to be, but there was a moment where she could see everything so clearly.
He was exhausted, as far as she could tell. But she couldn’t imagine that these past few days had been easy. And with as rapidly as things had come to pass, she was certain that they had both spent their nights wide awake, even if it had been for reasons that differed. Both would have been worried about their futures, but while hers was uncertain, his was set-- he knew what was waiting for him when he got home. And by the look in his face, it was not a future that he had wanted. And the way that his hand curled into hers, fingers against her palm, told her that everything she’d written in her letter was true.
He cared for her. This was tearing him apart just as much as it was breaking her. They were in this together, but couldn’t share a single piece of the pain. Being this close to him, she almost forgot why she had reached out to stop him. Glancing over his shoulder, she could see that the boats were loading in droves now, and she was delaying him. ”Vangelis… I…” Her tongue felt dry and thick in her mouth, darting out to wet her lips to try and help the situation. ”Here, one final letter?” Her freehand reached into her pocket, pulling out the small, neatly written letter that she had poured her time into only a few hours prior.
The note caught the corner of her pocket, breaking from her hand to fall to the ground. She was glad that it hadn’t rained recently. ”Damn it.” She said, letting her knees crumble below her to recover the letter. She felt like she was making a fool of herself, but he was here and real.
And she couldn’t lose her courage now.
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A part of her hoped she had been wrong in her estimation of who it was. Colchis was fill of tall, dark-haired men and the actual possibility of it being Vangelis were slim, at best. As much desire and need filled her heart to say goodbye, it wouldn’t have been hard for her to make up the person in her mind to be who she needed it to be. So when he turned, her breath caught in her throat at the familiar set of blue eyes that seemed to read her very soul.
She almost pushed him away, a hint of doubt and regret in her mind. This seemed like a better idea when it was appearing to be, but there was a moment where she could see everything so clearly.
He was exhausted, as far as she could tell. But she couldn’t imagine that these past few days had been easy. And with as rapidly as things had come to pass, she was certain that they had both spent their nights wide awake, even if it had been for reasons that differed. Both would have been worried about their futures, but while hers was uncertain, his was set-- he knew what was waiting for him when he got home. And by the look in his face, it was not a future that he had wanted. And the way that his hand curled into hers, fingers against her palm, told her that everything she’d written in her letter was true.
He cared for her. This was tearing him apart just as much as it was breaking her. They were in this together, but couldn’t share a single piece of the pain. Being this close to him, she almost forgot why she had reached out to stop him. Glancing over his shoulder, she could see that the boats were loading in droves now, and she was delaying him. ”Vangelis… I…” Her tongue felt dry and thick in her mouth, darting out to wet her lips to try and help the situation. ”Here, one final letter?” Her freehand reached into her pocket, pulling out the small, neatly written letter that she had poured her time into only a few hours prior.
The note caught the corner of her pocket, breaking from her hand to fall to the ground. She was glad that it hadn’t rained recently. ”Damn it.” She said, letting her knees crumble below her to recover the letter. She felt like she was making a fool of herself, but he was here and real.
And she couldn’t lose her courage now.
A part of her hoped she had been wrong in her estimation of who it was. Colchis was fill of tall, dark-haired men and the actual possibility of it being Vangelis were slim, at best. As much desire and need filled her heart to say goodbye, it wouldn’t have been hard for her to make up the person in her mind to be who she needed it to be. So when he turned, her breath caught in her throat at the familiar set of blue eyes that seemed to read her very soul.
She almost pushed him away, a hint of doubt and regret in her mind. This seemed like a better idea when it was appearing to be, but there was a moment where she could see everything so clearly.
He was exhausted, as far as she could tell. But she couldn’t imagine that these past few days had been easy. And with as rapidly as things had come to pass, she was certain that they had both spent their nights wide awake, even if it had been for reasons that differed. Both would have been worried about their futures, but while hers was uncertain, his was set-- he knew what was waiting for him when he got home. And by the look in his face, it was not a future that he had wanted. And the way that his hand curled into hers, fingers against her palm, told her that everything she’d written in her letter was true.
He cared for her. This was tearing him apart just as much as it was breaking her. They were in this together, but couldn’t share a single piece of the pain. Being this close to him, she almost forgot why she had reached out to stop him. Glancing over his shoulder, she could see that the boats were loading in droves now, and she was delaying him. ”Vangelis… I…” Her tongue felt dry and thick in her mouth, darting out to wet her lips to try and help the situation. ”Here, one final letter?” Her freehand reached into her pocket, pulling out the small, neatly written letter that she had poured her time into only a few hours prior.
The note caught the corner of her pocket, breaking from her hand to fall to the ground. She was glad that it hadn’t rained recently. ”Damn it.” She said, letting her knees crumble below her to recover the letter. She felt like she was making a fool of herself, but he was here and real.
And she couldn’t lose her courage now.
Vangelis was not an overtly sensitive man, nor a sentimental one. The touch of his hand on hers had been instinctive - not an act that he had logically or consciously sought or thought upon; but one that his natural closeness to Selene had warranted a necessity.
He was also entirely unconscious of the fact that his face revealed the tiredness and stress of the last few days. Perhaps it was only she who would notice - the woman who had been assessing his face and looking for answers in his features for months - or perhaps it was obvious enough for all to notice. He wasn't sure which was a more worrying idea. That he was showing his worry to all of his people. Or that Selene had come to learn him so well and yet was now given nothing in return for such efforts.
Knowing that this moment was forced to be fleeting - for he needed to board the ship and their connection was no longer a formal excuse to keep his men waiting - Vangelis had turned his shoulders as if to walk away when her words had his feet planting and his attention fixed back on her face.
Dropping his stare to where she fiddled with something from amongst her gowns, Vangelis noted a flash of familial vanilla parchment that she entitled the 'final' letter. The phrase had his throat dry and the muscles in his neck contract.
But before such an emotion could reach beyond his throat and to his features, the note was dropped and Selene cursed in a manner that amused the prince before her. For it was rare to hear Selene mutter any such undignified words and to do so now only showed how their relationship had drawn closer. The amusement was short-lived, however, when he was reminded of how such a closeness was now rendered moot.
His upbringing, causing a naturally gentlemanly reaction, Vangelis lowered himself to a crouch, splaying his bare knees and holding onto his spear for support as he too reached for the rolled and sealed letter.
His fingers took hold of it, the pad of his thumb and finger tight to ensure he would not drop it to the floor a second time, as she passed it to him, their gazes clashing in their cocoon of other people's chiton-clad legs...
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Vangelis was not an overtly sensitive man, nor a sentimental one. The touch of his hand on hers had been instinctive - not an act that he had logically or consciously sought or thought upon; but one that his natural closeness to Selene had warranted a necessity.
He was also entirely unconscious of the fact that his face revealed the tiredness and stress of the last few days. Perhaps it was only she who would notice - the woman who had been assessing his face and looking for answers in his features for months - or perhaps it was obvious enough for all to notice. He wasn't sure which was a more worrying idea. That he was showing his worry to all of his people. Or that Selene had come to learn him so well and yet was now given nothing in return for such efforts.
Knowing that this moment was forced to be fleeting - for he needed to board the ship and their connection was no longer a formal excuse to keep his men waiting - Vangelis had turned his shoulders as if to walk away when her words had his feet planting and his attention fixed back on her face.
Dropping his stare to where she fiddled with something from amongst her gowns, Vangelis noted a flash of familial vanilla parchment that she entitled the 'final' letter. The phrase had his throat dry and the muscles in his neck contract.
But before such an emotion could reach beyond his throat and to his features, the note was dropped and Selene cursed in a manner that amused the prince before her. For it was rare to hear Selene mutter any such undignified words and to do so now only showed how their relationship had drawn closer. The amusement was short-lived, however, when he was reminded of how such a closeness was now rendered moot.
His upbringing, causing a naturally gentlemanly reaction, Vangelis lowered himself to a crouch, splaying his bare knees and holding onto his spear for support as he too reached for the rolled and sealed letter.
His fingers took hold of it, the pad of his thumb and finger tight to ensure he would not drop it to the floor a second time, as she passed it to him, their gazes clashing in their cocoon of other people's chiton-clad legs...
Vangelis was not an overtly sensitive man, nor a sentimental one. The touch of his hand on hers had been instinctive - not an act that he had logically or consciously sought or thought upon; but one that his natural closeness to Selene had warranted a necessity.
He was also entirely unconscious of the fact that his face revealed the tiredness and stress of the last few days. Perhaps it was only she who would notice - the woman who had been assessing his face and looking for answers in his features for months - or perhaps it was obvious enough for all to notice. He wasn't sure which was a more worrying idea. That he was showing his worry to all of his people. Or that Selene had come to learn him so well and yet was now given nothing in return for such efforts.
Knowing that this moment was forced to be fleeting - for he needed to board the ship and their connection was no longer a formal excuse to keep his men waiting - Vangelis had turned his shoulders as if to walk away when her words had his feet planting and his attention fixed back on her face.
Dropping his stare to where she fiddled with something from amongst her gowns, Vangelis noted a flash of familial vanilla parchment that she entitled the 'final' letter. The phrase had his throat dry and the muscles in his neck contract.
But before such an emotion could reach beyond his throat and to his features, the note was dropped and Selene cursed in a manner that amused the prince before her. For it was rare to hear Selene mutter any such undignified words and to do so now only showed how their relationship had drawn closer. The amusement was short-lived, however, when he was reminded of how such a closeness was now rendered moot.
His upbringing, causing a naturally gentlemanly reaction, Vangelis lowered himself to a crouch, splaying his bare knees and holding onto his spear for support as he too reached for the rolled and sealed letter.
His fingers took hold of it, the pad of his thumb and finger tight to ensure he would not drop it to the floor a second time, as she passed it to him, their gazes clashing in their cocoon of other people's chiton-clad legs...
She was talking to herself in her head, trying to focus on the goal, on what needed to be done. It should have been a simple task, to simply pick up the dropped note and place it in his hands. Was she shaking? She couldn’t tell really what was going on in her mind, only that she felt so exposed and overwhelmed that she couldn’t find a way to keep a grip on her own reality.
What was real? What has she made up in her mind?
She looked up just as he bent down to grab the letter as well, his fingers locking tightly on the small, folded piece of paper. It should have been as easy as him bending down to pick it up, then returning upright. And with his firm grip so not to drop the letter again, it made sense for that to be his next action. There was the anticipation, so unlike any that she had ever felt, that this moment would end. That he would stand, and say goodbye and board the ship. It made her feel so utterly hopeless inside to think that it would be it. All of this would end in the space of a breath. And she would be left to pick up the pieces of her newly demolished life.
She wasn’t ready.
With the note firmly in his hand, it left hers free to act out against her better judgment. It grabbed onto the material of his tunic, brushing the leather of his pauldrons as she did. Her eyes bore into his, certainly wet with unshed tears. Could a look say everything she had hoped it could? Would it tell him to be safe, to return in one piece to live a life she had hoped he would find to the fullest? Would it show forgiveness and understanding? Her eyes dropped briefly to his lips, and another thought pushed the rest aside.
And as if the world knew they needed a moment, time seemed to slow. When had they shared their last kiss? Certainly it hadn’t been some monumental moment between the two. She thought back, trying her best to retrace the days before it all came to a sad head. It would have been when he escorted her back to her room the evening he gave her the statue, she finally realized. With the firm understanding between them about how things were to be until he returned, the kiss had been simple. She’d pressed up onto her toes, her lips gingerly meeting his in a sweet, chaste kiss before he bid her goodnight and was off. No backwards glance at her, no comprehension that it would be the last. It had been left with knowledge that there would be at least a few more before he was off to war.
It wasn’t enough.
There was no stopping her actions, her mind so consumed with this being the end that all sense went out the window. He was no longer hers, and yet she pulled him towards her as if he was. Her eyes pressed shut as her other hand moved to his face at the exact moment that her lips were on his. It was impossible to tell if this was going to make the whole thing feel better, but she couldn’t let him leave without knowing this was the final kiss. That this was their ending. Everything else was out of their control, but they could have this.
Her lips were wet against his, far more akin to the kiss they shared in the library than the chaste ones prior to it. And she hoped that he needed it just as much as she did.
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She was talking to herself in her head, trying to focus on the goal, on what needed to be done. It should have been a simple task, to simply pick up the dropped note and place it in his hands. Was she shaking? She couldn’t tell really what was going on in her mind, only that she felt so exposed and overwhelmed that she couldn’t find a way to keep a grip on her own reality.
What was real? What has she made up in her mind?
She looked up just as he bent down to grab the letter as well, his fingers locking tightly on the small, folded piece of paper. It should have been as easy as him bending down to pick it up, then returning upright. And with his firm grip so not to drop the letter again, it made sense for that to be his next action. There was the anticipation, so unlike any that she had ever felt, that this moment would end. That he would stand, and say goodbye and board the ship. It made her feel so utterly hopeless inside to think that it would be it. All of this would end in the space of a breath. And she would be left to pick up the pieces of her newly demolished life.
She wasn’t ready.
With the note firmly in his hand, it left hers free to act out against her better judgment. It grabbed onto the material of his tunic, brushing the leather of his pauldrons as she did. Her eyes bore into his, certainly wet with unshed tears. Could a look say everything she had hoped it could? Would it tell him to be safe, to return in one piece to live a life she had hoped he would find to the fullest? Would it show forgiveness and understanding? Her eyes dropped briefly to his lips, and another thought pushed the rest aside.
And as if the world knew they needed a moment, time seemed to slow. When had they shared their last kiss? Certainly it hadn’t been some monumental moment between the two. She thought back, trying her best to retrace the days before it all came to a sad head. It would have been when he escorted her back to her room the evening he gave her the statue, she finally realized. With the firm understanding between them about how things were to be until he returned, the kiss had been simple. She’d pressed up onto her toes, her lips gingerly meeting his in a sweet, chaste kiss before he bid her goodnight and was off. No backwards glance at her, no comprehension that it would be the last. It had been left with knowledge that there would be at least a few more before he was off to war.
It wasn’t enough.
There was no stopping her actions, her mind so consumed with this being the end that all sense went out the window. He was no longer hers, and yet she pulled him towards her as if he was. Her eyes pressed shut as her other hand moved to his face at the exact moment that her lips were on his. It was impossible to tell if this was going to make the whole thing feel better, but she couldn’t let him leave without knowing this was the final kiss. That this was their ending. Everything else was out of their control, but they could have this.
Her lips were wet against his, far more akin to the kiss they shared in the library than the chaste ones prior to it. And she hoped that he needed it just as much as she did.
She was talking to herself in her head, trying to focus on the goal, on what needed to be done. It should have been a simple task, to simply pick up the dropped note and place it in his hands. Was she shaking? She couldn’t tell really what was going on in her mind, only that she felt so exposed and overwhelmed that she couldn’t find a way to keep a grip on her own reality.
What was real? What has she made up in her mind?
She looked up just as he bent down to grab the letter as well, his fingers locking tightly on the small, folded piece of paper. It should have been as easy as him bending down to pick it up, then returning upright. And with his firm grip so not to drop the letter again, it made sense for that to be his next action. There was the anticipation, so unlike any that she had ever felt, that this moment would end. That he would stand, and say goodbye and board the ship. It made her feel so utterly hopeless inside to think that it would be it. All of this would end in the space of a breath. And she would be left to pick up the pieces of her newly demolished life.
She wasn’t ready.
With the note firmly in his hand, it left hers free to act out against her better judgment. It grabbed onto the material of his tunic, brushing the leather of his pauldrons as she did. Her eyes bore into his, certainly wet with unshed tears. Could a look say everything she had hoped it could? Would it tell him to be safe, to return in one piece to live a life she had hoped he would find to the fullest? Would it show forgiveness and understanding? Her eyes dropped briefly to his lips, and another thought pushed the rest aside.
And as if the world knew they needed a moment, time seemed to slow. When had they shared their last kiss? Certainly it hadn’t been some monumental moment between the two. She thought back, trying her best to retrace the days before it all came to a sad head. It would have been when he escorted her back to her room the evening he gave her the statue, she finally realized. With the firm understanding between them about how things were to be until he returned, the kiss had been simple. She’d pressed up onto her toes, her lips gingerly meeting his in a sweet, chaste kiss before he bid her goodnight and was off. No backwards glance at her, no comprehension that it would be the last. It had been left with knowledge that there would be at least a few more before he was off to war.
It wasn’t enough.
There was no stopping her actions, her mind so consumed with this being the end that all sense went out the window. He was no longer hers, and yet she pulled him towards her as if he was. Her eyes pressed shut as her other hand moved to his face at the exact moment that her lips were on his. It was impossible to tell if this was going to make the whole thing feel better, but she couldn’t let him leave without knowing this was the final kiss. That this was their ending. Everything else was out of their control, but they could have this.
Her lips were wet against his, far more akin to the kiss they shared in the library than the chaste ones prior to it. And she hoped that he needed it just as much as she did.
Having secured the letter in hand, it was absolutely the next task in his mind to stand and head to the ship. He would simply need to stand, slip the note beneath a strap or belt of his attire to be read at a later moment and then leave the presence of Selene, and of the crowd, and make his way to war. It wasn't so difficult a task and it was certainly where his mind had started to progress to when Selene met his gaze.
Her eyes bright with unshed tears, her lips parted on an emotion she couldn't seem to speak and her beauty refreshed in his mind - reminding him of how she had been spoken of as blessed by Aphrodite herself - Vangelis' muscles tensed and stilled in a moment’s hesitation. The uncurling of his legs and his movement upwards was stilled for just a second, his weight settling back and needing a moment to repeat.
It was in that moment of stillness and hesitation that Vangelis was caught unawares by Selene's advance. For whilst he believed in her affections to a certain point, believed in her genuine joy at accepting his proposal of marriage only two weeks ago... he hadn't been led to believe (as far as he knew) that she was bold enough in such affections to enact upon them in a crowded space.
Then again... the world in which they had accidentally found themselves - hidden from the view of many by the cloaks and gowns of well-wishers - gave them a certain cocoon of privacy. Only the very closest could witness the crown prince and what he might have been doing down amongst the ankles of his people and, so far, the moment had been so fleeting that none had paused to turn it into a spectacle of alarm.
Instead, Selene and Vangelis were left in an almost quiet bubble of intimacy that the blonde took full advantage of, unable to resist leaning forwards to claim his lips with hers.
By all rights and morals, Vangelis should have pushed Selene away. Whilst he could not be wholly pleased by the outcome of his... encounter with Thea in his father's study, he could quantify it by the fact that there had been no formal arrangement between himself and Selene.
Now, he was formally betrothed to Thea.
Whilst the announcement had not been made formally, his vow had been made to her and by all rules of his creed of honour, Vangelis was now dallying with another.
Yet, there was great difficulty in refusing to kiss someone that offered themselves to you with such untutored enthusiasm and emotion. He could almost feel a tremble in her lips.
Frowning around the kiss in an expression lost to them both that only spoke of his conflict, Vangelis was forced to behave on impulse and in a flash of eagerness, he kissed her back. His eyes closed, his mouth claimed hers, he leant into her warmth.
And, almost as quickly, he then tore away, stood up and strode towards his ship without a backward glance...
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Having secured the letter in hand, it was absolutely the next task in his mind to stand and head to the ship. He would simply need to stand, slip the note beneath a strap or belt of his attire to be read at a later moment and then leave the presence of Selene, and of the crowd, and make his way to war. It wasn't so difficult a task and it was certainly where his mind had started to progress to when Selene met his gaze.
Her eyes bright with unshed tears, her lips parted on an emotion she couldn't seem to speak and her beauty refreshed in his mind - reminding him of how she had been spoken of as blessed by Aphrodite herself - Vangelis' muscles tensed and stilled in a moment’s hesitation. The uncurling of his legs and his movement upwards was stilled for just a second, his weight settling back and needing a moment to repeat.
It was in that moment of stillness and hesitation that Vangelis was caught unawares by Selene's advance. For whilst he believed in her affections to a certain point, believed in her genuine joy at accepting his proposal of marriage only two weeks ago... he hadn't been led to believe (as far as he knew) that she was bold enough in such affections to enact upon them in a crowded space.
Then again... the world in which they had accidentally found themselves - hidden from the view of many by the cloaks and gowns of well-wishers - gave them a certain cocoon of privacy. Only the very closest could witness the crown prince and what he might have been doing down amongst the ankles of his people and, so far, the moment had been so fleeting that none had paused to turn it into a spectacle of alarm.
Instead, Selene and Vangelis were left in an almost quiet bubble of intimacy that the blonde took full advantage of, unable to resist leaning forwards to claim his lips with hers.
By all rights and morals, Vangelis should have pushed Selene away. Whilst he could not be wholly pleased by the outcome of his... encounter with Thea in his father's study, he could quantify it by the fact that there had been no formal arrangement between himself and Selene.
Now, he was formally betrothed to Thea.
Whilst the announcement had not been made formally, his vow had been made to her and by all rules of his creed of honour, Vangelis was now dallying with another.
Yet, there was great difficulty in refusing to kiss someone that offered themselves to you with such untutored enthusiasm and emotion. He could almost feel a tremble in her lips.
Frowning around the kiss in an expression lost to them both that only spoke of his conflict, Vangelis was forced to behave on impulse and in a flash of eagerness, he kissed her back. His eyes closed, his mouth claimed hers, he leant into her warmth.
And, almost as quickly, he then tore away, stood up and strode towards his ship without a backward glance...
Having secured the letter in hand, it was absolutely the next task in his mind to stand and head to the ship. He would simply need to stand, slip the note beneath a strap or belt of his attire to be read at a later moment and then leave the presence of Selene, and of the crowd, and make his way to war. It wasn't so difficult a task and it was certainly where his mind had started to progress to when Selene met his gaze.
Her eyes bright with unshed tears, her lips parted on an emotion she couldn't seem to speak and her beauty refreshed in his mind - reminding him of how she had been spoken of as blessed by Aphrodite herself - Vangelis' muscles tensed and stilled in a moment’s hesitation. The uncurling of his legs and his movement upwards was stilled for just a second, his weight settling back and needing a moment to repeat.
It was in that moment of stillness and hesitation that Vangelis was caught unawares by Selene's advance. For whilst he believed in her affections to a certain point, believed in her genuine joy at accepting his proposal of marriage only two weeks ago... he hadn't been led to believe (as far as he knew) that she was bold enough in such affections to enact upon them in a crowded space.
Then again... the world in which they had accidentally found themselves - hidden from the view of many by the cloaks and gowns of well-wishers - gave them a certain cocoon of privacy. Only the very closest could witness the crown prince and what he might have been doing down amongst the ankles of his people and, so far, the moment had been so fleeting that none had paused to turn it into a spectacle of alarm.
Instead, Selene and Vangelis were left in an almost quiet bubble of intimacy that the blonde took full advantage of, unable to resist leaning forwards to claim his lips with hers.
By all rights and morals, Vangelis should have pushed Selene away. Whilst he could not be wholly pleased by the outcome of his... encounter with Thea in his father's study, he could quantify it by the fact that there had been no formal arrangement between himself and Selene.
Now, he was formally betrothed to Thea.
Whilst the announcement had not been made formally, his vow had been made to her and by all rules of his creed of honour, Vangelis was now dallying with another.
Yet, there was great difficulty in refusing to kiss someone that offered themselves to you with such untutored enthusiasm and emotion. He could almost feel a tremble in her lips.
Frowning around the kiss in an expression lost to them both that only spoke of his conflict, Vangelis was forced to behave on impulse and in a flash of eagerness, he kissed her back. His eyes closed, his mouth claimed hers, he leant into her warmth.
And, almost as quickly, he then tore away, stood up and strode towards his ship without a backward glance...
She knew, in her core, that this was wrong. He no longer had claim to her, and she could not say that he was hers. Everything had ended, and yet nothing about this felt right in the first place. She should not be the one sneaking in her goodbye. She should not be preparing to leave shortly behind him to return home. Selene should have been nestled up with the rest of his family, offering her goodbyes and well-wishes as one of them.
Everything about this was wrong.
Her letter, now in his hands, should have been one of hopeful joy, not of love and regret. This kiss should have been an open one, not one that was stolen in a moment that should have never been. She wanted to feel guilty about it, but she couldn’t. Whatever she had done to anger the Gods had been done, and if she was to add to their fire, so be it.
There had been an initial reluctance, but it only lasted the briefest of moments before it was returned with just as much fervor as she was giving. She couldn’t help but feel as if he had needed this, too. And while she couldn’t read his mind, there was a certain amount of heat in the kiss, one that proved to her that her letter had been correct. He did not want this, did not wish to break it off as he had. He wanted her for his wife, and was having to deal with the fallout.
The kiss was brief, but it felt like it had said enough. It said goodbye. It said I’m sorry. It said I wish it was different. As he stood and left, without a glance back at her, she stood, too. Her feet were shaky, tears welling up more in her eyes than before. Suddenly, it was all too much again. The world had spun itself around and she couldn’t find solid ground. The same hand that held his face was brought to her lips, as if the wind would carry away the kiss before she could remember every aspect of it.
She spun away from the boat, moving through the crowd in the opposite direction of everyone else there. It felt as if everyone was too close, to intimately aware of her pain when the opposite was true. This was not her goodbye to say anymore, nor were these to be her people. Distancing herself from it all, Selene felt like an intruder, desperate to return to the manor that had turned into her safe haven in the past few days.
And even more prepared to return home, where her life would continue at a standstill, watching those around her find happiness that was always out of arm’s reach for her.
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She knew, in her core, that this was wrong. He no longer had claim to her, and she could not say that he was hers. Everything had ended, and yet nothing about this felt right in the first place. She should not be the one sneaking in her goodbye. She should not be preparing to leave shortly behind him to return home. Selene should have been nestled up with the rest of his family, offering her goodbyes and well-wishes as one of them.
Everything about this was wrong.
Her letter, now in his hands, should have been one of hopeful joy, not of love and regret. This kiss should have been an open one, not one that was stolen in a moment that should have never been. She wanted to feel guilty about it, but she couldn’t. Whatever she had done to anger the Gods had been done, and if she was to add to their fire, so be it.
There had been an initial reluctance, but it only lasted the briefest of moments before it was returned with just as much fervor as she was giving. She couldn’t help but feel as if he had needed this, too. And while she couldn’t read his mind, there was a certain amount of heat in the kiss, one that proved to her that her letter had been correct. He did not want this, did not wish to break it off as he had. He wanted her for his wife, and was having to deal with the fallout.
The kiss was brief, but it felt like it had said enough. It said goodbye. It said I’m sorry. It said I wish it was different. As he stood and left, without a glance back at her, she stood, too. Her feet were shaky, tears welling up more in her eyes than before. Suddenly, it was all too much again. The world had spun itself around and she couldn’t find solid ground. The same hand that held his face was brought to her lips, as if the wind would carry away the kiss before she could remember every aspect of it.
She spun away from the boat, moving through the crowd in the opposite direction of everyone else there. It felt as if everyone was too close, to intimately aware of her pain when the opposite was true. This was not her goodbye to say anymore, nor were these to be her people. Distancing herself from it all, Selene felt like an intruder, desperate to return to the manor that had turned into her safe haven in the past few days.
And even more prepared to return home, where her life would continue at a standstill, watching those around her find happiness that was always out of arm’s reach for her.
She knew, in her core, that this was wrong. He no longer had claim to her, and she could not say that he was hers. Everything had ended, and yet nothing about this felt right in the first place. She should not be the one sneaking in her goodbye. She should not be preparing to leave shortly behind him to return home. Selene should have been nestled up with the rest of his family, offering her goodbyes and well-wishes as one of them.
Everything about this was wrong.
Her letter, now in his hands, should have been one of hopeful joy, not of love and regret. This kiss should have been an open one, not one that was stolen in a moment that should have never been. She wanted to feel guilty about it, but she couldn’t. Whatever she had done to anger the Gods had been done, and if she was to add to their fire, so be it.
There had been an initial reluctance, but it only lasted the briefest of moments before it was returned with just as much fervor as she was giving. She couldn’t help but feel as if he had needed this, too. And while she couldn’t read his mind, there was a certain amount of heat in the kiss, one that proved to her that her letter had been correct. He did not want this, did not wish to break it off as he had. He wanted her for his wife, and was having to deal with the fallout.
The kiss was brief, but it felt like it had said enough. It said goodbye. It said I’m sorry. It said I wish it was different. As he stood and left, without a glance back at her, she stood, too. Her feet were shaky, tears welling up more in her eyes than before. Suddenly, it was all too much again. The world had spun itself around and she couldn’t find solid ground. The same hand that held his face was brought to her lips, as if the wind would carry away the kiss before she could remember every aspect of it.
She spun away from the boat, moving through the crowd in the opposite direction of everyone else there. It felt as if everyone was too close, to intimately aware of her pain when the opposite was true. This was not her goodbye to say anymore, nor were these to be her people. Distancing herself from it all, Selene felt like an intruder, desperate to return to the manor that had turned into her safe haven in the past few days.
And even more prepared to return home, where her life would continue at a standstill, watching those around her find happiness that was always out of arm’s reach for her.
As with nearly everything in the passing days, Thea faced it with the utmost hesitance. Nevertheless, like the pawn she apparently played now, she fell in line and made her own way to the docks.
The day had arrived as many do, with the sun rising and the city coming to life under its rays. It was different seeing it from the perspective of the Kotas manor, high in its perch of the Upper Levels. Accompanied by her new shadow, a Kotas guard that answered only to Queen Yanni and the soon-to-be-departing Crown Prince, Thea made her way among the people.
There were no glances her way, as no one knew, at least not yet. No formal announcement had been given and it was not likely to until Vangelis departed. How awkward and embarrassing. Add it to the pile of such awkward, embarrassing, and humiliating conversations that had happened in the past two days. A rotation of callers to her new residence, each demanding an explanation that she parroted off with varying levels of emotion and anxiety.
It was almost sad how it got easier each time.
At least, until Selene.
Brushing away the thoughts of it, Thea's new guard pressed his way through the crowd before her, granting her a space near the entry to the ship. Would this be the ship Mihail would board as well? She did not know, and that thought slashed at her spirit even further.
A neutral, emotionless mask had been firmly affixed to her features, her lips forming no shape other than that which had them softly pressed together, like petals of a rose. Her gown was of somber colors - deep blues with richly embroidered crimson accents along the edges and detailing around her bosom, but wish flashes of gold appointments, not silver, laced through her hair and draped along her shoulders and neck. It clashed with the tone of her skin, she was certain, but some consolations had to be made, she supposed.
Observant to a fault, Thea watched the royal family as they visited and departed one another, her eyes keen on Vangelis as he made his way through the crowd, near to where she stood. Fidgeting slightly with an unfamiliar gold band around her wrist, Thea gathered her thoughts, wondering what final things she should say to the father of the child she carried - her betrothed.
Should she say anything at all?
Thea's stomach churned, a side effect of the child she assumed along with a fresh anxiety in her gut.
What if he did not return? What would become of her?
Though it was known among the Kotas of the arrangement, too many speculations rushed through her mind and decided to plague her in that momnet. If the gods were willing, she would bear a child - possibly an heir - to the Colchian throne, raised by herself and Vangelis as the eventual King and Queen. Or...if he fell in battle....or if the child did not make it to term, as many did...
Inhaling an unsteady breath through her nose, staggered and stilted as it passed into her lungs, Thea glanced to the guard at her side - as it seemed, he was the only one who noticed. Swallowing hard, Thea closed her eyes a moment and allowed the edges and lines of her face to relax. Upon opening them, she saw Vangelis making his way through the crowd...joined by Selene.
Thea felt as if she had been punched in the gut, and she pressed her tongue to the top of her mouth and brought her hands together, wringing them tightly in front of her as if she had been hit - shielding her midsection without thinking of it. All of the lives that had been ruined by her incompetence, or by the will of the gods...
Emotions had been high and fraught in that last visit, and it would have been so much easier for Thea to have taken it as the end of a friendship, there was nothing she wanted MORE than for Selene to know how much she cared...how much she wished she could have changed it all. No one could make Vangelis happy, except for her, and Thea knew that the same was true in reverse. Why would the gods choose this? Why would they invoke this upon them?
What had the three of them done wrong?
There were many answers and reasonings behind it, but for now, she could not let them get to her. There was a slight commotion as both of their heads disappeared behind the crows, causing Thea's brows to lift slightly, settling as they stood again. In an instant, the golden wash of hair disappeared into the crowd and the Crown Prince approached.
Now.
"My Prince, Vangelis," Thea said, her voice clear but low as she dipped into the appropriate curtsey, taking the moment that her face was downturned to adjust it once more. If she were to fill this role, there was no time to start like the present. Raising her eyes to meet his, they spoke nothing but silent apologies, though her expression did not move from it's solemn stance.
"There is no doubt that you will fight well, and that with Ares' blessing, you will return as you have time and time again." The words tasted strange in her mouth. In the past, she had never gone through the manner of wishing for his return - it had never mattered before. Even stranger on her tongue were the words that followed, her eyes falling away to the boards at their feet.
"I will pray for your safe return," she said, her voice soft but steady, eyes raising back to his as she continued, her words laced with far deeper meaning than either of them could exchange in that moment, "And I shall hold fast to my duty to you and to the crown, come what may."
Come what may - whether it be his family, her family, or any wrath given by the gods at home or on the battlefield - she would hold now to this new promise between them. Yes, by some fault of hers or by the will of the gods, they were here now, despite her having made him a promise eight years ago that they would never be in this position. Yet, this new promise that grew within her was all that mattered now, not only for the two of them but for something much larger.
The oddity of the moment and the seriousness of the words that crossed her lips was almost laughable, and beyond what she ever imagined, the slightest tug at the corner of her mouth offered a ghost of a sad smile as she quietly added, "It is just another war. Do try to return."
Silently, the look in her eyes added, 'Do not leave me here to do this alone.'
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As with nearly everything in the passing days, Thea faced it with the utmost hesitance. Nevertheless, like the pawn she apparently played now, she fell in line and made her own way to the docks.
The day had arrived as many do, with the sun rising and the city coming to life under its rays. It was different seeing it from the perspective of the Kotas manor, high in its perch of the Upper Levels. Accompanied by her new shadow, a Kotas guard that answered only to Queen Yanni and the soon-to-be-departing Crown Prince, Thea made her way among the people.
There were no glances her way, as no one knew, at least not yet. No formal announcement had been given and it was not likely to until Vangelis departed. How awkward and embarrassing. Add it to the pile of such awkward, embarrassing, and humiliating conversations that had happened in the past two days. A rotation of callers to her new residence, each demanding an explanation that she parroted off with varying levels of emotion and anxiety.
It was almost sad how it got easier each time.
At least, until Selene.
Brushing away the thoughts of it, Thea's new guard pressed his way through the crowd before her, granting her a space near the entry to the ship. Would this be the ship Mihail would board as well? She did not know, and that thought slashed at her spirit even further.
A neutral, emotionless mask had been firmly affixed to her features, her lips forming no shape other than that which had them softly pressed together, like petals of a rose. Her gown was of somber colors - deep blues with richly embroidered crimson accents along the edges and detailing around her bosom, but wish flashes of gold appointments, not silver, laced through her hair and draped along her shoulders and neck. It clashed with the tone of her skin, she was certain, but some consolations had to be made, she supposed.
Observant to a fault, Thea watched the royal family as they visited and departed one another, her eyes keen on Vangelis as he made his way through the crowd, near to where she stood. Fidgeting slightly with an unfamiliar gold band around her wrist, Thea gathered her thoughts, wondering what final things she should say to the father of the child she carried - her betrothed.
Should she say anything at all?
Thea's stomach churned, a side effect of the child she assumed along with a fresh anxiety in her gut.
What if he did not return? What would become of her?
Though it was known among the Kotas of the arrangement, too many speculations rushed through her mind and decided to plague her in that momnet. If the gods were willing, she would bear a child - possibly an heir - to the Colchian throne, raised by herself and Vangelis as the eventual King and Queen. Or...if he fell in battle....or if the child did not make it to term, as many did...
Inhaling an unsteady breath through her nose, staggered and stilted as it passed into her lungs, Thea glanced to the guard at her side - as it seemed, he was the only one who noticed. Swallowing hard, Thea closed her eyes a moment and allowed the edges and lines of her face to relax. Upon opening them, she saw Vangelis making his way through the crowd...joined by Selene.
Thea felt as if she had been punched in the gut, and she pressed her tongue to the top of her mouth and brought her hands together, wringing them tightly in front of her as if she had been hit - shielding her midsection without thinking of it. All of the lives that had been ruined by her incompetence, or by the will of the gods...
Emotions had been high and fraught in that last visit, and it would have been so much easier for Thea to have taken it as the end of a friendship, there was nothing she wanted MORE than for Selene to know how much she cared...how much she wished she could have changed it all. No one could make Vangelis happy, except for her, and Thea knew that the same was true in reverse. Why would the gods choose this? Why would they invoke this upon them?
What had the three of them done wrong?
There were many answers and reasonings behind it, but for now, she could not let them get to her. There was a slight commotion as both of their heads disappeared behind the crows, causing Thea's brows to lift slightly, settling as they stood again. In an instant, the golden wash of hair disappeared into the crowd and the Crown Prince approached.
Now.
"My Prince, Vangelis," Thea said, her voice clear but low as she dipped into the appropriate curtsey, taking the moment that her face was downturned to adjust it once more. If she were to fill this role, there was no time to start like the present. Raising her eyes to meet his, they spoke nothing but silent apologies, though her expression did not move from it's solemn stance.
"There is no doubt that you will fight well, and that with Ares' blessing, you will return as you have time and time again." The words tasted strange in her mouth. In the past, she had never gone through the manner of wishing for his return - it had never mattered before. Even stranger on her tongue were the words that followed, her eyes falling away to the boards at their feet.
"I will pray for your safe return," she said, her voice soft but steady, eyes raising back to his as she continued, her words laced with far deeper meaning than either of them could exchange in that moment, "And I shall hold fast to my duty to you and to the crown, come what may."
Come what may - whether it be his family, her family, or any wrath given by the gods at home or on the battlefield - she would hold now to this new promise between them. Yes, by some fault of hers or by the will of the gods, they were here now, despite her having made him a promise eight years ago that they would never be in this position. Yet, this new promise that grew within her was all that mattered now, not only for the two of them but for something much larger.
The oddity of the moment and the seriousness of the words that crossed her lips was almost laughable, and beyond what she ever imagined, the slightest tug at the corner of her mouth offered a ghost of a sad smile as she quietly added, "It is just another war. Do try to return."
Silently, the look in her eyes added, 'Do not leave me here to do this alone.'
As with nearly everything in the passing days, Thea faced it with the utmost hesitance. Nevertheless, like the pawn she apparently played now, she fell in line and made her own way to the docks.
The day had arrived as many do, with the sun rising and the city coming to life under its rays. It was different seeing it from the perspective of the Kotas manor, high in its perch of the Upper Levels. Accompanied by her new shadow, a Kotas guard that answered only to Queen Yanni and the soon-to-be-departing Crown Prince, Thea made her way among the people.
There were no glances her way, as no one knew, at least not yet. No formal announcement had been given and it was not likely to until Vangelis departed. How awkward and embarrassing. Add it to the pile of such awkward, embarrassing, and humiliating conversations that had happened in the past two days. A rotation of callers to her new residence, each demanding an explanation that she parroted off with varying levels of emotion and anxiety.
It was almost sad how it got easier each time.
At least, until Selene.
Brushing away the thoughts of it, Thea's new guard pressed his way through the crowd before her, granting her a space near the entry to the ship. Would this be the ship Mihail would board as well? She did not know, and that thought slashed at her spirit even further.
A neutral, emotionless mask had been firmly affixed to her features, her lips forming no shape other than that which had them softly pressed together, like petals of a rose. Her gown was of somber colors - deep blues with richly embroidered crimson accents along the edges and detailing around her bosom, but wish flashes of gold appointments, not silver, laced through her hair and draped along her shoulders and neck. It clashed with the tone of her skin, she was certain, but some consolations had to be made, she supposed.
Observant to a fault, Thea watched the royal family as they visited and departed one another, her eyes keen on Vangelis as he made his way through the crowd, near to where she stood. Fidgeting slightly with an unfamiliar gold band around her wrist, Thea gathered her thoughts, wondering what final things she should say to the father of the child she carried - her betrothed.
Should she say anything at all?
Thea's stomach churned, a side effect of the child she assumed along with a fresh anxiety in her gut.
What if he did not return? What would become of her?
Though it was known among the Kotas of the arrangement, too many speculations rushed through her mind and decided to plague her in that momnet. If the gods were willing, she would bear a child - possibly an heir - to the Colchian throne, raised by herself and Vangelis as the eventual King and Queen. Or...if he fell in battle....or if the child did not make it to term, as many did...
Inhaling an unsteady breath through her nose, staggered and stilted as it passed into her lungs, Thea glanced to the guard at her side - as it seemed, he was the only one who noticed. Swallowing hard, Thea closed her eyes a moment and allowed the edges and lines of her face to relax. Upon opening them, she saw Vangelis making his way through the crowd...joined by Selene.
Thea felt as if she had been punched in the gut, and she pressed her tongue to the top of her mouth and brought her hands together, wringing them tightly in front of her as if she had been hit - shielding her midsection without thinking of it. All of the lives that had been ruined by her incompetence, or by the will of the gods...
Emotions had been high and fraught in that last visit, and it would have been so much easier for Thea to have taken it as the end of a friendship, there was nothing she wanted MORE than for Selene to know how much she cared...how much she wished she could have changed it all. No one could make Vangelis happy, except for her, and Thea knew that the same was true in reverse. Why would the gods choose this? Why would they invoke this upon them?
What had the three of them done wrong?
There were many answers and reasonings behind it, but for now, she could not let them get to her. There was a slight commotion as both of their heads disappeared behind the crows, causing Thea's brows to lift slightly, settling as they stood again. In an instant, the golden wash of hair disappeared into the crowd and the Crown Prince approached.
Now.
"My Prince, Vangelis," Thea said, her voice clear but low as she dipped into the appropriate curtsey, taking the moment that her face was downturned to adjust it once more. If she were to fill this role, there was no time to start like the present. Raising her eyes to meet his, they spoke nothing but silent apologies, though her expression did not move from it's solemn stance.
"There is no doubt that you will fight well, and that with Ares' blessing, you will return as you have time and time again." The words tasted strange in her mouth. In the past, she had never gone through the manner of wishing for his return - it had never mattered before. Even stranger on her tongue were the words that followed, her eyes falling away to the boards at their feet.
"I will pray for your safe return," she said, her voice soft but steady, eyes raising back to his as she continued, her words laced with far deeper meaning than either of them could exchange in that moment, "And I shall hold fast to my duty to you and to the crown, come what may."
Come what may - whether it be his family, her family, or any wrath given by the gods at home or on the battlefield - she would hold now to this new promise between them. Yes, by some fault of hers or by the will of the gods, they were here now, despite her having made him a promise eight years ago that they would never be in this position. Yet, this new promise that grew within her was all that mattered now, not only for the two of them but for something much larger.
The oddity of the moment and the seriousness of the words that crossed her lips was almost laughable, and beyond what she ever imagined, the slightest tug at the corner of her mouth offered a ghost of a sad smile as she quietly added, "It is just another war. Do try to return."
Silently, the look in her eyes added, 'Do not leave me here to do this alone.'