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It was hard in times of great turmoil to pray. Days slipped by without recollection and the sun rose and set more times than you thought possible in time that it felt had passed. Vangelis found himself buried in paperwork and the administrative duties of a General readying his armies for war. He had insisted on doing it all himself, as this was his campaign and his father had only just returned to his family - from apparent death - ready to sail out again. He did not wish to diminish his father's time with those that he loved.
When he wasn't busy with his duties as a General, Vangelis was seeing to his responsibilities as a baron. He had met with his steward who had travelled up from Chaossis and installed several economic changes, insisted on the rebuilding of a wielding smithery that had burnt to the ground a month past and reorganised the focus of the small mining enterprise that existed in the peaks of the province. From there, there was much to be done in ensuring that the plans were able to bloom and grow fruit whilst he was away at sea, without need for his approval or input. He trusted his steward to make the appropriate choices as he always had these many years, but the man could not bypass red tape where it was law.
And whilst a barony might appear a small consideration for a man that was leading his kingdom to war, it was significant to Vangelis on a personal level. It would not be long, after all, before Dion was old enough to take on the baroncy of a province. And Chaossis was the family tradition. He would claim it as his uncle had before him. Vangelis had been determined to give the title over to the boy as soon as he completed his time in the mines, once Vangelis had returned from the battlefield.
When distractions of barony and military requirements were not plaguing him, Vangelis was left with his princely tasks. Be they of personal or privileged nature, all required his due diligence and it had been a manic few days as all had changed. Selene had left the Kotas manor and Thea had been moved into it. He had spent the first few hours of her stay making it clear to all staff within the estate that if she was to request something it was to be given to her without question. So long as that desire involved anything to be safely consumed or saw to her comfort or distraction. She was to be given no herbs or poultices, or dangerous implements or weapons. Instead, she was to have a guard posted outside of her door at all times. The middle-aged man that Vangelis had selected - Lysemites - was two decades old in the experience of warfare and loyal to a fault. Vangelis had made sure that the man obeyed only the orders Vangelis left behind him or that of his mother Queen Yanni. No-one else was to be obeyed. The man was to follow Thea wherever she went outside of the family home and guard her door when she rested. He was permitted time for his own slumber only when he could be assured of a loyal replacement - whose efforts would be on his own head.
Whilst he knew that such restrictions would only serve to infuriate Thea, Vangelis had offered the woman no choice in the matter. As far as he was concerned, she now held no decisions in regards to her own fate. For such a fate was that of his child's - his heir's. She would have to settle for playing second fiddle to the wants and needs of the unborn prince or princess of Colchis.
As for Selene...
Vangelis had not spoken to her since that morning just two days ago when he had told her of his determination to marry Thea. It had been unpleasant for the both of them, left her with wet eyes and he with a stinging cheek, but he had seen it as as clean a break as it was possible to create. For he could offer her nothing more now that his own future was set. Whether it was what he wanted or not.
Better to leave her in peace.
With so many considerations to be had, swirling in his mind and sponging his time, Vangelis had had few hours for the basic human necessities... Sleep, food and praying had all become something of a cursory and fleeting moment to him.
Yet now, on the eve of his sailing to war, Vangelis would not permit his ritual to fall away. Every time he sailed for battle from the shores of his home, Vangelis prayed in the Hall of the Gods. His father had taught him always that regardless of the effort and strength of the fighters involved, it was down to the Gods to decide who was to bear victory. And even if they were going up against the Egyptians - heathens outside of the polygrecian faith... it did not bode well to not honour the divine before each sailing to war.
Having arrived at the Temple of Ares first with a dozen goats and six purebred young hounds, it was an effort of organisation to see the animals taken by the priests ready for sacrifice to the God of War. As several of his personal guard helped the holy men to guide the creators to a back chamber and pen, Vangelis turned to the others under his command and issued a silent order of obedience with a simple all. All of them dropped to their knees before the large and imposing statue of the Son of Zeus.
Turning to face the same way, Vangelis surrendered himself to the ground, his head bent. With an upturned palm, and one of his slim and sharp daggers in hand, he made a slice to his skin over the vulnerable skin of his inner forearm. The slim and shining slivers of scar tissue were marked reminders of just how many times he had performed such a ritual before the statue of Ares.
As crimson ran over his arm and dripped to the floor before the statue, seeping into the cracks of granite beneath his feet, Vangelis heard the unsheathing of a half dozen blades as his men behind him repeated the gesture of worship and respect.
With eyes closed, Vangelis murmured beneath his breath, praying for strength, power and courage in both himself and his men.
He did not pray for victory.
Instead, he prayed that his troops would be given the abilities to honour Ares, to please him and to offer their fealty in a way that assured them his benevolence and his assurance of victory. If they fought well enough, he trusted that his patron God would see them to triumph. If they did not, then they deserved all of the loss and humiliation that Ares bestowed.
After remaining quiet, trying to clear his mind of all that he could and focusing solely on the war at hand, praying for several minutes, Vangelis came back to his feet, placed a bloody hand to his heart, and then turned to leave Ares' part of the temple with what he hoped were good fortunes for the future.
Before leaving the Hall of the Gods, however, he also made a journey to Athenia's section of the cavernous temples.
In this area, the Goddess of Wisdom and War stood proud. A smaller statue perhaps than that of her divine brother, but with a larger room to encase it, the torches of her being lit the chamber with a warm and yellow glow of flickering life. From her proud, warrioress frame, hung streams of golden silk and lace. The multi-layered chiton - ten times the size of anything a mortal might wear - was fastened around her neck and shoulders, kept in place by fine and burnished shoulder armour of gold and bronze, before its ends were pulled to become anchored against the save walls. Like elegant sails or a dragon's wings, the silks made the smaller statue seem larger. An open sea of gold with the goddess, a marble island at its core, her spear in hand and helmet upon her head.
To this statue, Vangelis offered no blood sacrifice and no animals. Instead, he left his men outside hoping that the Goddess might appreciate that he wished not to win his war by the power of numbers, and approached the podium upon which Athena stood.
Bowing so low that his forehead might have reached the edge of the plinth were he to stand forward but a single step, Vangelis prayed here too. Whilst he wished for courage and strength in his men from Ares, to Athenia he begged for wisdom and strategy for himself. He prayed that he would hold the tactical skill and the talent of mind to lead his men in a way that would limit the number of souls that found their way to Hades - for he would have his deathtoll assuredly enough.
Once he had prayed, Vangelis offered to Athenia one of his daggers. Unsheathing it from is waist and placing it upon the plinth at her feet, he spoke words that declared his offering as a promise. To not use the might of iron where wisdom would serve better.
He then raised his hand, kissed his House signet ring to bind the promise and then the tips of his own fingers, which he placed upon the stone toes of the statue.
With a final bow and honouring of the Goddess, Vangelis left the Hall of the Gods, feeling emboldened by his duty fulfilled and feeling the crashing weight of all that mortal life had to offer him the second he stepped foot into the sunlight once more...
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Mar 28, 2020 12:40:10 GMT
Posted In Humble Mortal on Mar 28, 2020 12:40:10 GMT
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It was hard in times of great turmoil to pray. Days slipped by without recollection and the sun rose and set more times than you thought possible in time that it felt had passed. Vangelis found himself buried in paperwork and the administrative duties of a General readying his armies for war. He had insisted on doing it all himself, as this was his campaign and his father had only just returned to his family - from apparent death - ready to sail out again. He did not wish to diminish his father's time with those that he loved.
When he wasn't busy with his duties as a General, Vangelis was seeing to his responsibilities as a baron. He had met with his steward who had travelled up from Chaossis and installed several economic changes, insisted on the rebuilding of a wielding smithery that had burnt to the ground a month past and reorganised the focus of the small mining enterprise that existed in the peaks of the province. From there, there was much to be done in ensuring that the plans were able to bloom and grow fruit whilst he was away at sea, without need for his approval or input. He trusted his steward to make the appropriate choices as he always had these many years, but the man could not bypass red tape where it was law.
And whilst a barony might appear a small consideration for a man that was leading his kingdom to war, it was significant to Vangelis on a personal level. It would not be long, after all, before Dion was old enough to take on the baroncy of a province. And Chaossis was the family tradition. He would claim it as his uncle had before him. Vangelis had been determined to give the title over to the boy as soon as he completed his time in the mines, once Vangelis had returned from the battlefield.
When distractions of barony and military requirements were not plaguing him, Vangelis was left with his princely tasks. Be they of personal or privileged nature, all required his due diligence and it had been a manic few days as all had changed. Selene had left the Kotas manor and Thea had been moved into it. He had spent the first few hours of her stay making it clear to all staff within the estate that if she was to request something it was to be given to her without question. So long as that desire involved anything to be safely consumed or saw to her comfort or distraction. She was to be given no herbs or poultices, or dangerous implements or weapons. Instead, she was to have a guard posted outside of her door at all times. The middle-aged man that Vangelis had selected - Lysemites - was two decades old in the experience of warfare and loyal to a fault. Vangelis had made sure that the man obeyed only the orders Vangelis left behind him or that of his mother Queen Yanni. No-one else was to be obeyed. The man was to follow Thea wherever she went outside of the family home and guard her door when she rested. He was permitted time for his own slumber only when he could be assured of a loyal replacement - whose efforts would be on his own head.
Whilst he knew that such restrictions would only serve to infuriate Thea, Vangelis had offered the woman no choice in the matter. As far as he was concerned, she now held no decisions in regards to her own fate. For such a fate was that of his child's - his heir's. She would have to settle for playing second fiddle to the wants and needs of the unborn prince or princess of Colchis.
As for Selene...
Vangelis had not spoken to her since that morning just two days ago when he had told her of his determination to marry Thea. It had been unpleasant for the both of them, left her with wet eyes and he with a stinging cheek, but he had seen it as as clean a break as it was possible to create. For he could offer her nothing more now that his own future was set. Whether it was what he wanted or not.
Better to leave her in peace.
With so many considerations to be had, swirling in his mind and sponging his time, Vangelis had had few hours for the basic human necessities... Sleep, food and praying had all become something of a cursory and fleeting moment to him.
Yet now, on the eve of his sailing to war, Vangelis would not permit his ritual to fall away. Every time he sailed for battle from the shores of his home, Vangelis prayed in the Hall of the Gods. His father had taught him always that regardless of the effort and strength of the fighters involved, it was down to the Gods to decide who was to bear victory. And even if they were going up against the Egyptians - heathens outside of the polygrecian faith... it did not bode well to not honour the divine before each sailing to war.
Having arrived at the Temple of Ares first with a dozen goats and six purebred young hounds, it was an effort of organisation to see the animals taken by the priests ready for sacrifice to the God of War. As several of his personal guard helped the holy men to guide the creators to a back chamber and pen, Vangelis turned to the others under his command and issued a silent order of obedience with a simple all. All of them dropped to their knees before the large and imposing statue of the Son of Zeus.
Turning to face the same way, Vangelis surrendered himself to the ground, his head bent. With an upturned palm, and one of his slim and sharp daggers in hand, he made a slice to his skin over the vulnerable skin of his inner forearm. The slim and shining slivers of scar tissue were marked reminders of just how many times he had performed such a ritual before the statue of Ares.
As crimson ran over his arm and dripped to the floor before the statue, seeping into the cracks of granite beneath his feet, Vangelis heard the unsheathing of a half dozen blades as his men behind him repeated the gesture of worship and respect.
With eyes closed, Vangelis murmured beneath his breath, praying for strength, power and courage in both himself and his men.
He did not pray for victory.
Instead, he prayed that his troops would be given the abilities to honour Ares, to please him and to offer their fealty in a way that assured them his benevolence and his assurance of victory. If they fought well enough, he trusted that his patron God would see them to triumph. If they did not, then they deserved all of the loss and humiliation that Ares bestowed.
After remaining quiet, trying to clear his mind of all that he could and focusing solely on the war at hand, praying for several minutes, Vangelis came back to his feet, placed a bloody hand to his heart, and then turned to leave Ares' part of the temple with what he hoped were good fortunes for the future.
Before leaving the Hall of the Gods, however, he also made a journey to Athenia's section of the cavernous temples.
In this area, the Goddess of Wisdom and War stood proud. A smaller statue perhaps than that of her divine brother, but with a larger room to encase it, the torches of her being lit the chamber with a warm and yellow glow of flickering life. From her proud, warrioress frame, hung streams of golden silk and lace. The multi-layered chiton - ten times the size of anything a mortal might wear - was fastened around her neck and shoulders, kept in place by fine and burnished shoulder armour of gold and bronze, before its ends were pulled to become anchored against the save walls. Like elegant sails or a dragon's wings, the silks made the smaller statue seem larger. An open sea of gold with the goddess, a marble island at its core, her spear in hand and helmet upon her head.
To this statue, Vangelis offered no blood sacrifice and no animals. Instead, he left his men outside hoping that the Goddess might appreciate that he wished not to win his war by the power of numbers, and approached the podium upon which Athena stood.
Bowing so low that his forehead might have reached the edge of the plinth were he to stand forward but a single step, Vangelis prayed here too. Whilst he wished for courage and strength in his men from Ares, to Athenia he begged for wisdom and strategy for himself. He prayed that he would hold the tactical skill and the talent of mind to lead his men in a way that would limit the number of souls that found their way to Hades - for he would have his deathtoll assuredly enough.
Once he had prayed, Vangelis offered to Athenia one of his daggers. Unsheathing it from is waist and placing it upon the plinth at her feet, he spoke words that declared his offering as a promise. To not use the might of iron where wisdom would serve better.
He then raised his hand, kissed his House signet ring to bind the promise and then the tips of his own fingers, which he placed upon the stone toes of the statue.
With a final bow and honouring of the Goddess, Vangelis left the Hall of the Gods, feeling emboldened by his duty fulfilled and feeling the crashing weight of all that mortal life had to offer him the second he stepped foot into the sunlight once more...
It was hard in times of great turmoil to pray. Days slipped by without recollection and the sun rose and set more times than you thought possible in time that it felt had passed. Vangelis found himself buried in paperwork and the administrative duties of a General readying his armies for war. He had insisted on doing it all himself, as this was his campaign and his father had only just returned to his family - from apparent death - ready to sail out again. He did not wish to diminish his father's time with those that he loved.
When he wasn't busy with his duties as a General, Vangelis was seeing to his responsibilities as a baron. He had met with his steward who had travelled up from Chaossis and installed several economic changes, insisted on the rebuilding of a wielding smithery that had burnt to the ground a month past and reorganised the focus of the small mining enterprise that existed in the peaks of the province. From there, there was much to be done in ensuring that the plans were able to bloom and grow fruit whilst he was away at sea, without need for his approval or input. He trusted his steward to make the appropriate choices as he always had these many years, but the man could not bypass red tape where it was law.
And whilst a barony might appear a small consideration for a man that was leading his kingdom to war, it was significant to Vangelis on a personal level. It would not be long, after all, before Dion was old enough to take on the baroncy of a province. And Chaossis was the family tradition. He would claim it as his uncle had before him. Vangelis had been determined to give the title over to the boy as soon as he completed his time in the mines, once Vangelis had returned from the battlefield.
When distractions of barony and military requirements were not plaguing him, Vangelis was left with his princely tasks. Be they of personal or privileged nature, all required his due diligence and it had been a manic few days as all had changed. Selene had left the Kotas manor and Thea had been moved into it. He had spent the first few hours of her stay making it clear to all staff within the estate that if she was to request something it was to be given to her without question. So long as that desire involved anything to be safely consumed or saw to her comfort or distraction. She was to be given no herbs or poultices, or dangerous implements or weapons. Instead, she was to have a guard posted outside of her door at all times. The middle-aged man that Vangelis had selected - Lysemites - was two decades old in the experience of warfare and loyal to a fault. Vangelis had made sure that the man obeyed only the orders Vangelis left behind him or that of his mother Queen Yanni. No-one else was to be obeyed. The man was to follow Thea wherever she went outside of the family home and guard her door when she rested. He was permitted time for his own slumber only when he could be assured of a loyal replacement - whose efforts would be on his own head.
Whilst he knew that such restrictions would only serve to infuriate Thea, Vangelis had offered the woman no choice in the matter. As far as he was concerned, she now held no decisions in regards to her own fate. For such a fate was that of his child's - his heir's. She would have to settle for playing second fiddle to the wants and needs of the unborn prince or princess of Colchis.
As for Selene...
Vangelis had not spoken to her since that morning just two days ago when he had told her of his determination to marry Thea. It had been unpleasant for the both of them, left her with wet eyes and he with a stinging cheek, but he had seen it as as clean a break as it was possible to create. For he could offer her nothing more now that his own future was set. Whether it was what he wanted or not.
Better to leave her in peace.
With so many considerations to be had, swirling in his mind and sponging his time, Vangelis had had few hours for the basic human necessities... Sleep, food and praying had all become something of a cursory and fleeting moment to him.
Yet now, on the eve of his sailing to war, Vangelis would not permit his ritual to fall away. Every time he sailed for battle from the shores of his home, Vangelis prayed in the Hall of the Gods. His father had taught him always that regardless of the effort and strength of the fighters involved, it was down to the Gods to decide who was to bear victory. And even if they were going up against the Egyptians - heathens outside of the polygrecian faith... it did not bode well to not honour the divine before each sailing to war.
Having arrived at the Temple of Ares first with a dozen goats and six purebred young hounds, it was an effort of organisation to see the animals taken by the priests ready for sacrifice to the God of War. As several of his personal guard helped the holy men to guide the creators to a back chamber and pen, Vangelis turned to the others under his command and issued a silent order of obedience with a simple all. All of them dropped to their knees before the large and imposing statue of the Son of Zeus.
Turning to face the same way, Vangelis surrendered himself to the ground, his head bent. With an upturned palm, and one of his slim and sharp daggers in hand, he made a slice to his skin over the vulnerable skin of his inner forearm. The slim and shining slivers of scar tissue were marked reminders of just how many times he had performed such a ritual before the statue of Ares.
As crimson ran over his arm and dripped to the floor before the statue, seeping into the cracks of granite beneath his feet, Vangelis heard the unsheathing of a half dozen blades as his men behind him repeated the gesture of worship and respect.
With eyes closed, Vangelis murmured beneath his breath, praying for strength, power and courage in both himself and his men.
He did not pray for victory.
Instead, he prayed that his troops would be given the abilities to honour Ares, to please him and to offer their fealty in a way that assured them his benevolence and his assurance of victory. If they fought well enough, he trusted that his patron God would see them to triumph. If they did not, then they deserved all of the loss and humiliation that Ares bestowed.
After remaining quiet, trying to clear his mind of all that he could and focusing solely on the war at hand, praying for several minutes, Vangelis came back to his feet, placed a bloody hand to his heart, and then turned to leave Ares' part of the temple with what he hoped were good fortunes for the future.
Before leaving the Hall of the Gods, however, he also made a journey to Athenia's section of the cavernous temples.
In this area, the Goddess of Wisdom and War stood proud. A smaller statue perhaps than that of her divine brother, but with a larger room to encase it, the torches of her being lit the chamber with a warm and yellow glow of flickering life. From her proud, warrioress frame, hung streams of golden silk and lace. The multi-layered chiton - ten times the size of anything a mortal might wear - was fastened around her neck and shoulders, kept in place by fine and burnished shoulder armour of gold and bronze, before its ends were pulled to become anchored against the save walls. Like elegant sails or a dragon's wings, the silks made the smaller statue seem larger. An open sea of gold with the goddess, a marble island at its core, her spear in hand and helmet upon her head.
To this statue, Vangelis offered no blood sacrifice and no animals. Instead, he left his men outside hoping that the Goddess might appreciate that he wished not to win his war by the power of numbers, and approached the podium upon which Athena stood.
Bowing so low that his forehead might have reached the edge of the plinth were he to stand forward but a single step, Vangelis prayed here too. Whilst he wished for courage and strength in his men from Ares, to Athenia he begged for wisdom and strategy for himself. He prayed that he would hold the tactical skill and the talent of mind to lead his men in a way that would limit the number of souls that found their way to Hades - for he would have his deathtoll assuredly enough.
Once he had prayed, Vangelis offered to Athenia one of his daggers. Unsheathing it from is waist and placing it upon the plinth at her feet, he spoke words that declared his offering as a promise. To not use the might of iron where wisdom would serve better.
He then raised his hand, kissed his House signet ring to bind the promise and then the tips of his own fingers, which he placed upon the stone toes of the statue.
With a final bow and honouring of the Goddess, Vangelis left the Hall of the Gods, feeling emboldened by his duty fulfilled and feeling the crashing weight of all that mortal life had to offer him the second he stepped foot into the sunlight once more...
War. Battle. For the people of Colchis there was no higher honor. The men were soldiers, bred to fight and fight to their dying breath. Many women will feel the same heartbreak that Tythra felt decades prior. They will be left a widow, raising children who would never know a father. Brothers would be lost, nephews, lovers all to fight in the name of Greece.
But where was honor in death? A corpse was no offering to Ares but an offering to Hades. While Tythra, never a woman to be emotional no matter the subject, still felt for the people of Colchis and Taengea. While her duty remained here, within the Senate and assisting the Kotas so that political infrastructure remained intact and the men still had a kingdom to return to, her spirit would be off in the battlefield hoping for the safe return of their soldiers.
And thus the Princess made a decision to visit the Temple of Ares. Here she would offer her prayer for the safe return of the Greek soldiers. Let their people stand tall and proud, with the women of children cheering their return. A feast should be held in celebration rather than in mourning. Victory, safety, prosperity for many years to come.
And then she would make an offering to Athenia. Should her wisdom guide the men in battle, and with Ares protect their men. Off courage and strength to fight off the Egyptians who worshiped false gods. Punish them for their crimes, and see to it that Greece is victorious as is their right. Wisdom and tactics in battle from Athena, and the strength and might from Ares, would surely be needed in these troubled times.
That was, in fact, her intention as she moved towards the temple. Instead what she saw was her nephew, leaving looking emboldened. He must have had similar thoughts to Tythra, praying for the men that were going off to war. Tythra felt her heart squeeze, thinking of her own family that were about to see a bloody battle. Her brother and three nephews would be on a boat, an omen she did not quite like judging by the last time a boat returned seemingly bearing the body of the King. She would not like to suffer the pain of losing a family member, even if it was proven false, again.
“Vangelis, my dearest nephew.” Tythra greeted, though she did not bear the courtly smile that was typically playing on her face. It was grim and solemn, matching the times Colchis was facing. “You are looking strong and ready.” As was typical. Tythra never knew Vangelis to show fear or apprehension. “Tell me, did the Gods bless you and the armies, or would you care to join me in another prayer?"
Her eyes swept to the men behind her nephew, and the crimson running down his arm. A blood sacrifice then, one that Ares would surely look upon it in pride. Perhaps she too would do the same, only to ensure the safety of their people. “Though I ask your assistance, for getting on my knees is not as easy as it once was.”
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Jun 16, 2020 23:00:02 GMT
Posted In Humble Mortal on Jun 16, 2020 23:00:02 GMT
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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War. Battle. For the people of Colchis there was no higher honor. The men were soldiers, bred to fight and fight to their dying breath. Many women will feel the same heartbreak that Tythra felt decades prior. They will be left a widow, raising children who would never know a father. Brothers would be lost, nephews, lovers all to fight in the name of Greece.
But where was honor in death? A corpse was no offering to Ares but an offering to Hades. While Tythra, never a woman to be emotional no matter the subject, still felt for the people of Colchis and Taengea. While her duty remained here, within the Senate and assisting the Kotas so that political infrastructure remained intact and the men still had a kingdom to return to, her spirit would be off in the battlefield hoping for the safe return of their soldiers.
And thus the Princess made a decision to visit the Temple of Ares. Here she would offer her prayer for the safe return of the Greek soldiers. Let their people stand tall and proud, with the women of children cheering their return. A feast should be held in celebration rather than in mourning. Victory, safety, prosperity for many years to come.
And then she would make an offering to Athenia. Should her wisdom guide the men in battle, and with Ares protect their men. Off courage and strength to fight off the Egyptians who worshiped false gods. Punish them for their crimes, and see to it that Greece is victorious as is their right. Wisdom and tactics in battle from Athena, and the strength and might from Ares, would surely be needed in these troubled times.
That was, in fact, her intention as she moved towards the temple. Instead what she saw was her nephew, leaving looking emboldened. He must have had similar thoughts to Tythra, praying for the men that were going off to war. Tythra felt her heart squeeze, thinking of her own family that were about to see a bloody battle. Her brother and three nephews would be on a boat, an omen she did not quite like judging by the last time a boat returned seemingly bearing the body of the King. She would not like to suffer the pain of losing a family member, even if it was proven false, again.
“Vangelis, my dearest nephew.” Tythra greeted, though she did not bear the courtly smile that was typically playing on her face. It was grim and solemn, matching the times Colchis was facing. “You are looking strong and ready.” As was typical. Tythra never knew Vangelis to show fear or apprehension. “Tell me, did the Gods bless you and the armies, or would you care to join me in another prayer?"
Her eyes swept to the men behind her nephew, and the crimson running down his arm. A blood sacrifice then, one that Ares would surely look upon it in pride. Perhaps she too would do the same, only to ensure the safety of their people. “Though I ask your assistance, for getting on my knees is not as easy as it once was.”
War. Battle. For the people of Colchis there was no higher honor. The men were soldiers, bred to fight and fight to their dying breath. Many women will feel the same heartbreak that Tythra felt decades prior. They will be left a widow, raising children who would never know a father. Brothers would be lost, nephews, lovers all to fight in the name of Greece.
But where was honor in death? A corpse was no offering to Ares but an offering to Hades. While Tythra, never a woman to be emotional no matter the subject, still felt for the people of Colchis and Taengea. While her duty remained here, within the Senate and assisting the Kotas so that political infrastructure remained intact and the men still had a kingdom to return to, her spirit would be off in the battlefield hoping for the safe return of their soldiers.
And thus the Princess made a decision to visit the Temple of Ares. Here she would offer her prayer for the safe return of the Greek soldiers. Let their people stand tall and proud, with the women of children cheering their return. A feast should be held in celebration rather than in mourning. Victory, safety, prosperity for many years to come.
And then she would make an offering to Athenia. Should her wisdom guide the men in battle, and with Ares protect their men. Off courage and strength to fight off the Egyptians who worshiped false gods. Punish them for their crimes, and see to it that Greece is victorious as is their right. Wisdom and tactics in battle from Athena, and the strength and might from Ares, would surely be needed in these troubled times.
That was, in fact, her intention as she moved towards the temple. Instead what she saw was her nephew, leaving looking emboldened. He must have had similar thoughts to Tythra, praying for the men that were going off to war. Tythra felt her heart squeeze, thinking of her own family that were about to see a bloody battle. Her brother and three nephews would be on a boat, an omen she did not quite like judging by the last time a boat returned seemingly bearing the body of the King. She would not like to suffer the pain of losing a family member, even if it was proven false, again.
“Vangelis, my dearest nephew.” Tythra greeted, though she did not bear the courtly smile that was typically playing on her face. It was grim and solemn, matching the times Colchis was facing. “You are looking strong and ready.” As was typical. Tythra never knew Vangelis to show fear or apprehension. “Tell me, did the Gods bless you and the armies, or would you care to join me in another prayer?"
Her eyes swept to the men behind her nephew, and the crimson running down his arm. A blood sacrifice then, one that Ares would surely look upon it in pride. Perhaps she too would do the same, only to ensure the safety of their people. “Though I ask your assistance, for getting on my knees is not as easy as it once was.”
Vangelis did not smile at the approach of his aunt. His expression remained stony and lacking in any form of emotion or affection. But this was not a comment upon her, nor a degrading of their relationship. Vangelis was well known for never letting his thoughts and feelings bleed into his features. They were all kept behind locked doors in the back of his mind or the bottom of his belly, giving himself the name of Stone Prince. His family were fully aware of such a habit but were also privy to information that others were not. That Vangelis had once been a bright and engaging child, protector of his siblings and honour-bound heir to his father. He had never been what was considered enthusiastic or chatty - he was not that kind of person. But he had certainly held more emotions on his sleeve when young. And his family would know that boy to still be within the man.
"Aunt." He offered, his tone one of respect - which showed his affection if his features did not. When she greeted him, asking how he was and that he looked powerful in his leave-taking of the temple, he didn't offer a response. To nod or accept her statement would be arrogance in his mind and the Gods did not like ego. To deny it would seem like a lack of confidence in his men and their efforts and chances. He was left with only the dipping of his head - an acceptance of her compliment, if not an outright agreement with her words.
When she asked as to the Gods and their blessings upon him, Vangelis glanced towards the temple entryway and then down to the hand that he noticed her spot. He lifted his arm and brushed away the rivulets of blood that ran down beyond his wrist and over the back of his hand. He succeeded in only smearing it.
"I'll not risk showing myself to be worried for the war ahead by praying more than once." He stated simply, his gaze meeting his aunts before it dipped in a respectful nod. Whilst they both held royal Kotas blood, technically he was of higher rank as heir to the throne - as future king. But he always stood in deference to Tythra, accepting her experience and wisdom as it was owed. "But I'll escort you all the same as an observer, Aunt." And with that, he turned on his heel to prove his point and ascend the steps outside the temple doorways, walking alongside her.
It was only when his aunt made the comment upon not being able to get to her knees, that Vangelis' expression melted enough to offer a half smile of amusement.
"You do yourself a disservice in order to flatter my strength, Princess Tythra." He offered, the title being used as a comment of amusement. "Time has not yet aged you or your spirit as yet."
He flashed a look in her direction, as they reached the top of the stairs and turned their attention to the priests that welcomed them inside...
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Jun 19, 2020 16:49:58 GMT
Posted In Humble Mortal on Jun 19, 2020 16:49:58 GMT
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Vangelis did not smile at the approach of his aunt. His expression remained stony and lacking in any form of emotion or affection. But this was not a comment upon her, nor a degrading of their relationship. Vangelis was well known for never letting his thoughts and feelings bleed into his features. They were all kept behind locked doors in the back of his mind or the bottom of his belly, giving himself the name of Stone Prince. His family were fully aware of such a habit but were also privy to information that others were not. That Vangelis had once been a bright and engaging child, protector of his siblings and honour-bound heir to his father. He had never been what was considered enthusiastic or chatty - he was not that kind of person. But he had certainly held more emotions on his sleeve when young. And his family would know that boy to still be within the man.
"Aunt." He offered, his tone one of respect - which showed his affection if his features did not. When she greeted him, asking how he was and that he looked powerful in his leave-taking of the temple, he didn't offer a response. To nod or accept her statement would be arrogance in his mind and the Gods did not like ego. To deny it would seem like a lack of confidence in his men and their efforts and chances. He was left with only the dipping of his head - an acceptance of her compliment, if not an outright agreement with her words.
When she asked as to the Gods and their blessings upon him, Vangelis glanced towards the temple entryway and then down to the hand that he noticed her spot. He lifted his arm and brushed away the rivulets of blood that ran down beyond his wrist and over the back of his hand. He succeeded in only smearing it.
"I'll not risk showing myself to be worried for the war ahead by praying more than once." He stated simply, his gaze meeting his aunts before it dipped in a respectful nod. Whilst they both held royal Kotas blood, technically he was of higher rank as heir to the throne - as future king. But he always stood in deference to Tythra, accepting her experience and wisdom as it was owed. "But I'll escort you all the same as an observer, Aunt." And with that, he turned on his heel to prove his point and ascend the steps outside the temple doorways, walking alongside her.
It was only when his aunt made the comment upon not being able to get to her knees, that Vangelis' expression melted enough to offer a half smile of amusement.
"You do yourself a disservice in order to flatter my strength, Princess Tythra." He offered, the title being used as a comment of amusement. "Time has not yet aged you or your spirit as yet."
He flashed a look in her direction, as they reached the top of the stairs and turned their attention to the priests that welcomed them inside...
Vangelis did not smile at the approach of his aunt. His expression remained stony and lacking in any form of emotion or affection. But this was not a comment upon her, nor a degrading of their relationship. Vangelis was well known for never letting his thoughts and feelings bleed into his features. They were all kept behind locked doors in the back of his mind or the bottom of his belly, giving himself the name of Stone Prince. His family were fully aware of such a habit but were also privy to information that others were not. That Vangelis had once been a bright and engaging child, protector of his siblings and honour-bound heir to his father. He had never been what was considered enthusiastic or chatty - he was not that kind of person. But he had certainly held more emotions on his sleeve when young. And his family would know that boy to still be within the man.
"Aunt." He offered, his tone one of respect - which showed his affection if his features did not. When she greeted him, asking how he was and that he looked powerful in his leave-taking of the temple, he didn't offer a response. To nod or accept her statement would be arrogance in his mind and the Gods did not like ego. To deny it would seem like a lack of confidence in his men and their efforts and chances. He was left with only the dipping of his head - an acceptance of her compliment, if not an outright agreement with her words.
When she asked as to the Gods and their blessings upon him, Vangelis glanced towards the temple entryway and then down to the hand that he noticed her spot. He lifted his arm and brushed away the rivulets of blood that ran down beyond his wrist and over the back of his hand. He succeeded in only smearing it.
"I'll not risk showing myself to be worried for the war ahead by praying more than once." He stated simply, his gaze meeting his aunts before it dipped in a respectful nod. Whilst they both held royal Kotas blood, technically he was of higher rank as heir to the throne - as future king. But he always stood in deference to Tythra, accepting her experience and wisdom as it was owed. "But I'll escort you all the same as an observer, Aunt." And with that, he turned on his heel to prove his point and ascend the steps outside the temple doorways, walking alongside her.
It was only when his aunt made the comment upon not being able to get to her knees, that Vangelis' expression melted enough to offer a half smile of amusement.
"You do yourself a disservice in order to flatter my strength, Princess Tythra." He offered, the title being used as a comment of amusement. "Time has not yet aged you or your spirit as yet."
He flashed a look in her direction, as they reached the top of the stairs and turned their attention to the priests that welcomed them inside...
While Vangelis was certainly not one for words, quiet and stoic, Tythra could not blame him at this moment. The air around Colchis as of late was heavy, as wives and children prepared for the men to go, worry aching in their souls. The boats that will be leaving Colchis will return emptier, and while there may be a celebration of victory, mourning would soon follow. This was not the time for words. This was the time for empathy and understanding. This was the time to instill bravery in the warriors that were about to embark and love for the women who were waiting for a man that very well may never return. Words alone would not suffice, especially those words that often were tinged with emptiness.
With a soft nod, Tythra made her way up the steps, though she did give him a wry smile of amusement at his words. Do be careful not to repeat that in front of my daughters, lest you wish to panic them with thoughts of my immortality. They do fear the idea that I will always be watching over them, with a dragon’s eye and a mouth full of fire.”
Tythra nodded her head at the priests, entering the temple where the large statue of Ares, fresh blood upon his feet, stood. Everything felt still, silent. The Princess walked forward, eyes never leaving the statue until she finally got to her knees, bowing her head in a single prayer.
To ask for victory was foolish, for all of Colchis will be praying to Ares for just that. Tythra cared for victory, yes, but not at the cost of all the lives that would be sailing to Egypt. What Tythra wanted more for the men was strength. Strength to live and strength to carry on and victory in strength will surely follow. Should the sands of Egypt only be painted with the blood of those that hail there, and Greek blood remain in the bodies of those it belongs.
But it was not just the men who Tythra cared for, clearly. Should Ares lend his strength for the women who remain. The women of Colchis were not weak or unintelligent. They were proud. They had capabilities far beyond what their gender typically limited themself to. Tythra did not wish to see tears of the women that remained, but a community that comes together in service of their kingdom and the war that was just beyond the horizon. Tythra did not doubt the strength of the citizens of Colchis, but prayed for more so that the hearts of every citizen could be prepared for the turbulent waters that were to come.
With her prayer done she remained on the floor. Finally, Tythra words broke through the resounding silence. “It is not just the men that sail to war, but the hearts and minds of the women too. Many tears will be shed, just like the blood that will cover the sands. This is not a war in which a man will fight to climb the ranks of the military, looking for a chance to play a hero. This is the time for the citizens of Greece to prove their worth, to stand together and weather the storm that is about to come. This war is not about the individual but the collective group, one in mind and spirit. Is that not right, nephew?” Tythra finally stood, her eyes flickering to Vangelis.
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Jun 22, 2020 18:14:12 GMT
Posted In Humble Mortal on Jun 22, 2020 18:14:12 GMT
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While Vangelis was certainly not one for words, quiet and stoic, Tythra could not blame him at this moment. The air around Colchis as of late was heavy, as wives and children prepared for the men to go, worry aching in their souls. The boats that will be leaving Colchis will return emptier, and while there may be a celebration of victory, mourning would soon follow. This was not the time for words. This was the time for empathy and understanding. This was the time to instill bravery in the warriors that were about to embark and love for the women who were waiting for a man that very well may never return. Words alone would not suffice, especially those words that often were tinged with emptiness.
With a soft nod, Tythra made her way up the steps, though she did give him a wry smile of amusement at his words. Do be careful not to repeat that in front of my daughters, lest you wish to panic them with thoughts of my immortality. They do fear the idea that I will always be watching over them, with a dragon’s eye and a mouth full of fire.”
Tythra nodded her head at the priests, entering the temple where the large statue of Ares, fresh blood upon his feet, stood. Everything felt still, silent. The Princess walked forward, eyes never leaving the statue until she finally got to her knees, bowing her head in a single prayer.
To ask for victory was foolish, for all of Colchis will be praying to Ares for just that. Tythra cared for victory, yes, but not at the cost of all the lives that would be sailing to Egypt. What Tythra wanted more for the men was strength. Strength to live and strength to carry on and victory in strength will surely follow. Should the sands of Egypt only be painted with the blood of those that hail there, and Greek blood remain in the bodies of those it belongs.
But it was not just the men who Tythra cared for, clearly. Should Ares lend his strength for the women who remain. The women of Colchis were not weak or unintelligent. They were proud. They had capabilities far beyond what their gender typically limited themself to. Tythra did not wish to see tears of the women that remained, but a community that comes together in service of their kingdom and the war that was just beyond the horizon. Tythra did not doubt the strength of the citizens of Colchis, but prayed for more so that the hearts of every citizen could be prepared for the turbulent waters that were to come.
With her prayer done she remained on the floor. Finally, Tythra words broke through the resounding silence. “It is not just the men that sail to war, but the hearts and minds of the women too. Many tears will be shed, just like the blood that will cover the sands. This is not a war in which a man will fight to climb the ranks of the military, looking for a chance to play a hero. This is the time for the citizens of Greece to prove their worth, to stand together and weather the storm that is about to come. This war is not about the individual but the collective group, one in mind and spirit. Is that not right, nephew?” Tythra finally stood, her eyes flickering to Vangelis.
While Vangelis was certainly not one for words, quiet and stoic, Tythra could not blame him at this moment. The air around Colchis as of late was heavy, as wives and children prepared for the men to go, worry aching in their souls. The boats that will be leaving Colchis will return emptier, and while there may be a celebration of victory, mourning would soon follow. This was not the time for words. This was the time for empathy and understanding. This was the time to instill bravery in the warriors that were about to embark and love for the women who were waiting for a man that very well may never return. Words alone would not suffice, especially those words that often were tinged with emptiness.
With a soft nod, Tythra made her way up the steps, though she did give him a wry smile of amusement at his words. Do be careful not to repeat that in front of my daughters, lest you wish to panic them with thoughts of my immortality. They do fear the idea that I will always be watching over them, with a dragon’s eye and a mouth full of fire.”
Tythra nodded her head at the priests, entering the temple where the large statue of Ares, fresh blood upon his feet, stood. Everything felt still, silent. The Princess walked forward, eyes never leaving the statue until she finally got to her knees, bowing her head in a single prayer.
To ask for victory was foolish, for all of Colchis will be praying to Ares for just that. Tythra cared for victory, yes, but not at the cost of all the lives that would be sailing to Egypt. What Tythra wanted more for the men was strength. Strength to live and strength to carry on and victory in strength will surely follow. Should the sands of Egypt only be painted with the blood of those that hail there, and Greek blood remain in the bodies of those it belongs.
But it was not just the men who Tythra cared for, clearly. Should Ares lend his strength for the women who remain. The women of Colchis were not weak or unintelligent. They were proud. They had capabilities far beyond what their gender typically limited themself to. Tythra did not wish to see tears of the women that remained, but a community that comes together in service of their kingdom and the war that was just beyond the horizon. Tythra did not doubt the strength of the citizens of Colchis, but prayed for more so that the hearts of every citizen could be prepared for the turbulent waters that were to come.
With her prayer done she remained on the floor. Finally, Tythra words broke through the resounding silence. “It is not just the men that sail to war, but the hearts and minds of the women too. Many tears will be shed, just like the blood that will cover the sands. This is not a war in which a man will fight to climb the ranks of the military, looking for a chance to play a hero. This is the time for the citizens of Greece to prove their worth, to stand together and weather the storm that is about to come. This war is not about the individual but the collective group, one in mind and spirit. Is that not right, nephew?” Tythra finally stood, her eyes flickering to Vangelis.
Vangelis' lips twitched into a curl at one corner as Tythra likened herself to a literal dragon, her daughters fearing the fire that she might spout or the scales she might show. He had never considered his aunt a particularly scary woman but perhaps that was due to his gender or his age. As a male, and first-born son to the throne, all of Colchis was at his own disposal and choice. Tythra included. He respected her. But there was no reason to fear her. Not like she instilled in her children.
And yet, Vangelis knew that the fears that Imeeya and Essa might hold for the matriarch of their House were less to do with terror over she, as a person, but the possibility of disappointing her and her expectations for their life. At least, that was the impression that Vangelis had always taken from them. Yet, it was also possible that he was simply transferring his own feelings of inferiority over his own parent. The king was a force to be reckoned with on and off the battlefield and Vangelis had always been determined to make him proud. Apparently, now, that was far less likely than it might have been a week ago.
Pushing aside the mess that his impending nuptials had created, Vangelis looked towards his aunt with an expression of wry amusement over her comments and accompanied her inside the temple. Once he had returned to the chambers of the God of War, he took a step back, moving towards the wall of the worship space and gave Tythra both the space and privacy to commune with the God in her own way. He observed but he did not watch, keeping a polite distance. His feet were spread to shoulder-width and his arms folded over his chest. He appeared to form another statue for the collection along the walls, only in colour.
When Tythra had completed her prayers and risen to her feet, the blonde waves of her hair, falling back over her shoulder and down a back left bare by an elegant chiton of blue silks, he moved forward once more to join her. Their feet carried them to a union of distance in the centre of the hall.
Vangelis said nothing in that moment, allowing Tythra to speak the thoughts that troubled her mind. She talked of tears and of mourning. Of trial and of pain. They were necessary parts of war and Vangelis was all too aware of how that suffering was not solely kept the dancefloor upon which Ares liked to lead. The losses would be more for those that remained at home, hoping and praying, than they would by the men on the frontlines. There, loss was something that was kept to the back of one's mind, drowned in the forward desire to see victory reign. The absence of good men was only felt when they returned to the shores of Colchis and witnessed the destruction of lives and loves that their deaths had caused.
Vangelis exhaled slowly through the nose when Tythra asked him for confirmation of the war they were about to face. He had never liked to see battles as opportunities for personal gain or the progression of a military career. But he was also aware that, if such encouragements were not provided, no man would ever enlist. And he had a skewed perspective nonetheless from his birth and his ease with rising through the ranks. But Tythra was right. This coming war would be little to do with personal gain or the simple making of careers that the frequent battles in the north provided. It would be a battle of aggression and defence.
"It is." He answered his aunt, his eyes shut down and his expression serious. "If Egypt is to defeat King Achilleas and attack the Taengean coastline, they have few defences. Their lands do not give them the protection that ours do and they are open to chariot attack." It was Egypt's most powerful method of fighting. "They would be overrun and then all of Greece would be at risk, denied commerce and horses." He shook his head. "If one of us falls the others are severely weakened. It is for this reason that my father created the treaty between our kingdoms and I intend to uphold it."
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Vangelis' lips twitched into a curl at one corner as Tythra likened herself to a literal dragon, her daughters fearing the fire that she might spout or the scales she might show. He had never considered his aunt a particularly scary woman but perhaps that was due to his gender or his age. As a male, and first-born son to the throne, all of Colchis was at his own disposal and choice. Tythra included. He respected her. But there was no reason to fear her. Not like she instilled in her children.
And yet, Vangelis knew that the fears that Imeeya and Essa might hold for the matriarch of their House were less to do with terror over she, as a person, but the possibility of disappointing her and her expectations for their life. At least, that was the impression that Vangelis had always taken from them. Yet, it was also possible that he was simply transferring his own feelings of inferiority over his own parent. The king was a force to be reckoned with on and off the battlefield and Vangelis had always been determined to make him proud. Apparently, now, that was far less likely than it might have been a week ago.
Pushing aside the mess that his impending nuptials had created, Vangelis looked towards his aunt with an expression of wry amusement over her comments and accompanied her inside the temple. Once he had returned to the chambers of the God of War, he took a step back, moving towards the wall of the worship space and gave Tythra both the space and privacy to commune with the God in her own way. He observed but he did not watch, keeping a polite distance. His feet were spread to shoulder-width and his arms folded over his chest. He appeared to form another statue for the collection along the walls, only in colour.
When Tythra had completed her prayers and risen to her feet, the blonde waves of her hair, falling back over her shoulder and down a back left bare by an elegant chiton of blue silks, he moved forward once more to join her. Their feet carried them to a union of distance in the centre of the hall.
Vangelis said nothing in that moment, allowing Tythra to speak the thoughts that troubled her mind. She talked of tears and of mourning. Of trial and of pain. They were necessary parts of war and Vangelis was all too aware of how that suffering was not solely kept the dancefloor upon which Ares liked to lead. The losses would be more for those that remained at home, hoping and praying, than they would by the men on the frontlines. There, loss was something that was kept to the back of one's mind, drowned in the forward desire to see victory reign. The absence of good men was only felt when they returned to the shores of Colchis and witnessed the destruction of lives and loves that their deaths had caused.
Vangelis exhaled slowly through the nose when Tythra asked him for confirmation of the war they were about to face. He had never liked to see battles as opportunities for personal gain or the progression of a military career. But he was also aware that, if such encouragements were not provided, no man would ever enlist. And he had a skewed perspective nonetheless from his birth and his ease with rising through the ranks. But Tythra was right. This coming war would be little to do with personal gain or the simple making of careers that the frequent battles in the north provided. It would be a battle of aggression and defence.
"It is." He answered his aunt, his eyes shut down and his expression serious. "If Egypt is to defeat King Achilleas and attack the Taengean coastline, they have few defences. Their lands do not give them the protection that ours do and they are open to chariot attack." It was Egypt's most powerful method of fighting. "They would be overrun and then all of Greece would be at risk, denied commerce and horses." He shook his head. "If one of us falls the others are severely weakened. It is for this reason that my father created the treaty between our kingdoms and I intend to uphold it."
Vangelis' lips twitched into a curl at one corner as Tythra likened herself to a literal dragon, her daughters fearing the fire that she might spout or the scales she might show. He had never considered his aunt a particularly scary woman but perhaps that was due to his gender or his age. As a male, and first-born son to the throne, all of Colchis was at his own disposal and choice. Tythra included. He respected her. But there was no reason to fear her. Not like she instilled in her children.
And yet, Vangelis knew that the fears that Imeeya and Essa might hold for the matriarch of their House were less to do with terror over she, as a person, but the possibility of disappointing her and her expectations for their life. At least, that was the impression that Vangelis had always taken from them. Yet, it was also possible that he was simply transferring his own feelings of inferiority over his own parent. The king was a force to be reckoned with on and off the battlefield and Vangelis had always been determined to make him proud. Apparently, now, that was far less likely than it might have been a week ago.
Pushing aside the mess that his impending nuptials had created, Vangelis looked towards his aunt with an expression of wry amusement over her comments and accompanied her inside the temple. Once he had returned to the chambers of the God of War, he took a step back, moving towards the wall of the worship space and gave Tythra both the space and privacy to commune with the God in her own way. He observed but he did not watch, keeping a polite distance. His feet were spread to shoulder-width and his arms folded over his chest. He appeared to form another statue for the collection along the walls, only in colour.
When Tythra had completed her prayers and risen to her feet, the blonde waves of her hair, falling back over her shoulder and down a back left bare by an elegant chiton of blue silks, he moved forward once more to join her. Their feet carried them to a union of distance in the centre of the hall.
Vangelis said nothing in that moment, allowing Tythra to speak the thoughts that troubled her mind. She talked of tears and of mourning. Of trial and of pain. They were necessary parts of war and Vangelis was all too aware of how that suffering was not solely kept the dancefloor upon which Ares liked to lead. The losses would be more for those that remained at home, hoping and praying, than they would by the men on the frontlines. There, loss was something that was kept to the back of one's mind, drowned in the forward desire to see victory reign. The absence of good men was only felt when they returned to the shores of Colchis and witnessed the destruction of lives and loves that their deaths had caused.
Vangelis exhaled slowly through the nose when Tythra asked him for confirmation of the war they were about to face. He had never liked to see battles as opportunities for personal gain or the progression of a military career. But he was also aware that, if such encouragements were not provided, no man would ever enlist. And he had a skewed perspective nonetheless from his birth and his ease with rising through the ranks. But Tythra was right. This coming war would be little to do with personal gain or the simple making of careers that the frequent battles in the north provided. It would be a battle of aggression and defence.
"It is." He answered his aunt, his eyes shut down and his expression serious. "If Egypt is to defeat King Achilleas and attack the Taengean coastline, they have few defences. Their lands do not give them the protection that ours do and they are open to chariot attack." It was Egypt's most powerful method of fighting. "They would be overrun and then all of Greece would be at risk, denied commerce and horses." He shook his head. "If one of us falls the others are severely weakened. It is for this reason that my father created the treaty between our kingdoms and I intend to uphold it."
As a royal and sister to Tython, Tythra knew full well why the treaty was created. That being said when the treaty was created, it was with great men who held power. Now? Crowns passed on and the only thing that remained steady was Colchis, forever strong and sturdy. The treaty as good and noble as it is does not account for the greed of man. For it was royals that negotiated the deal, not young soldiers about to see a real battle for the first time. Men knew they could lose their life, but they also knew they had a lot to gain from war. It was the people at the top, her brother, her nephews that would gain nothing and could lose everything.
A good leader expects greatness from his people. A good leader inspires greatness. But those below him prepare for a reality that does not meet their leader’s vision. Contingency plans must be made. The fallacy of man can prove devastating in a war. Those that aspire for their own greatness and not the greatness for their kingdom, their nation, could prove a poison deadlier than any other.
But Tythra was sure this was known. She need not speak her thoughts to her nephew, for he was much like his father, and he knew what was at stake for all of Greece. While Tythra was one to typically speak her mind, in this she did not have to. She had faith in Vangelis’s strength and the unspoken words between them to be understood.
So Tythra smiled at her nephew. A smile was not rare for the Princess, though unlike the ones she dawned in court, this one was more genuine. Reserved for only family, filled with love from a mother and aunt. “Do you know you were such a fearsome little fighter? Even when you were just a toddler. No one dared face against the mighty Prince Vangelis. My heart broke for your mother, for I was sure you were born with a sword at hand and a scowl across your face.” Tythra was only partially joking. Vangelis was a natural swordsman and Tythra felt more at ease with him going than anyone else, believing that none stood a chance against him. However, with war there are uncertainties. There is a chance that this conversation she is having with Vangelis very well might be their last. These moments alone in the temple could be the final time she spent time just aunt and nephew.
But Tythra mustn’t think of that. She did not come to the temple to find more worry. She came to find confidence in Vangelis and all of those fighting for Greece. Tytrha with a small nod made a motion towards the exit. “I’m glad that we ran into each other, nephew. Any moment with family is time spent preciously. Something I try to instill in my daughters.” Though, just as Tythra was at their age, they are stubbornly trying to find their own independence. “Before you sail to Egypt we should all find time as a family once again to share a meal. This time without so much… dramatics.”
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As a royal and sister to Tython, Tythra knew full well why the treaty was created. That being said when the treaty was created, it was with great men who held power. Now? Crowns passed on and the only thing that remained steady was Colchis, forever strong and sturdy. The treaty as good and noble as it is does not account for the greed of man. For it was royals that negotiated the deal, not young soldiers about to see a real battle for the first time. Men knew they could lose their life, but they also knew they had a lot to gain from war. It was the people at the top, her brother, her nephews that would gain nothing and could lose everything.
A good leader expects greatness from his people. A good leader inspires greatness. But those below him prepare for a reality that does not meet their leader’s vision. Contingency plans must be made. The fallacy of man can prove devastating in a war. Those that aspire for their own greatness and not the greatness for their kingdom, their nation, could prove a poison deadlier than any other.
But Tythra was sure this was known. She need not speak her thoughts to her nephew, for he was much like his father, and he knew what was at stake for all of Greece. While Tythra was one to typically speak her mind, in this she did not have to. She had faith in Vangelis’s strength and the unspoken words between them to be understood.
So Tythra smiled at her nephew. A smile was not rare for the Princess, though unlike the ones she dawned in court, this one was more genuine. Reserved for only family, filled with love from a mother and aunt. “Do you know you were such a fearsome little fighter? Even when you were just a toddler. No one dared face against the mighty Prince Vangelis. My heart broke for your mother, for I was sure you were born with a sword at hand and a scowl across your face.” Tythra was only partially joking. Vangelis was a natural swordsman and Tythra felt more at ease with him going than anyone else, believing that none stood a chance against him. However, with war there are uncertainties. There is a chance that this conversation she is having with Vangelis very well might be their last. These moments alone in the temple could be the final time she spent time just aunt and nephew.
But Tythra mustn’t think of that. She did not come to the temple to find more worry. She came to find confidence in Vangelis and all of those fighting for Greece. Tytrha with a small nod made a motion towards the exit. “I’m glad that we ran into each other, nephew. Any moment with family is time spent preciously. Something I try to instill in my daughters.” Though, just as Tythra was at their age, they are stubbornly trying to find their own independence. “Before you sail to Egypt we should all find time as a family once again to share a meal. This time without so much… dramatics.”
As a royal and sister to Tython, Tythra knew full well why the treaty was created. That being said when the treaty was created, it was with great men who held power. Now? Crowns passed on and the only thing that remained steady was Colchis, forever strong and sturdy. The treaty as good and noble as it is does not account for the greed of man. For it was royals that negotiated the deal, not young soldiers about to see a real battle for the first time. Men knew they could lose their life, but they also knew they had a lot to gain from war. It was the people at the top, her brother, her nephews that would gain nothing and could lose everything.
A good leader expects greatness from his people. A good leader inspires greatness. But those below him prepare for a reality that does not meet their leader’s vision. Contingency plans must be made. The fallacy of man can prove devastating in a war. Those that aspire for their own greatness and not the greatness for their kingdom, their nation, could prove a poison deadlier than any other.
But Tythra was sure this was known. She need not speak her thoughts to her nephew, for he was much like his father, and he knew what was at stake for all of Greece. While Tythra was one to typically speak her mind, in this she did not have to. She had faith in Vangelis’s strength and the unspoken words between them to be understood.
So Tythra smiled at her nephew. A smile was not rare for the Princess, though unlike the ones she dawned in court, this one was more genuine. Reserved for only family, filled with love from a mother and aunt. “Do you know you were such a fearsome little fighter? Even when you were just a toddler. No one dared face against the mighty Prince Vangelis. My heart broke for your mother, for I was sure you were born with a sword at hand and a scowl across your face.” Tythra was only partially joking. Vangelis was a natural swordsman and Tythra felt more at ease with him going than anyone else, believing that none stood a chance against him. However, with war there are uncertainties. There is a chance that this conversation she is having with Vangelis very well might be their last. These moments alone in the temple could be the final time she spent time just aunt and nephew.
But Tythra mustn’t think of that. She did not come to the temple to find more worry. She came to find confidence in Vangelis and all of those fighting for Greece. Tytrha with a small nod made a motion towards the exit. “I’m glad that we ran into each other, nephew. Any moment with family is time spent preciously. Something I try to instill in my daughters.” Though, just as Tythra was at their age, they are stubbornly trying to find their own independence. “Before you sail to Egypt we should all find time as a family once again to share a meal. This time without so much… dramatics.”
Vangelis watched and listened to his aunt's stories with a mixture of emotions. He had only recently come to accept an awareness of his limitations as a human being. Of his fallacies and his faults in social connection and the ability to live a life independent of his crown. His relationship with Selene, his dramas around Thea and his lack of a personal stake upon just about anything around him had started to pull at a few of the threads that held together his certainty of person and identity. He had begun to doubt, as he had never done before, that serving his king and being a weapon in the hands of Colchian rule - his own rule - was to be the be all and end all of his existence. And in equal measure, doubt that he could, in fact, be anything else.
Tythra's accounts of him as a child hit upon this doubt and personal, private fear without meaning to. It pulled at those threads, suggesting that, ever since birth, he had truly been meant to be nothing but a sword in the hands of those that sought national justice. One being himself. Vangelis was struggling with the idea of separating the concepts of Vangelis the Man and Vangelis the Prince or Fighter. Now, Tythra implied that he had never truly been Vangelis the Boy. He had only ever been a soldier of Colchis. In this, Vangelis was saddened.
And yet, the conflicting reaction in his heart was one of confidence, assurance. If he had been born with sword in hand as Tythra mused, then he was destined to victorious battles. He was all that he could be and had been preparing for just such a life since his very birth. Vangelis grabbed hold of this mentality and chose to ignore the other. He settled that swirling mixture of discontent and grasped the confidence that burned with her sentiment.
For the stories of his childhood rang true. He had been fearsome as the eldest. Leader of his brothers on adventures and protector of his siblings from all danger. As he had grown stronger, he had grown more stoic, required to keep his emotions in check if he was to continue succeeding in larger, harsher conflicts that now kept all of Colchis safe - not just his family. It had been a sacrifice he was willing to make. And one that was expected of him, all the same.
When Tythra offered a small window into the privacy of her own life she commented on her daughters; upon how they had yet to learn that time with family was precious and to be cherished. His lips pulled to one side in a smile that - like hers - was rarely seen outside of the intimacy of those who claimed a blood relation to him.
"My cousins are still young, aunt." He offered to her, by means of an explanation. His eyes were kind and understanding to her frustrations. "They will grow with wisdom in time. They are too much like their mother not to." This last was accompanied by a large hand that he rose to her shoulder and settled upon her arm. It was perhaps a patronising touch had Vangelis not been heir to the throne and so much taller than his aunt. Despite the difference in age, their roles in life meant that he could show such affection without it appearing condescending. In fact, it showed his genuine respect and care for the woman.
When she suggested a meal with the family before his leave-taking to Egypt, Vangelis smiled again and shook his head, his hand fell away.
"Perhaps." He agreed, but it was clear that the shaking of his head was meant for his next words... "I did not intend to cause dramatics, I hope you understand aunt." Looking away with an expression that was suddenly dower he made a face of belligerent exasperation. "And had I known how events would unfold I would have saved us all the embarrassment of a promise due to be broken." His brows were low over his eyes and a dipping shadow appeared between them as he considered the new chaos within the Kotas household now that Selene had left and Thea had moved in... Not to mention the disgust, disdain and fractured relationships that it had caused between himself and most of his family.
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Vangelis watched and listened to his aunt's stories with a mixture of emotions. He had only recently come to accept an awareness of his limitations as a human being. Of his fallacies and his faults in social connection and the ability to live a life independent of his crown. His relationship with Selene, his dramas around Thea and his lack of a personal stake upon just about anything around him had started to pull at a few of the threads that held together his certainty of person and identity. He had begun to doubt, as he had never done before, that serving his king and being a weapon in the hands of Colchian rule - his own rule - was to be the be all and end all of his existence. And in equal measure, doubt that he could, in fact, be anything else.
Tythra's accounts of him as a child hit upon this doubt and personal, private fear without meaning to. It pulled at those threads, suggesting that, ever since birth, he had truly been meant to be nothing but a sword in the hands of those that sought national justice. One being himself. Vangelis was struggling with the idea of separating the concepts of Vangelis the Man and Vangelis the Prince or Fighter. Now, Tythra implied that he had never truly been Vangelis the Boy. He had only ever been a soldier of Colchis. In this, Vangelis was saddened.
And yet, the conflicting reaction in his heart was one of confidence, assurance. If he had been born with sword in hand as Tythra mused, then he was destined to victorious battles. He was all that he could be and had been preparing for just such a life since his very birth. Vangelis grabbed hold of this mentality and chose to ignore the other. He settled that swirling mixture of discontent and grasped the confidence that burned with her sentiment.
For the stories of his childhood rang true. He had been fearsome as the eldest. Leader of his brothers on adventures and protector of his siblings from all danger. As he had grown stronger, he had grown more stoic, required to keep his emotions in check if he was to continue succeeding in larger, harsher conflicts that now kept all of Colchis safe - not just his family. It had been a sacrifice he was willing to make. And one that was expected of him, all the same.
When Tythra offered a small window into the privacy of her own life she commented on her daughters; upon how they had yet to learn that time with family was precious and to be cherished. His lips pulled to one side in a smile that - like hers - was rarely seen outside of the intimacy of those who claimed a blood relation to him.
"My cousins are still young, aunt." He offered to her, by means of an explanation. His eyes were kind and understanding to her frustrations. "They will grow with wisdom in time. They are too much like their mother not to." This last was accompanied by a large hand that he rose to her shoulder and settled upon her arm. It was perhaps a patronising touch had Vangelis not been heir to the throne and so much taller than his aunt. Despite the difference in age, their roles in life meant that he could show such affection without it appearing condescending. In fact, it showed his genuine respect and care for the woman.
When she suggested a meal with the family before his leave-taking to Egypt, Vangelis smiled again and shook his head, his hand fell away.
"Perhaps." He agreed, but it was clear that the shaking of his head was meant for his next words... "I did not intend to cause dramatics, I hope you understand aunt." Looking away with an expression that was suddenly dower he made a face of belligerent exasperation. "And had I known how events would unfold I would have saved us all the embarrassment of a promise due to be broken." His brows were low over his eyes and a dipping shadow appeared between them as he considered the new chaos within the Kotas household now that Selene had left and Thea had moved in... Not to mention the disgust, disdain and fractured relationships that it had caused between himself and most of his family.
Vangelis watched and listened to his aunt's stories with a mixture of emotions. He had only recently come to accept an awareness of his limitations as a human being. Of his fallacies and his faults in social connection and the ability to live a life independent of his crown. His relationship with Selene, his dramas around Thea and his lack of a personal stake upon just about anything around him had started to pull at a few of the threads that held together his certainty of person and identity. He had begun to doubt, as he had never done before, that serving his king and being a weapon in the hands of Colchian rule - his own rule - was to be the be all and end all of his existence. And in equal measure, doubt that he could, in fact, be anything else.
Tythra's accounts of him as a child hit upon this doubt and personal, private fear without meaning to. It pulled at those threads, suggesting that, ever since birth, he had truly been meant to be nothing but a sword in the hands of those that sought national justice. One being himself. Vangelis was struggling with the idea of separating the concepts of Vangelis the Man and Vangelis the Prince or Fighter. Now, Tythra implied that he had never truly been Vangelis the Boy. He had only ever been a soldier of Colchis. In this, Vangelis was saddened.
And yet, the conflicting reaction in his heart was one of confidence, assurance. If he had been born with sword in hand as Tythra mused, then he was destined to victorious battles. He was all that he could be and had been preparing for just such a life since his very birth. Vangelis grabbed hold of this mentality and chose to ignore the other. He settled that swirling mixture of discontent and grasped the confidence that burned with her sentiment.
For the stories of his childhood rang true. He had been fearsome as the eldest. Leader of his brothers on adventures and protector of his siblings from all danger. As he had grown stronger, he had grown more stoic, required to keep his emotions in check if he was to continue succeeding in larger, harsher conflicts that now kept all of Colchis safe - not just his family. It had been a sacrifice he was willing to make. And one that was expected of him, all the same.
When Tythra offered a small window into the privacy of her own life she commented on her daughters; upon how they had yet to learn that time with family was precious and to be cherished. His lips pulled to one side in a smile that - like hers - was rarely seen outside of the intimacy of those who claimed a blood relation to him.
"My cousins are still young, aunt." He offered to her, by means of an explanation. His eyes were kind and understanding to her frustrations. "They will grow with wisdom in time. They are too much like their mother not to." This last was accompanied by a large hand that he rose to her shoulder and settled upon her arm. It was perhaps a patronising touch had Vangelis not been heir to the throne and so much taller than his aunt. Despite the difference in age, their roles in life meant that he could show such affection without it appearing condescending. In fact, it showed his genuine respect and care for the woman.
When she suggested a meal with the family before his leave-taking to Egypt, Vangelis smiled again and shook his head, his hand fell away.
"Perhaps." He agreed, but it was clear that the shaking of his head was meant for his next words... "I did not intend to cause dramatics, I hope you understand aunt." Looking away with an expression that was suddenly dower he made a face of belligerent exasperation. "And had I known how events would unfold I would have saved us all the embarrassment of a promise due to be broken." His brows were low over his eyes and a dipping shadow appeared between them as he considered the new chaos within the Kotas household now that Selene had left and Thea had moved in... Not to mention the disgust, disdain and fractured relationships that it had caused between himself and most of his family.
Tythra certainly had opinions of his relationship with the Thanasi girl. Tythra couldn’t put all the blame on Vangelis though. He made a foolish decision sleeping with the daughter of a family that spoke so ill of the Kotas and certainly had ambitions for the throne. The same can be said for his younger brother. The girls were proving to have quite the… affect on the men. And it grated Tythra dearly.
It was more irksome knowing that it was Vangelis who now had an attachment to a Thanasi and not Yiannis or Silas. Vangelis was heir, and when Tython died he would rise as Queen. Tythra did not want to see the Thanasi ambitions come to fruition. They weren’t worthy of the throne and would bring trouble to Colchis. They were greedy, reaching far beyond their station. At least Evras was the better of the sisters, so much so if some ill-begotten fate fell upon Vangelis she may be at least able to stomach Evras, but Thea of Thanasi and Vangelis of Kotas should not have a union or a child.
But who was Tythra to say anything? She could not rewind the past. She could not show up to hit her nephew upside the head and tell him to be proper and not bed a snake. She could not change anything now and only wait for an opportunity to do something. Besides, there were more pressing concerns that had to be handled to not her the time to worry herself over a girl who wasn’t even showing.
Despite the critical thoughts that were going through Tythra’s mind, never did her face betray them. She was incredibly practiced at keeping her emotions hidden beneath the surface, as most Kotas are. And nothing she could currently say would be anything Vangelis hadn’t heard or thought of himself. It was not the time nor place to lecture Vangelis as if he was some child, nor was she the person to ever do so. Though, perhaps the gods might get a laugh… or be horribly offended this was what they were talking about right outside their temples.
“My heart breaks for the Leventi, I… can relate to her disappointment.” Tythra did not go further, though she did feel a pang in her heart. Missed opportunities, a chance of a new world. A chance at… different happiness. “But she is beautiful and lovely, and joy will find her in the freedom of the responsibility the crown holds. And being home is a… comforting thing.” When she left Athenia, what comforted her most was Colchis. This was where Tythra was meant to be. “As for Lady Thea… well, things are as they are. But we shouldn’t let the dramatics ruin the bonds that tie all of us together. Let us find the time for all of us to sit together once more. Between Yanni and I, we will be sure to keep your father in line so we can have a nice family dinner and a memory to warm you on the cold nights ahead.”
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Tythra certainly had opinions of his relationship with the Thanasi girl. Tythra couldn’t put all the blame on Vangelis though. He made a foolish decision sleeping with the daughter of a family that spoke so ill of the Kotas and certainly had ambitions for the throne. The same can be said for his younger brother. The girls were proving to have quite the… affect on the men. And it grated Tythra dearly.
It was more irksome knowing that it was Vangelis who now had an attachment to a Thanasi and not Yiannis or Silas. Vangelis was heir, and when Tython died he would rise as Queen. Tythra did not want to see the Thanasi ambitions come to fruition. They weren’t worthy of the throne and would bring trouble to Colchis. They were greedy, reaching far beyond their station. At least Evras was the better of the sisters, so much so if some ill-begotten fate fell upon Vangelis she may be at least able to stomach Evras, but Thea of Thanasi and Vangelis of Kotas should not have a union or a child.
But who was Tythra to say anything? She could not rewind the past. She could not show up to hit her nephew upside the head and tell him to be proper and not bed a snake. She could not change anything now and only wait for an opportunity to do something. Besides, there were more pressing concerns that had to be handled to not her the time to worry herself over a girl who wasn’t even showing.
Despite the critical thoughts that were going through Tythra’s mind, never did her face betray them. She was incredibly practiced at keeping her emotions hidden beneath the surface, as most Kotas are. And nothing she could currently say would be anything Vangelis hadn’t heard or thought of himself. It was not the time nor place to lecture Vangelis as if he was some child, nor was she the person to ever do so. Though, perhaps the gods might get a laugh… or be horribly offended this was what they were talking about right outside their temples.
“My heart breaks for the Leventi, I… can relate to her disappointment.” Tythra did not go further, though she did feel a pang in her heart. Missed opportunities, a chance of a new world. A chance at… different happiness. “But she is beautiful and lovely, and joy will find her in the freedom of the responsibility the crown holds. And being home is a… comforting thing.” When she left Athenia, what comforted her most was Colchis. This was where Tythra was meant to be. “As for Lady Thea… well, things are as they are. But we shouldn’t let the dramatics ruin the bonds that tie all of us together. Let us find the time for all of us to sit together once more. Between Yanni and I, we will be sure to keep your father in line so we can have a nice family dinner and a memory to warm you on the cold nights ahead.”
Tythra certainly had opinions of his relationship with the Thanasi girl. Tythra couldn’t put all the blame on Vangelis though. He made a foolish decision sleeping with the daughter of a family that spoke so ill of the Kotas and certainly had ambitions for the throne. The same can be said for his younger brother. The girls were proving to have quite the… affect on the men. And it grated Tythra dearly.
It was more irksome knowing that it was Vangelis who now had an attachment to a Thanasi and not Yiannis or Silas. Vangelis was heir, and when Tython died he would rise as Queen. Tythra did not want to see the Thanasi ambitions come to fruition. They weren’t worthy of the throne and would bring trouble to Colchis. They were greedy, reaching far beyond their station. At least Evras was the better of the sisters, so much so if some ill-begotten fate fell upon Vangelis she may be at least able to stomach Evras, but Thea of Thanasi and Vangelis of Kotas should not have a union or a child.
But who was Tythra to say anything? She could not rewind the past. She could not show up to hit her nephew upside the head and tell him to be proper and not bed a snake. She could not change anything now and only wait for an opportunity to do something. Besides, there were more pressing concerns that had to be handled to not her the time to worry herself over a girl who wasn’t even showing.
Despite the critical thoughts that were going through Tythra’s mind, never did her face betray them. She was incredibly practiced at keeping her emotions hidden beneath the surface, as most Kotas are. And nothing she could currently say would be anything Vangelis hadn’t heard or thought of himself. It was not the time nor place to lecture Vangelis as if he was some child, nor was she the person to ever do so. Though, perhaps the gods might get a laugh… or be horribly offended this was what they were talking about right outside their temples.
“My heart breaks for the Leventi, I… can relate to her disappointment.” Tythra did not go further, though she did feel a pang in her heart. Missed opportunities, a chance of a new world. A chance at… different happiness. “But she is beautiful and lovely, and joy will find her in the freedom of the responsibility the crown holds. And being home is a… comforting thing.” When she left Athenia, what comforted her most was Colchis. This was where Tythra was meant to be. “As for Lady Thea… well, things are as they are. But we shouldn’t let the dramatics ruin the bonds that tie all of us together. Let us find the time for all of us to sit together once more. Between Yanni and I, we will be sure to keep your father in line so we can have a nice family dinner and a memory to warm you on the cold nights ahead.”
Vangelis stood with Tythra comfortably in the entrance to the temples with little care what the Gods might think of their topic of conversation. He knew the God to be all powerful; and respected them in every way that was appropriate and called for by his role, his status and his life. But he also did not believe that they would care anything for the muddle he had made of his personal life. Instead, his focus was upon his aunt and his interest keen in her opinion of it. In recent days, Vangelis felt as if he had damaged the relationship with his parents and he felt a little lost without the on-going support that he had never been without.
When Tythra spoke of Selene and how she would find happiness, Vangelis fervently hoped so. It had never been his intention to harm his friend, the woman that he cared for and had been ready to marry. Events had unfolded beyond his control and in a moment of weakness he had permitted the Fates to play with his life in a way that was cruel to his feelings but clearly important to them. He did not know if Selene felt the same way, but he hoped that she at least understood thus far.
Rather than respond to Tythra’s comments regarding the Leventi family, Vangelis simply stood in quiet self-punishment. His lips were pale as they pressed thinly together and his jaw had splayed at the ears where his teeth had clenched down in a light form of self-punishment.
When the topic moved on to the idea of Lady Thea, however, Tythra was tactful not to speak of her personal opinion on the matter. Which could only mean that she disapproved. Vangelis was resigned to adding another figure of respect in his life to those that were disappointed in his behaviour. And a growing sense of anger warmed in the pit of his stomach. It was not as if he had done anything so terribly wrong. Neither he nor Thea had wanted this. It was outside of their control and had fallen into the hands of the divine. Why was judgment therefore falling upon him?
But he knew the answer. When you were heir to the throne and due to be King, everything fell upon you. Every element was under your responsibility, every issue in the entire kingdom your fault. It was part of the blessing and curse that was being royal.
When his aunt had finished with her suggestion of a fine meal, Vangelis smiled a little at her intentions. He nodded slightly.
"Whether a final meal can be arranged or not, aunt, I have fine memories enough to see me true." He told her. Despite recent, chilly dispositions in the House of Kotas, he held many years of memories from before them. "But... I do have a favour to ask of you that would see my mind more settled once at war..."
He had not had the chance to ask this of his parents, not daring to offer them more details of his and Thea's relationship or the stock that he now placed in the woman that carried his child.
"Whether you think me foolish for such a thing or not, I believe Thea when she says that these events were not of her making. I do not believe that she has orchestrated this pregnancy, nor that she should be punished for an unprovable intention." He shook his head. "Thea has wanted this eventuality as little as I have and unlike ourselves with our familial support, she now resides in the Kotas manor where she has none."
Reaching out, Vangelis placed a hand on Tythra's upper arm, his gaze beseeching as he looked down upon the aunt that he had always looked up to and asked for her aid.
"Protect and support Thea for me, aunt? I promise you that neither of us intended for what the Fates have dictated for us but the end result is the same. She carries my child and I would see her given the respect she is due of the mother of my kin...?"
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Vangelis stood with Tythra comfortably in the entrance to the temples with little care what the Gods might think of their topic of conversation. He knew the God to be all powerful; and respected them in every way that was appropriate and called for by his role, his status and his life. But he also did not believe that they would care anything for the muddle he had made of his personal life. Instead, his focus was upon his aunt and his interest keen in her opinion of it. In recent days, Vangelis felt as if he had damaged the relationship with his parents and he felt a little lost without the on-going support that he had never been without.
When Tythra spoke of Selene and how she would find happiness, Vangelis fervently hoped so. It had never been his intention to harm his friend, the woman that he cared for and had been ready to marry. Events had unfolded beyond his control and in a moment of weakness he had permitted the Fates to play with his life in a way that was cruel to his feelings but clearly important to them. He did not know if Selene felt the same way, but he hoped that she at least understood thus far.
Rather than respond to Tythra’s comments regarding the Leventi family, Vangelis simply stood in quiet self-punishment. His lips were pale as they pressed thinly together and his jaw had splayed at the ears where his teeth had clenched down in a light form of self-punishment.
When the topic moved on to the idea of Lady Thea, however, Tythra was tactful not to speak of her personal opinion on the matter. Which could only mean that she disapproved. Vangelis was resigned to adding another figure of respect in his life to those that were disappointed in his behaviour. And a growing sense of anger warmed in the pit of his stomach. It was not as if he had done anything so terribly wrong. Neither he nor Thea had wanted this. It was outside of their control and had fallen into the hands of the divine. Why was judgment therefore falling upon him?
But he knew the answer. When you were heir to the throne and due to be King, everything fell upon you. Every element was under your responsibility, every issue in the entire kingdom your fault. It was part of the blessing and curse that was being royal.
When his aunt had finished with her suggestion of a fine meal, Vangelis smiled a little at her intentions. He nodded slightly.
"Whether a final meal can be arranged or not, aunt, I have fine memories enough to see me true." He told her. Despite recent, chilly dispositions in the House of Kotas, he held many years of memories from before them. "But... I do have a favour to ask of you that would see my mind more settled once at war..."
He had not had the chance to ask this of his parents, not daring to offer them more details of his and Thea's relationship or the stock that he now placed in the woman that carried his child.
"Whether you think me foolish for such a thing or not, I believe Thea when she says that these events were not of her making. I do not believe that she has orchestrated this pregnancy, nor that she should be punished for an unprovable intention." He shook his head. "Thea has wanted this eventuality as little as I have and unlike ourselves with our familial support, she now resides in the Kotas manor where she has none."
Reaching out, Vangelis placed a hand on Tythra's upper arm, his gaze beseeching as he looked down upon the aunt that he had always looked up to and asked for her aid.
"Protect and support Thea for me, aunt? I promise you that neither of us intended for what the Fates have dictated for us but the end result is the same. She carries my child and I would see her given the respect she is due of the mother of my kin...?"
Vangelis stood with Tythra comfortably in the entrance to the temples with little care what the Gods might think of their topic of conversation. He knew the God to be all powerful; and respected them in every way that was appropriate and called for by his role, his status and his life. But he also did not believe that they would care anything for the muddle he had made of his personal life. Instead, his focus was upon his aunt and his interest keen in her opinion of it. In recent days, Vangelis felt as if he had damaged the relationship with his parents and he felt a little lost without the on-going support that he had never been without.
When Tythra spoke of Selene and how she would find happiness, Vangelis fervently hoped so. It had never been his intention to harm his friend, the woman that he cared for and had been ready to marry. Events had unfolded beyond his control and in a moment of weakness he had permitted the Fates to play with his life in a way that was cruel to his feelings but clearly important to them. He did not know if Selene felt the same way, but he hoped that she at least understood thus far.
Rather than respond to Tythra’s comments regarding the Leventi family, Vangelis simply stood in quiet self-punishment. His lips were pale as they pressed thinly together and his jaw had splayed at the ears where his teeth had clenched down in a light form of self-punishment.
When the topic moved on to the idea of Lady Thea, however, Tythra was tactful not to speak of her personal opinion on the matter. Which could only mean that she disapproved. Vangelis was resigned to adding another figure of respect in his life to those that were disappointed in his behaviour. And a growing sense of anger warmed in the pit of his stomach. It was not as if he had done anything so terribly wrong. Neither he nor Thea had wanted this. It was outside of their control and had fallen into the hands of the divine. Why was judgment therefore falling upon him?
But he knew the answer. When you were heir to the throne and due to be King, everything fell upon you. Every element was under your responsibility, every issue in the entire kingdom your fault. It was part of the blessing and curse that was being royal.
When his aunt had finished with her suggestion of a fine meal, Vangelis smiled a little at her intentions. He nodded slightly.
"Whether a final meal can be arranged or not, aunt, I have fine memories enough to see me true." He told her. Despite recent, chilly dispositions in the House of Kotas, he held many years of memories from before them. "But... I do have a favour to ask of you that would see my mind more settled once at war..."
He had not had the chance to ask this of his parents, not daring to offer them more details of his and Thea's relationship or the stock that he now placed in the woman that carried his child.
"Whether you think me foolish for such a thing or not, I believe Thea when she says that these events were not of her making. I do not believe that she has orchestrated this pregnancy, nor that she should be punished for an unprovable intention." He shook his head. "Thea has wanted this eventuality as little as I have and unlike ourselves with our familial support, she now resides in the Kotas manor where she has none."
Reaching out, Vangelis placed a hand on Tythra's upper arm, his gaze beseeching as he looked down upon the aunt that he had always looked up to and asked for her aid.
"Protect and support Thea for me, aunt? I promise you that neither of us intended for what the Fates have dictated for us but the end result is the same. She carries my child and I would see her given the respect she is due of the mother of my kin...?"
Vangelis put Tythra in a difficult position with this request. Tythra did not hide her distaste of the Thanasi, particularly for its head. The bad blood between them goes back far before Tythra rose to her current position. The family covets the crown, one that should remain on Kotas heads. And now not one but two Thanasis would bear Kotas children and would soon dawn Kotas names. Evras was palatable, Thea less so. And at least with Evras there was a person in the way for her ever gaining a crown. But in Thea’s case, should they wed which is to be expected… well, Tythra certainly wasn’t pleased by this conclusion.
However, the Princess was not the type to lament on things beyond her control. While what Vangelis and Thea did was stupid and irresponsible, it is done. The girl is pregnant. What is Tythra supposed to do? Whine and wish it away? No, there was nothing left for the Princess to do then accept the inevitable. Even if the turn of events probably made the snake Dionysius happy that his brood was in spitting distance from the throne.
“While I cannot say I am… happy for you, nephew.” Tythra began honestly, choosing her words carefully, “I will not punish the girl. I wish you two approached the situation more… responsibly, I cannot hide my disappointment, but what is done is done.” A child out of wedlock… if this were Imeeya or Essa, this conversation would be going much differently. What is my brother teaching his sons? “We can only move forward.”
Tythra pursed her lips now, considering her next words. While they were being honest, “I’ll treat Lady Thea just as someone in this family deserves to be treated. I will make sure she’s cared for and support her the best that I can. But let me leave you with these words, nephew.” Tythra paused. “Thesus never knew of Essa’s existence. When my brother told me of his death, I did not weep for the husband that I lost. The tears that fell was for my children, the ones that would grow without a father. Their uncles filled the role the best that they could, but that did not stop my heart from shattering. You are fortunate, you are not Thesus. You know of your child, and you know you have someone more to fight for. Don’t forget that while you’re away, Vangelis. Too many women will be weeping for their fallen husbands and lovers. I do not wish Lady Thea to be one of them.”
Nor would she wish for her sister in law to mourn a loss of a child, nor her children the loss of their cousin, nor herself the loss of her nephew. Tythra will pray for her family every night they are away until this blasted war is over and she sees them return safely with her own eyes. Otherwise not even in death would they be protected from her wrath, particularly Tython for doing that to her twice.
“But this is a heavy topic. Enough of this.” Tythra’s smile returned to her face. “I give you my word, I will protect Lady Thea. Now let’s stop thinking of the dark days ahead and instead think excitedly for the moment you get to hold your bundle of joy.”
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Aug 21, 2020 22:34:47 GMT
Posted In Humble Mortal on Aug 21, 2020 22:34:47 GMT
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Vangelis put Tythra in a difficult position with this request. Tythra did not hide her distaste of the Thanasi, particularly for its head. The bad blood between them goes back far before Tythra rose to her current position. The family covets the crown, one that should remain on Kotas heads. And now not one but two Thanasis would bear Kotas children and would soon dawn Kotas names. Evras was palatable, Thea less so. And at least with Evras there was a person in the way for her ever gaining a crown. But in Thea’s case, should they wed which is to be expected… well, Tythra certainly wasn’t pleased by this conclusion.
However, the Princess was not the type to lament on things beyond her control. While what Vangelis and Thea did was stupid and irresponsible, it is done. The girl is pregnant. What is Tythra supposed to do? Whine and wish it away? No, there was nothing left for the Princess to do then accept the inevitable. Even if the turn of events probably made the snake Dionysius happy that his brood was in spitting distance from the throne.
“While I cannot say I am… happy for you, nephew.” Tythra began honestly, choosing her words carefully, “I will not punish the girl. I wish you two approached the situation more… responsibly, I cannot hide my disappointment, but what is done is done.” A child out of wedlock… if this were Imeeya or Essa, this conversation would be going much differently. What is my brother teaching his sons? “We can only move forward.”
Tythra pursed her lips now, considering her next words. While they were being honest, “I’ll treat Lady Thea just as someone in this family deserves to be treated. I will make sure she’s cared for and support her the best that I can. But let me leave you with these words, nephew.” Tythra paused. “Thesus never knew of Essa’s existence. When my brother told me of his death, I did not weep for the husband that I lost. The tears that fell was for my children, the ones that would grow without a father. Their uncles filled the role the best that they could, but that did not stop my heart from shattering. You are fortunate, you are not Thesus. You know of your child, and you know you have someone more to fight for. Don’t forget that while you’re away, Vangelis. Too many women will be weeping for their fallen husbands and lovers. I do not wish Lady Thea to be one of them.”
Nor would she wish for her sister in law to mourn a loss of a child, nor her children the loss of their cousin, nor herself the loss of her nephew. Tythra will pray for her family every night they are away until this blasted war is over and she sees them return safely with her own eyes. Otherwise not even in death would they be protected from her wrath, particularly Tython for doing that to her twice.
“But this is a heavy topic. Enough of this.” Tythra’s smile returned to her face. “I give you my word, I will protect Lady Thea. Now let’s stop thinking of the dark days ahead and instead think excitedly for the moment you get to hold your bundle of joy.”
Vangelis put Tythra in a difficult position with this request. Tythra did not hide her distaste of the Thanasi, particularly for its head. The bad blood between them goes back far before Tythra rose to her current position. The family covets the crown, one that should remain on Kotas heads. And now not one but two Thanasis would bear Kotas children and would soon dawn Kotas names. Evras was palatable, Thea less so. And at least with Evras there was a person in the way for her ever gaining a crown. But in Thea’s case, should they wed which is to be expected… well, Tythra certainly wasn’t pleased by this conclusion.
However, the Princess was not the type to lament on things beyond her control. While what Vangelis and Thea did was stupid and irresponsible, it is done. The girl is pregnant. What is Tythra supposed to do? Whine and wish it away? No, there was nothing left for the Princess to do then accept the inevitable. Even if the turn of events probably made the snake Dionysius happy that his brood was in spitting distance from the throne.
“While I cannot say I am… happy for you, nephew.” Tythra began honestly, choosing her words carefully, “I will not punish the girl. I wish you two approached the situation more… responsibly, I cannot hide my disappointment, but what is done is done.” A child out of wedlock… if this were Imeeya or Essa, this conversation would be going much differently. What is my brother teaching his sons? “We can only move forward.”
Tythra pursed her lips now, considering her next words. While they were being honest, “I’ll treat Lady Thea just as someone in this family deserves to be treated. I will make sure she’s cared for and support her the best that I can. But let me leave you with these words, nephew.” Tythra paused. “Thesus never knew of Essa’s existence. When my brother told me of his death, I did not weep for the husband that I lost. The tears that fell was for my children, the ones that would grow without a father. Their uncles filled the role the best that they could, but that did not stop my heart from shattering. You are fortunate, you are not Thesus. You know of your child, and you know you have someone more to fight for. Don’t forget that while you’re away, Vangelis. Too many women will be weeping for their fallen husbands and lovers. I do not wish Lady Thea to be one of them.”
Nor would she wish for her sister in law to mourn a loss of a child, nor her children the loss of their cousin, nor herself the loss of her nephew. Tythra will pray for her family every night they are away until this blasted war is over and she sees them return safely with her own eyes. Otherwise not even in death would they be protected from her wrath, particularly Tython for doing that to her twice.
“But this is a heavy topic. Enough of this.” Tythra’s smile returned to her face. “I give you my word, I will protect Lady Thea. Now let’s stop thinking of the dark days ahead and instead think excitedly for the moment you get to hold your bundle of joy.”
Vangelis felt his own sense of honour chipped away at Tythra's words. His self-pride and his dignity had already been bruised, mangled and shattered across its surface by the looks in the eyes of each of his parents. The Queen Yanni's disappointment had seen his heart bleed, his father's disapproval had shattered his bones. Now, his aunt's admittance to her own disagreement over his behaviour had Vangelis checking that his skin had not been peeled away. All three of these people were his greatest idols and his role models since birth. He had made only one folly - to have sexual relations with a woman. That was all. Had no other man in the history of the world seen fit to sleep with a woman he was not wed to? Part of him cried out at the injustice of it all. But the rest of him was too preoccupied with how the wounds inflicted upon him by the disapproving stares of his family made him ache in places he didn't know he had.
Swallowing back his weaknesses and his self-pity, Vangelis was skilled enough to ensure that he showed no such emotions upon his face. He kept his personal injury behind closed doors, never to allow others to see his doubts or harm. He bled in silence.
Instead, he focused on his aunt's following reassurance. That she would care for Thea and see that she was protected and given all that was due to her as his future wife and the mother of his children. She promised that Thea would see the same attentions that any of Kotas blood would be given and, based on the motto of the entire Kotas family, that was vow enough for Vangelis. He nodded his thanks, his fingers curling around Tythra's arm in a soft squeeze of affection and thanks as he met her stare.
When his aunt continued, however, Vangelis felt a tightening in his gut. A stranger to the idea of anxiety and foreboding, Vangelis listened to Tythra's words with a calm of mind that ignored the tension in his belly. She spoke of what it would be like for his child to grow up without a father, how the death of her husband had been the death of Essa's chances at knowing her paternal lineage. She spoke of her daughters growing up without a male role model, benefactor and protector.
The future that she painted with her words was entirely possible. If not in this war, Vangelis was likely to die on the battlefield. He had already persisted with such luck in all things military, he could only surmise that he had been permitted to live this long because the Gods held him in good favour. As soon as they decided that he was of more use in the Underworld than in the realm of the living, he was sure that @ares would no longer hold him in the palm of his safe hand. Instead, he would be relegated to the bloodied fields of his soldiers and find himself meeting the ferryman alongside them.
The idea that his child would grow up without knowing him was a very real possibility. And Tythra urged him to ensure that it did not happen.
Unable to promise such a thing but not wishing to show disrespect by discarding the concerns altogether, Vangelis simply nodded, his expression serious.
"I shall do what I can, aunt." He promised her. This was the only vow that he was truly able to stand by.
And then, in the blink of an eye and the wave of Tythra's hand, the subject was changed and turned to topics of more positive implication. She spoke of a future beyond the war and suggested the idea of his future 'bundle of joy' was a hope he should hold within him.
In truth, however, Vangelis had not really permitted himself to think along the lines of real fatherhood. He knew of Thea being with child, of course, he knew what it would mean to have an heir or a child. He knew that he would have to marry her. What he had not been able to fathom or think ahead to was the very real human being that would come out of this at the end of it. The life that had been created and the physical child that would be his to nurture and raise. With war on his doorstep... it had just been easier for his mind to focus on the issues at hand, not the future that stretched out before him. He had ensured that Thea was safe and cared for, had arranged for his wartime preparations so he had every chance of coming back, had set his mother to the task of weddings and ceremonies upon his return and removed Selene from the situation at hand. Beyond that... his mind had not braved to go.
And it wasn't able to now.
As if his head was foggy or his concept of children was beyond him, he could not envision would it would mean to see Thea holding a babe with his hair and eyes. He could not picture himself as a father, cradling the child in his arms. He could picture the future child of Evras and Zanon. Could see himself as an awkward uncle as he had been with Dion. But a father...? Suddenly, the images became cloudy and he simply couldn't recreate the notion into pictures in his head. It just wasn't an eventuality that he knew how to reconcile himself to.
Not wanting to blurt out such doubts or misconceptions to his aunt, Vangelis' lips pulled into a little tight smile and he nodded in thanks for her words of good intention. For she was at least right about one thing - that happy thoughts were often proved useful in ensuring men came back from war.
Vangelis just wasn't sure what to do with his own if they continued to be too blurry a hope to hold onto.
And it was this thought that struck him the hardest, in the very centre of his chest, as he escorted his aunt back to the Drakos manor before attending to his own home...
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Aug 29, 2020 11:57:08 GMT
Posted In Humble Mortal on Aug 29, 2020 11:57:08 GMT
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Vangelis felt his own sense of honour chipped away at Tythra's words. His self-pride and his dignity had already been bruised, mangled and shattered across its surface by the looks in the eyes of each of his parents. The Queen Yanni's disappointment had seen his heart bleed, his father's disapproval had shattered his bones. Now, his aunt's admittance to her own disagreement over his behaviour had Vangelis checking that his skin had not been peeled away. All three of these people were his greatest idols and his role models since birth. He had made only one folly - to have sexual relations with a woman. That was all. Had no other man in the history of the world seen fit to sleep with a woman he was not wed to? Part of him cried out at the injustice of it all. But the rest of him was too preoccupied with how the wounds inflicted upon him by the disapproving stares of his family made him ache in places he didn't know he had.
Swallowing back his weaknesses and his self-pity, Vangelis was skilled enough to ensure that he showed no such emotions upon his face. He kept his personal injury behind closed doors, never to allow others to see his doubts or harm. He bled in silence.
Instead, he focused on his aunt's following reassurance. That she would care for Thea and see that she was protected and given all that was due to her as his future wife and the mother of his children. She promised that Thea would see the same attentions that any of Kotas blood would be given and, based on the motto of the entire Kotas family, that was vow enough for Vangelis. He nodded his thanks, his fingers curling around Tythra's arm in a soft squeeze of affection and thanks as he met her stare.
When his aunt continued, however, Vangelis felt a tightening in his gut. A stranger to the idea of anxiety and foreboding, Vangelis listened to Tythra's words with a calm of mind that ignored the tension in his belly. She spoke of what it would be like for his child to grow up without a father, how the death of her husband had been the death of Essa's chances at knowing her paternal lineage. She spoke of her daughters growing up without a male role model, benefactor and protector.
The future that she painted with her words was entirely possible. If not in this war, Vangelis was likely to die on the battlefield. He had already persisted with such luck in all things military, he could only surmise that he had been permitted to live this long because the Gods held him in good favour. As soon as they decided that he was of more use in the Underworld than in the realm of the living, he was sure that @ares would no longer hold him in the palm of his safe hand. Instead, he would be relegated to the bloodied fields of his soldiers and find himself meeting the ferryman alongside them.
The idea that his child would grow up without knowing him was a very real possibility. And Tythra urged him to ensure that it did not happen.
Unable to promise such a thing but not wishing to show disrespect by discarding the concerns altogether, Vangelis simply nodded, his expression serious.
"I shall do what I can, aunt." He promised her. This was the only vow that he was truly able to stand by.
And then, in the blink of an eye and the wave of Tythra's hand, the subject was changed and turned to topics of more positive implication. She spoke of a future beyond the war and suggested the idea of his future 'bundle of joy' was a hope he should hold within him.
In truth, however, Vangelis had not really permitted himself to think along the lines of real fatherhood. He knew of Thea being with child, of course, he knew what it would mean to have an heir or a child. He knew that he would have to marry her. What he had not been able to fathom or think ahead to was the very real human being that would come out of this at the end of it. The life that had been created and the physical child that would be his to nurture and raise. With war on his doorstep... it had just been easier for his mind to focus on the issues at hand, not the future that stretched out before him. He had ensured that Thea was safe and cared for, had arranged for his wartime preparations so he had every chance of coming back, had set his mother to the task of weddings and ceremonies upon his return and removed Selene from the situation at hand. Beyond that... his mind had not braved to go.
And it wasn't able to now.
As if his head was foggy or his concept of children was beyond him, he could not envision would it would mean to see Thea holding a babe with his hair and eyes. He could not picture himself as a father, cradling the child in his arms. He could picture the future child of Evras and Zanon. Could see himself as an awkward uncle as he had been with Dion. But a father...? Suddenly, the images became cloudy and he simply couldn't recreate the notion into pictures in his head. It just wasn't an eventuality that he knew how to reconcile himself to.
Not wanting to blurt out such doubts or misconceptions to his aunt, Vangelis' lips pulled into a little tight smile and he nodded in thanks for her words of good intention. For she was at least right about one thing - that happy thoughts were often proved useful in ensuring men came back from war.
Vangelis just wasn't sure what to do with his own if they continued to be too blurry a hope to hold onto.
And it was this thought that struck him the hardest, in the very centre of his chest, as he escorted his aunt back to the Drakos manor before attending to his own home...
Vangelis felt his own sense of honour chipped away at Tythra's words. His self-pride and his dignity had already been bruised, mangled and shattered across its surface by the looks in the eyes of each of his parents. The Queen Yanni's disappointment had seen his heart bleed, his father's disapproval had shattered his bones. Now, his aunt's admittance to her own disagreement over his behaviour had Vangelis checking that his skin had not been peeled away. All three of these people were his greatest idols and his role models since birth. He had made only one folly - to have sexual relations with a woman. That was all. Had no other man in the history of the world seen fit to sleep with a woman he was not wed to? Part of him cried out at the injustice of it all. But the rest of him was too preoccupied with how the wounds inflicted upon him by the disapproving stares of his family made him ache in places he didn't know he had.
Swallowing back his weaknesses and his self-pity, Vangelis was skilled enough to ensure that he showed no such emotions upon his face. He kept his personal injury behind closed doors, never to allow others to see his doubts or harm. He bled in silence.
Instead, he focused on his aunt's following reassurance. That she would care for Thea and see that she was protected and given all that was due to her as his future wife and the mother of his children. She promised that Thea would see the same attentions that any of Kotas blood would be given and, based on the motto of the entire Kotas family, that was vow enough for Vangelis. He nodded his thanks, his fingers curling around Tythra's arm in a soft squeeze of affection and thanks as he met her stare.
When his aunt continued, however, Vangelis felt a tightening in his gut. A stranger to the idea of anxiety and foreboding, Vangelis listened to Tythra's words with a calm of mind that ignored the tension in his belly. She spoke of what it would be like for his child to grow up without a father, how the death of her husband had been the death of Essa's chances at knowing her paternal lineage. She spoke of her daughters growing up without a male role model, benefactor and protector.
The future that she painted with her words was entirely possible. If not in this war, Vangelis was likely to die on the battlefield. He had already persisted with such luck in all things military, he could only surmise that he had been permitted to live this long because the Gods held him in good favour. As soon as they decided that he was of more use in the Underworld than in the realm of the living, he was sure that @ares would no longer hold him in the palm of his safe hand. Instead, he would be relegated to the bloodied fields of his soldiers and find himself meeting the ferryman alongside them.
The idea that his child would grow up without knowing him was a very real possibility. And Tythra urged him to ensure that it did not happen.
Unable to promise such a thing but not wishing to show disrespect by discarding the concerns altogether, Vangelis simply nodded, his expression serious.
"I shall do what I can, aunt." He promised her. This was the only vow that he was truly able to stand by.
And then, in the blink of an eye and the wave of Tythra's hand, the subject was changed and turned to topics of more positive implication. She spoke of a future beyond the war and suggested the idea of his future 'bundle of joy' was a hope he should hold within him.
In truth, however, Vangelis had not really permitted himself to think along the lines of real fatherhood. He knew of Thea being with child, of course, he knew what it would mean to have an heir or a child. He knew that he would have to marry her. What he had not been able to fathom or think ahead to was the very real human being that would come out of this at the end of it. The life that had been created and the physical child that would be his to nurture and raise. With war on his doorstep... it had just been easier for his mind to focus on the issues at hand, not the future that stretched out before him. He had ensured that Thea was safe and cared for, had arranged for his wartime preparations so he had every chance of coming back, had set his mother to the task of weddings and ceremonies upon his return and removed Selene from the situation at hand. Beyond that... his mind had not braved to go.
And it wasn't able to now.
As if his head was foggy or his concept of children was beyond him, he could not envision would it would mean to see Thea holding a babe with his hair and eyes. He could not picture himself as a father, cradling the child in his arms. He could picture the future child of Evras and Zanon. Could see himself as an awkward uncle as he had been with Dion. But a father...? Suddenly, the images became cloudy and he simply couldn't recreate the notion into pictures in his head. It just wasn't an eventuality that he knew how to reconcile himself to.
Not wanting to blurt out such doubts or misconceptions to his aunt, Vangelis' lips pulled into a little tight smile and he nodded in thanks for her words of good intention. For she was at least right about one thing - that happy thoughts were often proved useful in ensuring men came back from war.
Vangelis just wasn't sure what to do with his own if they continued to be too blurry a hope to hold onto.
And it was this thought that struck him the hardest, in the very centre of his chest, as he escorted his aunt back to the Drakos manor before attending to his own home...