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As Lesley walked Princess Emilia through oddly quiet streets, he felt as keyed up and alert as he did before any fight in the arena. The brief scuffle in the central Plateía - well, the scuffle he'd only briefly been involved in, for all he knew it was still going on - had been nothing but a warm-up to get his blood up, and while he was glad the mob he'd set the match to under the excuse of protecting the princess was churning elsewhere, it felt a bit surreal to not hear any sounds of combat when his instincts were on such high alert.
"I don't need to tell you that Elias would be very upset if he found you were looking for your sister, my lady," the bodyguard murmured quietly as they walked. "And you don't need to tell me how much you want to. So, you will be very distraught over both today's unexpected violence and the shock of seeing someone who very much looks like her when you are more than moderately certain she is dead, and we will go to the temple so that you can pray and calm your heart, while my lord goes and does whatever he is going to do about this whole mess - hopefully sober up, but we'll leave it to his mother to comment on that score." He wrinkled his nose and half winked at her. "And that is all he needs to know - what say you?"
And if she said no, he could tell Circenia that he'd tempted her and she'd proven her loyalty, and stay on her good side even if she ratted him out to Elias for the suggestion. Not that that was likely. Emilia was too soft to deliberately get someone she liked into trouble.
Outside the temple, he found one of the beggar-children who looked like the sort who'd rather earn their charity, scrubbed face and hopeful look, and offered her the chance. "I have a message for Hector of Arcana. I want it left with the White Shields, but if he is not there, do your best to find him. It is this: Riana's son Lesley can deliver the embroidery he ordered, as long as he gets a message back quickly, otherwise he will have to go pick his purchases up himself." He held up a coin. "This for your promise to get the message to the White Shields. He'll give you the same if you get the message to him personally. And then I'll pay you again if you can come back within the hour and tell me where he wants to meet. What say you?"
In answer, the urchin quickly repeated the message back word-for-word, grabbed the coin, and ran off. On it's own, the payment wasn't enough to rouse suspicion, but the opportunity to triple it was clearly motivation. Not to mention the possibility that a quick-witted youth could easily seize on, that impressing a merchant's son willing to pay to outsource the running-around his parents asked of him might lead to more work later.
Lesley chuckled silently, amused by the similarities and differences to himself at that age. Then he rolled his shoulders unconsciously and brought his mind back to the present. For his second message, he needed to find a priest - a written note handed servant to servant and eventually simply left on Elias's desk was likely enough not to be seen immediately.
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As Lesley walked Princess Emilia through oddly quiet streets, he felt as keyed up and alert as he did before any fight in the arena. The brief scuffle in the central Plateía - well, the scuffle he'd only briefly been involved in, for all he knew it was still going on - had been nothing but a warm-up to get his blood up, and while he was glad the mob he'd set the match to under the excuse of protecting the princess was churning elsewhere, it felt a bit surreal to not hear any sounds of combat when his instincts were on such high alert.
"I don't need to tell you that Elias would be very upset if he found you were looking for your sister, my lady," the bodyguard murmured quietly as they walked. "And you don't need to tell me how much you want to. So, you will be very distraught over both today's unexpected violence and the shock of seeing someone who very much looks like her when you are more than moderately certain she is dead, and we will go to the temple so that you can pray and calm your heart, while my lord goes and does whatever he is going to do about this whole mess - hopefully sober up, but we'll leave it to his mother to comment on that score." He wrinkled his nose and half winked at her. "And that is all he needs to know - what say you?"
And if she said no, he could tell Circenia that he'd tempted her and she'd proven her loyalty, and stay on her good side even if she ratted him out to Elias for the suggestion. Not that that was likely. Emilia was too soft to deliberately get someone she liked into trouble.
Outside the temple, he found one of the beggar-children who looked like the sort who'd rather earn their charity, scrubbed face and hopeful look, and offered her the chance. "I have a message for Hector of Arcana. I want it left with the White Shields, but if he is not there, do your best to find him. It is this: Riana's son Lesley can deliver the embroidery he ordered, as long as he gets a message back quickly, otherwise he will have to go pick his purchases up himself." He held up a coin. "This for your promise to get the message to the White Shields. He'll give you the same if you get the message to him personally. And then I'll pay you again if you can come back within the hour and tell me where he wants to meet. What say you?"
In answer, the urchin quickly repeated the message back word-for-word, grabbed the coin, and ran off. On it's own, the payment wasn't enough to rouse suspicion, but the opportunity to triple it was clearly motivation. Not to mention the possibility that a quick-witted youth could easily seize on, that impressing a merchant's son willing to pay to outsource the running-around his parents asked of him might lead to more work later.
Lesley chuckled silently, amused by the similarities and differences to himself at that age. Then he rolled his shoulders unconsciously and brought his mind back to the present. For his second message, he needed to find a priest - a written note handed servant to servant and eventually simply left on Elias's desk was likely enough not to be seen immediately.
As Lesley walked Princess Emilia through oddly quiet streets, he felt as keyed up and alert as he did before any fight in the arena. The brief scuffle in the central Plateía - well, the scuffle he'd only briefly been involved in, for all he knew it was still going on - had been nothing but a warm-up to get his blood up, and while he was glad the mob he'd set the match to under the excuse of protecting the princess was churning elsewhere, it felt a bit surreal to not hear any sounds of combat when his instincts were on such high alert.
"I don't need to tell you that Elias would be very upset if he found you were looking for your sister, my lady," the bodyguard murmured quietly as they walked. "And you don't need to tell me how much you want to. So, you will be very distraught over both today's unexpected violence and the shock of seeing someone who very much looks like her when you are more than moderately certain she is dead, and we will go to the temple so that you can pray and calm your heart, while my lord goes and does whatever he is going to do about this whole mess - hopefully sober up, but we'll leave it to his mother to comment on that score." He wrinkled his nose and half winked at her. "And that is all he needs to know - what say you?"
And if she said no, he could tell Circenia that he'd tempted her and she'd proven her loyalty, and stay on her good side even if she ratted him out to Elias for the suggestion. Not that that was likely. Emilia was too soft to deliberately get someone she liked into trouble.
Outside the temple, he found one of the beggar-children who looked like the sort who'd rather earn their charity, scrubbed face and hopeful look, and offered her the chance. "I have a message for Hector of Arcana. I want it left with the White Shields, but if he is not there, do your best to find him. It is this: Riana's son Lesley can deliver the embroidery he ordered, as long as he gets a message back quickly, otherwise he will have to go pick his purchases up himself." He held up a coin. "This for your promise to get the message to the White Shields. He'll give you the same if you get the message to him personally. And then I'll pay you again if you can come back within the hour and tell me where he wants to meet. What say you?"
In answer, the urchin quickly repeated the message back word-for-word, grabbed the coin, and ran off. On it's own, the payment wasn't enough to rouse suspicion, but the opportunity to triple it was clearly motivation. Not to mention the possibility that a quick-witted youth could easily seize on, that impressing a merchant's son willing to pay to outsource the running-around his parents asked of him might lead to more work later.
Lesley chuckled silently, amused by the similarities and differences to himself at that age. Then he rolled his shoulders unconsciously and brought his mind back to the present. For his second message, he needed to find a priest - a written note handed servant to servant and eventually simply left on Elias's desk was likely enough not to be seen immediately.
She felt a myriad of emotions within her, all warring within each other. Should she hope? She had all but given up hope, and with Lesley being the realist that he was, it was no surprise at all that his next immediate words were to remind her of the harsh reality that was to come. Of course Elias would be upset if he thought she was looking for her sister. Persephone was dead, was she not? It was as if her bodyguard could read her like a book, and while that wasn't usually hard for someone of Emilia's ilk, considering she wore her heart on her sleeve, she hadn't met many as blunt and unafraid of insulting a princess as Lesley was.
Then again, not many of them knew Emilia like Lesley did either, that Emilia would rarely get angry or be irritated over someone. Her heart was far too soft and kind for that, and at most she merely gave Lesley a disgruntled sideways looka s she nodded, trudging along with him towards the Naos.
Being within the halls of the Gods had always calmed her. She did not remember much, but Emilia's clearest memory of Lucille had been her mother bringing her here when she had probably not been older then three or four, and telling her the tales of the Gods and how they would protect them, as long as Emilia was devout to them. And she was - she would visit every week, and even had a little altar to Aphrodite set up in the palati so she could offer her thanks to the Goddess everyday.
Her eyes briefly slid to the beggar children, and while she raised a brow when she heard the name, Emilia remembered Lesley asking her awhile back on Hector and whether or not she knew the man.
Briefly, Emilia did. She remembered the captain of her sister's province, and him being a kind, albeit tired-looking man. He provided a sense of comfort back then, even when Emilia did not know him all that well, and she was curious as to why Hector wanted to see her. As such, she had allowed Lesley to summon Hector- she was just surprised Lesley was doing it now, when they had just gotten out of a hairy situation from the festivities.
Still, she trusted his judgement.He may not be the most politically savvy, but he did have some knowledge in the ins and outs of the people, so she merely waited as he finished with the young urchin, as she smiled in thanks to a young girl who passed her a damp piece of rag. Using it to wipe off the remnants of the sticky fruit that had been thrown in her, she dabbed the best she could at her chiton, but surmised the material to be all but lost as she eventually took a seat by a marble column, waiting till Lesley finished before beckoning him over, frowning as she finally got to peruse his face. "Oh, you're injured." she murmured finally, frowning as she saw a growing bruise from where he had taken a punch due to having to watch over her. Guilt quickly suffused over her face as the young princess reached over and brushed her knuckles over the bruising skin, and winced. "I'm sorry."
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She felt a myriad of emotions within her, all warring within each other. Should she hope? She had all but given up hope, and with Lesley being the realist that he was, it was no surprise at all that his next immediate words were to remind her of the harsh reality that was to come. Of course Elias would be upset if he thought she was looking for her sister. Persephone was dead, was she not? It was as if her bodyguard could read her like a book, and while that wasn't usually hard for someone of Emilia's ilk, considering she wore her heart on her sleeve, she hadn't met many as blunt and unafraid of insulting a princess as Lesley was.
Then again, not many of them knew Emilia like Lesley did either, that Emilia would rarely get angry or be irritated over someone. Her heart was far too soft and kind for that, and at most she merely gave Lesley a disgruntled sideways looka s she nodded, trudging along with him towards the Naos.
Being within the halls of the Gods had always calmed her. She did not remember much, but Emilia's clearest memory of Lucille had been her mother bringing her here when she had probably not been older then three or four, and telling her the tales of the Gods and how they would protect them, as long as Emilia was devout to them. And she was - she would visit every week, and even had a little altar to Aphrodite set up in the palati so she could offer her thanks to the Goddess everyday.
Her eyes briefly slid to the beggar children, and while she raised a brow when she heard the name, Emilia remembered Lesley asking her awhile back on Hector and whether or not she knew the man.
Briefly, Emilia did. She remembered the captain of her sister's province, and him being a kind, albeit tired-looking man. He provided a sense of comfort back then, even when Emilia did not know him all that well, and she was curious as to why Hector wanted to see her. As such, she had allowed Lesley to summon Hector- she was just surprised Lesley was doing it now, when they had just gotten out of a hairy situation from the festivities.
Still, she trusted his judgement.He may not be the most politically savvy, but he did have some knowledge in the ins and outs of the people, so she merely waited as he finished with the young urchin, as she smiled in thanks to a young girl who passed her a damp piece of rag. Using it to wipe off the remnants of the sticky fruit that had been thrown in her, she dabbed the best she could at her chiton, but surmised the material to be all but lost as she eventually took a seat by a marble column, waiting till Lesley finished before beckoning him over, frowning as she finally got to peruse his face. "Oh, you're injured." she murmured finally, frowning as she saw a growing bruise from where he had taken a punch due to having to watch over her. Guilt quickly suffused over her face as the young princess reached over and brushed her knuckles over the bruising skin, and winced. "I'm sorry."
She felt a myriad of emotions within her, all warring within each other. Should she hope? She had all but given up hope, and with Lesley being the realist that he was, it was no surprise at all that his next immediate words were to remind her of the harsh reality that was to come. Of course Elias would be upset if he thought she was looking for her sister. Persephone was dead, was she not? It was as if her bodyguard could read her like a book, and while that wasn't usually hard for someone of Emilia's ilk, considering she wore her heart on her sleeve, she hadn't met many as blunt and unafraid of insulting a princess as Lesley was.
Then again, not many of them knew Emilia like Lesley did either, that Emilia would rarely get angry or be irritated over someone. Her heart was far too soft and kind for that, and at most she merely gave Lesley a disgruntled sideways looka s she nodded, trudging along with him towards the Naos.
Being within the halls of the Gods had always calmed her. She did not remember much, but Emilia's clearest memory of Lucille had been her mother bringing her here when she had probably not been older then three or four, and telling her the tales of the Gods and how they would protect them, as long as Emilia was devout to them. And she was - she would visit every week, and even had a little altar to Aphrodite set up in the palati so she could offer her thanks to the Goddess everyday.
Her eyes briefly slid to the beggar children, and while she raised a brow when she heard the name, Emilia remembered Lesley asking her awhile back on Hector and whether or not she knew the man.
Briefly, Emilia did. She remembered the captain of her sister's province, and him being a kind, albeit tired-looking man. He provided a sense of comfort back then, even when Emilia did not know him all that well, and she was curious as to why Hector wanted to see her. As such, she had allowed Lesley to summon Hector- she was just surprised Lesley was doing it now, when they had just gotten out of a hairy situation from the festivities.
Still, she trusted his judgement.He may not be the most politically savvy, but he did have some knowledge in the ins and outs of the people, so she merely waited as he finished with the young urchin, as she smiled in thanks to a young girl who passed her a damp piece of rag. Using it to wipe off the remnants of the sticky fruit that had been thrown in her, she dabbed the best she could at her chiton, but surmised the material to be all but lost as she eventually took a seat by a marble column, waiting till Lesley finished before beckoning him over, frowning as she finally got to peruse his face. "Oh, you're injured." she murmured finally, frowning as she saw a growing bruise from where he had taken a punch due to having to watch over her. Guilt quickly suffused over her face as the young princess reached over and brushed her knuckles over the bruising skin, and winced. "I'm sorry."
The gladiator snorted as Emilia apologized. "It happens." Then he chuckled, amusement dancing around his mouth and eyes. "You would care about the one on my face." Honestly, he'd gotten hurt worse in a warm-up fight. Gladiators - at least the ones who could stand being friends with Lesley - played rough.
The part of Lesley's mind that enjoyed sewing as much chaos in his wake as possible strongly considered kissing her. The part of his mind that was aware he was about to get in a fight with the Stravoses - one he sincerely hoped they didn't realize they were in - knew better than to draw attention to himself like that.
Gods above, but he loved attention.
He settled for giving her hand a gentle squeeze as he removed it from his face. He could drop hints, but his employer had made it clear she expected him to be discreet. A public scandal could serve as a loud distraction from... something, but starting your distraction before the rest of the plan was in place got you killed, and right now, Lesley didn't have a goal, let alone a plan.
"Take your time to pray, my lady. I will handle the rest."
He turned away to speak to a priestess, to ask for clean water to wash his scrapes, and writing supplies. There was no sense sending a verbal message to the princess with anyone other than one of the servants from the palati, or her own, when a note could be handed from one servant to another without risking the message either getting garbled or rumors starting. And Circena was the one paying him, after all.
He sat down cross-legged with the supplies he'd been given, and considered his words carefully. "If I told your aunt that you were quite disappointed at my lord's level of inebriation, would you say that was true?"
Nothing flowery, he decided, despite that being how he'd been taught; his early lessons had not been tailored to someone of his station. He was a merchant's son who knew his manners, not a courtier, and 'correct' or not, he did not care to look like he was putting on airs.
Especially when he hadn't written anything except the occasional line in a ledger in years. He had an artist's deft stroke with a pen, and was taking care, but the result was nonetheless not free of errors. He squinted at the result. Not the quality of penmanship one could expect from a court scribe or a scholar, but he could get a job as the sort of scribe who wrote down letters for the less-educated common folk, he decided. Good enough.
When the ink was dry, he folded it up and found someone to take it to the palati, with instructions to hand it to a servant to see that Princess Circenia got it. He had no idea whether she had retreated there or to her own home, but he reckoned that if she was in a frenzy of worry about the princess, she would be where she expected him to bring his young charge, so that seemed the best place to try first.
That done, he took a moment to asses his injuries and wash out wherever the skin had split. Nothing that needed stitches, since the peasants hadn't had real weapons, but they'd taken to throwing worse than fruit at the soldiers, and at least one of the men who'd kicked him in the shins had had wooden soles on his sandals. The cold water started that one bleeding again, and he let it for a moment before wadding up the damp cloth and pressing down on it with a sigh. "Why is it," he grumbled, "That scrapes are more irritating than real cuts?"
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The gladiator snorted as Emilia apologized. "It happens." Then he chuckled, amusement dancing around his mouth and eyes. "You would care about the one on my face." Honestly, he'd gotten hurt worse in a warm-up fight. Gladiators - at least the ones who could stand being friends with Lesley - played rough.
The part of Lesley's mind that enjoyed sewing as much chaos in his wake as possible strongly considered kissing her. The part of his mind that was aware he was about to get in a fight with the Stravoses - one he sincerely hoped they didn't realize they were in - knew better than to draw attention to himself like that.
Gods above, but he loved attention.
He settled for giving her hand a gentle squeeze as he removed it from his face. He could drop hints, but his employer had made it clear she expected him to be discreet. A public scandal could serve as a loud distraction from... something, but starting your distraction before the rest of the plan was in place got you killed, and right now, Lesley didn't have a goal, let alone a plan.
"Take your time to pray, my lady. I will handle the rest."
He turned away to speak to a priestess, to ask for clean water to wash his scrapes, and writing supplies. There was no sense sending a verbal message to the princess with anyone other than one of the servants from the palati, or her own, when a note could be handed from one servant to another without risking the message either getting garbled or rumors starting. And Circena was the one paying him, after all.
He sat down cross-legged with the supplies he'd been given, and considered his words carefully. "If I told your aunt that you were quite disappointed at my lord's level of inebriation, would you say that was true?"
Nothing flowery, he decided, despite that being how he'd been taught; his early lessons had not been tailored to someone of his station. He was a merchant's son who knew his manners, not a courtier, and 'correct' or not, he did not care to look like he was putting on airs.
Especially when he hadn't written anything except the occasional line in a ledger in years. He had an artist's deft stroke with a pen, and was taking care, but the result was nonetheless not free of errors. He squinted at the result. Not the quality of penmanship one could expect from a court scribe or a scholar, but he could get a job as the sort of scribe who wrote down letters for the less-educated common folk, he decided. Good enough.
When the ink was dry, he folded it up and found someone to take it to the palati, with instructions to hand it to a servant to see that Princess Circenia got it. He had no idea whether she had retreated there or to her own home, but he reckoned that if she was in a frenzy of worry about the princess, she would be where she expected him to bring his young charge, so that seemed the best place to try first.
That done, he took a moment to asses his injuries and wash out wherever the skin had split. Nothing that needed stitches, since the peasants hadn't had real weapons, but they'd taken to throwing worse than fruit at the soldiers, and at least one of the men who'd kicked him in the shins had had wooden soles on his sandals. The cold water started that one bleeding again, and he let it for a moment before wadding up the damp cloth and pressing down on it with a sigh. "Why is it," he grumbled, "That scrapes are more irritating than real cuts?"
The gladiator snorted as Emilia apologized. "It happens." Then he chuckled, amusement dancing around his mouth and eyes. "You would care about the one on my face." Honestly, he'd gotten hurt worse in a warm-up fight. Gladiators - at least the ones who could stand being friends with Lesley - played rough.
The part of Lesley's mind that enjoyed sewing as much chaos in his wake as possible strongly considered kissing her. The part of his mind that was aware he was about to get in a fight with the Stravoses - one he sincerely hoped they didn't realize they were in - knew better than to draw attention to himself like that.
Gods above, but he loved attention.
He settled for giving her hand a gentle squeeze as he removed it from his face. He could drop hints, but his employer had made it clear she expected him to be discreet. A public scandal could serve as a loud distraction from... something, but starting your distraction before the rest of the plan was in place got you killed, and right now, Lesley didn't have a goal, let alone a plan.
"Take your time to pray, my lady. I will handle the rest."
He turned away to speak to a priestess, to ask for clean water to wash his scrapes, and writing supplies. There was no sense sending a verbal message to the princess with anyone other than one of the servants from the palati, or her own, when a note could be handed from one servant to another without risking the message either getting garbled or rumors starting. And Circena was the one paying him, after all.
He sat down cross-legged with the supplies he'd been given, and considered his words carefully. "If I told your aunt that you were quite disappointed at my lord's level of inebriation, would you say that was true?"
Nothing flowery, he decided, despite that being how he'd been taught; his early lessons had not been tailored to someone of his station. He was a merchant's son who knew his manners, not a courtier, and 'correct' or not, he did not care to look like he was putting on airs.
Especially when he hadn't written anything except the occasional line in a ledger in years. He had an artist's deft stroke with a pen, and was taking care, but the result was nonetheless not free of errors. He squinted at the result. Not the quality of penmanship one could expect from a court scribe or a scholar, but he could get a job as the sort of scribe who wrote down letters for the less-educated common folk, he decided. Good enough.
When the ink was dry, he folded it up and found someone to take it to the palati, with instructions to hand it to a servant to see that Princess Circenia got it. He had no idea whether she had retreated there or to her own home, but he reckoned that if she was in a frenzy of worry about the princess, she would be where she expected him to bring his young charge, so that seemed the best place to try first.
That done, he took a moment to asses his injuries and wash out wherever the skin had split. Nothing that needed stitches, since the peasants hadn't had real weapons, but they'd taken to throwing worse than fruit at the soldiers, and at least one of the men who'd kicked him in the shins had had wooden soles on his sandals. The cold water started that one bleeding again, and he let it for a moment before wadding up the damp cloth and pressing down on it with a sigh. "Why is it," he grumbled, "That scrapes are more irritating than real cuts?"
There was a little flurry in her heart as Lesley squeezed her hand, and Emilia found herself giving him a wry smile. Trust her to have a little crush on her bodyguard. This process was nothing new to Emilia, but the difference now, was that she didn't have a sister to tell her how impossible it was for a princess to be crushing over another bodyguard. Emilia had never been one to care much for status and titles, and could just easily fall head over heels for the stableboy as she could for another prince, so it really was no surprise. Afterall, Lesley had served much as her protector and her companion in the last month, that he was likely the only male other then Elias she's had prolonged contact with.
The funny thing was, Emilia trusted Lesley far more. Something about the gladiator's dry tone and straightforward manner made the brunette believe he wouldn't be lying to her anytime soon.
Watching as he turned to ask for writing supplies, Emilia made to move inside. While she hadn't exactly planned to come to the Naos, since she was here, she may as well throw up yet another prayer to accompany the rest of the ones she's already had, all unanswered. At first, Emilia had prayed for her sister's safety. But as that conclusion grew more and more unlikely, of late Emilia had just begun to pray for the sanctity and restful ease for her father and sister's afterlife, praying that Hades would grant them ease of passage through the Underworld. She had no offerings, so Emilia merely knelt in front of the statues of the Olympians with her hands held tight in prayer in front of her.
By the time the young princess picked up her stained and messy chiton and headed back out into the foyer where she had left Lesley, her hazel eyes fell upon the figure of her bodyguard just as he handed over a parchment. To who, Emilia wasn't sure, but she was rest assured Lesley had it in hand, and merely approached him.
Rolling her eyes behind him as he grumbled, Emilia reached out to pluck the damp cloth on it, swatting his hand away and proceeding to press down slightly harder on the scrape. "Because a million small injuries are just as likely to kill as a large one." she replied wryly, smirking at him as she dipped the cloth in a bucket the priests had left, washing it clean and then pressing it against the wound again, softly but firm enough for it to actually be effective. "What are we here for, Lesley?" she finally asked, eager to know what her bodyguard had planned exactly for her.
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There was a little flurry in her heart as Lesley squeezed her hand, and Emilia found herself giving him a wry smile. Trust her to have a little crush on her bodyguard. This process was nothing new to Emilia, but the difference now, was that she didn't have a sister to tell her how impossible it was for a princess to be crushing over another bodyguard. Emilia had never been one to care much for status and titles, and could just easily fall head over heels for the stableboy as she could for another prince, so it really was no surprise. Afterall, Lesley had served much as her protector and her companion in the last month, that he was likely the only male other then Elias she's had prolonged contact with.
The funny thing was, Emilia trusted Lesley far more. Something about the gladiator's dry tone and straightforward manner made the brunette believe he wouldn't be lying to her anytime soon.
Watching as he turned to ask for writing supplies, Emilia made to move inside. While she hadn't exactly planned to come to the Naos, since she was here, she may as well throw up yet another prayer to accompany the rest of the ones she's already had, all unanswered. At first, Emilia had prayed for her sister's safety. But as that conclusion grew more and more unlikely, of late Emilia had just begun to pray for the sanctity and restful ease for her father and sister's afterlife, praying that Hades would grant them ease of passage through the Underworld. She had no offerings, so Emilia merely knelt in front of the statues of the Olympians with her hands held tight in prayer in front of her.
By the time the young princess picked up her stained and messy chiton and headed back out into the foyer where she had left Lesley, her hazel eyes fell upon the figure of her bodyguard just as he handed over a parchment. To who, Emilia wasn't sure, but she was rest assured Lesley had it in hand, and merely approached him.
Rolling her eyes behind him as he grumbled, Emilia reached out to pluck the damp cloth on it, swatting his hand away and proceeding to press down slightly harder on the scrape. "Because a million small injuries are just as likely to kill as a large one." she replied wryly, smirking at him as she dipped the cloth in a bucket the priests had left, washing it clean and then pressing it against the wound again, softly but firm enough for it to actually be effective. "What are we here for, Lesley?" she finally asked, eager to know what her bodyguard had planned exactly for her.
There was a little flurry in her heart as Lesley squeezed her hand, and Emilia found herself giving him a wry smile. Trust her to have a little crush on her bodyguard. This process was nothing new to Emilia, but the difference now, was that she didn't have a sister to tell her how impossible it was for a princess to be crushing over another bodyguard. Emilia had never been one to care much for status and titles, and could just easily fall head over heels for the stableboy as she could for another prince, so it really was no surprise. Afterall, Lesley had served much as her protector and her companion in the last month, that he was likely the only male other then Elias she's had prolonged contact with.
The funny thing was, Emilia trusted Lesley far more. Something about the gladiator's dry tone and straightforward manner made the brunette believe he wouldn't be lying to her anytime soon.
Watching as he turned to ask for writing supplies, Emilia made to move inside. While she hadn't exactly planned to come to the Naos, since she was here, she may as well throw up yet another prayer to accompany the rest of the ones she's already had, all unanswered. At first, Emilia had prayed for her sister's safety. But as that conclusion grew more and more unlikely, of late Emilia had just begun to pray for the sanctity and restful ease for her father and sister's afterlife, praying that Hades would grant them ease of passage through the Underworld. She had no offerings, so Emilia merely knelt in front of the statues of the Olympians with her hands held tight in prayer in front of her.
By the time the young princess picked up her stained and messy chiton and headed back out into the foyer where she had left Lesley, her hazel eyes fell upon the figure of her bodyguard just as he handed over a parchment. To who, Emilia wasn't sure, but she was rest assured Lesley had it in hand, and merely approached him.
Rolling her eyes behind him as he grumbled, Emilia reached out to pluck the damp cloth on it, swatting his hand away and proceeding to press down slightly harder on the scrape. "Because a million small injuries are just as likely to kill as a large one." she replied wryly, smirking at him as she dipped the cloth in a bucket the priests had left, washing it clean and then pressing it against the wound again, softly but firm enough for it to actually be effective. "What are we here for, Lesley?" she finally asked, eager to know what her bodyguard had planned exactly for her.
He'd known the princess he watched over was kind - he'd taken advantage of it, in fact, though she might not consider it such; he'd appreciated, at least, that he didn't need to be constantly watching himself, knowing that some noble was constantly watching eagerly waiting for him to fuck something up, when it was just the two of them. Still, having her crouched in front of him tending to his wounds - annoyingly minor as they were - was not something he'd expected.
"Um." He pulled his mind back on track. Being tended to was also telling his instincts that the fight was over, and he reminded himself firmly that he was, in effect, between rounds; a chance to catch his breath and think, but no more. "We're here because nobody here cares what we do," he told her. That could be taken a number of ways, which privately amused him, but he wasn't going to mention Persephone out loud - people who were otherwise content to let them loiter in peace would certainly care about that topic - which meant he wasn't going to directly mention what he'd seen. He didn't know if she had noticed... actually. He'd made an assumption, hadn't he.
"The lady you were gossiping with - Ariadne - she is Hector's daughter, isn't she?" There had been just enough family resemblance for him to connect the dots, but sometimes looks could be deceiving, and no doubt the queen had had many friends and attendants - that fact alone was no evidence at all. The other woman - the one Hector had spoken up for when she'd offended the two prince popinjays - he didn't know if she was actually someone he knew. He simply didn't know enough about the man's personality to guess. She'd been far enough away that he hadn't gotten a good look at her, and in a real crowd, height and the colors of hair and outfit weren't a foolproof way of tracking someone. He was guessing a lot, actually - but that had never stopped him. Better a half-baked plan than nothing. Anyway, even if he was wrong about everything - which he never was - well, basically never - well, he hadn't gotten himself killed yet...
What was the worst that could happen, really?
He caught himself grinning, and toned it down to a somewhat restrained chuckle. For people who knew him, really knew him, that grin was a dead giveaway.
"If I might have earned a favour," he suggested quietly, still unable to entirely hide the little-boy excitement, "Let's not let your family find out how utterly terrible I am at following orders, shall we?"
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He'd known the princess he watched over was kind - he'd taken advantage of it, in fact, though she might not consider it such; he'd appreciated, at least, that he didn't need to be constantly watching himself, knowing that some noble was constantly watching eagerly waiting for him to fuck something up, when it was just the two of them. Still, having her crouched in front of him tending to his wounds - annoyingly minor as they were - was not something he'd expected.
"Um." He pulled his mind back on track. Being tended to was also telling his instincts that the fight was over, and he reminded himself firmly that he was, in effect, between rounds; a chance to catch his breath and think, but no more. "We're here because nobody here cares what we do," he told her. That could be taken a number of ways, which privately amused him, but he wasn't going to mention Persephone out loud - people who were otherwise content to let them loiter in peace would certainly care about that topic - which meant he wasn't going to directly mention what he'd seen. He didn't know if she had noticed... actually. He'd made an assumption, hadn't he.
"The lady you were gossiping with - Ariadne - she is Hector's daughter, isn't she?" There had been just enough family resemblance for him to connect the dots, but sometimes looks could be deceiving, and no doubt the queen had had many friends and attendants - that fact alone was no evidence at all. The other woman - the one Hector had spoken up for when she'd offended the two prince popinjays - he didn't know if she was actually someone he knew. He simply didn't know enough about the man's personality to guess. She'd been far enough away that he hadn't gotten a good look at her, and in a real crowd, height and the colors of hair and outfit weren't a foolproof way of tracking someone. He was guessing a lot, actually - but that had never stopped him. Better a half-baked plan than nothing. Anyway, even if he was wrong about everything - which he never was - well, basically never - well, he hadn't gotten himself killed yet...
What was the worst that could happen, really?
He caught himself grinning, and toned it down to a somewhat restrained chuckle. For people who knew him, really knew him, that grin was a dead giveaway.
"If I might have earned a favour," he suggested quietly, still unable to entirely hide the little-boy excitement, "Let's not let your family find out how utterly terrible I am at following orders, shall we?"
He'd known the princess he watched over was kind - he'd taken advantage of it, in fact, though she might not consider it such; he'd appreciated, at least, that he didn't need to be constantly watching himself, knowing that some noble was constantly watching eagerly waiting for him to fuck something up, when it was just the two of them. Still, having her crouched in front of him tending to his wounds - annoyingly minor as they were - was not something he'd expected.
"Um." He pulled his mind back on track. Being tended to was also telling his instincts that the fight was over, and he reminded himself firmly that he was, in effect, between rounds; a chance to catch his breath and think, but no more. "We're here because nobody here cares what we do," he told her. That could be taken a number of ways, which privately amused him, but he wasn't going to mention Persephone out loud - people who were otherwise content to let them loiter in peace would certainly care about that topic - which meant he wasn't going to directly mention what he'd seen. He didn't know if she had noticed... actually. He'd made an assumption, hadn't he.
"The lady you were gossiping with - Ariadne - she is Hector's daughter, isn't she?" There had been just enough family resemblance for him to connect the dots, but sometimes looks could be deceiving, and no doubt the queen had had many friends and attendants - that fact alone was no evidence at all. The other woman - the one Hector had spoken up for when she'd offended the two prince popinjays - he didn't know if she was actually someone he knew. He simply didn't know enough about the man's personality to guess. She'd been far enough away that he hadn't gotten a good look at her, and in a real crowd, height and the colors of hair and outfit weren't a foolproof way of tracking someone. He was guessing a lot, actually - but that had never stopped him. Better a half-baked plan than nothing. Anyway, even if he was wrong about everything - which he never was - well, basically never - well, he hadn't gotten himself killed yet...
What was the worst that could happen, really?
He caught himself grinning, and toned it down to a somewhat restrained chuckle. For people who knew him, really knew him, that grin was a dead giveaway.
"If I might have earned a favour," he suggested quietly, still unable to entirely hide the little-boy excitement, "Let's not let your family find out how utterly terrible I am at following orders, shall we?"
While Emilia was often whispered to be meek, unassuming, vapid and a typical girl who had no leadership bone in her body, she made up for it with a heart kinder then gold, and a quiet compassion for everyone and everything she met. She could never pass an injured or needing soul without thinking of some way to help them, and in a way that was one of the reasons why Minas had kept his youngest daughter so protected, because if he wasn't careful, Emilia would likely give her own limbs away to help someone else.
The need to help Lesley at the sight of his injuries was no foreign feeling to her, and it would've felt far weirder had she just sat by the side without offering assistance. Even if she had never played nurse to someone before, gently cleaning the wounds wasn't something very difficult to achieve, and Emilia gently used the damp cloth on them even as her bodyguard spoke, chuckling at the lightly amused tone of his answer. He did have a point, but the young princess had never thought of it that way before.
Pausing at his sudden question, she wrinkled her brows a little, but nodded. "Yes, it was. One of Hector's daughters." Emilia's frown was perplexed as she tried to recall how long exactly had Lesley been placed on her guard - had it been that quick? - before asking again. "Do you know Hector?" Last she remembered, she hadn't met Hector for a long time, and the last time she had, Persephone had still been around. If her memory served her correctly, Lesley had only been on her guard after Elias or her aunt had hired him, after her last dozen guards had perished in the insurgent attack. Had he met Hector before? It had been a long time since she had seen the Captain guard.
Raising a brow when she caught the grin, Emilia couldn't help but smile despite herself, amused. It was rare for Lesley to show excitement or joy, that much Emilia had known in the last month she had been in his company, so for a moment, the young princess couldn't help but wonder as she finished up cleaning the streaks of dried up blood on his face, and then cocked a head as she peered at him, before laughing.
Family? Her smile faltered at that, but she hid it with a quick (albeit more toned down then usual) chuckle, dipping the cloth in the bucket of now stained, cold water, before proceeding to press the cold wad of cloth on the growing bruise on his face which had faced the fist of an angry commoner. "I don't have much family left, I would say. So that wouldn't be hard." It was rare for Emilia to be so depreciating to herself, but the girl wasn't exactly in normal situations, so she was finding herself caught in melancholy holes far more often then she'd like.
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While Emilia was often whispered to be meek, unassuming, vapid and a typical girl who had no leadership bone in her body, she made up for it with a heart kinder then gold, and a quiet compassion for everyone and everything she met. She could never pass an injured or needing soul without thinking of some way to help them, and in a way that was one of the reasons why Minas had kept his youngest daughter so protected, because if he wasn't careful, Emilia would likely give her own limbs away to help someone else.
The need to help Lesley at the sight of his injuries was no foreign feeling to her, and it would've felt far weirder had she just sat by the side without offering assistance. Even if she had never played nurse to someone before, gently cleaning the wounds wasn't something very difficult to achieve, and Emilia gently used the damp cloth on them even as her bodyguard spoke, chuckling at the lightly amused tone of his answer. He did have a point, but the young princess had never thought of it that way before.
Pausing at his sudden question, she wrinkled her brows a little, but nodded. "Yes, it was. One of Hector's daughters." Emilia's frown was perplexed as she tried to recall how long exactly had Lesley been placed on her guard - had it been that quick? - before asking again. "Do you know Hector?" Last she remembered, she hadn't met Hector for a long time, and the last time she had, Persephone had still been around. If her memory served her correctly, Lesley had only been on her guard after Elias or her aunt had hired him, after her last dozen guards had perished in the insurgent attack. Had he met Hector before? It had been a long time since she had seen the Captain guard.
Raising a brow when she caught the grin, Emilia couldn't help but smile despite herself, amused. It was rare for Lesley to show excitement or joy, that much Emilia had known in the last month she had been in his company, so for a moment, the young princess couldn't help but wonder as she finished up cleaning the streaks of dried up blood on his face, and then cocked a head as she peered at him, before laughing.
Family? Her smile faltered at that, but she hid it with a quick (albeit more toned down then usual) chuckle, dipping the cloth in the bucket of now stained, cold water, before proceeding to press the cold wad of cloth on the growing bruise on his face which had faced the fist of an angry commoner. "I don't have much family left, I would say. So that wouldn't be hard." It was rare for Emilia to be so depreciating to herself, but the girl wasn't exactly in normal situations, so she was finding herself caught in melancholy holes far more often then she'd like.
While Emilia was often whispered to be meek, unassuming, vapid and a typical girl who had no leadership bone in her body, she made up for it with a heart kinder then gold, and a quiet compassion for everyone and everything she met. She could never pass an injured or needing soul without thinking of some way to help them, and in a way that was one of the reasons why Minas had kept his youngest daughter so protected, because if he wasn't careful, Emilia would likely give her own limbs away to help someone else.
The need to help Lesley at the sight of his injuries was no foreign feeling to her, and it would've felt far weirder had she just sat by the side without offering assistance. Even if she had never played nurse to someone before, gently cleaning the wounds wasn't something very difficult to achieve, and Emilia gently used the damp cloth on them even as her bodyguard spoke, chuckling at the lightly amused tone of his answer. He did have a point, but the young princess had never thought of it that way before.
Pausing at his sudden question, she wrinkled her brows a little, but nodded. "Yes, it was. One of Hector's daughters." Emilia's frown was perplexed as she tried to recall how long exactly had Lesley been placed on her guard - had it been that quick? - before asking again. "Do you know Hector?" Last she remembered, she hadn't met Hector for a long time, and the last time she had, Persephone had still been around. If her memory served her correctly, Lesley had only been on her guard after Elias or her aunt had hired him, after her last dozen guards had perished in the insurgent attack. Had he met Hector before? It had been a long time since she had seen the Captain guard.
Raising a brow when she caught the grin, Emilia couldn't help but smile despite herself, amused. It was rare for Lesley to show excitement or joy, that much Emilia had known in the last month she had been in his company, so for a moment, the young princess couldn't help but wonder as she finished up cleaning the streaks of dried up blood on his face, and then cocked a head as she peered at him, before laughing.
Family? Her smile faltered at that, but she hid it with a quick (albeit more toned down then usual) chuckle, dipping the cloth in the bucket of now stained, cold water, before proceeding to press the cold wad of cloth on the growing bruise on his face which had faced the fist of an angry commoner. "I don't have much family left, I would say. So that wouldn't be hard." It was rare for Emilia to be so depreciating to herself, but the girl wasn't exactly in normal situations, so she was finding herself caught in melancholy holes far more often then she'd like.
Irritation and action shared a border in Hector's mind, a useful trait for a militant who had seen war in Lands Afar. He had hoped to never feel such a way on his home soil, but as they made their way out of the fray of the failed Harvest Festival, he could start to think straight.
The Captain had a habit of continually counting their number, much as he did when on the field of battle. It was enough of a habit by now that it did not occupy much of his mind, apart from the fact that as they made their way to the docks, one of their number was missing.
Ariadne.
It had a been a slow, frustrating slog to get the wasted nobleman back to his ship, along with Demi, Hero, and Ismene. No sooner had he arrived there did he immediately declared to Demi that he was going back to find Ariadne. The conversation devolved, as it tended to in moments like this when he was wound tighter than a bowstring. Demi made fair points - particularly that if Queen Persephone was back, then his daughter's loyalty and self-proclaimed purpose would allow nothing to stand in her way when it came to finding the elusive royal.
Instead of a normal response to the point - a point he deep down knew was the most likely option - Hector stormed off the ship to return back to the scene, under the argument that she could be injured or arrested in all the chaos.
No sooner had his feet landed on the sand at the end of the fingerpier did he catch the calling of his name by a street urchin. It did not take long for him to deliver his message - and it could have knocked the Captain over with a feather.
After a brief argument with the messenger, he convinced the lad to lead him to where the sender could be found, and he followed the child through the streets, his mind preoccupied by the fact that any trail to follow Ariadne would grow colder. With each step, he tried to convince himself that it would be alright.
Approaching the Temples, Hector glanced around, eyeing how quiet it was within. As he approached, he saw the only other living souls before them in the foyer, recognizing them both immediately.
Seeing the gladiator, he felt a surge of gratitude and was quite honestly impressed. How long had it been since they met in the Loutra? It was even before the murder within. Had it only been a couple weeks since then? He was impressed the man remembered his request and followed through on it. Even after all these years, he had men within his ranks who could hardly manage to impress him in such a way.
Then, there was Princess Emilia.
While Hector was by no means 'close' with either of the Xanthos royals, he found himself far more familiar Persephone, given her proximity with Ariadne. Yet, his mind immediately shot back to the raging storm that struck Athenia two years ago, helping return her to the safety of the Palace.
She was only just barely younger than his daughters, yet the look of her made her seem even younger now. Yet, he also noted curiously how she tended to the gladiator's arm.
The messenger boy immediately made his way for the gladiator, announcing that he found the White Shield man and extending out his hand willingly for his coin. Hector could not help but snort.
"Now is as good a time as any, given the circumstances," Hector added, following up the boy's words. Unable to keep himself from assessing the sight of them, particularly noting the remnants of fruit that clung to Emilia's face Hector's brows shifted in unconscious fatherly concern and he asked, "Are you alright?"
The question was meant for both of them, but he focused mostly on the princess. She looked shaken and concerned, then again, each time that he was around her, she seemed to have that look - he was wondering if that was just how she looked at this rate, but still, he could not help the attempt to break the tension. "I look forward to the day our paths cross without being in the wake of utter chaos, Princess."
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Irritation and action shared a border in Hector's mind, a useful trait for a militant who had seen war in Lands Afar. He had hoped to never feel such a way on his home soil, but as they made their way out of the fray of the failed Harvest Festival, he could start to think straight.
The Captain had a habit of continually counting their number, much as he did when on the field of battle. It was enough of a habit by now that it did not occupy much of his mind, apart from the fact that as they made their way to the docks, one of their number was missing.
Ariadne.
It had a been a slow, frustrating slog to get the wasted nobleman back to his ship, along with Demi, Hero, and Ismene. No sooner had he arrived there did he immediately declared to Demi that he was going back to find Ariadne. The conversation devolved, as it tended to in moments like this when he was wound tighter than a bowstring. Demi made fair points - particularly that if Queen Persephone was back, then his daughter's loyalty and self-proclaimed purpose would allow nothing to stand in her way when it came to finding the elusive royal.
Instead of a normal response to the point - a point he deep down knew was the most likely option - Hector stormed off the ship to return back to the scene, under the argument that she could be injured or arrested in all the chaos.
No sooner had his feet landed on the sand at the end of the fingerpier did he catch the calling of his name by a street urchin. It did not take long for him to deliver his message - and it could have knocked the Captain over with a feather.
After a brief argument with the messenger, he convinced the lad to lead him to where the sender could be found, and he followed the child through the streets, his mind preoccupied by the fact that any trail to follow Ariadne would grow colder. With each step, he tried to convince himself that it would be alright.
Approaching the Temples, Hector glanced around, eyeing how quiet it was within. As he approached, he saw the only other living souls before them in the foyer, recognizing them both immediately.
Seeing the gladiator, he felt a surge of gratitude and was quite honestly impressed. How long had it been since they met in the Loutra? It was even before the murder within. Had it only been a couple weeks since then? He was impressed the man remembered his request and followed through on it. Even after all these years, he had men within his ranks who could hardly manage to impress him in such a way.
Then, there was Princess Emilia.
While Hector was by no means 'close' with either of the Xanthos royals, he found himself far more familiar Persephone, given her proximity with Ariadne. Yet, his mind immediately shot back to the raging storm that struck Athenia two years ago, helping return her to the safety of the Palace.
She was only just barely younger than his daughters, yet the look of her made her seem even younger now. Yet, he also noted curiously how she tended to the gladiator's arm.
The messenger boy immediately made his way for the gladiator, announcing that he found the White Shield man and extending out his hand willingly for his coin. Hector could not help but snort.
"Now is as good a time as any, given the circumstances," Hector added, following up the boy's words. Unable to keep himself from assessing the sight of them, particularly noting the remnants of fruit that clung to Emilia's face Hector's brows shifted in unconscious fatherly concern and he asked, "Are you alright?"
The question was meant for both of them, but he focused mostly on the princess. She looked shaken and concerned, then again, each time that he was around her, she seemed to have that look - he was wondering if that was just how she looked at this rate, but still, he could not help the attempt to break the tension. "I look forward to the day our paths cross without being in the wake of utter chaos, Princess."
Irritation and action shared a border in Hector's mind, a useful trait for a militant who had seen war in Lands Afar. He had hoped to never feel such a way on his home soil, but as they made their way out of the fray of the failed Harvest Festival, he could start to think straight.
The Captain had a habit of continually counting their number, much as he did when on the field of battle. It was enough of a habit by now that it did not occupy much of his mind, apart from the fact that as they made their way to the docks, one of their number was missing.
Ariadne.
It had a been a slow, frustrating slog to get the wasted nobleman back to his ship, along with Demi, Hero, and Ismene. No sooner had he arrived there did he immediately declared to Demi that he was going back to find Ariadne. The conversation devolved, as it tended to in moments like this when he was wound tighter than a bowstring. Demi made fair points - particularly that if Queen Persephone was back, then his daughter's loyalty and self-proclaimed purpose would allow nothing to stand in her way when it came to finding the elusive royal.
Instead of a normal response to the point - a point he deep down knew was the most likely option - Hector stormed off the ship to return back to the scene, under the argument that she could be injured or arrested in all the chaos.
No sooner had his feet landed on the sand at the end of the fingerpier did he catch the calling of his name by a street urchin. It did not take long for him to deliver his message - and it could have knocked the Captain over with a feather.
After a brief argument with the messenger, he convinced the lad to lead him to where the sender could be found, and he followed the child through the streets, his mind preoccupied by the fact that any trail to follow Ariadne would grow colder. With each step, he tried to convince himself that it would be alright.
Approaching the Temples, Hector glanced around, eyeing how quiet it was within. As he approached, he saw the only other living souls before them in the foyer, recognizing them both immediately.
Seeing the gladiator, he felt a surge of gratitude and was quite honestly impressed. How long had it been since they met in the Loutra? It was even before the murder within. Had it only been a couple weeks since then? He was impressed the man remembered his request and followed through on it. Even after all these years, he had men within his ranks who could hardly manage to impress him in such a way.
Then, there was Princess Emilia.
While Hector was by no means 'close' with either of the Xanthos royals, he found himself far more familiar Persephone, given her proximity with Ariadne. Yet, his mind immediately shot back to the raging storm that struck Athenia two years ago, helping return her to the safety of the Palace.
She was only just barely younger than his daughters, yet the look of her made her seem even younger now. Yet, he also noted curiously how she tended to the gladiator's arm.
The messenger boy immediately made his way for the gladiator, announcing that he found the White Shield man and extending out his hand willingly for his coin. Hector could not help but snort.
"Now is as good a time as any, given the circumstances," Hector added, following up the boy's words. Unable to keep himself from assessing the sight of them, particularly noting the remnants of fruit that clung to Emilia's face Hector's brows shifted in unconscious fatherly concern and he asked, "Are you alright?"
The question was meant for both of them, but he focused mostly on the princess. She looked shaken and concerned, then again, each time that he was around her, she seemed to have that look - he was wondering if that was just how she looked at this rate, but still, he could not help the attempt to break the tension. "I look forward to the day our paths cross without being in the wake of utter chaos, Princess."
The question as to whether he knew Hector earned a thoughtful noise and and absentminded, "Not well." He'd met him, and he'd done a tiny little bit of snooping, but essentially, no, he didn't know the man. Yet something prevented him from admitting he was guessing his course of action entirely blindly.
At the depressed mention of the lack of family, Lesley's own smile vanished, though his tone was still lightly teasing. "I think you know who I meant." Soft brown eyes met hers; Lesley didn't often feel sympathy, but it was more likely to manifest over emotional pain than physical. "I am sorr-" the end of the word trailed off as someone entering caught his eye, and he stood up smoothly, relaxing halfway through the movement as he recognized his young messenger and Hector.
He snorted at the demand for payment, but the twitch of his lips betrayed his amusement. "Fair enough." He dropped a coin into the waiting hand, and turned his attention back to the guard captain. "Shall we walk down to the shop together then?"
His expression became a good deal more serious as the boy left, crossing his arms as he waited for Emilia to answer the concerned question posed to her.
"The Queen was at the festival today," he stated quietly with no hesitation. "You are the Captain of the White Shields of Arcana, and your daughter Ariadne and another I saw in your company both left the Plateía with Her Majesty. If you do not know where she is at this moment, you know where to find her." This was a stark difference from the cautious feeling-out Lesley had displayed that night in the Loutra; when the gladiator decided to make his move, he did so decisively and fully committed. "Princess Emilia now calls on your loyalty to the Dynasteía Xanthos to reunite her with her sister." And no bullshit or trying to cover your own ass, his expression added. Not that he expected either. He might barely know anything about Hector, but adding together what he had learned with his first impression of the man, and he was ready to bet his life on someone else's loyalty.
As for his own loyalty? That was a rather more complicated subject. Hector might look forward to a reprieve from chaos, but Lesley was in his element.
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The question as to whether he knew Hector earned a thoughtful noise and and absentminded, "Not well." He'd met him, and he'd done a tiny little bit of snooping, but essentially, no, he didn't know the man. Yet something prevented him from admitting he was guessing his course of action entirely blindly.
At the depressed mention of the lack of family, Lesley's own smile vanished, though his tone was still lightly teasing. "I think you know who I meant." Soft brown eyes met hers; Lesley didn't often feel sympathy, but it was more likely to manifest over emotional pain than physical. "I am sorr-" the end of the word trailed off as someone entering caught his eye, and he stood up smoothly, relaxing halfway through the movement as he recognized his young messenger and Hector.
He snorted at the demand for payment, but the twitch of his lips betrayed his amusement. "Fair enough." He dropped a coin into the waiting hand, and turned his attention back to the guard captain. "Shall we walk down to the shop together then?"
His expression became a good deal more serious as the boy left, crossing his arms as he waited for Emilia to answer the concerned question posed to her.
"The Queen was at the festival today," he stated quietly with no hesitation. "You are the Captain of the White Shields of Arcana, and your daughter Ariadne and another I saw in your company both left the Plateía with Her Majesty. If you do not know where she is at this moment, you know where to find her." This was a stark difference from the cautious feeling-out Lesley had displayed that night in the Loutra; when the gladiator decided to make his move, he did so decisively and fully committed. "Princess Emilia now calls on your loyalty to the Dynasteía Xanthos to reunite her with her sister." And no bullshit or trying to cover your own ass, his expression added. Not that he expected either. He might barely know anything about Hector, but adding together what he had learned with his first impression of the man, and he was ready to bet his life on someone else's loyalty.
As for his own loyalty? That was a rather more complicated subject. Hector might look forward to a reprieve from chaos, but Lesley was in his element.
The question as to whether he knew Hector earned a thoughtful noise and and absentminded, "Not well." He'd met him, and he'd done a tiny little bit of snooping, but essentially, no, he didn't know the man. Yet something prevented him from admitting he was guessing his course of action entirely blindly.
At the depressed mention of the lack of family, Lesley's own smile vanished, though his tone was still lightly teasing. "I think you know who I meant." Soft brown eyes met hers; Lesley didn't often feel sympathy, but it was more likely to manifest over emotional pain than physical. "I am sorr-" the end of the word trailed off as someone entering caught his eye, and he stood up smoothly, relaxing halfway through the movement as he recognized his young messenger and Hector.
He snorted at the demand for payment, but the twitch of his lips betrayed his amusement. "Fair enough." He dropped a coin into the waiting hand, and turned his attention back to the guard captain. "Shall we walk down to the shop together then?"
His expression became a good deal more serious as the boy left, crossing his arms as he waited for Emilia to answer the concerned question posed to her.
"The Queen was at the festival today," he stated quietly with no hesitation. "You are the Captain of the White Shields of Arcana, and your daughter Ariadne and another I saw in your company both left the Plateía with Her Majesty. If you do not know where she is at this moment, you know where to find her." This was a stark difference from the cautious feeling-out Lesley had displayed that night in the Loutra; when the gladiator decided to make his move, he did so decisively and fully committed. "Princess Emilia now calls on your loyalty to the Dynasteía Xanthos to reunite her with her sister." And no bullshit or trying to cover your own ass, his expression added. Not that he expected either. He might barely know anything about Hector, but adding together what he had learned with his first impression of the man, and he was ready to bet his life on someone else's loyalty.
As for his own loyalty? That was a rather more complicated subject. Hector might look forward to a reprieve from chaos, but Lesley was in his element.
In honesty, Emilia really didn't have much family left, and Lesley knew that. But unlike what her bodyguard though, she wasn't saying such things to be wallowing in her own misery. Emilia was just turning into a realist who didn't see why she should or wanted to continue lying to herself that everything was alright when it obviously wasn't. She was perpetually caught at crossroads, with so much uncertainty on a day to day basis she wasn't even sure she wanted to plan for the future, or in so much as a wedding, for fear the plans would fall through and she'd taste the familiar tang of dissapointment again.
When his brown eyes met hers, Emilia's smile was wry instead of the usual courageous, gregarious one she wore. She almost very nearly reached out to brush her knuckles against her bodyguard's had Hector not come in.
As jumpy as a deer, the moment Lesley made a move, the princess instinctively pressed herself closer to the gladiator's body, nearing the only person whose ever given her any sense of safety in the last few months. With both hands clasped around Lesley's lower arm, it took a moment before she recognized who Hector was. She rarely met the Captain of her sister's province. The few times she visited Arcana in a year, it was often spent with her sister and father. Persephone dealt with Hector far more, and Emilia's nature meant she never sat in any of her sister's meetings with him, that it was normal for her to squint a little, before placing face to name.
When she finally did, she unglued herself from Lesley's side, but didn't stray too far, or even one step closer to Hector. Instead, she merely offered the familiar captain a soft smile as she nodded. "As good as I could be." she murmured with a hint of a laugh as she remembered the last time she met Hector, when a squall had hit the capitol. The brunette paused, frowning as she looked at Lesley in confusion, and then back at Hector with eyes the size of saucers when her bodyguard said what she had been in denial of.
Suddenly finding that words failed her, Emilia could only listen quietly as Lesley spoke - obviously, the man knew what she wanted right now far better then she did herself. "Did you see her Lesley?" she finally asked in a voice far harder then the softer, more gentle tone she had been using with her bodyguard earlier. She reached out to clasp the gladiator's forearm in a grip tighter, more insistent then the protection-seeking one she had used earlier, as if doing so would force an answer from him, even as she turned demanding, curious, almost fearful eyes to Hector. "Is my sister here?"
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In honesty, Emilia really didn't have much family left, and Lesley knew that. But unlike what her bodyguard though, she wasn't saying such things to be wallowing in her own misery. Emilia was just turning into a realist who didn't see why she should or wanted to continue lying to herself that everything was alright when it obviously wasn't. She was perpetually caught at crossroads, with so much uncertainty on a day to day basis she wasn't even sure she wanted to plan for the future, or in so much as a wedding, for fear the plans would fall through and she'd taste the familiar tang of dissapointment again.
When his brown eyes met hers, Emilia's smile was wry instead of the usual courageous, gregarious one she wore. She almost very nearly reached out to brush her knuckles against her bodyguard's had Hector not come in.
As jumpy as a deer, the moment Lesley made a move, the princess instinctively pressed herself closer to the gladiator's body, nearing the only person whose ever given her any sense of safety in the last few months. With both hands clasped around Lesley's lower arm, it took a moment before she recognized who Hector was. She rarely met the Captain of her sister's province. The few times she visited Arcana in a year, it was often spent with her sister and father. Persephone dealt with Hector far more, and Emilia's nature meant she never sat in any of her sister's meetings with him, that it was normal for her to squint a little, before placing face to name.
When she finally did, she unglued herself from Lesley's side, but didn't stray too far, or even one step closer to Hector. Instead, she merely offered the familiar captain a soft smile as she nodded. "As good as I could be." she murmured with a hint of a laugh as she remembered the last time she met Hector, when a squall had hit the capitol. The brunette paused, frowning as she looked at Lesley in confusion, and then back at Hector with eyes the size of saucers when her bodyguard said what she had been in denial of.
Suddenly finding that words failed her, Emilia could only listen quietly as Lesley spoke - obviously, the man knew what she wanted right now far better then she did herself. "Did you see her Lesley?" she finally asked in a voice far harder then the softer, more gentle tone she had been using with her bodyguard earlier. She reached out to clasp the gladiator's forearm in a grip tighter, more insistent then the protection-seeking one she had used earlier, as if doing so would force an answer from him, even as she turned demanding, curious, almost fearful eyes to Hector. "Is my sister here?"
In honesty, Emilia really didn't have much family left, and Lesley knew that. But unlike what her bodyguard though, she wasn't saying such things to be wallowing in her own misery. Emilia was just turning into a realist who didn't see why she should or wanted to continue lying to herself that everything was alright when it obviously wasn't. She was perpetually caught at crossroads, with so much uncertainty on a day to day basis she wasn't even sure she wanted to plan for the future, or in so much as a wedding, for fear the plans would fall through and she'd taste the familiar tang of dissapointment again.
When his brown eyes met hers, Emilia's smile was wry instead of the usual courageous, gregarious one she wore. She almost very nearly reached out to brush her knuckles against her bodyguard's had Hector not come in.
As jumpy as a deer, the moment Lesley made a move, the princess instinctively pressed herself closer to the gladiator's body, nearing the only person whose ever given her any sense of safety in the last few months. With both hands clasped around Lesley's lower arm, it took a moment before she recognized who Hector was. She rarely met the Captain of her sister's province. The few times she visited Arcana in a year, it was often spent with her sister and father. Persephone dealt with Hector far more, and Emilia's nature meant she never sat in any of her sister's meetings with him, that it was normal for her to squint a little, before placing face to name.
When she finally did, she unglued herself from Lesley's side, but didn't stray too far, or even one step closer to Hector. Instead, she merely offered the familiar captain a soft smile as she nodded. "As good as I could be." she murmured with a hint of a laugh as she remembered the last time she met Hector, when a squall had hit the capitol. The brunette paused, frowning as she looked at Lesley in confusion, and then back at Hector with eyes the size of saucers when her bodyguard said what she had been in denial of.
Suddenly finding that words failed her, Emilia could only listen quietly as Lesley spoke - obviously, the man knew what she wanted right now far better then she did herself. "Did you see her Lesley?" she finally asked in a voice far harder then the softer, more gentle tone she had been using with her bodyguard earlier. She reached out to clasp the gladiator's forearm in a grip tighter, more insistent then the protection-seeking one she had used earlier, as if doing so would force an answer from him, even as she turned demanding, curious, almost fearful eyes to Hector. "Is my sister here?"
Hector easily recognized the skittishness in the uncertain Princess' eyes - and he could not blame her. Ariadne tended to bear that expression more than Ismene ever did, and the mere thought of his currently-missing daughter felt like another small punch to his stomach that he had no choice but to ignore for the time being. His duty to his family, in times like these, had to come second.
Still, at her attempted laugh, his lips pressed into an understanding and sympathetic shade of a smile. It was cut short as both of their eyes swiveled to the gladiator before them.
Hector's brow raised as the man spoke, particularly as he dropped the name of his daughter - a truth he had not offered that day at the Loutra. Still, he did not doubt the certainty in the gladiator's words. He understood.
There was a slight furrow of his brow as the man spoke for the Princess, but he stayed silent at that. The Princess, though, seemed surprised to hear that her sister had, in fact, been there that day.
"Though I did not see her myself in the chaos," Hector started, he sighed heavily, "It would not surprise me if that were the case - particularly due to the fact that my own daughter has vanished as well. I am not one to gamble on suspicion, but if my daughter has not returned to the ship by nightfall...it is likely because she has returned to her duties at the Queen's side." His voice grew low at the last words, eyes perpetually looking out for eyes on them.
Turning his eyes back to the gladiator, Hector spoke with the same lack of bullshit as the man before him.
"My loyalties are known and have never once wavered. It will be done, but it may take time. I am in the Capital far more often than I would prefer these days, I know where to find you. However," Hector said, turning towards Princess Emilia, "If you ever need to seek refuge outside of the Captial, your Highness, there is Arcana. The White Shields know their primary duty is the protection of Arcana...and House Xanthos when in residence."
It was a suggestion, though he knew that given the grip that the Stravos held over the young Royal...and her new engagement as it stood, it was unlikely. Still, everyone needed to know they had a safe haven somewhere, and if it brought the frightened young girl before him some form of comfort, he would offer it. Every man in his unit knew their duty when the Xanthos colors flew above Arcana.
With a deep sigh that did nothing to relieve the tension across his shoulders, he nodded to Lesley, "I should go, before the trail grows cold. I will be in touch as soon as I know anything."
Turning to Princess Emilia, he extended his hand to hers, pressing the back of her hand to his lips as he had done with each member of the Xanthos family once before, in loyalty.
"Until we meet again, Your Highness, whenever and wherever that may be."
With that, he gave Lesley a curt nod and then turned towards the entrance of the Naós and disappeared back into the city.
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Hector easily recognized the skittishness in the uncertain Princess' eyes - and he could not blame her. Ariadne tended to bear that expression more than Ismene ever did, and the mere thought of his currently-missing daughter felt like another small punch to his stomach that he had no choice but to ignore for the time being. His duty to his family, in times like these, had to come second.
Still, at her attempted laugh, his lips pressed into an understanding and sympathetic shade of a smile. It was cut short as both of their eyes swiveled to the gladiator before them.
Hector's brow raised as the man spoke, particularly as he dropped the name of his daughter - a truth he had not offered that day at the Loutra. Still, he did not doubt the certainty in the gladiator's words. He understood.
There was a slight furrow of his brow as the man spoke for the Princess, but he stayed silent at that. The Princess, though, seemed surprised to hear that her sister had, in fact, been there that day.
"Though I did not see her myself in the chaos," Hector started, he sighed heavily, "It would not surprise me if that were the case - particularly due to the fact that my own daughter has vanished as well. I am not one to gamble on suspicion, but if my daughter has not returned to the ship by nightfall...it is likely because she has returned to her duties at the Queen's side." His voice grew low at the last words, eyes perpetually looking out for eyes on them.
Turning his eyes back to the gladiator, Hector spoke with the same lack of bullshit as the man before him.
"My loyalties are known and have never once wavered. It will be done, but it may take time. I am in the Capital far more often than I would prefer these days, I know where to find you. However," Hector said, turning towards Princess Emilia, "If you ever need to seek refuge outside of the Captial, your Highness, there is Arcana. The White Shields know their primary duty is the protection of Arcana...and House Xanthos when in residence."
It was a suggestion, though he knew that given the grip that the Stravos held over the young Royal...and her new engagement as it stood, it was unlikely. Still, everyone needed to know they had a safe haven somewhere, and if it brought the frightened young girl before him some form of comfort, he would offer it. Every man in his unit knew their duty when the Xanthos colors flew above Arcana.
With a deep sigh that did nothing to relieve the tension across his shoulders, he nodded to Lesley, "I should go, before the trail grows cold. I will be in touch as soon as I know anything."
Turning to Princess Emilia, he extended his hand to hers, pressing the back of her hand to his lips as he had done with each member of the Xanthos family once before, in loyalty.
"Until we meet again, Your Highness, whenever and wherever that may be."
With that, he gave Lesley a curt nod and then turned towards the entrance of the Naós and disappeared back into the city.
Hector easily recognized the skittishness in the uncertain Princess' eyes - and he could not blame her. Ariadne tended to bear that expression more than Ismene ever did, and the mere thought of his currently-missing daughter felt like another small punch to his stomach that he had no choice but to ignore for the time being. His duty to his family, in times like these, had to come second.
Still, at her attempted laugh, his lips pressed into an understanding and sympathetic shade of a smile. It was cut short as both of their eyes swiveled to the gladiator before them.
Hector's brow raised as the man spoke, particularly as he dropped the name of his daughter - a truth he had not offered that day at the Loutra. Still, he did not doubt the certainty in the gladiator's words. He understood.
There was a slight furrow of his brow as the man spoke for the Princess, but he stayed silent at that. The Princess, though, seemed surprised to hear that her sister had, in fact, been there that day.
"Though I did not see her myself in the chaos," Hector started, he sighed heavily, "It would not surprise me if that were the case - particularly due to the fact that my own daughter has vanished as well. I am not one to gamble on suspicion, but if my daughter has not returned to the ship by nightfall...it is likely because she has returned to her duties at the Queen's side." His voice grew low at the last words, eyes perpetually looking out for eyes on them.
Turning his eyes back to the gladiator, Hector spoke with the same lack of bullshit as the man before him.
"My loyalties are known and have never once wavered. It will be done, but it may take time. I am in the Capital far more often than I would prefer these days, I know where to find you. However," Hector said, turning towards Princess Emilia, "If you ever need to seek refuge outside of the Captial, your Highness, there is Arcana. The White Shields know their primary duty is the protection of Arcana...and House Xanthos when in residence."
It was a suggestion, though he knew that given the grip that the Stravos held over the young Royal...and her new engagement as it stood, it was unlikely. Still, everyone needed to know they had a safe haven somewhere, and if it brought the frightened young girl before him some form of comfort, he would offer it. Every man in his unit knew their duty when the Xanthos colors flew above Arcana.
With a deep sigh that did nothing to relieve the tension across his shoulders, he nodded to Lesley, "I should go, before the trail grows cold. I will be in touch as soon as I know anything."
Turning to Princess Emilia, he extended his hand to hers, pressing the back of her hand to his lips as he had done with each member of the Xanthos family once before, in loyalty.
"Until we meet again, Your Highness, whenever and wherever that may be."
With that, he gave Lesley a curt nod and then turned towards the entrance of the Naós and disappeared back into the city.
When the princess clutched at his arm, Lesley put his hand over hers reassuringly and nodded without looking away from Hector. He hadn't, actually - or at least, he wasn't sure if he had, recognizing someone across the street was hard enough for him when he knew them well. His own certainty had been based on her reaction, which he'd apparently misread - or perhaps he hadn't, maybe she'd just worked herself up to doubting herself, just as he'd assumed Circena would want her to. Instinctively unable to show hesitation, though, he simply nodded again to Hector's words. His expression when the Captain spoke of his loyalty was that of a man who'd had what he already believed confirmed, rather than any noticeable relief.
He gave Hector instructions to leave any messages at his mother's shop, then waited until he left to turn back to Emilia.
"I very much hope I'm not raising false hope, my lady. I do believe I saw her - but I cannot claim to be any better at recognizing her than any other commoner." He sighed quietly. "Best to not speak with any certainty on the matter at home. Nor mention Hector's involvement, if you please. I think it would be excusable for you to keep to yourself for a while." The look he gave her was genuinely concerned. "Do you want to go home, now? Or do you need more time to settle your nerves before risking running into anyone there?"
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When the princess clutched at his arm, Lesley put his hand over hers reassuringly and nodded without looking away from Hector. He hadn't, actually - or at least, he wasn't sure if he had, recognizing someone across the street was hard enough for him when he knew them well. His own certainty had been based on her reaction, which he'd apparently misread - or perhaps he hadn't, maybe she'd just worked herself up to doubting herself, just as he'd assumed Circena would want her to. Instinctively unable to show hesitation, though, he simply nodded again to Hector's words. His expression when the Captain spoke of his loyalty was that of a man who'd had what he already believed confirmed, rather than any noticeable relief.
He gave Hector instructions to leave any messages at his mother's shop, then waited until he left to turn back to Emilia.
"I very much hope I'm not raising false hope, my lady. I do believe I saw her - but I cannot claim to be any better at recognizing her than any other commoner." He sighed quietly. "Best to not speak with any certainty on the matter at home. Nor mention Hector's involvement, if you please. I think it would be excusable for you to keep to yourself for a while." The look he gave her was genuinely concerned. "Do you want to go home, now? Or do you need more time to settle your nerves before risking running into anyone there?"
When the princess clutched at his arm, Lesley put his hand over hers reassuringly and nodded without looking away from Hector. He hadn't, actually - or at least, he wasn't sure if he had, recognizing someone across the street was hard enough for him when he knew them well. His own certainty had been based on her reaction, which he'd apparently misread - or perhaps he hadn't, maybe she'd just worked herself up to doubting herself, just as he'd assumed Circena would want her to. Instinctively unable to show hesitation, though, he simply nodded again to Hector's words. His expression when the Captain spoke of his loyalty was that of a man who'd had what he already believed confirmed, rather than any noticeable relief.
He gave Hector instructions to leave any messages at his mother's shop, then waited until he left to turn back to Emilia.
"I very much hope I'm not raising false hope, my lady. I do believe I saw her - but I cannot claim to be any better at recognizing her than any other commoner." He sighed quietly. "Best to not speak with any certainty on the matter at home. Nor mention Hector's involvement, if you please. I think it would be excusable for you to keep to yourself for a while." The look he gave her was genuinely concerned. "Do you want to go home, now? Or do you need more time to settle your nerves before risking running into anyone there?"
Lesley's touch was likely the closest thing to comfort she's got these days outside of Labros's drool and thumping tail. It used to be her father's embrace, and then her sister's side, but with both taken away from her, it had been awhile before Emilia had found someone that didn't send her heart racing in anxiety or stress. It was with Lesley's presence that enabled Emilia to listen to whatever it was Hector had to say without her mind going into overdrive.
The young princess had been hopeful, that much was true. She had hoped Hector had been able to see what she hadn't, that he could confirm what she had failed to do herself, and assure Emilia her sister was indeed, still around. That all Hector could give were gauged guesses however, had Emilia's heart sinking again, even if she had tried to tell herself she couldn't hope at all to begin with. Would she be far too used to the feeling of disappointment before the year was up?
"Thank you, Captain. For... all that you do and believe for my sister and for my House." she murmured in heartfelt apology, despite it sounding slightly melancholic from the searing disappointment she had just felt. But that was all she could say, all the words she could pull from herself before a lump grew in her throat. Was it possible to grieve twice, for the same person you thought was around, and not again?
In silence, Emilia allowed the act of loyalty Hector performed, but it wasn't till Hector left did a single tear she failed to hold back escape, rolling halfway down her cheek before the brunette quickly wiped it away with the back of her hand, nodding quietly at her bodyguard's warning to not speak of the matter. "Please." she murmured quietly when he asked her, reaching out to wrap her hands around his wrists as a silent plea for her to bring her home. To bring her right to her chambers where no one would see as she buried her face in her mastiff's fur.
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Lesley's touch was likely the closest thing to comfort she's got these days outside of Labros's drool and thumping tail. It used to be her father's embrace, and then her sister's side, but with both taken away from her, it had been awhile before Emilia had found someone that didn't send her heart racing in anxiety or stress. It was with Lesley's presence that enabled Emilia to listen to whatever it was Hector had to say without her mind going into overdrive.
The young princess had been hopeful, that much was true. She had hoped Hector had been able to see what she hadn't, that he could confirm what she had failed to do herself, and assure Emilia her sister was indeed, still around. That all Hector could give were gauged guesses however, had Emilia's heart sinking again, even if she had tried to tell herself she couldn't hope at all to begin with. Would she be far too used to the feeling of disappointment before the year was up?
"Thank you, Captain. For... all that you do and believe for my sister and for my House." she murmured in heartfelt apology, despite it sounding slightly melancholic from the searing disappointment she had just felt. But that was all she could say, all the words she could pull from herself before a lump grew in her throat. Was it possible to grieve twice, for the same person you thought was around, and not again?
In silence, Emilia allowed the act of loyalty Hector performed, but it wasn't till Hector left did a single tear she failed to hold back escape, rolling halfway down her cheek before the brunette quickly wiped it away with the back of her hand, nodding quietly at her bodyguard's warning to not speak of the matter. "Please." she murmured quietly when he asked her, reaching out to wrap her hands around his wrists as a silent plea for her to bring her home. To bring her right to her chambers where no one would see as she buried her face in her mastiff's fur.
Lesley's touch was likely the closest thing to comfort she's got these days outside of Labros's drool and thumping tail. It used to be her father's embrace, and then her sister's side, but with both taken away from her, it had been awhile before Emilia had found someone that didn't send her heart racing in anxiety or stress. It was with Lesley's presence that enabled Emilia to listen to whatever it was Hector had to say without her mind going into overdrive.
The young princess had been hopeful, that much was true. She had hoped Hector had been able to see what she hadn't, that he could confirm what she had failed to do herself, and assure Emilia her sister was indeed, still around. That all Hector could give were gauged guesses however, had Emilia's heart sinking again, even if she had tried to tell herself she couldn't hope at all to begin with. Would she be far too used to the feeling of disappointment before the year was up?
"Thank you, Captain. For... all that you do and believe for my sister and for my House." she murmured in heartfelt apology, despite it sounding slightly melancholic from the searing disappointment she had just felt. But that was all she could say, all the words she could pull from herself before a lump grew in her throat. Was it possible to grieve twice, for the same person you thought was around, and not again?
In silence, Emilia allowed the act of loyalty Hector performed, but it wasn't till Hector left did a single tear she failed to hold back escape, rolling halfway down her cheek before the brunette quickly wiped it away with the back of her hand, nodding quietly at her bodyguard's warning to not speak of the matter. "Please." she murmured quietly when he asked her, reaching out to wrap her hands around his wrists as a silent plea for her to bring her home. To bring her right to her chambers where no one would see as she buried her face in her mastiff's fur.